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newcaptainofsquad9 · 3 years

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To Be Loved And Deserved~Myoui Mina x black! fem! reader

Pairing: Mina x reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, angst, smut, hurt and comfort

Summary: With the distance you created due to your anxiety and self doubt, Mina sought to lessen it and show you how much she cares about you.

Word Count: 1, 962

Author’s note: A continuation/sequel to this fic. Smut ahead, so there’s your warning, 18 plus from this point. Also, sorry if it’s trash I’m having a hard time focusing and finishing things so I finally got something done! Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Cosplay is always fun for you, especially when your girlfriend, Mina joined in the fun. At first, she loved to only gush about you and your presence and flair with the craft (her words), but with enough pleas and kisses, she gave it a try. The first cosplay the both you did together was Korra and Asami from The Legend of Korra, and the first you both shared on tiktok. It wasn’t the last as the both of you delved into some of your favorite pairings/partnerships, or ships in general from media: Renji and Rukia from Bleach, Jon Snow and Daenarys Targaryen, and various Marvel characters (Mina insisted of course).

There was one that people criticized you the most for and that was your cosplay of Princess Bubblegum, in all her pink and pretty glory, yet many commenters didn’t feel the same way about you. Like how they thrashed you of your sailor moon and other anime cosplay, they stressed over how Bubblegum wasn’t black and how you weren’t built for cosplay as much as Mina was. It hurt, damaged you as much that you began to distance yourself from your girlfriend. You only told her you need space, of course being Mina she didn’t question until it became weeks--your phone blew up with texts from a worried Mina which escalated to calls, tik tok and Instagram messages. You cut yourself off from her and the comments, only leaving your room when necessary. The calls soon stopped.

Instead, a knock echoed throughout your home, jerking you from your burrito like position wrapped around your comforter. You knew she’d come over eventually, but the conversation isn’t something you’re looking forward to. Did Mina want to break up with you? You didn’t, you loved her so much that it hurt but she wouldn’t understand how much you felt. People only praised her when she tried, not calling her ugly or telling her a cosplay isn’t right because of her race.

You got up from your bed, sighing at the cold that fit your tummy and toes once your comforter fell. It took a few shuffles but you found the front door as more knocks continued. Your heart pumped with each thud before you gathered enough courage to open it.

Mina’s fist was still raised as she ceased knocking.

“Y/N,” she said.

“Mina I--”

You were cut off by Mina throwing her arms around you.

“Thank God,” she whispered against the skin of your cheek. “You’re OK, you’re actually OK.”

Your arms wrapped around her back instantly as the emotion that bubbled up inside you came crashing down through a heat of tears that rushed.

“S-So, does that mean you don’t want to break up with me?” you asked.

Mina pulled back immediately.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” she said. “Y/N please just--”

You cut her off with a deep sob, no longer holding on without her. Mina’s arms wrapped around your waist, cooing softly as she cupped your cheeks. She stepping with you, slow and steady as the both of you moved as one towards your room.

Once you reached it, she lay back against the bed next to you with enough space between you both.

Your eyes dart to the covers beneath you as silence fell. Mina opened her mouth to speak, yet closed it as you began to speak as well.

Mina’s hands flew back to your face as her face flushed with a bit of red.

“You should go first,”she said.

You nodded, it’s the least you could do since you kept her in the dark for awhile.

“You did nothing wrong Mina,” you started. “I-I had a bad time on Tik-Tok, my anxiety got out of hand and--”

The sound of Mina’s gasp cut you off, her face serious yet again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said. “I always check in with you when things are hard for me.”

You nodded; the sadness Mina expressed breaking your heart more and more.

“I know, and I wanted to talk to you, believe me I did but,” you paused. Mina tilted her head.

“But?” she asked before silently telling you to go on.

“My problems, are completely different from yours, you get so much praise from our cosplays,” you said. “I scrolled through thousands of them all commenting on how accurate your cosplay is, even if it wasn’t completely all there--no one called you names or sought to stereotypes to discredit you.”

Mina’s lips parted, looking to speak but she only nodded and rubbed your back.

“A-And I’m not blaming you, it has nothing to do with you,” you declared. “But seeing how they brought you up, just to yank me down made me resent you--just for a moment! That’s why I needed space.”

