#but anyways the main advice is to just START!!! you can’t find your tone and artistry and perspective if you never give yourself time to tr

[wanderingblindly]

How did you learn to write so beautifully? Do you have any advice for people who are just getting into it? (You should genuinely write a book, it is crazy how good your works are!!!)

Oh god this may have been the most amazing ask to wake up to, I’m teary eyed 😭😭 I wish I had the attention span, patience, skill, or ideas for a novel, but I’m truly honored nonetheless 😭💖

In the realm of just general creative writing, this is some of the stuff I’ve said to my friends when they wanna start!!!!!

1. Start Small

It’s pretty easy to come up with some massive concept, or some grand universe you wanna write a million words about. And if that works for you as a first project:fuck it up; but I think building your creative muscle can be pretty overwhelming, so starting really small can eliminate some of that… anxiety? Decision paralysis?

If you have an idea, break it down into one specific scene. When you write that scene, don’t feel like you have to include everything! You can allude to character history, relationships, personalities, etc.. Just focus on plopping yourself into that specific scene, that specific moment, and build from there. Who’s talking to who? What can we, the author, imply based on the way they talk to each other, how closely they’re sitting/standing to one another, where they’re located?

2. Show Don’t Tell (but Balance it Out)

Obviously this is so basic, and most people have heard it since they were little. But sometimes, I’ve found, classic phrases you “should know” were never actually explained lol.

When you have an idea for a character trait, don’t just stop there; don’t just say “he’s happy” or “his love language is time spent together”. Ask yourself “if that’s true, what would it look like to someone?”.

As a personal example, in one of my recent drabbles (Late Nights), I wanted to convey that Oscar is someone who really prioritizes a sense of closeness, and feels most comfortable with the people he loves. Do to this, I had some base level “telling”, where Lando informed the reader that Oscar’s pretty strict about his evening routine — which established stakes for him showing up late at night. I followed this up by “showing” Oscar breaking that routine to take care of Lando — and promptly falling asleep after doing so. This lets the reader see that Oscar might feel most at home, most comfortable, with his person rather than in his home, alone. If that makes sense hahahahah

3. Let Yourself be Cliche

Just start writing!!! Pick your favorite trope, set a very small word count, and write a scene! Who cares if someone’s written it before, and who cares if someone’s “”””””””written it better”””””””!!!! It’s a free hobby!!!!! Do it!!!!! It’s yours!!!!!!

What’s important is that you’re writing it in your voice, or at least some evolution of your voice. Write what makes you happy and excited, not what you think people want to read. It’s easier to find your tone when you’re exploring an idea you actually like :)

4. Disrespect English (I Hate That Bitch)

Uhhh this is probably the most related to my personal writing and least… generally applicable. But I think part of what makes writing fun is that you get to hear the author, both how they think (or their character’s think) and how they talk.

I abuse the fuck out of the English language — I use dashes everywhere and for some reason always give lists in triplicates. But that’s also just!!! How I talk!!!! I talk with a lot of emphatic sentences and repetition. I talk with a lot of lists and flailing hand gestures.

I don’t think the quirks of how we speak are things we need to beat out of ourselves to write something “correct”. When it comes to creative writing, it stems from the lens through which you view the world — which includes how you personally talk!!! Think!!!!

To this end, read your fics out loud. Does it roll off the tongue? I like when it does :)

5. Consider the Other Senses

Sometimes I slip into the very “he did this. Then he did this. And then he, in response, did that.” vibe.

When I fall into that on accident, I force myself to take a step back and ask myself some questions. What is he feeling about it? Where is he feeling that emotion in his body? Has he felt it before, is it novel?

Sometimes, since I have no visual images, I find it helpful to consider other senses, things like taste, touch, smell, etc.. Are they smelling something that reminds them of childhood? Or can they smell something that makes their skin prickle — danger? Can they see rain on the horizon, and does it make them feel like something’s looming?

I guess I’m saying like… sometimes I step away from progressing the plot and start to wandering into what’s happening around them, and how they perceive it.

Which, upon reflection, is probably why I’m so awfully verbose and cannot shut up.

#god is this even what you wanted hahahahaha #I hope so #but anyways the main advice is to just START!!! you can’t find your tone and artistry and perspective if you never give yourself time to tr #writing.txt #ask me :)

[rubatosisr]

𖦹 synopsis. dating headcanons w the main four — how they treat you in a relationship.

disclaimers. none

note. first post !

butters stotch.

butters is truly a real sweetheart, but he is obviously and unfortunately very gullible at times.

cartman being the one whom sets up the whole thing.

he still gets grounded alot, but not as much. Yet his parents find reasons to still do it anyways.

Sweet boyfriend, friend, and person to be around overall.

definitely asks the guys on advice on how to approach you.

they ripped on him for his blooming crush on you obviously.

shocked when they found out that Butters managed to be bold and actually succeeded in asking you out.

when you guys had your first kiss he got so flustered and blushy, muttering “oh gee”s and such.

hand holding turned into cuddling, and then turned into kissing, and then all three became regular to almost everyday things.

good relationship, for the most part.

eric cartman.

oh my!

an interesting person to date, though it is surely an experience.

he’ll tone down the taunting and insults, he truly does like you after all.

It was shocking when you two got together, shocking. Especially to Kyle.

i mean, he could be really sweet. but he’s still cartman.

he actually get jealous pretty easily, hes also just a very controlling person, someone who wants things to be done his way, or to have authority over someone. he manipulates situations almost daily just because he doesn’t like how something turned out.

absolutely kept his crush on you a secret, but his friends eventually found out.

he can be somewhat sweet in very, very rare moments, even if he acts he absolutely hates it, still does it.

after your first kiss he was stunned for a moment.

he was surprised at himself, but said his small and weak goodbyes and went home.

he enjoyed it though, even if it was just a quick peck.

kenny mccormick.

one of most perverted boys you’ve met so far.

this man is NASTY with the things he say under his parka.

he was smooth when he came up to you, but was somewhat nervous.

same as the last two, absolutely got roasted when they found out his crush on you.

surprisingly, you were the one to initiate the first kiss.

he can’t afford taking you on dates but hes a resourceful guy when he wants to be, and he could come with some good ideas.

he works at city wok, so he earns at least okay money often. Enough for most basic essentials.

can be very flirty and romantic at times, a caring boyfriend most of the time.

you take care of Karen often, even bring both of them food sometimes.

Hes a very physical man which is is relatively obvious, always holding you, your hand, anywhere really.

Just loves being around you in all honesty.

Has definitely visited you as Mysterion before, even before you two started dating just so he can try and shoot his shot.

kyle broflovski.

he is such a great boyfriend, hes just soo

took almost half a year to confess to you, his friends kept ripping on him, and he just caved in after the taunting got to him.

study dates are a regular thing, even then you two can get a little bit distracted.

first kiss was genuine and sweet, yet quick, and it felt like it was from the movies.

Stan never lets Kyle live it down for that one time he got caught gawking at you. ( he does it all the time )

he can get flustered a bit more easily than the others, but also wont be phased by much due to all things he experienced in his childhood.

Kyles tall, quite tall, yet no one questions because hes in basketball.

due to his height, he is really skilled at the sport, not only because of his height but also because of his great aim.

cartman has tried to ruin the relationship multiple times, and kyle shut that down real quick the first time it happened.

as we’ve seen, kyle has a tendency to lose his patience fast so that could lead to him sometimes snapping at you or anyone around him. though afterwards he apologizes tons.

“Im so sorry you didn’t deserve that im such an asshole—.”

amazing boyfriend though. :)

stan marsh.

interesting boyfriend.

he can often neglect you unintentionally due to his bad habits and unfortunate mental issues, especially after watching his parents as he grows up. he fears the same would happen to your relationship.

hes not the best at communicating his feelings with you, but if something serious is bothering him, he will tell you you.

he always just shows up at your house late in the night always because he “misses you.”

unlike the other 4, nobody except kyle found out about stans infatuation with you.

Until you two got together, that is.

first date was at starks pond, mainly sitting together as you talked and talked for hours.

threw up after your first kiss, but he pretty much thought it was worth it.

he once gave you a cool little sea globe thing, where it had dolphins and a lighthouse.

you two listen to music alot together, its a bit of an intimate thing for you guys. even during intimate moments there even just the quietest music.

he tries his hardest to not mess up with you, so expect a lot of gifts, affection, and or drunk paragraphs into the latest hours of the night.

#southpark #kenny mcormick headcanons #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny mccormick #stan marsh headcanons #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #butters stotch headcanons #butters stotch x reader #butters stotch #eric cartman headcanons #eric cartman x reader #eric cartman #kyle broflovski headcanons #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski

[yourmcu]

V-Day

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary:

You’re not like most people who enjoys Valentine’s Day. Can a certain redhead change that?

A/n: just a late valentine related imagine for all of u bc I’m incapable of posting this sort of stuff on the exact day. enjoy! (I’m finally using this iconic gif don’t mind me)

Word count: 1,753

Warnings: fluff

The 14th of February is just another normal day for you. You always find Valentine’s Day cheesy, you don’t see the point of celebrating it. That sort of thing isn’t as important as Christmas or Halloween. Not that you're bitter because you're single, you couldn’t care less about that, it just isn’t the occasion for you.

Tony outdone it this year. The compound looks like it was powdered pink and red overnight from all the decorations when you step out of your room. You almost don’t want to know what the main area looks like. Sam and Wanda are probably getting started on breakfast which would consist of everything shaped like hearts.

Your plan for the day is to stay in your room, only coming out for snack and drink refills, simple as that.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s...” you pretty much tone out every v-day greeting that came your way, rolling your eyes playfully as you sit down with everyone, greeting them with the usual good morning. You expect the compound to be deserted by midday since surely all of them have plans with their partners for the rest of the day, which is perfect. For you. And for them, of course, yeah.

Sam and Bucky made their way to you. “So, Y/N, how are you?” Sam greets. You already suspect that they were hyping you up for something. “Food good, coffee good... sleep well?”

You turn to them with a smile on your face. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Well,” Bucky lets out a breathy laugh. “Sam here was just helping me-”

“That is not what’s happening. What he wanted to say was,” the birdman cuts him off. “We both wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, we can’t settle on who, so we’re letting you pick.”

You blink. They have to be joking. Do they not notice your routine during this time of the year? After socializing with the team you’d grab a day’s worth of snack, head back to your room, lock the door and lose your mind on video games until the next day.

Unhealthy, but it's for one day.

“Only if you want to,” Bucky adds hastily.

“Come on, this is a chance of a lifetime!” Sam insists, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to your favorite restaurant.”

“It’s just a friendly date.”

What you fail to notice was Natasha listening to the events happening. Her foot taps against the floor as she discreetly waits for your response, taking coffee sips and bites of food and looking away whenever she looked like she's eavesdropping. No one else is paying attention, everyone has their own conversations.

Inside, she pleads that you’d turn both of them down, just because she’s planning to ask you out herself. They just beat her to it.

“I appreciate the thought but I’m sorry, I have plans,” you shrug. “Why don’t you take each other out instead? Not literally.” You give them another smile and walk out of the room, coffee in hand. 

Sam and Bucky nods indicating they understood. Sam tells his friend that if he had more appeal you’d agree to the date. But they take you up on your advice, already planning a guy’s night.

Natasha almost cheers when she hears the first part, only to spiral when she hears that someone had already asked you beforehand. You're unavailable. She could ask you out any day, but you deserve something extra special. She sees this day as her only chance to confess her feelings for you.

Her eyes trail you as you walk out, turning to Wanda when you were out of sight. “Do you have any idea who asked Y/N out?”

“I don’t,” Wanda replies, a bit distracted. “They’re lucky, I’ve never seen Y/N show interest in anyone since I met her. Anyway, I have to go, Vision and I have a whole day planned...”

Natasha huffs while people slowly file out of the kitchen. As far as she knows, Tony's with Pepper, of course, Wanda and Vision, Steve is probably going to join Sam and Bucky on their night out, and Clint is back at his farm celebrating with his wife.

And you’re with that person, which most likely someone who isn’t on the team otherwise she’d know. She's left by herself to mope.

-

Few hours have passed, maybe three, it’s lunchtime. As you suspected the compound is empty, so you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Boxed mac and cheese is the only thing you knew how to make.

“Y/N?”

You almost drop your stirring spoon at the sudden voice. You feel embarrassed about your choice of outfit, you feel and look like a grizzly bear while she looks stunning, even if it’s just plain workout clothes.

“Hey, Nat.”

“I thought you were... out with someone?” Knowing you, she might’ve misunderstood when you said you ‘had plans’. You look so cozy she would love to hug you on the spot if she isn’t so sweaty.

You let out a curious hum, turning off the stove. “I was?” You giggle. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I didn’t, just, I assumed you’d be,” she mutters and finishes her water bottle. 

You're now grabbing a bowl for the mac and cheese you made. “I mean, Sam and Bucky did ask me if I wanted to but... y’know, if I’m being honest they’re not really my type.” You pause to look at her who was staring back. “Have you eaten? This batch I made is enough for three people, I think.”

Natasha nods at your offer. “They did say it was a friendly date.”

You stop scooping the macaroni and perk your head up with a grin. “So you were listening.”

“Not like I had any choice, I was in the same room.” Quick save.

“Mmhm.” 

Then there's  a minute of comfy silence as you clean the area you made the meal on, putting the pot away and stuff.

“Why don’t you have a date today?”

“What?”

“Anyone would kill to go on a date with you, Nat.” Is what you say in your head. But instead you say, “Well, you know, I didn’t expect you be here too.”

Natasha shrugs and before she could answer you add, “No one’s caught the notorious Black Widow’s attention yet?”

She chuckles at your words, looking up at you. “Who did you think I’d go out with?”

“I dunno, Steve-”

“God, no,” she quickly cuts you off and laugh,  you laugh along but at the same time sigh in relief.

“Crap, I just remembered I have a game to finish,” you hold the bowl of cheese and macaroni and stick two spoons on the side. “I’m cordially inviting you to my room, you are very much welcome, after you change.”

Natasha tells you she’ll see you there in a bit.

-

“Huh. I just noticed you do this every Valentine’s Day,” Natasha notes as she takes everything in. Your PlayStation's on, your trash bin is almost full of snack wrappings, couple of beers tucked at the side of your bed. “Cozy.”

“Why, thank you,” you say sarcastically, picking up a controller and waving a vacant one at her. “Feel free. Or you can just watch me fail at this game.”

Natasha decides to join the game a little later, now she's lost in thought on how someone like you spends such a day like this, or how beautiful you looked as your eyes dart at every direction of the screen and how you sometimes bite your lip when you're that focused in the game.

It's always the little things she likes about you.

Glancing at you one more time before eating a spoonful of mac, she turns back to the TV to watch how you're doing.

But you're witty, kind and easy to get along with, why wouldn’t you have a date - or why wouldn’t you want a date on Valentine’s Day?

If only you knew how she feels, she’d make sure to treat you well. Like you deserve. She’d take you on dates you’d enjoy every time the 14th rolls by. If you don’t like the holiday for some reason she’d find a way-

“NO WAY,” you cover your mouth and bump your head to Natasha’s shoulder in defeat, making her come back from her trance to look at the big red words on the screen, indicating you lost. “I almost had it!”

Natasha leans into your touch and pats your back. “You can try again.”

You groan. “I definitely will but for now, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Great,” she shifts a bit to get comfy, switching to Netflix and choosing whatever’s trending right now. “I’m just curious but, do you like someone?”

You hum in response, sipping on a beer, not completely processing what she said. “I - yeah. I guess so,” you tug the blanket closer and pout at the movie that’s on. You don’t like romance movies. You always prefer an action or a mystery one any day. “Do you?”

Natasha feels her heart ache for a moment. “Yeah. She’s kind and sweet, goofy but can still seriously kick your ass type.” Your eyes land to her hands. You knew fully well Natasha isn’t straight, she admitted and definitely doesn’t act like it. “There’s just something about her that makes me... love her.”

“She sounds great,” you mumble, starting to get lost in your own thoughts. “I guess I just-” you hesitate, just because the woman you're about to describe is the same one sitting next to you. “I feel bad for her that someone like me likes her.”

“Why would you think that?” Natasha chuckles, shaking her head.

You shrug. “She’s amazing. So out of my league, I’d say she’s so close but so far away but that would be really cheesy and ugly,” you laugh. “I don’t know, she deserves way better.”

Natasha hums. “Sometimes I think she needs to her worth, because what she doesn’t know is, she’s very much amazing in her own way.”

Looking up at her from her shoulder, your eyes light up and you don’t know when it happened, but you just found her lips pressed against yours softly.

Even if it was just a short kiss you feel breathless when she pulls away to look at you again.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re just describing each other like idiots right?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha leans in to kiss you again.

---

oh my god I want a hug

[shameless plug] check out my natasha romanoff ambience here

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff oneshot #natalia romanova #natalia alianovna romanova #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x fem!reader #black widow imagines #avengers #the avengers #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu imagines #tony stark #bucky barnes #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #vision #steve rogers #x reader #reader insert #valentine's day #fluff

[kate-komics]

Okay, so I LOVE your comics SO MUCH!!!! So much so, that I wanna make a comic of my own too. I also use Procreate for a lot of art stuff, but are there any tips on comic layout and shadowing, lighting and drawing peopl? I'm having the most trouble with how the hair should look and lighting in the face.

Okay I can finally answer this one! I had to gather my MATERIALS...

First off, thank you so much for reading my comics and I’m so happy you want to make one! So , let’s get into the process!

So, I write my own scripts and figure out what each page will have and what each panel will contain. The internet’s full of good comic script examples. Some good advice I’ve gotten for figuring out your panels is thinking of it ‘cinematically’, because what are comics besides still movies, really? So when I say cinematically I just mean stuff like close ups to show a lot of dramatic emotion, long shots to establish your environment, different angles for different emotions and so on. I highly recommend finding some crash course in filmmaking. I’m sure YouTube is full of them 😂

As for layouts I don’t have too much to say. Those are really up to the artist style. Like, I usually stick to grid-ish layouts and hardly ever do any diagonal or circular panels. It’s just what I like. Some artists have pages of only crazy dramatic panels with characters bursting out of them everywhere and a bunch of slanting borders of emphasis and over lapping images that look cool.

It. Is. Up. To. The. Artist.

I really really like the way Mike Mignola and Duncan Fegredo lay out the Hellboy comics. Their my main story telling inspiration and I look through their comics often for inspiration on layouts. I thing I often consult is this...

It’s a bunch of examples from Jack Kirby (the king of comics) and layouts he frequently used. It’s saved my ass SO many times. Just keep reading comics and you’ll get a feel for the kind of layouts you like 😘

In the same vain I also come up with 2 or 3 thumbnail ideas for a pages layout and try to figure out which one shows the story the clearest. It’s all about telling a story clearly in the end. Once I get that figured out my process looks something like this...

Tell a clear story. That’s all the goal is. Don’t worry about the quality of your art or your style. Just tell a good story 🥰

So, I can’t give you much advice on drawing people since that is a journey every artist has to endure and it’s different for everyone. Keep practicing and get out of your comfort zone with some crazy poses and props!

BUT... I can tell you some stuff about my shading method that I wish I knew when I started going digital.

First of all, I’d like to say there are...SO many coloring techniques for digital. This is just the way I do it and it works for me.

So, I do all my shading with the magic of the ‘Multiply Mode!’ If you don’t know the coloring modes it’s a very easy one second google. So when I’m shading I use more of an unsaturated color of the environment around them and that looks something like this...

God, I use pale purple for almost everything 😂 but what’s nice about using multiply is that you don’t have to guess at colors and figure out color theory and what not. Your shading with one color that helps unify the whole piece. And you can layer a bunch of multiply layers for deeper shadows or use darker versions of your color as well. And it’s easy to edit the saturation and tone so there’s that too, as a bonus.

And it also really helps set the tone of the environment too! Like if it’s cool or warm, dark or really bright. Here’s some better examples of that...

So yeah....multiply is magic and maybe learn a little bit about color theory to help you along 👍🏻

And finally... shading the face! I’ll be honest, I don’t think I do this that well but here we go anyway. So, the dumb thing about the face is it’s just a bunch of weird recognizable lumps that we have to make sense of and there’s so many lighting angles that cast so many weird shadows and while you’re drawing it you’ll be thinking the whole time “Is this right? This looks really weird.” Lighting a face is HARD, but if you just remember the important areas of it you can make out petty well.

Of course the shading changes with where the light source is coming from, but if you just remember how the ridges of the face slope you can figure out stuff like ‘Should the shadow go on top of or underneath the cheek? The light is really dramatic here so I should make the shadow by the eyes really dark. This character has a very smooth and round face so they don’t need much shading around their cheeks and chin.’ Slowly but surely it will come.

My final advice...

Please....please use references. If you don’t understand something then look it up or look at yourself. Pinterest is a PLETHORA of amazing artistic references, there’s free use 3D models, there’s a timer on your phone camera and there’s the world around you! Reference is so key when it comes to being an artist. Use the tools around you ❤️

And I think that’s all I got. I hope this helps! Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Good luck creating!

#art #art advice #comics #making comics #phew that was a lot and I’m sorry #but it was fun #hope this helps

[tooweirdforyou]

Intense Training Session With Zoro - F! S/O

A/N : if you think I wasn’t going to make a steamy nsfw post for Zoro, especially based on this? Then you’re wrong. lol

Warning : SMALL NSFW AHEAD!

Summary : Asking Zoro for some advice and tips on training, leads to a different kind of lesson. Not good with summaries—

-

“Hey, Zoro?”

Emerging from below and helping yourself up from the ladder that lead up to the crows nest, you smile at Zoro.

The swordsman stops his lifts for a brief second to glance at you, nodding his head to acknowledge your presence before continuing his lifts. “Oh, [Name]. What’s up?”

“Nothing really, I just have a favor to ask.” You say cautiously, smiling more at him as you walk towards him and then took a seat on the couch by the window.

Zoro grunts a bit as he sets down the barbell and picks up his towel to wipe his sweat a bit, glancing to you from the corner of his eye.

“What is it?” He asks suspiciously, his eyes narrowing at you and your awkward, shifting figure.

“Uh, nothing much. Just, do you think you could...” You slowly stood up, walking around side to side, back and forth slowly.

Zoro raises a brow at you before you finally blurted it out.

“Can you please train me? Let me join your training sessions. Give me some lessons to get stronger!” You stop in your tracks and bowed a complete 90° to him.

He was pretty taken back, not expecting you to be so forward as he clears his throat, his cheeks a bit pink as he furrows his brows.

“W-Why me?” His tone sounded a bit harsh, but it wasn’t his intention.

You stand straight and look at him confusedly. “Because you’re the strongest one in the crew... you’re really strong, and I figured if I want to get stronger, you’re the best person to ask. But if you don’t want to, it’s fine! I can ask Sanji or-“

“It’s fine.”

You widen your eyes at Zoro, who was turned away and still holding the towel up to his face. “We’re starting in 20 minutes. Get changed and come up here by then. I’ll teach you some lessons.”

You smile brightly and grin at Zoro. “Of course. Thanks, Zoro!” With that, you’d head down from the crows nest, careful not to fall from the ladder as you made it to the main deck and went to change.

Zoro continued to hide his pink cheeks behind his towel as he exhales softly, wiping the rest of his sweat away.

He felt a bit surprised that you thought of him to train you, and that he was the strongest one in the crew. ( other than Luffy. )

He felt a bit embarrassed hearing that from his crush and couldn’t help the warm cheeks of his.

He was contemplating answering you, but mostly just thinking about how’d he feel, but after hearing you mention the stupid love-cook, it made him annoyed and he spoke without thinking.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to regret this or not, but regardless, you asked him to help you train so that’s what he was going to do.

-

Why did he agree to help you?

Currently doing some stretches as you were told, he couldn’t stop his lingering eyes from wandering all over your body, your curves being accentuated by your spandex shorts and tight tanktop.

It didn’t help you were in the middle of toe taps, bending over each time and showing off your ass directly in front of him.

Zoro shifts a bit uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he averts his eyes. “Alright, that’s enough stretching. Let’s get started.”

Standing up straight, you turn to see Zoro heading over to the dumbbells and you nod, following after him.

“Let’s start off with something easy. Grab a dumbbell and do a 100 squats with 100 lifts.”

You did a double take, widening your eyes. “T-that’s easy?” You ask, clear disbelief in your expression.

Zoro raises a brow and nods. “Of course. If we’d been doing this for a while, I’d make you do five hundred or more.” He says, as if it was obvious enough.

Giving a small hum, almost a whimper escaping your lips, you sweatdrop a bit.

‘Perhaps I asked the wrong person to train me..’

Seeing his skeptic look, you sigh and grabbed the lightest dumbbell you could find, before going over to the center of the room and positioned yourself.

Then, gripping the dumbbell tightly in your hand and into a lifting motion, you spread yours legs and began to squat.

Zoro made his way over and watches as you begin to squat and lift in unison, walking around you in a circle. His eyes glossed over your figure to make sure you wouldn’t hurt yourself with any bad form you accidentally had, but he was quick to be distracted by the sight of your ass.

Imagination was quick to take over his mind, letting himself see that you were bouncing yourself up and down on an imaginary dildo, with the heavy pants from you being heard as you picked up the pace to get it done quicker.

