#it's exhausting. i envy people who live in the same place they grew up in

[lubdubsworld]

Perfect Imperfections.

Jeon Jungkook x OC 

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content. 

Rating : 21+ 

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so ) 

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism . 

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[ This is nothing but me indulging my love for writing bad cliches. That is it. Its literally a fest of cliche k drama tropes] 

Chapter 1

After the accident, my life had become something of a stagnant pond. 

Everyday began much the same. 

The alarm, mild but not jarring. Not very shrill but definitely insistent, sweeping away any lingering traces of sleep. I blinked awake, cobwebs of exhaustion still marring my vision but a few deep breaths, a few more blinks and I was awake .

And now came the harder part.

Getting my legs to work. 

It never got better, despite the many years that I’d spent in physiotherapy. All it really did was stop it from getting worse. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to the pain at this point. 

Deep breaths helped. Sometimes. 

But not today. 

“Mrs Jeon?” The familiar voice made me jump a little. 

“Sana...” I said, relieved. “ Could you come over? Seems like I’m going to need some help today.” I laughed nervously, gripping the sheets harder.” Could you help me sit up?” 

The girl moved closer, feet nimble and quick and sure and i felt my throat clench in envy. I swallowed it down though, just the way I swallowed every bad thing that came my way. 

It had been eight years ago.

 A fall from a fifty feet ravine. Cuts and scrapes all over my body, abrasions all over my torso. And legs that had absolutely shattered on impact. Multiple fractures. Motor Nerve Damage on my left leg. 

The skin stitched together. The bones grew back. 

But the nerve damage stayed. 

I wasn’t completely helpless. I could walk with the brace. Slowly and with a mildly awkward gait but I could walk. Even better if I was using crutches. 

But it wasn’t something I could hide. 

People looked at me and that was the first thing that they noticed. 

The girl who couldn’t walk. 

I sat still, gripping the edge of the bed as Sana carefully grabbed the brace and helped me put it on. I watched as she carefully set the loops in place, fixed the velcro and finally helped set my toes in place. 

“Thank you.” i whispered and she nodded.

“Mr. Jeon left early. He said that he won’t be home tonight.” 

I smiled a little. 

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be caught between us. It must make you feel uncomfortable.” I said . 

She looked surprised but quickly ducked her head

“No, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I sighed.

“You may leave. I’ll come down soon.” I said quietly. 

How handsome he looked, in that beautiful dark suit. How strong and handsome and ...whole. 

Right next to a framed article about us from a magazine.

Jungkook ran  marathons and trained as a boxer. He worked as the managing director at a steel manufacturing unit . Spent his days overseeing workers in the smelting units, and everyone knew that it wasn’t uncommon to see the Jeon heir, shirtless and sweaty and covered in dirt and getting down and dirty with all the other workers as the ore got delivered. 

Someone like that... Someone that perfect.... Deserved a woman who would be an equal. Beautiful and graceful and perfect. And he had had her. My sister. For three years, I’d watched my sister and Jungkook be the perfect couple . Deeply in love and so happy. 

I watched her leave, gently closing the door behind her, before shifting my gaze to the large  portrait on the opposite side of the wall. It was a picture of my husband and I taken on the day we got betrothed. 

What they hadn’t counted on was how greedy our parents could be. 

Jungkook was the younger son. And his father had long written him off as unreliable. He was wild and headstrong. Had his own ideals and morals. Wouldn’t really bend to his father’s will. So his brother was the one who would be set to inherit the company. 

And my father , with his billion dollar empire wasn’t going to give away his precious daughter and all of her inheritance to a paltry second son. 

Jungkook’s brother had married my sister. And Jungkook had been forced to marry me. A comedy of errors , except it wasn’t really funny and no one was laughing. 

I swallowed. That was seven months ago. The first few weeks had gone in stony silence and hushed whispers. I knew he was talking to my sister. Knew she was sobbing in despair on the other end. My sister and I had never gotten along. And now, she had a genuine reason to despise me. 

Three months into marriage he had a small accident at the Manufacturing Unit.A small fall, not that far. Ten feet or so, but he’d crashed into a steel structure on his way down. He had a dislocated shoulder and some flesh wounds. Not that bad. 

But my entire body had gone ice cold at the news, when i first heard it. 

It was a brutal sort of realization. 

That perhaps I wasn’t as indifferent to him as he was to me. Six weeks, with him had changed things. He didn’t talk much, other than the bare minimum but I didn’t hold it against him. I helped him anyway I could. Typed out emails for him. Helped him eat and change. 

Hands brushing and time spent together meant tension. And a shift in the way he looked at me, sometimes. I noticed, wasn’t sure if I could act on it. But he was still my husband. And I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my life celibate. 

So, even though it was so unlike me... I’d made the first move. Linked my fingers with his. Brushed my lips across his. A gesture that meant a hundred things. A touch that invited more. And he must’ve wanted it, at least physically. Because he indulged me. Gave me a glimpse of heaven on his bed. 

And yet, six weeks of being as close as two humans could be didn’t change much.  

We were strangers who slept together. Who appeared in public together. Who did everything our family expected of us. And I wasn’t sure how to bridge that awkward gap between us. Jungkook was a fiercely physical person. His free time was spent in the gym , or cycling or hiking. 

I couldn’t walk across the room without having to grip the walls for support every few minutes.                                                              

Could anyone blame him for being bitter? For being distant? For not knowing what to do with me? 

And in all this time , I’d only learnt a handful of things about my husband. How he felt on top of me. How he sounded when he came, how he looked eyebrows furrowed as he talked into his phone  and of course, how little he cared about me. 

Yes, we would have sex. Yes, he bought me a couple of gifts when he was overseas. But otherwise his heart belonged to my sister. It wasn’t something he hid. 

As the days passed, I realized that it was time to keep myself safe. That I couldn’t show him all of me anymore. He was careful with me, guarded and secretive because he was smart. He didn’t want me to know anything about him. 

There was a reason. There had to be. 

So the best thing to do would be to do the same. Build that distance between us. This was going to crash and burn someday and I had to 

And the past few weeks, he’d been busy with more deals. Some kind of MoU with some supplier had gone south and they were looking for different suppliers. Jungkook was busy. I hadn’t seen him in ten days. 

And now apparently he had come home and left without so much as seeing me. 

Sighing, I moved to the garden, walking slowly to the marble bench set under the large sweetgum tree. I settled down , sighing. I ran a palm over my belly, soft and hesitant. 

I was two and half months along. It didn’t show...thanks to the oversized clothes I wore. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide forever. I wasn’t sure why I started hiding it in the first place. It was just that.... I knew that no one would be happy for me. My family would be ecstatic but for the wrong reasons.

I could already imagine .

 Finally. Now he can’t leave you. 

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of it. At the thought of someone talking about my baby like some sort of handcuff to lock Jungkook in. 

I would have to tell him. Of course. But I didn’t know when or how . I didn’t want to hide it from him. There was no point. But ... I wasn’t quite sure i wanted to see that look of helpless disappointment in his face. 

The sound of his car drew me out of my reverie and I startled, glancing over at the wide driveway. I glanced at the time . It was a little past eleven in the morning. What was he doing here? 

“Leah! Get inside!” Jungkook’s voice rang out and I jumped. 

“Jungkook?” I stared as he all but jumped out of the car rushing to me. 

“Come on.. get up.”

“What’s going on..?” I asked, heart pounding as he gripped my elbow, drawing me into his arms. 

“Dad fucked up. Got mixed with some shady bastards and apparently, they’ve put a hit out on me and hyung.”

My heart dropped.

“What?!!” I choked out, stunned. “ Jungkook...” My fingers curled over his chest, clutching the 

“Don’t worry... we know who it is and we have guys of our own. They’ll take care of it. No one comes for a Jeon and lives to tell the tale. I just wanted to make sure you stayed in. Don’t go anywhere. there are guards all over the place. but i want you to stay home. Okay? Just till this blows over?” 

I flinched, legs aching fierce as he led me up the stairs and he stared at me, eyes dripping with worry. The look was so foreign....so unlike the indifference I was used to that I could only stare. 

“Are you alright?” He asked urgently and I nodded quickly, hands curving over my stomach instinctively. 

“You’ll stay here right? With me...?” I asked softly and Jungkook hesitated. 

“I... I need to go check on Lisa.” He said stiltedly and I froze at my sister’s name.

“She’s with her husband, right?” I asked sharply, anger building out of pure fear. “ Why do you-”

“Don’t question me. Go in. Now.” He said quickly and I frowned. 

“You don’t have to go there. She has a husband of her own.” I said quietly, voice shaking. 

“I have to. I... I have to just go make sure she’s alright.” He snapped angrily and I curled my fingers into fists. 

Apparently, even when there was a very real threat to our lives, he would rather risk my life and his than let go of his obsession for my sister. i wanted to vomit. My skin felt clammy and my heart raced. I imagined him doing this when we had a kid....risking our child because he can’t stop thinking of her.... And he would do it..... Of course he would. 

“Then go.” i snapped, tears filling my eyes .  I yanked my arm out of his, stumbling a bit.

Jungkook looked shocked. 

“Leah...” He reached for me but I pulled back and away. 

“Go to her and don’t you dare come back here.” I screamed. Jungkook stiffened. 

“Leah... enough.”

“You’re right. I’ve had enough . Of your dirty pining. Of you. She’s married for god’s sake. To your brother. They’re together. Its over and done with. Why can’t you just accept it and move on?!!” I choked out. My chest hurt. 

“You knew I loved her when you married me.” He snapped back and I laughed in disbelief.

“Yes. And you knew I’d break someday. That I’d someday have enough of you treating me like I was disposable. Isn’t that why you kept at it for so long? You wanted me to be the one break things off right? So you could get out of your father’s anger...unscathed. Well, guess what. You got your wish.... I’m done!! “ 

He didn’t reply.

“Go inside. I have to go.” He said softly. 

I watched as he turned on his heel and stalked back down the driveway. 

Was it supposed to hurt this bad? My heart felt a bit like it was cleaving in two. Had I really just told him I had enough? What did that mean? Was I going to leave him? I felt my head spin , worry and fear laced with disbelief.

 Someone was out to kill him? How could he be so flippant about it? 

I shook my head. The Jeon’s were  a weird bunch. Although they were one of the richest families in our society, they lacked any of the charming social graces that came with it. For years, everyone had kept them at arm’s length because while all other families had aristocratic roots and beginnings, the Jeon’s came from a background of mining iron ore and making steel : a rugged and dirty business.

The only reason my father had agreed to 

And was I really going to leave him? where did I even begin? I couldn’t leave. I had no home to go to. My parents would take one look at me and send me back to Jungkook. I felt like a prize fool. I was stuck here. For eternity. That was all there was to it. 

A decade ago, I’d had a future. But that evening on that mountain trail had changed my life forever. I was , for all intents and purposes disabled. I couldn’t just walk out of here and build a life for myself. I wouldn’t last a day. 

I dragged myself to the living space, stopping when i saw how deserted the place looked. 

There were usually people bustling about. Especially so close to lunch. 

“Sana!!!” I called out, only to be met with the echoing silence of my own voice. And then a few seconds later she appeared , 

“Mrs. Jeon.... Is Mr. Jeon here?”

“He just left... Is everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is everyone? Are all of you busy?” I asked nervously. 

She bowed. “ Yes, ma’am.... The rest of us are cleaning out the pantry and Cook’s in the kitchen. Seul and Leejin are out in the backyard cleaning the statues near the koi pond. Mr. Jeon’s asked all the footmen and guards to stay around the perimeter. Will you need anything else?

“No... I’ll just rest till lunch.” I said gently, waving her off.

She left. 

The eerie silence that followed told me there was nothing to do but embrace the loneliness and I hesitated, moving slowly to the window and peering out. I couldn’t see any of the guards either. 

My fingers shook a little as I moved slowly to the entryway that led into the dining space. It was dark in here, the light from outside only illuminating the west wall which had large windows set in. I moved to the windows and stared out into the Jeon estate. 

Although Jungkook was the younger brother, he had been taxed with maintaining and caring for the family estate. Not because his father trusted him but because the old man knew just how much Jungkook hated the place. 

I played with my wedding ring as i remembered the countless times I’d watched the two of them fight, Jungkook coldly still while his father hurled abuses at him. Jeon Jaesook considered his son to be incompetent and disobedient, which made little to no sense to me. 

As far as i knew Jungkook had helped increase production and had cut down operating costs significantly over the seven years that he’d been working as the managing Director at Jeon Steelworks.

But it was obvious the old man favored Jihyun, Jungkook’s older brother. Jihyun worked in the air conditioned offices located in Gangnam, the CEO taking care of all their sales and marketing while Jungkook , who had an actual degree in Business spent his days slaving away at the smelting Units, a job that was physically and mentally exhausting. 

And while it always made my stomach twist, this unfair treatment he got subjected to, there wasn’t much i could do. My father had made it clear that he wouldn’t agree to the investment, unless both his daughters married the Jeon brothers. And Jungkook’s father had made it clear that if Jungkook didn’t agree , he would be out on the streets without a penny to his name. 

My leg began aching and I turned back around ready to go settle into my workroom where I usually worked on my writing when I heard his footsteps. I glanced up, frowning. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. 

I stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to say something. 

When he didn’t, I sighed.

“Did you think I was going to leave?” I asked bitterly.

He sighed. 

“I’m not going to cheat on you. “

I nodded.

“I suppose you want me to thank you for that?” I shook my head. “ You don’t have to keep your worthless vows. Go sleep with her. Why would it make a difference to me?” 

He exhaled sharply. 

“I thought you understood.” He said sharply.

“I did. I do.” I said curtly “ I understand that my parents screwed the two of you over. I understand that you had to do something you absolutely did not want to. But there’s something you need to understand too. Just because I’ve accepted this, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about my husband being in love with another woman, much less my own sister.” 

Jungkook nodded. 

“Right. Got it. “ He said curtly and I flinched when another muscle twitch told me I’d been standing for too long. 

“I’m going to go lay down.”

“Do you need me to get you a heating pad? For the leg? Or send one of the girls to massage your legs?” He asked softly, stepping closer and lightly gripping my elbow when my knees buckled. 

I didn’t have much choice than to grip his forearm, because the pain was intensifying from pins and needles to proper muscle spasms. Sweat began to bead on my upper lip and i felt just a little faint. 

“Yes. “ I said , feeling pathetic. I should have used the crutches. It had been a bad day even when I woke up. I should have sensed it and taken the proper measures.

“Leah... Should I run a warm bath for you? “ Jungkook's lips brushed my ear when he leaned to hold my weight up and i stiffened. 

“That won’t be necessary. I just need help back up to the bed, thank you.” I said shortly. He looked uncertain and shook his head. 

“ okay, but I’ll get Sana to run you a warm bath and make you some willowbark Tea.” He said quietly, and when I stumbled a bit on the first step he swore. 

“This isn’t going to work.... Come here.” He said gruffly and before I could protest he bent low, gripping the back of my knees and pulling me up into his arms.

i swallowed, head spinning as I cradled the curve of my lower belly. 

 Tell him... Tell him... Tell him...

 I felt my head throb as I kept my arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. 

“I’m pregnant .” i blurted out. 

Jungkook stumbled , nearly sending the both of us tumbling down the flight of stairs and i clung to him in terror. Okay, maybe the timing could have been better.

“What?” He looked ashen. Like he’d seen an actual ghost. 

“Just thought you should know.” I muttered under my breath. 

We reached the landing and he didn’t say anything, looking away from me, his jaw taut and lips set in a  thin line. I felt my throat go sandpaper dry. He waited till we were safely in the confines of our bedroom, placing me down on the bed gently and moving to close the door and lock it. 

I stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look at his face. 

“ Leah-”

“Its fine. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t know till a week ago myself.” 

Silence. 

“Have you told your parents?” 

I exhaled sharply.

“No.” 

“Mine?”

“No...”

“Then would you consider.... “ He trailed off and i finally stared at him. 

“No.” I said softly. 

He sighed. 

“Alright. Should  I book an appointment with Dr. Lee?” 

I laughed. 

“How very practical of you..” i said. 

“What else do you expect from me..”

“Not even an ounce of support, that’s for sure.” I snapped and he growled.

“You want me to lie? Fine.. I’m happy!! So fucking happy that we’re bringing an innocent kid into our fucked up family. ” He shouted.

 This was why I didn’t want to tell him, I thought bitterly. 

“You’re the only one who’s fucked up, Jungkook. I’m perfectly fine with myself and my choices. I can give my baby all the stability they might ever need.”

“ That’s not hat I'm talking about. do you know what its like to grow up with parents who can’t stand each other?” Jungkook shouted. 

I gaped at him. Can’t stand each other? Is that how he saw us? 

“As long as you don’t walk out on us, we’ll be fine.” I muttered despondently. 

“ Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to run away from my responsibilities. ” He said quietly.

I finally turned to look at him, placing both my hands on my stomach.

“Do you want me to leave you?” I asked honestly.” Have you ever thought about it?” 

He didn’t say anything.

“So you have.” I smiled sadly. It wasn’t surprising but it did hurt. 

“Of course I have. You’re Lisa’s sister and Lisa is my... “ He paused, shaking his head, “ But, I know you can’t. I don’t expect you to either.” He said gruffly, grabbing the intercom.

I watched as he called the housekeeper, firing off instruction for Sana and then to the cook to send some tea for me. He hung up and turned to me again.

“Lisa and I are going to go to Japan for a week. She has a conference there and I’m going to scout for locations just in case we open up a distribution office there.” 

I turned away. 

“ You don’t have to tell me all that. You didn’t before, i don’t want you to start now.” I said firmly. 

He didn’t reply and i turned back to stare at the ceiling. 

Jungkook hovered for a few seconds before moving closer to the bed and grabbing the comforter and a couple of pillows. I felt a lump in my throat as he carefully picked my leg up, placing the pillows underneath. i was almost numb from the thigh down. 

i closed my eyes as he carefully pulled the comforter over my waist, folding it over my chest. 

“Rest well.” He said quietly before walking away. i heard the door opening and then closing. 

i waited till I heard his footsteps fades away before opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling. 

I should probably put some paintings up there, I thought. 

Author’s Note : This entire fic can be summed up as me not having any self control. 

#jungkook arranged marriage #bts arranged marriage #bts fic #bts arranged marriage fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkok fanfics #bts famnfics #bts fanfics

[alberivh]

unwanted lovers

the lovers of the sinner, the thieves of the nation. Caught in despair after hiding their motives behind the ruins of aristocrats , they were now together behind the cells of execution, loving each other in no bounds of life nor death.

diluc x gn!reader

contains (proceed with caution) : major character death, gruesome death, execution. (Heavy angst, comfort/hurt, bad ending)

a/n ; I’m very sleepy these days so enjoy reading this

“diluc..are you sure we’re going to be alright?” , standing behind the cliff, both hands and leg chained up in a huge rocks; standing beyond the other side of the sinners-walls. The cliff was a sharp one, designed to be a punishment for fugitive to regret. But you in the other hand..looked like you didn’t regret anything. Seems like you gone numb and missing, probably dying out of beneficial, but for what exact reason..? Aren’t you going to die? Aren’t you?

The air was in a perfect shape, blowing through the ears of whisper into corruptors mind. It was breezing and perfect, a match for a dead end. The flowers were all a bare minimum, seems as if it was never supposed to grow; Same as how the contradictions between you and diluc relationship.

“we sure are going to be alright…haha”

a simple small affairs of thieves, relationship grew beneath titles. scrawling through the nights of the nations, searching for victims to be devour. Fortune, foods, informations and many more. Dangerous or so, we could talk about it later; after all, privileges of the poor are none to another. Dirts fill the clothes of people with nothing, looking like a lost dog from the leach of their master; it’s how you both look. generally speaking, maybe you both are really perfect from one another. Poor and worthless, messing up the people whom privileges drowns them to exploitation. beneficial for business and public figure, making the knives on both of your throat approach the second you both slaughtered another man.

diluc look so much more than perfect, he is astonishing. Fit more to be a corrupted man instead of a filth whom licks someone toes to be payed. And to live to the fullest, he repayed those who are involved with the corrupted government, by either slaughtering them or just..stealing their granted fortune. It is a job, and to be specific it is a living hell to be in love with your own partner. Loving seems so mature, yet you both found it to be quite bothersome. or maybe that’s just how nature works for someone who grew in an abandoned wilderness. Like how diluc live after his family died, like how you live after you lost everything to the ego’s of the rich.

you both were empty, like you predicted it to be. Diluc was a scum, same as his only eye which felt like a sharpened death. kissing his dry lips as you cried in his chest, embracing the figure of a red-hair thief who ones told you an eternal peace, for the poor we live and for the rich we died, that’s how our life’s work sweetheart. Even if death embarrassed your cheeks, all you wished is for you both to be alive as soon as the worlds ends to be a better place. The smoke of his cigarettes surrounded your cries, it stings the pain of abandonment, like the cries of lovers who only lives to die in the age of glory. although you wouldn’t assume the fact he was a worth of a thousand years of reincarnation, he sure is enough for puppet like you to be pleased.

“still wearing your brother’s eyepatch i see? What’s up with you always wearing it around? You look better without it anyways.”

“he lives in the other ground of the walls, possibly already meeting my father right now. He was beneath 6 feet under the ground anyways, would you like to mourn him?”

“you could just told me he’s dead, Diluc”

“i can’t he’s supposed to be alive after all.”

that’s how you know Diluc’s past, how’d you believe his slaughter and warm to be an abominable crime. As much as you loath those who stick with their family principles, you expect nothing more than Diluc’s ability to keep you both balance from the assumptions of the rich. He is a tool and a lover, even if you fall out of love with him, you could still rely within his power..or so you thought. Fate was cruel, they decided to lend a hand for the inability to be punished by the divine.

You found a comfort at his kisses, it was beautiful. A single line of poet to an old paper, perfection. Never have you though to be deeply in love. dancing like nobody but yourself and diluc himself. Skipping through the laces of fingertips as the mansion burns to the ground, how beautiful the sunset is at the evening; the dust of the corpses which were buried trying it’s best to find the wind, but they were corrupted and only both of you were worth to be despaired. The soul of the worthless, the soul who craves justice for the none; oh god, you both really are in love.

Embracing nothing but him, loving the movement like no one but him, only him, my beloved diluc. The flowers petals which was turned into a thousand of flames are now flying and surrounding the neighborhood. Burning the whole corrupted society was unexpectedly mesmerizing. It seems like it covered the injustice of your action. Burying people underneath their grasp, leaving terrors to the innocent, maybe fairness are really that blind.

The mansion was burned to dust, leaving nothing but bones in the investigation. The fortune you took was nothing, the burns of the screaming neighbors are your daily teases. Diluc found it pleasing that you both are in love once again. Dancing once again. But this time, both of you were chained up in a chamber. Legs full of bruises, cheekbones gone frail, and lips were all drying in horrors. you both are dying in tremors.

Dancing in each other arms, suffering in worth, it’s the last night they thought. The swaying burns of guilt, the loving kisses of embrace, it’s so addicting. Although diluc was hesitant to let go, maybe it’s time to grew on the fact by loving was a cursed from the start. For both of you and diluc. The chains in your legs were rotten, making a deep infection on your ankles. A fatal sources of death and unbalance.

“can we promise something diluc?” , your voice gone hoarse. Trembling and terrified, dying wasn’t so ruthless but seeing diluc suffer was something you wish you could unchange. It’s exhausting to live like no one, maybe diluc felt so too. You were too scared to shed another tears to his chest, anxiety was planting it’s ideology beyond the walls of your mind.

The night was peaceful, maybe the starry sky doesn’t deserve it’s view. Humans are frail, fragile, and too much of a pain to begin with. If you were a god, maybe diluc could be your lover for the rest of your eternal realm. The next life would be fine, just make diluc safe from the grudge of death.

“let us marry each other in the next life, even if it meant for one of us to die again..”

“your wishes is my command, love” , an agreement. He agrees to be in love, whenever the situation is those words would always be kept near. Marriage aren’t that simple to be idealized, but knowing this is your last wish, why not accept the terms? He asked himself.

“you don’t need to be formal like that y’know Diluc, we’re in the same bounds, a fugitive in a prison..”

“well that doesn’t change the fact you’re my lover?” , he replied again. The same silence scowl your emotions to a mess. You really wished you did more than just this, everything. Kissing his lips wasn’t enough, tearing up in his chest wasn’t enough, loving him wasn’t enough and lastly, maybe in the next life your time was too short. can i sacrifice the whole world for you then? So anything that could happened in this state, all of it was for us to met again. I’m too selfish to let go, you are the best thing that universe have fortune to be.

I accept each granted the world has gave, even if it meant for me to die again. Let go of diluc’s hand, let me be the crystalflies Diluc envied; An eternal peace for lovers to reincarnated as. If anything has happened to both of us, let share the burden towards the undeserved. Because in our next life, maybe there wouldn’t be us, just you and another person in chains of eternal love-life.

so whenever i’m lost diluc, intertwined my hands again. And you, whenever you’re lost diluc, love me all over again. Because if this time wasn’t enough, then let us die in each other embrace. Loving you was an intention i never have despises, and as those ancient story told. ‘The once fallen first are the once who fell in love harder.’ I though it was a wise poet, but maybe know i understand, Diluc.

I lost you after you fell to the cliff, i have no regret on loving you. But if time was partial enough for both of us, i rather fall for you without any requited relations with you anymore. Diluc, you’re free. As free as the ocean waves, as free as the guides of the wind, you’re free. I’m sorry for letting you fall away from the range of my life, i’m sorry..

so please Diluc, meet me again sooner or after, i love you.

the pleas for the corpse to hear, here you standing in the cliff alone, waiting for someone to push you apart; to follows Diluc’s path. oh diluc..he look so lonely down’s there..blood all over his head and torso; as he saw you fallen down to his side. Eyes opened in shock, as the knife inside of his stomache rumbles to death. Stings. It stings. He watches the world shutter in his eyes, the eyepatch he use was no longer his brother remnants, it was just a decoration for another corpse to be buried in burden of love. He seems so pathetic in this state, seeing you fallen to his side and couldn’t do nothing but smile.

diluc why am i the only one talking here?

The bloody place you both fallen through was a perfect place for continuation. Trying to slip your head to diluc’s unwary neck, the warm part of his body you couldn’t let go. You heard the whispers of the wind once again, it seems it pitied the living and the dead. Diluc heartbeat was long gone, possibly gone when he smiles at you; for the last time. Diluc was just a body now, your lover have returned to another universe. To another universe you promises him before.

‘in heaven we’ll be free..in heaven we’ll get married diluc.”

the thought of you slowly losing consciousness was better than before. the warm of Diluc’s corpse was starting to fade, same as how your instinct shatter to pieces. The only thing you could see beside the sky was the knife inside his stomach, waiting for it to be freed from the blood of the filth. But your strength was long gone, death already ruins your eyes in despised of being in love. As the ancient tales says in the end of the page, they told the audience a never-ending happy tales, a hope for the lovers to heard at the end. you both are free now..

TAGLIST : @mikachuchu , @zierx @childeluv @urujiako , @chichikoi , @noirkkat , @aphrodicts-imagination , @icecappa

proofread; @mikachuchu (thank you so much wtf mika ily for this /p)

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #diluc angst #diluc ragnvindr angst #diluc x reader angst #diluc ragnvindr x reader angst #genshin impact diluc angst #genshin impact diluc ragnvindr angst #diluc fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #diluc ragnvindr x y/n #diluc x y/n #genshin impact diluc

[obae-me]

Hi, I'm back with another ask (if you're still taking them)! Can I request the demon brothers reacting to an MC who usually shies away from touch, but absolutely melts under headpats? Thank you, I love your works, and I hope you aren't overworking yourself!! 💙

I live for the fluff, and I hope this warms your heart reading as much as I did while writing it! Thank you for your request, stay safe and take care of yourself! 💜

Lucifer

He’s not super touchy himself, so any form of physical affection he shows MC is minimal. A hand on their shoulder, an escorting arm, just simple gentlemanly gestures. When he saw that MC wasn’t quite comfortable with these, going so far as to sometimes move away from his body, he stopped even doing those out of respect for their space. He understood more than most that some people didn’t like being touched.

He wasn’t paying attention when he had first done it, giving MC a pat on the head. He was exhausted, having spent all day in meetings, doing paperwork, and cleaning up the messes of his brothers. He was running low on sleep, patience, and logic. His only main focus was work. MC had offered a helping hand, and he didn’t refuse, in fact he was secretly thankful for assistance. Normally, his pride would force him to carry his own work and burdens on his shoulders, but tonight he would let it slide. They handed him some of his work back, all thoroughly checked and edited by their hands. He took the stack without even looking at them, deeply concentrated in another project.

“Thank you,” he muttered, and raised his free hand to touch the top of their head, tapping them with the softest brush of his fingers. It took a moment for his action to register, and he quickly looked up from his work, opening his mouth to apologize for his folly. Then he saw the expression on their face. For once they weren’t moving away from his hands, but instead even shifting their posture so his fingers were now entangled in their hair. Their cheeks were tinted pink as they blushed, and Lucifer tried to ignore the strange flutter in his chest. He smiled tauntingly, but in a sweet way, happy to see that he had now discovered a way to give them praise. His eyes narrowed in on their complexion as it grew redder the more he moved his hand over their head.

He made a note of this interaction for the future. The next time they were alone and he thanked them, he raised his hand, looking MC with a teasing expression. He watched patiently as they squirmed in place before coming over to him. He made sure they incited the action on their own, placing their head under his touch before he patted their head.

He savors moments like these in private, this interaction a secret and intimate display for just him alone. He adores headpats where he can weave his fingers through their hair, taunting them with merely his fingertips. If he’s feeling extra special, he’ll take his gloves off for it. He’d become secretly addicted to this for sure.

He’ll use this method to reward MC whenever they do something that pleases him. It pays off in dividends. He’ll probably tease them for it later when he discovers they’ve been studying harder and been doing chores without him asking for it.

It fills him with enormous pride that they’ll come to him for this. “Hm, what is it you want? Did you want my touch and praise so badly?”

Mammon

Typically anyone who takes the time out of their day to attempt to touch Mammon is when they’re wanting to beat the Grimm out of him for something he’s done. So, because of this, he’s not super touchy either. It’s not that he doesn’t like touch, he’s just not had too many great experiences. So he can relate to how MC feels.

Surprisingly, it was MC who gave him the headpat first. He’d failed a test, already been through an intense lecture by Lucifer, and now his precious Goldie had been taken away yet again, threatened to be put through a shredder. To cheer himself up, he went to MC’s room. When they let him vent, he couldn’t stop telling them how much of an angel they were. He’d been sitting on MC’s floor, his back leaning against their bed while MC sat on top of their mattress. He was getting real deep with his feelings, saying things MC had never heard him be comfortable enough to talk about.

They wanted to comfort him and to reward him at the same time. Not knowing what to do, MC leaned forward and nervously rubbed the top of his head. “There there.”

At first, all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, warning signals running through his mind as his nerves went on high alert. But then the soothing circles over his head put him more at ease, MC’s comforting voice lulling his fears away. MC was...was...giving him a...a...He almost found himself slipping to the floor, but then he snapped out of it.

“Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi, what’re you doing?” He tore free from them, getting to his feet as he stared down at them. His glasses were slightly crooked and hanging near the end of his nose in his flustered state. “I’m supposed to be the bigger man here, the one supporting you! So…” With a finger, he pushed his glasses up near his face before he hovered a hand above their hair. He took a deep breath, and then gave them a headpat in return, watching their expression and body language go through the same temporary panic as he did.

But then they practically melted in his hands, their eyes shiny with un-spilt tears as their touch starved body received some physical attention. Mammon did his best to prevent his face from getting even hotter than it already was. Who knew he’d love giving them headpats even more than getting one himself?

He’ll dole out headpats to MC left and right now, doesn’t matter when, where, or why, he’s greedy so when he wants to do it there’s no stopping him, but on this particular matter MC doesn’t bother stopping him anyway. He doesn’t ask for something in return for this gesture, for once, but occasionally MC gives him a pat on the head in exchange, watching him stutter as he turns a deep pink.

He loves giving MC headpats where he messes up their hair, ruffling it up and making it wild-looking just so he can do it all over again when they try to fix it.

Levi

You think his brothers are touch starved? He’s probably not had physical contact for decades, but part of that is his fault. He’s always yelling not to be touched, exclaiming loud enough that people in the Celestial Realm could hear, that he needs his personal space. He freaks out if MC accidentally even bumps shoulders with him.

He notices how MC reacts whenever he accidentally touches them, and he takes it very personally. Self doubt and anxiousness take over his mind as he secludes himself in the safe space of his bedroom. With the assistance of the brothers, MC managed to enter his comfort zone, stepping into his room. They started explaining how they were sorry that they were responsible for how he was feeling. They had to bluntly tell him that they don’t like being touched really by anyone, not just him, most things just make them uncomfortable. If there was anyone who knew about it, it was him. They sat down by him, but not too closely, and asked if watching anime with him would make him feel better.

As they’re both watching one of his favorite shows, Levi notices the expression on MC’s face whenever the main protagonist gives one of the love-interests a pat on the head. He’s the demon of envy, he knows longing when he sees it. MC’s eyes were glinting towards the screen. He had to cover part of his face with his arm just simply thinking about doing something like that with MC. It was no surprise that he wanted something like that too. 

“U-um, MC?” Levi’s brain was short-circuiting, and nothing was even happening yet. MC looked at him, their head slightly tilted to the side in curiosity. His heart was already beating out of his chest, they were cute, too cute. “Can I just...try one thing? And! And then if you hate it you can feel free to never talk to me again!” He just needed to know, the temptation of envy at watching a cartoon complete a gesture that he too wanted to make was too great to bear.

