#*sprints into the room with this au multiple months late and completely out of breath* H E R E

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Untamed TAZ Balance AU? Don't have to write anything, just consider that (is Wen Ning Lucretia in this or is he too nice for that)

NHS IS LUCRETIA, NHS IS ABSOLUTELY LUCRETIA, I HAVE THOUGHTS, my girlfriend yelled at me for these thoughts.  Hell this got long, I’ve literally been saving it in my drafts until Tumblr fixed the Read More issue.

WWX is Taako, JC is Magnus, WQ is Merle, JYL is in the umbrella (became a lich to keep her brother from doing it), WN is the Red Robe (became a lich because he thought it seemed reasonable), NHS is Lucretia, XXC is Davenport, LWJ and LXC are mutually Kravitz (LXC sets his bro up with the death criminal wizard), Wen Zhuliu is John Vore, LSZ is Angus but also a baby Reaper

ONE

So Wei Wuxian isn’t really a wizard, is the thing.  Like, he does the wizard magic, and apparently he has strong Wizard Vibes because wherever he travels, people ask him if he can solve their magical bullshit problems, but he’s, like, barely a wizard.  He’s an inventor, technically, except that a few years back some stuff went explosively awry while he worked with this traveling show and–yeah.  So he’s working as a wizard because, hey, he can cast Magic Missile and he needs to eat and he’s an Evocation specialist, anyway, so it’s not like he’s out here making food from rocks.  He’s hired on with a couple other random jackasses, a fighter who took a dislike to Wei Wuxian right off the bat and a cleric with a bad temper and an itchy Sacred Flame finger, and they’re doing a job for some dwarf, or whatever.  The dwarf has a guy hired on as muscle, but he doesn’t look like much, all wide eyes and baby face.  He calls himself Qionglin, no last name, and stares at Wen Qing like he’s never seen a cleric before, and Jiang Cheng spends the entire trip to Phandolin messing with his whip, which is the stupidest weapon Wei Wuxian has ever seen.

Well, then everything immediately goes horribly wrong, though, and turns out that Jiang Cheng is pretty okay with that whip.  Qionglin (Wei Wuxian spoke to the man all of one time, but he was sweet, if a little awkward) gets himself kidnapped by a bunch of goblins, and their employer is gods-know-where with whatever a Black Spider is, and suddenly this very boring escort mission is a very not boring rescue mission.

There’s a skeleton in the cave.  Wei Wuxian takes an umbrella from it, and it crumbles into dust beneath its red robe.  There’s a very annoyed man with a sword who calls himself Song Lan and speaks in static, and he’s somehow not the weirdest part of this whole day.

Phandolin doesn’t survive its brush with the Zidian Gauntlet, and neither does Qionglin.  Wen Qing screams when he dies, and Wei Wuxian grabs her under the arms with Jiang Cheng and books it for the empty well in Song Lan’s wake, and they just hide.  

And then they go to the goddamn moon, apparently.

TWO

The goddamn moon is run by an older man with hair still a glossy black, toying with a beautifully painted white fan in his hand.  He calls himself the Director and–after some testing–hires them more or less on the spot.  Something flickers over his face when Wen Qing, bemused by her own upset, makes an offhand mention of a man named Qionglin who died when the Gauntlet brought down so much lightning that it turned Phandolin into black glass.  But it’s not Wei Wuxian’s problem, so he doesn’t worry himself over it too much.  He takes the payment offered to him by the Director’s aide, a blindfolded, stunningly handsome man in Bureau blue and white who rests his hand on his own chest and says “Xiao Xingchen” and not another word.

The Bureau is–weird.  They’ve got a giant jellyfish and a store run by–something Wei Wuxian Does Not Trust and a dorm.  Wei Wuxian laughs and kicks Jiang Cheng cheerfully in the ankle and says “Just like college, huh?” and Jiang Cheng gives him a dark look and snaps “I never went to college.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, blinking.  “Me neither.”

Whatever.  They go on a train adventure and there’s a kid, a kid who blinks and stares at Wei Wuxian like he’s seen a goddamn ghost and immediately walks up to introduce himself as Lan Sizhui, boy detective.

Wei Wuxian fucking loves this kid.  He’s not sure why this wide-eyed fifteen-year-old latched onto him so hard, but he’s smart, funny, loyal, and extremely easy to pick on.  13/10 child rating, in Wei Wuxian’s book.

(Sizhui, for his part, more or less kicks down the door to his father’s offices in the Astral Plane the second the Reclaimers are gone and shouts “I HAVE A LEAD ON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WORLD.”)

(His father, Lan Wangji, the Grim Reaper, is very interested to hear all about it–especially when his son casually name-drops three of the biggest bounties that the Raven King, his adoptive elder brother, has ever sent him after, with the exception of that absolutely insufferably sweet-tempered lich Wen Ning.)

THREE

So…the Crystal Kingdom.

Is it Wei Wuxian’s finest hour, shouting obscure tentacle-related threats at the second crystal construct they’ve seen in the past twenty minutes?  No, probably not.  But it’s been a stressful day, they’re already down one Regulator and Song Lan is fuck-knows-where with Mianmian and, again, this is the second menacing crystal construct they’ve seen in twenty minutes.  Or maybe it’s the same one? 

Whatever, doesn’t matter.  They’re here to hunt down Meng Yao, a scientist who’s been dicking around with some seriously ill-advised necromancy and also the Philosopher’s Stone, and a crystal construct or two isn’t going to stop them.

Wei Wuxian actually physically cannot help himself, though, when the Reapers appear in the mirror, a matched set of beautiful men, and he grins broadly at the one glaring at him most viciously.  They get let go on a technicality, along with a conduit still containing Meng Shi’s memory of a vision beyond the cosmos, and Meng Yao leaves with his life and not much more.

Later, Lan Wangji is absolutely betrayed by the realization that his brother willfully set him up to be the primary go-between for the completely breathtaking deeply irritating wizard-by-way-of-death-criminal.  And that’s before the whole lich revelation.  (He does get a kiss, though, after he watches his brother pulled under by the Hunger.  That’s nice.  He hopes Wei Wuxian will mitigate the death crimes now that they’re dating.)

FOUR

The seven Relics are as follows:

The Zidian Gauntlet, which can generate a lightning blast so powerful that it can obliterate an entire city.  (Jiang Cheng–he watched the others try to lay in protections, try to make their Relics harmless, and he knew it wouldn’t work.  All the Gauntlet does is damage.  It can melt a city down to black glass, but it can’t be twisted, it can’t be made into any more of a nightmare than it already is.  He’s a fighter.  He knows all about damage, knew all about what he was making.  That doesn’t mean it didn’t kill him by inches to watch it leave a path of destruction–so much that his beloved jiejie tried to seal it away.)

The Oculus, which can make any construct real.  (Xiao Xingchen–Nie Huaisang didn’t take everything.  He doesn’t remember the mission, or his own past.  Something strange got confused in the process, and he lost most of his speech.  But he remembers how to fight, handles his sword as cleanly and effectively as ever, and he remembers that he doesn’t think much of Nie Huaisang’s combat skills.  Or maybe it’s just really obvious that Nie Huaisang isn’t much of a fighter.  Regardless, Xiao Xingchen insisted on accompanying him, before–before.  Then they went into the Felicity Wilds, and…Xue Yang is honestly delighted.  He’s never managed to ruin someone so badly on the way into Wonderland before.  It’s just a shame that Nie Huaisang sent Xiao Xingchen away before they reached the doors.)

The Healer’s Sash, which can manipulate natural forces like the wind, the tides, and tectonic plates just as easily as it can manipulate a heartbeat or a pair of lungs.  (Wen Qing–she prays to Pelor, the Dawnfather, the healer and Lord of Light, but she’s long since lost her faith in him as anything but a contracted boss.  It’s a shock to everyone including her when she’s granted a right arm made of glass and magic after losing it.  She was so determined to make a Relic that could be used for good, but–well.  She supposes she should have known better.)