Biting his lip, Zoro slowly walks around to look at you from the front and stare at your big breasts bouncing with each quick squat you made.

His mind let himself imagine his hands squeezing them, one for each hand and let his ears be filled with the sound of your sweet moans as he pinches your buds.

Then he started to imagine you were bouncing on his semi-hard cock, that he hadn’t realized was forming.

With each big bounce you made on his cock, he would harden and let his arms and hands roam your ass and then up your curves.

“Zoro~”

He’d shut his eyes tightly, small grunts escaping his lips and right into your ear as he huskily spoke into it.

“You wanted this to happen, didn’t you? You purposely asked me to train you because you knew it’d lead to this, so you even wore such clothes in front of me..”

“Zoro..” was all that could be heard from you as he pulls you close and thrusts up into you, breathy loud moans filling the room.

“Zoro!”

The way your walls tightened and clenched around him would make him groan out, even more so at your nails clawing at his back and pressing his face into your breasts as you rode him hard.

Zoro would growl a bit and just as he began to thrust roughly, he’d—

“ZORO!”

Widening his eyes, Zoro snaps to reality and sees you standing in front of him with furrowed brows. A bit of sweat could be seen on your forehead as you wiped it away and stare at the green-haired swordsman.

“You okay? I’ve been calling you for a while, you just stood there with your eyes shut.”

Zoro blinks a bit as he takes a look at your body before his own. Slowly, a blush rose to his cheeks as he turns away from you, scoffing.

“I’m fine, did you already finish the 100 squats and lifts?” He says, turned away from you and you nod, a bit confusingly. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good.. do 100 more.”

Pouting, you huff and went towards him, moving so you stood in front of him and disregarded his red face.

“Come on, training isn’t just squats and lifts— I-I’m sure anyways. Let me do something else!”

Zoro looks down at you, and felt his cheeks warm further when he caught a glimpse of your cleavage. He scratches the back of his head before exhaling heavily.

“Fine, we’ll spar a bit. Grab a staff.” Pointing to the stacked bo staffs on the shelf against the wall, Zoro went to his own that was on the ground and picked it up.

Smiling in satisfaction, you nod and went over to the stands and picked a light staff up. Though it was wood, it was smooth and had rounded ends. Gripping it allowed you to not have to worry about splinters, so that was nice.

Walking over to the mat where Zoro stood, you showed him the staff and he nods.

“Good, now try and hit me.”

Humming a bit, you didn’t waste any time to start swinging the staff towards him, charging towards him with each swing but Zoro merely blocked and dodged with ease.

Each lunging towards him let your breasts bounce and Zoro was slowly becoming distracted again. His erection was still there from earlier, and if you stopped and looked closely, you could see the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

Biting his lip and watching the way your legs move since you were quick on his feet, made him so distracted that you managed to get a hit on him in his gut and the action startled him enough to knock him down.

“Ugh-“

You quickly used this to your advantage and jumped over to hover on top of him and held the bo staff horizontally over his neck, ready to press down but instead just held it above him.

Slowly, a grin took over your lips as the realization settled in. “Hey, I did it!”

Overwhelmed with your victory, you hadn’t noticed you were straddling his hips and more specially, ass pressed against Zoro’s crotch below you.

It wasn’t you sat up straight, panting a bit, did you realize what you were sitting on and what was poking you.

Glancing down at Zoro, you see his eyes shut tightly as he quietly grunts and panted a bit himself. His face was flushed.

Tilting your head innocently, you swayed your hips up and down and the softest moan was heard.

“O-Oi, what are you doing?-“

“Did you even try to hide it?”

Chuckling at Zoro, you began to grind onto him a bit, feeling his bulge grow beneath you. “It was visible as soon as you started staring at me while I was squatting.”

Zoro widens his eyes as his blush deepens, him scoffing a bit. “Shut up, I can’t believe you decided to wear this instead of something else.”

You simply roll your eyes. “Would you have become aroused if I wore a hoodie and some sweats like you?” You cheekily question, grinding against his crotch harder.

As you said this, you hum and began to reach for his hand and bring it up to your breasts, letting him grasp it.

“Come on, tell me what’s distracting you from your teaching. Is it my outfit? Because any other woman could wear it... or is it just me in general?”

Zoro bit his lower lip as his eyes began to fill with lust, watching you smirk at him and tease him.

He growls lowly as he forces himself up and turns so you were now on the ground and he hovered above you, hands pressed on the floor on either sides of your head.

“You think you can tease and play around with me like that?” He scoffs, his eyes shining a dangerous glint in them.

Quickly, he plasters a devilish grin and leans down to your ear, hands making their way to the hem of your spandex shorts, gripping the waistband between his fingers.

“Looks like you need to be taught a different kind of lesson.”

-

A/N : this has been in my drafts for so long ( 2 months ) and it’s so old and like, this is just a little something and I know it’s not great but it’s something ;-;

This is completely different from how I wanted it when I first started writing this and because I can’t remember, I changed it that’s why it’s a little messed up, weird, rushed and doesnt match the title nor summary at all.

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece writing #ns.fw #op #scenario

[wienerbarnes]

Much Ado About Nothing (5/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,747

Warnings: none! wedding stuff? 

A/N: happy new year yall hope everyone had a safe one! das all imma say tho im keeping my mouth shut about 2021 i aint risking shit anyway enjoy this chapter :P

MAIN MASTERLIST | MUCH ADO MASTERLIST

For being given a week, the ballroom looks immaculate. Satin drapes and tablecloths of cream and white cover the room, gold and olive green accents strewn throughout. The handful of tables in the room have large centerpieces of small white flowers, thin branches, and delicate leaves, as well as a lace trim around the vase they rest in. A warm toned light makes the room look bigger than it is and the dancefloor welcoming for everyone.

The wedding guests include the team, of course, some of Sharon’s family that were able to make it in such short notice, and anyone’s dates were welcomed. Sam brought a date himself, Sharon extended the invitation to some agents she’d been training over the last few months, and she told you invite those who worked in the lab with you.

She insisted, in fact.

Sharon banished you and Nat to the ballroom, while she finished getting ready, wanting to have a few minutes by herself before the wedding started. You assume Steve felt similarly when you see Sam and Bucky enter the ballroom and merge together with the rest of the team. You linger by the bar, hoping to get a bit of liquid courage before the party starts, but to your dismay, the bar doesn’t open until after the ceremony.

You also don’t want to take a seat because you’ll be one of Sharon’s bridesmaids, along with Nat. You and her wear matching warm brown dresses with a slit on the side, tying in with the neutral and woodsy tones going on throughout the rest of the wedding. Sam and Bucky wear brown bow ties and you assume they’re taking the role of Steve’s groomsmen. You pray you don’t have to walk with Bucky.

As more and more people take their seats, you find Nat and meet the other boys at the back of the room.

“Sam already claimed me.” She tells you cheekily as she loops her arm through Sam’s bent elbow.

Of course he did. You sigh and begrudgingly loop your own arm through Bucky’s as he smirks. While the group of you wait for the music to start to indicate your time to begin walking, you take in the man standing next to you.

He smells crisp and clean, his cologne smelling fresh and flooding your senses with lavender, rosemary, and cedarwood. His bicep is ginormous in your hand and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him through his suit jacket that he wears. He cleans up really nicely. Not that you’ll tell him, but you’ll definitely be thinking about it for the rest of the night.

Bucky’s mind goes through a similar thought process. Your skin is shiny and smooth, and he imagines you applied lotion while getting ready with the other girls. Maybe there hints of glitter in whatever cream you use, because to him, it looks like you’re glowing. You smell like the sweetest of roses and juiciest of fruits, and you look good enough for him to take a bite. He won’t give you the satisfaction of a compliment - God knows the argument that would lead to - but he imprints this vision of you in his mind to remember.

Finally, Steve enters the ballroom and makes his way towards the front of the room and any few people left standing take their seats. As people settle, Steve adjusts his jacket and glances over the room to take in all of his loved ones in one room. He glances over to where John sits alongside Leila and Kennedy, the two other lab interns that work under you, he’s come to learn about. He briefly wonders what John is thinking about, if he thinks his plan worked, if he thinks Steve is going to cause a huge scene in front of everyone, accusing Sharon of cheating in some big explosion. He wonders what John’s reaction will be when he witnesses him marry the most beautiful woman in the world, kissing her to solidify their love.

He can’t wait.

Soon enough the music starts and Nat and Sam begin down the aisle, you and Bucky following after. For someone that has hated the idea of love for so long, walking down the aisle like this feels really great. You’re not sure if it's the anticipation for the bride, or the decorations, or the huge hunk of handsome soldier guiding you down to the front of the room, but it makes you feel tingly all over. Almost makes you want a wedding of your own. Almost.

As Bucky makes his way down the aisle with you on his arm, he meets Steve’s eye, who gives him a smirk that looks a lot like I told you so. He ignores it, though. He knows he’ll get picked on later, but for now, he enjoys having you so close to him. You’re close to him outside of the lab, outside of a mission, outside of an argument. You’re close to him, holding onto his arm like you’re his girl in a sweet silence. He can almost get used to this. Almost.

Once everyone’s in their place, the rest of the guests rise as the music changes and Sharon enters the ballroom. Her dress is beautiful; a lacy brassiere top to connect the flowing train, all of the silk following her walk, making her elegant and glowing. Her hair is lightly curled and there are a few white flowers pinned around the back of her head, matching the rest of the room.

The officiant reads everything they have to and Steve and Sharon share their vows, causing everyone in the room to shed a tear or two. Nat and Sam find it particularly amusing to see you and Bucky wipe a few tears as well, seeming to get foggy eyed in spite of their hatred for love. They’re too busy silently teasing their friends to notice the fume coming from John’s ears, realizing his plan didn’t work the way he wanted it to.

There’s still time, he thinks. Maybe Steve didn’t want to make a big, public fuss. Yeah, once everything is over, he’ll take her upstairs and they’ll talk and soon enough they’ll announce that they’re marriage is over! Shorter than the Kardashians.

Finally, Steve and Sharon kiss to seal their marriage, sharing their official first kiss as husband and wife. Cheers and clapping erupt in the room as the couple makes their way back down the aisle, Nat, Sam, you, and Bucky following after. The lights dim a bit and the bar opens as the music changes to encourage people to mingle and dance until the couple emerges once more.

“What’s the matter, don’t like weddings?” You tease John, coming up behind him, your voice making him jump from leaning against the bar the way he was.

“Uh - No, not really.” He says, turning to face you, feeling awkward as he talks to his boss after trying to sabotage her best friend’s wedding.

“They grow on you.” Bucky’s deep voice makes him jump once more as it comes behind him, forcing him to turn away from you and face him, staring at his towering stance.

“Uhm -” John stumbles as he realizes he’s cornered against the bar by you and Bucky.

“Did you really think you’d get away with it? I mean, you’re surrounded by spies and an artificial intelligence system that records everything in the tower.” Bucky tells him.

John’s eyes widen as they glance between you and Bucky, realizing where he went wrong in his plan. I should’ve figured out a way to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Or at least get rid of any footage of what I did!

“Not to mention the fact that Steve and Sharon are too disgustingly in love with each other to even fall for the kind of charade you put on. In my lab, nonetheless,” You add, “Some kind of unfunny joke by an ex-lab intern.”

“Ex?” John confirms.

“Oh, yea. Leila and Kennedy, too. I don’t want to waste my time training and giving experience and advice to the kind of people that lie, play around, and cause mischief in a lab and in a tower where some of the most important and delicate information in the world is handled. If I wanted that, I’d have Barnes, here, as an intern.” You tell him.

“Hey, I thought we were on the same team here -” Bucky tries to interject, but you smack his arm to get him back into the focus of their conversation with John.

“Anyway,” Bucky continues, “Why don’t you do us the favor of getting out of here? We’ll tell Steve and Sharon that you’re sorry you weren’t feelin’ well and had to head out early. Unless, you’d like for me to get them and bring ‘em over here?” He slings an arm over John’s shoulder, leading him over to one of the exit doors, as John nods his head in agreement, accepting his defeat.

Once John has left and the wedding is officially safe again, Bucky meets you back at where you wait at the bar.

“Nice job, McGeek.” He tells you, leaning on the bar next to you as you turn to face him better.

“Could say the same to you. He looked real scared there at the end.” You giggle.

“He should be, he almost got Steve’s ass kicked by me when Sharon first told us the whole situation.” Bucky tells you, leaning just a bit closer to you.

The bartender comes over to them asking what they’d like to drink. “Whiskey, neat, please. How bout you, Geeky?” Bucky says.

“Vodka cran.” You order.

“Really? That’s your drink of choice?” Bucky teases.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, I thought you’d pick a drink that’s actually good, is all.”

“And here I was revelling in the fact that this was the longest conversation we’ve had where we’re not at each other’s throats.” You tell him.

“Well -” Bucky’s cut off by the dimming of the lights and change in music as Sharon and Steve enter the room again to share their first dance.

His words are forgotten as he watches his best friend dance with his bride, the two of them looking happier than Bucky’s ever seen. Bucky feels a smile bloom on his own face as he watches on; he’s so happy for Steve. He knows this is all he’s ever wanted. The girl, the marriage, the house together, the kids in the future. The happy ending. And he’s happy that despite things - or people - trying to get in the way of that, Steve still got the happy ending he deserves.

He peeks over to see you have a similar smile, admiring the love shared between your best friend and his. He gets lost staring at you as the DJ is heard inviting anyone else to join the newlyweds on the dancefloor.

He asks before his brain can filter his mouth, “Do you want to dance?”

Your head snaps over at him, a surprised expression on your face, and Bucky prepares for you to make fun of him.

“Sure.” You tell him.

He doesn’t risk saying anything that might change your mind, only grabbing your hand softly and leading you to the dancefloor where other couples have begun to fill in. The slow music continues as his hands find their place on the curve of your waist and yours rest on the tops of his shoulders. He feels warmth and tingles flow from the placement of your hands through his suit jacket, down his arms, and through his entire body. He looks at you and how close your face is to his, quite enjoying having you so close in his arms like this.

“Do you remember what we were talking about last night?” She finally breaks the silence.

He hums in indication that he does and for her to continue, “So, you really don’t hate me or anything?” You ask.

“No. I don’t. Actually,” He chuckles humorlessly, “I know you like me.” He confesses.

Tension floods your body. How does he know?! “No, I don't! Not anymore than reasonable, I mean.” You deny.

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his body still swaying with yours with the music, “Oh. Well, you have Steve and Sam fooled, then, because they, uh, had me convinced.” He tells you, trying to play off his incorrect assumption.

“Do you like me?” You ask, drawing yourself just a bit closer to him, his arms moving from your waist to the small of your back.

“Uh, no, no more than a friend, I mean.” Bucky lies.

“Oh. Well, you have Sharon and Nat fooled, as well.” You tell him.

The two of you chuckle softly with each other at the whole situation, an attempt to hide the disappointment in each of your chests at the thought of unrequited feelings. Bucky glances back up to meet your eyes once more, eyes flickering down to look at your lips, in time to see you take your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth. He looks back up at your eyes to catch you staring at his own lips. When your eyes meet his again, it's as though the two of you have a silent understanding. An understanding that you were both lying, and an understanding that you both really want to kiss each other right now.

So he does. Bucky leans in seemingly at the same time you do and presses his lips against yours in a sweet yet fiery kiss. His hands push a little harder into your back to bring you closer and your hands move to touch his neck and cheek, ensuring that his face won’t leave yours anytime soon. Everyone in the room has since disappeared; there are no wedding guests, there are no decorations, there is no music, only you and Bucky.

His lips are soft, softer than you were expecting, and he tastes of peppermint and the sip of whiskey he had, all mixed with a taste that’s so him. His taste and his smell and the feel of his hands on your back and his chest against yours makes you want to melt to the ground in a puddle of mush. You can’t believe you waited so long to kiss him.

Your lips are plump and soft. Your lipstick is fruity but he can taste the sweetness of cranberry behind it and a sweetness that’s all you. You’re the rarest candy he’s ever tried and he’s not sure he’ll ever get enough of it. A part of his mind wants to ignore that they’re still in public, though it certainly doesn’t feel like it, and just kiss you silly for the rest of time.

The two of you finally pull away after what feels like forever and you both can’t help but lick at your own lips, savoring the taste of each other. Before either of you can say anything to follow what just happened, another voice interrupts, “About time.”

You both turn to see Tony and Pepper, her with an admiring smile and Tony with a shit-eating grin. The two of you feel warm as you realize the rest of your friends that occupy the dancefloor are also staring at the both of you. Nat smirks from her place in Bruce’s arms, Sam winks at Bucky over the shoulder of his date, and Sharon and Steve are almost on the verge of happy tears at the sight of their best friends finally getting to be happy with each other. Even Clint and his wife smile at the two of you.

“What are you guys looking at, huh? Never seen a guy and gal dance together?” Bucky barks, Brooklyn accent slipping out as he chooses to pretend none of them saw the kiss that you and him shared.

“Not you two.” Steve says.

“Oh, whatever! What are you guys, five years old?” Bucky asks only to be met with his friends giggling.

“Whatever. Make fun of us all you want. I don’t care.” You speak up, curling your hands around the back of Bucky’s neck.

He looks back at you to meet your kind eyes with a gentle smile. Their friends continue to tease on, but you and Bucky only have eyes for each other. He ignores them and chooses to kiss you again, already craving the taste of your lips on his and the feel of your body in his arms.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #marvel #yay they kithed #:D #what are yalls new years resolutions #i wanna learn how to knit/crochet #and make myself a blanket #and a bucket hat #also kinda wanna learn how to sew but like make clothes kinda sew #like i already know how to fix holes and put on buttons but mamas tryna make a pair of PANTS #but i feel like knitting/crocheting will be easier so imma conquer that first

[ayellowcurtain]

I can be your lover

Part 7

Robbe knows Sander is staring, finding the awkwardness between them funny and not gut wrenching like he is. And Robbe is happy to be around Sander too but the guilt is still in the back of his mind.

It’s a nice surprise that Sander doesn’t hold anything he did or said against him. It helps with all the other bad feelings he’s trying to subside, to pile in the back of his brain, trying to make them smaller and smaller so he can focus on what’s happening now. Sander being chill with him, so much so that it feels like he’s making fun of them for being quiet and awkward.

“You went back to the bleached hair…” Robbe tests the waters himself, wanting to know how chill Sander really is. Because he’s amazing at keeping a straight face but Robbe knows he’ll feel in his words and his tone if he’s being nice just to be nice.

Sander nods his head, drinking his beer, his eyes still never leaving Robbe’s. He’s so comfortable and relaxed, leaning against the old and fancy back porch rail, acting like they haven’t just spent years with no contact because Robbe was rude and sabotaged their first attempt of a relationship. It feels nice, the best feeling, honestly, but Robbe can’t forget as easily about the last few times they talked before this.

“I did. As another part of this...restart again.”

Robbe laughs, leaning against the side wall next to him so he can stare back at Sander and stand on his shaky legs.

“How was it? Moving back, I mean…”

Sander shrugs, looking at the view from Noor’s balcony, “I think it’s a lot easier when you’re moving with no intention of doing it again any time soon.”

“Are you staying with your parents?”

Sander looks at him and he doesn’t have to say it, Robbe knows it’s not Sander’s favorite thing to do: go back to living with his parents. They’re lovely but they’re also overprotective and Sander has very little patience after so many years dealing with it daily.

“Yes.” He grunts. “Hopefully for just a few days.”

Robbe exhales shakingly, not sure if it’s because he’s a little cold after drinking freezing cold beers or because of this conversation, face to face with Sander, “Are you looking for a place already?”

Sander nods his head again, leaning against the rail behind him again, putting his beer on the floor next to his feet.

“You wanna see some apartments with me?”

Robbe feels a heat wave rush up through his entire body right away with the implications of that, even though he knows Sander is just making a joke again, loving to make Robbe feel all types of embarrassment and fondness at the same time. Robbe daydreams for a second about seeing a bunch of apartments with Sander, thinking about how they would decorate each one, how it fits for their lives and routines, even their serious conversations about how they would pay their bills would make Robbe excited. He gently rubs his fingers against each other, no bruises or skin asking to be peeled.

That’s how it always was between them: Sander likes to tease Robbe in any way he can because he knows Robbe gets both shy and more in love when Sander is being weird.

“No…”

“I think it would be fun.” Sander snorts, smiling like Robbe hasn’t hurt him constantly for the past few years, “I mean it, Robbe. I’ll behave myself.”

“Says the one that couldn’t keep his hands to himself if we dared to be shirtless around each other by accident, or took a shower together.” Robbe teases right back, knowing he’ll lose if he plays the teasing game with Sander.

“But that’s not fair, c’mon! You’re talking about us being horny teenagers and half naked or completely naked around each other. There’s no chance of behaving in those scenarios.”

They laugh it off, looking at each other until it fades out back to silence, staying quiet for some time, looking at each other, surprisingly keeping their distance and the light, playful conversation. The pile Robbe was trying to minimize is completely gone now.

“Are you missing your old life already?” Robbe puts his head to the side against the wall and he notices Sander losing his focus, staring down at his exposed neck before meeting Robbe’s eyes again.

“No. Not really. I just got here so maybe it’ll happen later. But I’m happy to be home, even if living with my parents for a second.” Sander looks down, smiling to his thoughts, and up again, suddenly with those puppy eyes with a hint of cockiness if Robbe can stare long enough to find it, “And are you happy that I’m home?”

“Yeah…” Robbe takes a deep breath in, filling his lungs to the maximum “I’m sorry for making your life a mess the past few years. But yes, I’m selfishly happy that you’re home. It doesn’t mean anything, of course…”

“It can…” Sander says just above a whisper, in that challenging way he can use whenever he wants that something to happen. It’s hard to have a normal conversation with someone you’re clearly still very much in love with. Robbe knows him too well not to notice these changes in his gaze, in his tone and he’s still able to understand what each of them means.

“I see you came to this party just to make my life more difficult...”

Sander sighs, grabbing his beer from the floor to finish it at once, licking his lips, putting the empty bottle back on the floor. He shakes his head slowly, as if even he isn’t sure himself of his negative movement.

“You think I’m too hurt to give us a second chance and that you don’t deserve it if I do. And you feel bad that you’re the main reason why we spent the past long years apart. You were always the overthinker and that’s okay. I was always the one that only cared about us, fuck the rest. And that’s okay. We’re different people, you not being able to make a life changing decision so quickly doesn’t make you a bad person. Me still desperately wanting you back after everything doesn’t make me weak for a bad person.”

Robbe swallows the little saliva he has in his mouth, slowly trying to digest all the hard truths that were just said, put out like it was nothing when it felt like the heaviest weight on his shoulders for all these years. Sander is not wrong but hearing him say it so blunty, a very Sander way of doing things if Robbe can say so himself, makes everything feel a lot more real - and meaningless compared to the thunder storm Robbe had in his mind whenever he thought about it privately - and it’s easier for Robbe to fully comprehend when someone explains it to him by their point of view.

“It wasn’t fair to keep you in the middle while I was...struggling mentally all over again.”

“It really wasn’t fair for you to not give me a choice but I get it in a way. It’s not the same but if I was brave enough I wouldn’t want you around when I have an episode. But I’m too attached to ask you to ever leave me alone like you did with me.” Sander exhales, smiling at him, “Now that we got that out of our way, can we leave?”

Robbe laughs, in shock, opening and closing his mouth, wanting nothing more than to leave with Sander. But he’s sure everyone is watching them from the inside, wanting to know what’s going on. The second they get inside and go straight to the front door, he knows his friends will tease them about it. Every time they stop talking, Robbe can almost be sure that the music inside is a little too low for a party.

And it still feels uncertain, how they’ll feel about this once they’re awake tomorrow, thinking more clearly, the adrenaline of finally seeing each other and fixing what they can of their problems out of their system after a good night of sleep and hours to get rid of all the alcohol they drank.

“Yes.” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since Sander left in that plane years ago. Even if he’s scared, his brain doesn’t seem to give him any other option because why would he say no to running away with Sander?

Sander grabs the bottle from the floor and Robbe pushes himself to stand up properly, turning around to push the glass door open, hearing the soft music playing inside quickly embrace them too - definitely too low for a party - and he can only hope the balcony door has a level of soundproofing. He can’t look at anyone in the eyes so he makes a bee line to the front door with no excuse in mind, hoping Sander is following him.

He can’t hear a single comment or a laugh but he can feel the anticipation of everyone noticing how they are already leaving, and together, and he laughs under his breath, rushing past the door, closing it behind him, waiting outside, not even sure at this point if this was what he was supposed to do.

Sander appears after a long, nerve wracking minute, closing the door behind him, smiling at Robbe.

“Did they say anything?” Robbe asks, feeling dumb for staying outside even if just for another second. Anyone can come out and make fun of them.

“Noor came with me to the door. She was staring and not saying a word and they were laughing. I’m pretty sure some advice was whispered but I wasn’t paying that much attention to take notes. You want me to go back inside and check…?” He points back, threatening to go back inside and Robbe holds the sleeve of his jacket.

“No!”