“O-okay.”

It took him a full two minutes of squirming in place and blushing to even build up the courage to put his hand in the air. Once he did, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from MC as he placed his palm over their hair. His hand stayed stagnant for a while, just resting atop their head, but then he started moving it, stroking their hair in the same fashion as he’s seen in so many of his shows. Only, he was near tears. Somehow the real thing was so much better.

Once he had finally had enough--he had wanted to keep going but he was worried his poor heart was about to give out--he apologized to MC again for touching them. MC looked down, their face almost just as red as his. When they told him that they didn’t mind and actually-maybe-kinda liked it, his eyes almost sparkled.

He doesn’t do it as often as he’d like, he’s still much too shy and anxious for that. He will manage to do it every so often, waiting until he’s had plenty of time for mental preparation. He waits to strike whenever MC is sad so he can swoop in and be their hero.

He likes the slow simple headpats, moving his hand left and right, feeling the heat inside his chest grow as MC sways their head with his movements.

Satan

Of course he doesn’t prefer being touched, why would he? He gets angry if someone even bothers him when they happen to be in the same room. He needs his space, he needs people to stay away from him, and if he does so happen to want to be touched, he needs it on his own terms. So he actually enjoyed hanging out with MC, because with them feeling the same way as he did, he didn’t have to worry they’d do something reckless like...hugging him or some awful thing.

They were reading together, his favorite activity. There was nothing better than him and his company doing their own thing within a decent distance, and all while being quiet about it. And because MC was being so well-behaved, he permitted them to sit on the same couch as him should they want it. He almost lost his place on the page as he felt their body heat wave off of them as they sat next to him.

However, MC kept moving, shifting to change position every few moments, trying to get into a comfortable reading position, but not finding one. It was driving him a bit crazy, but he understood their struggle. He weighed the pros and cons of what he was about to suggest in his head. He decided that it would mostly be in his favor. 

“Why don’t you lie down and I read to you?” He asked them, placing a bookmark in between the crevice of his book before placing it aside. They blinked at him, embarrassed that they had bothered him so badly. They got up off the couch, ready to lay on the floor. He gingerly grabbed the fabric of their sleeve. “I’m not asking you to get on the floor, I’m not that rude. To my brothers maybe, but not you.” He took the book that they had been reading and brought it to his face, already feeling some involuntary feelings rise to his cheeks. He patted his legs, hoping they would understand his gesture without him having to go through the pain of saying it.

They understood well enough, getting back on the couch and slowly, slowly, settled down with their head in his lap, their face turned away from him. MC was a bit rigid at first, but slowly relaxed as Satan started reading their story from the point they had left off at. He eventually got so enveloped in the words, he had no idea what he had been automatically doing. It took him about a chapter or two before his actions hit him randomly, his mind going blank, leaving himself tongue tied.

He’d been petting MC’s head for a while now, almost completely unaware. He assumed the feeling in his lap reminded him of a cat curled up over his legs, and he just instinctively had been stroking their head. He’d caught himself in the middle of running his fingers all the way from the top of their head, down to the nape of their neck, almost even scratching behind their ears.

“Is...is something wrong? Why...did you stop?” MC wondered, their voice gentle. He cleared his throat, deducing that their tone meant they found nothing wrong with what he had been doing. He resumed his actions, and felt MC happily shudder in his lap.

Later that night, when he was done reading, he found that he had made MC a little too comfortable, and now they were asleep on him. He didn’t dare move and actually ended up staying there all night.

He’ll only give MC headpats in this exact way, with their head over his thighs, stroking their hair like they were a cuddly pet. He’s melting almost as much as they are. To his enjoyment, MC will ask him if they can read with him much more frequently.

Asmo

He love love loves touch! So seeing MC squirm away from all his forms of affection makes him equal parts gloomy and determined. He’s never had anyone shy away from him like that, even his charm ends up rubbing off on his brothers, and they let him give them physical affection every once and awhile. He knows there has to be some form of touch MC can stand, and he’s ready to find it.

He tries hugs, hand-holding, massages, tickling, cuddling, anything he can think of in hopes MC will react positively. Touch his strongest love-language after all, so he’ll be forever downhearted if MC is never comfortable with it. Never comfortable with him...

He was close to figuring it out though, he knew it. His last massaging experiment had his hands around their head and neck, and he felt the muscles in their body unwind just the slightest bit. So, today he had them in his room, sitting on the chair in front of his mirror as he brushed their hair. Like before, they weren’t as tense, and were surprisingly complacent as he dragged his brush through their smooth strands. He was so jovial over this, he was almost humming to himself.

“MC, your hair is almost just as pretty as mine!” He put the brush down for just a second to run his fingers through their locks. MC’s body shuddered, their eyelids fluttering. The heart in his chest pounded in excitement when MC leaned their head towards his hand. He was almost as happy as the time Lucifer let Asmo give him a shoulder massage. “Hmm, what’s this?” He grinned and played with their hair some more, using his hands to pat down and fix any stray strands. MC refused to look at his gaze in the reflection of their mirror, their face adorably red. He just wanted to squeeze them! Asmo pressed his cheek to their head as he continued to pet and comb his fingers throughout MC’s hair.

He pets their head now as frequently as MC will allow. He especially prefers to do it when he notices they’re tense or stressed. Just a few minutes of his magical hands running over their head and all the tension in MC’s body practically melts away.

His special version of headpats come with special scritches. He’ll let his long nails gently scratch at their scalp, causing shudders to run through MC’s spine. Once, MC even moaned softly in comfort as he did this, causing him to almost collapse. Who knew something so chaste and simple could get him so pleased?

Beel

He’s a big lovable teddy bear, and so he loves to give hugs. It’s third on the list of things he loves, family, food (not always in that order), and comforting embraces following right after. The first time he gave MC a hug, they felt frozen, unable to hug him back. They only began to breathe again after he let them go. He respects the fact that they don’t like touch, but it will make him a bit melancholy for a while.

He only figured out MC adored headpats because they practically told him, he ended up being the only one they felt comfortable enough opening up to. Maybe it was because he couldn’t help but sulk for a few days after MC asked not to be touched. They felt a bit guilty for him, after all, he was only trying to show MC wholesome affection.

He had been in the kitchen, getting a large selection of goodies for his midnight snack when the door opened. He almost jumped when MC came into the room, as he went about clutching the food to his chest. He looked over MC before saying anything, their eyes and face a bit puffy from crying. They looked deeply upset.

Beel got so rattled from their expression, he almost dropped his precious food. He hurriedly put it all on a kitchen counter before talking to them. “MC, it’s so late, what’s wrong?” His natural instinct was to hold his arms out, ready to give them a tight embrace, but he bit his lip as he kept his arms lowered. Not knowing how best to comfort them was killing him, leaving the already gaping hole in his stomach feeling even emptier.

“I...I don’t know...I just…” MC placed their hands over their face as they began to cry some more. Beel got closer to them, every inch in his body twitching as all he wanted was to scoop them up.

“Well...what...what can I do to make you feel better? I’ll do anything!”

As they were sniffling, they outstretched one of their arms, waiting for his hand. He let them take it, taking notice of the vast difference between sizes. They felt so small next to him. MC grasped his hand with their own, doing their best to keep from shaking. Beel hadn’t quite been ready for MC to place his hand over their head, holding onto his wrist. He hesitated for a second, starting off very slow. The more he pet them, the more they started to calm down.

This made his heart swell immensely. He was so overjoyed that he was making MC happy, that he got to touch them, that he got a bit carried away as his built up emotions flowed straight to his hands. He moved his hand back and forth a bit aggressively, all purely by accident. He’d had his eyes closed as he couldn’t contain himself, his heart feeling like bursting. He was shaking MC back and forth so violently, they had to grasp onto his clothes from falling over. He quickly stopped, apologizing profusely while MC held tightly onto him as they waited for the room to stop spinning.

He will want to do this all the time, it satiates some sort of hunger in his stomach when he does, and MC doesn’t complain. Just as long as he does it gently. He’ll pet them like a fragile creature, as he closes his eyes and almost glows in happiness when he does. The gesture reminds him a lot of comforting Belphie.

Belphie

Like Satan, Belphie is only somewhat okay with touch if it’s on his terms. He almost always needs to initiate it, or ask for it at the very least. The only exception to the rule is his twin Beel. His brother is always picking him up, hugging him, or letting Belphie sleep on him.

When MC explained that they didn’t like touch, he was okay with it. What, did they think he cared? It’s no big deal, whatever, he’s too tired to worry about it. It does affect him, but he’s not even sure why. Is it because they look so soft to him that he wants to cuddle them like a pillow? Is it because he just wants to feel their sweet warmth? Is it because he wants to spite his brothers by being the only one able to touch them? He’s unsure. The only thing he is sure of is it’s making him a bit restless.

So, to deal with this, he did what came most naturally to him. That being coming into MC’s room unannounced in the dead of night. He’s still not used to normal human manners or behavior, or he doesn’t really care. Possibly both.

He watched MC sleep peacefully in bed, the silver rays of moonlight seeping through their window and landing on their head, reflecting off the color of their hair. He knelt close to the bed, tucking his pillow close to his chest as he watched them sleep for a bit. Then he lazily raised his hand, plopping it over their head. Their body jolted a bit as their eyelids opened.

“B-Belphie?” MC moved a bit, coming out of their tired haze.

“Shh, this is just a dream,” he told them, abusing his powers a bit as he influenced their exhaustion. A sleepy gaze coated their eyes. They ceased moving, nuzzling their head against the pillow as they no longer went to question why he was in their room.

He ran his hand gently over their head, watching color flush their cheeks as they stared at him in their dreamy state. Their lips almost curled into a smile, and Belphie pulled his cow-printed pillow closer to his chest, hoping to muffle the rapid beating of his heart. He pet MC’s head until they fell fast asleep again.

In the morning, MC looks at him in a weird way, more flustered than usual. He’ll tease them about it a bit, questioning their actions and feeling twisted satisfaction when they explained that they simply had experienced a strange dream last night.

He might continue to do this, giving them affection before bed and persuading them it was nothing more than a dream, but eventually he’ll want them to know it was real. He’ll just enjoy this secret interaction a little more before he does tell them, though.

He likes to pet their head in a way that lets their hair look like sleepy bed-hair, he finds it unbelievably adorable. He’ll start from the top of their head and work down towards their cheek, letting MC nuzzle against his palm before they sleep.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

[sanghyukstattoos]

Along the way

Characters: Kim Seokwoo I Rowoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst 

Words:1789

Summary: At a house party or a so-called dreaded 'family gathering', you detest the situation, how you feel and everything. That is until Seokwoo picks you up and is there for you all the way home.

A/N: Pictures from DailyRowoon 

Thank you to the anon who requested this! When I was writing this, I slipped into a little daze and I was at my best writing this so I do hope that you love it! Personally, when things get hard for me, I am that person who plans it all out in her head. I’ll speak myself through it including why I have been feeling or why I feel in a particular way and how to solve the problem so a little bit of that is incorporated into this fic!

You were at your family’s house, sitting on the sofa and holding your breath, waiting for the right time to jump into the conversation. They were feuding about something and while no one was screaming, you could feel how tense the room was. 

They make a big deal about everything, you thought but stayed quiet. Nothing good would come from you pointing out their obvious mistakes. It was right there and you felt a sudden surge of anger. You didn’t know where it came from either- there were so any sources.

You didn’t know how riled up you were getting but you did know not to get angry because apparently, that came to you pretty easily. Just because someone told you to control yourself didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. 

Your felt the dull ache in your temple become something more as your family snapped their heads in your direction when you spoke while nodding your head in the direction , ‘’It’s right there’’.

There was a small hum floating from your family members as they considered what you were saying but then it all went to shit. To them, it was something else but it mattered to you- wasn’t what you wanted also important?

The room grew more hot as they dismissed your statement, some feeling annoyed while others gave you small, pitiful smiles as they all went back to what they were doing. 

You stayed quiet and laid low for the next few minutes, contemplating how you spoke just a few moments ago. You wavered when you spoke, especially towards the end. 

Maybe it was obvious, that’s why they gave you those smiles. You looked around to see everyone smiling, automatically nodding and giving a bright smile to a family member who raised their eyebrows at you, presumably in concern.

They just picked whatever they wanted, dismissing the rest as, ‘’it’s okay, how important could it be?’’. Knowing that somewhere in the future you wouldn’t be here made you cautious but for now you were stuck in this place.

Forced to endure this because it was social of you to do so, you couldn’t possibly have a problem with your family- after all, they were your family. Your family member next to you, turned to you saying, ‘’Why do they sound like that when they fight?’’ making you look over and laugh as well.

You felt guilty for laughing for none of it showed on your face, laughing along with the person beside you. Not even a couple of seconds had passed till they spoke up, pointing in the direction mentioned while saying, ‘’See? It’s right there’’

From there on, recognition pandered onto their faces and you slumped, recognising that you should have just pointed it look like your family member. Some faces looked at you too and you nodded saying, ‘’I said that!’’

‘‘We know..’‘, ‘‘Something about the way you explained...’‘ was all that you heard before you heard the sound of your phone buzzing. Your head was spinning and there wasn’t much room to breathe but you couldn’t have been more happy that it was Ro on the other end. 

Standing up, you ignored the looks you got from your family members and headed to the exit to take the call. ‘’Hey, you doing okay?’’ was the very first thing you heard and you genuinely smiled, replying, ‘’Hey, I’m doing good’’.

‘‘What time do you want me to pick you up?’‘ Seokwoo asked, having just finished work. 

‘‘Uh’‘ you started out, searching the area for any of your family members to hide what you were going to say next. Your eyes didn’t leave the direction that you were looking towards as you hurriedly whispered, ‘‘A little earlier than planned’‘

Fearing that he would ask for the time, you calmed down when he asked, ‘’8:30?’’. Leaning away to check the time on your phone, you shook your head in disagreement as you responded with, ‘’no’’.

‘‘7:45?’‘ he asked, this time hitting the mark. You agreed, exclaiming, ‘‘yes!’‘ and he agreed as well. In the background, you could hear the car starting as he came to pick you up. 

There wasn’t exactly an end to family gatherings, they all just left when everyone agreed to leave. It also wasn’t easy to shove so many people out of the door and knowing that they had the opportunity, they would all stay till midnight. 

You felt victorious yet juvenile as you walked back to the living room to tell your parents the good news. Looking at your family member, you envied how she was able to thrive in such a harsh environment. 

Now, all that was remaining was for you to break it to them and that mattered. How you broke the news to them was important. Pulling your other family member close to you, the concern on her face almost broke you in two.

‘‘I have to go since we are both busy tomorrow’’ you said pouting, carefully watching how she reacted. She hummed before asking, ‘‘Is Seokwoo coming to pick you up?’‘ to which you slightly nodded to replying, ‘‘In 15 minutes’‘. 

You kept yourself from smiling out and after spilling it to your other family members, you would have wished to see the spoils of joy on their faces but instead got into Seokwoo’s car. 

This time your entrance was different and a whole lot better. It felt good to be back as you gave him a quick peck on his cheek. You reflected his wide smile, leaning your head on the headrest.

"How was it?" he asked, inquisitive but careful at the same time knowing that your family had a given history of making you feel like an outsider whenever they all came around. You hummed, dismissing the answer and instead looking at him and shrugging your shoulders, clearly exhausted.

"Don't stress about it a lot" he cautioned, hand on the steering wheel while one slipped into yours, wanting to be close to you in your time of pure distress. Gripping his hand tighter, you replied, "It's tiring, but I can make it" nodding as you said the latter, hoping to convince yourself that you could hold on.

It all sounded like fireworks to you but a part of you hoped that Seokwoo bought it because he was worried. You were an adult and if anything, they were people out there going through worse. It was a reminder that you didn't have to worry about something so small.

Whatever you thought to try and show that it wasn’t that big of a deal, there were always your own original thoughts at the back of your mind, trying to breach the surface. You had spoken to your family about how you felt, delivering in soft blows rather than directly and their response dismissed how you felt.

They had managed to convince you that the problem was now over, now that you had spoken to them but you felt as if no real change occurred. Truth to be told, you didn't have a proper explanation for this or anything like it but you did try your best.

Then again, what counted as a proper explanation?

"Hey" Seokwoo softly spoke, looking over at you in concern to see that you were looking out of the window with a look of despair on your face. It was at times like these that your real emotions would pour through, at times when you were stressed but tried to control how you truly felt.

You gave him a small smile and looked away, blinking the tears back. You felt hypervigilant now, also noticing how tightly you were gripping his hand. And then you felt grateful realising that he knew but gave you your space anyways.

You could show someone an example of what feeling like an outsider felt like in your family but individually, the single events did not count. On the other hand, a culmination or tyrannical combination of all these events made much more sense to your point.

They could point out how you were exaggerating the reality of the situation much like your family or at least how you thought they would react but Seokwoo and you knew the truth. Even before Seokwoo, you would live in your own mind, gradually moving away from the negativity.

Although the problem persisted, you once called into question your thoughts about yourself, the world and your future- the negative triad. It was simply a triad but you did know that you had negative thoughts regarding all three, making it your negative triad.

At present, you were content with yourself and the life you built that didn't involve a complete involvement of your family. Somehow, your problem with your family became your world and on a whole you were not angry at the world but you weren't angry at your family either. You couldn't change their actions and words towards you but you could change how you reacted towards them. As per the future, you didn't want to focus on that right now for your present work, relationship with Seokwoo and friends held so much more worth.

Taking a breath in, you released a shaky one, swallowing your tears and smiling. Hearing you, Seokwoo scrunched his nose in delight, happy that you were okay. You were also strong in every right for it made him plenty strong too. It was unfair to say that you shouldn't have felt terrible as others had bigger problems because you could acknowledge that fact but this was still your problem.

He didn't meet you like this and neither did you let this affect you in any way outside of your family home. Once it was over, you would be close to tears but it would hardly take you that same amount of time each time to pack your bags and move on.

Neither did he step in to defend you from your family because they were not your enemies. To them, they had the best intentions but drastically different ways of expressing it and Seokwoo supported you through it. You healed and went on to be your best self, knowing that you were surrounded by those that loved you because love came in different forms.

"I'm okay" you spoke, a lot more happier this time whilst looking at him. A smile slowly made its way to his face as he heard your words, rubbing circles onto your loosened grip on his hand. Resting on the headrest, you sighed in relief, all the stress and disbelief floating out of your system. Giving once last caring look at you, Seokwoo drove home where the two of you laid in each other’s arms, drifting off to blissful sleep. 

#sf9 #sf9 au #sf9 imagines #sf9 scenarios #sf9 shine together #sf9 seokwoo #sf9 seokwoo fluff #sf9 rowoon #sf9 rowoon fluff #sf9 requests #sf9 fluff #sf9 fanfic #sf9 fantasy #Blooming time #sf9 writings #kim seokwoo #kim rowoon #Rowoon #rowoon scenario

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

YO SEBAS’ ROUTE HAS BEEN ANNOUNCED FOR JP I CANT WAIT!!! Do you have any theories of what could happen in his route?!?

Haha, yes, I saw this morning! For those who haven’t yet seen the announcement, it has been said that Sebastian’s route will be coming to the JPN version of Ikevamp on August 25th! It’s very exciting news, and I can’t wait to get started translating after I finish Dazai’s.

Honestly I’m finding this so many degrees of hilarious because I was like “oh ya I’m curious” at first, but after seeing that character introduction video with the lil forehead kiss and the horny as all HELL biting, I’m SLAMMING the horny button holy shit??? (I have that card CG in the JPN ver of the game on my phone and. lord jesus. That scowl. WILL HE STEP ON ME ONEGAI AKIHIKO)

Putting the rest under a cut bc is long and has some JPN ver spoilers:

That being said, let’s address the second part of the ask, shall we? Theories! If I’m honest I’m not surprised Sebastian was next on the docket, but I do admit I’m thoroughly surprised by the CG of him biting MC in earnest--he visibly draws blood on her neck and shoulder. This raises so many questions that are likely to be reiterated endlessly until his rt comes out in full, the most pressing of which is: does Sebastian turn into a vampire? Or is he just really into sadistic foreplay?

If I’m honest I sincerely don’t know if he’s fully turned, only because I’m trying to sort out the information we do have. Why turn into a vampire if the goal is to be with MC, who is also human? If we follow this course of thought, it doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it?

But then our boi Sebas is different in terms of his internalized conflict when compared to the vampires. Granted I may turn out to be wrong about this, but I think the two focal points of his route will be as follows: insecurity and the pursuit of knowledge. Remember that the reason Sebastian (our dearest Akihiko Sato) agrees to Comte’s proposal at all is his insatiable curiosity. I mean just think about it. If Comte told all that stuff about the mansion to someone in modern times, they would probably just figure he was a crazy person and go on with their day. But Sebas, the absolute madlad, agreed; he wanted to see if it was true, and to learn everything he could about people who exhibit extraordinary talent. 

I foresee that this, however, may become a double-edged sword. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. What I mean to say is that it could be very possible he might turn or undergo something similar to the changing process in order to experience what it’s like firsthand (whether to prove he can handle it or because he wants to understand the residents better/gather info). Furthermore, while Sebastian is curious--with no malicious intent at all--this doesn’t mean that envy is impossible in this kind of scenario, either. Admiration and envy are like two sides of a coin; depending on how one interprets information, they can skew to self-consciousness or inspiration. Given the content I’ve seen for Sebastian so far (and man has it been limited as all heck) I often get the implication that he truly does feel inadequate in some ways compared to the other men. As soon as MC chooses him a kind of overwhelming awareness of his normalcy begins; the implication that he is the wrong or lesser choice. Knowing this, I truly wouldn’t be surprised if problems arise as a result of this self-effacing.

(Note: I don’t think that about Sebastian at all, personally! I think he’s very mindful of others and really astute--to say nothing of his skill when it comes to the domestic sphere. I don’t think just anybody could do what he does, and he sells himself far too short. I always think of how the men call him the Ninja Butler and praise how capable he is, how they freely admit the place wouldn’t be the same without him. Sometimes I wish Sebas could see that, though I understand his concerns as well ;-; I’m always torn bc I’ll be like “I understand but alSO N O”)

Besides those latent insecurities, time to expand more on the pursuit of knowledge. In one way this drive might feed his self-derision; he might believe that the more he is able to do and understand and study, the more he can be of use/help other people. (Put simply his value as a person = the increasing extent of his knowledge in an almost linear relationship; without it he is nothing). On the other hand, I think he just genuinely enjoys collecting information the way he does! He likes assessing all the different ways people behave and why, and how this contributes to how they think and who they are. More insight offers him more ways to preoccupy his endlessly moving mind, but it also offers proximity with the subject in question. This to me is absolutely key--I think so much of his studying the great men is linked to his admiration, his wish to be like them and/or his wish to be close to them.

I’d like to address a quick reference to the drinking event that recently released in the ENG version of the app, if only to expand on/clarify where this is coming from. It essentially featured Sebastian and Napoleon sharing a drink together at a bar and in it, Sebastian speaks to the way that he encountered Napoleon in his life, and the reason why he grew so fond of him. He speaks to a childhood entirely detached from the people of his own time, roving through the shelves of libraries, reading endlessly to fill that void. It was a quote by Napoleon that caught his eye and inspired him, and ostensibly the words of people long past that gave him the strength to keep moving forward. This information, coupled with his strange excitement in Isaac’s rt introduction about how Isaac used to throw hands with people who mocked him seems to bring to the forefront a few things for me. 

Sebastian is highly, highly individualistic: he doesn’t seem to care much about what is conventional or normal, only in what brings him joy and makes others comfortable/happy. His life is highly internal, but I sense no anti-sociality in this removal from societal expectations. He just lives his own way and tries not to trouble anyone. (This is also highly notable in his acute impatience with Dazai’s shenanigans/ineptitudes now and again; while he doesn’t always scold or explode, he shows a sharp and surprising impatience with willful/harmful/irresponsible behavior.) He’s tactful and measured, but highly excitable under the right circumstances. He also doesn’t seem to think much of his own life re: self-derision. Think Leonardo’s rt ending: he insists that the serial killer focus on him and not on MC, he tells her he has no qualms with dying if it means she’ll make it out alive. MC has to be the one to tell him to think more of his own life. As such I wouldn’t put it past him to have enough nerdy reckless energy to test the waters of being a vampire (all the better if it helps him understand the great men).

Comte once said it in an event story a few months ago, but I think he really hit the nail on the head in some respects. He says something to the effect of “His curiosity is admirable, but please Sebastian--some things are to remain private.” Sebastian doesn’t intend to be intrusive or malicious, he just likes knowing things for the sake of knowing. It’s about the cones answering his nerdy desire to piece things together, not stepping on people’s toes. (It’s nice too because Comte seems to understand this and doesn’t see it as a shortcoming/nuisance, he just tries to nudge Sebas in a different direction if he starts prying too close to people’s personal business ;-; pls pardon the Comte love I just can’t help myself)

Enter Johann Georg Faust.

Now then we know very little about the reserved priest doctor, but there are tidbits of information that we can work with (or at the very least, stand out to me a lot). The one I would like to focus on for this explanation is the little blurb that appears when you open the Ikevamp app and it’s loading, providing something like trivia facts for each character. In the ENG app we got those early, but we don’t have the ones for our antagonists. Iirc, Faust’s reads something to the effect of “will often sneak substances into their (as in the castle residents Vlad and Charles’) food to test the effect of his concoctions on vampires.” There have been hints that Faust is to be our mad scientist of sorts; that he is experimenting under Vlad’s orders to find a reliable way to transform a human being into an immortal equivalent to that of a pureblood. But I have mentioned on more than one occasion that I really don’t think Faust is only doing all of this for Vlad. He has his own curiosity that is seeking to be alleviated, perhaps he is satisfied with having another puzzle dumped in his lap--a means to distract himself and exhaust his faculties. 

(One has to wonder if Vlad turned them under the same principle of desperation, and if that were the case, what Faust and Charles might desire more than anything else...Is Faust operating on a kind of necessity to atone? Has he simply given up hope that scientific advancement can happen without someone getting hurt, and so he does his best to balance the good and bad wrought by his explorations? Is he trying to bring someone back himself, is he trying to stall Vlad’s efforts in his own way? I really can’t be sure; there are just too many unanswered questions when it comes to Faust...)

This is where Sebastian and Faust begin to overlap. The pursuit of knowledge, an insatiable curiosity, a capacity to overreach the bounds of appropriate civility/decorum to get the information they want. It could potentially serve as a temptation for Sebas; become a vampire by Vlad’s hand and you can watch history over the span of generations. Assist in the development of an immortal, and you won’t even need someone like Comte to walk you through the different eras of time--you could explore yourself. While Sebas seems to be motivated more by service to other people, there can be no doubt that this could cause a great deal of friction. He will have to work to remind himself why he’s doing what he does and what it means to him, and whether or not becoming a vampire is truly what he wants.

But, there is also the issue of Vlad’s telepathic manipulations. Is it possible that an encounter with Faust (and by extension, proximity to Vlad/meeting Vlad head-on) could result in Sebastian being turned/experimented on without his knowledge? I.e. Vlad using his compulsion and sending him home with a word or memory of what happened. Though that’s certainly not the only possible explanation available. The other thing I was thinking about was a mechanic that was introduced in event stories prior to Sebas’ MS announcement. In the event story, MC and her suitor of choice encounter a street merchant that boasts a serum that can turn people into vampires. They, of course, don’t believe him--but the vial is procured and MC either purposefully or accidentally is exposed to it (i.e she knocks it over and it shatters in Leo’s ES). For a brief time, she exhibits vampiric qualities; she feels the thirst for blood as acutely as any of the other vampires in the mansion. I.e. In Napoleon’s ES, Sebas notices something wrong with MC when they’re just pouring vials of Rouge--the usual prepwork--and she runs out of the room looking dazed. Her odd/new instincts are only alleviated when she bites and drinks Napoleon’s blood, but after that single episode she shows no further signs of vampiric qualities. It’s a temporary but acute transformation. While I have no specifics as to how this is possible, I have to wonder if something similar might be done to Sebastian; whether as a means to test him (does he really want this? find out after the commercial break) or a kind of trick/trap laid by the antagonists. I remain unsure, but these are the two most likely explanations that come to mind if he hasn’t been fully turned.

As to whether or not his vampirism will be permanent, I’ve genuinely been oscillating on that one. I think it’s certainly possible given his intrigue (I never see much fear in him) with vampirism and his probable enjoyment with the prospect of an endless life learning about things (I can literally hear Leonardo screaming internally and I’m ngl it’s sad and funny). But there’s also something about the bite CG that speaks to strain/alarm, to surprise--that he wasn’t at all aware of the changes within himself--and I have to wonder if it might put him off of the prospect (like that he lost control/hurt MC)...Essentially I think it will just really boil down to how the symptoms come about (temporary or permanent), and how much his affections for MC might deter that curiosity/possible wish (if temporary, he might not touch the prospect again--if permanent, THAT WOULD BE SO FUCKING SEXY BECAUSE I’d wager the rest of the route might be MC trying to help him adjust/recover IN A SEXY WAY).

(Note post-translation: I fucking HATE IT HERE. The bite CG text says smth to the effect of “The bloodlust is unbearable--stay away from me; I don’t think I’ll be able to keep from attacking you.”) In light of this information, I am this 👌 close to launching myself straight into the sun. OFC his route is gonna be sweet as all shit and then it’s just gonna go downhill from there with angst. WHYYYYYYYYYY AKIHIKO (at least his voice is mega sexy and heals my wounds OTL) It also says something about “a fate that is greatly moved” so that does suggest a more permanent change than the temporary alternatives I mentioned (though we all know how Cybird loves to jerk us around so I’m leaving that up for debate)...this shit better be hurt/comfort or i s2g im throwing hands

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THE ANTICIPATION IS KILLING ME!!!!!!!

Here’s hoping he’ll make for a delightful surprise! I’m looking forward to it c: 

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp akihiko sato #ikevamp meta #bruh i woke up to so much yelling and im still reeling from the developments #hello????? sebas lookin tender AND sexy and im ngl i am v much here for it my ass pass is SHAKING #i genuinely didn't think i'd be this curious/intrigued but now that i saw the introduction vid im just #👉👈 i am looking RESPECTFULLY #man im quaking i guess its time to translate all the sebas stories i have and think about my hubris #like i thought sebas would be the whole 'you get a human suitor if you dont want the vampire stuff as much' #and so i was like #'i do not see my ass loves vampires too much for this' #but then he went vamp in the preview and im just YEAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!! **RIPS SHIRT OPEN** #bruh this changes literally everything #come here you giant nerd and let me punch a whole straight through that v card #history aint got nothin on this dynamite [REDACTED] #rambles #anywho if you need me ill be replaying the vid over and over again #ty cybird for sparing some serotonin in these trying times LMAO

[albarivas]

ana de armas, cis female, she/her    —    whenever i see alba rivas meandering down agnes street la escalera by pablo alborán starts to play inside my head. maybe it is the vibe they give off. bullet journals, colorful dresses, hairstyles with bandanas ;   you know ? artistic impressions is what keeps them interested in agnes. i heard they are a thirty-three year old teacher at bright future. they look like the kind of person who would make you do a vision board. 

hi again, it’s ella again. okay so i had cameron (the lily james) but tbh she’s a new muse and right now i don’t have the brain to develop a muse from scratch but i still want to write and that’s why i decided to bring alba, one of my oldest muses. i’m so happy to give her a new home and i can’t wait for her to meet all of your characters.

basics

NAME: alba carolina rivas borges

NICKNAME: al, albie

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: boca raton, florida

DATE OF BIRTH: april 19, 1988

AGE: thirty-thirty

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: teacher at bright future

background

tw: illness, cheating

CHILDHOOD

her story starts between cuba and spain. her mother, carolina, fled from cuba and her father immigrated from spain with no friends or family and only with a few dollars. the two newcomers were matched by fate and just a year later they welcomed their daughter, alba.

two years later, a son completed the rivas family. they didn’t have much and often had to deal with homesickness and many times they considered moving to spain, but eventually they decided to stay.

it was a big change for both julián and carolina. he used to work as a lawyer back in spain and carolina had almost graduated from med school. now in the united states they both had to start from zero.

her mother traveled an hour from boca raton to palm spring every day where she worked cleaning those luxurious houses.  her father got his credentials to become a spanish teacher and taught in the local high school.

alba always knew she didn’t have much. she grew up going with her mom to those huge houses and from a young age she understood what wealth could buy. however, alba never envied those who had a lot more than her. in fact, her childhood best friend was the girl that lived in the house her mother cleaned. the two were inseparable.

ADOLESCENCE AND COLLEGE YEARS

alba excelled as a student. education was something her parents always deemed as important and so she made it her goal to make them proud. 

she earned a spot in a prestigious public high school. as a teenager, she was the model child. always listening to her parents, rarely giving them problems. she had an active social life, she went on a couple of dates and she was part of several groups.

these qualities eventually earned her a place at nyu. moving to new york was something she’d never considered. she liked florida, and her family were there but her parents convinced her that this would be a great opportunity and that she could comeback.

becoming a teacher was her ambition. she admired her father for doing it and she knew from a young age that she wanted to teach children. 

to make ends meet, she got a job as a waitress and she really didn’t have a social life as she worked and studied full time. there was no time for friendship and even less time for dating.

it was during one day at work that she met someone that changed her life. she met another student while she was working who asked her out but she refused, however, he came back and did the same thing every night until one day she finally accepted.

one date turned into two and then three until soon people couldn’t see one without the other. most people thought they wouldn’t last, their personalities and values were too different. he came from a wealthy family, the typical spoiled kid that was set to inherit his parents’ fortune someday, the one that always featured on page six with a different woman every night. meanwhile, alba came from a working-class family, daughter of immigrants who always had to work to get what she had in life. despite the skepticism, they proved everyone wrong.

at twenty-two, alba graduated with a degree in early childhood education and began working as a teacher.