The Philosopher’s Stone, which can more or less transform anything into anything.  (Jiang Yanli–she’s a Transmutation wizard, she’s been feeding the crew of the Starblaster for a hundred years on whatever she can pull together.  If the right person found the Stone, it would have ended world hunger.  The wrong person found the stone.  Jiang Yanli tried her damnedest to hunt it down, but she found the Gauntlet first, and, well–she already became a lich to stop one younger brother from doing it.  It’s not a struggle to decide that she’s going to take responsibility for saving Jiang Cheng from his own guilt.  Then things go horribly wrong, and she spends the next twelve years in an umbrella.)

The Temporal Chalice, which offers complete control over time.  (Wen Ning–he was a strict scholar until his sister was contacted about the IPRE’s creation, but he always did want to travel, and his theories about bonds were too good for Xiao Xingchen to pass up having on his crew.  Everything he’s done since they lost their home system has been about trying not to leave his family, about trying for second chances, he became a lich for them, he’s done everything to stay with them, of course his Relic is a second chance generator.)

The Animus Flute, which offers control over the spirits of the dead and, in the hands of a sufficiently competent expert, the living.  (Wei Wuxian–he’s watched his brother, his sister, his friends, die so many times.  He’s terrified of immortality, but he’s most terrified of being alone.  He meant to make something that could keep the dead present, so that they would never have to fear being left behind again.  Watching it rip Jiang Cheng’s soul clean out of his body in Xue Yang’s hands is the worst thing Wei Wuxian can remember, even after everything is over.)

The Bulwark, which Nie Huaisang never did explain to anyone, but took the shape of a hand-painted fan.  (Nie Huaisang lost the only person who mattered to him when the Hunger ate their home, and then as he slowly, painstakingly, rebuilt something like a family, he had to watch them suffer and die for a hundred years.  And then he watched them win, and grieve like dying all over again for the winning.  He’s sorry they suffered for his actions.  He’s not sorry for what he did.)

FIVE

Wen Zhuliu didn’t mean to make his whole plane give up.  But he had spent his whole life being used, and it all just seemed so pointless.  It all just seemed so pointless.  There was always someone stronger, always something bigger, always a rule he couldn’t break, always something, and he started talking, started telling people as much, and--

Wen Qing is about the farthest thing in the fucking world from a peacemaker by nature, if you ask her, but she’s a healer first, last, and most of all.  And, she thinks as she watches the sun sink with a very tired man crumbling away at her side, she might be the only person in the worlds who ever noticed that Wen Zhuliu needed a healer.

(They aren’t from the same plane, but--some of the others have found distant family, on their new home.  It’s an unanswerable question, if they might have been family, a few dimensions removed.  Wen Ning still thinks about it.)

#the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #taz balance #taz au #starlight writes stuff #*sprints into the room with this au multiple months late and completely out of breath* H E R E #this has been languishing in my drafts for. mm. ever. #i don't even remotely remember enough of my original thoughts about it to provide a lot of tags #but i do have a case for why wzl is john vore (and it's NOT just that i think he's interesting) #i could've made jgy the hunger BUT the plot of taz requires some...reconciliatory ending structure? #and honestly nhs still being something of a puppet master means that i couldn't justify that with jgy #i needed a villain less close to nhs' heart. so i thought about xue yang but i like him as the wonderland lich TOO MUCH. #so instead i thought about who i should make the parlay person--first instincts were jyl and wn because they're Nice #but then i decided that i didn't actually need Nice nearly so much as i needed Invested #and by god can wen qing Invest #so okay--if she was going to do the parlay then i didn't need someone who could be talked around i needed someone who needed a healer #so: wen zhuliu #i don't have to justify myself to you fools #also jgy is always everyone's biggest bad so he can let someone else have a turn #jyl develops a crush on a completely socially awkward rogue from inside an umbrella by the way! #pour one out for jzx because he is NOT equipped for an ethereal woman of violet fire to blush at him #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #thishazeleyeddemon #asked and answered

[tynct]

Model

masterlist

» summary: when you had heard that Na Jaemin was the model, you never could’ve thought he’d ask for your number while you both hid from the photographer

» genre: fluff, model!au

» words: 1.4k

» a/n: send me an au from this list with someone from nct!

When you had first heard of the temporary assistant position for a famous photographer you had admired, you were quick to apply. A week had passed with no word, and you were close to giving up hope when you had received an email from one of the people on his team. It had congratulated you on being chosen, along with his order from starbucks, which had been a little strange, and schedule for the month.

The first shoot was like a dream come true, but by the last, you were dead tired and looking forward to never having to work with him again. You’ve been around so many famous faces it doesn’t even phase you when one of the directors announces that Na Jaemin will be coming in for a quick shoot. The other staff gives a quick nod before he disappears and they immediately chattering amongst themselves about the actor. He was apparently getting ready to debut in his first big movie, but you don’t stay long enough to hear the rest as you rush to pick up the photographers coffee.

You had learned not to bring his coffee after the clint arrives, because then he doesn’t have enough time to drink it, and that’d usually end with him screaming that his coffee was could by the time he could take a break. You would then be the one who had to deal with his temper throughout the rest of the day, ducking when he’d throw a prop and quickly handing him another in his outstretched palm.

Thankfully, by the time you exit the starbucks around the corner with his large black coffee, you have five minutes to spare. The relief of being able to walk back to the studio rather than sprinting lasts for a second before someone slams into you, crushing the cup and splashing the blistering hot drink all over your arm. You don’t even get a chance to yell at the stranger before you’re knocked off balance, landing in one of the puddles you had been trying to avoid in the beginning.

Your eyes sting as you try to keep yourself from crying, repeating that this is the last time you’ll ever have to make a starbucks run for the annoying photographer, and with a breath, you step back into the shop and order his drink that will most certainly be late.

By the time you get back to set, the place is in complete chaos. Your arm is red as you quietly place the cup on the photographers table, and he doesn’t even bother looking at you as he reaches for it and takes a sip. You could nearly drop from the shock of not being screamed at, and before you give him the opportunity to change his mind, you disappear into the staff room to grab a bag of ice. They were kept in the freezer premade in case someone accidentally touched one of the lights, but you’ve seen more than one person use them to treat the very same injury you’re suffering from.

You assume everyone’s in a panic because of the rain and don’t bother offering any help as you head towards a part of the building only a few individuals know of, and you’ve just seen all of them on set, which means you’d have the small area to yourself. There were seats from part of a car prop left behind from a past shoot, and it’s come in handy more than once when you want to escape from the suffocating environment. Someone had even set up a small canopy when the rain had started, and you don’t notice the other person occupying one of the seats until you slip underneath it.

“Oh,” you blurt, and Na Jaemin peers up at you in surprise. “Aren’t you supposed to be-”

“Yes, but I just.. need a moment.”

You nod, flopping down in the seat farthest away and wince when you press the ice bag against your arm. “Fine by me.”

“Shouldn’t you tell me to go back inside?”

“Nah,” you shrug. “It’s my last day here, so I don’t really care. And watching the photographer sweat over a missing model is one of my favorite things in the world when it’s not me he’s yelling at.”

His brows raise in confusion, because he was so sure you were about to rat him out for hiding. He can’t remember how many times that’s happened, and him being dragged back by one of his guards. Jaemin is exhausted, and this is the longest he’s had to rest all week from the back to back scheduling.

“What happened to you?” Jaemin decides on asking, turning in the ratty set prop his agent would most likely yell at him for sitting on in the clothes he’s wearing.