Sander laughs and Robbe shakes his head, blushing, rushing downstairs, finally. It does feel like an escape, makes his heart beat fast and he laughs when he hears Sander’s snort echoing around the building.

He holds the massive front door open for Sander and they start walking home. They know where they’re going and to do what but Robbe can't bring himself to kiss Sander on the street like he so badly wants to do it.

“Use condoms, you dirty boys!” Moyo screams, half his body out from the apartment window and Milan appears too.

“And lube! Lube, Robbe!”

“Will do.” Sander doesn’t scream back, but answers anyway, loud enough for anyone on the sidewalk level to hear, showing his thumb up to the boys that wave back to them and blow kisses.

“That wasn’t embarrassing.” Robbe smiles, looking around them, a little more at peace when he doesn’t find anyone on the street or looking at them from any window.

“It could be worse.”

“How, exactly?”

“They could be coming with us to buy those things…” Robbe laughs because that would really be a lot, a lot worse.

Robbe bites his bottom lip, walking sideways to look at Sander.

“So you don’t have condoms...or lube…?” He frowns, very ashamed to be asking.

“I didn’t want to assume anything coming here tonight.”

“Good. Right. You’re right.”

“Thank you.” Robbe is still thinking about them, stopping to buy condoms and lube on their way home, when he feels Sander’s hand going from one of his shoulders to the other one, finally hugging him, pulling Robbe to face him, walking back, hoping Sander is looking at where they are going.

“Fuck, I miss you, Robbe.”

“I miss you too.” Robbe feels their hearts beating almost just as fast and as loud against each other, and he puts his arms around Sander’s waist inside his jacket, pressing them closer, looking up in a quiet way to ask for a kiss, “I can’t believe you’re home.”

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #robbe x sander #*screaming in excitment!!!*

[hopeswriting]

I meant to do a post about my thoughts on the Daily Life Arc now that I finished rereading it, but I can't seem to find the time and it's been a while now, and if I keep it up I'll forget what my thoughts are to begin with lol, so here's the long story short:

I know it's a long arc, as in it starts being boring and more or less unbearable past some point, because the "gag of the chapter" format only takes you so far, and not actually very far if Amano's humor doesn't work on you much, if at all. I don't think it's an arc you can reread right away/soon either, lest you feel that one flaw even faster.

And I felt it too, starting with the fourty-something chapters I felt like it was dragging on too much, though to be fair that probably had to do too with the fact I knew things much more interesting were coming after that.

Still, all that said, like, it's an enjoyable arc. Amano's humor happens to work on me, and she does it really well, and I liked reading the arc. There are some chapters where you're really asking yourself why they were written for lol, but even then you read it for the characters, and it somehow keeps you going.

And like, even though I think Amano could have seen the fact the comedy was going to turn repetitive and thus boring at some point, and try to diversify it or something, it's just how comedy/humor/gags works? Some jokes land and some doesn't, but for me at least a lot more of them worked than not.

The DLA is a good enough arc is what I'm saying.

------

On than note and on the contrary, of course it's fine if you think it's a bad arc, to each their opinion, but personally I really don't agree it's an unnecessary one.

I'm saying this because apparently it's not uncommon to advice new fans to skip the arc and directly start with the Kokuyo one? (Or so I learned on TV Tropes anyway, this might or might not be still relevent/accurate.)

Now don't get me wrong, the DLA does fail to hook the readers to the story for the reasons stated above, I agree with that, but it literally introduces the main character? And all the other characters, and gets us to know them, and establishes the dynamics between them and why they're the way they are, and, though only in a more or less superficial manner (and more than less) by design of the arc's purpose (not being deep in any way lol), it still gives us an insight into the characters and why they're the way they are. A glimpse into the core of their personality, the "stakes" of their characters, the flaws they have to overcome.

And all that in the context of their daily life, so if you skip it to go directly to the arc that challenges them, you can't appreciate fully how they rise to the challenge, how it shows their growth or reasserts their core values. You can't know how much or what it means, for example, off the top of my head, to have Yamamoto sacrifice his arm to beat Ken, when only a year ago he tried to kill himself over his broken arm. Or Hibari losing against Mukuro, thus telling us how much of a real threat he was. Or Tsuna screaming at Lancia for having hurt his friends, anger on his face, clearly despite himself, that Dame-Tsuna.

All these just wouldn't hit you the same, and it'd be such a shame? I mean I guess the ones who start with the Kokuyo arc go back to read the DLA, or you could compromise like the anime did by splitting the DLA between more serious arcs, but like I said I personally don't find the DLA that bad, so I still wouldn't advice it lol.

Even if, I suppose, it'd mean they might give up on the manga somewhere through the DLA, but like? Some mangas just don't speak to you, and that's fine, and it'd be a little of a shame from my POV as a KHR fan, but still, no big deal.

------

I'm still very impressed with how smoothly Amano went from a gag manga to a shonen one, and how she made it so the DLA still fits with the rest. I mean the sudden change in tone/stakes/etc is jarring, sure, but it's all based on stuff she introduced in the DLA, which she presumably came up with with no intention to ever make it something deeper/more meaningful.

It's easy to believe the foreshadowing, and generally speaking the worldbuilding was planned all along, which, again, probably not, and like? Super impressive.

(Though once more don't get me wrong, there are inconsistencies/plot holes in Amano's plotlines and worldbuilding, but not, like, at their seams, if I can say it like that? It's more often in the details, and it's fairly easy to fill in the blanks ourselves.)

------

Finally it was a lot of fun to rediscover the characters in a new light, and a bit of a disbelieving surprise tbh.

For context before I started my reread of the manga, all this time I was going with the time I read/watched it years ago plus the times I skimmed it, but mostly by all the fanon I was consuming. And it's not to say fanon is wrong per se, but it latched on one to three character's traits, or slapped an easy character archetype on them easy to "relate" to within, and apparently never looked back lol. And also often dialed up those traits (good or bad) in a very noticeable manner.

What I'm saying is, fanon is, in fact, wrong sometimes zldnslsz, and the characters are much more nuanced even in the DLA! (Which still leaves us at a more or less superficial level, because, you know lol, but still!)

------

To name the ones that stood out to me the most:

Nana isn't abused by Iemitsu, nor is she unhappy in her marriage despite Iemitsu being an absent husband (which is not relevent in the context of the DLA, but still, you can tell). She isn't an abusive mother to Tsuna either, and she is literally never an airhead. She literally just isn't, she actually does react very normally to the crazy Reborn brings with him, but much like Yamamoto as long as no one gets hurt (or walks it off), she just brushes it off.

And she has friends she goes listen to piano recitals with, and tries to save on money by eating rests, and gets in two-way arguments with Tsuna, and raises his allowance if he gets better grades to push him to work harder, and all around is just your average mom that really didn't read as just The Mom, if you know what I mean.

She has her flaws, definitely, she's not a great mom, namely is apparently used to call Tsuna Dame-Tsuna, but she's not just that.

She takes care of him, worries over him, and seems to be the only one who hasn't given up on him yet when the story starts. She supports him (though sometimes in a tactless to hurtful way), praises him when he does well, and trusts him to watch over the kids.

She's not that bad is what I'm saying, and 100% redeemable (that is, if you think she needs to be redeemed to begin with, which I actually do think she does, calling Tsuna Dame of all things is just a really shitty thing to do.)

(Though it's interesting to note that she doesn't do it again after what happened with Kyoko iirc, even if she might very well still talk to him in a belittling way at times. I just wish Amano would have commit fully to acknowledge it and resolve it, what with already having made it Kyoko's Dying Will Regret.)

(Edit: I had forgotten but she literally forgets his birthday while preparing someone else's birthday, so I take back that she is 100% redeemable because it's being too nice. But my point still stands.)

------

Haru is literally such a fun character, it makes me even more sad now to know what Amano did with her (nothing ansknslq 😭😂).

She's unhinged, has zero impulse control, does not reflect on the consequences of her lack of impulse control as Tsuna points it out, is ready and willing to throw hands at any given moment and is unapologetic of it, and is the one Amano actually calls an airhead.

The only problem she had with the mafia is that she thought Tsuna was forcing it on Reborn, and when she confirmed it was all true she literally didn't even blink at it, and immediately called herself the future Decimo's wife djosdkkd.

On that note she is literally mafia right from her first appearance, is more or less involved in almost all the mafia shenanigans, was right there with Tsuna & Co when they went to destroy the Tomaso's headquarters.

And like?? Amano could just have left it at that if she wasn't going to do anything else/more with it. Haru had so much potential, and not only Amano did nothing with it, she actually watered her down and took away all her distinct character's traits 😭.

------

Hibari is so much more feral and playful than his fanon cool, overpowered, quiet badass counterpart. Which I love too, don't get me wrong, but these two sides of him don't have to be exclusive!

He talks and smiles and jokes often, and shows off and casually insults you, and licks the blood away from his lips after having beaten bloody other middle schoolers who dared to defy him (I know this happens in the Kokuyo arc, but it illustrates my point the best).

Not much more to add than that, we should just acknowledge that and put it in our works more often.

------

Gokudera is a compelling character from the get go, and as far as the DLA goes, he's the most compelling character second to Tsuna. He's the only one to actually have flashbacks and a backstory. And what stood out to me the most that I don't see often in fanon, is that he's really a good friend.

Yes he has a short fuse and snaps easily and is easy to anger, but he's not always angry. And is seen having and being capable of positive exchanges outside of Tsuna (I'm thinking Yamamoto namely, who's made with Ryohei to be the one he gets angry with the most).

And yes he holds Tsuna on a pedestal and sees him through heavily tinted pink glasses, but even through that he's earnestly a good friend. And tries his best, and is hardworking and overachieving, so much so he messes up without meaning to, but he only ever has honest, straight-forward good intentions behind it all (well, maybe not always lol).

I love him a lot more now is what I'm saying.

------

And Tsuna. I'm not sure I'll be able to articulate my thoughts properly, but like... he's just your average teenager. Which of course is his whole thing, and I'm saying it in a very not judgy way whatsoever, but he's often made to be at least a little more than that, namely about his bullying.

Like, it's kind of dramatised in fics? And I'm not going to elaborate on that more because it might come out wrong and I don't want that, but it's just, like—canonically he is just bullied, simple as that. Like many other teenagers are.

And it's all in a "chill" way (for unfortunate lack of a better word, I don't mean to trivialize bullying at all, it's wrong and unfair and never deserved or okay, just so we're clear), and by the time the story starts Tsuna is used to it and has given up fighting against it, and actually finds refuge and a twisted comfort in embracing his Dame-Tsuna's monicker, because at least he's not gonna hit rock bottom deeper than that if he does.

And I'm not actually going anywhere with this, it's just? It hit me how differently canon and fanon portray his bullying.

Back on the note of him being a (below) average teenager, Tsuna is not an uwu pure cinnamon roll too good for this world.

He's literally so quick to judge and criticise, whether in his head or out loud when he knows more the person (namely Haru lol, poor girl), it was actually a bit of a shock tbh lol. He snaps easily, and is lazy, does not want to try even one bit, and is happy to run away from his responsibilities whenever he can.

And not only I'm not saying that in a judgy way this time either, but I'm actually saying it in a good way. He really felt like your average middle schooler, and it was so refreshing to see. That, plus the fact the narrative never holds it against him, let alone punishes him for it even if he's made to grow out of these traits, and it's literally part of his character arc, is kind of unique for the shonen genre (maybe, I'm not exactly a specialist of shonen mangas lol).

And I can see why you'd want to change it in fics, but personally I think it really makes his character's arc even more meaningful.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr text post #daily life arc #i said long story short but this is actually the long story 😭 #lile a lot of things i just really need to start to keep going uh sbdlsnks #if the read more doesn't work i'll add it on desktop as soon as i get my hands on a computer #in the meantime sorry about that #khr reread

[kekoma]

— oikawa as your boyfriend.

it’s the lack of ass for me. oikawa simps come eat. hope you enjoy.

hmm.. just gonna blink twice and 😀 where’s his ass..? can’t go around smacking bones.

anyways— i know... this man gets a bad rep. 

some may believe he’s not fit to be in a relationship because of his attitude, flirty personality that attracts a lot of girls and blah blah blah.

and it’s been said he once had a girlfriend yet it ended due to obsession love for volleyball.

BUT hear me out.

dating oikawa is possible and it’s not as bad as some paint it out to be.

plus you can either help iwa bully your boyfriend or prevent him from getting his ass beat. all up to you.

but seriously, dating toru is actually sweet and not entirely problematic.

his love for volleyball tones down a bit ever since he started dating you and he isn’t that tough on himself too when it comes to the sport.

your words mean a lot to him and if you say he’s the best then he believes it, opting to take it easy on himself for once all because of you.

something to mention— when the dating news broke out and his fan girls wanted to come after you, he was there to protect you with the help of iwa. scolding them to the point that they would almost cry.

doesn’t even care if he’ll end up losing some because you come first and that’s final.

and if there are delusional ones that still manage to bother you by saying that he really doesn’t love you or that they’ll steal him away— toru would deadass give you his jacket and kiss you right in front of them.

he doesn’t play around when it comes to you.

those butthurt girls will just have to accept that he’s no longer available, his heart solely belongs to you and volleyball.

side fact: your relationship with him is also considered goals to those at school— they can’t help but wish they had something like you two do.

def not insecure about losing you though since he’s confident about how much you care and love him.

so he won’t snoop through your phone, doubt you or go overboard to keep your attention.

but if he ever did feel slightly insecure, he’ll probably ask iwa for advice before asking you up front how you feel; even if he normally believes your words.

sometimes he just likes to verbally hear you say how much you love him. nothing more. nothing less.

now if you get insecure— it’s a bit impossible to be honest.

toru won’t admit to it but he’s vv clingy when he’s with you.

you’re the first person he generally cares and love that isn’t his best friend or nephew so automatically, he can’t help but want to be with you.

and speaking of nephew— he has introduced you to him and finds it adore how quick you two became friends.

definitely takes pictures of you two together and even puts them into a folder titled ‘my two favs’ or something cute.

but when you aren’t around his nephew to take pictures then oikawa loves taking pictures with you in the mirror.

something about them just hits different for him and he most likely posts some of those pics on his sns.

if you’re an amazing cook/baker and you end up making his favorite, milk bread, then he’s definitely bragging to iwa about it.

“heh look what my lovely y/n-chan made me~ milk bread and you know-”

“y/n makes the best... keep reminding me dumbass and i’ll end up eating it while kicking your ass...”

“how rude.. can you really treat a friend that cruelly when all he wants to do is talk highly about his lover’s cooking skills?”

“yeah. now stop reminding me. i’ve tried her food before.”

“so rude— wait... what?”

also toru LOVES to brag about you to the team.

you could literally do anything simple and he’ll just tell the team about it.

proud baby activities all day long. NO BREAKS.

he’s definitely the type to send good morning and good night texts.

sometimes he’ll ask if it’s alright to facetime during the night because he wants to fall asleep to your voice and the thought of your face being the last thing he sees makes his dreams 10x better (in his opinion)

but this mainly happens when you aren’t able to go over to his place and he can’t come over to yours due to distance.

if you end up staying at his place or vice versa, you both will probably talk about the most weirdest topics.

“do you think kangaroo milk taste good?”

“i mean maybe but have you ever thought about what bat milk taste like?”

“you know... that’s a good one toru. what the— maybe it’s rich because they eat fruits!”

“they also eat bugs princess, never forget the bugs.”

def the type to tease you occasionally and buy gifts because it just screamed your name so he couldn’t resist buying it.

nicknames. let’s talk about them quickly since two have been mentioned.

top nicknames are... 🥁🥁🥁 princess, y/n-chan, gorgeous, cutie/little cutie and love.

long awaited but pda—

in public, oikawa will do it all. he isn’t afraid to be extremely affectionate with you at all. mans is balls deep in love with you.

hugging you before picking you and planting soft kisses all over face is just an example of what he’ll do.

sucker for kisses. whether it’s random, extreme sweet that it rots your teeth or lustfully— he’s gonna find a way to get his lips on yours.

but of course he tries to keep his touches on the PG side since he isn’t in the mood to be scolded by iwa or anything.

as for private; he’s a sucker for cuddles. always wanting you to run your fingers through his hair because it brings him to ease and makes him sleep faster.

also loves laying on your chest and drawing little shapes on your skin. 

anything vv intimate, he loves it.

also gotta add that the kisses follow too when it’s in private.

dates. OH MY DATES.

 stargazing? yeah. boba tea dates? yeah. going shopping together and getting some matching items? yeah. making a fort out of pillows and blankets just to go on a movie marathon together? heh yeah.

as long as the date considered cute and chill— then oikawa does it, but the main thing he looks for on these dates is talking. 

he loves how well connected you two become over topics/situations, even if he may disagree with a few. he likes knowing your thoughts and opinions surprisingly.

i’ll end this before it gets any longer... so to concluded; oikawa is a great guy. even if i dislike him at times— would def recommend dating this ass less man <3

© all content belongs to kekoma 2020. do not repost, modify or translate.

#haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyuu aoba johsai #oikawa toru #oikawa tooru #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #hq x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru x y/n #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq oikawa #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #oikawa imagine #hq hcs #haikyuu hcs #oikawa toru hcs #oikawa tooru hcs #🎐.oikawa

[mnictasbcl]

For you

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 11th: First argument- first making up @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Markus, Hank Anderson

Relationships: Connor/Markus, Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: First fight, blood mention, Worry, Concern, Guilt, Argument, Injury, Not serious injury, Just ouchy, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, care, First aid, Mention of knife violence, Just a little stab, Making up, interface, Cuddles

Summary: Connor is self-sacrificial, Markus isn’t a fan of this, and they have their first argument.

Luckily, Hank is there to help and teach him a thing or two about relationships.

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

“But this isn’t the Revolution, Connor!” Markus raised his voice.

Connor shook his head, smearing a streak of thirium off his cheek. “I know it isn’t. That doesn’t mean I’m no longer useful.”

“That’s… not what I’m saying. You can’t just run off into situations like that without backup!”

“Yes, I can.” He stared at the ground. “That’s my job, Markus.”

“Some days it feels like that’s all you think about.”

He blinked. That wasn’t fair. He… his job was no longer his sole purpose, of course, but he was still good at being a detective.

“You know what? I—I did it for you.”

The emotions brimming to the surface, combined with the pain radiating from his side, became overwhelming. Connor looked over the other android one more time before suddenly turning, storming away from New Jericho. He thought he could hear Markus shouting for him in the background, but he couldn’t comprehend it anymore.

  _____________

 That had been his morning. Fear, the mission, completing it—and an argument. Now, he was walking down the streets of Detroit, thirium trickling down his side, only one destination in mind.

He rapped his knuckles against Hank’s door. It opened after a few moments, the man half groggy with sleep, but he quickly moved into action upon seeing the android on his doorstep.

“Connor? What’re you doing here? I thought you were spending the weekend with Markus.”

Connor sighed, moving inside, not quite ready to answer questions. He just needed to pull off his coat, take a long, hot shower, and think about things—

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

He startled at Hank’s curse. Oh, right. He’d taken off his coat, revealing the gaping wound in his side.

“Apologies, Li—”

“Don’t go back to that. Just- just sit down,” Hank grabbed his arm, manoeuvring him gently but firmly to the couch, “I’ll go get the first aid supplies.”

Connor sat down without argument, glancing briefly to the Lieutenant as he rushed off towards the bathroom to grab the supplies. He started to feel a little guilty, coming into the man’s home without forethought to call ahead, especially with an injury. The guilt swirled together with the stew of other emotions in his mind, and he groaned.

This didn’t make sense. It was… it was too much, there was no logical pathway to sorting through each thing, and—

He was broken out of his thoughts by a wet nose sniffing at his hand. He chuckled, allowing Sumo to lick his hand.

“Ugh!” Hank’s outburst upon coming back into the room was warranted. Connor had forgotten about the thirium staining his hand, which the Saint Bernard was now licking off with fever. “The pair of you are disgusting, god.

“Anyway, I’ve got the android skin glue stuff. It’s just a surface wound, right?”

Connor nodded. “It didn’t damage any internal components or processors. Just nicked a thirium line.”

He was glad that Hank didn’t question him further quite yet, instead getting to work on the wound. It was only once the bleeding (or thirium leakage) had been stopped, the artificial skin sealing back up, did he begin.

“So… what happened?”

“A suspect managed to outsmart me briefly, with a knife; however, I did succeed in apprehending them.”

Hank nodded. “Right. That’s… kinda not what I meant, son.” His tone softened. “How did this happen? You were spending the weekend with Markus at New Jericho, not doing work.”

Connor frowned. “Yes, but I’m never truly off the clock. There were reports of an anti-android suspect breaking into New Jericho. I stopped them.” His gaze trailed off. “I… We do have some people for that in New Jericho, but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Noting there was more to be said, Hank didn’t interrupt. Shortly after a few deep breaths, Connor continued.

“Word was that they were after Markus. It was unlikely they’d be able to get through the walls of security, but I couldn’t take that chance. They were going to take him away.” The ‘from me’ was left unsaid.

“So…” Hank began. “Is Markus okay, then?”

Connor nodded curtly. “Yes. He’s fine. They didn’t get anywhere near him.”

Hank frowned. “So why did you come here? Not that I don’t love seeing you. But they have much better android care back in New Jericho. And surely Markus didn’t let you walk away looking like that.”

“Is that an insult to my appearance, Lieutenant?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Nothing wrong aside from the blue blood all over you.”

“That seems like an overstatement.”

“And it seems like you’re trying to distract me from the main topic.”

Connor sighed. “Astute as ever. Fine. Markus was… rather displeased that I suddenly went after the suspect myself, without waiting for any sort of backup.”

Hank groaned. “Of course you did.”

“But I had to!” Connor retaliated in defense. “I’m perfectly capable of taking down one… or two suspects. I was built for this. I took out multiple Cyberlife guards on the night of the Revolution, all fully armed.”

Hank patted his knee. “Look, kid, I don’t think anyone’s doubting your—”

“I’m not a kid.”

Hank took in a breath. “Maybe not literally. But you’re my kid.” That shut Connor up for a few moments. “Anyway. I don’t think me or Markus are doubting how good of a cop you are. But he was right. That’s a dangerous situation to go into alone. Maybe he was worried about you, too, just like you were worried about him. You don’t have any more bodies to hop into, Connor. This is all you got. You have to take it with more safety.” A pause. “Please.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m not disputing that.” He met Hank’s gaze briefly. “I just… I understand he was worried. I was worried. And I did take too many risks. But… I didn’t think this would end things.”

Now it was Hank’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“With me and Markus. He was really upset. He said, he said something like ‘the job is all I care about’. Or like that.”

“A fight isn’t going to end your relationship.” Hank laughed in shock, not unkindly. “You love each other. These things just happen. They’re not pleasant, no. I remember, with my wife…” A faraway look caught his eyes briefly. “We used to get into our fair share of disagreements. But they’re not what define you two. All that was behind your words was worry. And maybe you hurt each other with what you said. You just have to fix it.”

Connor took Hank’s advice in. It was… helpful.

“That makes sense. That… thank you, Hank.” He fiddled with the thick fur on Sumo’s ears. “So Markus doesn’t hate me?”

Hank laughed genuinely this time. “Of course not. In a different sense, do you think I hate you every time you go self-sacrificial on patrol?”

“Maybe not every time. I’d say there’s a 50-50 chance you show resentment after I make a… questionable work decision.”

“Well, I think Markus is a lot more patient than me. And I haven’t disowned you yet.” At Connor’s wounded look, he held up his hands. “I was kidding! Geez.

“Anyway, just… whenever you’re ready, go back over there. In fact, I can drive you anytime today. I’m sure he’s worried sick about you. Don’t want to turn that poor kid grey too.”

Connor laughed.

  _____________

 After showering and finding some clothes to put on, that weren’t stained blue, Connor accepted Hank’s offer to drive him back to New Jericho.

It was definitely the right decision. Not long after they’d pulled away from the house, Connor began to feel impatient to get back there. He’d left Markus alone after an argument, and after the whole threat on his life that morning. The suspects were stopped, but he still couldn’t help but worry.

Thus he was thankful when they pulled up at the location, thanking Hank with a grateful smile and promise to be back by Monday, before rushing out of the car.

Markus was no longer on the outskirts of the town, but he was sure he knew where he was going to be.

He was correct. Walking into the painting studio, he spotted the lone figure of his boyfriend at the far canvas, hands moving in the fluid motions of brush strokes.

Connor approached quietly, but perhaps his whirring yellow LED gave him away to the other deviant, who turned around at once, and seemed to breathe a large sigh of relief.

“Connor, you came back.”

He rushed over to Markus, stopping a couple of steps away from him. “Of course I did. I was just… visiting Lieutenant Anderson.”

“I could tell from the shirt.” He chuckled, gesturing to the baggy old DPD hoodie Connor was now wearing. “But… it’s a relief to see you. There were things I said, that…”

“I did too. I regret it. I don’t value my work over you or anyone else at all. I wasn’t thinking, shouldn’t have just ran out like that…”

“I know you don’t, Connor.” Markus agreed. “I wasn’t thinking either. What you did in the Cyberlife Tower, on the Revolution, with all those androids—it was amazing. So amazing it’s something you can really only do once. But despite the risk… you survived. And I’m so thankful for what you helped bring for our people. That was when I realised, I loved you.