ADULTHOOD

her relationship with this guy (i dont have a name for him lmao) was better than ever and after dating for three years, he proposed and alba said yes as she was convinced she’d found her other half.

however, not everything was perfect. his family didn’t like her and things only got worse after they got engaged. the couple married only a year later. they left new york and moved to florida where they bought one of those houses alba always had dreamed to have and the best part is that they were neighbors with her childhood best friend.

but all good things must come to an end, and soon her fairytale turned into a nightmare. the relationship with her in-laws was awful which eventually caused tension in their marriage. they began to fight more often and he started to spend more time at his office than at home. however, she was determined to make their marriage work, a love like theirs couldn’t end like this, she wouldn’t allow it.

tw cheating: one day, alba returned to their home early and what she saw was heartbreaking. there he was, in bed with none other but her childhood best friend. heartbroken, alba refused to accept any of his excuses and immediately filed for divorce, to the joy of her in-laws. end of tw.

after her divorce, alba moved to california where she started a year course at stanford. she planned to stay there but that when she received news from home.

tw illness: her father was very sick, and her parents had decided to move to islebury, rhode island. without anything holding her back, she packed up her stuff and moved here as well so she could help her mother with her dad. end of tw.

she’s been living here for three years now and works as a teacher at bright future.

personality

She has the ability to see the good in almost anyone or anything and tends to sympathize with even the most unfriendly person. She often hides the extreme depth of feelings from her, even from herself, until circumstances elicit a passionate response. 

She has a deep sense of idealism that comes from a strong personal sense of right and wrong. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities and potentials and is governed by her intuition. She is quite reserved and is not easily manipulated.

She is a good listener and considerate, they try to care for and understand others in a deep way. She can be very calm and intuitive with the people around her, being able to search for hidden meanings in the actions and words of others.

Of course, all of life is not rosy and Alba is not exempt from suffering the same disappointments and frustrations that are common to others. She tends to be a perfectionist and often strives for personal ideals that can be exhausting or very difficult to obtain.

headcanons

she’s a bookworm. her favorite book is the persuasion by jane austen

she speaks fluent spanish

alba has a beautiful white persian cat named nube

she loves wearing bandanas in her hair

claims she’s allergic to strawberries, she’s not. she just hates them and that’s easier than explaining why

connections

Younger brother: I’m gonna make a wanted connection because I love this dynamic. He is two years younger than her and she adores him. She tries to stay in touch with him and in general, they are close.

Ex-best friend: they met as children and grew up together, they knew everything about the other. alba’s mother worked as a housekeeper and she used to go with her sometimes, that’s how they met. this person came from a different background, she lived in one of those expensive houses alba could only dream to own. their friendship was so strong that they even applied to the same university (although her friend was not accepted). alba considered this person as the sister she never had, but then she did the worst thing in the world, she slept with alba’s husband. they haven’t spoken since she found out.

Ex-husband: They divorced two years ago, after alba found out he had been cheating on her with her best friend. they met while she was a student at NYU and were together for three years before getting engaged and married. he comes from a wealthy family, the typical perfect american family. their relationship was never approved by his parents. she hasn’t spoken to him since the divorce.

Best Friendish: Okay, so this is a tricky one because her actual best friend turned into Judas and slept with her husband, but maybe this person is the closest she has to a best friend. she trusts this person and since her divorce, this is the only person that she has been able to speak without limitations.

Bad influence: Alba has never been one to go to many parties or even to drink, but this person is the only one that can convince her to have a good time.

Co-workers/Parents: She works as a teacher at bright future, maybe your character works there or their kids go/went there.

Neighbor: self-explanatory

Unlikely friendship: The two have different personalities, but somehow, both have managed to get along and form a weird friendship.

Hook ups: She’s not really the relationship kind bc she’s always busy but once in a while she hooks up with people ghdghdhgd (open to everyone)

Flirtationship: they act like friends, but cannot help to throw flirty looks or comments at each other.

Unrequited: It could go either way, I’m fine to plot it out. I’m an angst hoe sooo

Bad tinder date: after her divorce, her friends tried to set her up with someone but it didn’t go well. There was nothing wrong about her date, but she wasn’t ready and in the end it was a very uncomfortable situation for them.

One night stand: she was drunk, he/she was drunk too. They didn’t plan it but happened and now whenever they see each other in town it’s a bit awkward.

#agnesfm.intro

[frostedsims]

FALL INTO WONDERLAND LEGACY

have you been looking for a new berry challenge? or do you just really, really like alice in wonderland? boy, do i got the challenge for you! 

the fall into wonderland legacy was originally created by @unicorns-tea-party-archive​ and is absolutely amazing! i wanted to adapt a few things for my personal gameplay, and thought i would release the edits in case anyone else wanted to play! alice’s original challenge can be found HERE and i encourage you to check it out! 

here’s the first gen, then the rest under the cut (or message me for the doc link!)

Gen. 1 - Alice You never really fit in at home. You wanted adventure, you wanted to collect everything you saw, but your family wanted you to forget all of your silly dreams and follow the path that they had set out for you. One day, while avoiding responsibility, you see a peculiar sight… A white rabbit! Or, a person with pure white coloring? You follow them and fall down a rabbit hole in the process. Once you’re in the strange, strange world, you’re forced to adapt— and excited to have finally found one great adventure. You meet so many strange people— berries! — and meet a berry that’s just a bit absurd but understands your desire to explore the world. 

Founder should be vanilla and from a vanilla world. Of course, Alice can develop berry qualities from falling down the rabbit hole! 

Name begins with an A, and preferably doesn’t sound berry. We want them to stand out a bit! 

Trait: Childish

Aspiration: The Curator

Must explore Wonderland & visit at least three different types of lots. 

Attend three of the Mad Hatter’s parties before you can marry them.

Heir must pass for a berry. Have as many kids as that takes!

Gen. 2 - Mad Hatter (Blue/Aqua) One of your parents is from another world, but you never really seemed to bond with them. You feel more attached to your berry parent, and you want to follow in their footsteps in every way that you can. You’re just a bit unhinged, and you found friends that seem to connect with that. A lot of people are bothered by your mixed heritage, but you don’t care what anyone thinks! You’re just here to have a good time. You’ve studied everything you can to have a good time, and you marry one of your friends after the world’s most legendary party.

Aspiration: Party Animal

Trait: Erratic

Max the mixology skill. 

Have a better relationship with your berry parent.

Each outfit must have a hat! 

Marry the March Hare, one of your childhood friends, after a wild night out! 

Have more than two kids, exact number is up to player. 

Gen. 3 - March Hare (Orange) To you, everything is a joke. You grew up in a big family, and you’ve always used comedy to break out of the mold. Your parents are a bit exhausted with your jokes, but your siblings love it. You stay close with them even as you all grow older, and you know you can tell them anything. Just like your parents, they love throwing parties, and it’s at one of these parties that you meet the most interesting person. When you meet them again, they’re far more reserved, but you’ve made up your mind. In their house, where they’re comfortable, they light up the room. Slowly, you fall in love, and after a while, you get married, you have a kid, and you never stop telling jokes. 

Aspiration: Joke Star

Trait: Goofball

Must maintain a ‘Good Friends’ relationship with your siblings throughout your life. If you have a mod to enable multiple best friends, they must stay at ‘Best Friends’ level!

Max the Comedy skill

Meet the Dormouse at a party that your siblings throw! Then, when you meet them again, they seem a lot more reserved and shy. You can only romance them in private and show affection indoors. Spouse should have the ‘unflirty’ trait. 

Have only one child. 

Gen. 4 - Dormouse (Peach) You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth. Your adorable parents (sickly sweet with your love), gave you absolutely anything that you wanted. As a child, you were a musical prodigy, and you had big dreams and big plans. But something changed. You give up music, and you prefer to just laze around the house all day. You spend your days napping wherever you can, and on one fateful day, you’re poked awake by someone who’s tired of your lazing. You manage to charm them a bit, and after a short-winded week wind up with a child. You never hear from them again.

Trait: Lazy

Max Violin skill or Piano skill before reaching Young Adult.

Use Odd Jobs as your only way of making money. 

Stay in your parents’ house your whole life.

Take lots of naps in parks, or at parties. Be woken up by a snobbish berry (Purple) for napping in a bad place. 

Slowly win them over with your charm and have a short but passionate affair that results in a child. A messy break up leaves you with the kid, and you don’t hear from that berry again. 

Gen. 5 - Cheshire Cat (Purple) You grew up in your grandparents’ house, and figured out pretty early on that you were an accident. As a child, you acted out a lot. You pulled pranks on anyone who passed, but until you were a teen, your family only saw the perfect side of you. When you become a teen, you start lashing out at everyone around you. After annoying nearly everyone around you, it seems that you’ll be on your own forever. Almost miraculously, you meet one person who doesn’t even react when you pull pranks. They see the hurt child underneath, and just being around them seems to calm you. You don’t fully change, of course, and still manage to pull a few pranks at your wedding.  

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Max Mischief & Charisma

Your mischevious acts cause negative relationships with most people you meet, but when you’re younger, you don’t bring it home. 

As a teen, you lash out. Have a negative relationship with your parent.

When you’re a young adult, you meet a berry (aqua) who isn’t fazed by your antics. You slowly calm down from your wild ways, but you do pull a few pranks at your wedding.

Have as many children as you’d like! 

Gen. 6 - Caterpillar (Turquoise) You’re well-educated in many things, and you like people to know that. From a young age, you prided yourself on the things you knew and the things that others did not. You prefer the finer things in life, and the finer people... And you like to hang around a bubble machine most of all. You go through a transformation in your life that changes you almost entirely. For better or for worse, you like what you’ve become.

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Trait: Snob

At some point, you go through a transformation that turns you into a different person, for better or for worse. 

Spend lots of time at a bubble bar or using the bubble blower. 

Max Logic skill

Meet your spouse (yellow) at the bubble bar, and then their twin a few days later. Accidentally romance both without realizing they’re two people, and marry the one you have a better relationship with in the future. 

Have children until you have multiples.

Gen. 7 - Tweedledee & Tweedledum (Yellow) Being a twin is your favorite thing in the world. You have a built in best friend, someone who you know you can rely on. You go through life attached at the hip, merrily making mischief. Your sibling is more of the creative type, but you help them out by writing their songs and silly rhymes. When they hit it big, you stay by their side. You end up having to protect them from a lot of the crueler critics. There’s one person who’s green with envy over your twin, and after a lot of time shouting at each other, you somehow end up at dinner with them. 

Aspiration: Friend of the World 

Max singing skill

Publish three poems

Be best friends with your twin for your entire life. Visit with them every few days, or even keep them in the same household! 

Be enemies with a berry (green) and wind up on a dinner date. Somehow, it’s enjoyable, but neither of you are willing to admit that. After running into each other a few more times, you slowly begin to grow romantic feelings. 

Gen. 8 - Jabberwock (Green) You don’t really know how your parents ended up together— they’re polar opposites. One’s all sweet and fluffy, and the other… Is exactly how you want to be. You seem to have inherited their ruthlessness, and you very quickly take to the criminal underground. You like the more dangerous parts of life: spice, crime, violence. You marry someone who understands that just as well, and you have children that you hope will carry on the family legacy. 

Aspiration: Public Enemy

Max criminal branch

Marry a coworker (red). 

Max the spicy food skill. 

Gen. 9 - Queen of Hearts (Red) Both of your parents expect you to follow in their footsteps along a path of crime, but it doesn’t really fascinate you. You’re more interested in using romance to get what you want, and then breaking their hearts to little pieces. Your parents get tired at around the sixth partner and threaten to disown you if you don’t settle down. You find the meekest person you can to settle down with to get them off your back. 

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Trait: Hot-headed

Have at least two negative character values from growing up. 

Must have a messy breakup each time the romance is done with. 

Marry a skittish berry (white) when your mob parent threatens to cut off your head. Which sucks because, hey, that’s your thing.

Gen. 10 - The White Rabbit (White) You grew up under the watchful eye of your grandparents and living parent, always terrified to make the wrong move. You have your head in the clouds which makes you late to almost everything. You spend as much time as possible outside the house, away from watchful eyes. It’s on a late afternoon hiding that you meet a new friend. You sneak out as much as you can to see them, and slowly start saving up money so that you can both run away. 

Aspiration: Freelance Botanist

Trait: Vegetarian or Paranoid

You never break the rules because you’re scared of your grandparents. One of your parents died when you were young.

Arrive late to most events you attend

Meet spouse (white) when hiding out from your parent’s wrath as a teen. Exchange promise rings and marry young

BOOM THE END.

#Berry Sweet Sims #berry simblr #sims 4 challenge

[jalapeno-princess]

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst (Y’all this is my first imagine without a happy ending and I honestly think it is shit because I can’t write angst to save my life HAHAHAHA)

Summary: Two months ago, you broke up with your boyfriend of four years, Mark Tuan. Your mutual friend Jinyoung invites you over to his apartment to see how you’re doing. When Jinyoung excuses himself to grab something from his room, it’s in that moment you stumble upon a letter from Mark and you find yourself aching to read what it says.

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: “Norman Fucking Rockwell” has been on repeat lately and I couldn’t stop listening to this song and I began to write this it didn’t come out the way I wanted it to but whatever

I shouldn't have done it, but I read it in your letter You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better I wanted to reach out, but I never said a thing I shouldn't have done it, but I read it in your letter You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better I wanted to call you, but I didn't say a thing

“Dear Jinyoung,

Hey man. It’s been a while. I’ve been meaning to call you. I just don’t really have the time nor the energy to do so these days. How have you been? I’m sorry for leaving on such short notice. I just..I needed to get out of California. Everywhere I went reminded me of her. God. I miss her so much Jinyoung. I know. You’re probably going to tell me that I’m an idiot. And you’re probably doing that thing with your brows. But I can’t stop thinking about her. I wish I could say I’m moving on and that I’m doing better. But we all know I’m not. Do you know how she’s doing by any chance? Damnit, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her. Anyways, Greece is really cool so far. It’s a very beautiful place but it’s so fucking hot. You know how much I hate the heat. I’m sure y/n would love it..fuck. I should end it here. I hope you’re doing well. Maybe when you have the time, you could come up here sometime. Call me when you get this.-Mark”

It took you a while for you to realize that you were crying. But when the ink began to smear, you knew you had to put the letter down. Jinyoung had asked you to come over to his apartment to see how you were doing. Once you arrived, you took a seat at his bar while he went to grab something from his room. 

As you were entertaining yourself while playing animal crossing on your phone, you couldn’t help but notice the envelope on his kitchen counter; it’s as if it was calling for you. When you saw who it was from, your fingers were aching to open it and to see what he had written. It‘s been a little over two months since your break up, yet you were still so hung up over him. 

The break up was mutual. Like a lot of relationships, the two of you grew apart and no matter how much you both loved each other, sometimes love was no longer enough. You initiated the breakup, and God, you’ve been regretting it for the last few months. Breaking up with Mark was probably the biggest mistake you’ve ever made. However, he was quick to agree with you. He didn’t fight for your relationship like you had wished he would have. You were holding on to a tiny piece of hope that he would want to fix things. That he would want to start your relationship over and try again. But as he left your apartment with his suitcase filled with all of his things, you knew it was over. 

When he left, you were sure he took a huge part of you with him. The pain you felt from losing him was excruciating. Your friends and some of your family members would always describe to you how painful a broken heart was but you never would believe them. At one point, your relationship with Mark was one that everyone seemed to envy. It was obvious that Mark was head over heels in love with you by how he was so quick to do anything you asked of him. Love wasn’t even a good enough word to describe what the two of you felt for each other. 

You didn’t think that anything could tear your relationship apart, nor did you think you were going to ever experience the pain of a broken heart. That was until you found yourself crying in the middle of your kitchen floor, crying, screaming and begging for him to come back all the while downing an entire bottle of red wine. You felt pathetic. It was you who wanted this, why were you so upset over it? You didn’t want to break up with him. If you had the choice, the two of you would still be together. However, things were no longer the same. There was no spark in your relationship anymore. The two of you did your own things, you were always your own person before you were Mark’s.

With that being said, you would never run things past him anymore. If you were going out with your friends or staying back at work, you didn’t feel the need to tell him your whereabouts like you used to. Nor did you guys really communicate with each other unless you really had to. On most nights, the two of you would stay up until the wee hours of the morning, talking about anything your hearts desired. Towards the end of your relationship, all you would talk about was the weather and something interesting he would see on television.

You could feel the distance growing deeper between the two of you as the days went by and what upset you, was that it never seemed to bother him. It was as if he was okay that your relationship was falling apart and you were tired of being the only one trying to keep it together. The two of you had made so many plans together. Dating someone for almost four years was quite a long time, so it was understandable that you were so broken over it. Although, the main reason you kept beating yourself up over the break up was because you knew Mark was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You were willing to stay with him, even if things were no longer what they used to be. You would rather have him around, no matter how dull and lifeless your relationship had become rather than to not have him in your life at all. 

Learning to live without him was probably the hardest part. Both you and Mark would do everything together. He was a part of your everyday routine and you didn’t know how to continue without him. That’s why alcohol became your best friend. You found yourself getting drunk almost every single day. The amount of vodka you consumed was actually scary, but you didn’t care. It helped fill the void in your heart that Mark created when he left. You hated waking up without him. The room that you both shared for the last four years that used to be so warm and full of happy memories, was now cold as ice. No matter how many times you would wash the bed sheets, his side of the bed still smelled like him and it taunted you. You missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. His arms felt like the safest place in the world. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about how he would hide his face in the crook of your neck because you knew it would calm him down. How he would always run a bath for you when you had a long day of work and how he would blow dry your hair right after you were done because he knew you were tired. You missed every single thing about him. How safe you felt with him around. How he never failed to make you smile by telling you the cheesiest jokes. The sweet nothings he would whisper in to your ear while he held you close to his body after your passionate love making sessions. You missed who you used to be when he was still in your life. 

You were soon broken out of your thoughts when you heard the refrigerator door open and you immediately dropped the letter. Your eyes widened in shock and you looked like a little child who had just got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. The letter was already opened, so you didn’t see anything wrong with reading it. But you were ultimately regretting your choice all together when you saw his facial expression. Jinyoung crossed his arms while smirking at you and leaned back against the fridge. “”I’ve been good Jinyoung. I’ve moved on. Stop worrying about me.” So tell me miss “I’ve been good”, care to explain why you’re reading a letter that’s not addressed to you?” You released an exhausted sigh and shrugged. 

Why did you feel the need to read Mark’s letter? You knew there was a huge chance Jinyoung would catch you doing so. And why did it matter to you what the letter said? The two of you were no longer together for a reason. But now that you were aware that he missed you and that he moved away to get away from the memory of you only got you to miss him even more. So many thoughts were going through your head. He said he wished he was doing better, but how exactly was he doing? Did he regret moving away? Was he regretting your break up and did he wish he tried harder to save your relationship? He also mentioned that he had yet to move on, so did that mean he was trying to? Or was he still in love with you the way you would probably always be with him?

He was your first and only love and you were sure if soulmates exist, then he was yours. However, that did not necessarily mean he was meant to be in your life forever. Things happen and people change. Sometimes we lose the ones we love no matter how badly we want to keep them in our lives and there is nothing we can do about it. There was nothing you could do about losing Mark. Some things just weren’t meant to be. If he didn’t want to stay, you couldn’t force him to. But if he was hurting as much as you were, did this mean he was willing to end both your misery and his by getting back together? 

As much as you loved the thought of having the love of your life return back to you and patch up everything that was broken, what exactly would it do? Deep down, you knew that things wouldn’t change. The two of you would only go back to the lack of intimacy, connection, boring conversations and miscommunication. Even if you were to tell Mark you were still so in love with him, and how you want nothing more than for him to come back so that the two of you could be together again, you know it wouldn’t do anything. The two of you broke up for a reason. Nothing lasts forever. If the two of you were meant to be together, neither of you would’ve allowed your relationship to end the way it did.

He said so himself one time when the two of you were watching the sunset at Santa Monica Pier while he sat you on his lap and left lingering kisses all across your back. You were upset to see how quickly the sun had set. It was winter at that time and compared to how the sun would normally set at 10:00 p.m., during the winter it was usually gone before 6:00 p.m. He found himself giggling at how adorable you looked with your arms crossed against your chest and your brows furrowed. “You’re so cute, you know that right? God. How did I get so lucky? I want to spend the rest of my life watching sunsets with you. Don’t be so upset baby, nothing gold can stay. We’ll just have to come back tomorrow afternoon. And the day after day. And the day after that.” At the time, you compared his words to that of the sunset. You didn’t think it would foreshadow the end of your relationship. 

“Jinyoung?” The older boy looked at you with soft eyes and hummed in curiosity. “Did you call him?” He shook his head in disagreement before heading towards you. 

“I only opened the letter this morning. Why? Did you wanna call him right now?” By the wide grin on his face, you knew he was messing with you. You rolled your eyes while bringing your fingers to the bridge of your nose, pinching it out of frustration. There was nothing more you wanted to do than to smack that smirk off of Jinyoung’s face. He was enjoying this too much. It’s as if he enjoyed the fact that you were suffering. Did he open the letter and called you over in hopes of you finding it and wanting to read it? 

Out of all the members in their group of friends, you and Mark were closest with Jinyoung. The three of you spent so much of your time together and he saw just how much the two of you loved each other. That’s why he was pretty upset to hear that his favorite couple called it quits, especially because he had already planned for himself to be the best man at your wedding. 

“You can say whatever you want to try and lie to me y/n, but the tears in your eyes speak the truth. You miss him and you’re probably still in love with him. It’s only natural. Your breakup was only two months ago, neither of you are expected to move on so quickly. I see it in your eyes and in the expression on your face, you love him y/n. You’re always going to love him. God, the two of you are both so stubborn. You’re obviously meant to be together, so why don’t you put your big girl pants on and tell him how you feel? I’ve never seen either of you so broken like this before and your only solution is..each other.” As he continued his speech, you felt the tears flow out like a dam. Each and every word hit at your chest and you knew he was right. But like what you had thought right after reading the letter, what good would it do? And what if he didn’t want to get back with you? What if you were to call him and he would get irritated with you for doing so? 

You knew Mark like the back of your hand. Four years together made you an expert on his feelings and emotions and whenever the two of you would argue or fight, he didn’t like when you would try and amend things right after. He always needed time to think, no matter how much he hated being away from you. This situation was no different. You were sure he was going to be bothered by the fact that you were the one to end the relationship only to want to get back together months later. Even if he was hurting right now, you knew he’d be fine in a few more months. You couldn’t say the same for yourself though.

Jinyoung released a long sigh before pulling you in to a hug. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and shrugged. “I just want the best for the two of you. You know that right? I’m not trying to force you to do anything you don’t want to. But you never know what could happen y/n. It might just bring him back here. You know he probably hates it there. Probably hates being without you even more.” 

Before you knew it, his phone was being placed in your hands while he walked over to where you were previously sitting. You scrolled through his contact list until you saw Mark’s photo and hovered over it for a few seconds. You surprised both yourself and Jinyoung when you pressed the call button and your heart rate increased with every ring. Minutes felt like hours waiting for him to pick up and when you head his voice echoing through the phone, your stomach sank. “Jinyoung? Hey. I see you got my letter. How’ve you been? Hello? Jinyoung? Are you there? Did you butt dial me again?” Hearing his voice again after two months sent you through a frenzy. You missed it. You missed him. 

Hearing him talk brought back so many memories of how you would get him to sing to you almost every night. Although he hated his voice, you claimed that his singing would calm you down. However, it was just an excuse to hear his pretty voice that you loved so much. Jinyoung looked at you in confusion before getting up and quickly taking the phone out of your hands. You were shaking, it was all too much for you to take in. You so badly wanted to talk to him, but you didn’t know what to say. I’m still in love with you. I miss you. Come back to me. There were so many things you wanted to tell him lingering on the tip of your tongue, yet nothing came out. Luckily Jinyoung took over and began a conversation with him.

“Yeah. I just read it this morning. What part of Greece are you at again? I forgot. I’m alright. School is shit if that’s what you’re asking. The guys miss you, our outings aren’t the same without you here bro.” He giggled through the phone and you felt butterflies swarming in your tummy at the noise. His laughter was your favorite sound in the world. You felt a small smile graze at your lips and you wanted nothing more than to be the reason behind his laughter again.

“Yeah I miss you guys too. I’m not going to lie, it does get pretty lonely here and like I said, it is hot as fuck. I’m always in my room with the air conditioning on high. I’m glad they don’t charge for shit like that because if they did, i’m fucked. But it is very beautiful and the people here are very friendly.” To your dismay, Jinyoung asked the unthinkable, but you couldn’t blame him. You were just as curious when you read that part of his letter. 

“Any girl catch your eye yet? Europe has many beautiful women I’m sure.” You could feel your chest tighten while waiting for his response. But what did it matter? You no longer had the right to get jealous if he were to even look at other girls. You were always the jealous type, but that was only because you felt as if Mark deserved better than you. You didn’t consider yourself to be all that pretty. Nor did you think you were smart, funny or anything special really. But Mark never failed to make you feel as if you were the most beautiful girl in the world and he always made sure you knew just how much he loved you both physically and verbally every single day. 

“I mean..they’re okay. I’m not here for the girls Jinyoung. You know that. There’s only one girl for me and it’s always going to be her. She’s the only girl in my eyes. How um..how is she?” Your breath hitched at his sweet words and you felt yourself tearing up again. 

“She’s here right now if you want to talk to her. She also heard everything you just said..do what you want with that information Mark.” Your eyes widened in shock and you couldn’t believe he just threw you under the bus like that. You couldn’t even handle hearing Mark talk, how could you start a conversation with him? The silence made you feel as if he was thinking the same thing. At first, you thought he had hung up. But then you heard his shallow breaths and after a few moments, you found yourself giving in. 

“Hey.” You felt a huge weight being lifted off of your shoulders and all you had to do was wait for his response. 

“Hi.” Jinyoung couldn’t help but cringe at how awkward the two of you were acting. From an outsiders point of view, no one would ever know that the two of you were once lovers who could never get enough of each other. 

“You um..you heard all of that?” 

You let out an exhausted sigh. “Yeah. I also may have accidentally read your letter. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.” Although you couldn’t see him, you were sure he was shaking his head in disagreement. He always had such a soft spot for you. If you made a mistake or did something you weren’t supposed to, he would always let it slide because he never wanted you to feel bad. He wasn’t upset that you read his letter, he was upset that he didn’t know what to say or react to this entire interaction. 

“Did you really move to a whole new country just to get away from me?” You never hated yourself more than you did in that moment. Mark left his friends, his family, his scholarships that he worked so hard for and his internship at a veterinary clinic just because he could no longer stand being in Los Angeles. All because of you. 

“Don’t put it that way y/n. I came here for for the experiences too. I want to travel around the world while I’m still young, remember? As much as I like it here so far, I’ll probably be coming back soon. One can only last so long in a place where they don’t understand the language all too well.” You quietly laughed to yourself at the thought of Mark getting lost somewhere in Greece and him getting all flustered when he had to ask for directions. 

“How have you been? How’s school? Did you end up getting the job at that one doctor’s office?” Your heart warmed when he brought it up. Mark was an amazing listener, but sometimes he could forget things pretty easily. When it came to you however, he remembered every single detail and he knew how much the job opportunity meant to you. 

“I did..but um...things just didn’t work out and I ended up leaving.” That was partially true. You had gotten the job just a couple of days after the breakup. As much as you wanted to be excited that you finally got the job you’ve been dreaming about for months, you couldn’t find it in you to be happy for yourself.

You had just lost the love of your life, your best friend. How could you do anything other than wallow in self pity and cry over what no longer was? You knew you weren’t in the right mind to be working in such a prestigious office, so you quit just days after being hired; telling them that you had already agreed to another offer. If only that was the case. The longer you stayed on the phone with him and talked as if nothing was wrong, the more you craved more. Your heart was begging you to tell him that you missed him, that you wanted to pretend as if the last two months never happened. You wanted Mark to know that you were suffering without him and that you made a brief lapse of judgement when you broke up with him. But you knew there was no point. It would only spark more questions you didn’t have the answers to. 

“Oh. Well I’m sure you’ll find another job soon. Anyone would be really lucky to have you.” With the way that last sentence slipped off of his tongue, you weren’t quite sure if he was referring to job employers or something else.

Jinyoung began to glare at you. He knew there was more you wanted to say, so why were you so adamant on staying silent? If looks could kill, you’d be dead by the scowl he was sending your way. You didn’t cry when reading the letter for no reason. Mark’s words obviously had an effect on you, and you heard what he said to you on the phone. What was stopping you from ending both your loneliness and your suffering?

“Y/n if I come back maybe we could-“

“Mark I think I should-“ You both giggled as he told you to continue what you were about to say.

“I should go. I don’t wanna keep wasting your time. It was nice talking to you.”

“Y/n wait-“ Before he could continue his sentence, you handed the phone back over to Jinyoung while reaching for your bag and immediately left his apartment. No matter how badly you wanted to hear what he had to say, you had a feeling he was hinting towards meeting up with you again. Your mind was in a battle with your heart. Your heart wanted to listen to what he had to say but your mind knew it was the wrong thing to do. 

Love was an indescribable feeling. It was also a very scary feeling and you didn’t think you could go through all of the heartbreak you suffered in the last few months if you were to give your relationship with Mark one more chance. Sure, there was a chance that things would be different this time. Losing him was the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced and although you wanted to think that getting back together with him would end your suffering, what if it were to bring more? What if getting back in to a relationship with Mark only brought more sadness and more negativity? Maybe your break up was for the best and you needed to accept it for what it was. 

If there was one thing you were sure about, it was the fact that you would always love Mark. Hearing him say that you were the only girl for him sparked something in you and you wanted to act on his words. But something just kept holding you back. Maybe one day, the two of you would find your way back to each other and end up together the way you had planned initially. If he were to come back to California, then maybe you’d see where things would go from there. Until then, you’d continue to learn how to live without him. For both your happiness and his.

Oh, I'll pick you up If you come back to America, just hit me up 'Cause this is crazy love, I'll catch you on the flip side If you come back to California, you should just hit me up

#got7 imagines #got7 drabbles #got7 scenarios #got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan #got7 angst #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan angst #kpop imagines #yall #this song has been haunting me #and i feel as if it matches him perfectly #i miss got7 #and i really miss mark

[dropsofletters]

countdown to the truth

title: countdown to the truth pairing: im changkyun/reader genre: fairytale!au/fake dating!au/1960’s!au summary: being part of an academy full of women shouldn’t be much of an issue—until she is the last woman over twenty to remain there, unmarried and with no plans on ever doing so. the problem comes to life for her when she’s threatened to be kicked out, so she does what anyone would do in that situation: talk to the stranger that hangs out in front of the academy and ask him to be her fake boyfriend. insanity would be the way to call this plan. type: fluff/angst/romance/humor word count: 22,842

Vanilla scented candles engulfed her senses, mixing with the incredibly sweet smell of pastries. In any other day, baking would have been a perfect distraction for what she calls ‘graduation season’, but with the amount of people in the kitchen, her anxiousness only grew exponentially. Fingers clammy, nose oversaturated with dulcet scents, and a mind filled with utter sentimentalism, and not the one that came with pride and relief, but with envy instead.

Perfection, it came after days of hard work and nights of insomnia, it was the jewelry everyone wished to have wrapped around their necks, glistening under the lights of the sky along with the stars. The academy taught her that excellence is the only goal for a woman, along with being desired enough to get married and have one of those love stories that lasted for a lifetime, written in books as a vision of the past, captured in pictures that would tear at the edges by the time their grandchildren saw the type of love they had to envy. Graduation time, of course, came after a woman turned twenty-one…with marriage, a man by her side, dresses that reached a little bit lower of what they would use when single and an immaculately crafted life.

She was only a child when she started going to that academy, the daughter of two prestigious politicians that would not even dare to touch a poor person’s hands without a set of gloves covering their fingertips, but now…the sixties arrived with new fashion trends and even more expectations for women. Dared to be called less of a woman for not finding a man that fit her, she spent most of her days at the academy—perfecting her baking technique, reading more books, preparing herself to become a teacher in the place that turned her into a talented individual, only to be denied every time she tried. Graduation time came earlier for other people, but for someone as difficult to love as her, it could possibly never happen.

If she had worked so hard to be the best version of herself, there shouldn’t be any less of an expectation for the person that she wants to love her back. The man by her side should be worth of her intelligence, of her low nights and her glowing mornings, of her shy smiles but the anxious moments, too. More than a vest to show to his friends, she wanted to be, but the only men she had gotten to know treated her as if she was another hole in their belts.

Whisking the mixture that Jiahn had prepared, she scrunches up her nose at the mere smell of the vanilla in the mix. It’s supposed to be a simple, nude cake, but the smell is horrendous. Measurements are important for her, numbers that mathematics would prove correct, dignified by cups and spoons, but it seems like people don’t live with such strict settings anymore. People rush through life, like a shooting star wishing to travel around the world, going from one point to another and forgetting that there was beauty in the slowest moments. Instead, a majority of the people in the academy live for the thrill, find a person that makes them feel loved once and that is enough; they stop trying at life, putting all the weight on fate.