“This idiot slammed into me while I was holding a hot coffee, and instead of saying sorry, he left, and then I fell into a puddle,” Jaemin tries to suppress his laugh, but it slips out and he bites his lip when you lean against the seat with a defeated sigh. “Go ahead; you can laugh. It’s not like you’ll remember this tomorrow, right?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re, like, the most famous 20 year old right now; at this time tomorrow, you’ll probably be going over some script for a future movie you’ll star in, and make tons of money, with no memory of this fleeting conversation,” you say longingly, and when he doesn’t reply, you tilt your head towards him and he quickly looks away from staring.

“I guess you’re right..” he mumbles.

“Besides, my own boss can’t remember who I am. Just this morning, he asked for my name as if we haven’t been seeing each other almost every week of this month.”

“You know what’s worse? This one time at an event, they almost didn’t let me in because they didn’t know who I was.”

You squint at him skeptically. “And? That’s happened to plenty of people.”

“But it was my event. My face was literally on the banner above our heads,” he says, and you snort.

“That’s rough, but you know what sucks on top of my boss not remembering who I am? Having him throw things at you all the while calling you someone else’s name, and ending up with a bruise in the shape of a square because he managed to hit you with a prop.”

“You know what’s worse, though?” Jaemin grins, not noticing the way he’s leaning in closer as he starts telling you the story of how he was accidentally locked inside his trailer for hours, missing another extravagant party thrown in his honor because he had left his phone in the car. You roll your eyes when he gets to the part when he had to smash one of the windows to get free, and he might’ve been exaggerating a bit just to see your reaction, but it’s worth the small chuckle you try to hide. “What’s your name?”

“Did we not just have a whole discussion on how you would forget me by tomorrow? Or, I bet, by the time this shoot is over, you’ll be like, “who?” when they ask who you were hiding with,” you muse, and Jaemin is silent for a moment before reaching into his pocket and groans when he doesn’t feel his phone.

“They kind of took my phone when I arrived, otherwise I would’ve asked for your number.”

“Oh my god, did Na Jaemin just ask for my number? The Na Jaemin?”

“Please, why don’t you say that any louder?” Jaemin is quick to reach out and cover mouth when you take a deep breath. “I was kidding!”

You knock his hand away with smug grin. “Right.”

“I wasn’t kidding about wanting your number, though,” he says so sweetly you blink a few times to keep yourself from blushing, and suddenly you understand how he’s managed to win over everyone’s when meeting him.

You hesitate to pull out the small notebook you keep in your pocket, always having to have it within reach in case the photographer gets a sudden burst of inspiration and wants you to order multiple things for the next shoot. You scribble your number on the paper along with your name, and right as you hand it to him, you hear someone shriek his name and your head whips around.

“I have to go, but I’ll text you,Y.n,” he sends you a final dazzling smile and runs back to set, and you’re left with your heart racing in your ears.

#jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin x you #jaemin x reader #nct #nct x reader #nct x you #nct imagines #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream imagine #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenario #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #my writing

[sofhyuck]

Terrace House!AU Winwin

Genre: fluff, bullet point scenario, veeeery brief mention of sexual harassment 

Word Count: 1.9k so close to 2k i swear

A/N please read the introduction first!!

am i doing this in any particular order?

absolutely not lmao

anyways for this au let’s pretend uhhh you’re a famous Instagram/social media personality (idfk) and you’ve done multiple collab videos with other idols such as Amber and Jae so you’re fairly well known in the kpop sphere

and lil baby sicheng won’t ever dare to admit it bc he will be teased relentlessly has a tiny lil crush on you

tiny little as in he has a secret insta just to follow you so he can keep updated since sm doesn’t let them even dream of having their own accounts

anywayssssss

you’re running a tiny lil bit late because you just came from a business meeting oversees and the airport lost your luggage and it was a whole mess so now you’re tired and aggravated from fighting with the airport staff and you’re terrified of making a bad first impression

luckily you managed to gather all of your suitcases and traffic isn’t bad so you’ll be able to make it for dinner 

but that doesn’t ease the anxiety of meeting five new people that you’ll be living with for the next few months

the driver pulls up to the house and you thank him and lowkey you’re shaking a little but it’s fiiinehaha

the door opens before you even ring the doorbell bc everyone was waiting for you and a woman in her late twenties with a kind smile pokes her head out

“finally you’re here! we were beginning to think you weren’t going to show”

and you just blush and stutter out an apology but she just shushes you and ushers you inside, yelling out for someone to bring your luggage into your room

there’s barely time to take in your surroundings before you’re dragged into the living room were most of the house was gathered only to be met by a soft gasp

poor sicheng is red bc yea he just gasped when he saw you how embarrassing can you get poor kid

lucky for him you couldn’t figure out where the gasp came from so he’s safe for now although one of his roommates can already tell sicheng is in love with you ooooh boy

you quickly introduce yourself, the younger members already knowing who you were, excitement clear on their faces sicheng literally bouta hop out of his seat cute bubby

and everyone introduces themself and when it gets to sicheng you just cut him off with a giggle like “i know who you are”

and he is sh00k bc wow you know who he is what is life and your giggle was so cute wtf of course she knows who you are sicheng

meanwhile you’re like wow he’s even cuter in person this is why all of nct is fucking wh i p ped for him

the woman who met you at the door has already dubbed all of you as her children and a man around her age is your dad she’s an unashamed queen and you all love her

but it’s getting late so you all retire to your respective rooms but the fun doesn’t end there for you ladies oh no

mama wants to gossip she seent the way sicheng gazed at you heart eyes and all what am i even saying anymore idk i’m watching jeffree star and shane dawson while writing this oops back on tracknow

so she sits you and your other roommate down and is just like...spill the tea girls who’s cute who’s not past relationships i want everything go!

and they both look at you bc they know you and sicheng already have a lil somethin going on

so you’re like yea obvi i think he’s cute i mean look at him

but they just look at you like mmhmm sure that’s all

so you sigh and just sort of...spill it all out talking about how you never really have the chance to date since you’re kind of in the limelight now and the possibility of being caught up in a controversy is hella high

so yea you’re a little wary about flat out stating you might have a crush on an internationally worshiped idol

and your roommates just nod in understanding and then you switch topics, talking until three in the morning and you’re about to pass out

meanwhile in the boys room... *insert cool visual transition* 

sicheng was being teased to hell and back before he finally has to be like...yea i think she’s cute but i don’t really want to say more for risk of her getting swept up in some controversy she doesn’t deserve that wow we stan a gentleman

so now there’s this mutual understanding within the house to not push the idea of you and sicheng too hard

even the producers are in on it bc they don’t want their show getting a bad rep either

but it’s still inevitable you guys hang out, i mean, you’re living in the same house and there is an obvious attraction between you two

now sicheng’s in a bit of a lull right now, his comeback just wrapped up and he’s not doing anymore promotional activities so he’s resting a bit and he’s getting a lil bored just hanging at the house

meanwhile you’re doing a mini series where you go around to different attractions and just live the tourist life you’ve never been able to live before

for your next episode you’re going to everland and you’re like...why not invite people from the house??? bc it’ll be boring to go by yourself

so you invite everyone and that’s how you all end up at an amusement park running around like children

your manager supplied the group with three mini cameras so that you can break up into groups and obvi mom and dad pair up and the other roommates want you and sicheng to be able to spend time together

so you all get your cameras and split up on your own to wreak havoc have fun!!