“But that also means you need to be safe. We don’t have to take those kinds of risks anymore. Our people are free. There are, regrettably, individuals such as the attackers this morning who want to steal that from us. But we have the advantage now.” He stepped towards Connor, hand extending in an invitation to interface. “And I can’t lose you.”

Connor accepted the invitation, skin peeling back, white chassis visible and connecting to Markus in interface with a soft clink. He felt a rush of emotions, warm and fuzzy, and he sent back his own, some worry intermingling but overall, love and compassion.

“I can’t lose you either. But I promise, I’ll be safe.” He brought the connection away, arms moving this time to embrace Markus. “Safer, anyway.”

Markus chuckled. “You better be, Connor. Because if you get yourself killed, then I’ll kill you. And then I’m sure Lieutenant Anderson will kill you too.”

“And Sumo.” Connor added with a smirk.

“I don’t know, he seems too pure for that. But… whatever. Just don’t die.”

“Likewise.”

#dbhcolorsofdeviancy #dbh #detroit become human #rk1k #dbh rk1k #dbh connor #dbh markus #dbh connor/markus #connor/markus #dbh connor and hank #dbh hank #dbh fanfic #fanfic #first fight

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 4: A Whisk We’re Willing to Take

I think this is turning into a much longer story than I had initially planned... oops. To the anon who sent that lovely ask about the dream they had - this one’s for you! I changed it up just a little bit, but I definitely got the inspiration from you! Also, thank you to everyone who’s been keeping up with this! I appreciate each and every one of you. <3 

In case you missed them, here’s the links to the previous chapters! 

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

@lumosinlove

 I think we need to talk.

Logan panicked the entire time he and Finn wandered the hallway trying to find someplace quiet to talk, Finn’s words echoing in his head. ‘We need to talk’ was never a good thing.

Especially when he had just almost-kissed someone who wasn’t Finn.

Fuck.

They finally found a secluded corner. Logan was already nervously talking before Finn had even turned around. “Look, Finn–” The redhead’s hand over his mouth prevented him from continuing.

“You like Leo, don’t you?”

Logan refused to look at him and took his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “I… Finn, I’m sorry. Who does this? It’s so messed up, I’m so messed up–”

“Well then I’m messed up, too!”

“What?” He finally looked up, scared of what he might see. But Finn, against all odds, didn’t look mad. Quite the opposite, really.

He looked ecstatic.

“I like him too.”

“What?”

Finn grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ve been researching poly relationships for about a week now.” He suddenly grabbed Logan’s hand in a fierce grip. “And it’s not messed up. We’re allowed to love whoever we want, and screw anyone who thinks otherwise.”

“You never said anything!”

“I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same!”

Logan laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding? It’s Leo.”

“Yeah.” Finn said with a dreamy look on his face.

“And to think we could’ve been pining together all this time.” Logan pulled Finn in for a hug, burying his face in the taller boy’s shoulder. “You know, I thought there was going to be a lot more drama involved in this.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, I just thought there’d be a lot more miscommunication or only one of us felt this way or something. I guess I thought this was going to end badly since I started feeling like this.”

“We’ve always been on the same wavelength, Lo. I’m not surprised it’s the same with this.”

Logan’s relief dimmed just a little. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Finn sighed, tightening his grip on the brunet. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. How about we test the waters first and see if he might be interested instead of just assuming the worst?”

Logan leaned back to squint at Finn. “Do you mean we should flirt with him on national television?”

“We flirt with each other on national television all the time.”

“I mean that’s true, but it’s not the same and you know it.”

“Yeah,” Finn hummed. “You got any better ideas?”

***

“Today we’ll be working on your baking skills, recruits!” Dorcas cheered, much to everyone’s dismay. “Are you ready to bake some cakes?”

“No.” Logan muttered. He’d tried to make a cake with Celeste for one of the kid’s birthdays one time, and he’d been banned from the kitchen ever since.

“We’ll also be testing your abilities to read recipes, so there will be no demonstration today.” Leo added. “You have two hours to complete this task, and your time starts now!”

“Holy shit!” Finn threw an apron over his neck and frantically began looking for cake pans at his station. “I’ve never made a cake before!”

Logan pre-heated his oven. “I have, and I almost burned the kitchen down.”

Finn cackled, thumbing through the printed recipe. “When was this?”

“Katie’s fourth birthday. We had to call the fire department and everything.”

“Oh, I bet Celeste was so mad.”

“Yeah. Kids thought it was cool, though.”

The two boys started carefully measuring ingredients out: Finn separating his wet and dry ingredients, while Logan kept them all in one bowl.

“Lo, I think you’re doing that wrong.”

Sure enough, Leo had spotted them. “Logan, have you been reading your instructions thoroughly?”

“Yeah.” Logan said absentmindedly, already lost in cornflower-blue eyes.

“So you know that you’re supposed to mix your wet and dry ingredients separately.”

“Yeah, but they’re all going in the same place anyways, so I figured I’d save myself some time.”

“Actually, one of the main points of mixing them separately is to save time.” Finn watched Leo’s eyes light up as he began explaining. “See, when you mix the dry ingredients together and then the wet ingredients, you’ll have very little mixing to do once you combine them. It also helps prevent overmixing your batter. The less you mix the flour, the less the gluten has a chance to develop, so you end up with a fluffier cake.”

Finn kept sneaking glances while he added his ingredients to the stand mixer, watching Leo gesticulate with his hands as he turned the mixer on –

And went straight past the first setting to the sixth.

He shrieked as batter flew everywhere, fumbling with the settings as he tried to turn it off dear god make it stop.

The same hands he’d been watching earlier reached over to brush against his own and switch the mixer off. The silence was startling until it was filled with a laugh.

“General word of advice: start on the lowest power and work your way up.”

Finn turned to see Leo absolutely covered in batter, but still laughing with his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“Got it.” Finn breathed, unable to look away.

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got a little something there.” Logan interrupted, motioning to his face. Instead of waiting for Leo to take care of it he reached up and wiped off the batter himself, letting his finger drag gently across soft skin. Finn’s jaw dropped when Logan put the same finger in his mouth to lick the batter off.

“If it’s any consolation, Finn, your batter tastes good. Too bad it’s all over the kitchen now.”

Leo’s cheeks were so red. “I, uh, I’ve got to – other contestants. Um.” He gave an awkward smile and hurried off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Finn turned to gape at Logan. “Jesus Christ, Lo. Are you trying to kill me?”

Logan sent him a wink and started over on his batter, making sure to mix his wet and dry ingredients separately.

***

Dorcas delicately spit Logan’s cake out onto a napkin after tasting it. “Oh my god, how much vanilla extract did you put in this?”

“I don’t remember? The measuring spoon said Tbsp, I think.”

“Yeah, but the recipe said one teaspoon.”

“Yeah. A Tbsp.”

“No.”

“I mean I can’t taste anything other than vanilla,” Leo said, poking at the cake with his fork. “But the texture is good.”

Logan nodded excitedly. “It should be extra fluffy; I kept my ingredients separate and mixed the batter as little as possible.”

He received a warm smile for that, which was better than any compliment about his cooking.

After a few more contestants were judged, it was Finn’s turn. He watched nervously as Dorcas and Leo cut into it and tried it.

“Finn, this is perfect.”

He blinked. “What?”

“He’s right,” Dorcas said, taking another bite. “It’s light, flavored really well, and the buttercream is perfect. Well done.”

Finn smiled, still confused, but made his way back to his station where Logan gave him a congratulatory fist bump. “Nice one, Fish.”

*** 

Post-Episode Interview

*Dorcas grinning like a maniac while being shown footage from earlier*

Dorcas: The crew and I have termed it “The Batter Incident”. I can’t stop watching it. *she motions to Finn and Logan on the screen* They’re pretty obvious, aren’t they? 

Camera man: How does Leo feel about all of this?

*Dorcas sighs, looking back to the camera*

Dorcas: That’s the question, isn’t it?

*** 

Leo dropped his keys on the island in his apartment, listening to the dial tone on his phone finally stop and his mom’s voice take its place.

“Hi, sweetheart! It’s so good to hear from you! How was your day?”

He swallowed harshly, letting his head hang. “Hey, mama.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

I did it again. I caught feelings for someone who isn’t available. Except now it isn’t just one person, it's two.

“Nothing,” Leo said, staring out his apartment window at the light-polluted sky. “Just a long day.”

#lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #Coast To Coast #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #chop it like it's hot

[gehayi]

It's possible that Tom Riddle seduced Merope Gaunt & later on she lied to get him to marry her or more likely she had symptoms of a false pregnancy & believed she was pregnant which led her to tell him she's with child. Given the social pressures of the time he left with her & the 2 likely eloped with Merope becoming pregnant later on but when Tom learned of this it lead him to abandon her anyways. What is your view on what really happened between Merope Gaunt & Tom Riddle Senior?

It’s possible, sure, that Merope could have lied about being pregnant or could have read the symptoms of false pregnancy wrong . But...well, I’ve been to school with rich privileged kids, and I find it more believable that Tom Sr. found the silent adoration of the ugly daughter of the local hermit amusing enough to exploit. 

I could see him having a bet with his friends about how far he could push this and for how long. I could even see one of his friends dressing up like a minister and Tom going through a mockery of a marriage both to reassure her and to make fun of her. She thinks that it’s strange, of course, but what does she know about how Muggles do things? And meanwhile, Tom Sr. is looking oh-so-serious and he wants this and he wants her and for once in her life, it seems like she has what matters.

Meanwhile, Tom’s friends are stifling their laughter and trying not to meet each other’s eyes for fear that they’ll lose it.

After the fake marriage--who knows how long?--Tom convinces Merope to come with him to London--in April 1926 at the latest. He drives them there, or they take a train. Either way, he arranges the transportation and pays for a hotel room. Maybe he tells her that this is going to be their honeymoon. Maybe he says that they’re going to set up their own house in London. It doesn’t matter to him, as long as the lie works.

Merope isn’t familiar with Muggle cities, Muggle tech of the 1920s, or Muggle money. (She may not even be fully literate; we know that she never went to school and that her father taught her and her brother nothing.)  London is an incomprehensible maze to her. And the hotel room is clean and warm and has soft carpets and pictures on the wall. There’s a box that produces music and stories and news. Lights come on with the touch of a button. And she doesn’t have to cook or clean anything. It’s luxury that she’s never dreamt of. 

To quote the very wise Ursula Vernon, “Relief feels like happiness, if you don’t know the difference.” 

Tom is pleased that she’s so easily satisfied; he doesn’t have to explain to anyone he knows why he’s with this ugly woman. He pays for clothes for her, but he doesn’t take her anywhere. When he’s bored with Merope, he tells her that he has to go out and then parties with his friends. She doesn’t question him. She doesn’t even consider doing so.

In May 1926, there’s a general strike. 

Roads all across Britain become impassible.  Buses have to barricade their windows. The strikers derail the train the Flying Scotsman in Northumberland. The government declares martial law. It even sends a warship to Newcastle. The world has turned upside down.

Merope hears about all this on the radio; it’s her main form of entertainment. She starts peppering him with questions. Why is the strike happening? Why is everyone so angry?

Tom is shaking and tense and can scarcely think coherently. How can these creatures, these underlings, rebel against the orderly system he’s been part of since birth?  And how can this--this daughter of a mere tramp question him?

He yells at her to shut up. He apologizes afterward, and Merope accepts his apology. But the bloom is off the rose now. She knows now that he can be pointlessly cruel, just like her father and brother.

She tries very hard not to know this.

The general strike ends after nine days. Martial law, however, drags on and on. So do transportation problems. And 1.7 million strikers are now out of work. This is not the bright, fun city Tom wanted to visit. 

June arrives. By now Merope’s adoration isn’t as intriguing to Tom, and her pregnancy is starting to show as well.  Like many men and boys of privileged backgrounds, Tom thinks of pregnancy as something that only happens if the woman wills it. He is sickened and outraged that Merope has gotten pregnant--to trap him, he’s sure--and he chews her out for this.

Merope, though, was painfully isolated while growing up. She knew only her father and brother. Her father warned her repeatedly  not to let a Muggle touch her...but he didn’t provide any clarifying details. She had no mother, no sisters, no female friends. She had no education to speak of. Porn was not conveniently available. And she could not read. 

So, faced with Tom’s rage, Merope is at sea, for nothing he says is making sense. She doesn’t know how menstruation, conception and pregnancy work. The world hasn’t bothered to tell her.

Also...partying would have eaten into Tom’s money anyway, but the general strike and its disruption of transportation has made goods like food much more expensive. Though Tom doesn’t want to admit it, his funds are running frighteningly low. He needs the good will of his parents to acquire more cash, and quickly He also needs to square matters with the  rich, upper-class, utterly suitable young woman he’s actually going to marry while assuring her that the Merope situation is no fault of his. 

Arguments begin breaking out daily, then hourly. Tom starts them, taunting Merope’s wall-eyes and ignorance. She despairs when she hears this--after all, mockery and derision are all she’d ever heard from her father and brother.   She loves Tom desperately, but he doesn’t love her.

She doesn’t yell, because she’s been trained since childhood not to. Instead, she begs him frantically, frenziedly not to leave her, because he's the one who knows how to handle this incomprehensible city.  But her panic repels Tom, who sees it as clingy manipulation. It’s only London, after all. There’s nothing to fear.

So one day he returns home--without telling Merope. She's escorted out of the hotel room shortly after that.  He didn’t stiff her with the bill, but not out of kindness. He simply doesn’t want anything, even a bill, tying him to her.

Merope is now alone and adrift in London.  No money. No marketable skills. No transportation beyond her own feet--she has no way of paying for buses or cabs, and she may not even know the Underground exists. And no home.  It’s August, maybe September of 1926.  A rainy August, a mild September.  She’s five or six months along.  And winter is coming.

It comes in October, with freezing cold for most of the month and a snowstorm on the 28th.

She’s been living rough for a month or two. The clothes she’d worn earlier that year aren’t warm enough for October, and the cold has begun to gnaw at her bones. She's starving, too, and by now she knows that countless Muggles, all more qualified for any job than she is, are also out of work, thanks to May’s general strike.

She doesn’t ask anyone else for help. She should, but Tom was the only Muggle she ever really knew--and he betrayed her. She can’t bring herself to  trust another.

And oh, she doesn’t dare go home. Even if she knew where it was and how to get there, her father would beat her to death for polluting the pure line of Gaunt with a Muggle’s get. And her brother Morfin would join in. Happily.

She begs--for food, mostly, though sometimes people give her money. Sometimes, too, they give her advice--to go to a church or a shelter or some government office. Merope nods and smiles and ignores the advice. She’s not going to trust the Muggle government after this past May, and she won’t shelter with dozens of Muggles. That would be suicide.

November 1926 is one of the wettest on record in the UK. Merope falls ill halfway through the month. She’s starting to have trouble breathing, and she’s tired and achy all the time. 

December is filled with bitter, Arctic chill. 

Merope has little strength left. She’s not getting enough air, somehow, and she’s constantly shaking with heat or cold, she doesn’t know which. Her vision is blurry, and even when she can obtain food, it’s hard to keep it down.

You’re dying, a voice says deep inside, and she knows the voice is right.

One day, she spots a building with lots of people caring for babies and children. She asks meekly, and someone--whoever tossed her a sixpence? another beggar?--tells her it’s an orphanage. Merope doesn’t know what that is, but she knows her baby would be better off inside the building than outside it. 

December 31, 1926 is a mild, sunny day. Merope thinks of it as a good omen...until the pains start.

Merope doesn’t know anything about childbirth; she simply feels as if she’s being ripped apart from the inside out. She screams, not even caring if the Muggles hear. 

Somehow, somehow, she manages to limp and crawl to the orphanage. She knocks on the door, which is the bravest thing she’s ever done. But her baby can’t survive a winter on the street. Maybe the Muggles will take care of him if they don’t know his mother was a witch.

She doesn’t even notice that she’s thinking of herself in the past tense.

A woman named Mrs. Cole answers the door and bustles her into a spare bedroom. It’s still unbearably cold, so cold that Merope thinks that her bones will shatter from shaking so hard, but there’s light and color and oh, it reminds her of the hotel room before everything went wrong. And Mrs. Cole is speaking to her in a kind, soothing tone and letting Merope grip her arms when the pains are bad. For the first time since Tom, Merope feels valued. Safe.

Her son is born at a minute to midnight, a scrawny scrap of humanity. Small wonder. Merope’s had little enough to eat for months. He has good strong lungs, though, which pleases her in a dim way. The world seems to be fading away, but that’s all right. She just wants to sleep.

She hears Mrs. Cole asking her something. Not her name--she told Mrs. Cole that before. Oh! The baby’s name.

There’s only one name she could give him--the one Muggle name that means anything to her. 

“Tom,” she murmurs. “Tom...Riddle...Jun--”

And a soothing darkness claims her.

#mrardin85 #ficlet #merope gaunt #merope/tom sr #harry potter #complete disaster

[ateezmakemeweep]

on one condition.

seonghwa x reader; a walk to remember au

word count: 19k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death and terminal illness)

park seonghwa had always been a troubled boy. 

and not in the cheesy, cliche 'bad boy' way, like he's parading around town with a motorcycle and worn leather jacket. 

in the 'he has absolutely no regard for himself or others' type of way. he doesn't care if he hurts himself in an attempt to prove he's the best nor does he care if he hurts anybody with his words or fists.

this all started fairly early in his life, showing questionable behaviors at the ripe age of eleven.

it started with skipping classes, asking to go to the bathroom and then meeting his friend's outside on the field; there had never been a child sent to the principal's office as many times as him that year.

by middle school, it had quickly escalated. 

vandalizing obscene objects and words onto the bathroom stall or spray painting on the back of the school. he was intelligent though, both naturally book and street smart, so he knew to wear black attire and a mask; he was only almost caught once.

his last few years of high school now consist of women and fighting.

because if he wasn't pounding into the newest girl of the week, telling her that that was fun but she knows where the door is, he was smacking some kid's head off the pavement for no other reason than that he could. 

that he had such uncontrollable rage in his body, probably from being stuck with and accustomed to the delinquent ways of his friends, that it was the only thing to make him feel better.

because he couldn't deny it, he didn't like who he was.

you had always been a good girl. 

and quite literally in the cheesy, cliche way: sweaters and a nonexistent dating life and your nose always in a book if you weren't at the church your dad preached at every sunday.

you didn't mind your simple, solitary life. 

you had gotten used to being alone and you didn't ever care when people made fun of you for it. because you liked your sweaters and reading and even spending your days after school tutoring younger kids.

it was a place you went every monday through friday, accustomed to the children and other helpers, mainly teachers, that were in the stuffy school library. 

you were surprised to see none other than park seonghwa walk through the doors one afternoon, looking around at the layout of bookshelves and tables like it's the first time he's ever seeing it.

you tried not to watch him float around the room, a blank expression on his face as he settled for standing in front of the main desk waiting for instruction. he was leaned against the wood with his arms folded and jaw set, a very obvious distaste and annoyance present on the boy.

you continued to work with the younger 7th grader who couldn't quite grasp the concept of solving for x, ignoring the way the head teacher pranced over and spoke hushly to the boy.

"and what exactly are you doing here, mr. park?"

seonghwa felt dread fill him immediately, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the teacher who kicked him out of class everyday back in tenth grade.

"tutoring," is all he says, surprised and ready to punch the older man in the mouth when he lets out a scoff.

because apparently after your third strike for starting a brawl in the cafeteria, the only options were suspension or helping out the very understaffed, depressing after-school programs along with an extra research project.

"how long?" the boy asked the principal who sat across from him, a large man with kind eyes despite the destruction the student in front of him has brought into the school since the day he started.

"the rest of the year, mr. park."

seonghwa's eyebrow raised as he truly considered suspension. 

because at least that would only be two weeks of sleeping in and dicking around, not eight months of excruciating 'volunteer' work with bratty preteens and mundane class work. 

that's why he got up and went towards the doorway, throwing a mock wink at the man.

"i think i'll take the suspension, sir."

but the chipper man laughed like he was told the funniest joke he's ever heard, rising from his throne and walking over to pat seonghwa's shoulder. 

"you'll start on monday in the library."

and now he sees he severely underestimated just how tragic today was gonna be, sitting across from a boy who's just as pissed off as him about being here.

"what do you need help with?" seonghwa finally asks after five minutes of silence, leaning back in his chair as he observes the scrawny boy.  

"i don't know, i don't even need this stupid help," the younger boy snaps, the words already getting under seonghwa's skin. "they forced me to be here."

"well, that makes two of us," he mumbles, his eyes moving to the test paper sticking out of the boy's backpack marker with red x's. "but it seems like you do need help, kid. a 42 is shitty."

your eyes widen hearing those words fall from his mouth, clearing your throat and throwing him a chastising look when he meets your gaze; he only rolls them and moves his stare into the kid's beady, brown eyes.

"now don't waste my time and i won't waste yours. open your book," seonghwa demands, the coldness in his tone visibly throwing off the boy.

you feel your heart grow heavy at the student's dejected, frustrated face, your chest burning with the need to yell at and scold seonghwa.

because that's the last way to approach a child already struggling and getting in trouble by his teachers and parents. 

he needs to be shown the problem in different ways until he finds out which one works for him and that's through someone's patience, kindness and genuine desire to help them - which is exactly what you tell seonghwa when 4:30 rolls around.

"thanks for the advice, y/n, but i think i'll be getting this shit over with my own way," he says, glaring at you before he attempts to leave.

you're quick to squeak out "wait," walking around until you're standing in front of him.

"look, i know you probably don't wanna be here," you tell him softly, gently, like the way you talk to kids who also don't wanna be doing work they don't understand. "but you can't take it out on them. you need to at least be nice and try to help him not only pass but also understand it. that's the whole-"

"I could give a shit if the kid passes or not," he snaps at you, pinched glare roaming over your face. "we're all not perfect little angels like you, y/n."

he's known you since elementary school, has watched you parade around with ugly sweaters and books and entertain the kids people avoid because they either spit on you when they talk or go on for hours about nonsense.

some people might find that commendable, that you give everyone a chance and seem to be completely pure and good, but he finds it incredibly irritating - he always had, watching you grow up through the years and feeling some sense of pity for you. 

because no one could genuinely be that kind and unbothered by the fact that they have no friends. that they smile in the faces of their bullies and give even the weirdest of kids the time of day.

"that's not why i'm saying it, seonghwa," you tell him softly. "i just want you to take this seriously. these kids need help."

"they need help when you're the one tutoring kids for fun," seonghwa scoffs, feeling himself grow more agitated and bitter as he talks down to you. "i don't know if you realize how sad that is."

but then in a strange twist of fate, it feels like you're the one talking down to him. because you can only find it in you to shake your head at him and meet his tense gaze.

"more sad than you needing to be forced to help anyone but yourself?"

whether he wants to admit it or not, your comment rings in his head for the rest of the day. he knows he's selfish and a bit of a dick but hearing it put so bluntly to his face causes his chest to churn uncomfortably.

"what does that bitch know anyway?" hongjoong coughs out after passing him a joint. "she's been a tight ass since birth."

"and it's only gotten worse with age," san says before he lets out a thoughtful hum. "but you know... she'd probably be hot if she wasn't such a prude."

the two boys in front throw him a disgusted look, seonghwa blowing smoke directly in the boy's face. 

"you're that desperate for a fuck, huh?"

san swats at the smoke around his face, rolling his eyes at his friends glassy, red eyes. 

"no! i'm just saying."

seonghwa can only picture you in his mind, sporting your ugly green sweater and worn sneakers, bare face looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and softly spoken words.

"don't see it," the boy grumbles out, hongjoong snorting next to him as he reaches out to grab the joint back.

"you know he could be on to something though," the driver says, placing the paper between his lips. "it's always the quiet ones who are freaks."

"ha, like you'd know pussy boy," san says, earning a loud smack on his mouth. 

seonghwa can only smirk at his two friends, knowing damn well you're the type of girl who's probably gonna die a virgin.

"so what do you know about acute triangles?" seonghwa asks the boy, clenching his fists under the table because how fucking hard is it to remember this?

he'd been working with him for almost two weeks now and he's been slowly making progress. 

some would say that the improvement in itself was a good sign but seonghwa was convinced if the boy had someone more cut out for this, he would've learned it by now.

he wouldn't be staring down at the blank paper with a questioning gaze on his face or religiously spend the first thirty minutes in a tense silence.

"there are....three angles," the boy says, uncertainty laced in his tone; seonghwa can only nod his head because wow, yeah, good job.

"okay. and what about them?"

the boy swallows nervously, eyes boring in to his like he's gonna help him out - he only stares back blankly, raising his eyebrow challengingly. 

and once the student sees that, remembers seonghwa's harshly spoken words reminding him to pay attention in class so they can both stop this bullshit, he blurts out "i don't know!"

seonghwa lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. the boy lets out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his pencil across the room and springing up from his chair.

"fuck this! this is so stupid!"

you watch as seonghwa just stares at the boy with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest and you just know he's trying not to roll his eyes or scream back. 

before the man can say anything 'comforting' back, the younger student stomps off and rips open the library door.

several other kids softly murmur to each other before they get back to work, your eyes moving to seonghwa who hasn't uncrossed his arms. you quietly tell the student you're working with to try the next problem by themselves, walking over to seonghwa and taking the previously occupied seat.