Because destiny solves everything, they say in their love-cladded smiles. Destiny knows what the hell it is doing.

Unless her concept of destiny is broken, it is not like that. She is, at the very least, two steps away from being kicked out of her own home—the lady academy that had watched her grow into her little pair of high heels and her plaid dresses, only because she is considered worthless. What kind of dress should be worn without jewelry?

The necklace she needs is a man, the principal had told her. A man that demonstrated just how put together she is.

The glass bowl is pushed up to meet her nostrils, her nose flaring to smell the overly sweet substance. Not that Jiahn cares, really, clinging to the suit-covered man by her side as the two of them read over the newspaper. Her brown hair cascades down her back, braided in certain spots and clasped prettily by bows to push her bangs away, for Jiahn is the epitome of the type of woman this academy aims to create for those rich parents that don’t really want to raise their children. Elongated face, small nose and equally as small lips, Jiahn is a pretty doll that sits on the stool next to her perfect man. Kihyun, the nephew of two of the most outstanding actors in the entire country, a gold mine with his serious mannerisms that can only be bettered with his sweet smile. “How many spoonfuls of vanilla bean paste did you put into this, Ahn?” She questions, not even getting a glance from the couple. Jiahn’s arms are wrapped around Kihyun’s taut shoulders, her cheeks resting against the surface as she speaks.

“Four.”

“Four?!” She repeats, much louder than she intends and of course, life becomes a comedy in her darkest times. The knot on her throat, obviously created by the burning sensation of stress, only tightens at the way the couple looks at her as she rants. “Jiahn, now I have to make the mixture for your cake once again! This is inedible.”

Jiahn’s engagement party, the reason why everyone is going around the academy in hopes of preparing every single detail to outstanding flawlessness. Jiahn doesn’t look half as bothered, perhaps because she is finally getting out of the academy and with someone who loves her by her side, at that. Some people just think love is enough, and in her own head, it sounds impossible. There has to be more to life than just looking for a half. Books to read, stories to share, people to talk to, instruments to play, songs to sing and experiences to recall. “Hey, do not stress out—”

“I shouldn’t, really. You should be the one stressing out about this.” She says while tossing the bowl inside the kitchen sink, pressing the tips of her fingers to the inner corner of her eyes to relax. Very rarely does she get to hear her own voice in such a state, torn to the point sounding exhausted, but the constant pressure that comes with this time at the academy has her on edge, tipping in between the sand and the sea. “How could you have thought that four spoons of vanilla paste were going to taste nice on a cake?”

Jiahn shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I just…I was distracted, I guess.” Thick silence fills the air when she reaches down to throw out the entirety of the concoction to wash the bowl, but instead of using the water as a way of relaxing herself, it was a reminder of the work that she had put into the cake, only to have it ruined by someone else. “Damn, why are you so grumpy?”

“I am not.”

“You love baking. You normally would be singing to The Beatles by now, but you’re not doing that—”

“Because you ruined my cake, maybe?” She asks, the roughness of her voice only matching her stare when she looks at the couple over her shoulder. Kihyun glances at his fiancé, puckering up his lips before biting down on the skin, roaming his eyes everywhere but at the woman in front of them.

Kihyun clears his throat. “I don’t really like cake…”

“And if we’re talking about facts, it’s our cake.” Jiahn corrects her and she sighs deeply. The weight of her breath is supposed to make her feel better, as if the anger that coils deep within her lungs will fade into darkness, wishing upon having a smile on her face by the time the sun sets and she has to get ready for the engagement dinner. Instead, she feels even worse—not because she doesn’t have a man by her side, because that is the least of her worries, but because she would not be able to stay at the academy for long, much less as a teacher. The only plan her mind had conjoined for the entirety of her life is getting burned in the middle of the forest, taking everything away with it. Her happiness. Her goals. A little bit of her sanity, too. “Hey, what’s up with you?” Her friend’s voice is much softer, contrasting the sound of the stool that drags against the flooring when she moves over to pat her back.

Instead of putting up a front, like she had done for the past three days ever since she talked to the principal about her position as a teacher, she decides to let go. Perhaps, that is her future—finding a man that does the absolute minimum for her, sees her as a pair of legs to grab for when he is needy, a trophy wife that cooks for him throughout the day and clouds his mind in orgasms at the end of the night. A learner, instead of a teacher. “New students are going to come to the academy in about a month, and this is the season when older students get married and leave. So, I didn’t get the position as a teacher because I’m not qualified…” A brief pause settles her down on the floor, puts her to rest and then wakes her up in reality. Not with a gentle kiss to her inexperienced lips, but with a glass of cold water. “She said I need to be a married woman first, that I would be perfect if only…you know, if only I found a man. Same old problem. I’m going to be kicked out of here if I don’t get that spot.”

Tugging at the edge of her dress, she waits for Jiahn to say something but instead, she is met with brief silence. “Finding a man is the easiest part.”

She widens her eyes comically, picking up the white and red bag of flour only to place it neatly inside the necessary amount of cups. “I do not want to find a man.”

“That would be because…”

“Men only want one thing!” A repetition of exactly what she has seen, she claims. She remembers the early days in the academy, when she would walk down the hall with her teddy bear in between her fingertips, looking for the bathroom only to hear the older students talking. Heartbreaks, sex, love, it all came together into a big mess, just like a war of the heart and the mind, and with the fear of ever getting her heart broken, she promised herself to sought for a man that would never break her heart. “And I am not willing to have my heart broken by anyone.”

Kihyun clears his throat from his spot. “Not all men want what you’re thinking.”

“But a lot of them,” Jiahn clarifies before twirling her fingers on the few strands of hair that fell on her friend’s face as she bakes. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the ride. Love is a joyful thing, and pleasure is also a good thing. As long as you don’t mix your future love status with some…experience, I don’t think it would be bad to meet people without the mindset that they are going to hurt you.”

The idea of being in the messy bedsheets of a motel, wearing her pretty floral dresses only to have them disregarded by any men, whispered sweet nothings roaming in her ears in the form of lies and someone kisses her in the form of a one-night stand makes her feel anxious. Not because it was wrong, because it worked for a lot of people, but the more she thought about it…the less she felt like love and affairs were for her. She needed to bask in conversation, to get to know someone to deeply that she felt them carved in her skin, to be loved with the intensity of the wind, not seen at all times, not spoken loudly in most occasions, but ever present. Steps, steps, steps, she believes in the dance of love, in the blossoming friendships and the sweet endings. In the fight, the thrill, the quietness after the storm and the beauty in it, and no one has been willing to give her that.

This world is all about rapidness, about marriage or relief, orgasms or titles. It is never about the ride.

Shaking her head, she gives Jiahn a small smile. “I know it worked for Kihyun and you, but I don’t think it will work for me.” Kihyun’s cheeks tint slightly at her words, although Jiahn seems unfazed. Two different personalities altogether, Kihyun coming from a strict household meanwhile Jiahn was the heartbreaker of the academy. “I don’t need a man. I just need to convince the principal.”

“The principal never considers women complete unless they get married.”

“Maybe,” She starts whisking harder, as if all her anger would be piled into a prettily decorated, tall, tasty and not overly sweet cake. “M-Maybe I could get her to change her mind. I’ve been an excellent member of our community for my entire life—”

“I doubt it.” Jiahn presses, clicking her tongue soon after. “But if nothing else works for getting that position as a teacher, just find yourself a man that is a little bit less intelligent than you, offer him something in return and have him as your fiancé for a night. No one has to know.”

“That’s the plot of a movie, Ahn.” Kihyun tries to complain, only to have his cheeks squished by his fiancé to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Shut up.” Jiahn whispers, their love exuding from their expressions before they smiled at one another. Instead, the moment is broken when she looks down at her mixture, realizing that it looks as perfect as she wanted it to be at the beginning. Some people were good at love, others were good at everything else. “So, consider it an option.”

She shakes her head, taking some of the batter in her index finger to taste it, licking the substance to be met by fluffy, soft and perfectly sweetened cake mix. “I doubt I will have to go that far. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the principal.”

Destiny has never loved her, they are two people fighting for the same form of control, and destiny always wins. What a coincidence that destiny thinks the absolute opposite of what is going on inside her head.

⏰

A tap on her shoulder makes her look back, the brightness of the Sun closing her eyes partially as she tries to make out the figure of one of the students in the academy. The nine-year-old lady brings her fingers up in front of her body to talk to her, sign language their form of communication. Maybe, she just wants to teach something different from what she had learned in the plenty of years she had in the academy—concentrate more on numbers, philosophy, history, autonomy in the form of education, to create women that could fend for themselves; instead of just teaching how to sit straight and cross one leg over the other. Some students are not too fond of her, scrunching up their noses or giving her faux smiles whenever she talks a little bit too much about literature, a lover of books from the moment she understood one of them, but some of them are enchanted by the bites of knowledge she serves whenever she passes by a group of students, no matter their age.

“What about Zeus?” The little girl asks, unaware of the heat that surrounds them, or perhaps ignoring it, for she is far too concentrated in mythology. Her name is Lia, her short hair braided on each side of her face, shorter than most in her class.

Her legs open slightly to cage the rolled up pamphlets that she is trying to stick to the walls around the neighborhood, and she has barely started, the hotness of the morning mixing with the smell of cigarettes and at the early rendezvous of the Saturday morning, alcohol. “Zeus is the bad guy,” She points out with her fingers, then taking a moment to think what she is going to say next. “I told you, you should read the books, Lia.”

Mouthing a ‘no’ after her pout, Lia shakes her head. “I don’t understand the book you gave me, Miss.”

She chuckles, giving the duct-tape to Lia so she slices a part of him. Pamphlets mean that the new year in the academy is starting, welcoming elementary school girls of high standards in society just so they could become a perfect part of it, they say. This academy sold ‘immaculately prepared women’ to the public, only to come up with wives and the right-hands of plenty of men. They aren’t taught about their visions in life, to see themselves as the president of their own worlds, instead, they live the life of the person they love, trying to fix them, while forgetting to live for themselves. “We can read it later.” She indicates, unwrapping one of the pamphlets to press it against the wall of a very famous bakery in the same street as the academy. “But I have to put these up.” Soon after, she presses the paper to the wall, taking the bits of duct-tape Lia gives her to make it part of this boring and bland city.

Once they start walking, the two students exchange a glance. “I thought last year students aren’t meant to do this, Miss.”

Replying with hand motions, she chuckles at her words. “They shouldn’t.”

“So, why do you do it?”

“Because I want the principal to realize I am a good person, so I don’t get kicked out of the academy.” She tries to keep the explanation short, not wanting to bother anyone with her own issues, much less a child that probably wanted to hear about Achilles and Zeus, Poseidon once she discovers his existence. Her steps are quick against the concrete, damning the moment she decided to wear a dress so tight in the waist. The flowery pattern of the dress stiffens like a corset on the waist, gifted to her by the principal herself a year prior to that day, but all she wants is to slip the fabric away from her body in one swift motion, skin becoming one with the sheets of her bed before tucking a forkful of the cake she had baked three days ago inside her mouth. The leftovers were still delicious, and perfectly put in the amount of vanilla it had.

Lia claps to get her attention, making her frown as she halters her steps. One hell of a sweet girl, Lia is, but she is never one to be so fidgety—she is smiling on her spot, jumping the slightest on her step when she takes the oldest by the shoulders to make her see what she has to say. “A man is looking at you, behind you.” Excitedly, Lia narrates the story as if it was a fairytale, but the moment she looks over her shoulders, she is met with the complete opposite of a prince. Albeit gorgeous, his bangs are pushed away from his face by his own hands, although the strands fall on the same spot repeatedly, his hands are delicate, veiny, a little bit calloused thanks to his work as a house painter, the brush coating the white wall in yellow paint. She fears for his white tank top, clinging to his body in sweat, highlighting the swift marks of his abdomen and his tanned arms, but the paint could easily get on the fabric. His mouth remains half-open, breathing softly as he spares her a simple glance, eyes a form of seduction on itself. She can tell her tries too hard, by the way he makes a show out of painting now that he has her attention.

“He looks like a douchebag.” She replies, only to have the younger smiling.

“He looks like a prince.”

“What kind of books have you been reading, Lia?”

“The ones that you like, Miss.”

Carved in her soul has always been the immunity she possesses for men in suits, with charismatic smiles and perfectly spoken words. She has always wanted something raw, as natural as it can get, with laughter that merges into conversation, into late-night kisses and hushed goodbyes, with breakfasts shared in complete silence and love whispered in the form of open-mouthed touches of someone’s lips to her neck. Crave is what she does, for the intelligence of a man that knows how to get her interested, that sees her as more as a pair of lacy underwear under a conservative dress, more than a lady to show in the streets only to degrade her in the sheets. Friendship that blossoms into love, a worm that turns into a butterfly…

Is that so difficult to get nowadays? Less of a rush to get married, she needs and instead, she wishes for a partner that pushes her to be her own individual before becoming the same heart.

It shows in her taste in books, perhaps, she likes the figurative, metaphorical, abstract romances, not so much of the ones that people talk about in the academy. However, this is not something she accepts, shaking her head and taking another pamphlet when she decides that the heat is far too unbearable, a trail of sweat running down her spine at the uncomfortable weather.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the baker, who screams at the top of his lungs a big: “Hey!” Once she turns around, she is met by the chubby, mustache-sporting baker that everyone knows about. His boisterous laugh almost wakes everyone up early in the morning, but his pastries and bread make up for any disturbance.

Nonetheless, she thinks the man is talking to her, turning around and opening her mouth to as what happened. “I—”

“Changkyun!” He screams a name louder, interrupting her softer tone. Much to her surprise, douchebag with the mouth breathing technique turns around, running his fingers through his hair to push the strands away. His legs are long, she notices then, cladded in a pair of jeans that fit him somewhat presentably, reaching high on his waist. His eyes look for the woman once again, making her flush in the way the sun casts down on his tanned complexion, his chocolate-fountain eyes that drown her in just one glance, attraction in the form that Jiahn has always talked about. In her words, Jiahn would describe this man as ‘the one who ruins you, and you thank him for it, because no man will ever compare to the way he made you feel with just one night’. Not that she would ever be able to do such thing with someone, much less with someone like this Changkyun guy. “Your dog is trying to eat my croissants, come pick him up!”

Changkyun’s alluring act falls immediately, his eyes widening as he looks at both sides of the street to rush towards the bakery, trotting to the entrance of the place. “I-I am so sorry!”

But the baker laughs, loud and clear, enough to bring a smile to her face because of the mortified expression on Changkyun’s face. The idiot now has another description inside her head: clumsy.

⏰

Words turned bitter for her; gone were the days of praise, the achievements that would be highlighted by excellence, the friends that lingered around her whilst promising a lifetime of memories. Some of them are married, graduated years ago and are now living their happily-ever-after’s with some businessman near the most expensive part of the city. Some are holding their babies, those she doesn’t envy so much, they wake up to the sound of screaming—and she thinks it could come from either their husband or their child, because women like the ones in the academy are taught that men are gods of renewal, seeking purity and slavery both at the same time. Others, like her friend Daum, had the opportunity to find love in the same place she grew up in, and she was one of the culprits that helped her run away with another woman. Something that the principal deemed as impossible.

“You really are a rotten one, huh?” The principal is talking to her, but she concentrates anywhere else. The pictures the woman shows of her dead husband by the walls, all in black and white, carrying the five women that she raised with him in some of them. Her place is immaculate, too sweet for her taste, smelling like coconut and vanilla at the same time, drowned in the perfection that she is asked for every of her actions. Spotless, conceptualized, written; everyone’s future in that academy could be described by those three words, but she is the exception. “Look at me.” The strong tone that accompanies the principal’s voice startles her the slightest, dragging her gaze to the piercing eyes in front of her. “Every bird leaves the nest. Every single one. Not only did you help two birds leave the nest together, as a couple, but you also ask me to stay after that—”

Daum had left earlier that morning, with her love shown in the slits of her fingers that connected to another graduate. Love, for them, was always there and she is not anyone to stop a person from feeling something so strong. “If they wanted to leave, they had to leave.”

“You’re not helping your case here,” The principal explains. “Daum’s parents called me. They are petrified by the situation, because I, apparently, was unable to take care of two women over their twenties, and Daum hasn’t talked a word to their parents—”

“I didn’t know that, Principal.”

“You claim to know everything, to be knowledgeable enough to be a teacher and you make humongous mistakes like this.” Her tongue wets the roof of her mouth, breathing out through her nose. Her words prick, like a thorn that holds on to the sight of a rose, and she is there to see it all. This side of the principal is not the same one everyone else gets to see; the calm smile, the witty remarks, the wisdom-filled eyes that everyone wants to imitate. This is the type of people feared in the world, dictators that turned their followers into a carbon copy of what they think, that dress them in ignorance to lounge in knowledge. A power battle; the weak versus the strong, and she has always been weak in the principal’s eyes. “But you don’t know more than a few words in a textbook. I can’t have someone as open minded and weak as you as a teacher, I just can’t.” Instead of battling for her rights, she bites on the inside of her cheeks, watches as the woman takes a long gulp of her coffee. “You are not going to stay in this academy as your home, I am so sorry. Your parents should have enough money to find you an apartment somewhere. A house, even.”

But the academy is her home, with its students that always greet her, with the library that she loves visiting and the kitchen that she feels like belongs to her. How could she simply leave home like that? She doesn’t think she remembers much of her past house, how it looked like and why it was supposed to feel candid and warm. If anything, it has been years since the last time she went back home. “B—But…Miss, I could stay here and really, I’ve prepared myself to teach literature perfectly. I swear—”

“No.” The Principal clicks her pen, opening a folder that read Daum’s name and information, along with some pictures as she grew up through the educational standards of the academy, just like a school. “I give you one month to leave. Find a man and I’ll consider having you teach the students,” She easily states. “Do not find a man, and you’ll leave without any job of any kind. Call your parents for money, if you don’t want to live off a man.”

Living off a man, what a distasteful title. “Please, don’t say that.”

The Principal rolls her eyes, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose before sighing. “Leave my office, please.” She says, looking up at the woman briefly before scribbling a big ‘X’ on the folder beneath her. “Do not come in here until you have either your engagement ring or your bags to leave. One month, after that I’ll call the police, and you don’t want to ruin your parents’ little legacy.”

Swallowing all the tears she wishes to drop, she bows before giving the same affirmative answer that she has been taught to give. Once outside of the office, the heat of the wind makes her feel uneasy, as if she is trapped in a box and is unable to leave, her lungs contract, her tongue itches, her fingers can’t stop moving, won’t stop moving even if she asks them to, her knees are wobbling with such intensity that they could look like she is losing all sense of sanity, dancing along to the problematic tune of reality. She thinks she sees Kihyun when she walks towards the kitchen, standing by the door as he waves at her, a smile on his face after giving a kiss to the woman he loves, but she feels envious. Not because she can’t have someone to love, for that is the least of her worries, but because she is being obligated to love someone just to be worthy.

Validation, that is what she needs and exactly what she thought she would get by showing her talents, her knowledge, the hours of hard work she put into books and reviews, only to be met by silence. Deafening, really, to the point one glass of water down her throat makes her feel like she is about to throw up. The idea of going back to her parents’ sounds terrible, another anarchy to have her dressed up in even tighter dresses to introduce herself to a world of money, such as politics, to be a robber amongst well-spoken manipulators. If she ends up in the streets, she doesn’t know what would happen—in that case, she would ask Kihyun and Jiahn for help, for in only two weeks they are going to get married, but in their new home, it would be difficult to have Jiahn’s friend over. Marriage is a matter of two people, not three.

She could find a job, that’s not the worst thing. Maybe, she could start working at the bakery at the end of the street, hope to save some money and perhaps, come up with a plan that was not given by the principal.

Two plans, that’s exactly what she needs.

Plan One: To find a job at the bakery, keep it as secret as possible and save up some money. That way, if she ends up being kicked out of the academy, she would have a kick-starter for an apartment of sorts, all on her own.

Plan Two: Or as she likes to call it, Jiahn’s plan. To look for a man that would be willing to act up as her husband, fiancé or at the very least, her boyfriend and see if she can get a position as a teacher. The academy needs more women of assertiveness, power held in strong voices.

Wielding herself with tears, she pushes the strands of her hair away from her face when she fights back the salty liquid to run down her cheeks, creating a path of hurt, pain, memories and conviction. The principle of being a woman goes past skirts, being born as one or simply loving a man, but the sixties were far too enclosed in their own opinions, afraid of the strength a new wave of people could bring to the world—people who were already there, but are now tired of such treatment.

Her hands rub at her face, not caring that her makeup smudges at the action—she can’t bring herself to be a lady, when people have torn her apart for it. The tears become one with her skin, dissipating in the thick air with such easiness, so much she wonders if this is what she is bound to feel, like her life is falling apart, not even rotating, not even moving, and if it moves, it is way too fast.

Fast, it moves, when she looks up thanks to the sound of barking. There, she sees the dupe of a Dalmatian, instead of black dots, the dog wears beautifully beige spots on his skin, jumping on his spot as he takes the brush from Changkyun’s hands.

Right, the house painter.

She saw him two days ago, and she had to see Lia talking about him nonstop, moving her hands so widely she thought they were going to fall. Lia says he is a prince, with that paint-cladded tank top he wears and that overly confident personality that is as wronged as faux fur, for it doesn’t fit him, neither is it cute. Also, he is an incredible slow worker—or maybe, the new house that is being built is just too big for just one person and his dog, who keeps wiggling his tail in excitement even though Changkyun is hissing at him.

But no, that can’t be the only men in the world. She has to think about the good men that she has met in her life, even if they seem to be nonexistent.

The feeling of a pencil in between her fingers, as well as glue, brings her back to the crafting days on her first day of elementary school—before she was ever introduced to the academy. Once she is brought back to that memory, she swears she feels the fingers of someone tugging at her hair, presumably at her braids, but she isn’t wearing braids at that moment. Then, she remembers the smile she used to see whenever she turned around in those days, being met by a guy who didn’t even know how to pronounce his name, but the kid was cute. Min-Guk, is how he introduced himself as, but his name is actually Minhyuk. He was nice, probably a bit out of his head, but dreamy to her young eyes. Too much of a prince and probably married. Pass.

The guy who sells milk every Monday at the street, always wearing that tacky white uniform and trying to get women to talk to him, only to be shushed away because he is not a potential man to date. There is no charisma, no romance, no elegance, no intelligence…just milk, really. She embarks in conversation with him every once in a while, interested in getting to know the farm that he frequents for his milk and how the industry works, but he is over forty…and really not her type. Maybe, if he was younger, she likes that awkward vibe on men that try a little bit too hard, but he is much too old for her.

Kihyun is getting married to her friend, so he is obviously out of the picture.

“Bruno!” Changkyun screams at the top of his lungs, running behind the dog as if to get the brush. That is probably what he is trying to do, really, but she can’t tell anymore.

It’s like life is telling her to go there.

After using a napkin to rub her tears away, checking on the mirror that her makeup is not that smudged—not that it’s there anymore—, she decides to go out of the academy. Some of the younger students are having a class outside, something that she can’t care about as she trails her eyes towards the good looking Changkyun, a house painter…sure, not the most outstanding of careers, but it is somewhat interesting the way he manages himself, running behind a dog and all. The house is incredibly pretty, as well, and she knows the owners; a family of six that are expecting to grow even more, so it is no wonder the space is so big.

Once she gets to the front yard of the house, she hears Changkyun complaining about something to his dog, who simply sticks his tongue out in excitement, thinking it is time to play with his owner. “What are you doing?”

The muscles on his shoulders tighten at a frenzy, looking back to spare her a glance before his features soften. One of his eyebrows quirk up when he takes the drool-covered brush on his hands, a small smile playing on his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually.”

Changkyun seems surprised by her answer, opening his mouth to say something before cutting himself off. He repeats this action repeatedly, sporting a shy smile soon after. “Painting. Duh.” He claims, going closer to the wall he was painting before his dog’s interruption. Bruno, she thinks its name is. “Don’t they teach you how to paint in your pretty doll house?”

She chuckles at his words, pointing with her thumb towards her home. “The academy, you mean?” The house painter gets to work once again, dipping the brush on the paint before sliding it across the wall. “They do. Really, we are not a dollhouse of any sorts.” She thinks of her words, biting down any type of opinion she should have, but…this is Changkyun, a man that she wouldn’t even imagine with a dressy, black suit on. “Some…Some of our students think it is, but I am not like that.”

The painter hums at her words, his tanned cheeks receiving a rose-gold color. She likes to think it’s because of her, but maybe it’s the Sun doing its wonders. “I would like to see that.” Changkyun comments, more likely talking about seeing her paint, but when he moves his hand to indicate his point further, his brush paints over her pretty baby blue dress, leaving a terrible white imprint. “Oh shit, I am so, so sorry!” His apologies fall quickly, just like how he unwraps a towel from around his neck to dab it on the material. Mind him, this is the same towel that he uses to wash his sweat and technically, it shouldn’t even reach her dress, but there he is, kneeling down in front of her as he rubs the material against the dress.

“Don’t be, really.” But she is speaking through gritted teeth. It is definitely going to be a headache to get that stain out.

This is not what her prince charming should be like, rubbing on her dress as if it is a table that has a coffee stain. “God, this dress is probably worth more than my salary. Geez…” Changkyun is talking to himself, looking up at her eyes while haltering his motions, only to give her a crooked smile. This is the enchanting part of him, the aftermath of his try-hard attempts, valuable and charismatic for his sweeter side, the one that he probably doesn’t show to a lot of people.

She laughs at his words. “It is.”

“I’ll pay for it! Just…give me time, okay?”

“No, no.” She tells him, taking the cloth from his hands and sniffing at the smell. God, what exactly is her concept of a prince charming?! The smell is horrid, quite clearly. She gives it back to him, right after taking him by the wrists to bring him up to his feet, which he does slowly, while still looking into her eyes. “I—This is not what I expected when I came here, but I’ll take it. It’s just a dress, just don’t rub it with your sweaty towel, please.”

Changkyun puts his towel around his neck once again before dumbly grinning. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’ll just have to pay it in another way.”

“What do you me—?”

“Miss!” Someone squeals from the academy and the two people conversing turn to look at the fourteen-year-old girl that waves to call for the attention of one of the older members of the academy. “Could you help me out with my homework, please?!” If the principal heard her speak like that, that student would be expelled immediately, if not scolded, but instead of waiting until that happened, she starts moving towards the academy quickly.

“Sure, sweet pea!” She tells the young girl, who smiles at either the nickname or the help, but once she is on the other side of the street, her eyes look for Changkyun, only to be met by the man who stares at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She squints her eyes, her hands reaching to fix the bow on her head before mouthing a small:

“We’ll talk later.”

And she really means it, because Changkyun is her last option.

⏰

“Tick, tock, darlin’.” The principal told her in her friend’s wedding, basically mocking her bridesmaid dress from the moment she put it on. Her expression was readable, all series of distaste and a sense of fortune in winning that never escapes her. The principal pointed at the clock that rested in the form of a necklace in her cleavage, showing her nothing but the exact time. “Two weeks until I kick you out of my academy. If Jiahn did it, so can you.”

That’s when it hit her. She had lost two entire weeks of her second plan, all for concentrating on the first one.

The good part of it all is that she gets to bake at a good spot, surrounded by flowers…from daisies to roses, all settled in her line of sight as she works with pastries. The mornings are the busiest, when her boss immediately makes her work the fastest she can. He needs the breads to be baked to its fullest potential, not too crunchy and not too soft, a good bite able to be a good companion for any moment of the day, whether it was the early hours of it or the late ones. The baker also told her to call him by his name, so more often than not, she shyly asks for his help when it gets to be too much. She shortens it, though, going for a brief ‘Woo’ whenever she needs him the most, and the man with the funny mustache answers immediately, sometimes calling her the sweetest names because she supposedly reminds him of his daughter, pure yet strong.

Whilst reading on the morning paper, her apron neatly tied around her neck, she likes to concentrate on the literature section, seeing what books are going to come next in the market, making sure to highlight the ones that interest her the most. Two in the afternoon, a time where the bakery is rarely visited and it is at this moment that Woo puts his music on loudly, making sure to dust off anything that surrounds the tables that his costumers used previously. He dances happily, humming to the tune in a way that calms her down. The Principal is whom she has always lived with, so seeing a man that is the complete opposite of what that woman is…feels like heaven.

“So I heard,” Woo initiates after turning off his music, his elbows resting atop the counter with his hard breathing interrupting his words. “Changkyun and his dog are leaving today. The house is almost finished, he is simply painting the insides and making sure everything is tidy and ready to go.”

She widens her eyes at that, be forgotten the new book that she is reading about, her lips parting at the reminder that her second plan includes him, and finding another man in less than two weeks is going to be a headache, much more with an eventful dinner being planned by the Principal as a way of celebrating the recent marriages and engagements. “W-Why? How? That house is huge!”

“Changkyun is a nice kid. I know his father, so if he is as equally as hardworking as him, then he is good.” The man seems unfazed by what he is saying, but she is interested beyond what she can explain. Something keeps pushing her towards Changkyun, call it idiocy for being so stubborn on being a teacher, or she is actually as attracted to him as she pretends not to be. “It’s weird, though.”

“What is?”

“Changkyun’s family is very educated, very studious. I am not sure why he is a house painter…”

She pushes the newspaper towards the edge of the counter, shrugging her shoulders at his statement. “The majority of us young people don’t become what our parents were or are.” She indicates, knowing well that Woo wouldn’t understand. The bakery is a family business, one well-earned at that, cozy and the most beautiful spot to spend some time in daily. A fresh reminder that things are going to be okay. “I have my lunch break right now, right?”

“You spent ten minutes of it reading that newspaper, but yes.” The baker points out, taking the newspaper in between his fingers and jokingly swatting it against her arm. “Stop reading studious stuff and go eat something. You worked hard.”

She licks her lips, looking through the pastries displayed through the glass before picking out two brownies, coated in the juicy texture of white chocolate syrup. Woo taught her his precise recipe, saying there is nothing better than what he adds, and indeed, the secret to the recipe gives it a bit of spice, perfect to wake sleepy students up. “I’ll pay for the extra one,” She indicates, pushing another one into a paper bag before sending a wave to Woo in the form of fluttery fingers. “I’ll see you in a bit, Woo.”

“Have fun with your boy!”

She shouldn’t be running on the streets and if any of the teachers in the academy see her, they will swat her hand with a ruler, telling her that a lady never rushes. Nonetheless, she wants to make sure Changkyun is still there, not that she gets a nice response at first, given that the entrance of the house is completely empty. The door is open though, widely so, and it smells like paint, a kick-starter of the fact that Changkyun might still be there. Her fingers clutch the paper bag, creating ugly folds on it, perhaps crushing the brownies, but she can’t bring herself to care, too reckless and desperate to even care about what she is going to ask to this stranger. Supposedly a nice guy, in Woo’s words.

Peaking her head inside, she doesn’t see anyone at first glance, until one wobbly step on the wood flooring makes a creaking sound and Bruno starts barking, quite loudly. Panic settles deep within her, much more when she hears human steps following after the dog, clear and fast, an indication of running. Changkyun goes down the stairs rapidly, only stopping when he catches a glance at the woman by the door, and even so, he doesn’t have the time to put on his ‘cool’ front.

“Uh, hi?” Changkyun asks casually, going the last row of stairs before patting Bruno’s fur with his hand. “I…Hi.”

“Hello,” She adds in between a sweet smile, holding the paper bag up for him to see. “I brought you some brownies so we could eat together.”

The man is even more confused by that statement, his eyebrows furrowing as he pushes his hair back. He is less sweaty, thankfully, but his skin is still painted in those red blotches caused by the heat. “Cool, but…why?” He tilts his head to the side, coming closer to get the bag from her hands and look inside it. Once he sees the brownies, she thinks she can see him licking his bottom lip, but maybe that’s just her mind speaking. After all, it is creepy to just come up to someone and offer him brownies, when all she has done is serve him meals at the bakery for the past two weeks, saying greetings and then, some brief goodbyes.

“Woo told me that you’re going to stop working here today.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Okay, you’re not making it easy on me.” She replies quickly, looking back to see if anyone is checking up on her from the academy, but everyone is on class right at that moment. The soft touch of the wind makes her sigh deeply, getting closer to Changkyun so their conversation falls in between their ears. “I need a favor from you.” After crossing her arms over her chest, she drops the bomb on him. Changkyun raises his eyebrows, his lips parting momentarily before one of his eyes closes at the touch of his bangs against it.

“Mhm, the one thing you told me I had to pay you with when I ruined your dress.” Changkyun questions, more so indicates, and she nods her head at his understanding. The man doesn’t seem to be faced by the statement, instead pointing to the edge of the stairs. “We can sit there and talk,” He starts and she lets her eyes trail towards the wooden material. “Sorry if it’s not a throne, Queen, but this is all I have here.” She chuckles at his sarcasm, taking a seat beside him. The sound of the paper bag being torn apart slightly to create two surfaces for the brownies is all she hears, watching as Changkyun carefully puts her brownie with a napkin and the paper bag underneath it on her lap.

“I am not some rich girl that is scared of sitting on a staircase.”

“Not that, though I do know you’re the child of politicians and very rich, too.” The intelligence that Changkyun possesses would not be expected from a house painter, but it is clear in the way he speaks. “But you’re in that academy. All girls that come out from that academy think they can only talk to rich people, and that’s true.”