does sicheng like rollercoasters??? idk but lets say he does and you don’t mind them either as long as they don’t go upside down and the line isn’t long yes this was me at everland i went on two rides rip

but there’s a problem...putting two well known celebrities together in a highly populated area is uhhhh not the best idea

you get in line for a ride, having a nice conversation about your lives when a group of giggling girls join the line behind you

giggles quickly turn into squeals as they spot sicheng and you don’t really know what to do bc you’ve never had to deal with fangirls before, especially not this close

and while you know that fans are generally nice...you’re still hyper aware that some are...not so nice

and one of the girls in the group is not looking at you too kindly while sicheng offers to take pictures with them 

you’re more than happy to take the pictures for them until one girl practically throws her phone at you and grabs sicheng’s arm

now you’re obviously glaring at her while she strokes his arm, oblivious to how uncomfortable he is

when her hand begins to travel, ahem, a little lower you snap

the producers weren’t even saying anything while sicheng is literally being groped????

you shove her phone into her hand and grab sicheng’s hand before sprinting away from the girls and the cameras, finally stopping in an almost empty area of the park

in your rush you left your personal camera by the roller coaster, leaving you and sicheng completely alone and camera free for the first time in months

you both take a moment to catch your breath, settling down on a bench

sicheng breaks the silence by wrapping his arms around you and letting out a few shaky breaths

it took you a few moments to realize he was crying

the two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, letting him cry all his tears out

eventually his breaths evened out and he removed himself from your shoulder 

“thank you for that” he sniffled “i was so scared and i didn’t know what to do there were so many people and cameras and everything was happening at once-”

you quietly shushed him, wiping away stray tears from his cheek

“it’s ok sicheng, that shouldn’t have happened. no one has the right to touch someone else like that without consent and the crew shouldn’t have just done nothing, to be honest i’m really mad right now and i don’t want to go back there where every single move we make will be recorded. let’s just...stay her for awhile”

and you two do

you talk about anything and everything ranging from your favorite color to the pressures of living in the limelight

you finally get the opportunity to talk how you’ve wanted to for the past few months but haven’t been able to because of all the cameras constantly surrounding you

and you guys texted the house groupchat so they all know where you are but they don’t tell the cameramen bless their souls

finally it’s time for you all to meet at the front gate and you both get an ear full from the producers

but oh ho your manager knows what happens so before the producers can finish he goes o f f on them bc they handled the situation incredibly unprofessionally 

despite your ability to avoid cameras, word about the whole incident spread rather quickly and, well, nctzens fucking loved you lol

so from then on, you and sicheng didn’t really care about being close on camera

plus fans had been shipping you since the show had first aired and your ship name was trending for almost two days when news of the incident first broke

yuta and taeil had even face timed sicheng to tell you they fully approved of your relationship

speaking of relationships

you and sicheng had gone on multiple dates that totally weren’t dates but also totally were

so you guys were basically dating without either of you having actually asked the other out

you’re just happily living loving each other while the entire production crew, cast, nctzens, and all of nct are like 

p l s just make it official we’re all dy i ng

after the show you guys still hang out like all the time his dorm is basically your second home

and one day you two are sat cuddling in his room, rewatching your show and reminiscing about the good old times it’s been a month calm down there kids

until you notice him staring at you so you look over at him and you both just stare at each other for a minute and then he just leans down and pecks your lips

and you both just smile until you speak up

“so...dong sicheng...will you be my boyfriend”

he pouts because “i was supposed to ask you first”

“well maybe if you didn’t take so long i wouldn’t have had to make the first move!”

“i’m the one who kissed you though!”

you two continue your banter until he kisses you again, effectively shutting you up

the rest of the day is spent cuddling and kissing, briefly interrupted by yuta walking into the room only to tear up and leave the room

to this day he refuses to tell you if it was due to his happiness or jealousy

Masterlist

#again idk how to end these things oh well #i did this all in one sitting i haven't even had lunch yet pls make this wort it #winwin #winwin imagine #winwin scenario #winwin au #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct au #nct fluff #winwin fluff #dong sicheng #sicheng

[el-and-hop]

When Autumn Leaves

Chapter 1: There’s A Lot of Hurt

[ao3] [prologue]

Pairing: Mileven AU

WC: 5.1k

Summary: The new kid in Hawkins is making El’s life miserable.

[A/N]: A Mileven AU. This is chapter 1 of probably many. I have no idea what I’m doing. 

It was cold in early October. Indiana was bracing for another brutal, lifeless winter.

A young girl, no older than thirteen, sat alone on the front steps of her porch, counting each school bus as it passed by. It was Monday morning, and her friend was supposed to be here. Twelve minutes ago. She could feel her breath getting warmer and her fingers digging into her knees.

Slowly rocking back and forth, she began to scan her surroundings. It was a technique her father taught her whenever she felt another attack creeping its way in.

The front porch was normal. White railings, brown floorboards, a swing on one corner with worn, faded yellow seat cushions on one side and bare metal on the other. It sat in the corner, and, on the opposite side of the porch, sat two wooden chairs, mismatched and slightly rotting with a small coffee table resting between them.

It was used more as a footrest than a coffee holder, but the name explains the stains of circles that surround the edge close to the larger of the two chairs. You wouldn’t guess that it had seen death and heartache and love and warmth, not at least by how it looked. Any other resident of Hawkins would laugh at the table, but they weren’t the one using it, now were they?

The warm hue of the floorboards on the porch mixed and, when the sun was right, matched with the two pumpkins that sat on the edge of the stairs to the heavy wooden front door. Neither were carved, yet, out of fear of rotting, so they sat idly there. It would be a week before halloween when they were cut open, their innards spooned out, and their faces sawed on. But today, they sat without care for tomorrow.

The only thing that held on to the traditional aesthetic of Hawkins was the yellowish glow of the tin lamp as it swayed above the doorbell. Back in 1860, the original owner had improperly installed a gas lighting system, and before he could turn off the hose the house was gone and his life destroyed. The structure of the house, of course, was rebuilt, the gas lamp now replaced with electric and fancy wire filaments.

“El?”

A small, slightly cracking voice called out and pulled El to the present. A boy, even smaller than his voice, had knelt down in front of her without her noticing. She could feel her chest moving in and out as the cold air dried her throat. The boy grabbed hold of her hands, removing their tight grip on her fingers had on her knees.

“You’re twelve minutes and fifty four seconds late, Will,” the girl whispered with more air than words. She stared at his eyes and studied their dark canyons.

“Jonathan’s car wasn’t starting so I had to bike here,” Will began, still kneeling before El. “You’re just having another panic attack.”

“That boy across the street,” El said, motioning to the house on the other side, “the one that I was telling you about? The one that moved in on Saturday? I think he’s going to school with us.”

“Well,” Will laughed, standing up, “we better get there before he does so you can keep stalking him.”

El stood up, grabbed the backpack that was resting beside her, and threw it at Will. Rather than hit him, though, it landed in the grass beside him.

“Hey, I’m not the one that wrote ‘he’s cute’ in your journal,” Will scoffed, mounting his bike.

“You’ll be head over heels for him too.”

Will rolled his eyes at her, and motioned for her to come along.

El, sighing, reached under the porch and pulled out her own bike.

In silence she mounted and rolled down the driveway, meeting Will at the end, and, like clockwork, they were off, only set to be a few minutes behind schedule.

The hallways were more crowded than normal, as the heavier winter coats had made their appearance earlier than expected. The groups of students huddled together and formed small circles to bring their body temperatures up from the brutal chill that was lingering outside.

El struggled to made her way down to her locker through the seemingly endless wave of knit hats and leg warmers. She was never one for heavy winter wear. More or less she loved layers, jeans with flannels, multiple jackets, gloves on gloves; anything that kept her from looking like a puffy version of the carpet floor at the arcade.

And since there were so many students in the halls, she cursed the fact that her locker was at the other end of the building from the main entrance. Slipping and sliding through the crowd after what felt like five minutes for a thirty second walk, she appeared at a clearing, right at her locker.