"he's just frustrated," you tell him softly, hoping to ease the obvious tension on seonghwa's face and body. 

you had trouble when you first started too, remember feeling dejected and upset that the kids would get mad, and thinking that you couldn't help them.

his eyes flicker to meet yours but he's quick to look away, seeing the soft compassion and care in them; it always makes him uncomfortable when someone doesn't look at him in disgust or annoyance.

"what do you want from me?"

he misses your face fall ever so slightly, a quiet sigh leaving your mouth as you shrug your shoulders. 

"i just wanna help you, seonghwa," you tell him softly, knowing it's important for both of them to get something out of this. "it might help teaching him in a different way. maybe something he can relate to more."

"and how do you recommend i do that, princess?" he snarls at you, shoving his seat back and stomping towards the exit. 

you notice the head teacher's about to say something when you catch his gaze and shake your head slowly; to your surprise, he lets the boy go with a simple roll of his eyes.

you continue working with your student until 4:30 rolls around, your eyes occasionally moving to the empty table and library door. neither seonghwa nor his student ever came back and it causes a sinking feeling in your stomach.

you wait around for five extra minutes, cleaning the tables and putting your books away before figuring both of the unmotivated boys just ditched. as you're walking out the door to your car, you hear the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing off the gym floor.

so, albeit nosily, you peek your head in and feel your lips quirk up when you see seonghwa's tall frame next to the boy. the two of them are standing a few feet away from the hoop, a rare hint of a smile on the man's face as the both of them move around the floor.

"so this would be a....?" you hear seonghwa ask, the boy immediately responding with "acute angle! and it's less than 90 degrees," who then proceeds to take the ball from him and shoot; in a tragic turn of events, he misses.

seonghwa lets out a playful scoff as he catches the ball with ease.

"used all your brain power for that you can't even get it in, huh?" he teases, throwing the ball with one hand and watching with a cocky smirk as it shoots through.

"you're a showoff," the boy mumbles and you bite your lip so you don't let out a giggle, watching as seonghwa dribbles the ball away from the boy who chases after him. 

you leave the gym as chuckles ring through the air, feeling your heart tug at the fact in all the years you've known seonghwa, you think that’s the first time you've heard him laugh.

you're surprised to see his good mood carries over into the next day. 

sure, he's not being overly happy or nice but he's genuinely helping the student with his work, a focused expression and strong voice as he explains the problems slowly. 

you try to contain your smile, thinking maybe your hope in him isn't misplaced until you decide to tell him he's doing a good job.

"what?"

"you're working well with him," you say softly, turning to wave at the boy when you hear him say goodbye to you both. "he really seems to be getting better."

"yeah," is all he says, tone clipped and short. 

you look over to see his jaw is tight, body defensive and on alert so it's probably in your best interest to not mention you seeing them in the gym yesterday.

"it's hard at first for everyone,” you continue encouragingly. “but then i think once you break that barrier, it's gonna get-"

"why are you talking to me, y/n?"

his short, harsh tone causes your face to fall and for a split second, he feels bad. 

he knows you're just doing what you always do, showing people unwavering decency and kindness, but those are things he, both, can't relate to and finds makes him uncomfortable. 

he doesn’t want you to think just because he helped one kid out that means he's a reformed pupil.

"i just wanted to-"

"well don't," he says, picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "it's bad enough i have to do this. i don't need you talking down to me also."

"i'm not talking down to you/ it's called encouragement, seonghwa."

"then don't encourage me. just ignore me the way i intend to ignore you." 

you're left alone in the library watching the door slam behind him.

and true to his word, he doesn't look your way or entertain conversation with you for the rest of the week. anytime your eyes meet, he'd quickly advert them and makes sure to be out the door the second the clock strikes 4:30.

and today, as you rush to your car in the pouring rain, you mull over in your head what you could have possibly done to the boy to make him so wary of you. 

time and time again, you've just tried to help him. give him advice and make the whole process easier for him but he just lashes out.

then again, you haven't done anything to the general population at school and they still make fun of you. and it's for the stupidest of things: your 'grandma sweaters' apparently the bane of their existence or the fact that you're studious and care about your schoolwork.

you don't allow their words to get to you, though, because you were taught to always be kind and respect others. that if people are mean to you, it's because they're unhappy about something within themselves.

even so, a part of you has always been intrigued by park seonghwa, whether it be because of his obvious good looks or some feeling deep within you that knows he's not as bad as he portrays himself to be. 

through the rain as you think, you see the drenched boy, hood up and head down, as he walks on the sidewalk.

you don’t even think twice about pulling up next to him, roll down your window and ignore the way he side-eyes you.

"do you want a ride?" you ask him quietly, surprised he's even heard you over the roar of the rain; but he's quick to shake his head silently and continue on his way. 

you let out a sigh before following behind him, asking him one more time because he really is drenched and it's starting to get dark and cold.

"you're gonna get sick," you say to him, causing the boy to stop in his tracks and stare you down.

"and what does that matter to you?"

you only raise your eyebrow at him, reaching over to open the door and smiling softly as an invitation. he rolls his eyes as he huffs, looking down at his drenched sneakers and feeling it seep into his socks.

some part deep within him feels ashamed to accept your kindness after the way he's treated you but he gets in and slams the door anyway. a real stand up guy he is.

"happy?" he grumbles. 

you only smirk as you hum softly, eyes peering down to the seatbelt buckle before going back to the road. you feel his gaze on you as you drive, a loud huff leaving him after you stop at the third stop sign.

"what?" you ask, looking both ways before taking your foot off the break.

"how the hell do you get anywhere," he grunts out in annoyance, feeling around in his pocket for a cigarette and agitated when he finds he doesn't have a pack on him.

"it appears i drive like a grandmother, too," you mumble, a snort leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

a few moments of silence pass before you stop at a red light. 

"i don't get you," he suddenly says, causing you to look over at him.

"what do you mean?"

"you really just... don't care about what other people think of you?"

you can't help but smile at the puzzled expression on his face, shrugging your shoulders as you look at him. 

"no."

his eyebrow raises, something about your soft, small smile causing him to squirm in his seat. 

"why not?"

"because why do they matter?" you ask quietly. "while i can, i'm gonna live the way i want."

a quiet hum leaves the boy's mouth, at the time not realizing how strange that sentence was coming from a teenage girl.

he just couldn't understand how a young person would want to live such a sad, quiet life between the covers of books and walls of church. how someone could go on smiling and being happy when they had no friends to make memories with.

"seems like a sad way to live," is all he finds himself saying, a smirk playing at your lips as your brain quips back with a sassy comment - but because you're you, your mouth doesn't open to respond. 

you simply shrug your shoulders again, looking back at the light just as it turns green.

the rest of the ride is silent as you make your way to seonghwa's, asking him a few times for directions until your car is sitting in front of his house.

"thanks, y/n."

"you're welcome, seonghwa."

he turns to you to see your gaze already on him, his eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. you send him a small, innocent, almost unsure smile and he feels himself grow less guarded.

"i'll see you monday?" you ask, slightly uncomfortable by the silence as you two just look at each other with uncertainty. 

the boy next to you shakes himself out of his daze, stuttering out "y-yeah.”

he slams your door shut, not hearing your car pull away until he opens the door to his house.

after your tutoring session, you stayed behind at 4:30 to make a study guide for your student and expected to be the only one there - which is why you were surprised to hear footsteps coming your way and even more surprised when you met the familiar dark eyes of-

"seonghwa," you say as you put your pen down on the table. "what're you still doing here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," he says, peeking at the paper before taking the seat across from you.

that's when you knew he was about to ask for something, like a pardon from this 'stupid volunteer work' (as if you have the authority to do that) or to cover for him one day this week so he can go do whatever normal destruction he does on the weekdays.

because in all the years you've known park seonghwa, he has never initiated a conversation with you.

"i'm making a study guide for my student," you tell him. "she's still having a bit of trouble so i'm hoping this will help her."

he nods his head at you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you write with concentration for a few silent minutes. 

"but i know you don't care about that," you say to him quietly before meeting his intense gaze. "so why are you here?"

he lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair that seems to be out of nervousness - but in what kind of sick, confused world is a man like him nervous to talk to a girl like you?

"i need your help with something."

your eyebrow raises as you look at him, dropping your pen on the table and the noise echoes through the quiet, empty library.

"is... park seonghwa asking for my help?"

he rolls his eyes before blankly staring at you, the dead look in his eye causing you to giggle softly. 

"what do you need help with?"

your giggle and soft tone relax him ever so slightly, popping his neck to the side and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics. 

"i'm- uh, i'm supposed to write a play for my class."

"okay..." you say as you nod your head. "and you need help...writing it? editing it? coming up with ideas?"

his mind starts to swarm with slight panic and uncertainty, completely out of his element and comfort zone. he doesn't know the first thing about writing fucking plays, you couldn't pay him enough money to even sit through one.

"uh...all of it," he says with a wince. "but i know you're like... a theater geek."

you can't help the snort that leaves you, shaking your head as you look at the boy in front of you. 

"a theater geek?"

"not like that," he says, tone desperate and unsure and you can hear how uncomfortable he is asking for help. "i just mean like you're probably...good at that stuff."

"ahh, because i'm a big fat nerd, right?"

his eyes close at the horrific turn this has taken; he can't even ask you for help without insulting you. 

"i didn't mean it like that, y/n."

you watch him for a few moments, hands in his hair as his leg starts to bounce and you decide to finally put him out of his misery. 

“i'm just kidding. i'll help you."

his head snaps up immediately, face once ridden by anxiety and panic full of surprise and relief. "really?!"

"really," you say with a smile. "but i'm only gonna assist you. you have to do most of it, okay?"

"yeah, right, of course," he grunts out, already bored and over this conversation.

"and you have to take it seriously. on the days we do it, you're gonna have to be focused, seonghwa."

"i wouldn't have put myself through this and asked you if i wasn't gonna take it seriously," he grumbles, watching you furrow your eyebrows at him and quickly realizing he's falling into his dick-ish ways before mumbling out an apology. 

"i mean, of course, yeah."

"thank yo-," he says before you cut him off.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly.  he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart; but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

everything in him stills as he looks at you, trying to figure out if you're joking with him until he sees how seriously you're looking at him. he almost feels bad at the blatant laugh that bubbles out of him, his hand coming up to (fakely) wipe his mouth.

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem," he says, humor and amusement heavy in his tone. it doesn't make you feel bad because you just nod your head and shrug your shoulders.

"okay!"

"okay," he says a few seconds later, a small grateful smile on his face. "thank you, y/n."

"you're welcome."

you can't help but smile back because it really seems as if he's trying to better himself now. 

apply himself more and show people that he's more than just some 'cool' guy who gets in trouble. he asked for help and that's the first step in anything required to get better and grow as person.

but sometimes people will ask for help, receive help, and it still won't be enough. 

because just the next day, you see him in the cafeteria with his group of friends. and perhaps it was ballsy of you in the first place to see him and hold his eye contact and greet him with a smile that only led him to divert his gaze.

that should've made it obvious that going over to him was not gonna be a good idea.

but you thought you were seeing a change in him, you were so excited to see him work with the students and take an initiative to do his project, so you walk over and say hi to him.

"hi, seonghwa," you say sweetly, waving at his friends who just look at you with a bewildered expression. "do you wanna start working on your play after tutoring today?"

the second him and his friends let out sarcastic laughs, you know he's about to disappoint you.

"i think you're lost, princess," he says, tone full of venom and spite. "we'd never do anything together."

"unless, of course, you're willing to show him what's under that sweater," his friend next to him says, his eyes roaming over your body and making you back up uncomfortably.

"hongjoong," the tallest one says warningly, like he's probably the only good one within this group.

"oh fuck off yunho, she needs a little fun."

your eyes never leave seonghwa's, the tight, hard look melting slightly since his bickering friends are now distracted. the change in them doesn't make you feel any better, instead nodding your head at him and quietly saying "okay, never mind then. sorry."

the fact that you apologize makes him feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the day, even caused him to lash out at hongjoong for saying that pervy comment to you and then get kicked out of his last class.

which is how he catches you right before tutoring starts at 3:15, grabbing you by the elbow and ushering you into the tiny computer lab against your softly-spoken protests. 

he closes the door behind him and turns to see you staring at him blankly.

"just hear me out, y/n."

"i don't think there's anything to hear out," you tell him softly. "you made it obvious you don't need my help anymore."

you're about to go around him when he grabs your arm again, your body stiffening immediately causing him to let go. 

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't...i shouldn't have done that."

it's like the fact that he knows it was wrong is making it worse. he knew it would hurt you and make him look bad but he did it anyway to prove a point to his friends.

"but you did," you say quietly. "and i know you don't care, seonghwa, but i really thought you were trying to be better."

he lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance; he really knows how to fuck things up.

"i was. i am. that's why i need your help. please y/n."

a group of kids come barreling through, the girl you're working with catching your eye as she takes a seat at the normal table. you meet seonghwa's gaze that's staring down at you, eyes regretful and tense.

you know it's only because now he's not getting something out of you, not because he genuinely cares about you being upset and disappointed.

"the drama teacher is really nice," you tell him softly, sending him a small smile as you tighten your bag around your shoulder. "you could probably sit in with her and get some pointers."

"but i wanted you to-"

he can't even finish his sentence when you move passed him and out the door, his body whirling around to see you wave at the curious younger girl. 

he watches you meet his gaze once more before they flicker back down to the table, your heart sinking every so slightly because you were stupid to think he was capable of changing.

seonghwa was shocked by how much it annoyed him that you were ignoring him. 

that anytime he tried to get your attention, you would just smile dismissively and busy yourself. that you no longer lingered at the end of the day or gave him words of praise and encouragement that used to piss him off so badly.

it, oddly enough, made the next few weeks drag on even longer, his afternoons now an even more dull and dreary experience.

that's why on friday, purely out of selfishness, he ended his session with the boy five minutes early and waited outside the library like some sort of creep; if this was the only way to talk to you, it appeared he was gonna do it.

you open the door to leave, fishing through your backpack for the keys buried at the bottom, and look up just in time so you don't smack right into seonghwa's large frame.

"hi."

you narrow your eyes at him, his body and face lacking its usual confidence and smugness.

"hi."

the two of you just look at one another, your eyes confused and awaiting while his hold a twinge of insecurity and nervousness.

you had been making it a point to steer clear of him these past weeks, dodging him in the hallways and cafeteria when you noticed him and completely avoiding his presence during tutoring.

"are you gonna make me beg?"

your eyebrows shoot up at his lowly spoken words, head turning to the side in confusion. 

"what?"

"i miss your stupid encouragement, okay," he blurts out suddenly. "and i miss talking to you. i want...i want you to help me with my play."

you let out a shaky exhale, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to gauge his mood. he could just be saying all of this to get what he wants and make his life easier.

"what's wrong with the drama teacher?" you ask him. "she's nice. i'll even ask her if you can-”

"she's not you."

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, panicking slightly at how your heart and stomach just reacted; you should not be so effected by him after the way he's treated you.

"that's kind of the point," you tell him, voice strong despite the way you're shaking inside. "it seems as if that's what you wanted the other week."

he lets out an annoyed huff, taking a few steps closer to you and looking straight at you. 

"that was wrong and i'm sorry, y/n, i am," he says to you, watching your gaze soften as he all but begs you. "but i'm trying here. and i need your help."

you truly take the time to assess him, look him up and down to gauge if he really is trying -  you suppose you won't really be able to tell until you start working with him though. 

and you can't ignore the fact that, no matter how he's treated you or anyone else, he's here and genuine and asking for help again.

a sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head at him, cursing the fact that's he's not only handsome but persuasive (or at least sly enough to pick the right victims that can't say no to helping people).

the silence that stretches between you two makes him ready to jump out of his skin, not knowing at all what to make of your flickering eyes and blank expression.

he nearly topples over when you mutter out “fine. but all the same conditions still apply, seonghwa. even if you're...embarrassed to be seen with me, we still have to do the work and-"

"i'm not embarrassed," he's quick to clarify, your eyebrow shooting up at his blatant lie. "i'm not," he repeats.

you shake your head at him before taking out your car keys and swirling them around your finger. 

"well, whatever, it doesn't even matter," you tell him quietly. "just get ready to start working next week, okay?"

the boy nods, thanking you one more time and feeling a twinge in his chest when you smile back and send him a little wave. 

he didn't expect to feel so much lighter after the conversation, no longer having a pit in his stomach or hearing that small voice in the back of his head scream at him.

but because he's not completely reformed, he distracts himself with one of the many girls interested in him or with his friends as they smoke and drive around their boring little town.

the boring little town that has an eerie little cemetery just a few blocks from his house.

most days when he walks home, he goes the opposite way because there's something very unsettling to him about death and dying and mourning. he hadn't dealt with any loss in his life properly, going off the rails when his dad left and then again with alcohol and drugs when his grandpa died.

he was actually buried right in that cemetery and for whatever reason that sunday night, something was telling him to pass by and visit.

he turns the corner and catches the sight of your hair, stopping in his tracks to watch as you open the old, iron gate and walk right in the dark cemetery alone.

"what are you doing," he mumbles curiously to himself, his interest fully peaked as he speeds up his footsteps to follow after you.

he watches you weave in and out of the headstones, backpack in one hand and blanket in the other as you stand in front of a tombstone and bow your head to pray.

if anything makes him more uncomfortable than death, it's religion. 

maybe because he's not sure himself what or who he believes in, fascinated by people who can fully put all of their faith in something that has no proof. 

regardless, he waits until you raise your head and lay out your blanket, placing a few books down next to you as you sit criss-cross style in front of the tombstone.

"so this is how you live on the edge huh? sneaking around a cemetery at night."

you jump at the teasing, deep voice, snapping your head to the side and smiling slightly at the sight of seonghwa. 

he's dressed in his usual all black, a sliver chain hanging from his neck and a beanie over his dark hair - devastatingly handsome, per usual.

"no sneaking," you tell him. "but that's you, apparently. i didn't even hear you come in."

he shrugs his shoulders as he sticks his hands in his pockets, eyes curiously taking in his surroundings. you watch him look around the cemetery with slight discomfort, his eyes focused on the back corner where a large oak tree stands.

"so were you actually following me?" you ask him, causing him to rip his gaze and look down at you. "or are you here to see someone?"

a few beats of silence pass before he answers.

"would it be weird to admit i followed you?"

a smile covers your face, teeth in your bottom lip as you try to contain a laugh. 

"not much weirder than me spending my sunday night in a cemetery, i suppose."

a short, deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he rocks on his feet, looking down at his boots so you don't see his own smile forming. 

"guess that's true,” he mutters lowly but you’re able to somehow catch it. he looks up when he hears your hand tapping on the blanket-covered ground. 

"you can sit, if you want."

for whatever reason, he accepts the invitation immediately. he keeps a good distance between the both of you, his butt just hanging off the edge as he can't help but stare at the headstone in front of him.

he wouldn't dare ask about it because how can he just so casually ask which dead relative of yours you're sitting in front of?

"my mom," you say quietly, because it's hard not to know what he's thinking. "she died giving birth to me."

his eyes widen at your confession, a low curse leaving his mouth. 

"shit."

you nod your head, placing your chin on your hand as you look at the death date. 

"yeah. it's always a little weird to see my birthday as the day she died."

seonghwa watches your face as you look at the tombstone, surprised not to see sadness or sorrow but the same look of compassion and pureness that always seems to be on your face. 

and now with the glow of the moon on you, he's realizing that you are kind of pretty. in a unique, natural way but pretty nonetheless.

if he thought he was surprised to be thinking these thoughts at a moment like this, he's even more surprised when he finds himself asking, "why do you come here then?"

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, it’s also something that some get uncomfortable with or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. you don’t want him to misconstrue your gaze on him so you quickly look back at the grave as you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll just read."

he nods his head again, looking over at the grave and wondering how much this piece of stone has heard about your life.

do you tell it how people treat you at school? how much you volunteer your time to help others and make them better? maybe even how you've been trying to help him but might see him as a lost cause.

he hears the sound of a paper rustling and turns his head to see you, pen in hand, scribbling down something on your book; even though it's nosy and intrusive, he peaks over out of curiosity.

"bucket list?" he asks aloud. 

a smirk pulls at your lips as you nod your head silently, scribbling down a #4 on the page.  "do you have one?" you ask him quietly, meeting his eyes that are boring into the side of your face.

"can't say i do," he hum, "although i definitely have a lot of stuff i wanna do."

"like what?" you ask, trying not to show just how interested you are in finally getting to know something about this elusive boy. it falls flat when you see him lower his head and shrug his shoulders, immediately closing himself back up.

"i don't know," he mumbles, suddenly feeling embarrassed and on the spot.

you let out a small giggle, turning the page and ripping out a piece of paper before handing it to him. he looks down in surprise before taking it from your hands, your fingertips brushing and he can't help but notice how cold your skin is.

"writing it down might help."

you place the pen in between you both, letting the book lie on your lap as you lean back on your hands; his eyes can't help but fall down to peak at the page.

"fall in love, get married, see the ocean," you hear his deep voice read before he sees ".....get a tattoo?!" he asks, voice raising slightly as he looks at you in surprise.

"is that so hard to believe?" you ask, a mock expression of hurt on your face. he chuckles trying to picture you with a sleeve of tattoos, your pastel pink sweater rolled up your arms and showcasing an array of colors.

"kind of, yeah," he laughs out, smiling when your own giggles rings through the cold night air.

"why do you even have one though?" he asks a few moments later, trying to distract himself from the way your giggle just made his heart swell. 

"don't only people who are like..." he cringes as he remembers you are both sitting surrounding by corpses. "don't you only make these when you're gonna die? get news that you have like a year left to live or something?"

and just like in the car that day, he doesn't think about how sadly cryptic your answer is. how odd the dreary words sound coming from the mouth of a high school girl whose only cares should be about prom or college acceptance letters.

"i could only have a year left to live," you tell him softly. "i could even only have a month left. you never really know, do you?"

he can only nod his head, furrowing his eyebrows because while your words ring true. 

"that's pretty fucking morbid, y/n."

a small chuckle leaves your mouth at his profanity, shrugging your shoulders as you turn around to look at him. 

"i guess but it's true though," you say, moving your hands side to side like you're showcasing a house and not a cemetery full of rotting bodies. "after all, look around."

a loud, surprised laugh leaves seonghwa's mouth as he looks at you, shaking his head half in amusement and half in astonishment - he’s never met anyone like you in his life.

"good point," he says, biting down on his lips desperate to quirk up into a large grin.

it's an odd place and time to spend the rest of the night sharing shy smiles and glances but it happens nonetheless.

by the end of the night, you're both convinced of something: you only further confirming your suspicions that this boy is so much more than the person he portrays himself to be and seonghwa thinking that maybe grandma sweaters and bucket lists aren't that bad after all.

the more you talked and spent time with seonghwa, the more you saw how great he was. 

you figured that night at the cemetery was a fluke, that if you ever dared mentioning it or tried to make it happen again he’d laugh in your face or feign confusion. 

so the surprise that ran through you when, at lunch, he plopped down in the seat across from you was truly overwhelming. you had looked side to side in confusion, thinking that maybe his friends all went out or that your budding friendship was all one big practical joke.

but his friends looked just as confused, eyebrows pinched together as they whispered and hit one another.

“your friend’s look confused,” you say quietly. “you should probably go back.” 

but without missing a beat, he just shrugs and takes out a tattered black notebook.

“fuck them.”

your eyes widen at his vulgarity, watching him with a curious, slightly cautious gaze before it softens as he meets your eyes. he holds out his book for you, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“i...wrote some of the beginning last night. do you wanna read it?”

the smile that lights up your face has that familiar twinge in his heart appearing, excitedly nodding as your fingertips brush when you take it. 

“the prologue,” you correct him gently as you read his opening lines. 

“the what?” he asks. 

a little giggle leaves your mouth as you continue to read, missing the way his eyes soften as he looks at you with admiration - but his friends don’t miss it. 

don’t miss the way he chooses to sit with you everyday for the next few weeks, the way your hands brush as you make edits on your paper and the way his eyes never leave you as you read over his corrections. 

“i’m gonna ask you straight up,” mingi asks when he’s over seonghwa’s one night. “what’s going on with you and church girl?”

the boy can only look up from his notebook, shaking out his aching hand as he raises his eyebrow at the boy. 

“what?” 

the taller boy can only roll his eyes, going over to the open window as he lights a cigarette. 

“you like her.”

“mingi...” seonghwa says warningly, not wanting to get into this right now; they’d been giving him shit every chance they got, poking fun at his newfound desire to succeed in school.

“i’m not giving you shit, i just wanna know,” the boy says, “because it seems pretty obvious.”

seonghwa rests his feet on his desk as he looks over at the boy, letting out a sigh when he sees how genuine and indifferent he looks. 

“i might,” he says because it’s a fact he’s been mulling over since that night at the cemetery. 

ever since then, he’s been overwhelmingly eager to see you and please you. 

he keeps wanting to show you time and time again that he’s capable of doing this work and tutoring the kids. keeps wanting to see that happy smile that lights up your face or your soft voice squealing about how good his play is coming along.