“Questionable, but I see where you’re coming from.” She replies, slicing a bit of the brownie with her fingers to plop it inside her mouth, even though Changkyun is already delving on his treat. “I see you dislike the academy.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Education is important, but not when you teach…how to be a lady.” He spits the statement out as if it is a joke, and sometimes she thinks it sounds like it. “That’s bullshit.” Soon after, he laughs at what he says. “But you probably can’t say that word because ladies don’t curse or some shit like that. Nonsense, really.”

“I can say it.”

“Then, say it. Say something like shit, ass, asshole…”

“Shit?” She adds the word in the form of a question and Changkyun’s head immediately throws back at the sound of her voice, merely having a fun time by making fun of her.

“Thank you for the food, goody-two-shoes.” The man comments and soon after, she bites down on her bottom lip. The closeness between the two makes her feel warmer than ever, their knees touching ever so slightly, the type of intimacy that people often ignore, but it is felt nonetheless. Changkyun is much more good looking than people give him the benefit of, most of the time judged as some simple house painter. “What’s that favor that you want to ask me for?”

The moment of truth falls on top of her and with a shaky breath, she decides to be brave. The worst can already happen, and that is being kicked out of the academy—or her opportunity to be a teacher to be dismissed, exactly. “I want you to act.”

“Act?” He asks, pointing to his chest before scoffing. “Oh, baby, I’d do anything to get your attention, but I am no Tatsuya Nakadai.”

At the name of the actor, she scrunches up her nose. “Not even a tiny bit of a good actor?”

“I could try…” Changkyun trails his voice before nudging her side slightly. “For what kind of movie, though?”

At the sight on his face, she immediately catches why the smirk on his face is so prominent and she shakes her head quickly. “Not that!” The squeal that leaves her brings laughter to rumble on Changkyun’s chest once again, joyful of being there with her. “It’s actually…” Now that she is thinking about her idea, it sounds ridiculous. It damn right feels like she is out of her head, jumping on the oh-so-called field of happiness that her druggie friends have talked about once or twice, perhaps it is not that, but craziness itself. “Listen, I need a man to fake date me. And before you say anything, I really want to work as a teacher in my academy, but I won’t be accepted unless I show that I am capable of getting a man.”

Changkyun frowns at that and the open mindedness of him surprises her, because most men would have run away at the mere sound of the opportunity, unless given something else, but he is there, munching on his brownies before sighing. “You’re not capable of getting a man?”

“I-It’s not that—”

“Then, why can’t you get a man?”

“All the men I know are trashy…” She admits, pushing her head back to keep her hair away from her face. Now, she pushes more food to her mouth so she shuts up, but she doesn’t. With Changkyun, with Woo, with other people that are not part of the academy, she feels like she can speak without judgement. “With their suits and their wife concepts. I hate to have to deal with men that expect me to be something. I don’t want to have the expectations of wearing corsets and cooking for him, and stroking his ego just because I have to. That’s not me.”

The man pushes out a breath, in a sigh or in a huff, something along those lines. She doesn’t look at him, too afraid of the bowl of reality he is going to serve her immediately. “Because that is the type of men people like you are bound to meet. Rich, stupid guys who think they are better than everyone else.” His back rolls slightly, cracking a few articulations before he speaks up once again. “For how long do you need the fake boyfriend?”

At his remark, she lifts up her gaze. Something within her bursts, excitement or relief, maybe even fear. This is a complete stranger she is going to introduce as her boyfriend, after all. Insanity could never compare. “For…okay, for forever?”

“Oh…God…” Changkyun indicates before rubbing the back of his neck. “Do I have to go there or is it just using my name?”

“Go there.”

“No. Hell no.” The house painter stands up to his feet, pushing his piece of the paper bag to a trashcan nearby. “What do you want me to be? One of those preppy, stuck-up boys that go to your academy to meet girls? That’s not me. Why are you talking to me, anyway? You have a whole town of those at the center of the city. From anywhere around the world, you just have to look for them.”

For a moment, she ponders on leaving him alone, until the stubbornness clings to her once again. “Because…you’re the only man I know I…see as the type of man I would marry.”

“Marry?”

“You’d act as my fiancé, of course.”

“Okay, you’re drunk. You had your first try of alcohol and that is why you’re acting like this—”

Pushing herself off the stairs, she walks over to him before shaking her head. “No! Do I smell like alcohol to you?” That’s another thing she has tried. In the academy, women did things behind the principal’s back, drinking, smoking, hooking up, trying new things out, but she had never been like that. For the first time, she is doing something against the rules. “And it’s just for one night. I can just say we got married but that we live separately. Or that you broke the engagement or something. It’s just for one night.”

“One night of fake dating me?”

She presses her hands to Changkyun’s mouth after finishing her brownie, his soft lips dragging across her skin absentmindedly when she shushes him. “Don’t speak so loudly. People may hear you!”

Taking his hands in hers, he pulls her closer by the wrists before sighing. “Okay, goody-two-shoes. I’ll help you just because I know that dress was expensive shit and because I hope to get more good brownies like those for free.”

Batting her eyelashes out of complete surprise, she steps away slightly as a smile creeps up her face slowly. Changkyun rolls his eyes, for he is a man of honesty and down-to-earth matters, he doesn’t believe in a lot of the things she has grown to trust in, but blind is anyone that couldn’t tell these two are attracted to one another. “Thank you so much!” The happiness in her voice is clear, clasping her hands together before she feels Bruno walking in between her legs to stand in between the commotion. “I love your dog, but your dog can’t go to the dinner we’re supposed to be going to, okay?”

“I plead for some leftovers for Bruno.”

“I’ll cook him an entire meal if that’s what you want.”

Reaching down to grasp Bruno’s paw in between his fingers, he smiles. “We’re getting meals, Bruno. We’ve made it.”

A sense of calmness leaves her, one that she thought she had until she realizes Changkyun is not the type of man people in the academy would accept. A house painter, not cladded in suits the majority of the time—if every, really—and just a little bit inappropriate with his wording.

Good things never come without some hard work, she supposes.

“I’ll leave now, okay? Pass by the bakery tomorrow and we can talk about what we’re going to do. Eight on the dot.”

Changkyun looks up at her, standing up so quickly he loses his balance before humming. “Yes. Honey, bunny, apple of my eye, left butt-cheek to my right butt-cheek, precious being—”

While she walks towards the door, she shakes her head. “Baby was alright, the rest…is not what I want.”

“Okay, kitty cat.”

“No!”

This isn’t really going to be easy.

⏰

“I am engaged.”

“What?!”

The stages of disbelief show through people’s faces, as readable as a popular fiction book, and she learned about them after confirming—in different times to different people—that she is going to “get married”. First is the audible response, normally followed by a tilted head, something as simple as a noise that slips past that person’s lips, wanting to hear what has already been told into the universe, looking for some form of doubt. Following is the silent response, a blink, a quirk of their eyebrows, a smile, a frown, all placements of this stage, equally as nerve-wrecking as the other. Finally, there is denial and she has to fight this one, completing her set of lies with another group of them just to make it believable.

The only one who knows the truth, and only because she was unable to make him believe her, was Woo. According to his precise knowledge of being an old man, father of someone who acts exactly like her, one can just tell that she is lying—the situation has moved on far too quickly for her liking, too forced, and that is not like her. Changkyun, although very handsome and charming if you squint, is not the type of person to change that, if anything, he’d just shrug his shoulders at her manners, thinking that people are the way they are because that’s how life asks them to be. She doesn’t find it in her to burn his allegations with facts, indicating that for the past three days, Changkyun has been going to the bakery before going over to his next job, not even near her workplace to start with, always slipping food in his mouth as she speaks, partly about the plan and also about his health. Sweets are just not the go-to breakfast.

Changkyun doesn’t listen, saying he is stronger than diabetes, and he goes off once again, away from her whilst promising her that Thursday is the day they meet at his apartment to practice their act of a couple at the dinner they shall attend.

Getting out of the academy late at night with a suitcase hanging from her arm is already difficult on its own, with the teachers sparing her glances while she laughs nervously. Before anyone could ask her anything, she springs out of the door and into the crisp air of the night, thanking her tights for keeping her legs warm, but wishing she could wear a pair of pants that could keep her warm at such a time. The night is eventful, dark and with a gorgeous sight of the moon, yellow and near enough it feels like she could grasp it within her fingertips, holding it as a beautiful memory of difficult times.

Someone calls for her name, the tone deep and somewhat hushed, for she told him to wait for her by the bakery and not to make a lot of noise, considering the people at the academy could be listening. She rushes towards him, almost falling on her steps if it wasn’t for Changkyun’s arms extending on each side of her body, eyes wide as he speaks:

“Be careful,” He tells her, looking at their surroundings to make sure no one is seeing them. For a moment, she thinks that Lia is right: Changkyun is the new version of a prince. Oversized striped shirt tucked underneath a pair of pants, belt making sure that it keeps in place, his hair is parted slightly and he does not dare to sleek it back like most men of his generation do, but his face under the gleaming lights of the stars is a sight to never forget. “If falling on these streets is easy, imagine how easy it is falling for me.” Changkyun adds, silent meeting his statement as she lifts her gaze to look into his eyes. “No?”

“Not even one bit. I didn’t like it.” She continues, a smile blossoming on her face when she wraps her arm around his, turning him around so they are facing away from the academy. “Take me to your palace, poor excuse of a prince.”

“…Excuse of a prince,” Changkyun scoffs, as if it is ridiculous of her to speak in such a way. His eyes cast down on her as they walk the streets towards his home, peace of mind and soul in the form of awkward, softly spoken conversations. “Princes wish they were as cool as me.”

His apartment is unexpectedly cozy for such a secluded, small place. The white walls remain intact, clear as the day they were painted, highlighting some pictures he taped to the surface—some of them places he says he wants to go to, others pictures of his friends, some with his family. A shoebox would be more of a comparison, where his apartment starts, it also ends, a small kitchen at the corner of the room, separated by doors that led to their respective spots. He apologizes for the mess over his table, the lack of living room not a problem for her as she watches Changkyun diligently cleaning up such a big part of his life. What a person reads is what makes them, and she sees that Changkyun is always looking for a second, third or even fourth job, using a red pen to encircle whatever catches his attention, what he thinks he is capable of doing. In the table, she sees cut-outs of coupons, all in things he wouldn’t even need—but hey, if he found them, it’s for a reason.

Dragging the seat across from him, Changkyun starts talking about the absurdities of life while brewing some hot chocolate. His back is turned to her, delicate and broad, the two slices of reality she liked in a man’s physique, to bring her both edges of a well-rounded person. His fingers are what catch her attention, skinny and average sized, though they move with chillness, all worries thrown into the Sun the moment the night arrives. His voice lowers when he wants to impress her, she notices, handling himself well when he rants about how his family consists of university professors, medals and diplomas surrounding his house and while he doesn’t live up to that, he’s proud of where he comes from.

“And why didn’t you study in university?” She asks, watching as Changkyun turns around to lean his hands on his small counter, crossing one leg over the other and she gulps on the small bit of saliva she has inside her mouth, gone dry long ago at the mere sight of him. Her words could shush him as a man of the rest, but she hasn’t actually looked at someone that had made her feel like she craves for his touch, or his validation in one way or another. The desire to have him projecting the same interest in her aches within her, hanging on to the small threads of curiosity he had shown before.

“There’s plenty of that already…at least, in my family. Not that it makes education any less important but,” Changkyun stops a moment on his words, hissing at what he is trying to say before moving his hands slightly. Legs as long as a highway, enticing her at just a glance, wondering how someone like him as such poise in his way of standing. Hands that she wishes to have on her, caressing a few strands away from her hair, holding her hand, even hugging her as tightly as he wants, for the days in which she feels lonely, which are not many, in her opinion. And now, a serious expression that can’t take away from her mind, for Changkyun is ever serious. “I want easy money, that’s one thing.” The confession makes her chuckle, watching as a smile takes over his face again just in time for him to hide it by turning around, picking up two mugs and filling them with hot chocolate and marshmallows. “But painting is fun. Really, people think most of us house painters only do the job to check girls out on the streets and just scratch our asses, but I see past that.” Thick is the smell of chocolate and damn her for even believing Changkyun was not capable of making a tasty hot chocolate, for a piece of calmness is brought to her in the shape of another sweet treat, all courtesy of the not-so-sweet guy she is fake dating, by now. “I’m not a good painter, like I can’t draw for the life of me…”

“Uh huh.” She urges for him to continue, taking the small spoon Changkyun gives her before swirling the contents of the hot chocolate around.

“So when I told my mom she was like: “Changkyun, are you fucking out of your mind?! That was Picasso that was actually good, not you!”.” Imitation is the worst kind of compliment, she believes, and the faux high voice Changkyun uses to portray his mother has her laughing at how bad it is. “I decided house painter would pay the bills, and I would get to be somewhat of an artist without having to live with the criticism of being bad.” Before sitting down, the man stands up quickly, his eyes widening comically. “Let me get Bruno out of my room because he’ll start crying if he hears us talk and he’s not here.”

“They let you have Bruno here?”

“Yes,” Changkyun sarcastically adds as he opens the door, the white dog sprinting towards her to rest his paws on her legs. Her fingers hold on his ears, playing with them slightly but her entire concentration is on Changkyun. Some smiles are able to heal any type of pain, and the anxiousness she felt when deciding to go out at night with her fake boyfriend was unbearable, the ache on her eyes a clear indicator of her lack of sleep, along with the redness that reaches the inner corner of it. He makes her feel better, however, much more when he takes his seat in front of her, legs intertwining with hers thanks to the small table. “As long as they don’t know Bruno is not actually a dude. That’s why I named him after a person, I wanted my landlord to think Bruno is human.”

Whilst blowing on the cup of coffee, she decides to speak up. “Your secret is safe with me.” Though Changkyun doesn’t answer with anything more than a wince after burning his own tongue, sticking it out to let the air soothe the throbbing discomfort. “Be careful with that. You have to know some table manners, Changkyun.”

“I know ‘em.”

“Then, why don’t you use them? You just burnt your tongue—”

“Because I wanted hot chocolate.” The man whines, making her roll her eyes as she takes a small sip of the drink, only to click her tongue against the roof of her mouth thanks to the burning sensation. “See? Manners or not, heat exists!”

“Stop.”

Her movements seek to fix her legs, not wanting to be impossibly close to Changkyun in an uncomfortable way, but her knee grazes his thigh softly, making the man raise his eyebrows questioningly after taking another sip of his drink, this time smaller. Changkyun has one of those moments where he loses his character of a guy with so much confidence that it radiates off him, and one glance at her ashamed face is enough to have him sighing. His fingers glide down until they rest on top of her knee, moving it at the same time that he drags his seat back, their knees interlocked at the end of the effort. “Here we go,” The faint whisper is dry, making his voice sound impossibly appealing. “Comfier?”

“Yes, sorry.” She mumbles quickly before clearing her voice. Although the situation is embarrassing, she doesn’t want anyone at the dinner to realize there is a visible line of awkwardness in between the two. For a couple that supposedly fell in love in just three weeks, they have to act rushed and dizzily in love. “So, I brought that suitcase with a suit that you can try on later, but for now, I am going to ask you some questions and we’ll talk about our preferences. You have to know my entire life story; I have to know yours. Your tastes, what you like, what you don’t…and vice versa, alright?”

“Alright, Mrs. Im.” The name makes her frown deeply, a shaky breath leaving her lips whilst Changkyun smiles dumbly. “Sorry, I thought since—you know, we’re pretending to be fiancés, you’d end up having to use my last name…but…”

“Okay, I’ll have to get used to Mrs. Im.”

“Don’t say it.” The man adds after a chuckle. “It sounds weird. Let’s avoid saying that.”

“Agreed.”

Friends have never been a problem for her, she has had them, mostly women or their boyfriends, but having someone like Changkyun is different. They are not exactly friends, but whenever they talk to each other, any trace of awkwardness bursts into laughter, creating an atmosphere better than any candle lit romance. In the realm of her insecurities, Changkyun lives up to the expectation of remembering her tastes just after she tells him everything he needs to know. Her favorite color comes easily to him, as if he has seen her wear the shade time and time again. His lips wrap around the name of her first pet prettily, and remembers the story about how the principal had it kicked out because pets aren’t allowed in the academy. Enjoyment is what he shows through his expression, listening to her every word with his lips parted—like they always are—and his eyes concentrate on her, leaving no room for hesitance.

His mouth is runny as he speaks about his life, boosts about the important bits that he thinks are the most outstanding, some jokes thrown here and there that would have had her choking on her hot chocolate if she hadn’t finished it so soon. Changkyun has that magic within him, ones that people never talk about his fairytales, to be charismatic but in the most realistic of ways, bringing taboo topics to light and making it seem normal. Talking, to him, is a form of sanity more than an element of bonding, thinking that laughter is exactly what people need. Going as far as saying that it is what she needs.

The easiest part to remember about him is his distaste for anything that has to do with the academy. “You can do so much better. Be a teacher in a real school, that would be better.” He says, but the words die down on her throat with stubbornness. She needs to feel like her time in the academy was worthy, that she showed the Principal that she is better than whatever had been envisioned about her.

Just as they are about to leave, Changkyun insisting on getting a taxi back to the academy, they are reminded of the suitcase that had been coated in small speckles of dust through their conversation. She pushes the suit Kihyun had gifted her for him towards his body, watching his pout grow at the sight of a suit. Tank tops are his uniform, he says whilst he locks himself in the bedroom, and her mind goes to the branches of possibilities from this outcome. Surely, Changkyun has been having free pastries at the bakery ever since he agreed to be her fake fiancé, but something as difficult as that couldn’t simply be paid with brownies. Maybe, deep within him he just wants to spend some time with her…but…

No!

She erases the thought before she can further delve in the depths of romance. Ever said before, she knows romance is not for her—not the touches, not the commitment, not the non-committal part of it. Not because she is not capable of getting it, but because she doesn’t think she would be able to make it last, too ambitious to ever want to be glued to a man’s side.

The door opens widely, in such a rushed manner that she thinks Changkyun might have gone insane in there. His fingers hold the doorknob as he lifts one of his legs to hold in front of her gaze, the shortness of the fabric surprising her.

“You got this from the kid’s section?” Changkyun asks and she chuckles loudly, imagining the embarrassed expression Kihyun would have on his face if he was there.

“No. It’s my friend’s.” She comments, tugging him closer by the vest of the suit before clearing her throat. “The vest is not so bad.”

“The blazer fits me like a crop top!” Always the complainer, he adds, pushing the confines of his shoulder pads with his fingertips. “And this brassier in my shoulders, I don’t even know what it is, but it is not pretty on me or anyone under the age of a hundred.”

“Changkyun—”

“Baby, listen, just listen.” Pushing her away slightly, he turns around to lift the blazer slightly to show the high waisted dressy pants. “I don’t have enough ass for this pair of pants, sorry.”

Her eyes linger on the way the suit fits him, just not for him in the slightest, but she would never dare to say that, although he doesn’t see it, she thinks the size of his body and its proportions are just the type she likes. “Okay, we’ll have to go suit shopping this weekend.” She comments, swatting her had as if it is nothing before ordering him to turn around. “The bottom wasn’t so bad, though. You’re just exaggerating.”

“Say ass.”

“Why?”

“Bottom is so…so old lady, come on.” The man pushes, nudging her side with his finger only to have her scrunching up her nose.

“The ass wasn’t so bad. Happy? Now take me home, please.” Speaking in a rush, Changkyun’s smile widens at the sound of her voice before cooing at it.

“My pretty ass is taking you home, even if these pants don’t do me justice.”

She wants to retract on the fact that she ever thought Changkyun was not confident, for the man has his moments where his ego is taller than any skyscraper she could have ever visited as the daughter of politicians, and that is a lot to say.

⏰

Lesson two starts badly when Changkyun says:

“John Lennon is going to leave The Beatles someday. Mark my works.”

“That’s it. Get out of my home.”

She doesn’t kick him out, really.

In the dead of night, she pushes Changkyun inside of the academy, aware that most people are already asleep and that it is a high possibility that Changkyun won’t find a way to go back home if it’s not by walking, considering that taxies don’t roam around the city at midnight. Like a dream he looks, until he starts to talk as she preps the settlement of the dinner she prepared for the two, arranging the plates and the utensils for them to practice his table manners. It seems like he is far more interested about teasing her about her love of a band, constantly bringing up the fact of their separation. In some moment, when she finally closes the door of the kitchen so they couldn’t be heard, she slaps one of the forks against his head.

His mouth never shuts up, he never thinks about what he is going to say, but he simply says it. He wants to get to know the world far more than it is intended, for he thinks there are higher beings and conceptualizations that no one gets to notice, but he deems himself as powerful enough to get to know them. She listens intently, although Changkyun is talking a lot while she pours two glasses of orange juice, making sure to softly lift the chair from the flooring so it wouldn’t drag once she sits down.

“We are just one dimension; you know?” Changkyun says as he picks up his fork, but instead of twisting the utensil around to grab a bite of food, he simply places as much spaghetti as he desires inside his mouth. “Even in these meatballs, there may be smaller beings than us living their own lives. This word is filled with life and we think we are the only ones that matter.” He scoffs, the sauce of the pasta clinging to the side of his face and she chuckles at his antics. Her stomach folds when she reaches for him over the table, sweeping the sauce off his skin with her fingers before cleaning them on her napkin. “What?” Changkyun’s eyes widen when he looks at her, slowly descending back into her spot before placing her napkin over her lap.

“You’re eating like a dog.”

“Bruno and I share more things than an apartment, I guess.” The man jokes around, watching as a huge smile glues itself to her face. Some would dare to say it’s his effect and only Changkyun’s, to flutter her heart with a simple smile, to caress it with his words and keep it safe with his antics. He is opening up, and she doesn’t have the time to stop herself from following after his steps. “So, lesson two is about eating?”

Taking her fork in between her fingers, she shakes her head. “Table manners, Changkyun.” She tells him, fluttering her eyelashes before reaching for his hand with her free one, making sure that he is holding the fork correctly. “You want to slice a bit of the meatball first, because you don’t want to leave something out of the plate before you start eating.”

“That’s what people say before eating ass,” Changkyun indicates and she scrunches up her nose out of disgust, watching as he tries to control his laughter in silent shaking. “My bad. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Also, don’t say stuff like that.” However, her fake fiancé follows after her step, slicing a bit of the meatball before lifting his gaze to look at her as she speaks. “And you poke it.”

“Poked it.”

“Stop narrating what you do.”

“Stopping.”

Whilst rolling her eyes, her smelling senses remind her that she hasn’t eaten, In the depth of the night, they are two faint shadows bathed in the glow of a yellow light, the little stars dancing at the tune of their fake love, roaming around to hear their muffled steps, the candid laughter, the birth of a friendship. The beauty of something new that she hasn’t experienced, although very different from what she has already lived, brings some sense of purpose to her. “Now, after poking the meatball, you want to roll the spaghetti on the base of the fork. This way, you’re getting both parts of it, you don’t make the cook feel bad and you’re eating just enough. And you don’t have to slurp.” She comments, watching Changkyun’s fingers as they move quickly, wanting to get everything done with—or perhaps, he is just as hungry as she is.

After doing as she says, she notices that he eats with his mouth slightly open, but that is not much of a bother anymore. “Slurping is a big part of eating. It shows people you enjoy what they’re eating,” Changkyun tries to reason, already reaching for the glass of juice before he downs the bite he took of food, but she stops him by placing her hand on top of his.

“One thing at a time.” The scolding tone on her hushed voice has Changkyun swallowing quickly before taking a sip of the orange juice. “And don’t choke on your food. It’s not going anywhere, geez.”

“Okay, now that I learned how to use a fork. Can I eat normally?”

She shakes her head, following after her instructions to eat before speaking up. “There is more to table manners than you think, and since you were working this week, we couldn’t practice sooner. Now, you only have one more week to become the perfectly put boyfriend.” She tells him, watching as Changkyun’s expression turns into one of boredom. Her feet kick his calf under the table, hearing him release a shaky breath before she interlocks their legs, just like they did in his house. “First, you have to greet the people at the table. Not all of them individually, say a greeting, way until the oldest people sit down and you sit before the youngest, of course.” She indicates, hand movements a reminder of how many times she has gone through this lesson in her life. What a lady does to seem posh and put-together. “Be nice, help people with serving drinks and try not to make a mess. Always place your napkin on your lap,” Changkyun follows after her instructions, letting the piece of fabric fall on his lap. “And eat at your pace. Talk to people as you eat, don’t take too little, but don’t take too long.”

“Everything has to be perfect in this place,” Changkyun releases a big breath before doing exactly what she told him. “You prepared this, I imagine?”

“I did.” The embarrassment on her face is clear. “You don’t like it.”

“I love your cooking. What the hell are you talking about?” Raising one of his dark eyebrows, Changkyun lifts his body slightly before dragging his seat across the floor in the most silent way he could do it, sitting by her side on the table before resting his head against his free palm, the other one slicing a bit of a meatball. “As delicious as my beloved fiancé.”

“Ew, Changkyun—”

“Yeah, that was disgusting.” Changkyun chuckles at his own words before filling his mouth with more food, his knee resting beside hers and moving in a bit of a frenzy. Her mind makes out the idea of Changkyun feeling a bit nervous now that the date of the dinner is approaching, but that is almost impossible. “Can I ask for something?”

“Go ahead.”

“I really don’t want to say the cheesy lines.”

“I never asked for cheesy lines, Kyun.”

As if releasing all the weight of his body in a sigh, Changkyun slumps back on his seat with happiness. The sight alone is enough to make her coo inside her mind, thinking that he looks like a daydream whenever he wants to, even if he acts like a nightmare. At her stare, the man straightens his back before putting a single bit of spaghetti inside his mouth, trying to speak with the piece stuck in between his lips. “Let’s do a competition.” She hums at what he says, swallowing her food down. “Whoever slurps on a noodle faster has to gets to have another glass of orange juice.”

She chuckles at his words, but instead of denying the offer, she puts a noodle in between her lips, laughing at her reflection on Changkyun’s shiny, happy eyes. “I could serve you another glass if you want. We don’t have to compete.”

“One, two, three, go!” Of course he is faster, smiling widely when the noodle disappears in between his lips and he claps his hands together as softly as he can, soon after grabbing her face with his hands to show more of his pride off. “What does it feel like to lose?”

“It—”

“Lady!”

That is not the Principal’s voice, for the owner of the academy is far too old to even be awake at eleven at night, but one of the oldest teachers calls out for her, making her stand up from her spot immediately, as if she had just been kicked in the guts by reality. This situation has happened to a lot of people in the academy, most worse than she has had it—tangled in sheets, kissing in the laundry room, sometimes even doing so much as talking, but it has never happened to her, loveless as it gets. The old woman with rollers on her hair is so filled with rage her steps make the strands of her hair move, her fists tightening at the mere sight of the ‘couple’ being so close.

“Lady, I think it’s explicitly clear that we do not accept visits of boyfriends or fiancés to the academy late at night. It’s inappropriate.” This is the life that was picked for her, to be a ‘lady’, so polished and perfect that she is not human. She makes a sound of acknowledgment, lowering her gaze as she mumbles that Changkyun was about to leave, only to gasp when the man shakes his head from his spot, taking a big mouthful of spaghetti and meatballs.

“Nah,” He speaks in between a bite, making the two women in front of him scowl. “What is so inappropriate about me eating spaghetti with my fiancé? It’s not like we’re having sex on the ta—”

“Kyun!” She complains, pressing her lips together to send daggers his way, but Changkyun is a warrior, simply shielding himself and ignoring the stare she gives him. “Teacher, I will make sure to have him out the door in a second. We were just eating, like he said.”

The teacher scoffs, her wrinkled expression making Changkyun even more annoyed. She swears she hears him curse as she puts his plate away, along with hers, to serve the leftovers on a plastic container for him to take back home. “Yes, just eating. I didn’t know eating was the way of getting pregnant.” For a brief moment, the calmness of silence fills her, but Changkyun is not the type to stay silent when he is feeling threatened, so it doesn’t surprise her when he speaks only a few seconds after.

“It depends,” He intelligently says as his ‘girlfriend’ pushes him out of the kitchen, but he takes the moment to turn his back to look at the old teacher in the kitchen. “If you’re eating someone’s d—”

“Changkyun!” She says a little bit louder, taking him by the hand and leading him towards the entrance. Once the door of the kitchen is closed, Changkyun’s angry expression changes into one of fulfillment, waltzing in his step because he lives for making authorities burn in their own anger. However, once he looks at her, he realizes that there may be more to that statement. Standing in front of the door, she doesn’t know if she has to laugh at the situation or be terrified that the Teacher will end up telling the Principal and she is going to lose her job. “I am sorry. This academy…we have set rules and all.”

“Yes, it’s not your fault.” He tries to reason, hearing the rustling of a bag as she hooks it around his finger. The contents are, of course, the container with spaghetti and the full bottle of orange juice. It’s what he deserves, she tries to reason with herself. “I better get going before they tell us that looking at each other will get us pregnant.”

A brief chuckle leaves her lips at his words, leaning forward to rest her lips on top of his cheek, kissing it softly as a goodbye. “I enjoyed our short dinner.”

“We could have a real one soon. I’ll have to see if I have a free night and all…” The man whispers, watching as the Teacher comes up from the kitchen to glare at him. Only to make her even angrier, he leans down to press a kiss to his ‘fiancé’s’ cheek, leaving a burning sensation along with stickiness, all the pleasantries put into his tiny bit of mischief. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Bye.” As always, Changkyun’s back welcomes her with a good sight, letting her gaze trail down as she dreamily stands by the door. Someone clearing her throat behind her makes her stay away from her daydreaming, closing the door to talk to the Teacher. “I am so sorry I brought someone over at this time. Please, don’t tell the Principal—”

With a sigh, the Teacher fixes the rollers on her head. “I won’t.” The old woman points out. “Tell your terrible fiancé that the dinner has been rescheduled to three weeks from now, because some of the parents won’t be able to make it. Yours included.”

The thought of not having her parents over makes her smile, for she knows she will get even more judgement and arguments if they see her with someone they don’t approve of. Instead, she nods her head, rushing towards the stairs to go to her room. “I can’t thank you enough, Teacher.” She says whilst haltering her steps, letting her head rest against the railing of the staircase. “Have a nice night.”

Changkyun would tell her otherwise, though, but that is the magic of their fake relationship. They are so different and unfitting that they would have to really try to make anyone believe they are together.

⏰

There are memories that will forever be by her heart, engraved in such clarity that she feels like she can relive them, and her wish can only be to live up to that expectation. With the sun setting, yellow turning a rosé colored hue, mixed with orange and small droplets of blue, she thinks of the nicest memories of the past year. Her degree, for starters, received by the best of the best in the academy, all h0nors in her education, is one of the memories she loves the most. The moment one of the members of the academy fell in love, so truly and beautifully that it shakes her, just like Jiahn’s wedding. Countryside visits, all with the people that she grew up with, and the teachers that either left the academy or the spot by her side.

She would have never thought that having friends outside of the academy would come so fast and yet, so comfortably. Perhaps, she shouldn’t give either Woo or Changkyun the title of friends too soon, but it feels like those people have liked her for far more than just her manners; past the stuffy dresses and the fake smiles, a situation in her life brought a new set of memories with it, stronger and more vivid each and every single time.

In her little box of memories, implanted deeply in her heart, she wants to draw the shape of Changkyun—with his back turned to her, like always, not because he means it…but because their meetings are always cut short. With her magic pencil, she would draw the curve of his lips, always parted thanks to his mouth-breathing habit, paired with the wide nose that sometimes gets dusted by the graze of a shade or a color. His eyes, albeit prettily looking at her even if he doesn’t mean it, are always interested in the world that surrounds him. Not only the physique of him, she wants to portray, she also wants to bring the huge amount of things she has learned about him in just two weeks.

Two weeks of knowing Changkyun hates suits, but he also adores reading a good science fiction book. He prefers movies, quite clearly, and can’t sit through a children’s film without crying his eyes out. He doesn’t admit it, the clumsiness that he says is nonexistent within him, but she sees it shine in its brightest lights at every given moment that they have spent together on the daily for two weeks. Right now, as he is in his zone, in his own way of being an artist, painting another house just a few minutes before their date is due, he looks at her with a smile on his face, giving her his painting brush.

“Please, don’t ruin another one of my dresses.”

Changkyun scoffs at her words, looking up and down her body before shaking his head. “Don’t say that out of context ever again. I’ll end up laughing.” His voice is soft, for some reason after she has apologized profusely about having him kicked out of the academy a few nights ago, he feels a little bit more lightweight, much more knowing that they are going to a ‘date’ in a place that he enjoys. Although, he completely ignores her tries of pushing him to buy his suit sometime this week. “This is my favorite part,” Changkyun initiates. “The last bit that needs to be painted. It’s relaxing, in some way, and it teaches me I can actually finish something and change a place with my own version of art.” The deep meaning of such a mundane action sounds foreign in Changkyun’s lips, who simply drags her closer to him before standing behind her. “Come on, paint the last bit.”

“What if I ruin it?” She asks insecurely, looking back at Changkyun who is glancing at her, chuckling at her antics.

“How are you going to ruin an entire wall by just painting one line?”

“I don’t know, you tell me!”

“Well, you fucking can’t.” Changkyun tells her, taking her by the elbow to lift her arm up towards the small bit that is unpainted. “Do it.”

A shaky sigh is what she gives him, running the brush over the small bit of the wall before giving the brush back to him. “There, I did it.” She tells him, perhaps a little bit scared of seeming dumb or simply having him laugh at her way of acting, but Changkyun simply smiles, putting the brush down on a container with some liquid inside it, perhaps to clean it up. His fingers reach for his backpack, unzipping it to get his shirt out of it, putting it up his body to cover his black tank top.