It was a sad locker. Her friend Max got lucky this year and was awarded a top locker, making her a queen amongst her peasant friends. El’s locker was at the bottom, a corner bottom, right next to the bathroom door. And the locker squeaked. Loud. She also had an “illegal” unlocking mechanism (a stack of small Post-it Notes stuck in the door) that kept her locker from doing the one thing its name implied while appearing to be 100% normal. It was the simple things that make life so much easier.

And normally she was in and out quickly.

But this day there was an issue.

The normally unoccupied locker above hers was currently occupied. And shit. It’s her neighbor.

He’s just as bundled up as everyone else in the hall: heavy coat, jeans, brown church shoes?, a striped polo tucked in, and dark brown hair that was fighting some kind of invisible straightening iron. He was holding a small slip of paper in his left hand, and with his right hand he was frantically spinning the lock to try and get it open. It’s not working.

El had two options, neither were ideal.

The first: forget her locker, avoid interaction, turn around, and make due for the first four periods until lunch when she could switch out her books.

The second: Help the poor boy.

But by some higher power right as El starts to flip an invisible coin in her head the boy with the frantic hair whips his locker open and all of the tense muscles in El’s body relax.

Realizing that she’d been staring at him, she pulls off her backpack a few lockers down and starts to fiddle with the notebooks inside. Don’t let him see me. Don’t let him see me.

But like wind he was gone without notice. And El took that as a green light to throw open her locker, shove in whatever looked important for the morning, knock the locker closed with her elbow, and sprint down the hall to first period.

History was first. It was a pointless class if El could be completely honest. She spent most of it doing her homework for Math (second period) and writing in her journal, which, luckily, looked close enough to notes that the teacher, Mr. Harold, didn’t bother her.

Sitting herself down in her unassigned signed seating, El slumped and didn’t feel like taking anything out of her bag. It was that kind of day.

“Wake up sleepy eyes,” came a voice from El’s left side. She turned her head and saw a redhead girl who still had her coat fully zipped. She already had her textbook and notebook on her desk and was clearly more awake than El was.

El sat up, stretched out her arms in front of her, and then reached down into her bag to pull out her journal. Something was off. The classroom was too quiet. El looked to her left and noticed that the chair that was normally occupied was empty and cold.

It was Dustin’s seat. And it had been for the last month and a half. El, Max, and Dustin sat together first period, second row, so that they weren’t the first prey of their slowly dying teacher. El could swear that the old man in the front of the room couldn’t see past the first row of desks. And that made life so much easier.

“Max,” El whispered to the girl sitting next to her. “Where’s Dustin?”

“I don’t know,” Max replied. “I just assumed he was with you.”

“Quiet, Mayfield,” the Mr. Harold said with just enough force to make El wonder if he was going to give himself a heart attack. Max rolled her eyes and open up her notebook to a fresh page.

El and Max were friends. No, they were sisters. With El living with her adoptive father and Max stuck with her abusive step-father, shitty step-brother, and aloof mother, they turned to each other for everything. Not that El didn’t have a great home. She had a father that loved her. And she had Max. On too many occasions did Max spend the night at El’s house. Enough times that Max has a permanent room there. They weren’t biological sisters, so the fact that they act like it makes their bond something so much stronger.

And that’s why, when a dark brown haired mess of a child bursted through the door disrupting the Mr. Harold mid sentence and caused the entire class to glare at the him, the first thing El thought about was if Max was going to notice who this boy really was.

El felt the sides of her face begin to heat up, so full of second hand embarrassment that she felt like she was going to start looking like a tomato. And if Max were to catch on, El would never hear the end of it.

“Wheeler, correct?” Mr. Harold lowered his glasses and peered above them, taking in the frazzled boy. “Michael Wheeler?”

Michael, as Mr. Harold called him, stood in the front of the room. His hands were shaking, a bit of sweat collecting on his forehead, and he was breathing heavily enough that El could surmise that he probably sprinted down the hall trying to find the classroom.

“Well,” Mr. Harold said with sarcastic tone, “take a seat next to Eleanore. She’ll get you up to speed.”

El felt her heart crawl up into her throat. His name is Michael? She hated to admit it, but she almost felt sorry for that. First the house across the street, then the locker, and now History class? She looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Class started at eight. It was ten past eight. El sighed.

As the boy made his way to the empty seat next to El, she pulled out her textbook from her backpack and set it down on her desk. Her backpack was about as neat as her locker. That is to say, it looked like a wastepaper basket. Crumpled papers, trash, and broken pencils were mindlessly tossed inside.

El placed her textbook on his desk and smiled.

“Here,” she said, with a soft whisper, “we’re on page one hundred and ten. Chapter quizzes are on Fridays. Homework is written on the board for the next day.”

El watched as the mess next to her began flipping through to the correct page. His writing, she noticed, as he opened up his notebook, was pure chicken scratch.

Once everything seemed to calm down and Mr. Harold’s monotonous voice began to linger in the air like the hum of a fan, El started to drift off. And she got a few seconds of bliss before the classroom door creaked open again.

“Henderson! You’re twenty minutes late,” Mr. Harold mocked, as he stood in front of the chalkboard. “Late note or detention: which will it be?”

El did everything she could to avoid eye contact with Dustin as he stood in the front of the class, searching through his pockets for what El could assume to be his note.

“Here,” Dustin said with a smile, handing the teacher a crumpled piece of yellow paper.

Mr. Harold’s face went from tense to nothing short of defeated. He ran detention, and getting to make students miserable was his favorite thing to do.

Dustin turned to go to his normal seat next to El, but was greeted with a stare from Michael.

If it could be described in any way, El would probably have to say that it was like one of those show downs on the old western movies that she would watch that came on before her favorite soap operas. The two boys locked eyes, neither blinking, for one second that felt like minutes. Part of El wanted to nudge the poor soul next to her, get him to move for a day, explain to him that while, yes, it is unassigned seating, it’s an unspoken rule that if you sit there your first day you don’t change it and you came in and took Dustin’s seat, what did you expect?

“Take your seat, Henderson,” Mr. Harold said, with more disdain than before.

Dustin looked around the room before catching sight of one open chair, in the center of the front row. He took a deep breath and sighed. El watched as he sat down and mindlessly through his bag on the ground and sat hunched over with his head down on the desk.

“Henderson, I don’t care what was going on before class, get your head up and pay attention.”

Dustin didn’t move.

Mr. Harold crossed his arms and stood in silence for a moment, waiting for Dustin to listen. Dustin didn’t.

“That’s it,” Mr. Harold said as he walked over to his desk and pulled out a packet of pink paper. “Detention. After school.”

All El heard from Dustin was a groan. She looked over to Max, who was just as surprised as El expected her to be. El then turned around to her right to see Michael, with his head in the textbook.

El looked down at her open journal in front of her. She had only written the date. Frustrated, she closed it with a bit too much force. Placing her head on her hand and her elbow on the desk, El turned to stare at the clock. She counted along with it, each second as the minute hand slowly moved from number to number

When the bell rang at the end of class, El packed up her journal and hightailed it out. Math was next, all the way at the other end of the building, and she really wasn’t in the mood to be late today. She heard her name called, but chose to ignore it. She really wasn’t up to it today.

Math came and went, since none of her friends were in the class with her.  Dustin was in Science, but since it was a lab day, El wasn’t able to explain the situation to him.

It was finally lunch.

The one time of the day when El and all of her friends were together. It wasn’t freedom, but it was as close as it could be.

By the time El made it through the lunch line and had a plate full of french fries and assorted vegetables, she saw her friends already grouped together at their normal table.

“I’m telling you, Iron Man would defeat Batman in seconds. Think about the technology he’s working with. Fists are no match for guns!”