“you might,” mingi laughs out, blowing smoke out the window as he shakes his head. “you absolutely do.” 

“i’m gonna push you out that fucking window,” seonghwa grunts, a smirk crossing the boy’s face as he shakes his head.

“that’s not very holy of you,” his friend says, sarcasm and teasing in his tone. “what ever would y/n say if she found out you-” 

mingi’s words are quickly cut off by high-pitched yells as he watches a cup of pencils and pens go hurling towards him. 

and whether it be a twist of fate or just pleasant circumstances, tutoring sessions on one friday afternoon are cancelled for construction in the library. 

the both of you look at one another and somehow know it’s mutually decided that you’re gonna work elsewhere, even though it’s friday and there’s a party going on at his friend san’s house.

“we only have to work for an hour,” you tell him as you guys step outside the school. “i know there’s a party tonight.”

“do you wanna come with me?” he blurts out before he can even stop himself, shocking the both of you. 

the boy would laugh at the terrified, wide-eyed expression on your face if he wasn’t so thrown off by how quickly and impulsively he asked that. 

“i...uh...don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say quietly, eyes trained on the floor shyly. you nearly fall right down when you feel his hand on your jaw, lifting your face so your glossy, nervous eyes meet his.

“nobody would mess with you if i was there,” he says lowly, the protective, confident words causing you to swallow nervously. you only shake your head slightly, the feeling of his hand on your face so foreign and bare-minimum but sending your heart into overdrive. 

“it’s not that, i’m just... i wouldn’t do well there.”

i wouldn’t be allowed.

his eyes search yours for any hint of a lie, that maybe you actually wanna go but fear that stupid girls or guys would make fun of you for whatever idiotic reason they can think of tonight. 

your small smile assures him even further.

“i probably wouldn’t do well there tonight, either then,” he says, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at his eyes shining with certainty. you’re about to ask him to clarify when he removes his hold on your face, taking your smaller hand in his cautiously.

“what are you-”

“you drive here today?” he asks and you can only find it in you to shake your head. 

“we’ll walk to my house then?” 

you stare blankly at him before looking down at your intertwined hands, feeling a blush creep on your face as you’re successfully rendered speechless. 

you hadn’t really know what to expect or feel holding someone’s hand but it definitely wasn’t this feeling of closeness and warmth and excitement. 

when you look up and he sees the pinkness on your cheeks, he can’t help but smile. 

seonghwa looks down at you questioningly, raising his eyebrow and looking at you until you stutter out “ye-yeah that’s..good.” he intertwines your fingers and pulls you along the sidewalk, holding your hand and occasionally looking down at you the entire way to his house. 

he ends up missing the party that night in exchange for writing, editing and playfully rehearsing his lines with you. his chuckle fills the room when you dramatically read his lines, giggles leaving your mouth when he cringes at the fact he wrote some of this dialogue. 

he drove you home after the sun had set, your hands intertwined as they rest on the console. shy gazes and quiet giggles fill the car, your softly spoken “goodnight seonghwa,” ringing through his head for the rest of the night. 

and then much to his dismay, after three months of preparation and work with you, his play was due. 

you had worked together in the library one last time, your encouragement and assurance that he would absolutely get an a filling the boy with an unfamiliar feeling of pride and excitement. 

he had worked hard, you both had worked hard, and he’d never been so excited to hand in an assignment in his life; it all had paid off because he was able to showcase a big, 100% to you in red ink.

“seonghwa!” you squeal, clapping your hands in the empty library and throwing your arms around him without a second thought. “i told you you were gonna do amazing!”

he can’t even think about your words with your arms around him, the feeling of your body against him the final confirmation for him that he 100% absolutely likes you (as mingi so juvenilely put).

you feel his body stiffen and realize what you’ve done, quickly drawing your arms back and flushing as you quietly apologize. 

but just as the words leave, his arms are around you and your head rests on his chest. once you’ve recovered from the shock, you allow your own arms to slowly go back around him, the two of standing in the empty library wrapped in each other’s arms. 

it’s a strangely intimate hug for just a good grade on a paper, your arms tight and hearts pounding as you feeling a buzzing in the air changing everything you’ve worked to build over these past months. 

“do one more thing for me, y/n?” you hear him lowly ask in your ear. 

you meet his gaze nervously, biting your lip as you stare at him with a wide-eyed gaze. “what?” you squeak, your voice barely coming out. 

“let me take you on a date.”

convincing your father to allow you on a date was one thing but convincing your father to allow you on a date with park seonghwa was damn near impossible. 

“dad,” you whine for the twentieth time that day.

“y/n, i’m telling you, i’m not comfortable with this.”

“you’re not even giving him a chance, dad,” you tell him softly at the table, your eyes trained on the clock that reads 6:50. “he’s gonna be here in ten minutes.”

whether your dad approved or not, you were going on this date. 

you had gone your whole life without dating or boys or even having a crush and now you were overwhelming ready to try it out. despite your nervousness and despite the fact you have absolutely no experience, you’re excited.

seonghwa has brought out something in you that was suppressed for so long, that you only read about in books or watched in other couples - now with your shy smiles and intertwined hands under the table at lunch, you’re convinced that he’s your first love. 

“y/n, i’m uncomfortable with this for more than one reason,” he says, sadness and apprehension in his tone; it makes your heart sink a little bit. 

why does he have to bring this up now? why can’t he just let you have one night to be a normal teenager?

“why, dad?” you ask, voice far too even and calm even though you already know where this is headed. he can tell too, because he grabs your hand from across the table and squeezes it apologetically. 

“i’m not trying to upset you,” he says, “i just don’t know if you should start something when...”

“i’m fine though. i feel fine.” 

his face turns into one of shock and confusion, not once hearing you snap at him; that’s when he notices that you look...different. 

a short-sleeved dress over your figure with a hint of blush and mascara on your face. your eyes flickering to the clock and door before back to him and he feels his heart pull in his chest. 

“i know you do,” he says, pulling his hand back and running it through his thinning hair. “you didn’t tell him, did you?”

“of course not,” you quickly get out. “there’s no need to tell him.”

“no need to-” the words die in his throat so he doesn’t start a fight or upset you just minutes before your first date. 

he knows that if you actually accepted to go out with a boy, you have to like him and there has to be some sort of...connection between the two of you. 

“what if this gets more serious?”

a knock at the door causes you both to jump, your neck snapping over to see seonghwa’s handsome face through the window. 

“then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” you tell him, voice serious and hushed. “just... please be nice, okay? he’s important.”

and with that, your dad watches you open the door and greet seonghwa with a smile, ushering him in as you giggle when he says something lowly. you drag him over by the hand, seonghwa and your dad standing only a few inches away from one another a sight you’d truly thought you’d never see.

“hi sir,” seonghwa says, his voice deep but friendly as he outreaches his had. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m-”

“park seonghwa,” the older man finishes, taking the boy’s hand roughly and shaking it before dropping his hold. “i see your mother church every sunday but i can’t say the same for you.”

“dad,” you whisper, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“it’s okay, y/n,” seonghwa says quietly before he looks your dad in the face. “i...probably should go more but-”

“no need to explain yourself to me, i was just saying,” he tells him, watching the way seonghwa’s face falls slightly and you narrow your eyes at him. “where are you guys going tonight?”

“just dinner, like i told you,” you say, voice tight and arm grazing seonghwa in an attempt to bring him comfort; even if he doesn’t need comfort, you need his skin on yours to ground you. 

your dad meets his gaze, causing seonghwa to quickly confirm the plans.

“yeah, just dinner,” he says, comforted by your arm touching his. “i borrowed my mom’s car.”

a quiet hum leaves your dad’s mouth and seonghwa feels the nervous pit in his stomach growing, like he’s judging him for being a possible satanist who still borrows his mommy’s car.  

even if he was thinking that, he smiles warmly at the both of you before reminding him to have you home by ten. 

“will do, sir,” he says, already telling himself to have you home by 9:55 so if anything, he’s at least punctual. you all but drag seonghwa out of the house, waving to your dad and thanking the boy quietly when he opens the car door for you. 

he starts the car and there’s a few moments of silence before he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“he hates me.”

you let out a soft giggle as you shake your head, tapping his arm playfully. 

“he doesn’t, he’s just...protective.” 

seonghwa only looks at you, completely unconvinced if the blank stare he’s giving you is any indication. 

“okay, maybe a little,” you agree softly, the boy rolling his eyes away from you despite the smile on his face. 

you watch him drive and admire his sharp features, wondering how and why on earth this boy asked you on a date in the first place. he turns to look at you when the light turns red, his eyebrow quirked up when he sees you’re staring at him. 

“what?”

“nothing,” you say, shaking your head before you shyly say. “i just can’t believe you asked me on a date.”

he bites his lip to hide his smile, taking his hand off the wheel and taking your hand in his. 

“you look pretty,” he says suddenly, causing you to sharply inhale and nearly choke on air. 

you never imagined someone other than a family member or elderly woman at church calling you pretty, completely thrown off and unsure how to respond. the pinkness creeping up on your cheeks is a dead give away that it’s effecting you, his eyes roaming over your face as his smile finally breaks through.

“really pretty.”

and so you don’t completely go mute and dumb, you tease “it’s just because i’m not in a grandma sweater.” 

he only rolls his eyes and taps you on the nose. “i’ve come to really like those grandma sweaters.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth and he can only smirk as he looks back at the road. 

the light turns green and your heart flutters ever so slightly when instead of disconnecting your hands, he brings it to his lips to press a soft, sweet kiss.

your hands don’t disconnect when he pulls up to the restaurant nor when you walk in and wait to be seated. 

you look around at the other couples in the area and that’s when it hits you that you’re one of them. that right now, you’re on your first date and have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. 

“what’re you looking at?” he quietly hums in your ear, watching you look around at the other young couples embraced in a handhold or back hug. 

“nothing,” you say quietly before looking up at him. “i just... i’ve never been on a date before.”

his lips press against your head and you hear him laugh against it, your eyebrows furrowing as you smack his stomach lightly. 

“stop laughing,” you whine.

“but you’re cute,” he hums lowly. 

he hears you let out a sigh and disconnects his lips from your head, taking your cheeks in his hands and ignoring the way your eyes widen at the contact.

“just take a breath for me, okay?” he says lowly, staring down at your wide-eyed gaze and feeling such an overwhelming desire to kiss you. “it’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“but i don’t kn-”

“seonghwa, table for two,” a female voice interrupts. his eyes widen teasingly as a quiet gasp leaves his mouth. “let’s go, baby.”

and, of course, he was right. 

it was fine. 

the second you sat down and looked over the menus, you fell into a natural and teasing conversation that carried on for the rest of the date. everything was always light-hearted and fun, never delving into serious topics or issues. 

he paid the bill after eyeing you the second you pulled out your wallet, a blush crossing your face as you quietly mumble out your gratitude. he took your hand in his, you shyly looking down and watching your fingers intertwine as he leads you through the parking lot.

“where are we going now?” 

you look up at him and see him watching you with a small smirk, probably from the permanent blush on your face, and relishing in the fact that he’s the one that put it there. 

"you’ll see.”

the two of you walk hand-in-hand across the street, tiny squeals leaving your mouth as seonghwa abandons the crosswalk signs and runs straight across. low chuckles leave his mouth as he tightens his hold on your hand, dragging you in front of him and shaking his head.

“you think i’m gonna let you get hit by a car?”

“i just don’t know why you couldn’t wait,” you say, amusement in your voice. “do you have to always prove you’re just such cool rule-breaker?” 

his eyes widen at your uncharacteristic snark, a smirk playing at his lips that only makes your small, smug smile grow wider. 

“rule-breaker, huh?” he hums. “is that what you really think of me? i got a 100 on my play, you know.”

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you roll your eyes playfully, your heart soaring because you just know how proud he actually is of that. something about it is so cute, that he now knows he’s capable of succeeding and doing well.

“oh right, i’m sorry,” you tease, looking up at him to admire his smiling face in the setting sun. you don’t know if it’s just because you hadn’t known him well or only saw him in bad situations but you never noticed just how sweet his smile is. 

you see the exact moment something in his eyes change, your gaze following his before you let out at tiny gasp.

to all the places this boy could’ve taken you, like some sort of underground ring or a crazy house party, you’re both standing in front of-

“a playground?” you squeal, trying to contain the childlike excitement building in you. 

“yeah, is that stupid?” he asks, an unsure smile on his face as he looks down to gauge your reaction. he watches your eyes traveling from the swings and slides, feet wiggling beneath you and feels his heart soften even more. 

your neck then snaps up to look at him, a shy smile on your face as you quickly shake your head. 

“not at all,” you say, tightening your hold on his hand. “i just wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“and why’s that?” he asks, dipping his head ever so slightly as his words fan over your ear. “it’s against the rules to go into a playground at sunset.”

your eyes widen when you look up at, a tiny scoff leaving your mouth. but before you can get the words out to chastise him, he pulls you towards the fence that is short and easy enough for you both to climb over.

“are you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa asks, bent down with his hands on your knees, watching you breathe heavily as you sit on the swing.

the two of you had run around the playground like children, racing down the slide and then chasing after each other when one of you lost. 

you squealed as he caught you around the waist, his hands digging into your hips and nearly making your heart explode. he was always quick to loosen his hold and take his hands off of you afterward, demanding a rematch as you watch him run up the steps. 

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, leaning your head against the cold chain and flooding with relief. “just out of shape.”

a scoff leaves seonghwa’s mouth as he watches you carefully; you don’t look out of shape. 

“i’m fine, seonghwa,” you whine, feeling his gaze still on you. he only narrows his eyes, rubbing your exposed skin before standing up and plopping down on the swing next to you. 

the two of you swing in a comfortable silence for a few moments, admiring the dark sky and singing cicadas. head still on the chain, you turn yourself to look over at him and he must feel your gaze because he does the same, eyes roaming over you because he doesn’t like how lethargic you’ve become.

“thank you for asking me on this date,” your soft voice says suddenly. “i...i had a lot of fun.” 

he watches your cheeks warm with a smile, holding his hand out for you to grab again. 

you take it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing at how small and bony it feels in your hand - have you always been this small?

he pushes down the thoughts because he doesn’t wanna ruin this moment, be distracted from the soft smile on your lips and the pink on your cheeks.

“yeah?” he hums. “i felt some pressure, being that it was your first and all.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth as you shake your head. 

“well it was perfect so good job,” you say, “another 100.”

he snorts at your nerdy comment, turning his face away to hide his smile and look at the rest of the playground. 

he hadn’t come to this playground in years, remembering it so vividly from his childhood. how it seemed so big and scary, like some sort of deathtrap that he could only handle because he had someone next to him.

“i used to come here a lot, you know.”

“oh yeah?” you ask, voice happy and light as you picture a young, exuberant seonghwa. 

“mhm,” he hums, a lump suddenly in his throat as if it’s begging him not to say his next few words. some part of him wants to tell you, break down some unfamiliar, vulnerable side of him in an effort to show he really is trying for you. 

and what better way to do that than woefully spilling about his absent father? 

but then when he finally says, “i used to come here with my dad,” he wishes he hadn’t. it’s embarrassing and kind of humiliating to talk about these types of things with a person you’re starting to-

“that’s sweet,” you tell him softly, smiling over at him warmly. “he sounds like a good dad.”

“he left us a few years after.”

your body stills and veins run cold when those words leave his mouth, your heart tugging in your chest at the sad, short way he says it. 

“oh.”

an awkward chuckle leaves his mouth as your surprised response, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously in fear that he just ruined the vibe between you both. before he can try to backtrack, however the hell one could backtrack something like that, he feels your hand squeeze his. 

“i’m sorry.”

he looks over at your soft, sympathetic gaze and smiles sadly, feeling the overwhelmingly need to cup your cheek and brush over your soft skin.

“not your fault,” he says. 

you move further into his touch, swallowing at the way his eyes roam over your face.

“well, it’s not yours either,” you squeak out, unsure of what exactly to say to comfort him but wanting to so bad. 

because sometime within these months, you’ve discovered what a kind, sensitive person he actually is. how all of his troublesome behaviors and bullshit was just covering up for the fact he was sad and frustrated and maybe a little lonely.

he lets out a scoff, that overwhelming urge to kiss you coming back with a vengeance.

“where were you years ago,” he laughs out, thinking back to his middle school self creeping through the schoolyard and etching his rage onto the brick of the school. 

because for some reason, the boy had convinced himself it was all his fault.

that his dad had gotten tired of his bad grades and snarky backtalk and the fact that he never listened to him. it took him up until a few years ago, when the sadness turned to anger, that he knew his dad left purely due to the fact that he was just an asshole.

you smile sadly watching him stare blankly, knowing his mind is probably going to all sorts of sad places. to a time in his life where he blamed himself and didn't know how to properly cope. 

if you had known, you would've done what you did now. offer him your support and friendship and let him know someone will be there for him.

"i'm here now though," you remind him quietly, moving the swing back and forth, in sync with the way your thumb starts gently brushing over his hand. 

it's like he needed that touch to bring him back to reality, his blank eyes turning to look at you and wonder if you're even real.

the way he's looking at you causes you to nervously fidget, the intense softness of his gaze making your stomach and heart go into frenzy. so much so that you shyly look away, focusing on the way your hand always looks so small in his.

you feel him bring his swing closer to yours, holding himself right beside you and lifting your chin gently. his gaze immediately falls to your lips and you let out a shaky, nervous exhale, your eyes darting across his face because you've definitely read about this before.

the buzzing energy before a kiss, the way someone's eyes lower and tongues dart out to lick at their lips.

"i wanna kiss you," you hear him mumble, his eyes moving to yours and his heart dropping when he sees your wide-eyed gaze. he also sees a hint of curiosity though, a hint of the same desire and need in yours.

you swallow again, your own eyes falling to his lips before back up to him. 

"i... might be bad at it,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat.

if your statement didn't make his heart hurt in the best way possible, your eyes proved to be the bigger weakness. proved to make a smile spread across his face, a short chuckle leaving his mouth as he shakes his head at you.

"that's not possible," he hums, his gaze boring right into you, like he's waiting for any sort of permission. 

after you let out another shaky exhale and close your eyes, you feel his lips press lightly against yours.

and while it's a careful, slow kiss, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's perfect. 

that it makes your insides warm and flutter and brings an immediate blush to your face. that after a few moments, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and makes you feel like that was the nicest thing to ever happen to you.

you take a few calming breaths before opening your eyes, dropping them shyly when you see him looking right at you.

"see," he mumbles, placing a kiss on your cheek, and then the other, before a finishing one on the tip of your nose. "not possible."

a flustered, girlish giggle leaves your mouth that he can't help but also laugh at, rising from his spot on the swing before standing in front of you with his hand outreached.

"what?"

his lips turned into a frown before he kneels down in front of you again, placing his hands on your bony knees. 

"as much as i don't wanna leave you right now, i gotta get you home."

true to his word, he gets you home five minutes before ten, silently hoping your dad notices and logs in it the back of his mind where his lack of church attendance is also stored.

because even though he sleeps in on sundays and kissed his daughter two more times, he's really hoping he'll be okay when he comes to pick you for date number two next week.

date number two turned into date number six and then over the next few months, you both had started to lose count.

if you weren't together at your house, doing homework and midterm projects in the living room, you were at the cemetery or playground. 

leaned back against his chest on a blanket, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hums quietly against your head. his hands grazing the small of your back as he pushes you on the swing and watches you tip your head back in the air.

tonight's date, however, was a surprise. 

he had told you on monday to clear your schedule for saturday, silencing you with a peck of the lips any time you pressed him further. your constant questioning served to be of no use because even in the car on your way to the surprise, he wouldn't budge.

if anything, he made it worse by then whipping out a blindfold and securing it around your face at a red light.

"do you trust me?" he had asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you only let out a sigh, lips turning into a pout because "of course i do." 

that right there sealed your fate for being completely blind for the next twenty minutes.

you feel the the car suddenly stop, the scent of salt hitting your nose through the open window and making your eyebrows furrow together; you had never smelt anything like this before.

"i'm gonna get out and open your door, okay?" he tells you, the sound of his door shutting quickly followed by yours opening. 

you reach out your hand for him to grab, a foreign softness under your sneakers when you step out. he guides you for a few minutes with your blindfold still on, letting out huffs and grumbles every now and then that were silenced by his laughter.

and then when you hear what sounds like crashing water and the loud chirp of a seagulls, you hear his voice from behind you tell you take it off. 

a gasp leaves your mouth that lights up his entire face.

"number three, see the-"

"ocean!" you squeal, turning around to throw your arms around him gratefully. his laugh is muffled against your head, lips pressing a kiss on top on your hair.

"thank you, seonghwa," you say, tightening your arms around him as you press your chin into chest, looking up at him with a bright, excited smile. he can only find it in himself to smile back, take your face in his hands and place another full kiss on your lips.

luckily, your kissing has gotten a lot better with practice. 

pressing up on the tips of your toes to deepen it, your mouths gliding and parting as a breeze from the ocean hits both of you. when you pull apart, his eyebrow raises mischievously, both at your new found boldness and the prospect of exploring the ocean, so he takes your hand in his.

"you're welcome, baby. now let's go."

he pulls you toward the water as your giggles ring through the salty air, squealing when you feel the freezing water on your bare feet and jumping in seonghwa's arms when a big wave splashes up and hits your leg.

he completely uses that to his advantage, tightening his hold on you and running further out into the ocean. he doesn't care that his pants get soaked and his feet go numb, because your loud laugh and squeals of his name have come to be his favorite sound.

you eventually jump down and deal with the consequences that are freezing bones and a wet dress, running away and splashing through the ocean before he catches you by the waist and twirls you around.

but then he notices that concerning, lethargic wave hit you when you grab onto his arm, something he’s been noticing more and more of these past few weeks together. 

he quickly ushers you out of the ocean, guiding you onto the towel that he laid out as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"what happened?" he asked, voice full of concern. "are you okay?"

you insist the you're fine. that the waves of the ocean were rough and that you're not used to it. 

you push him down when he asks again if you're okay, allowing your head to rest on his chest and watching the waves crash onto the shore as the sun sets below the horizon.

"i can't believe you took me to the see the ocean," you mumble against his chest, still in disbelief that this is the same seonghwa you've known your whole life. 

the same seonghwa who constantly wore a pissed off expression, punched anyone who looked at him funny and yelled at you during tutoring.

"i like to see you happy," he says, his words genuine, without a single hesitation which makes you burrow your head and smile into his wet shirt. "which is why i have another plan for us."

you perk up at this words, lifting your body and sitting cross-legged beside him. "another surprise?" you squeak excitedly, reminding him of a child on christmas day.

"yup, another surprise for my girl," he says teasingly, sitting up to peck your cheek. "and if you say yes, you'll be my tattooed girl."

he has to keep his poker face on but it proves to be a challenge with the way your face drops, eyes wide and skin paling as you stare at him blankly. "wh-what?"

"yeah, i figured we'd just cover number four too," he says sweetly, faking it just a little bit to sell his point. "so i looked up tattoo shops around here and-"

"what?!" you squeal out again, feeling panic start to creep in your veins. "seonghwa! i-i can't actually-"

"but why not, baby?" he asks, the smirk tugging at his lips uncontrollable. "it's on the bucket list."

"okay, yeah, but you don't have to do everything on it."

his eyes narrow at you, tapping you on the nose that you naturally scrunch. 

"i think you do when there's only four things on it." 

your eyes remain wide and panic-stricken, staring at him mouth agape like he's grown five heads.

"seonghwa," you manage to get out, "you have to be- you're joking, right? you have to be joking. i can't go home to my dad with a freakin'-"

your words halt when you watch him throw his head back in laughter, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you into him. 

"of course i'm joking, baby. do you really think i'd bring you home with a freakin' tattoo?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you push him over, slapping his chest playfully and yelling at him for being so mean and scaring you. he's quick to push you onto your back, holding himself above you and peppering kisses over your face and cheeks as an apology.

"that's why i got these," he says after he pulls back, fishing in the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out five white cards. your eyebrows pull together in confusion, lifting yourself up and gasping when you see an array of temporary tattoos.

"these are perfect!" you squeal, taking them in your hand and examining each of them as if they're not gonna fall off by the time you get home; after careful consideration, you pick out a purple butterfly.

"i want this one. you pick now," you tell him with a smile, laughing when he goes with the identical butterfly in pink. the both of you run to the ocean, securing your tattoos in matching spots with cold salt water.

"this is so nice, imagine i really got one," you say, twisting your wrist as you hold your arm out in front of you. you look over to see him watching you softly, feeling a blush creep up on your face.

"what?" you say, shy embarrassment suddenly in your tone.

"nothing," he says causing you to shrug and look back at your tattoo.

his brain screams at him that he has to tell you, that this night can't end without him telling you and that it’s most definitely not nothing.

ten minutes later, with your head resting against his chest watching the steady ocean waves gain, he quietly says your name. 

you hum questioningly against his chest, feeling your eyes grow heavy at the tranquility of... everything. of his presence and the ocean and the way your life just seems so-

"i love you."

and just like that, all the tranquility is gone.

you rip your head away from his chest, eyes darting to his to see such raw vulnerability and love shining in his eyes. you can't control the way your own widen, the way your heart and stomach twist and turn into knots and make you feel even more nauseous than usual.

because he can't love you. he can't. 

something could happen at anytime and take you away from him and then what's gonna happen? you can't be responsible for hurting him and making him feel sad, even if you're-

"now would be a good time to say something," he says lowly, feeling his heart sink at the evident panic on your face.

but then he starts to panic when he sees your eyes fill with tears, backing away from him slightly as you shake your head at him.