“Let’s get going, then.” Changkyun tells her, making sure to grab the keys of the house and locking it behind them. She feels weird whenever she is around Changkyun, because he has brought a version of herself that she never shows to anyone to light, and he acts nonchalant about it—if anything, he likes to see her as more than just a ‘lady’ or ‘the girl that gives him pastries’ or ‘Woo’s employee’. In his eyes, she thinks she is an interesting person, and that is something no one has ever thought about her. “You’re so going to love this place.”

Walking by his side, she hums at his words. “What makes you think that I’m even going to love something that is not rich, perfect, stuck up like myself?”

“Because you’re rich, but not stupid.” Changkyun tells her, looking up at the sky to have the colors of the sunset falling upon his skin. Now, the color is a softer shade of pink, melting into purple. “You know, you’re one of the few rich people in the world I have actually talked to and haven’t looked at me like I am some scum.”

“You’re not scum.” She points out, resting her hands inside the pockets of her skirt before sighing. “And I’m not the typical rich girl.”

“I can see that.”

“I’m a lady.”

“No, you’re not.” Changkyun adds in between laughter, finally sharing a glance towards her. His eyes are the most beautiful part of him, because he is always joking around, speaking his mind out in such a messy mannerism that she finds herself groaning at his words most of the time, but in his eyes, she can see intelligence. “Ladies in your academy are taught to be the equivalent of a piece of cardboard. You’re cool.” She smiles at his words, turning on a street as she follows his steps. “I wouldn’t have accepted the whole fake dating thing if I was embarrassed of the woman I would be paired up with, but…you’re nice.”

“Just nice?” She raises an eyebrow at his words, pulling one of her hands away from her pocket to drag him closer, wrapping her arm around his as they did on their first night out to his apartment. “You can do better.”

Changkyun seems surprised by the bustling confidence that she feigns to have, a habit that she is trying to take from him, but instead of clinging to the surprise, he laughs at her words. “Nice. That’s all you are. Nice.”

“Changkyun!”

Lowering his head slightly, as if to keep the secret in between the two, he sends a kiss in the form of words. “And gorgeous, inside and out. I look at your intestines and I’m like: mhm, what a fucking woman!”

“…You prick.”

“Asshole, you mean.”

“Ass…hole.”

“That’s it. Swear all you want, baby.”

A part of him radiates from the restaurant that he brings her to, even when it is totally inspired by some type of city in Spain, red and gold and loud with tango playing in the background. People are dancing, some are drinking and a few are eating, leaving a lot of work for the bartenders and very little to do for the waiters or waitresses. It’s just like Changkyun, difficult to miss out on, and he seems to be at ease even with the loud music, taking a seat in a place near people, wanting to feel like he is accompanied in the eventful night.

One would think Changkyun doesn’t know much about food, but he claims to be an expert about what is good. Fried food, that is his concept of a good meal, sitting by her side to point out the dishes that he enjoys the most, and all have the description previously told before its title. Excited he is, promising one hell of a night by teasing her with the idea of dancing as closely as those couples do in the dance floor, but she swats the idea away by laughter.

The staff seem to know Changkyun by the time he orders, calling him by his name and even going down and hugging him out of affection. The orders he gives must be his usual—seriously, she worries about his health—, for the waiter is gone by the time she opens her mouth to thank him. “You really seem to be popular around here.”

“I sang one or two songs here once,” Changkyun tells her, leaning back on his seat and extending his arms to rest his palm against her shoulder. The touch makes her feel comfortable, a burning sensation going up her stomach and burning at her heart. “I was low on money, still figuring out the whole painter thing and they needed a guy to sing. I know the chefs and the workers here.”

She bites on her bottom lip after what he said. “I didn’t know you sing.”

“Huh, I do many things.” The boisterous way he speaks about himself has her smile dropping as she shakes her head, sometimes tired of the way he changes every situation to a joke. “I’m kidding!” He tells her, grasping her shoulder tightly and moving her from side to side. “Tonight, I’m going to teach you how to eat like a real person.”

A throwback of Changkyun’s eating makes her turn to him with a petrified expression. “No forks?” The cuteness of her tone is supposed to have Changkyun melting at her remark, but he nods his head rapidly.

“Just our fingers, dude.”

“That sounds nasty.”

“It’s not, liven up!”

Changkyun is the type of man that wants to give her whiplash with this new sight of a new world she has gotten to see, stuffing more food into her plate just so she picks more up and puts it up to her lips. Laughing at her antics, complimenting her and embarking on conversation, there is never a dull moment for this pair of strangers. From far away, anyone could see the happiness in her expression, a new shade of makeup that she has never used, pushing at his chest when he gets her to the dancefloor simply to dance horribly, claiming that he has taken tango classes when it is clear he hasn’t (“Kyun, you know tango dance is actually from Buenos Aires and not anywhere from Spain, right?” “…Of course, I know all the stuff about tango dancing. I just look like a tango dancer, don’t I?” “Why did I even pick you as my fake boyfriend?”, they argue on the dancefloor).

The bill is on him, the sunset turning into the deep night, the smell of rain lingering on the air even when, through the fun times, she couldn’t even tell that it had rained. Changkyun is by her side, talking her ears off about something when in reality, she is just watching how his lips move with every word, perhaps a little bit buzzed on excitement and happiness. He steps on puddles absentmindedly, like he does not give a damn about his shoes or getting them dirty, so she does just exactly that, finding that she doesn’t care about the heels getting a bit stained. Not all days had to be perfect, she shouldn’t have to be caged at all times.

“I hope you had a great time.” Changkyun says when they near the academy, dragging his steps to make the moment longer and a huge breath leaves her lungs, because the concept of a great time has changed entirely for her.

“This is the first time I’ve felt like this,” The confession she gives him has him beaming with the same happiness, falling into a sweet grin that she would like to photograph to keep in her room, taped to the walls just like Changkyun has in his apartment. “You know, as a student in my academy, I don’t really get to go out at night. Or step on puddles. Or just eat without forks and knives and spoons. And it’s stupid, I realize now that it’s really stupid.”

“Stepping on puddles is all you care about?” The young man questions in between laughter and he watches as she does so, giggling at her own antics.

“It’s damn fun.”

“It damn right isn’t, but okay.”

“Let me live,” She pushes at his shoulders, watching as the academy comes into view. A few moments of silence follow soon after, making her realize that she has to come back to reality. This is the life that she has gotten to live, being a lady just for the sake of pleasing other people but not herself. “We’ll have to enter through the backdoor, but I think I can walk back there. Bye, then—”

“I’ll walk you there. What are you even talking about?” Everyone else thinks the option is pushy, that Changkyun is trying to fit himself into her life, but she is enamored by the idea of getting to see him for a bit more. The moment seems paralyzed, stuck in this tension that she can only describe as constricting, although yearned. The walls of the academy look less like a palace and more like jail as she nears it, standing by the back-door when she hears Changkyun speak. “I want to ask for something, but you can say no if you want to.”

“A cup of coffee?”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disbelief at what she has just asked him and maybe, his judgement is clouded—the Changkyun she knows would never give up on some free food. Nonetheless, he grabs her by the crook of her elbows, bringing her closer to him before speaking softly, unlike him at all. “I want a hug.” She nods her head, speechless beyond understanding, hearing the sound of his breathing when their bodies connect. The crickets are singing their tune in the near distance, but she can only think of the way Changkyun’s arms rest on the curve of her waist, his fingers tracing soft patterns on there. Her palms want to reach all of him, to claim him as her own just for one night, but she simply places them on his back, her head resting on his shoulder. The moment is sweetened even more when his fingers reach for her nape, trailing up to her cheeks to connect their gazes. “This…” His voice cracks a little bit, making him chuckle at the sound. “Can you imagine what would happen if I kissed you?”

Her heart picks up, thinking of the possibility of having his lips touch hers even if it’s just for a second. A kiss was never necessary for her, or even remotely wanted, all she knew is that people loved the feel of it, as if grounded by the simple touch of lips. It’s complicated, how her hands are practically tugging at his shirt when he says it, knuckles lightening at the pressure. “I don’t think you’re going to kiss me.” She wants to believe this, that Changkyun is just like any other man she has met. Trapped in between his own glory, egocentric past normality, blind and drunken by his ego. This only leads to heartbreak, to stairs and stairs to climb just to get to someone’s heart. Love is supposed to be easy, and this feels far too much like it.

“You think I’m not going to kiss you?” Changkyun asks, tilting his head to the side. Slowly, very much so, his gaze drags down to her lips. “Or you don’t want me to kiss you?” His tongue peaks out to wet his lips, out of a movie that she would avoid watching just because of fear. Romance is even worse than horror.

“I don’t think you will.” She breathes out, voice becoming a mere memory or a plea. She wants to convince herself Changkyun is just getting free pastries and a good time, not exactly following after his attraction.

“I think I will,” is the last thing she hears before she feels Changkyun’s lips softly pressing down on hers. Firstly, she is far too surprised to even react at the kiss, the simple caress of his skin upon hers making her sigh. Her hands drag up his chest, resting upon where his heart is, seeking sanity in the feeling that engulfs her and somewhere within her mind, she thinks she feels Changkyun grabbing her by her waist, pulling her impossibly close before he lets his hands rest upon her hips. Sweet laughter follows the short meeting, one that she can’t even look at because she doesn’t want to open her eyes. Maybe, he is disappointed. “Kiss me like you mean it, dumbass.” He jokes around, biting down on her bottom lip slowly, so softly she almost doesn’t feel him when he delves down to press another kiss to her lips. This time around, Changkyun is the one that takes the lead, and the dream that she has made upon a star for the moment to last becomes true. The warmth of his body seeps through their fabrics of clothing, his heart starts beating as fast as hers does before becoming relaxed.

Though Changkyun is not a man of patience, his kisses feel like he is taking all the time in the world to undress all she needs, all she wants, all she never knew she looked for. His fingers look for hers, interlocking together on each side of their bodies when he pulls away, resting a few more kisses upon her lips before finishing it off with a chuckle. She doesn’t know if he’s laughing at the situation or if she should open her eyes, but something inside her tells her to do it, and she is met with the most adoring look she has ever been given.

Changkyun’s lips are red thanks to the kiss, somewhat smudged with her lipstick and she realizes then that his breathing is raged. In hopes of taking his breath away, she wraps her arms around his waist and presses another sweet touch to his lips. “Thank you.” She whispers soon after, only to have Changkyun cackling, trying to muffle the sound immediately.

“You’re saying ‘thank you’ for the kiss?”

Shaking her head, she stutters out whatever she can say: “A-Ah, not that…I was actually thanking you for…yeah, the kiss and the night and everything.” The air feels so much more lightweight and maybe, this is what people call romantic tension. Changkyun lets his thumb rub against her bottom lip, biting down on his own at the sight.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” The seriousness in his voice surprises her, even more when he continues. “I kissed you because I think you’re amazing. I…I guess I took your first kiss?”

“You did.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“I know,” He points out before giving her another long kiss, the sound alone making her smile against his touch, leaning closer to the point their chests are pressed together. The man stands on his tip-toes, tilting his head far enough so the kiss is stopped. The position is silly, of course. “No more kisses. Some teacher will come out and they will tell you I’m getting you pregnant out here.”

She chuckles at his words, swatting her hand over his arm before reaching for her keys, looking for the one that opens the back door and pushing it open, welcoming the smell of the academy. “Kyun…”

“Huh?” The man turns around, lifting his eyebrows when she goes towards him to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

“Get home safe, okay?”

Though, when he returns the kiss, she wonders if this romance is fake anymore. He isn’t her fiancé, of course, far too much of a stranger to ever be so, but she finds him incredibly attractive.

⏰

“I am not letting you look at me like this. I feel like I’m dressed as a clown, and I don’t really like clowns, you know? I’m one but—”

“Kyun, stop babbling on about clowns. Let me look at the suit!” She tries to speak to him through the changing rooms, smiling at some worker that looks at her with a stinky expression. In any other occasion, perhaps a month back, she would have cared about it, but now she simply tries to look away to stop stressing out about it. Just four days away from the dinner celebration, she is surprised that Changkyun has still not gotten his suit, for it took a lot more ranting and babbling to get him to finally give in and go shopping with her. However, after getting his measurements taken and trying on the suit, she can’t even see him. “I want to look. I am sure you really look handsome.”

Whiplash is what follows soon after, for she is literally swooped off her feet and kicked by oxygen when Changkyun opens the door of the changing rooms as quickly as possible, dragging her inside and locking the door behind him. The space is short; to the point she can feel Changkyun’s back pressed to her chest once he stands in front of the mirror. The first thought she has deals with what others would think; a lady like her getting into a man’s changing room and…simply staying there, it doesn’t sound possible, but the more she thinks about it, the more absurd it sounds. Instead, she tries to get a glimpse of Changkyun’s clothing, but he is covering up most of the mirror just so she doesn’t look at him.

Her arms wrap around his waist, bringing him closer to her and away from the mirror, looking up from his shoulder to see his reflection. Changkyun would never give himself enough credit for how elegant he looks with a suit on, like a man that is ready to kill with his stare. His black hair is pushed away from his forehead, his face leading to the most gorgeous black suit with a white tie to match, digging nicely on his waist, even more highlighted by the nice fitted pants and the broadness of his shoulders comes naturally without the need of extra fabric—or bras for the shoulders, how he likes to call them—. Surely, it doesn’t look like the Changkyun she is used to, but he looks breathtaking nonetheless.

Maybe her look of appreciation isn’t enough, for the man continues to babble about how he feels uncomfortable. She grabs him by the shoulders, giving a few steps back to feign checking him out. “The ass looks good in this one, and everything else does, too. I don’t know why you’re being so insecure.”

Going past the fact that she has just cussed, Changkyun plays with his fingers before clearing his throat. “It makes me look dumb and like one of those guys that are always at your academy trying to court you.”

She rolls her eyes at his words, per usual. “No. You look even better.” She pushes, wrapping her arms around him once again before resting a soft kiss on the fabric covering his shoulder blades, making sure that her lipstick doesn’t stain it. “I like you with your normal clothes, but you really do look great.”

“Do I?”

“Like a prince.”

“Ugh, I hate that.”

“Okay, then like a villain from a movie that rules a starship and is ready to take over the world.”

“Ooh, that sounds better.” Changkyun coos at the name, turning around and pressing his back to the mirror behind him simply to bring some space in between them. She is more-so stuck to the wall, becoming one with the uncomfortable woodened material, but Changkyun doesn’t seem to mind as he rests his hands on each side of her body, caging her in with a smile on his face. Faint at first, then bigger. “I would have never done this for anyone else, you know? I just have this soft spot for you.”

Most of his words take the air away from her lungs in laughter, but these ones make her heart constrict so badly she thinks she is going to have a heart attack. “I, uh…I…”

“My whole family has these big events at all times and I go there in a button down, but I wear a suit for you. That’s big.” His voice lowers lightly, letting his gaze trail down to her lips before pecking them softly. These past few weeks, they have only shared a few kisses—given when he is in a rush and he doesn’t have the time to think about the situation, or when she is really craving his touch, but most of the time she is lost in the limbo of not knowing where they stand. If this is Changkyun acting…then she doesn’t know what she would do. “I’m doing this for you.”

“I know,” She whispers against his lips, opening her eyes to see his are closed, lost in the trance of whatever is in between them. “So, this suit is the one for you?”

“If you like it…” He shrugs his shoulders, licking his lips before kissing her once again. “I’ll wear it.”

But her mind wants to stop him from kissing her, afraid of having her heart broken by the situation that surrounds them. She doesn’t know what is fake, what is real, if Changkyun is simply trying to prove to himself he is a good actor or he has actually caught these feelings. Maybe, he doesn’t even call them feelings at all, he is simply doing as he pleases, going with the rhythm of the beautiful nights that they board in. With thoughts that eat at her brain, she leaves the changing rooms, sparing a glance at the worker that keeps looking at them.

What would happen after the dinner? Would Changkyun finally come to the conclusion that this is not a ‘forever’? Would he lose all the interest he apparently has?

She doesn’t want to question it, but it lingers on her brain. It makes her feel useless, for she has never worried about romance and there she is, giving an ode to the confusion in her brain.

⏰

The first one to notice is Kihyun, squinting his eyes at the mere sight of the ‘eventful couple’, and that is enough to set her off. The evening for the dinner is set with candle lights, gorgeous piano music in the background, people dressed in their best attires, children laughing, couples sharing drinks and of course, her appearances in the kitchen whilst everyone is having fun. Long ago, she had finished the last plate for the dinner, but she is far too concerned about not putting up a good act to even go out. It is hard to breathe, half of her head is thumping with pain, settling mostly in her eye and Changkyun is simply standing there, one leg over the other whilst he leans back on the counter, plopping some food inside his mouth before he has to put the utensils to use out there.

“Everything will be fine.”

“I don’t think it will.”

One thing is pretending to be together in front of one or two people, mainly because they have never really tried, but another thing is putting on an act of being engaged. The Principal is somewhere around there, waiting for her to fail and she wonders what she really wants. On one hand, she has Woo’s bakery and the opportunity to work there full-time, knowing well that she is going to have a paycheck to pay for her own place. On another hand, there is the fact that she could pull up with this and simply trust Changkyun, that has done no less than excellently while greeting people with all the elegance of the world, even getting brief compliments from older couples and parents. Then, there are the millions of opportunities that she could pick from, like working as a teacher outside of the academy, or simply staying with Changkyun without really having to fake. It all goes through her brain and she is far too scared about everything to even go out.

Even the prettiest of dresses can’t mas her nervousness, and Changkyun stops eating for a moment simply to hold her, take her by the arms and rub at the skin there, pressing down lightly on the tension that she has in said muscles. “You’re even making me anxious. Relax. Everything will turn out alright. People are loving us thus far.”

She tucks a few strands of her hair behind her ears, aware that the cooking must have ruined her hairstyle, but Changkyun looks as relaxed as ever, as if he doesn’t really care about the setting. She wants the moment to end, unlike all the times that she has spent with Changkyun, because this is not him. This is not her. She is not this preppy, perfect lady that has simply decided to get married because that is what she has to do. She doesn’t think she even knows the concept of love anymore; she simply feels what she has to feel. “Are you sure?”

“I mean…I guess.” Changkyun’s lips pucker up as he speaks, muffled by his own thoughts. “What’s bothering you so much?”

“You.”

“Excuse me?”

She sighs, shaking her head before resting it against his shoulder. “Not you. Well, yes you but not in that way.” She tries to excuse herself, resting her chin against his pectorals before biting down on her bottom lip. “I feel so bad for making you go through this and now I wonder why I thought changing you was a good idea.”

Changkyun shakes his head at what she says. “I don’t understand it myself. I mean, I’m awesome as I am,” As always, he jokes around and for the first time in that night, she feels at ease. “But…if your dream is getting that job here, I’m helping you. As your fake boyfriend, as a friend.” The word ‘fake’ makes her heart do something that she doesn’t understand, her stomach becoming a mess of words, food and emptiness. She feels sick, pushing her weight off him and releasing a sigh before she hears the sound of the door opening lightly, closing soon after and then, her name is being called.

What she doesn’t expect to hear is the sound of a plate being thrown to the dishwasher, along with food that immediately gets drowned in the few droplets of water that were there. A gasp leaves her lips, although not audible, looking up to see the source of such an atrocity, for one of her meals is thrown down the drain immediately. The Principal looks at her, stoic and old as always, sharing a glance with the couple before lifting her chin in mightiness.

“What a disgrace,” Her mind can’t make up what the Principal is thinking, or why she has thrown the plate on the dishwasher. If she ever felt better, she doesn’t remember it, there is not a trace of that feeling within her chest anymore. Changkyun becomes her anchor, once again bringing her down to a more peaceful reality. “This food is not gourmet. It’s fried and distasteful. It’s…ordinary. My guests would have been repelled by such a sight, something as terrible as that.”

She tries to find the words in her mouth, instead coming up with a soft excuse. “It’s a new recipe. I found it in a book and I thought it would be tasty—”

“This is unlike you.” The Principal spits out and it has been like this for the past few years. After all, the Principal sees her as that useless individual she has to cook for the more important people; the women who are getting married, the men that are in businesses. Even when ‘engaged’, that is never going to change. “I don’t even know how you’re going to please this young man right here. Not that he probably asks for much, I heard the younger students talking about how he was painting the house in the front not too long ago.” The statement makes the Principal scoff to herself, but she simply gets closer to Changkyun, feeling how his hands wrap around her waist and tighten over the stuff material of her dress. “Is this the type of men you find? Of course, you have never—”

“She has never been like you, that’s why you talk to her like that.” Changkyun finally pulls away from her, his eyebrows frowned entirely as he stands in front of the Principal, shaking his head at the words the woman said.

“Kyun—”

“You’re so envious. She has always been exactly what you asked everyone to be but no one met that expectation for you. You wanted people to be like you, and when someone surpassed you, you went bat-shit crazy.” The way he speaks has the Principal blinking quickly, the color drains from her face quickly, and even she is at a loss of words. She knows Changkyun is like this, but just a few minutes ago he was so set in making this work. Her dollhouse fell a long time ago, but now Changkyun is playing with the crumbs. “She is the perfect teacher, everything you could ask for and more and I’m proud of her.”

“Of course, all you do is paint houses. You’d be proud of this.” The Principal points at the mess in the dishwasher before laughing bitterly. “It’s as ordinary as you.”

“Enough you two. I don’t want to hear this—”

“Your manners are up your ass, I see.” Changkyun points out, taking the time to look the Principal up and down before releasing a shaky sigh. “Get a life and stop trying to ruin other’s. This dollhouse fantasy you have, it’s sick. You’re creating slaves, not actual people.”

The Principal has a grin on her face, crossing her arms over her chest before pointing at the door. “Good, that’s good.” Her body is shaking, unaware of how her life is falling apart right in front of her, everything that she has believed to be her home is now being taken away from her, something within a lie and the truth falling in a humbled mess. She is a mess, too. “I want the two of you out of my dinner.”

“But, Principal—” She tries to argue, standing beside Changkyun to try to speak up.

“You were never even going to be a teacher to start with. Just get on with your man and get out of my house. Tomorrow, I’ll have one of the younger ladies taking your stuff in a suitcase to the bakery, but I don’t want you here for another second.”

It is not Changkyun’s fault, she tries to convince herself as the bruising heat of the night engulfs her. Changkyun is by her side, of course, having taken off his blazer and resting it on top of her shoulders, shaking at every sob that leaves her lips. At some point, when she realizes she doesn’t know what her life is anymore, she drops to her knees and lets herself get everything out.

Because she doesn’t know if there is a reality outside of the academy, too brainwashed with the idea of being a trophy-wife, of being this perfect girl. She has saved enough money to have a place, she has friends by her side that could help her, and yet…she doesn’t know if this is reality. All this time, she thought her life was set to be lived in the academy, and in just a month, a bunch of people had made a home out of her and seen her as livable.

People had seen her as worthy, and Changkyun is one of them.

Surprisingly enough, Changkyun drops to her side, wrapping his arms around her to speak his reality: “I’m not going to say I’m sorry, because I’m not. I know you think this academy is the shit, but it really is not. There is no pattern for a lady to follow, and you know this, you are not a trophy-wife, you are not the amount of meals you cook for your man…you’re what you like, what you do, what you’re good at. I accepted to help you, but…but now I care about you and it sickens me that you want to be part of this.” The words he tells her make her feel at peace, but at the same time, the argument that surfaced with a person that she had cared about in the past aches within her. She looks up at him, watching the anger in Changkyun’s face dissipate to worry. “…You’re not mad, are you?”

She sniffles, covering her face in fear of seeming too weak, but that is exactly what she is not. “I am so confused, Kyun.” She confesses, pressing her face to her knees and letting a loud sob escape her. “I don’t know what is true anymore. I could find a new apartment, find a new job…and I don’t know if it will work for me. I really don’t…I really don’t know if I’m capable of ever meeting someone’s expectations.”

“You should only care about the expectations you set up for yourself.”

“That is easy to say. You have not been trained to be like me.”

“I haven’t,” Changkyun tells her, pushing his weight off the sidewalk to lift her up her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a chaste, soft kiss to her temple. “That is more of a reason for you to get out of that place. Be the real version of yourself, alright? Kick some ass. After all, all those girls are going to feel bland after a while, because that is not a good way of living. Take this as a nice chance to start over.”

In his eyes, everything is so easy. Changkyun sees the world as a wall, ready to be painted over, all mistakes erased with the magic of colors, but she sees past that. She thinks there are more complexities to it, memories that stick to her, the judgement that always follows her. Even so, she knows there are other questions in life…but Changkyun is there, even when the entire ‘fiancé’ ordeal is over, there is something there. A romance that they silently talk about through their gazes.

At her lacks of words, she simply wraps her arms around him, crying even louder onto his shoulder and tugging at him for dear life. He is one of the few people she has. “T-Thank you…”

“I’m going to,” Changkyun clears his throat, letting his hands rest on her back before sighing. “We’re going to book you a hotel for tonight, okay? I would offer my apartment, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. So, uh, fuck, let’s go?”

This isn’t scripted, and she realizes then that the unscripted Im Changkyun is the one that she truly is falling for. Suit or not, he is incredibly important to her, as a friend, as a romantic interest, as the man that keeps her warm that night with the faint promise of everything turning alright at the end.

⏰

The ringing atmosphere of tango immediately buzzes her senses, pushing her boss through the door with quick steps. Woo is normally a man to spend time with his old wife, loving the way she talks him to sleep, or basking in their silence that indicates comfortableness. Some would say their love is more of a routine right now, but she always tells him there is more to it—there is love in silence, strangely enough, in the untold truths about romance. This is why he is so shy while she brings the couple over to the spot Changkyun introduced to her three months prior to that, when she was stuck in an academy that didn’t appreciate her.

Though, it is difficult to get over the little demons that float around her head that tell her that she was unable to meet the expectations of the Principal, but she pushes them away with another roll of the pastries on the counter, continuing with her work as a baker. On the evenings, she tries to do something with Changkyun…help him with his own work, perhaps, or get him to take a walk with Bruno and herself, and at nights, when she really is lonely in her tiny apartment, she takes up on reading and trying out for new jobs, grabbing on to that habit of Changkyun’s of filling her tables with newspapers and encircled job opportunities.

In between every kiss, she tries to put a name to it. She wants it to be called more than a ‘romance’ and sometimes, when either of them tries to push the words out, they realize what position they are in their lives—Changkyun is carrying around four works in his shoulders, and she really is trying to become a teacher, so they push the thought away before it is too loud. She clings to his side and he does to hers, like two different spectrums that simple ended up together in the same story.

“I’m going to look for Changkyun, but you can sit down here and one of the waiters will come soon after.” She knows where the man is, probably by the entrance to the kitchen trying to talk to the chefs, for he really considers them good friends. With a quick movement on her step, a highlight of the rainbow that follows after the storm, she finds excitement prickling at her bones, being the reason why she is there with her closest friends—her boss, his wife and Changkyun, for her girl-friends couldn’t make it.

Indeed, Changkyun is by the open door of the kitchen, talking excitedly about something that keeps his hands moving. The chef doesn’t seem so thrilled, telling him his own theory that is suddenly cut short when her cold palms press to Changkyun’s skin under his shirt. The man jumps on his spot, cussing loudly at her before a big smile appears on his face. The chef secretly thanks her, she knows so, and she thanks him, too, for having Changkyun’s entire attention is something that comes easily to her right now, but it wasn’t as perfect in the past. After all, their story started with brownies and a crazy proposition.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Because I wanted to?”

“Huh, that’s not the only reason.” Changkyun squints his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest before lowering his face to look at her as if inspecting her. “You’re hiding something from me.”

She chuckles at his words, pressing her palm to his chest just to feel his heart. A habit of hers now, because Changkyun doesn’t show he is excited or nervous most of the time, wanting to seem cool and poised, but his heart gives it away. “Before I tell you what I’m hiding, if I’m hiding anything, I need us to say all the cuss words we can remember.”

Changkyun chuckles at her cringe-y words, shaking his head at what she said. Really, she thinks it is stupid, but she is too excited to care. “You just want us to curse?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Okay, you start.”

The giggle that escapes her lips is inevitable, for she is starting to get more used to the language now that she is surrounded by Changkyun. “Fuck.”

“Ooh, we’re starting strong.” The man teases her before biting down his bottom lip. “Shit.”

“Asshole.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“That’s a long one,” She tells him, only to have him chuckling.

“Have heard that before,” He tries to joke around, only to have him taking her by the shoulders to shake her slightly. “But tell me what you wanted to tell me. I’m dying over here—!”

Taking one step forward, she feels all the weight of the world being taken off her shoulders when she speaks her reality to him. “I got a job as a teacher in a small school at the center of the city. I’ve made it.” She confesses, not even realizing what has hit her when Changkyun takes her by the waist, lifting her up in the air to smile at her before pressing a loud kiss to her lips.

“That’s my girl, fuck yes!”

Or maybe, it’s just a countdown to the time they actually discover they have been a couple all along. The truth surfaces in their loving gazes, all memories a picture could never pinpoint.

#i.m scenarios #changkyun scenarios #monsta x scenarios #monsta x changkyun #monsta x #i.m #kpop scenarios #writing #1960's!au #fairytale!au #fake dating!au #monsta x fluff #monsta x angst #monsta x au #i.m fluff #i.m angst #i.m au #so this is my first monsta x piece so.....it's long but i think it's good #i wanted to bring the fairytale concept to life so this is what i did #i know mbb need a lil bit of a lift me up and i hope this helps out with it!!! #thank you so much for reading babs

[thecursedhellblazer]

At the Edge of Nowhere

(( So, guess who went ahead and scratched that crazy itch I got yesterday? Yep, Scotty did. It turned in a small fic instead of a drabble, since apparently I had more to play out than I initially thought, but...here it is. I took the chance to experiment a bit with the writing style too, while I was at it, ‘cause...why not? ))

(( I’m not really sure of where the idea came from, I just really wanted them to have interact, somehow, without inventing something too complicated. And this was the result. Also, it doesn’t mean that I won’t try to shove Five into John’s universe or vice versa at some point, but for now I’m good with this xD ))

(( Sharing just in case anyone is in the mood for some random oddity! ))

(( I even posted in on Ao3 if anyone wants to have a look at it there! ^^” ))

They sit side by side, watching the eternal sunset of Eternity stretching before them, swinging their feet past the edge of the Abyss, unfazed by the danger of its depths. The darkness seems to be threatening to suck them down, condemning them to an endless fall, and yet they pay it no mind, each of them far too interested in sipping and enjoying his drink.

The silence floods past them, over them, through them, carrying the whispers of their lives. However, for this ephemeral moment, they are given the almost unique chance to ignore them. It’s a rare gift, one that deserved to be savoured, like a fine well-aged vintage. Like the ambrosia that the ancient gods, legit and false, so much have lauded.

And so they sit, the Boy and the Fool, side by side, on the edge of the Abyss.

The atmosphere is almost companionable, as much as it can be when shared by two strangers who carry with them too much baggage. A past and a present that are too dark, too painful. There’s as much kinship and understanding between them as there’s mistrust.

They let the quietness linger for a while, listening only to the taste of the alcohol that coats their tongues, knowing that the stasis won’t last. Neither of them is good at keeping his mouth shut when something is making their skin itch.

“Th’ ‘ell ‘s a lad like yeh doin’ in such a place?” The Fool finally asks, turning his eyes away from the magnetic horizon and landing them on his unlikely companion.

The Boy scoffs. Why is it always the same old story with everyone he meets? “I’d watch my fucking tongue if I were you, young man,” he shoots back, with a withering look. “I’m far older than I look. And I’m older than you for sure.”

A half laugh rises with a small cloud of smoke, but it dies in the matter of seconds as the seriousness of those declarations settles in.

“Blimey. Yeh ain’t pullin’ me leg, are yeh? ‘Ow old are yeh s’posed to be den, mate?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Trust me, mate, I’m not. I’m fifty-eight. And I’m stuck in the body of a thirteen-years-old. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“Bloody ‘Ell. Fifty-eight n’ still a lad? Tha’s...insane. I dun envy yeh. Nay.”

The Fool shakes his head, but, despite the lingering astonishment, there is a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Tell us, tho. Woh’s yeh secret? I gots me diabolical trick to slow down agin’ n’ all, but it obviously ain’t workin’ as well as yehs.”

“I got stuck in the future for forty-five years and, when I finally figured out the equation to go back to my time, I missed a typo and...this is the result.”

“Soddin’ math. ‘S one o’ th’ bloody reasons why I ne’er managed to get alchemy rite. T’in’s keep blowin’ up in me face.”

“Sodding math indeed. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clink their glasses together and go back staring at the frozen skyline. Two sets of blue eyes. Different shades of the iris, similar heaviness burdening them.

The Boy steers his drink with his straw, lips pursing pensively. “Speaking of things that suck, what is this place exactly? Am I dreaming? Or did I accidentally take some of my brother’s drugs and this is like the most boring trip in history?”

The Fool scoffs. “Gonna pretend tha’ yeh didn’t jus’ insult me too, together wit’ dis soddin’ place.”

His gaze wanders for a split moment, touching their motionless surroundings. “Ah, I dunno, mate. Could be yeh dream, aye. Could be mine. Or maybe we bot’ stepped inside another real wit’out noticin’ n’ ‘ere we are. Wouldn’t be th’ first time for me. Won’t be th’ last either.”