El saw Lucas nearly standing up in his chair across from Will, using a french fry as pointer. Lucas was dating but not really dating Max. But Lucas was El’s friend long before Max made her way into Hawkins. Lucas lived just a few houses down from El. They practically grew up together. So you can see the bind El was in when Lucas and Max started not really dating but dating.

Will, on the other hand, joined the party in first grade. He lives farther out of the town, but that doesn’t stop him from being with everyone whenever he gets the chance. While Lucas was loud, Will was the quiet giant. Smarter than hell, which is why he and El don’t have classes together, and kinder than a puppy.

“Just because Batman doesn’t kill that doesn’t mean he’s any less powerful than a man who is nothing without his suit!” Dustin was walking a line between calm and livid. The spilled milk, El guessed, came as a result of Dustin’s expressive arm movements.

“Max,” Will butted in, “if Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark were to fight with no weapons or gadgets, who would win?”

El took a seat at the edge of the table next to Max and Lucas and across from Dustin and Will. Dustin seemed like he wasn’t too worked up about what had happened before, and El was grateful for that. As long as the topic didn’t come up, he rest of the day could go on as planned.

“I don’t think it’s much of a contest,” Max replied simply, acting as though there wasn’t weight resting on her response. “If we’re talking no weapons, Tony vs Bruce, Bruce wins.”

“See! I told you...” Dustin yelled as he threw his hands in the air, only to see Max put her hands out as a sign that she wasn’t done talking.

“But,” Max said softly, “If it’s Iron Man vs Batman, Iron Man wins.”

“Max!” Will rolled his eyes and sighed, obviously not content with her answer. “You never solve anything. You’re as non-confrontational as El!”

El felt a shift in the air at Will’s remark. It was true, she wasn’t one for confrontation and rarely did she go on the attack. It made life as the police chief’s daughter easy.

“Speaking of El and confrontation,” Dustin said, casually pushing ketchup around his plate with a half eaten french fry, “who’s the new kid in History?”

El directed her glance down to the fruit on her plate. Maybe if I show that I don’t want to talk about it he’ll recognize that and let it be?

“The one with the messy hair?” Max smiled as she recalled the disheveled boy from class. “What’s his name?”

“Michael,” El responds, still fiddling with her uneaten lunch.

“Well,” Dustin remarks pointedly, “tell Michael that he has to find a new seat because I’ve been there since the first day.”

“He took your seat?” Lucas looked at Dustin and raised his eyebrows.

“And I got a detention because Harold is sadistic!” Dustin was shouting again. “All I did was put my head down, which I do every class, and he just yelled! If I had been in the second row he wouldn’t see me but since Michael took my seat I had to sit in the front and Harold hates people who sit in the front and don’t pay attention.”

“Dustin,” Lucas said sympathetically, “don’t you think you’re over reacting?”

“I’m not overreacting!” Dustin was, in fact, overreacting.

El had been quiet for most of the discussion. And with reason. Sure, the argument wasn’t about her, but it directly involved her. So it was, to her, the same thing. El noticed that Will had been avoiding his food in exchange for silent contemplation.

“Hold on,” Will spoke up, “new kid, messy brown hair…”

El shot will a glare at Will that screamed if you say one more word I will murder you. Before Will could even break a smile a forced cough came from behind El.

“Um,” El heard, and, turning around, she saw none other than the topic of conversation. El chose to ignore Dustin’s offhand comment that came under his breath loud enough to be heard but quiet enough that it was for the party and not the new kid.

“I just wanted to give you your textbook back,” Michael said with a shaky voice. He held out El’s textbook in front of him.

“I have a copy at home,” El said with a smile. “You keep it.”

It was true, El did have multiple copies of her major textbooks, even for History. It was a method she used to avoid forgetting her books at school and then having panic attacks at home when she couldn’t complete her homework because she left her book at school. After the third time her father had to call the principal at night to open the doors, El thought it was best to have an extra copy, just in case.

“Oh,” Michael reponsed. “Thanks.” He turned and made his way out of the lunch room, practically sprinting.

No one at the table spoke up, rather, they each turned to their food and basked in the quiet conversation. El felt like some kind of bubble in her stomach. She was a internalizing fumes of anger and a mix of empathy and sympathy for Michael. And without thought she converted that feeling into words without hesitation.

“You don’t have to be mean to him,” El said, focusing on her hands. She was picking at her fingernails unconsciously. “He seems really nice and you’re not giving him a chance.”

Lucas and Max looked at each other and then over to Dustin, who was still moving around the leftover food on his plate. Will was quiet and had his head down.

“We have to start working with Mr. Clarke after school today for the Science Fair project. I’m going to invite him and you could apologize to him.” Even though El wasn’t looking directly at Dustin, the sharp words were quite clear.

“Sure, whatever you want,” Dustin said as he rolled his eyes.

“Please don’t talk to me like that,” El responded quickly, pulling her hands up from under the table to get her plate. Her left thumb was covered in blood, pooling from the edge of her nail. She grabbed what was left of her lunch and, with her backpack in tow, left the table with little intent to hear his apology.

El sat through English, usually her favorite subject, and didn’t participate. Rather than take notes on poetry and something about symbolism, El drew lines in her notebook. At first they were short, vertical parallel  lines in the corner of the page. Then they went diagonal. Lines started crossing each other. They were heavy lines, soft lines, lines on top of lines. And by the end of the period, the entire top of her page was colored in. Lucas and Max, who were also in class, gave El her space. She appreciated that.

The last period of the day was study hall. A blessing from the school guidance counselor, who made sure El got to choose her schedule. Having the last period off made the day shorter and, occasionally, allowed for more planning for after school activities.

El had study hall alone, which was why she got most of her homework done there, when she wanted to. After the day that she had, El was ready to use this free period for what most students used it for: sleep.

As she opened the door to the English classroom that served as the study hall room, El was greeted by Ms. Bell. Ms. Bell was the closest thing El had to a mother. She was kind and understanding, more so than any teacher El previously had. She came to her when she was having issues with her friends, with other teachers, even when she was having issues that her friends didn’t even know about.

And El loved her because she let her sleep.

But as El turned from the door to settle into her usual seat in the middle of the room, Michael was sitting a few rows back. Just my luck.

El took in a deep breath and quietly walked through the rows of desks to her normal seat. Focusing in on her chair rather than risk the chance of looking at Michael and locking eyes, El overlooked the backpack that was resting on the floor and, with an ungraceful fall, tripped and hit the ground nose first.

It happened so fast that she didn’t have time to react. Lying on the floor El felt her nose become warm and placed a finger under her nose. It was red.

In the moment that El had seen her finger Michael had rushed over and got down on his knees. He pulled a packet of tissues out from his pocket and handed them to El.

“Here,” Michael laughed. “You’re gonna need these.”

El sat up and reached for the tissues. She carefully pulled one out and stuffed it in her nose. She took another and wiped the spot of blood that was on the floor.

The pain in her nose was petty compared to the acid that was eating away the walls in her stomach. She felt like she was in shock, as if the thought that everyone was thinking about her made her freeze.

“Michael,” Ms. Bell said calmly, “take El down to the nurse.”

“I can do it myself,” El said with a nasally tone. As she stood up she had to grab hold of the nearest desk, her feet loose under her weight.

“Yea,” Ms Bell chuckled, “that’s not happening. I’m going to call the nurse and tell her to expect two people.”

El started to make her way to the door and went to open it but was cut off by Michael. This boy is going to be the death of me I swear.

“You don’t have to do this, Michael,” El said, keeping her eyes on her feet to avoid another fall.

“Please, call me Mike. Only my parents call me Michael.” El looked up and noticed that his hands were shaking. “And I don’t think that you have much of a choice with the state you’re in.”

“I’m sorry to put you through this,” El said softly. Mike. It fits him more than Michael.