“y/n?” he asks, holding his hands out as he walks closer to you, proving he’s not a threat to you.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly. because he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart. but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem."

"i.. i told you not to fall in love with me."

his heart sinks at the flashback, watching tears stream down your face and not being able to help the way he reaches out and takes you in his arms. he thinks you're probably just scared and vulnerable, not used to the feeling of loving someone and giving another person your entire self.

but neither is he.

and that's why, with his lips against your head, he tells you not to be scared.

 that he'll wait until you're ready to say it back and that you'll learn to do this together. 

he thinks it must calm you down a little because your arms wrap around his waist and you burrow your face in his damp shirt, muffling your cries and sobs against his shirt.

but your cries and sobs only continue later the night, putting on a strong front for the car ride home. 

seonghwa kept his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and occasionally bringing them up to his mouth to kiss; every time he did it, you looked over and smiled at him and tried to show through your eyes how much you loved him back.

but then the second you got home and your dad saw your face, he knew.

"did he tell you?" he asked gently, his heart breaking at the sight of your red cheeks and teary eyes. 

he watched park seonghwa fall in love with his daughter before his very eyes, the more evident it came the more awful he felt in his gut about it.

you can't even talk without sounding broken so you only nod your head, nearly collapsing onto the couch and hiding your face in your hands.

"you knew this was gonna happen," your dad says, not wanting to say i told you so but knowing from the start how reckless and tragic this was gonna be. "you have to tell him. be fair to him, y/n."

but nothing's fair. 

nothing about any of this is fair and you should've known life was getting too good. that you should've been expecting what tragic events were about to come.

“let’s take our bets now,” san says from his table at lunch. “is he gonna sit with her today?”

“when was the last time he sat with us?” yeosang grumbles, looking around the boy’s faces that hold a mix of anger and hurt. “he’s definitely not.”

they hadn’t seen much of seonghwa at all, really. 

missing him by the time they all gathered in front of the school after the final bell or going to his house on the weekends just for his mom to inform them he’s already out. 

and while most of them didn’t care, the older boy with hard eyes and a ticking jaw has been taking the ‘betrayal’ the worst.

“who knew he’d become such a little bitch,” hongjoong snarls. “and for her, nonetheless.”

mingi and yunho share a look, the two of them kind of caught in the middle; they’re best friends with hongjoong, have been by his side since elementary school and don’t intend on breaking that alliance. 

but they’re also close with seonghwa and see how different he is now. 

how much happier he seems because you’re in his life. they had even met you briefly after school and while you were a bit shy, there was something genuine and warm about your smile that they instantly liked. 

“she’s good for him, i think,” yunho dares to say, hongjoong’s narrowed eyes snapping to him. 

“how could she be?” the boy snarls, embarrassed that anyone he associated with could be connected to the snobby, holier than tho type like you. “i bet she doesn’t even put out.”

“i bet it’s not about that,” mingi says quietly, stiffening ever so slightly when he notices both of you come through the door. 

and like seonghwa always does, he sends them a nod of his head before sitting down across from you. your bumping arms and loving smiles make it obvious to everyone what’s going on between you two. 

hongjoong can only watch for so long seonghwa be a ‘lovesick bitch’ towards you. rolling his eyes when he watches him fawn over you, getting your food and drinks and not allowing you to lift a finger. 

(he doesn’t know it’s because seonghwa’s getting more and more concerned about how fatigued you’re growing throughout the day, something in his gut telling him it’s way more than you forgetting to drink water or not getting enough sleep as your excuses say). 

when he watches his friend tuck your hand behind your ear lovingly, a move they both would’ve laughed at before seonghwa lost his balls, he decides it’s time to get his friend back.

“what’re you doing?” he hears his friends ask from behind him but he only waves them off, stomping towards the table and rolling his eyes when you meet his gaze first. 

“seonghwa,” hongjoong says, annoyance already in his tone. the boy looks up and he stiffens, immediately recognizing the look in his friend’s eye.

“hey,” he says, voice tight and cautious. 

do not fuck with her.

“are you done with this shit or what?” 

the anger bite in the boy’s words has your head dropping immediately, eyes focusing on your lap as you try to properly prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

that’s exactly what happens the second seonghwa asks “what are you talking about?” because it’s like hongjoong goes off the rail, scoffing as he looks at his friend. 

“you’re kidding, right? you haven’t sat with us in months. we haven’t even hung out.”

“i’ve been busy...” seonghwa says but it sounds more like a question, completely thrown off by his friends odd behavior - what is even getting so mad about?

“with what? your girlfriend?” the last word twinged with disgust.

seonghwa’s eyes travel to you and the second he sees how uncomfortable you are, he stands up and towers over hongjoong.

“we can talk about this later.”

“no, i think we should talk about it now,” hongjoong says condescendingly, everything about his tone and stance making seonghwa’s fists clench. because he can tell it’s making you more and more uneasy. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” seonghwa asks lowly, pushing his friend back. 

“my fucking problem is you dropped all of us the second this bitch came along.”

the first time you brokenly get out “stop,” is when seonghwa’s immediate reaction is to grab hongjoong by the collar of his shirt, the low mumble of student’s voices when they see the first inkling of a fight. 

“don’t call her that.”

a sadistic smirk crosses hongjoong’s face as he stares into seonghwa’s dark, blazing eyes, seeing just how quickly he’s about to lose his control. the boy’s eyes then flicker to you, looking at them fearfully.

“let me tell you, y/n. your pussy must be something, i-”

seonghwa lands a punch on the boy’s face before hongjoong’s back is slammed against the wall, a hand around his throat as his eyes blaze down at him. 

"you better shut the fuck up.”

“why?” hongjoong laughs out despite the crushing weight on his windpipe. “you mean we’re not gonna share? i think we’re all very curi-

you hear yourself begging seonghwa to stop when he drops hongjoong to the ground, giving him a few forceful kicks in the stomach before the rest of the boys jump up. 

they grab the back of seonghwa’s shirt as you join them, trying to block out the way hongjoong and him are screaming and cursing back and forth despite the pounding in your head.

whether it be from the chaos of fighting or you’re already weakened, fatigued state, your vision blurs and your brain feels foggy before you whisper out seonghwa’s name. 

you feel an unfamiliar pair of strong arms around you before passing out and your world turns black. 

yunho carries you out to his car, mingi attempting to calm down seonghwa who hasn’t stopped calling your name frantically, cursing hongjoong and saying how this is all his fault. 

the two boys are quick to ground him, tell him that that’s not what’s important right now and instead deciding where to bring you. 

seonghwa rakes his fingers through your hair, your head lolled in his lap and he feels sick looking at how pale and sunken your face looks. 

“baby, what happened to you,” he mumbles out, his long finger coming out to trail over your cheek.

the second yunho pulls up to your house, seonghwa picks you up bridal style and rushes to your front door. your dad catches the sight through the window and nearly collapses in fear. 

“what the hell happened?” the older man asks frantically, terrified and haunted by how you look lifeless in the boy’s arms. 

“she passed out at school,” seonghwa grunts out, mingi and yunho awkwardly standing in the doorway watching him barrel through your house and rest you on the couch. 

he kneels down and runs his fingers through your hair again, the lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. 

“i-i don’t know happened. she said she was feeling tired but-”

“you have to go.”

his head snaps up at your dad’s words, the man watching him with hard eyes and a pale face. seonghwa can only squint his eyes at him, shaking his head as you takes your hand in his.

“with all due respect, sir, there’s no way i’m-”

“you are,” he says, his voice hard and firm and such a contrast to the peaceful way he speaks in church. “you shouldn’t even be with her.”

the statement takes seonghwa back, his eyebrow raising as he squeezes your hand before standing up. 

“what?” the boy asks, making his way over to your dad. “why?”

“seonghwa, maybe we should just-”

“no,” seonghwa growls, his head snapping to the doorway before back at the older man. “why shouldn’t i be with her?”

the pain and worry in seonghwa’s eyes is overwhelmingly obvious, the love and care he has for you completely genuine and real, but right now that’s not your dad’s concern. 

if you were a normal, healthy teenager, he knows the boy in front of him would be perfect. 

but you’re not normal or heathy and adding another person into this mix of hurt and worry and pain is something he just can’t do, even with the fact in mind that you love him and he loves you. 

he knows it’s not his call to make and he’s being incredibly selfish but he does what he thinks is best at the time.

“because she’s too good for you. she deserves more and it’s selfish of you to think otherwise.”

the room, the house, the entire world seems dead silent after those words leave his mouth, seonghwa not only taken back and pained by the fact he said it but because it rings slightly true. 

he’s known since this started that you were too good for him and he didn’t deserve you. he’s been trying to prove himself worthy by treating you well, listening to all your dad’s rules and just being patient and loving you.

“i...even though that’s true-” seonghwa begins to say but the older man takes a step closer to him, his face full of anger and frustration as he tells him once more to leave. 

that’s when mingi comes in and grabs seonghwa by the arm, the boy fighting against his friend’s hold as his eyes move back to your unconscious body.

“mingi, fucking stop,” he screams, fighting against his friend’s hold and feeling himself grow more and more anxious the further he gets from your house. 

the hold on him doesn’t loosen until he’s put into the car, the two boys jumping in front and turning to see him bouncing his knee nervously. 

“how am i not supposed to be there,” seonghwa says as he looks at your house. “she’s gonna wake up and i’m not gonna be-”

“she’ll be fine,” yunho says gently, mingi nodding in agreement before adding on that your dad is there and everything will be fine. that you just need to rest and that you can talk tomorrow.

when seonghwa visits your house, both, saturday and sunday morning, your dad turns him away. 

tells him you’re too sick and can’t be around people right now. even when he pleas for just five minutes, just to talk to you and see with his own eyes that you’re okay, he still says no. 

it’s not until the man slams the door in seonghwa’s face that he lets his hard exterior down, his body deflating and eyes stinging because he hates that he has to do this. hates watching you sit on the couch not meeting his gaze.

“y/n, i’m doing this for-”

“don’t say it,” you snap. “i’m going to school tomorrow and i’m telling him.”

your dad lets out a sigh, sitting down next to you on the couch and running his hands over his face. “the doctor said...”

“one day isn’t gonna kill me,” you say, “i’m already dying.” 

your dad’s face falld before he quietly mumbles out his approval and goes into the kitchen, both of you crying separately, pretending like the both of you aren’t doing so, and wondering why this had to happen.

the tears just follow into monday, holding them back all day when seonghwa catches you before first period and takes you in his arms. 

“you scared me so much,” he mumbled against your head, his tight hold on you nearly crushing you but you don’t care; you both need this and you’ll only need it more later. 

later being when the library cleared out after tutoring. 

seonghwa noticed you purposely lingering by wiping down the tables and slowly putting your things away. he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean against the wall and admire you moving slowly around the room.

the room where you guys got to know each other. 

where you went from strangers to friends and watched each other grow. 

where he remembers being so defensive and wary of you because he couldn’t believe someone like you actually existed. 

you feel his eyes on you and smile at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“what?” 

but he only shakes his head, holding his arms out in front of him and causing you to roll your eyes; who would’ve guessed that the man with every full intention of ignoring you would grow to be the clingiest boyfriend known to man?

not that you’re complaining. 

you’re quick to make your way over and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his chest and his hold on you tight and warm.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, not being able to shake the feeling that something’s wrong with you. 

your stomach plummets when you realize the conversation is about to happen, that nothing is stopping it and now you’re here finally about to tell him.

“i’m okay,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. his smile quickly falls, however, when you add on. “but there is something i need to tell you.”

his eyebrows furrow at the seriousness in your tone, taking one look in your already glossy eyes and seeing something is seriously wrong. as nervousness floods through him, he takes you by the hand and leads you over so you both can sit down.

“what?” 

his panic starts to increase more and more as the silence between you stretches, your tongue licking at your dry, chapped lips and your pale skin nearly translucent. 

every time you try to get the words out, he sees you close your mouth and eyes well with tears.

“you’re freaking me out, baby,” he says, squeezing your hand before taking the other. “please, just tell me.”

“i’m...i’m sick,” you eventually get out, swallowing the lump in your throat because you know that’s not good enough. you know that when his eyes narrow and he says he knows, that your dad told him yesterday, you just have to say it.

your first set of tears and sobs finally come, your face falling into your hands as you shake your head over and over. he thinks that scares him more than anything, watching how fast you break down and sob out apologies, barely able to acknowledge his arms around you.

“y/n, what? what is happening? please tell me.” 

you pull back and wipe the wetness off your face, lip trembling and voice shaky when you’re finally able to gather the strength. 

“i have leukemia.”

the words don’t sink in at first, his heart reacting but brain convincing him that, no, that’s not what you could’ve said. there’s no way you could have cancer. 

“no,” he says, shaking his head as a humorless laugh leaves his mouth. “you’re- you’re perfect, you can’t-”

“i was diagnosed two years and i’ve stopped responding to treatments.”

you watch through tears and a breaking heart as his head falls into his hands now, breathing in and out like he’s trying to prevent himself from having a complete panic attack. 

there’s no way you could have cancer. there’s no way you could have cancer and be dying when you’re a perfect high school student. there’s no way you would’ve kept something like this from him.

“and you... you’re just deciding to tell me this?” he asks, his head snapping up so you can finally see the tears in his eyes. “why the fu...why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want you to feel weird or be different around me,” you whisper out quietly, “i was just gonna try to go on with my life and be normal and then just... die quietly or-”

he shoots up from his seat, the clattering of the chair falling back causing you to jump. you watch him pace around the room like he’s unhinged, his hands pulling at his hair as he shakes his head.

“die quietly,” he snarls out, his jaw ticking and tight and he wants so badly to punch something. “die quietly. what the fuck does that even mean?” 

you can only cry quietly watching him pace and digest the news, your head hanging low as the salty tears seep onto your lips. he’s walks over to you and kneels down, his hands on your knees as he looks up at you with teary eyes. 

“please tell me this a joke,” he says, his voice wavering and wet and broken. “please tell me you’re not...”

you can’t tell him that, so you don’t say a word. 

and it’s like that’s all the confirmation he needs to know his girlfriend, the first person he’s learned to love and the first person to ever see something in him, is dying.

he completely falls apart in your lap after that, cries wracking his body as your hands run through his hair. it’s the first time in two years you’ve ever felt scared to die. 

your condition worsens over the next few days, landing you in the hospital and seonghwa in a depression. he doesn’t leave his couch or eat for three days, his mom softly cooing and begging to tell her what happened. 

but it’s like he’s lifeless, his eyes void of anything but sadness, and it’s a sight that his mom can’t stand to look at any longer. 

she had noticed the change in her son immediately, used to his usual teen angst but quickly realizing this was so much more than that. 

she called out of work and sat down next to him, not saying a word but just stroking his hair the way she did when he was a child. 

she didn’t press him about anything, didn’t ask if something had happened with the lovely girl he had brought home weeks ago or if he wanted to talk about anything.

after an hour of just sitting with him in silence, he finally had the strength to say it aloud.

“my girlfriend... she has leukemia and she’s dying, mom,” he said, so straight-forward and matter of facty, like he’s not able to grasp that he’s talking about you. 

the woman feels her heart break for a moment, her eyes swarming with tears as she wraps him in a hug. 

“i don’t know what i’m gonna do,” he says once he’s able to speak again. “i... what am i gonna do without her? i love her.”

“i know you do,” she says gently, her heart truly aching for the both of you right now. “but she’s still here, seonghwa.”

the boy can only look at his mom watching him with her soft gaze, knowing his own face is a red, tear-stained mess. 

“what?” is all he manages to cough out.

“you should be with her right now, while you still can,” she says, not wanting to upset her son further but knowing he needs to hear this. “enjoy the time you have and make what she has left worth it. you both need that, don’t you?”

that was just the kick he needed to get off his couch and charge over to the hospital. barreling into your room and feeling tears come to his eyes again at the sight of you in a hospital bed. 

“seonghwa,” you weakly say, your lips quirking up when you see the boy standing in the doorway. your heart lifts when he smiles back at you, cautiously making his way over to you and whispering out an apology. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble out, leaning into his touch when he places his hand on your cheek.

“it’s not baby. i was an asshole.”

the last thing he expects to hear you do is giggle, sunken eyes shining as you look at his confused expression. 

“what could you possible be laughing about right now?”

“just that it takes me dying for you to admit that you’re an asshole.” 

and perhaps it’s too soon for you to be making jokes like that because his face falls as he backs away from you.

“that was a joke,” you say quietly, pouting in hopes that it’ll get him to lighten up. his lips only form into a thin line, teary gaze shooting around the bare hospital room before back at you.

“it’s not funny.”

you hold your arms out to him, uttering a tiny “come here.” he falls into them immediately, his head burying in your neck and you feel tiny, tears hit your skin ever so often.

“i’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling your own sorrow hit you. 

you’re not only sorry for your comment but sorry that you waited so long to tell him. sorry that you’re now putting him through this and that he’s gonna have to watch you grow weaker and weaker.

“please don’t,” he mumbles against your head. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

he knows by the look you give him that you think it’s a complete and utter lie but you really don’t have anything to be sorry for. he understands why you didn’t tell him and why you wanted to remain going on like a normal person.

because if you did tell him, he would’ve never dragged you all around the state on date nights and weekend getaways. he would’ve been far too concerned and nervous, fawning over you and choosing instead to do the same old thing you always did.

so you guys just agree to disagree, his lips crashing down on yours and you smiling against them before a very flustered nurse comes in and apologies for interrupting. 

given how much seonghwa never leaves your side, how from the second he gets out of school until he leaves (at his bribed time of 11:00 pm), you end up apologizing to every member of the staff. 

on the days you have the energy, you’ll walk hand-in-hand through the garden and slow dance with the elderly couple you’ve met; you guys had seen them dancing and they noticed your looks, smiling softly before all but forcing you to join them.

on the days that you have more often than not, when you feel tired and drained, he sits at your bedside or even crawls in next to you. 

your dad had walked in one night to see you both asleep on the tiny bed, seonghwa’s arms around you protectively with your head on his chest, and forgets that he never properly apologized to the boy.

“this is why i did it,” the man says to him the next day. 

they had left to get you soup you’d been craving, pushing seonghwa by his back and sending him a thumbs up despite the terrified expression on his face. 

“what?” 

the man looks at seonghwa as his eyes gloss over. 

“i didn’t wanna involve someone else in this heartbreak. i was... i was trying to spare you.” 

and while the boy can empathize with his reasoning, even feels slightly grateful for it, he finds himself shaking his head. 

“i love her.”

“i know,” the man says, putting his arm around seonghwa’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. how could he not when he sees the way you both look at each other? “she loves you too.”

“i know,” seonghwa says, smiling happily before taking a deep breath. “and that’s why i wanted to ask you something.”

and so it was a random wednesday night, summer break now in session and successfully keeping seonghwa at the hospital all day and night, when you completed your bucket list. 

when you whined at him to kiss you and his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something of the sort. 

“on one condition,” he says teasingly, his eyebrows shooting up playfully as your lips are just a few inches apart, so close to giving you what you so desperately want. 

“what?” you whine, your lips turning into a pout.

“marry me.”

the wedding was held at the church your dad preached out, a small group of your friends and family gathered for the celebration. it had been the happiest day of your lives, not a hint of a sadness or heartbreak despite the circumstances.

you ate and danced and sang like you were any other young bride, dragging seonghwa out on the dance floor who’s hold on you never loosened. 

he stepped on your feet and you got the cake in his nose but it didn’t even matter. you were able to get married and fall in love with park seonghwa and he was responsible for some of the best days of your life. 

seven months later, seonghwa finds himself walking through that same cemetery he (admittedly) followed you into. 

it was the place where he first realized there was something about you he was gonna fall in love with. where he saw just how much you were gonna effect and change his life. 

he had not only finally learned how to love but how to grieve. 

learned that he didn’t have to be destructive or hide behind his fake persona. that he had people in his life who cared about him and would be there to listen to him.

it’s how he’s coping day by day, knowing that the pain in his heart will never go away but that he’ll learn to live with it. that memories and reminders aren’t supposed to make you sad but serve as a way to carry on someone’s life.

with the blanket he has under his arm, he lays it out and places it in front of the grave. he drops down the flowers he’s brought every month since that devastating day and just begins to talk. 

“why do you come here then?” 

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. because while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, its also something that some get uncomfortable by or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. but before he can misconstrue your gaze on him, you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll read."

he talks about his upcoming semester of school and how excited he is about it.

“i wish you’d be able to see me,” he says quietly, the lump forming in his throat making it difficult to breathe. 

he stands up to run his hand along the cold stone, his long fingers trailing over it before he moves back and looks over the engraving; a few moments later, he feels arms around his waist and smiles softly at the feeling. 

“you okay?” the soft voice asks him quietly. 

“yeah,” he says lowly, feeling the presence behind him move. “just telling her about school.” 

a quiet, soft hum rings through the air. 

“she’d be proud of you, you know.”

his eyes look over the grave once more before turning around, his eyes and smile softening. “i know.” he stands there silently, looking down at the headstone before picking up his blankets and saying his final goodbyes.

“see you soon, mom.” 

he turns around and meets your teary gaze, taking you in his arms and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“no crying, pretty girl.”

the doctors had called your remission nothing short of a miracle, transporting you to a different hospital where new treatments were being held. 

you all had been convinced that it was gonna be a waste, almost denying the treatment all together and letting the spot go to someone who’s family hadn’t come to terms with their loved ones death.

but then seonghwa’s mom came in and softly encouraged you to take it, her hand holding tightly onto yours like she knew you guys were gonna need each other come the time.

“you say that every time,” you sniffle, pouting as he wipes at the tears on your face. 

“because you cry every time.”

your soft giggle rings through the cemetery, your hands intertwined as you walk out of the squeaky gate that always reminds you of the night you shared your bucket list. 

(the bucket list that now has way more than four things on it). 

#did i say au #i mean the literal entire plot #nicholas sparks if you're in the ateez tag #ily #and i cant believe you killed her #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt91

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3    Beginning   Previous   Next

Marinette woke slowly. Her head felt fuzzy and it was a struggle to open her eyes. Once she managed it the first thing she saw was Plagg, hovering and looking guilty. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“Why do I feel so strange?” Her words came out a bit slurred but she could tell Plagg understood by the way they wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“We’ve all been worried about how stressed you’ve been and the way you’ve been pushing yourself. Chloe and Tikki decided to help you rest.”  Marinette could only let out an exasperated, if fond, sigh. She was perfectly capable of recognizing her own limits no matter what they thought. Her mind flashed to the confrontation with Catwoman and she cringed internally. Yes she had a tendency to push those limits but she did know what they were.

“Let me guess they turned off all my alarms and took my phone so no one would disturb me.” Even as she said it she knew it was wrong. Plagg wouldn’t look guilty over that. Not to mention the sluggish feeling that wouldn’t go away. The only time she felt like this was… “They drugged me!”

“In their defense you were really out of it before you passed out. You scared them.” Plagg’s soft words didn’t penetrate right away through her indignation but once they did a wave of guilt hit her. She knew that Chloe especially had been worried about her but it was becoming frustrating. Everyone around her seemed to be asking her how she was doing or trying to do everything for her and she just wanted to be left alone. Chloe tried to tone it down and leave her to herself, but Marinette still felt how much the other girl wanted to help. Having so much attention directed at her all the time was draining. Because of that she’d been pulling away from everyone, even the ones she shouldn’t have.

“Where are they?” Plagg just pointed toward the outer room and Marinette struggled to sit up through the fog still trying to force her back to sleep. She hated allergy medication. “Could you move my chair closer to the bed for me?” Plagg just floated there staring at her and she had to fight not to roll her eyes. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, I just want to go talk to them.” It still took the Kwami a few moments to sigh and do as she asked. Marinette was pretty sure they only did it because she actually gave them permission to touch the wheelchair. She’d banned them from it after the last incident when Tikki had to undo the damage they’d caused. As she shifted from the bed to the chair she noticed Plagg watching her carefully.

“It’s rather impressive how adaptable humans are. For the most part nothing short of death keeps you from moving forward. You’re lucky enough that you don’t have to do so alone, but you really need to talk to the people around you more. All of you are ignoring things and trying to keep the peace but all it’s doing is creating distance that none of you want.” Marinette could only blink at the Kwami. It was rare that Plagg was serious, about anything, and she knew better than to ignore them on those occasions. Especially when they were right.

“I know. I just…” Just was used to doing things on her own. Just didn’t want to be a burden. Just was scared it would change things, and not for the better. “I’ll talk to Chloe.”