“I’ve never been in another world. I’ve travelled through time, maybe a bit too much, and I’ve rushed through the fabric of space but this…” The Boy waves his free hand. “This is new. It’s easier to think of it as a dream, so I’d go with that, if you don’t mind. The last thing I need is another headache.”

“Wohe’er works wit’ yeh, mate. I get it. At times, ‘s be’er pretendin’ life ain’t real. ‘S good for yeh mental sanity. Even if yeh got none left.”

The Fool takes yet another drag from his cigarette. Curiously enough, it doesn’t seem to be shortening, even if the ash falls down on his trench coat.

“One t’in’ I can tell yeh ‘bout dis place, tho. It ain’t somewhere e’eryone can visit. Yeh gotta carry some serious shite wit’ yeh to ‘ave stumbled in ‘ere. Do yeh?”

The Boy shrugs. “Maybe? I kept pushing and pushing, even after my father had told me not to and I ended up after the End of the world. I heard the bastard’s voice echoing in my head for the past forty-five years.” He makes his voice thicker for a moment. “I told you so, boy. I told you so. Asshole.”

A long sip from his drink, as if he is trying to wash away that intrusive voice from his ears, before he continues.

“I worked for this organisation that monitors the timeline for a while as a trained assassin. They made me into the perfect killer, a tool for their plans. I had my goals, though, since the start. I took their deal just so that I could go back to try to stop the Apocalypse and save my family. We ended up breakin the world anyway, so I dragged them all back in time to try again. Of course, all that shit followed us. Because it’s never that easy, is it?”

The Fool nods and the Boy can tell that his companion knows that sort of feeling far too well. It’s nice to be fully understood, for once. Even if the understanding comes from a nameless stranger he’ll probably never see again. Assuming that their meeting is truly happening in the first place.

“So...We saved the world this time but broke the timeline. And now my childhood home is gone and me and my siblings are stuck in a timeline that holds no place for us anymore. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. Oh, and that bastard of my adoptive father is hunting us down using the kids he adopted in our place. It’s a real mess.”

There’s bitterness colouring his voice, the embers of a fight that’s too stubborn to die just yet, but the exhaustion is stronger.

“Though, between you and me...All I really want is a decent nap and a dozen more drinks. Maybe get a dog too. Not necessarily in that order.”

The straw produces a light slurping sound as he takes the next sip. “What’s your story? You must have one too, since you’re here...wherever here is.”

The Fool tips his head, in a sign of acknowledgement. No comments follow the tale, and there’s no real need for them there, out of time and space.

“Grew up in me own particular version o’ ‘Ell. Me oul man was th’ fuckin’ opposite o’ ‘father o’ th’ year’...So, I ran in my teen years, still thinkin’ I coulda owned th’ world. Stuck me nose in e’ery bloody t’in’ tha’ was magic n’ occult. One nite I got too cocky and damned an innocent girl to Hell. Earned a bloody place wit’ me name down there too in the process.”

The voice that spells out the words is casual, but there’s something haunted in his expression, darkening his eyes.

“Spent all me life tryin' to make up for tha’ bloody mistake. Ended up messin up meself and most o’ me mates n’ th’ people who ‘ad th’ ‘orrible o’ puttin’ their faith in me as a result. Girl’s still in ‘Ell, th’ bloody Devil ‘imself gots an eternal grudge against me, I gots demon blood in me veins n’ me soz arse ‘s still damned. I might not be a professional like yeh, but I bet I gots jus’ as much blood on me ‘ands. N’ even more souls on me conscience.”

The ice clinks against the transparent walls as the glass is lifted. More sourness to wipe away the one that the words have left on his tongue.

“Nowadays, ‘s mostly me, meself n’ I. Me best mate, too, from time to time. No clue o’ ‘ow he survived bein’ by me side for so long. ‘M still tryin’ to make t’in’s rite, but...for th’ most I jus’ try to be there to do th’ bloody dirty job no self-appointed ‘ero gots th’ time to do. I might be lost, past th’ point o’ no return, but there are lots o’ people out there who aren’t yet. Th’ fuckin’ least I can do ‘s tryin’ to ‘elp ‘em, aye? Make dis soz existence o’ mine wort’ more than misery n’ destruction.”

A drag from his cigarette and there’s a small hand landing on his shoulder, in a brief pat, before he has finished sucking the smoke in. The light pressure says more than a thousand words could.

“Between you and me, tho...I could use a dozen drinks too. Maybe more. N’ a bloody vacation. To sod off somewhere, even for jus’ a day. Maybe take me best mate n’ dis other lad I know. Oh, he could use a break too, th’ poor sod.”

The Boy makes a sound of agreement and he is back stirring his drink. “What a pair we make, you and I. And I don’t even know you.”

“I ‘ear tha’ loud n’ clear, mate. Bloody loud n’ bloody clear. Woh’s tha’ yeh drinkin’ anyway?”

“What? You ne’er seen a margarita? Where the hell are you from? England or Mars? Come on, try it.”

“Oi, I know woh a fuckin’ margarita is, oul man. Yehs jus’ a bit...flashier than woh ‘m used to.”

“Special recipe. I perfected it myself.”

“Now, tha’s more like it. I like a bloke who can make ‘is own drinks. There. Yeh like g n’ t?”

The glasses pass from one hand to another and then they both turn to look back at the unchanged horizon, holding each other’s drink.

A moment to sniff the liquors, in unison, and then the Boy dips his lips in the clear spirit while the Fool wraps his mouth around the straw. The tastes mix in the silence and it’s a symphony of citrus and sourness, with just the right amount of sweetness coming at the end.

“So, what happens now?” The Boy asks, after a moment.

The Fool shrugs. “Ah, I guess we wait till all dis fades. Or till we do. ‘S always ‘ard to tell when it comes to dis sort o’ shite.”

A huffs, with the faintest hint of irritation. “For someone who’s supposed to know a lot about this stuff, you give the worst cryptic answers. I can’t tell if you’re that ignorant or if you’re just fucking with me.”

A nudge in a smaller, slender side and a sharp smirk. “Who knows, mate. Yeh guess ‘s as good as mine. Keep th’ drink. I gots more back where I come from. Consider it a safe trip back home present. I’ll keep yehs as a reminder.”

“A present from a guy I never truly met? And a reminder of something we didn’t even speak about?”

“Nay. Jus’ th’ memory o’ some peace n’ quiet in decent company.”

“Fair enough. I can drink to that.”

#hellblazer #the umbrella academy #john constantine #five hargreeves #number five #tua #crossover #(( scotty writes ))

[7-wonders]

Twilight, Eat Your Heart Out

Summary: Pondering your own mortality is never a good long-term solution, especially when you have to compare it to the immortal vampire you’ve found yourself entangled in a relationship with.

Word Count: 4209

A/N: Vampire Michael is back! I hope you enjoy this; feedback is always appreciated and, if you feel so inclined, I would love if you liked, reblogged, or commented.

Jealousy, in any sense of the word, is not an emotion that you’re very familiar with. Of course, there were occasions throughout school where you felt wrongfully snubbed of an award or a grade, certain that you deserved a higher score. Never before have you been in a relationship where just the mere sight of your lover with another person fills you with self-doubt and envy. You’re better than that; your happiness and sense of fulfillment, you’ve always believed, does not rely on another person. At least, that seemed to be the case before you got yourself entangled with a suave, mysterious Antichrist who just so happens to also be a vampire.

Entering into a relationship (you wouldn’t dare to call him your boyfriend, or even use the word ‘dating’ to describe the odd situation that you’ve found yourself in) with arguably the most dangerous creature in the world was not something you had penciled into your five year plan. Lately, it seems like nothing is going according to the plan that you had meticulously crafted upon graduating college and landing your job at Kineros. You weren’t expecting to have your first bona fide lover, nor did you believe that you would suddenly learn about the warring forces that are essentially playing a game of chess and using humans as the pawns. You also never thought that you would be an accessory to murder.

Multiple murders, at that.

Blood bags don’t satiate Michael, who always complains that blood is so much better when it comes directly from the ‘source.’ In an attempt to quell Michael’s more...sadistic tendencies, you’ve offered to allow him to drink from you whenever he needs to. Shockingly enough, it turns out that even the cruelest of vampires, the one who is arguably the ruler of all others of his species, has a heart when it comes to certain humans. He had explained to you how taking blood from you multiple times a week, no matter how small the amount, would eventually kill you. So here you are, standing in some alleyway acting as the bait for Michael’s next meal.

This routine hasn’t seemed to get any easier since the first time Michael asked you on a hunt with him. Lure in an unsuspecting victim who has less-than-innocent intentions with you, guide them back far enough to where any wayward screams won’t be heard, and let Michael handle the rest. A fairly simple ploy, but one that never failed to have your stomach curdling with some sort of negative emotion. Before tonight, you had never been able to pinpoint what this foreign feeling was. 

It’s while you’re watching Michael pin tonight’s prey, a pretty brunette that had been planning on robbing you, against a wall that you start to realize what this might be. The low lighting that the street lamps cast into the alley glints off of his talon ring, which he uses to quickly and precisely slit open the woman’s throat. His hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back and allowing him to drink deeply from the flowing wound. She moans weakly, pathetically, and you become aware of something else that’s nestled right beside the disgust that forces you to avert your eyes from the gory scene.

You’re jealous. Not only are you jealous, but you’re jealous of the woman that Michael’s currently draining dry. You understand why everything about this situation looks so intimate; Michael’s nature, of course, is seduction. His ethereal beauty and dangerous charm are integral in beguiling his victims, and he’s going to use these weapons to his advantage. Still, the intimacy of this situation has you nearly doubling over in disgust.

Michael, finally satisfied with his meal, carelessly discards the barely-breathing woman on the ground like she’s little more than an empty wrapper. He grins up at you, blood-stained teeth glinting in the light of the moon. Gracefully stepping over the body, he approaches you slowly and fluidly. It’s almost as if he’s a predator stalking his prey, although that isn’t too much of a stretch; you are, after all, human. There’s hardly any mess on his face, always the clean eater.

“You certainly do have a way of picking the most delicious meals for me, pet.” Michael darts his tongue out, licking a few stray drops of blood from his lips before capturing your lips in a kiss. The copper taste of his kisses, while familiar by now, are still something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. “Shall we be on our way? The night is, after all, still young.”

“Don’t you need to clean up this mess first?” Michael smirks, waving one of his bejeweled hands in the air nonchalantly.

“A simple phone call is all it takes, nothing to worry about.” He slings his arm around you, silver talon coming dangerously close to puncturing your shirt and your shoulder. 

As you leave with Michael, you can’t help but cast your glance to the glassy eyes of the corpse that lay sprawled on the ground. Although there’s no sign of life left in her body, you swear you can feel her stare follow you when you round the corner.

This trend continues for the next two weeks, with every feed that you help bring to Michael invoking that same fiery jealousy in the pit of your stomach. These people, you know, are nothing more than food to Michael. But the way that he looks at them right before he strikes, convincing them that they’re safe and to give themselves over to him, makes you realize that you’re not special. That tender look, which you thought was special only to you, is just another play in Michael’s book. Slowly, you start to become aware of the fact that maybe it’s not just jealousy that you feel whenever Michael must partake in a feed.

You’re scared, as well.

Every human that he kills, every possible victim that walks past you when you’re scouting for Michael, reminds you that there is a very thin line separating them from you. You could just as easily be Michael’s next kill, the vampire draining you and leaving your body on the wet pavement with little more than a glance that one might give a dead deer on the side of the road. Michael claims to be fond of you, says that he couldn’t imagine killing you, but you know just how volatile Michael’s kind are. One day he could be your lover, and the next day he could be your killer. It’s a fact that remains in the back of your mind, always making sure you’re alert for any changes in his emotions towards you. 

When you meet one of Michael’s oldest friends (both in age and amount of time that they’ve known each other), that fear morphs into dread. The Countess, as she’s known as, owns the Hotel Cortez and uses its’ guests as her food source, which Michael considers to be a genius move. She’s radiant, mysterious, and absolutely gorgeous; you start to wonder if every vampire becomes ethereally beautiful when they’re turned, or if attractiveness is a prerequisite to vampirism. She had appeared suddenly, visiting with Michael in his plush office when you arrived for a “late night of work.” You were stunned by this goddess sitting opposite your lover, the two clutching crystal glasses of blood. 

“Elizabeth, allow me to introduce you to (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Michael said warmly, standing with his visitor on his arm. “(Y/N), this is the Countess, my closest confidante for the past hundred years or so.”

She held her hand out for you to take, a talon ring all-too-similar to Michael’s digging into the skin of your wrist when she pulled you towards her. “What a stunning creature you are, my dear.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” you said in a voice an octave higher than your usual, causing Michael and the Countess to have laughed.

“My, my, Michael, it has been quite some time since you’ve found yourself enamoured with a human in this way. Why, the last had to have been Oscar, back in the late eighteen hundreds?” The Countess smiled wistfully. “It always did amuse me, how he would rather come up with the fanatical idea that you had a portrait stashed away somewhere that grew old in your place instead of believing what he had seen to be true.”

You had been jarred out of your semi-stunned state upon the familiarity of this man’s idea. “Wait, are you telling me that Michael once had a relationship with Oscar Wilde?” The two smiled conspiratorially, choosing to remain coyly silent instead of telling you if your suspicion is true.

“My dear Countess, we have not had the chance to reconnect since the turn of the century. For all you know, I could have had a harem of human lovers in that time,” Michael cooed.

“I know you too well for that to be more than a fantasy. Say, has it really been that long since we’ve last seen one another?” The Countess spoke, leaving you mildly upset that the two were basically talking directly above your head.

“Unfortunately.”

The platinum vampire sighed. “Nothing like the rich blood of those who indulged themselves due to their belief that they would die when the calendar changed to the year two thousand. Of course,” she smiled patronizingly at you, “you were hardly more than a babe then, weren’t you?”

You tightly returned her smile as Michael chuckled at his friend’s joke, the two continuing with their reminiscing. Eventually that night, you had left early, feigning exhaustion from a long week in order to get out of the awkward situation. Awkward for you, at least. For the two immortal beings, you’re sure you were little more than a pest, a persistent fly that finally managed to find an exit through a window.

It’s not as if you’re angry that they made fun of your youth. You can’t place the blame on two creatures who have lived hundreds of years combined for picking on how you’ve only existed for a mere blip on their timelines. Instead, the two inadvertently opened your eyes to what lay underneath all of the jealousy. A lingering sadness wraps itself around you, reminding you it’s there from the moment you wake up, and whispering in your ear to lull you to sleep. You’re sure that Michael’s noticed the change in your mood by now, being so attuned to your thoughts and feelings even without the fledgling link that had been created through him consistently feeding from you. 

As a person who relies on logic and research, you love facts. With this situation, however, the facts of the matter are not too appealing to analyze. For starters, you like Michael Langdon, a lot more than you’re supposed to. What had started as a simple ‘enemies with benefits’ situation has evolved into something that you never saw coming: your life is now a bad vampire fanfiction. What kind of human falls in love a relationship with a vampire who feeds from them in exchange for immunity and confidential information? You can only pray to whatever’s out there that this affection you’ve developed isn’t sensed by Michael, lest he decide to prey on you even more than he already does.

Even if you didn’t care for Michael like you do, it’s impossible to deny just how introspective you’ve become since meeting the Countess. Maybe it’s because you had been so swept up in the enigma that is Michael, but after he pierced your neck with his fangs while having you pinned against your desk, you sort of forgot about the fact that Michael’s going to remain the same as he’s always been. More specifically, you forgot that you won’t remain the same. It was easy to imagine him as your equal, with you holding the leverage of your tantalizing blood over his head and using that to your advantage. You became an odd team, helping Michael to successfully hunt and kill people whose deaths wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. 

When the Countess reminded you of that fact, of how you came into the picture in what’s essentially the opposite of dog years (does every vampire year equal 70 human years?), it forced that issue of immortality versus mortality to center stage. No matter how your attempt to change the phrase, the words mean the same thing: you are going to grow older and die, while Michael will be the same as he’s always been and continue to go on without you. It’s not as if this is new information for you, considering one of the first things Michael told you was how he’s been on the Earth for over 400 years. It is, however, something you’ve deliberately avoided thinking about while trying to navigate the schematics of suddenly taking up company with a vampire.

Michael could, of course, give you immortality to allow you to live for eternity with him, but who’s to say that he’ll even still continue to tolerate you beyond next month? Immortality is a gift to Michael and his kind, and it’s not a gift to be given out frivolously. All humans are, all you are, at the end of the day, to Michael, is a meal. Nothing more. He could easily decide that he’s bored of you, his new human toy, and drain you of every drop of your blood until you’re just as lifeless as the corpses you’ve watched him devour lately. Humans are expendable, a renewable resource that Michael is determined to cultivate when he brings about the apocalypse in order to fulfill his father’s wishes. 

Even if Michael weren’t to get bored of you, it seems like he just brings in a new human to capture his attention until they, too, die. It’s a constantly revolving door of human lovers, you realize, ones who do nothing but serve as distractions for the vampiric Antichrist until the time comes for his ‘mission.’ What makes you better than Oscar Wilde? The man based one of his greatest works on Michael and penned many an eloquent letter for his blond-haired lover, only for said lover to allow him to be exiled and dead from meningitis. If he didn’t want to take the most well-versed and passionate of his lovers to be his eternal companion, what would make him want to take you? You are, after all, a mere researcher at a robotics company whose greatest accomplishment will likely be nothing more than improving sex robots (at least that’s what you tell yourself). 

It’s a train of thought that makes you especially melancholic. Why even bother to continue associating with Michael if he’s just going to toss you out like trash when you’re one day old and withered? It’s never good on one’s psyche to ponder mortality for an extended amount of time, but it’s all you can think about whenever you see Michael. So, like any person who’s not good at confronting their emotions would do, you ignore the source of all of this inner turmoil. While that’s easier said than done, all you really have to do is get work done during the day and lock yourself in your house at night. Easy, right?

You’ve managed to exponentially increase your productivity at work during the daytime, eliminating your need to work into the evening hours in an effort to finish your projects. The hardest part is the evening, when you can hear Michael crooning through your apartment door in that honey-laced voice to just let him in, pulling out every pet name in the book in an attempt to persuade you. You almost gave in a couple of nights ago, hand on the doorknob before you stumbled back and hid under the covers in your bedroom. After that night, though, he finally seemed to get the hint and left you alone. You’re lonely, lonelier than you’ve been since you first met Michael, but it’s for the best.

Tonight, it seems as if your week of avoiding interaction with a certain mysterious blond is finally catching up with you. You get home late, the moon already hanging high in the sky by the time you finish getting drinks with a couple of friends. Unlocking your front door, you can immediately tell that something’s off. The window, which was closed before you left, is now open, the curtains billowing inwards. Your heart beats wildly for a few moments, until you catch Michael’s distinctive scent: expensive cologne and something woodsy, both masking the metallic smell of blood that always follows him. 

“I know you’re here, Dracula, you big fucking nerd,” you grumble, shutting the door behind you and tossing your keys on the counter.

“Why do you continue to insist on calling me that horrendous nickname?” You can’t see where he’s at, but you can hear his voice coming from somewhere in the kitchen. 

“Sorry, Mephistopholes, it won’t happen again.” You only jump slightly when, in a split second, Michael’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s not a question; he knows it just as well as you do.

“And what if I am?”

“Well, I certainly don’t enjoy it. I also don’t like thinking I’ve upset you in some way.” Michael grabs you by your shoulders, spinning you around and backing you against the kitchen counter so he can look at you. “So? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’ve just been tired, haven’t really wanted to see anyone lately,” you shrug, staring at the shine on Michael’s shoes. Your eyes widen when his large hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up towards him.

“You know, I don’t tolerate liars, (Y/N). I could very well just read your thoughts to figure out what’s troubling you, but I won’t because you’ve told me how uncomfortable that makes you. So, you can either tell me know, or we can stand here like this until you decide you’re ready to talk like an adult instead of giving me your childish silent treatment,” Michael snaps. 

“What if it’s because of your attitude, hm?”

“It’s not,” Michael says with his eyes narrowed, daring you to try and come up with another excuse. “I’m giving you one more chance before my patience runs out, (Y/N).”

“You’re infuriating,” you scoff, pushing him off of you (surprisingly, he lets you) and stalking off towards your bedroom.

“Is it something to do with work? Did one of the victims that you caught for me actually touch you? Did the Countess scare you?” He knows he’s got you when your back stiffens at his last guess, breathing hitching before you walk faster. Unfortunately, due to his speed, Michael’s already sitting perched on your bed by the time you cross into the room. “So the Countess scared you?”

“Shut up about it, please.”

“I’m not going to. I care about you, and I don’t want to see you upset in any way.”

“You care about me?” Michael nods, not sensing the sarcasm in your voice. “Just like you cared about all of your other lovers, who you then cast out and let die when they grew boring to you?”

When you turn around to glare at him, Michael’s already staring at you with those wide blue eyes. Instead of getting angry, or firing back, things you expect him to do, he just reaches out a hand and grabs your own. He remains silent, probably to let you calm down while you continue to throw daggers at him with your eyes, and you allow him to pull you onto his lap. 

“Hearing about my previous human lovers frightened you?”

“Not in the sense of, ‘oh, I’m jealous that he’s been with others before me.’ It frightens me how insignificant a role in your eternal life I’ll play,” you confess.

“Why do you believe that?” Michael’s not asking this question to be condescending, you know, but to truly understand the thought process behind your feelings.

“I’m a mere blip on your timeline; I barely take up any space, considering how long you’ve lived and how long you will live. I’m like a fucking baby compared to you, and I truly don’t know anything about the world in the way that you do. Why am I to believe that I’m anything different compared to all of the other human partners you’ve taken? You haven’t turned any of them, and there’s no way that you’ll turn me. Even if you don’t grow tired of me within the next few months, I will grow old and die; it’s inevitable. I’ll die, and you’ll continue on with living.”

“But in the meantime--” you cut Michael off, too fired up to let him speak.

“In the meantime, I’m a meal. That’s all humans are to you and your kind. You can sugarcoat it all you want, say that I’m your ‘lover’ and that you ‘cherish’ me, but at the end of the day, I’m nothing more than a to-go meal for you. Your entire mission is to let Hell rule on Earth, and enslave the best, most tasty humans as your blood bags. Who’s to say that I won’t wake up to you draining me one day? I help you get your meals, but the only thing separating them from me is that I managed to make you laugh long enough to escape death.”

Michael knows that you have some valid points and a right to be upset by them. Tears brim your eyes, but you refuse to allow him to see you cry or show any more vulnerability than you’ve already been forced to. He kisses the back of your hand over and over again, calming you down before he speaks.

“Do you know why I have never turned any of my previous human partners?” You shake your head, shrugging. “It’s because, although I have loved each and every one of them very much, I knew that they were not compatible with eternity. None of them would be able to handle the burden that an immortal life comes with. Sometimes, they also choose to turn down my offer. I have only offered the gift to three people in my lifetime, and all three of them said no.”

“So the Countess…?”

“Is not one of my creations, no. In fact, I have yet to make a creation.”

“Why have they said no, then?”

“There was a man,” Michael says slowly, fondly, “who I was very much enamored with. It was over a hundred years ago, but I can still remember everything about him like it was yesterday. He’s the last mortal I’ve ever offered to turn, and he refused. Said that he didn’t want to live long enough to see what became of his works. He told me that his mortal life was painful enough, and that he rather wouldn’t extend it for an indeterminate amount of time. I was...heartbroken. I vowed that I would never allow myself to get close to a human again, and that I would never offer anyone the gift for as long as I lived.”

“Michael, I’m so sorry.” You reach for his face, gently tracing your fingers along his jawline.

“No need to be sorry, I’ve long since moved on.” He kisses your cheeks, letting his forehead fall against yours. “I didn’t tell you this to get pity from you. I told you this so that you would understand that I don’t treat all humans as my prey. I have a...talent, if you will, a sort of night vision for the soul. I can see exactly who each person truly is, no matter how they try to hide it.”

“So I passed that test, then?”

Michael chuckles, “you did, and so has every human I’ve ever been fond of. I can’t promise you much: eternity, that I’ll be the lover you need me to be, or even regular dates. But I can promise you that, no matter what happens, you will always hold a special place in my heart.”

“Right next to Oscar Wilde?” you prod with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Hypothetically, if I had been in a relationship with Oscar Wilde, then yes.” He’s deliberately careful with how he chooses his words, enjoying stringing you out on this mystery.

“Thank you,” you kiss him softly. “I’m sorry for being annoying lately.”

“You weren’t annoying, not in the slightest.” Michael shifts you on his lap, so you’re now straddling him. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am.”

“Good, I can’t stand to see you upset.” His fangs are peeking over the top of his full bottom lip, and you grin before lightly touching the point.

“Are you hungry? It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve fed from me, we should be good.” You start to sweep your hair away from your neck, but Michael stops you.

“I am hungry, but it’s a...different type of hunger,” he alludes, making your face heat up as he rapidly changes positions so you’re lying on your back. “Let me show you just how special you are to me, darling.”

//////////////////////

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[motleycrueroadie]

Along for the Ride

Figured that I would try my hand at writing. This is just more of an introduction to the scene rather than the character herself, but that will be coming soon enough. Based on The Dirt (2019). 

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They call New York the city that never sleeps, and as a stranger to the East Coast, I was inclined to deny the cliche when I first moved to the Sunset Strip. Initially it seemed like the Strip never slept, with the blaring neon lights of the bars and clubs. This combined with the music scene draws in the young crowds of those who entertain and those who are entertained. The Strip creates an allure to pull out those chasing dreams, but this allure soon vanishes come Monday to reveal only shadows. New York City remains the city that never sleeps, the Sunset Strip doesn’t sleep on the weekends. Given this, it only makes sense that just about everyone living here is chasing the high of the weekend, and then dragging themselves through the week. I love the weekend nightlife more than anything else, it separates the people I have to endure from the people who I want to be around. 

From the moment the clubs open on Friday until last call on Sunday night, which I guess is really early Monday, London gives me a chance to feel alive. As a band, London attracts the best of the Strip and I love every second of it. The high from being on stage is enough to envy every junkie out there. Jack nor coke can give me the same feeling that a dimly lit room, stuffed to the brim with bodies emitting pure heat and rock and roll could. I left Seattle, my mother Deanna and the revolving door of asshole boyfriends in search of this exact feeling. This is where I finally feel at home. However, there was one thing that ruined this high every time, London. Ironic, right?

London and the music worked fucking wonders, but the people in London are dog shit. The tension between myself and the rest of the band mates rivals that of an elastic band strung to the max. We are a ticking time bomb. Our almost daily band practice had finished today around 11:30, that was added on top of an 8 hour day at the Starwood and I felt exhausted. The walk home served as a moment of relaxation. Even though it was Thursday night, there were still people frequenting the bars; But the people were weekday regulars that live to drink, rather than those who drink to add to the experience of being alive. Though it seemed that there was not much life to the Strip, the diner up ahead, “Tiffany’s 24/7 Dine-In”, seemed as lively as it could get. I could hear it before I could see it. From the outside, the sound was somewhat muffled by the layer of glass, but I could make out Slow Ride by Foghat playing. Wasn’t entirely my style of music but it was close enough. As I begin to pass by the window, I glance in to see why it was so loud. 

The only person that occupied the entire dining room was a girl, suited in a dress I could only assume was a uniform, buffing the floors. It was not my intention to stop and stare, and I honestly could not decipher what was so intriguing about her, but I am completely stopped in my tracks to take her in. She was shorter than myself, but was not swallowed by the fabric she wore, filling it out in what I might call “all the right places”. The most encapsulating part about her was the lightness with which she moved while controlling a machine that could jolt even the most steady people. She swayed the machine lightly back and forth across the floors, while nodding her head along to the beat. I can slightly make out her voice singing along to the words with ease. Suddenly, she looked up at me out the window and it startled me, I felt caught. Her face turned upwards into a smirk and she jutted out her chin while nodding at me, giving a sign of acknowledgement. For whatever reason, I took this as an invitation to come into the diner. The music struck me with a certain intensity as she yelled, “Sorry about that! Have a seat wherever you like and I’ll turn that down and be with you in just a second!” 

 Her voice was steady and held a certain feather light feeling, the same as her movements did, and I just wanted to hear it again. I stepped over the cord attached to the buffer and slid into the booth facing the bar, watching her stretch to reach the volume dial on the radio atop a sliding door refrigerator.

She glided around the bar, swiping a menu from a shelf hidden from my vision and smiled up at me, “Welcome to Tiff’s, can I get you something to drink while you have a look at the menu?”

“Would a Jack and Coke be acceptable to serve on a Thursday night?” I asked, not because I needed her opinion on my drinking habit, but because I wanted to keep hearing her voice.

“Are you asking me whether I find the consumption of alcohol on a weekday moral, or if this establishment serves on a Thursday?” she replied, hand on her hip while leaning against the coat rack extending from the booth. 

“Humour me with both.” I smirked, relaxing back into the seat having finally found my rhythm with her. The next answer she gave would gauge whether or not I continue to push her buttons. 

“Tiff’s, like most other diners, will serve you morning, noon and night any day of the week” she started, “and as for myself, I think booze is far too much fun to contain to the weekend. Only pussies and prudes save drinking for two days of the week” She seemed to mean this despite the humour in her voice, and I was thoroughly pleased with her answer. 

“Mija! Watch your language with the customers!” spoke a voice from behind the server’s window. She chuckled a little, before turning to the window and calling out “Carlos, I always gauge my audience!” A shorter tan man popped his head up from behind the window before disappearing again, “I see what you mean. Carry on!” She turned back to me with a smile on her face, “Don’t take offence to that. You’re just not married with kids or above the age of 60, so I’ve lost my filter. Is that a problem?” 

“Not at all” I said while shaking my head, and she took that as her cue to start grabbing my drink. Returning, with it in her hand she slid into the booth opposite me and asked, “Anything on the menu caught your eye?” I shook my head again and began to hand her the menu, “Just the drink will be fine for tonight.” She gave an appreciative nod, before leaving to grab the cord for the buffer cord out of the wall. 

“Can I put you down for an order of solitude to go with your JC or are you interested in conversation?” She called out from the other side of the diner, but before I had the chance to answer she continued “Cause I can ramble for at least 10 JCs!” Taking a sip, I leaned further into the booth to give her the impression I needed to appreciate the options when I knew exactly what I wanted to say. She continued to wrap up the cord around the buffer, leaving it in its spot and glancing up at me in anticipation of my answer. 

“Conversation. But if you become too annoying I’ll put a 5 on the table and take off”  continuing to push her buttons, seeing if she could take it and dish it out. 

“Fair enough,” and with that she slid back into the booth. 

“Start with your name” she told me rather than asked. 

“Why can’t I have yours?” I asked, realising I had not even bothered to glance at her name tag. It read Janis Jade. She caught me reading, “Cause you just read it off my chest but I don’t have that luxury.” Shrugging my shoulders, I said “Nikki Sixx,” I hadn’t seen the smile leave her face since we caught eyes in the window, but it grew wider and I thought she might have recognized me so I prepared for a slew of questions and rambling to follow. 

“That’s the sickest fucking name I’ve ever heard, and I know for a god damn fact you picked it out yourself” she glowed as she spoke with an infectious amount of genuine enthusiasm. I nodded, chuckling as I did so. 

“Let me guess, you’re named after the infamous Janis Joplin” I smirked as I took a drink. She screwed her eyebrows together, almost offended. 

“How old do you think I am Sixx?” she asked, again I shrugged shoulders. “I had my name prior to Miss Joplin’s rise to fame, but my parent’s wore shit eating grins everyday about my name after she started getting big.” I nodded along to her story, somehow knowing I was in for a good conversation. 

For the next two hours, we swapped tales and although she did most of the talking, I was glad to sit back and listen. She wasn’t wrong when she said she could talk for at least 10 JCs. Janis was full of life and everything I absolutely wasn’t and I couldn’t help but want to know more. I realized that I needed to be heading out, so I began rummaging in my jacket for my wallet. She saw this, and I stopped for a second as I remembered my earlier comment, “Trust me doll, you’re not annoying me but I should be heading out.” She nodded understandingly, “No worries Sixx, you want me to grab your change?” I shook my head at her, and started getting out of the booth. “Your shift done soon? I can walk you home.”

She smiled, “I’m here until 7am but thank you for the offer.” As I began to walk out, I paused while pushing on the door handle, “I hope to see you around Joplin.” She smiled from where she stood, “Don’t worry Sixx, you will” and gave me a two fingered salute before returning to where the buffing machine had sat for the last two hours. I returned home with a new found appreciation for the little diner on the Strip. 

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Thank you for reading! If you’re interest, here’s the Next Chapter 

#the dirt fanfiction #douglas booth!nikki sixx #motley crue

[useraew]

dreaming soulmates

Colson Baker x Female Reader 

au the one where you can talk to your soulmate in dreams.

For as long as I can remember my mother always told me stories of her relationship with my dad. She and him had lots of dreams together and my mom never thought in a million years she’d meet someone outside of dreams like my dad. It felt like my mom had the perfect relationship in the world, which made me envy of my parents.

The one thing i loved about sleeping was being able to be some where else in my mind. I always got tired through the days and it felt nice to sleep away my pain and stress from the world. Strolling up my steps to my room, my eyes grew more exhausted by the minute. The moment I opened and shut my door closed I let out my last sigh for the night. As I flickered off the light switch, the room became darkness.  

Outside of my window I could hear the sirens from police and car noises from highways that weren’t that far from me. Moving myself in bed i tried to block out the loud chaos from the highway as i rested my eyes.  My sleepy state made me become more and more not responsive as i started to fall in my dream state. I could feel the room’s light make me blink my eyes from the how bright the light was. 