“No, it’s fine. I wanted to move around a bit. I’m not very good at sitting down for a long time.” Mike let out a short laugh, and El had to stop herself from smiling. It hurt her nose too much.

Normally El liked the silence. It was never awkward for her. But walking next to the boy that she had been wondering about for the last few days, El felt like there was nothing to do but get to know him.

“You’re new here,” El said simply. It was more of a question but it sounded more like an accusation. Mike smiled and scratched behind his ear.

“Yea, good guess,” Mike joked. “I’m from Chicago but my parents thought it would be a nice change to leave the city and come out to a quieter place. I can’t really argue with them.”

“I was born in Chicago,” El said, starting to pick her thumb again. “But my dad moved us out here. We live on Windsor street.”

“I live on Windsor street too! Wouldn’t it be funny if we were neighbors?” Mike continued to smile and laugh slightly. El noticed that his hands were starting to shake again. Would this be the right time to tell him that you’ve been watching him from your window for the last few days?

“I’m sorry about how my friends are,” El said, turning to face Mike. He was counting the numbers above the doors. “They’re not very good with letting people in. Especially Dustin. When his dad left we got a lot of the anger.”

Mike only nodded and continued to walk side by side with El.

When they arrived at the nurses office, it was quiet as usual. El was friends with the nurse, as with most of the teachers. She was quiet, kept out of trouble, and was kind. That’s all the teachers needed.

“Another nosebleed, Eleanore?” The nurse asked as she rummaged through the medicine closet.

“She tripped and fell,” Mike answered before El could respond.

“Oh dear,” the nurse said as she turned to see El’s face. El’s nose was stuffed with red tissues in both nostrils. The nurse pinched El’s nose and El took in a sharp breath. “I think you may have broken your nose, sweetie. Sit down and I’ll put a splint on it until you go see a doctor.”

El followed the nurses orders and sat herself on the cold metal table that was for the sick children. Mike sat down next to her and smiled when El tilted her head back so she could take out the two tissues.

“This isn’t funny,” El said as she slowly pulled the tissues out.

“This is going to hurt,” the nurse said, gently placing a cloth on top of the bridge of El’s nose.

It came like a paper cut, a quick, but immensely sharp pain that was nothing like what El felt when she fell. She closed her eyes and reached her left hand out and grabbed hold of the closest thing possible to squeeze away some of the pressure.

It wasn’t until she opened her eyes again that she realized that she had grabbed Mike’s hand and nearly broken that too. Coming to her senses, El quickly let go and placed her hand in her lap. Mike left his in between them. His hand was soft and warm, almost like her own. It wasn’t an old hand but something sweeter.

“I’m going to go and get some ice. Don’t fall again, you hear me?” The nurse chuckled at her own joke, which wasn’t even a joke in the first place. She quietly made her way out of the office and left El and Mike alone.

El wouldn’t call it electricity. She felt excited. Her heart was racing and it must have been the adrenaline because she couldn’t feel the pain that had previously rendered her nose useless. But there was something in the way that Mike sat there. He was quiet, yes, but he was respectful. It was as if he knew she liked the silence too.

El started to pick at her fingernails again, this time stopping right as the nurse returned.

After a few words exchanged about not touching it and getting to a doctor soon, the nurse sent them on their way, although there was little time left before the final bell.

In the hallway, Mike waited as El slowly made her way out the door.

“Thanks,” El said with a smile. She looked at his eyes. She never realized how tall he was, seemingly towering over her.

“No problem,” Mike replied. He kept his hands in his pockets, and El could see that his hands were shaking.

“We have this science fair project that we’re working on in a half hour. You should come and meet everyone.” El looked at him and raised her eyebrows. She studied his eyes, dark brown circles that were deeper than she’d ever seen before.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Mike said, his hands now shaking more than before.

“Mr. Clarke’s room. Three thirty.” El turned and walked away, not worrying about the hesitation in Mike’s voice.

He was coming. She knew it. Maybe he wasn’t going to be the death of her after all.

taglist: @fatechica @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold @earlgreyteagirl @bitchin-promises

#Stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things fic #stranger things fan fiction #mileven #mike #el #mike wheeler #el hopper #eleven #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #will byers #max mayfield #ross writes #ross writes fic #wal #when autumn leaves #is this perfect? nope #but its chapter one what do you expect

[wishes-upon-dreams]

Rainy Day Nostalgia

Pairing: Touken / Tousaki (in later chapters)

Word Count: ~2,250 words

Summary: AU. “It rains and it pours but that’s the least of young Touka’s worries” [Glimpses into some of Touka and Kaneki’s rainy day memories.]

Note: My first touken fic in a few years, and I’m every bit as nervous as I was when I posted back then! This one is a fluffy fic I actually originally began ~ 2 years ago for rainy days touken fluff week but didn’t actually manage to finish. Also, this will probably be a multiple chapter fic but I haven’t completely planned it out yet. I hope you enjoy! :)

Can also be read on AO3 and FFN

Excerpt:

How much time has passed since they’ve been chased out of the place they once called home?

A few days?

A couple of weeks?

A month or even longer?

She stares down at her dress, the one her father had worked so hard to patch up just days before he disappeared, dismayed to find it unrecognizable - all damp and tattered at the edges, not to mention covered with muddy splotches.

It rains and it pours but that’s the least of young Touka’s worries. 

It’s hard to be concerned about the state of the weather when one is living a life on the run. Other than being troubled by the chill, rainy evenings cease to matter. As do frigid snowy afternoons and sweltering sunny days.

It’s all meaningless when she and her brother are living aimlessly from one day to another, their only goal to survive.

How much time has passed since they’ve been chased out of the place they once called home?

A few days?

A couple of weeks?

A month or even longer?

She stares down at her dress, the one her father had worked so hard to patch up just days before he disappeared, dismayed to find it unrecognizable - all damp and tattered at the edges, not to mention covered with muddy splotches.

Normally she wouldn’t have cared, as an active child she had ripped and dirtied it multiple times, but now the very last thing she wanted to do was attract unwanted attention. She would have to clean it up before they left this temporary shelter.

A sneeze from the corner of the room interrupts the flow of her thoughts and she frowns as she makes her way towards her brother, the last precious family member she has remaining.

“Onee-chan, I’m tired and my legs hurt,” her younger sibling whines, head drooping low onto his chest as he slips in and out of sleep, and she tiptoes over to grab a table cloth (there are no blankets in the dingy abandoned residence they are currently lodging in) to keep him warm, sucking in a startled breath when he mumbles the words ”I want to go home.”

She tucks him in, burying her own turbulent feelings as she wraps her tiny arms around the sniffling boy and draws him into a tight hug. Then she waits until he falls asleep before she whispers, “Onee-chan does too”.

It’s not fair

The thought surfaces and lingers for a brief second or two before she wills it to disappear.

She would be as strong-minded as her mother whom she had loved so much.

She can’t falter.

She refuses to.

They only have each other now and she’ll do what she has to in order to protect him.

While he rests, she remains on the lookout, blowing on her hands and cupping her ears in an effort to retain some warmth. It’s at times like these that she used to nestle herself into her father’s side but now that he isn’t with them, she wishes there was proper heating to take away the chill.

Stuck with nothing to do but plan for the next few weeks, her thoughts soon turn to obtaining food. They had eaten just the other day but with the terrible weather outside - the raindrops trickling down the foggy window juxtaposed with the flashes of lightning and booming thunder are hard to miss - Touka has a hunch that there won’t be many people on the hunt for ghouls. As such, it doesn’t take her long to decide to search for some scraps of food. It’s a perfect opportunity and one that she doesn’t intend to pass up.

Besides, she surmises, even if I don’t find anything, at least I can say I tried.