“I don’t just mean Chloe. You’re closing off from almost everyone. Unlike Tikki, I understand wanting to keep things to yourself, wanting to be independent, but you aren’t meant to live like that. You thrive with other people, not alone. Setting boundaries for people is fine, but right now all you’re doing is hurting yourself and the people around you.” She flinched even knowing that Plagg wasn’t being mean or even trying to scold her. They were just stating facts as they saw them. It honestly made it worse for some reason. The Kwami’s expression softened. “Tikki’s bugs always have an ingrained sense of duty and their insistence on secrecy and doing the right thing all the time doesn’t help any of you loosen up. You becoming the Guardian just added more stress. Despite all that, you need to remember that you’re still a teenager and no one can do everything by themselves.”

Marinette felt herself tearing up and could only nod. Plagg flew up under her chin and started purring. For all the little God had a terrible reputation they were the most supportive and forgiving of all the Kwami. They stayed that way until she could compose herself. Her head was suddenly clear as well. She’d thank Plagg for that except it meant anything she said to Chloe right now would be entirely her own fault.

“Damian’s not mother is here too. She’s been helping to make sure the two of you aren’t bothered.” Marinette held in a sigh of relief at that. It gave her a little time to try and figure out what she should say. “I like her. She’ll be a chaotic influence for you and she’s been good to my kit. Even put her parents in their place.” She couldn’t help but giggle at that. Granted she wished she’d been there to see it. Ever since the fashion show Chloe’s mother had been riding her to try and turn her back into a subservient subject. It wasn’t working but it was creating an extreme amount of anxiety for Chloe. It was one more reason she’d been trying not to lean on her too much.

“Well, I suppose I should go out there to thank her and introduce myself properly.” Plagg just gave an approving hum as she headed towards the door. When she entered the main living space she expected to be overrun but Chloe and Selina were both engrossed by documents on the table in front of them.

“This is a really well structured business plan from what I can tell. You should show it to Bruce when he gets here, or Tim. They’ll be able to give you better feedback and considering your goal they may even want to invest in it. Not to mention figure out how to do a run around so that your parents don’t know about it or try to get involved.” Chloe looked stunned at the praise and Marinette was just confused. She’d had no idea Chloe was interested in starting a business.

“You really think they would? I don’t actually need an investment. Even without my parents I have a decent amount of money from things I’ve done, and you can see the start up costs are fairly minimal since I’d be acting as more of a go between than anything else. But getting advice on how to structure things so my parents can’t do anything if they find out about it would be a relief. If my mother had any idea I was planning something like this… it wouldn’t be pretty.” Marinette had hated Audrey even before they started dating for the way she treated Chloe among other things, but now she absolutely loathed the woman for that uncertain tone in her girlfriend's voice. It was times like this she wanted to sick Plagg on the woman, no matter what Tikki said.

“Planning something like what?” Both heads snapped up in surprise at her voice but the uncertainty in Chloe’s eyes physically hurt. Had she really been so unapproachable that Chloe didn’t want to share something like this with her? Selina was the one who answered.

“Chloe has an amazing idea to connect customers with artisans and communities in third world countries. That way the people and communities get more, or any to be honest, of the profits from their work while still offering lost cost, quality items to people around the world. It even takes into account the specific economies in each region so that they don’t accidentally unbalance things and possibly cause an economic collapse in the process. It’s pretty ingenious actually.” Chloe’s face kept getting redder the longer Selina talked but Marinette could see how happy the praise made her. Between that and what Plagg had said about the woman, Marinette was ready to make her a new wardrobe as a thank you. Until she remembered that she’d be doing that anyway since she was Bruce’s fiance. She’d have to come up with something else.

“It’s just an idea really. There’s no way to be sure it will work without actually trying it.” Chloe mumbled her reply to the floor and Selina was frowning at her in concern. Seeing Chloe close off like this brought home what Plagg had said about how she was hurting the people around her. What a mess.

“Well it’s a great idea and if anyone can make it happen you can. You’re one of the smartest people I know.” Chloe’s face lit up as she practically launched off the couch to hug her. Marinette just held on tightly and made a silent promise, to both of them, to fix this.

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#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #plagg #Selina Kyle #bffmaridami

[slashermom]

I was wondering maby Bo and vincent with an adopted younger sister?? Who wandered into ambrose after being kicked out of her home by her parents, and they adopt her as younger sister?? Headcanons ?

Dysfunctional family adopting someone who brings the jaded knuckleheads together? Where do I sign up?

Christ, you really didn’t know where you were going.

What started out as a heated argument quickly snowballed into you having twenty minutes to get your belongings and leave. 

It was probably time to move out, anyway. 

Just sucks you can only fit so much into a duffle. You decide to give your folks some time to cool down and see if you can’t weasel your way back into the house to collect more of your things.

And of course, your family just had to live in butt-fuck nowhere Louisiana with no cell service or a town for quite a few miles. 

Or so you thought. 

You were dragging your sorry behind down an old dirt road. Really not looking forward to spending another night in the woods, when lights shined through the trees. 

Wasting no time, you cut through and found yourself standing in front of a quaint town. You don’t remember any town being way out here, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

Maybe there was a motel or bed-and-breakfast? Not that you had much money, but you’ll work to pay off the rest. You just needed somewhere to lay your bones that wasn’t the ground. 

Your thought process was cut off by the sound of a voice calling out.

“Hey! What are you doing over there?” 

You look over to see a man exiting a gas station and you quickly put your head down and proceed up the sidewalk.

“I’m talkin’ to you.” The sound of footsteps hastily approaching only made you pick up your pace. “You here alone?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The man stepped in front of you and finally got you to stop. Which you were quick to explain you were just looking for a place to stay the night. 

The blue eyes that narrowed in on you were almost as intense as his build and stance. He scoffed and told you there were no motels in town.

You almost cried and you think he could tell because he was quick to offer to work something out for you. 

He told you to follow him back to the station so he could lock up and then he would help you out. 

The two of you introduced yourselves and ended up getting to talking. He was surprisingly easy to talk to.

You were cautious, though. If he said something that was a bit off you kept note of it and even called him out on it. The last thing you needed was to be taken advantage of. 

As you neared the Sinclair home, Bo began to internally fight with himself. 

Bo has never had any trouble taking care of people who stumbled into Ambrose. No matter their age, size, or gender. He always figured out a way to take them down.

But every time he gets you in a position where it would be painfully easy to knock you out cold and let Vincent do the rest, he hesitates. 

You remind him of himself when he was younger.

A spitfire who thinks they know way more than they really do. Painfully determined to be independent. 

He tells you to wait in the living room while he talks to his brother. 

Bo finds Vincent in the old office and explains the situation. Vincent barely contains his amusement at his predicament. He silently leaves and is careful when he takes a peak in the living.

You were clearly exhausted and not even close to a threat. Vincent was confused why his twin was so worked about this. He had seen beetles more threatening than you.

“Let her stay.” 

“Are you out of your mind? What if--”

“Just for the night.” He knew he was pushing it. “Out in the morning.”

The twins went back and forth for long enough for your eyes to begin to droop shut. But you pretended to be wide awake when Bo came back with an announcement.  

Besides his better judgment, Bo begrudgingly takes Vincent’s advice and offers you the couch. 

Just one night. Bo isn’t into collecting strays and already has enough mouths to feed.

Well, one night on the couch turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into too many to count, which finally ended up with him putting you in Lester’s old room. 

He pretends to be very upset as he watches you get settled in the room but you’re quick to remind him the both of you could hop in the truck and not have to worry about it. Which he shuts down a little too rapidly and says ‘That’s too much work and a waste of gas.’

He calls you ‘kid’.

Don’t take it personally. You could be only four hours younger than him and he would still call you that. 

Naturally, Bo becomes protective over you.

He knows you can hold your own but you’ve become the Certified Baby™ of the Sinclair clan so he can’t help it. 

Bo ever catches a tourist looking you up and down or giving you a hard time, he’s on that like white on rice.

Bo: Y/N,  you seen the shotgun anywhere? That gentleman you met earlier wants to see it up close. 

But don’t think you’re spared from Bo’s anger.

He will rag on you just as much, if not more. He thinks by being rough or crass that it will teach you a lesson.

Blame Victor.

Thankfully, you’re able to find solace and a more light tone around Vincent. 

Vincent is a man of few words, but you have come to understand him pretty well and vice versa. 

He made himself scarce when you first arrived - even though he was the one who persuaded Bo to let you stay.

Vincent craved someone else to talk to and be around but was too terrified to initiate any actual conversations.

So you ambushed him every time he was on the main level of the house until he got used to your presence. You never went down in the basement, though. That was clearly his place.

He offered you clothes he would have put on the wax figures. He knows it’s not much and maybe some of it isn’t your style, but they might be better than Bo’s old band tees and Vincent’s dusty sweaters he doesn’t wear anymore. 

You become more comfortable and open around Vincent before you really do Bo.

You could tell him anything and it won’t faze him. Which is a pleasant change of pace compared to cut off finger now and ask questions later Bo.

The both of you bond over making fun of Bo. 

Bo: Am I a joke to you?

Vincent & you in unison: Yes, absolutely. 

Bo teaches you the ins and outs of cars.

Vincent teaches you about candle making.

Bo doesn’t hesitate to refer to you as his sister in front of tourists. It’s muscle memory at this point.

You and Vinny share books and talk about them often. Most of the time you get to talking about other things but neither of you seem to mind.

You have switched out Bo’s Avenged Sevenfold tapes for Mariah Carey on more than one occasions. And each time it happens you swear you see three years fall off that man’s life span.

Also, I’m gonna say it...

They give really good brother hugs.

Bo will hold you tight with a hand resting on the back of your head to keep you close before he realizes he’s being a little too soft and tries to squeeze the life out of you and play it off as a joke. 

Vincent’s hugs are secure and gentle. A hand skimming lovingly across your back and won’t let go unless you want him to.

#platonic love is just as important as romantic love #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax 2005

[enkelimagnus]

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 3, 3387 words, 

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for

Read on AO3

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

Keyleth was right about the trail. She’s the only one that really takes it.

It’s a month into Vex’s stay in Whitestone when she bumps into the red-haired half-elf again.

It’s a late morning with a pale winter sun, the kind that doesn’t really warm you in any way. Vex hasn’t had to take off her coat through the exertion of work in a couple of days. The cub plays in a pen she’s hammered into the side of the path when she got there.

She’s a couple of miles into the trail now and it’s getting harder by the day. The further away from civilisation, the more tangled the branches and roots are. She doesn’t easily fall to the ground but even her sure footing fails her regularly.

The trail now snakes along the mountainous platform Castle Whitestone sits on. A thin layer of bushes provides a buffer between the path and the rock, thicker in patches where certain harsher varieties grow. There’s some berry bushes in there, thorny but with delicious fruit that will make Vex’ delight in summer.

She decides to stop for a bit of lunch, gives the cub some milk and solid food. She’s trying to wean him off, regularly asking advice to her old mentors. Once she’s done taking care of him, she sits down on a bigger rock and starts to eat her sandwich of brown bread, cured meats and cheese, with dried fruit on the side. She’s completely out of spices and Vax won’t be there for a week at least.

It’s all a little drab. Despite the pale sun, she can feel the rain coming, and she doubts she’ll be able to spend most of the afternoon working here. She’ll have to pack up and start the hike back down to the edge of the path, for almost two hours.

She stretches out once she’s done eating, closing her eyes and letting herself dig. She settles her feet into the ground, straightens her spine and digs herself into the forest.

Her consciousness expands, past her skull, through her entire body until she’s one with her mind. And then it pushes past her physical form. Through every pore, through her feet’s connection to the ground, she breathes her mind out and lets it tangle with the forest.

It’s a strange sort of feeling. Vex stops breathing for a second as she sinks into the sensation of letting her mind run free. It’s primal. She remembers being taught this strange instinctive ability by other rangers, being taught to let herself be. Let her nature breathe out.

She stops floating after a moment though and focuses on what she’s doing this for. She’s searching for an enemy.

More specifically, she’s searching for a fey. A part of her doesn’t believe she’s truly alone and free of Saundor’s influence, so she searches. She doesn’t find any fey, nothing in the six mile radius her consciousness stretches in. What she finds however is a fiend.

She can’t tell exactly where it is, her powers aren’t that specific, but she knows it’s there. It’s in her radius, in her home, in the place she’s sworn to protect.

The trance ends and she snaps back into her body like a stretched-out rubber hand. She shudders violently, her eyes adjusting to her surroundings. She’s forgotten her own name for a second there.

The fiend’s presence leaves an ashy aftertaste in her mouth. She’ll need to go and talk to a priest about this. She has no idea what the creature’s power is, but she’d rather have some divine magic by her side if she has to root it out.

As she packs her things to get back to work, she hears something. A light footstep, to her right, coming from the south.

Vex’s hand flies to her bow. Lightning-fast, she notches in an arrow and draws it back, focusing on her target.

A half-elf with red hair, tan skin and green eyes. Her hands are up, she has a sheepish smile on her face. Keyleth.

Vex exhales. She doesn’t lower her guard, because Keyleth could still be the fiend, but she relaxes somewhat.

“You startled me,” she says in explanation, but not apology, for the arrow pointed at her.

“I’m sorry,” Keyleth replies, her hands still up even if Vex has lowered her bow. “I wasn’t expecting someone there either.”

Her eyes dart over to the rock formation for a second.

“I’m making sure this trail is secure,” Vex explains. “You can probably handle yourself, but unmarked paths like this one are just begging for idiots to climb up and get themselves injured. And then I have to deal with it,” she mutters. “And it’s a major liability.”

“I get it,” Keyleth hums. Her right hand settles on the rock.

She seems anxious despite her relaxed demeanor. It may simply be a façade. Her eyes dart to the stone right behind Vex, or up to the castle regularly, as if checking if something is still there. She’s much more nervous, almost hostile towards Vex than the first time they met. Something’s wrong.

“I was wondering,” Vex starts again, and green eyes snap back to her. “I did some… energy checks around here earlier and something was wrong. I felt a-”

“There are many wrong things in the Parchwood Timberlands,” Keyleth snaps, cutting Vex off. “Undead sometimes, some elementals too. Comes with the territory. A lot of magical energy here.”

She’s trying to distract Vex’ attention. She’s lying to her, it’s almost too obvious. The red-head is not good at deception and it immediately pings Vex’ radar. Her eyes are darting back to the stone almost in panic now, her arm not holding her staff is stiff to her side with the fist closed.

“I’m not talking about those,” Vex coldly points out. “I felt a fiend. A couple undead or werewolves or elementals I can deal with, and was warned about when I took my post. But not fiends.”

Keyleth is stiff as a board now. “I… I don’t know. I don’t come here often, and I only come on this trail. I can’t help you,” she mumbles under her breath.

She’s still lying. Vex feels the rise of anger in her throat, anger at this girl who is not letting her do her job correctly.

“Listen, I don’t know why you’re lying to me but this is dangerous. I don’t know what your business with this situation is, but whatever you’re protecting, it’s gonna kill people. That’s what fiends do. They’re evil.”

Keyleth shifts, her grasp on her staff white-knuckled. “I’m not protecting anything,” she answers tightly. “I can’t help you. I’m a druid, and a weak one at that. I can’t help anyone.”

Now there is a light tone of despair in her voice and Vex can feel the guilt coming off of the young woman in waves. She sighs deeply. She hopes this one’s problem won’t be something she bumps into in the dark of the forest.

“Fine,” Vex huffs. “Do whatever you were here to do. I’ll go get the local priest of Pelor for help with that creature anyway. We need divine power to combat fiends.”

Keyleth shifts again, staring at Vex with a strange intensity. She’s maybe not as hesitant as before. There is something stronger and harder about her. Vex wonders why she would be protecting a fiend.

Evil has many faces, and maybe Keyleth was seduced by one of those. Vex couldn’t blame her if she was. She’d made that mistake before. She just wished she could save Keyleth from this.

“I… Sorry for bothering,” Keyleth mutters before she starts walking northward, to the part of the trail Vex has yet to work.

“Good luck,” Vex replies similarly as she watches the druid walk away. She seems to relax as she moves away from Vex. Well.

She screwed that one up. Keyleth could have been an ally, but her… nervousness around the topic of the fiend didn’t make her seem trustworthy.

Vex sighs heavily, closing her eyes a little. This city is much more of a mess than expected, and now she really will have to go to that Temple of Pelor and see if there’s a priest that can help her root out the fiend.

Maybe that can be her late afternoon trip, she realizes. She’s made enough headway for today, and she has no desire to stick around to see Keyleth again once she walks back down the trail in a couple of hours, hopefully satisfied with her hike.

Now that she thinks of it, coming to one specific trail once a month or once every couple of months and never any other is a strange habit. What is Keyleth finding up that trail? Is there a hideout that Vex will walk in? She should have asked her that, fuck. If that druid knows all about this trail, Vex needs to know too. She has no desire to find herself falling into a trap because she didn’t ask the person who knew.

She packs up her things and gets the cub back from his pen, before starting the long walk back down to her truck. It takes her about two hours, and she makes sure to drive home and leave the animal there before she heads into town.

Whitestone looks beautiful in the winter light, she has to admit that. It’s like the city is made to exist in this weather. She hasn’t spent enough time here to gauge if this is the average weather or not.

The high walls are almost blindingly light as she drives on the driveway surrounding the city, from the west side where she came out of the woods to the eastern side, where the cemetery and some of the temples are.

She’s done a little research and talked to some people. The Dawnfather is the main deity of the city and has been the patron of Whitestone and its ruling family, the De Rolos, since they arrived from Wildemount. Some stories say that the Parchwood Timberlands were created by the conflict between Pelor, the Dawnfather and Tharizdun, the Chained Oblivion, during the Calamity.

Stories of divine battles mark the entirety of Exandria. Fallen giants make for mountains and greatswords fit for deities are considered responsible for rivers or valleys opening into land. The supposed origin of the Parchwood Timberlands is not the only story of this kind. The place she used to call home, Syngorn, is situated in the middle of a forest known for growing from the ley energy left behind after the Divergence.

Vex has never been the most faithful. Her mother worshipped in that way that many do, partially and because of tradition and habit more than motivated by faith. When she and Vax left her for Syngorn, they found a city where the Elders’s very parents had been betrayed by the Arch Heart and left behind in the time of the Calamity. Though some had forgiven the deity and seen it as a gift, as it allowed them to become a people of the Feywild, some still held a grudge.

She guesses she took in the grudge part more than the forgiveness part.

The influence of the Dawnfather runs deep in Whitestone, from what she’s read. The Sun Tree towering in the center of the city, also represented on the city’s crest, was supposedly given by him. The Dawnfather’s temple, the Zenith, is a major place of worship, with the Lady’s Chamber. And it’s exactly what she needs.

Vex parks in the lot by the walled-up enclave of temples and cemetery. The Zenith leans against the Southern wall, towering over it. The Eastern gate is right in front of it, allowing a view of the tall wooden doors.

She steps into the yard in front of the temple and swallows. The door seems closed, but she doubts it actually is. She doesn’t know any reason why the temple would be closed today. Every house of worship of Pelor she’s seen before has been opened every day and night.

The doors are beautiful, dark wood carved with wreaths and sun rays, flames licking up the sides of it.

There isn’t anyone outside, the yard quiet and empty. As she walks across the grass, she tracks more mud than green. Vex sighs before she uses the thick iron knocker on the door. It used to be painted in gold, it seems. There’s still chips of paint in some untouched corners.

Her knock seems to echo a little inside but there is no immediate response. She waits there, wind slashing stray strands of hair into her face and sipping through her thick winter coat. From the corner of her eye, she notices that a part of the western wall of the temple is being rebuilt. She can’t imagine the cold in there.

She’s about to go and look closer at the fallen stones of the wall when something slides behind the doors. Bars probably, heavy iron locks opening. Within a few seconds, a smaller door opens in the massive right one.

Behind the panel is a human, with salt and pepper hair and a matching beard. They wear cream robes with red and gold embroideries and detailing representing suns and shields, with a golden sash wrapped around the waist. Vex can’t see exactly but they seem to be wearing several thick layers of fabric. Something about them is familiar, as if she’s seen them before.

“Sun’s Greeting, what can I do for you?” They say in a low, soft voice that must sound beautiful in a song.

Vex smiles. “Sun’s Greeting to you,” she responds. “I’m the new ranger of the Alabaster Sierras park, and I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time to discuss something I’ve sensed.”

They nod, something shifting in their eyes, though Vex cannot tell what.

“Vex’ahlia Vessar, right?” they ask. “I’ve heard about you.” They’re still smiling at her, but Vex feels frozen in place.

She hasn’t told anyone her last name yet. She’s been very careful not to. Many people and tribes do not use last names, and it is not uncommon enough to raise suspicion. The fact this person she has never met before knows a name they shouldn’t know is terrifying. She would drop into her trance and search for fey if she wasn’t in the middle of a conversation.

“Just… Just Vex’ahlia,” she replies, her voice wavering frustratingly.

“Father Reynal,” he introduces himself. “The current head of worship of the Zenith. Please, come in.”

He takes a step back to let her walk into the temple. Vex’s eyes stare at the mark of the door on the stone of the floor, but her legs walk her in automatically.

It’s almost as cold inside as it is outside, despite the large roaring fireplace behind the altar, across the room from the door. Candles are lit as the pale sun struggles to shine through the tall stained glass windows on the walls. There’s three on each of the longest walls.

Her muddy boots dirty the red carpet, but the priest doesn’t seem to pay that any mind. He’s looking right at her. Vex swallows. The door closes behind her, leaving her in the low-lit empty church.

The wall to her right is partially fallen, covered by large blankets suspended from the ceiling and attached to below the holes, to try and provide cover from the elements. It’s not working well.

Something has happened here, Vex can’t shake that feeling. The fallen walls and chipped paints and that thing about the De Rolos that the owner of the Alcove was so reluctant to talk about. Something terrible happened in this city, it hangs from the walls and through the air like ash after a catastrophic fire. It makes Vex want to cough it out, even if she knows it’s not really there.

The priest starts walking deeper in. He’s limping quite heavily. Vex follows him, dread coiling in her stomach. This is not the sunrise of divine positive energy she’s expected.

“What can I help you with? What have you sensed?” Father Reynal asks and Vex manages to make her brain start again.

“I sensed a fiend. In a six-mile radius from the stone platform on which the castle sits,” she explains. “I’ve dealt with fiends a couple of times, but not knowing what this one’s power is, I was hoping to gather some divine help.”

The priest raises an eyebrow at her. “I’m afraid a couple hours of hiking up the mountains is out of my current capacities,” he replies. His voice is much heavier, much more haunted. “That’s all you felt, right? A fiend, somewhere in that area. No specifics?”

Vex shakes her head. “My training only offers rather… general information,” she sighs. “That’s all I can give you.”

“I don’t think I can help you in any way,” he looks rather saddened by the fact.

“Maybe there is another member of your house of worship that would be up for some fiend hunt in the woods?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

Father Reynal huffs lightly. “I’m the only one here,” he says. “The only one taking care of this temple. If I can’t help you, no acolyte of Pelor can, in Whitestone.”

Vex looks around the temple. The pews wear a layer of dust she hadn’t noticed originally. A gust of wind slips under the blanket trying desperately to keep it out. The candles’ lights tremble. It’s desolate. Father Reynal looks more tired and older like this, shadows digging in his face.

“I thought the Dawnfather was the most worshipped deity of the city,” she whispers.

The priest chuckles humorlessly. “He’s still worshipped alright, but the people don’t find the time or energy to come to the temple anymore. They haven’t in years.”

A lot of her information is wrong. Way too much for her comfort, actually. Not only did she not know the de Rolos were all dead, but now this too? The nagging feeling of dread tightens in her chest again.

“I’m sorry,” she swallows.

Father Reynal sighs. “Whitestone hasn’t been the Dawnfather’s beloved city for a very long time, but it has only recently become this visible. We should have known something was wrong a long time ago but we were all blind.”

The state of the city, the thing that happened, are weighing on this man something awful. Vex swallows.

“Do you know of anyone who could help me? I think the fiend is powerful enough for mind control.” She then starts recounting her encounter with Keyleth, who the half-elf is and why she’s worried about her, with the priest watching her intently. When she’s done, she looks at him honestly, earnestly. “I really need some help in this matter. A life may be at stake.”

“I know the druid you’re talking about,” Father Reynal nods. “But I wouldn’t worry. She has a strong mind, and she knows the path well. She’s not enthralled. I would be aware.”

That feels final. He’s shutting her out of that topic, shoving her worries away. He probably knows better than her about fiends and enthrallment but Vex can’t shake the stress in her bones. Maybe it’s only her own experience with Saundor, maybe she’s projecting it all on Keyleth and that fiend…

“Unless you have something else to ask…” the priest points out. “I will see you out. Things need to be done here, work.”

He coaxes Vex back to the door and opens it. She’s being shut out of something, again. It’s what comes with being a stranger to Whitestone, but she’s here to take care of people and nature alike, not to hurt anyone. Why won’t they tell her things she needs to know?

“I understand,” she says between gritted teeth as she steps back through the door.

Right as the man is about to close the door back on her, he stops. His eyes land on her again, heavy and sad.

“Maybe go ask in town. The Lady’s Chamber might know if there are good clerics in town,” Father Reynal advises. “And the tavern is always a good place to ask.”

And with that, the thick carved wood slams in Vex’ face.

#perc'ahlia #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #fic #critical role #vox machina #mine #vaxleth #vaxilmore