After another realization I was in a apartment hallway, leaning up against the wall. The light in the hall flickered as i blinked. My eyes couldn’t stop fidgeting along with the lights, a new voice appeared distracting me finally. 

“Hey you okay?” A worried voice got me out of my trance. In front of me was the most fascinating guy i’d ever seen. His tall frame and his piercing blue eyes filled up quick. Giving him a grin, i placed some hair behind my ears. 

“Yeah, I’m good It’s just these lights were bugging me” He nodded in my direction as he put his hand in his pocket. 

“Someone really should fix them” He mumbled as he pulled out his keys. Before trying to open his door he looked back at me making me bite my lip. 

“Do you happen to live here, because i haven’t seen you around?” His question made me think for a second as i found myself more intrigued by him. 

“No, I’m visiting my friend” Answering his question he mouthed a “oh” back to me as he went for his door and went inside. 

The sound of my friend’s door next to me slowly opens as Hayley popped her head out. “Oh hey Y/n, sorry for being slow, lets go” Walking out of the hall i looked back at the stranger’s door as we left her apartment. 

Waking up I noticed the clock next to me was 5:36 making me look back at the ceiling. Placing my hand cover over my heart i could feel my heart beat. Letting out a sigh i noticed myself getting overwhelmed with the thoughts of my dream.  

Falling into another sleepy place in my mind, i could see myself at surrounded by loads of people. To my left was Hayley and to my right were strangers. This room was loud as the music and the sound of chanting. My eyes followed to the stage and the same blue eyes i saw in the hallway were above me. Once the song changed to Waste Love, I found myself singing along.

Getting lost in the song I felt as if I was the only one in the room in till I looked back up at the stage and the tall guy was singing had gave me eye contact. I sang along as he sang to the crowd. Right before he finished I gave in a smile while biting my lip at him. Watching as he left the stage I put it upon myself to leave and go find the stranger. 

Getting through the crowd, I easily saw the person I was looking for through monster group that was surrounding him. I could see him joking around with one other person as he walked up to a bar that was besides the stage. Approaching the seat across from him, he noticed my presence and stared for a moment. 

Before I could get a word in, he took me off guard by unexpectedly asking me a question. 

“You’re my soulmate aren’t you?” He said as he took a sip of his drink. 

Shrugging my shoulders I watched a drink appear in front of me. Taking in my hands, I looked back at him unsure what to say. 

“I might be” finding the courage to really answer him. 

Taking a sip of my drink I watched him as he took a hit from his joint. The smoke that followed out of his mouth made me blink as i saw it changed color.  His smoke faded as he eyes glued to mine. 

“If you are my soulmate, that means I’ll find you and we’ll both know this is real and not a dream” His voice whispered into my mind,once my eyes opened again. The clock turned 11:30 am as my feet shuffled to the floor below me and my body stands up from my bed. Opening my phone I found it full of texts from Hayley telling me to come over and she needed me. 

Getting myself ready, taking the time to change into something comfortable. I walked down and grabbed a cereal bar to eat on the walk to Hayley’s apartment. Walking a few blocks I kept getting minor flashes of this guy’s face come to me. It’s like he is controlling me and I can’t do anything to stop him. 

Taking a big bite of my bar I crumpled the paper and put it in my pocket for later. Once my feet made it to the street that Hayley lived on, looking down my hands felt a bit cold making me put them in my back pockets. The parking lot was reached as I followed on the sidewalk up to the main entrance. 

Without realizing my body bumped into another person by accident. Almost falling i caught myself and gave out a breath. 

“I’m so sorry, didn’t realize someone was right next to me” Mumbling as my eyes looked at who was right next to me. He looked so familiar to me like we’d met before, then it hit me. He was in my dreams at least I’d thought. 

“Oh no it’s fine, say you look familiar have we met before?” He asked as I gave in to look into his eyes. 

He had the same blue eyes, my dreams we giving me. The same smile and the same everything from what my mind was also giving me. 

“No, don’t think we have” I answered back as my mouth pulled a chuckle “I’m Y/n” Pulling out my hand for him to shake. 

Once he accepted my hand, he bit his bottom lip. “I’m Colson”       

#sammie's writings #mgk imagine #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine

[faerites]

25, 27, 35, 84 & 89 for your hawkes? bonus question because i love hawkes: what do they think of the other companions? but if that would be too long an answer you can leave that one lmao

under cut for length, i got Too Many Hawkes

25. what is their biggest flaw?

ashes   —   ooh. his loyalty to people is usually a good thing, but i think it’d probably be his most obvious flaw, too. he can definitely take it too far; for example, if his friend is blatantly in the wrong in a situation, yeah he’ll try to persuade them to see/do differently but if he really can’t then he’ll always back them up rather than sticking to what he believes is right, even if he doesn’t like it. when anders blew up the chantry (yeah yeah #AndersWasRight etcetc but) it’s not something ashes would approve of if it had been anyone other than a loved one behind it; he Massively prefers diplomacy and peace and he doesn’t condone loss of life in any situation. but specifically Because it was anders he’ll work himself to the bone defending him and making excuses even if it puts him in a situation he really doesn’t want to be in amulet   —   god where to begin. i love her dearly but she is Made of flaws. it could be her materialism and how spoiled she is; she does have her reasons for it (she grew up poor and on the run, so when she finally has money and luxury she clings to it for all it’s worth so as not to lose it again), but she definitely takes it way too far. she’s obsessed w wealth and physical possessions and she places way too much value on having and getting them. it could also be her obliviousness; she really just Can’t Tell when she’s getting on someone’s nerves or when she’s being unfair or when she’s doing something wrong, and if someone says anything about it to her she’ll treat it as a personal attack that came out of nowhere. she’s also super self-absorbed, which ties into her materialism — she doesn’t do it intentionally, and she’s a genuinely sweet person if you dig under it all, but most people don’t see that side of her and the parts they Do see are pretty off-putting. ryan   —   Self-Deprecation Central Baby. they honestly jump to extreme lengths to blame themselves for everything; there are things like their mother’s and brother’s deaths, which they’ve convinced themselves they could have prevented if they’d been faster, stronger, more skilled, etcetera, but it’s also like… if something bad happens on the other side of the country and they hear about it, they’ll be like if only i’d been there, i could have helped, oh god it’s my fault which is. ridiculous. it Very much weighs them down and they are Not a happy person (after everything they begin to convince themselves that everyone close to them Will get hurt bc they’re like. a curse on people which is not fun) tristan   —   once again, where to begin. he’s just a bastard through-and-through. i guess i’ll go with his indifference. he just Does Not Care about you or your problems and he’s not going to pretend he does. he can watch awful shit happening in front of him and not bat an eye because, well, it’s got nothing to do with him. being named champion is A Nightmare because now people think they can ask him for help with the dumbest shit and he Hates it. he’s also super cold; he genuinely doesn’t particularly place any value on the lives of people he doesn’t know, and he Literally Has straight-up killed people who just happen to get on his nerves (see: javaris tintop). rowan   —   hm. probably his stubbornness. once he’s formed an opinion on something, or he plans to do something, you Cannot dissuade him from it no matter what, and no matter who the person trying to is. it’s gotten him in danger, it’s gotten his friends in danger, and it’s gotten innocent bystanders in danger.

27. what is their biggest strength?

ashes   —   his compassion. he’ll take you in off the streets and cook you a warm meal if you need it, he’ll help you out in any way you ask no matter what he’s doing, he’ll stitch you little gifts out of the blue for no particular occasion. he’s filled with a lot of love and he has no compunctions about sharing it around; he just wants everyone to be happy and safe. amulet   —   her generosity. she’s self-centered in a lot of ways, like i described in the last question, but she’s also genuinely charitable. she loves Giving to her friends and feeling needed and appreciated; she’ll help you with money, she’ll buy things for you at the slightest indication you like something, she’ll give you clothes and do your hair and makeup for you (along with some obliviously harsh comments about how awful it all looked before and how she has to help you fix it). ryan   —   it feels a little like repeating ashes’ answer, but their kindness. same as he does, they’re filled with love, and they want to make sure everyone gets more than their fair share of it, whether they know you or not. they’ll bankrupt themselves donating to people, and they’ll help out more than they can handle until they’re exhausted and worn, and they’ll never ask for anything in return. tristan   —   his intelligence or his honesty. he’s quick-witted in a street-smart kind of way; he knows how things work, is pretty good at reading people and seeing past what they say and how they act on the surface, and he can calculate what the most effective way of doing something is in Seconds (this can, of course, be bad too; he can fling a knife into someone’s head at the perfect angle before anyone else has even had time to realise what he’s considering). as for his honesty, he just really doesn’t see the point in lying; it’s not that he has a moral objection to it, but lying just feels useless to him. he doesn’t care enough about things to want to hide them or cover them up; if he doesn’t like someone, he’ll just tell them straight-out; if he doesn’t want to do something, he’ll say so; and if he wants to hurt someone, the truth can often do that far easier than a lie. rowan   —   probably his courage and loyalty. pretty self-explanatory; he’ll fight to the death for you, and if you’re loyal to him, he’ll be loyal to you until the end.

35. what is the easiest way to annoy them?

ashes   —   anyone being needlessly cruel and unkind is the obvious one, but that just saddens him more than it annoys him. i’ll go with people escalating things, choosing violence where it doesn’t need to be chosen; if there’s a peaceful solution viable, and someone decides to go in guns blazing instead of trying it first, he has no respect for that. amulet   —   honestly, just not appreciating her. if she feels ignored or put-down or disliked, she will throw something of a tantrum over it. she comes off as arrogant to people sometimes, but it’s more of an intense need to be liked and wanted; if she feels like she’s not getting that, it upsets her very easily and she’ll lash out and get defensive. ryan   —   any kind of injustice or bullying will fire them up. it’s pretty hard to anger or annoy them, but that’s a fairly sure way of managing it; they Do Not respond well to seeing the brutality mages have to endure, especially picturing bethany and anders and merrill and her father in those situations, and they do end up having little arguments with aveline here and there about how the guards treat city elves once their eyes are opened to that. they hate stereotypes and prejudice. tristan   —   just. be up in his face and don’t respect his boundaries. talkative people piss him off pretty quick (he’d Hate amulet). he doesn’t like people getting over-familiar (he is Not Your Friend, and he does not appreciate you acting like he is), and asking him for favours is also guaranteed to irritate him, especially if you Keep Doing It for things you could easily handle yourself or with someone that is Not Him. rowan   —   templars. templars. circles. anti-mage rhetoric. he Will get into a bar-fight over this. he will get fired up and passionate and Fervent over this in casual conversation.

84. which deadly sin do they represent best?

ashes   —   it’s kind of unexpected, but i’ll go with lust. somewhat by process of elimination, because he doesn’t really fit any of the others, but it does make sense from a certain perspective. amulet   —   easily greed, with pride and envy close behind. ryan   —   sloth. more the mental kind than the physical. DepressionTM. tristan   —   wrath. rowan   —   probably wrath too.

89. what is their d&d alignment?

ashes   —   neutral good. amulet   —   lawful neutral throughout the game, but post-game after travelling for a while with isabela and loosening up a bit she probably falls into true neutral. ryan   —   neutral good. tristan   —   chaotic evil? chaotic neutral? i could see arguments for both. rowan   —   chaotic good.

#oc: ashes hawke #oc: amulet hawke #oc: ryan hawke #oc: tristan hawke #oc: rowan hawke #asks #i'll answer the bonus in another post

[katsukisbeatingheart]

another round

you try to pick a fight and propose all in the same night.

word count: 1803

ao3!

Neon swirled in and out of focus. It reminded you of something important and unpleasant, and you were certain you’d spent the night trying to forget.

Since you couldn’t quite remember, you figured you’d won—and with that, you mentally jotted down a glowing tally mark on a scoreboard you wore on your sleeve.

Somewhere in the back, Pearl Jam played in a broken record on the juke box, and the gradual thump of the bass nearly knocked you to your feet. Inebriated as you were, you held on to that feeble consciousness and clutched at the bar stool in front of you.

You found shaky bearings, and steadied yourself with slicked palms on the laminated countertop, finding patterns and familiar faces in the hardwood. Squinting crudely at the shadows, you scrutinized each shape with all of the enmity you could muster to no avail.

You knew you were looking for something, and you knew it made you mad, but the buzz in your brain derailed your train of thought. With a frustrated huff, your scrunched nose reddened with a fury, and the clock ticked away the night.

...

The door swung open and closed and the figure that strode in with an impassive gait, drew a collection of eyes. Hands tucked into pockets of jeans sloping way too low along the waist, Katsuki slinked to the bar top, dropping into the seat furthest from people.

Which was only one chair away from a statuesque silhouette, silently enamoured with something he figured was embedded into the counter. He watched silently out of the corner of his eye wondering what this idiot could be doing—before his attention turned to the tender on the other side offering him a drink. Katsuki placed an order and waited for it to slide his way.

A few deathly still moments later and Bakugo was suddenly clutching a glass in one hand, as he rubbed the exhaustion away from his eyes with the other.

The bartender moved in on you sitting completely still, looking a little concerned.

“You alright?”

“Dumb faces in your counter. Needs fixing.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be lookin’ at yourself in it then,” Bakugo smirked to himself.

You lolled your head to face him.

“Try me, bitch,” you slurred, with as much of an incisive bite a drunken tongue could have.

His red eyes tuned into you, raising an eyebrow in slight surprise. He admired your spunk—not without noticing the headache crawling up the sides of his head.

"You really think you should be picking a fight like that?"

"Hey! You started it," you mumbled childishly. "'Sides, I could take you."

Bakugo was growing more amused now.

"That so? What makes you so sure?" He challenged.

"Met things way scarier than you."

Bakugo didn't want to think about the ominous implications of that. He furrowed his glare into the glass he twirled in his hands.

He didn't say anything.

Silence ate the space and it only took a few minutes to break.

The creaking of the doorstep caught Bakugo's attention, and he listened as three pairs of feet shuffled into the bar. They moved to make a beeline for a table on the other side of the room, and when they got close enough, Bakugo peered over his shoulder.

He took his glass in his hand and downed the rest of it, drumming his fingers along the counter with some finality before standing to go meet his friends.

...

“Hey. That person over there—at the bar—’s been sittin' super still for quite a while.”

“Do you think they’re okay?" More of a flat concerned statement than a lilted inquiry.

“Wait— Hey they’re kinda cute, don'tcha think?”

“Dare you to go talk to ‘em, Bakugo.”

The man grunted. "Tried that."

His friends went fish face—eyes popping wide and jaws dropping to the table. Bakugo had to keep from snorting; they looked like his goldfish back home.

Denki raised his glass to his lips, peering between the topsy turvy figure at the bar, and the surly one right across from him, staring in a blend of shock, confusion, and envy.

"Strike out, didja?"

"Hah? You think I'd take a shot at someone like that?" Bakugo barked, sensing a challenge to his dignity. Sero and Kirishima whooped, taking the word 'shot' as their cue to—well—take a shot. 

Bakugo was too busy grumbling about how ridiculous his friends were, to notice the shock of blonde hair next to him bristle. 

"Hey man, looks like they've got some company." Denki pointed with his glass, gesturing to the silhouette closing in behind you.

"And it looks like they want to be alone, though," Kirishima conjected. 

Bakugo exhaled through his nose, staring straight ahead at the dartboard hanging on the wall. "Then we'll leave them alone."

Hanta eyed you warily. "I don't think that's such a good idea, man."

Bakugo looked. He wasn't good with people, but it didn't take a genius to recognize the clear way you hid and curled into yourself defensively once the stranger had your attention. He felt his pulse quicken, and the cold that ran along his skin told him enough.

He groaned loudly, slamming his glass on the wooden tabletop, and shoved back in his chair. 

He stalked over with ease, trying to avoid making a scene by rushing in.

His eyes caught the way your hands pressed themselves into the figure's shoulder—like you were trying to put distance between you two.

"S-seriousl-ly, go aw—"

Only it worked too well, and suddenly you slid off the back end of your seat, tipping backward to meet the floor.

Bakugo had taken long enough strides to get to you in time, and you—not without any modicum of drunken grace—smacked into his chest. His arms locked around your midsection while you tried to find the ground with your feet.

You inevitably gave up and tipped your chin back to look at who had saved you.

Your eyes widened in hazy recognition, and you bubbled over in his hold.

"We're getting married."

"What?"

"This!" You loudly proclaimed, "is my financé."

Bakugo blinked at you wildly, looking and feeling like a deer in headlights. He hadn't exactly come up with a plan on the way over, but he was certain that hadn't crossed his mind.

"Sure. We broke up only three and a half months ago—you seriously expect me to believe some ding-dong would ask to marry you, all in that time?"

Nevertheless, he could play along.

"I'm sure as hell not marrying this dumbass," Bakugo stated.

The woozy hurt swam in your eyes, and you could feel the humiliating sneer burning into the back of your head.

"—but I'd be a fucking idiot to deny that we weren't together." His menacing glare held your ex square in the face, and Bakugo unconsciously shifted so you were pressed a little deeper into his chest.

They didn't know what to say, eyes flicking between the both of you as if what he'd said were the most scandalous thing in the world. The ex grew sheepish, obviously growing increasingly more threatened under the gaze of Bakugo Katsuki. 

Not any less egotistical, though.

"What? And we can't have a little chat, then? Just like two old friends?"

"I've seen enough of what's happening here to know that's not how it's gonna be."

He didn't even wait for a response, and instead dipped to slide his arm beneath your knees, the other supporting your back, as he held you to his chest once again. Bakugo strode toward the door, shoving it open with a pointed nod to the figure left balking at the bar.

...

You awoke to the soft shifting of your sheets, a handful clumped desperately in the tightness of your grip. Something vaguely sweet and not you lingered on the extra pillow next to you, the same side your fingers curled around.

You rolled up slightly in your place. The pounding headache that panged around your skull reminded you why you couldn't remember much of anything from last night.

Except... 

You gasped, pulling the sheets tightly to your—still very clothed—figure. That didn't make you feel any less bare, though. Especially after who you'd run into. 

A shuffle at your door ignited the already creeping fear of what could have possibly transpired last night. Without moving from your place in bed, you leaned out to look through your bedroom doorway.

The person in your living room was not the person you expected to see. 

The fear was suddenly placed with confusion, which only heightened when the man hurriedly shoving on his shoes froze as he spotted you too.

"Who are you?" 

The handsome stranger paused for a moment longer, as if he were trying to comprehend that you were actually speaking to him.

"I'm your boyfriend." 

How blunt.

You relaxed into a crooked smile, not at all adverse to such an idea.

"Oh, yeah? And how was it that we met?" 

"You tried to pick a fight with me." 

This actually surprised you, and you couldn't hold back the laugh bubbling up your throat.

"Can I ask for my boyfriend's name?"

The man sniffed, nonchalantly stopping in his rush out the door. "My name's Bakugo. Katsuki."

"Katsuki," you mused. "That's a lovely name. I assume you know mine, right?"

He shifted, reaching for the wallet he fished out of your back pocket to get to your spare key. Katsuki grabbed it and flipped it to you across the room. "Had to get you home somehow."

You chewed your lip to bite back a bashful smile. Your words were just barely above a whisper, but Katsuki heard them loud and clear. 

"Thank you for taking care of me."

He huffed the embarrassment away, not willing to show that he'd been staring longer than he'd meant to.

"Don't mention it."

There was a silence as Katsuki slowly began gathering his things again, aiming to smoothly escape out the door. You stopped him in his tracks though, the playful lilt in your voice bending him with your every syllable.

"You know—if you're my boyfriend and all—surely you could stick around a few more minutes?" you teased.

"Are you inviting me to bed," he grunted lowly, facing your unfaltering grin, despite the blush that exploded across your cheeks. 

"I meant to cuddle or something; no offense, but I'm not ready for that, yet."

Katsuki thought for a moment, staring with a slight pout while he weighed his options. 

With a very obvious 'fuck it' shrug, he kicked off his shoes and swept quickly into your room. He climbed atop your covers, grabbing you to his chest—for the fourth (and probably not the last) time in his life.

"I hope I make it a habit of picking fights with you, from here on."

#bnha #bnha x reader #x reader #mha x reader #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bnha writing #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha writing #my hero imagines #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #my writing #a123

[val-bananatine]

The grasp of hope (Melicia fanfic)

Title: La saisie d'espoir/ The grasp of hope

Pairing: Amicia x Melie (Melicia)

Genre: Romance

Rating: K

Overall word count: 8k +

Chapter word count: 3,030

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine but Asobo studios property. But I’m always happy to borrow these wonderful characters

____

Birds were chirping merrily on this early morning, a supposedly unusual sound after the Bite has still been raging just a week ago. The people who survived this catastrophe were still in shock, most of them still not able to believe that it really is over now. And so the soft chirping of the birds as the first rays of sunlight hit the surface was a very welcomed change for everyone; a sign of rising hope for some and a motivation to start a normal routine in life again.

But not everyone was about to go back to their old life again; some had to adapt to a new way of living or voluntarily grasped the chance of change.

One of those people was Melie, who was awaken by sunbeams shining through the window as the sun began to rise, announcing the start of the day at 6 am with it.

She groaned and squinted slightly as she carefully pressed her face into the bed, not wanting to wake up yet. But that try was in vain; realizing that she won’t be able to sleep more, she let out a quiet huff and turned her head around to face the, in her eyes quite mean, window instead of the bed’s mattress.

This sleep being the most peaceful and comfortable she had since she could remember was what made her feel rather grumpy about waking up. Wishing that she could have stayed asleep forever just to stay on this comfortable bed made the thief realize where exactly she was sleeping; and why she was.

It was thanks to Amicia. The thief stayed with the young, noble woman after the fight against Vitalis was won. A soft blush crept on the redhead’s cheeks as she thought back to the reason of her stay:

Flashback:

Melie was watching the scene in front of her with an overwhelming mixture of emotions. There he lied, the man who was responsible for her twin’s death, in the end killed by his own weapon under Hugo’s control. The rage and craving for revenge that she felt before suddenly vanished at the sight of his dead body and were replaced by a feeling of emptiness. Now that she got her revenge, the one thing that fueled her and motivated her to keep on walking forward, she now was facing the realization of an empty life without a goal. She was so focused on avenging Arthur’s death that she didn’t think of the future until now, of what she would now do without him.

‘The future has to wait a bit longer’ was what she told herself a few seconds later when she hurried over to Beatrice De Rune, who was about to collapse, to support her standing. Even if she’ll have to think about what to do sooner or later, now it was more important to take care of the current situation and its people, beginning at Lucas who already thought about a mixture to strengthen Beatrice, over to said woman and ending at the two siblings, Amicia and Hugo, who hugged each other tightly in shock and dawning realization of the hell finally being over.

Melie’s eyes were locked at the sight of the exhausted Amicia, who’s eyes were closed as she tried to calm her breathing and pulled Hugo closer to herself. The thief watched the two siblings with a mixture of worry and an aching sting of envy. But the latter disappeared in a matter of seconds, she was more glad about the two being alive and not having to go through the same pain she was going through now than to envy the luck they had. At least that was what she told herself so; and it was true, the painful loss just clouded her thinking and it took her a bit to regain the control over her mind.

Several minutes of silence passed until the thief decided to break it: “Hugo? Amicia? D’you need anything or are you two alright?”

Those words made Amicia blink at first, as if she was pulled out of a trance by them, before she shook her head and looked over to the group “Ah no, don’t worry… we didn’t get injured too badly.”

Both, Melie and Beatrice, let out a sigh of relief at that response and the latter whispered barely audible: “It’s over… it’s finally over...”

Lucas, who faintly heard her words, nodded slowly and sighed as well: “It’s hard to believe that it’s really done now… and that it’s not just a break like it was before.”

He looked around in the room, especially eyeing the two siblings before looking back at the weak alchemist: “But I think that we should leave this place now… Lady De Rune needs her wounds to be treated and a lot of rest, just like everyone else of us. And we can’t stay here too…”

Everyone nodded in agreement and slowly left the doomed place, careful to support Beatrice walking so that she didn’t get any more strained.

_____________

The group found the still intact ruin of an inn nearby, and luckily Lucas found herbs and other things he needed in an alchemist cart across the street so they agreed on staying there for at least the following day. Just like Lucas recommended, the group headed to sleep once Beatrice’s wounds were treated for the first of many times and after they all sat together to try and grasp what happened.

But the thief couldn’t even think about sleeping and so she quietly sneaked out of the front door, not planning to leave but just to sit down on the street, being thankful for the cold but calm night breeze which is said to help clearing one’s mind. She thought back to everything that happened, her mind getting stuck around two things, or rather two persons. The first of course being her brother and his death. Her heart ached at the image of how he lied lifeless on the ground and she felt the need to cry out in a way to realize the upcoming pain. She didn’t cry out; instead she found herself busy with the dreaded question of what to do now. And while the redhead thought about the possibilities, the second person in her mind gained a more important role in her upcoming plans.

“Amicia…” Melie didn’t notice how the whispered name left her lips, nor how the door was quietly opened mere seconds ago and how a certain person silently listened to the barely audible whisper due to being deeply lost in her thoughts.

Only when that person carefully put a hand on the thief’s shoulder after a few moments of silence, said thief winced slightly and quickly turned her head around to look into the worried face of the noble girl.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you… but you’ve been rather quiet since the moment Vitalis was defeated… and I wanted to check up on you- seeing if you’re alright after… you know…” A soft but concerned smile appeared on Amicia’s lips and she slowly sat down next to Melie, who faintly blushed at the worry of Amicia having heard her whispering her name; the appearing sadness dominating over the embarrassment though when Amicia mentioned Arthur’s death.

“No no… was just thinking. About him… and what to do now, y’know?” Melie didn’t understand why she immediately opened up to Amicia and told her what was genuinely on her mind, but she didn’t question it, nor did she want to question this as well now next to all the other things on her mind.

Amicia nodded slowly, showing that she understood what Melie meant, but not being sure about how to properly answer so she remained quiet. And so did Melie; she too was now silent as her mind wandered off once more.

So both girls were quiet for several minutes until Amicia hesitatingly began to speak again: “So… uhm- may I ask… if you have anything in mind…?”

Melie sighed quietly and shook her head “No- nothing… I just- don’t know,” she paused for a bit before continuing, getting quieter at the end until it was just a soft mumbling, “I’m not sure what to do… I wanna stay here, with you… and the others, you grew close to me… but I don’t know if I can take it, ya know? ‘Cos everything reminds me of Arthur, how he’s not here anymore… and how he was killed...”

Once she was finished letting her current thoughts out, her head found Amicia’s shoulder as she seemed to basically collapse from all her worries. And Amicia carefully put an arm around the thief while leaning her own head against the other girl’s in an attempt to give the thief some sort of comfort.

“In the end… you decide what is best for you, and that is the most important too… to do what helps you. But I can’t deny that I would miss you more than a lot if you would decide for leaving,” Amicia mumbled softly while leaning against the thief, her free hand searching for one of Melie’s.

Once her hand grasped the thief’s, she carefully squeezed it before continuing: “Even though I’d do that, I would still support you to the fullest and wish you the very best, just like I would if you decide to stay with m- with us. No matter for what you decide, it’ll be the best for you I know…”

Melie couldn’t help but to smile softly at Amicia’s words, feeling deeply honored and flustered by the care of her: “You’re always there for me… no matter what happens. You’re damn kind to me, y’know that?”

“Of course I am,” the brunette let out a soft laugh, “B-because I really care about you and your well-being… deeply care about it” but mumbled more the closer she got to admitting her true feelings until she failed to word a full sentence.

“Caring deeply about me…” Melie blinked and whispered it to herself, not really noticing the quiet nod from Amicia, who now was silently thinking about what she just said.

While the noble girl did want to continue talking and confess to the redhead next to her, she just couldn’t bring herself to it. She was refusing to tell Melie about her feelings, thinking that it wouldn’t be right of her to do so while Melie’s still grieving about her brother and to possibly influence her decision on staying or leaving with her confession.

But Amicia didn’t even need to take the first step into that direction. It was Melie who started to whisper after minutes of silence: “Y’know… I care a damn lot about you too.. you’re- probably the most important living person to me. That’s why I don’t really wanna leave, it would be like losing you… and I don’t think it’d be worth being away from this place.”

Amicia started to blush at hearing that the thief cared just as much about her in return, but her eyes widened slightly at hearing about being the only reason of a possible stay: “But Melie… are you sure about that? I- I don’t want you to stay for me if leaving from here would turn out to be what you should have chosen-”

She couldn’t question it any more though, because she was politely interrupted by a soft nudge from the thief, who nodded slightly confident at her when she turned her head to face Melie, who started speaking at that moment; the thief’s blush increasing more through her confession: “Yeah- I’m more than sure about it. ‘Cos… I do have feelings for ya which are way more than just caring… and I think it’s safe to say that those feelings are called love. Over the time we spent together- I really fell in love with you. So… leaving would most likely hurt more. ‘Cos… now that I think ‘bout it, I probably wouldn’t get a clear head from being away from the memories with Arthur. They’d just hit more and then on top leaving you behind… no. Wouldn’t be better.”

Melie was honestly not even sure where she was heading with her speech after she confessed. Once the hardest piece, the confession, left her mouth, it was like a plug vanished and suddenly she found herself letting everything out that was on her mind, even the rather confusing train of argumentation against leaving. And she prayed that Amicia still understood what she meant to say.

Much to the thief’s relief, the noble girl got a bright smile and blush on her face once she seemed to have grasped the fact that Melie confessed her feelings to her.

“I fell in love with you too, Melie-”

Those words were enough to make Melie smile widely and to let her mind practically spin, so it took her every bit of willpower to listen to the rest of Amicia’s sentence instead of immediately crushing her in a tight hug…

Flashback end

___________________

Melie got a huge smile again when she thought back to the moment where they confessed to each other, a blush joining her smile as she thought of their tender first kiss following after it. Not even realizing that she was lost in that happy memory since minutes, instead she found herself feeling happy and relieved about the outcome.

She remembered the following morning as well, when Lucas suggested to visit the De Rune’s estate to grab the leftover potions before they would all start to travel in a search for a new place to live.

But no one would have guessed that they could actually live there again. Hugo coincidentally bumped against the hardened black secrete of the rats, breaking it in the process and revealing that the substance beneath it looked as good as new. The thief also remembered how the group then proceeded to destroy more of the secrete, in the end even with the help of some villagers, to try and free the entire estate. It was a lot of work, but worth it at last. Because as everyone then found out, the secrete was simply a loose sediment above the surface of whatever it covered and therefore leaving that surface entire unharmed, except for any windows or similar that it broke through. It also dried out once the rats disappeared so that it was easy to remove.

And since then Melie stayed with Lucas and the De Rune’s at their house, all of them being visibly relieved of returning to their beloved home and not having to search for something unknown.

The redhead had to admit that she liked that estate as well and could understand why the others were so glad about it; it was different from everything she saw before and in a way it was something new and unknown to her like it would have been if she traveled away. It was just another reason why she was more than glad about deciding in favor of Amicia and staying with her instead of leaving.

Thinking once more about her made Melie carefully turn around to face the other side of her, where Amicia was still sleeping peacefully.

They were able to fully live in the estate since a few days and even though the thief has been sleeping next to Amicia every day since then, she still couldn’t help but to feel amazed by the view of the sleeping girl next to her and fact that someone noble like Amicia would really love her and want to be with her.

But every time she thought about the joy and luck she had now, there was a dark thought creeping up. And every time she thought about it, making herself upset with it as she couldn’t help but to think that it was true. Until now she always pushed that thought back once her lover woke up, the upcoming worry immediately being replaced by endless joy when the brunette showed her a bright smile.

Now was one of those moments again where Melie kept on thinking, and this time Amicia was still asleep, so Melie automatically thought more about it while she watched the noble girl with a small smile. Said smile turned into an upset one as she thought about the difference between them and she let out a soft sigh, followed by a barely audible whisper: “Am I really the right one for you…?”

That was the thought, which haunted her since the group has arrived at the estate. The thief’s mind kept on reminding her about their class differences, which she was able to shrug of as not important, but the moment her mind brought up ‘You’re just a thief, how could you ever make her truly happy?’ was the moment where she started to think about that, worrying that she indeed couldn’t give her everything that she deserved.

“I wonder… Am I good enough for you…?” Melie bit her lip when a sob threatened to escape her mouth and she turned her head to look down on the mattress instead of the beautiful face in front of her, “What if not-”

She was silent for several minutes, her mind deeply clouded by all the upcoming worries and the fatal thought which made her sigh and look at Amicia once more.

“I- I’m sorry Amicia…” Again she whispered so quietly that it wasn’t audible for anyone but herself before she carefully sat up. Her movements being as slow and quiet as possible to not wake the sleeping girl up.

Melie looked back at the bed once she was standing, the view of Amicia’s soft smile making her hesitate to continue moving. Her mind started to clear up a bit and she began to doubt that she has decided for the right thing, but the worrying thought ‘What if you’re going to upset her with staying... not able to give her what she deserves?’ was enough to cloud her mind once more and make her sneak silently but quickly out of the room, leaving her lover behind without another looking back; she knew that she couldn’t bear to leave then.

~To be continued~

Part 2

#Wish I was sorry for this cliffhanger #but I so am not #I swear this won't be the end of our loveable french lesbians #so don't worry #A Plague Tale: Innocence #a plague tale #apti #amicia #apti amicia #Amicia De Rune #melie #apti melie #amicia x melie #melie x amicia #Melicia #fanfiction #fanfic