With her mind made up, the minute Ayato awakens (in the early evening, and after the lightning has subsided), she dons an old raincoat (there’s a tiny tear on one arm but it’s not too noticeable) and pats him on the back.

“Ayato, stay here and I’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to quickly look for some food,” she explains without hesitation, opening up the door of their hideout and scanning the surroundings. She’ll have to be fast, even if there will be less people outdoors on such a stormy evening, she doesn’t really relish the idea of leaving him alone. “I don’t think anything will happen but ... it’s  always best to be prepared. If you hear any strange voices, you can peer through the curtains and if it’s an investigator then I want you to run as fast as you can to the meeting place we agreed upon. I’ll be sure to catch up.”

His grip on her arm tightens and she gently pushes him back down.

“Don’t worry about me.” She looks him square in the eyes, “We’ve been roaming a lot lately and although you tried to hide it from me, I noticed you’ve been coughing a lot and your feet are all scratched so I want you to rest up.”

“But what if-”

What if you don’t return?

She freezes, swallowing past the lump in her throat at his trembling tone and watery eyes, acknowledging his unspoken words.

“I’m not otou-san, Ayato.” She reassures him the best that she can.“I’ll be back for sure”

He reluctantly acquiesces, desperately blinking back tears, and she leaves after entrusting him with a fluffy toy bunny that she managed to salvage from their previous residence.

Onee-chan won’t take too long, and the bunny will protect you in my place, she silently promises, dashing through the back-alley, so please stay safe.

Several hours later (together with rotten luck hindering her attempts to procure food), she trudges back to their tiny hideout, checking their meeting spot on the way and quickly departing when she finds no sign of her little brother.

Along the path she passes by a playground.The lightning has vanished making her surroundings much harder to see but she jerks, her body tensing as it forms what she imagines to be a proper fighting stance when she hears a rustling noise.

Someone’s nearby, she thinks, darting behind a tree and willing her heart to stop racing.

There, through the whistling wind and smattering of rain, she counts to three and summons her courage before peeking around the trunk.

Illuminated by the street lamp headlights, her eyes land on a boy similar to her in age (and height), sitting under an umbrella on top of a dome painted like a whale, and she slumps back against the tree in relief, thankful that it’s not one of those scary people that have been hot on their trail.

Her fears abated, she tries to tip toe discretely away, but those plans are foiled when her foot descends a bit too heavily on a stray twig and there’s a sharp “crack” as it snaps cleanly in two. She raises her head, eyes wide and panicked, to find the boy staring in her direction.

What should I do? she wonders, fidgeting on the spot and cursing her own carelessness.

If only she had been more mindful or taken another path then she wouldn’t be in this situation. At the very least she is able to draw consolation from the fact that he too looks as startled as she feels.

He is the first to move, raising a hand to wave after a few instants of stationary silence, and that’s when she backs away, slipping and sliding on the wet leaves as she swivels, readying herself for a sprint.

“Please wait!” he cries out, and she chances a quick glance behind her just in time to see him tumble off the dome with an audible “oof”.

A moment passes, and then another and, while this is the perfect opportunity to make an escape (she doubts he’d be able to catch up to her with that clumsiness of his), her curiosity gets the better of her.

I shouldn't be doing this, she thinks as she approaches the fallen boy. It could be a trap.

Yet her feet continue to advance, plodding forward one step at a time.

Even though it had been a brief glimpse, his earlier posture had stuck with her. Maybe it’s the way he had looked so lonely curled up by himself, his faraway gaze locked on the sky above, something she had been guilty of doing a lot more recently, but her gut instinct tells her he doesn’t mean any harm.

A quick check and then I’ll leave.

She’s kneeling by his side before she realizes it.

"Are you okay?" she asks, scrutinizing the reddening scrapes forming on the center of his palm.

Everything about him touts that he's a human and based on what her father had told her, they don't heal as quickly as ghouls.

The boy nods, but she doesn’t believe him - not when he winces while trying to get up from the ground, his thumb and forefinger coming to brush the underside of his chin. Annoyed, and temporarily throwing caution to the wind (if she got out of this alive, she would have to keep this meeting with a human a secret from Ayato), she grabs his arm, leading him to the tiny space inside the dome sheltered from the rain.

"Thank you," he murmurs once they sit down, and she frowns. Wasn’t he in pain? " I’m sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to offer you this umbre-"

"Why?" she interrupts him, arms crossed and head tilted to the side.

Why was he helping someone he didn’t know? 

"I - I couldn’t help but notice that your jacket has a rip,“ he stammers out, his index finger awkwardly pointing at the material covering her right arm. “It might not be too noticeable but it wouldn’t be good if you caught a cold, would it?”

Was this what they called an idiot? Sure he was kind but he was definitely an idiot nonetheless. She was a stranger and, as of late, it was rare for others to offer her such generosity.

“You should worry about yourself more, instead of another kid like me,” she grumbles under her breath and when she doesn't make any move to take the umbrella from him, his smile falters. “You should get yourself treated or that cut on your hand will get infected.”

"It's alright, I live nearby and this jacket will be enough to protect me from the rain," he reassures her, and when she eyes him doubtfully after pointing out the heavy stream of rain droplets combining with the rapidly growing puddles, he adds, "I can run pretty fast too!"

Confident in her own racing abilities, Touka blinks as she tries, and fails, to hold back a laugh at his sudden proud enthusiastic declaration and upon hearing her giggles, he joins in with a laugh of his own too.

“Okay, fine, you win,” she manages to get out after calming down, traces of her prior amusement still detectable in her voice. It had been a while since she had genuinely laughed. This would probably be the only time they would meet in their entire lives but she would have to thank him for making her laugh and for the umbrella.

Struck with an idea of what to give him in return, Touka reaches into the pocket of her jacket, fumbling a bit in her search but grinning triumphantly when she finds what she’s looking for.

There you are!

She lifts her arm, a handkerchief in tow.

It’s only once she’s satisfied from the results of inspecting it to make sure it was in decent condition (unlike her clothing), and still clean from when she had washed it earlier that day, that she turns to him.

“It’s not much,” she mumbles, holding it out, “but give me your hand.”

He glances over startled but quickly follows her instructions when she tells him to “hurry up already!”

It’s her first time treating the wounds of someone outside her family but she works diligently, gripping his hand in her own. Unlike Ayato, he doesn’t complain about the pain but she tries to be as gentle as possible when she wipes at the scratches, careful in her attempts to remove the grains of sand from his open cuts.

“It’s only a temporary solution,” she warns him as she finishes, pressing the sheet against his palm and enclosing his fingers around it. “Keep this and clean it properly when you get home!”

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking touched at her actions, and she nods.

They rest for a while longer, until the unrelenting storm dwindles to a soft “pitter patter”. Then, with a wave and a farewell, she leaves with his umbrella and he, with her handkerchief.

The rain stops partway through her journey back and she finds herself unexpectedly smiling at the thought that the boy would have been saved from being drenched (waterproof jacket or not). She dashes the last stretch home, relieved when Ayato rushes to meet her the moment she calls out “I’m back”.

While she didn’t manage to get any food, it was, by no means, an uneventful outing.

Her thumb brushes over the words inked onto the handle.

Kaneki Ken

She doubted she was reading his name correctly, she could only vaguely remember what her father had once taught her after all, but she guessed it didn’t matter.

Both kind and funny, she was certain of one thing.

That boy sure was an odd one.

A short while later the ghoul investigators manage to suss out their whereabouts and they are forced to flee the ward.

Faced with a sudden unforgivable world filled with territory fights and struggles to survive, Touka soon wipes the memory of the boy and his small act of kindness from her mind.

Sometimes that first meeting is not always meant to be remembered.

#tokyo ghoul #kanetou #touken #kirishima touka #kaneki ken #kirishima ayato #kirishima family #AU #my writing #my fanfic