Mina blinked away tears, forcing your own to build up as she wrapped her arms around you.

“I’m sorry Mina,” you whispered against her chest.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said. “You let me back in, even if we have different problems, I’m always here to listen and support. OK?”

Her hands traveled up and down your sides, making the shirt you wore ride up a bit to bare soft skin. You nodded, then a shudder rippled through at Mina’s contact; your girlfriend noticed and narrowed her eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispered. “Every part of you.”

Her words followed with a few pecks to your lips, across your jawline then down to your neck.

“I-I missed you too.”

Mina smiled. It was her toothy smile with her adorable gums and the shininess of her eyes.

“Yeah? I hope you didn’t just miss me and lay here all day,” she said with a hint of teasing.

“No,” you said, heat flushing to your cheeks. “I-I watched a lot of Netflix, thought about things and ate some cookies.”

Mina giggled.

“Oh? What kind of cookies?” she asked while her hands still lingered at your sides softly.

Her touch almost made you lose your train of thought. You shifted around the bed, flopping to the other side before reaching over to the dresser to grab the pack of cookies.

“Strawberry cream ones,” you said in between a few bites. “Want some?”

Mina smiled as you chewed, then eventually swallowing.

“No, but I’d much rather enjoy lovely strawberry kisses,” she whispered.

You nearly choked on the rest of your cookie as Mina giggled and caressed your face, gently while you finished the few cookies you decided to eat.

“Is it OK, if I kiss you?” she asked, leaning in to touch your forehead with her own. “And show you how much you are loved?”

Her words were tender, you barely reacted as her lips ghosted across your throat, jaw then cheek. A sigh escaped you; Mina’s kisses got harder, most likely leaving bruises and marks but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the warm feeling your girlfriend spurred within you. Mina noticed your silence and pulled back with soft eyes.

“Y/N? Are you OK?”

You nodded.

“Yes,” you said before initiating the kiss this time.

Mina moved fervently against your lips, hands moving down your sides to lift your shirt just enough to caress more skin and soft noises from.

“Mina,” you moaned.

“What would you like me to do, baby girl?” she whispered. “Anything you want, just let me love you.”

Your hands tangled themselves in her curly hair while she trailed kisses down your neck and parts of your chest exposed to her thanks to your v neck.

“I just want to get lost in you,” you said. “Make me feel good. Make love to me, Mina.”

Mina’s kisses ceased once you told her, eyes sparkling with as much love and passion that you almost cry again. She kisses you once more. It’s softer now while her hands gently pull up your shirt; you help by taking it off completely. A knowing smile spread while her eyes wondered down and your bra-less chest.

“Y-You, I-I,” she paused as she tried to get her words together. “S-Stunning.”

You pulled her back to be flushed against you. Hands and fingers moved everywhere and all at once: Mina’s tracing each curve and stretch mark she could find; you tried to chase and follow her movements by unbuttoning her own shirt and tossing it on the floor.

The both of you ended up panting on the bed. Mina straddled you with you lain on the bed in a heap of breathless giggles. She continued marking you to the quick moves of her hips, making you gasp at her clothed heat.

“M-Mina-”

You were cut off by her getting off of you for a moment to pull you to the edge of the bed where she sat on her knees. The pajama bottoms you wore slipped off by Mina carefully, underwear following as she slipped them off in a matter of seconds. Her lips traced your legs, up thighs and lingered near the place you needed her the most.

“I need to gear you up, baby,” Mina whispered against the softness of your skin.

Her fingers swiped slowly at your folds. The sensation had moans slipping from your mouth; Mina smiled and coaxed you through are her movements as she slipped a finger inside you.

“Please, Mina--”

She finally followed your request, leaning up to climb over you, pulling her jeans down and kissing you fiercely. Her tongue slipped through, both of you not fighting for dominance over one another but the lust that was pent up for weeks. Your hands traveled down to Mina’s forearms, gripping tight as she sunk down: both of your soaking cores meeting. Her thrusts started up again with each kiss from your lips, jaw, chest then neck. The sensation wasn’t enough for you to handle. Mina smirked at the mess you were already with the moans building from you. When your eyes met, your heart-rate spiked up and the breath you barely had left; her eyes were shiny, careful and too pretty to look at. So much so, you couldn’t help but get teary eyed--you wanted to blame yourself again but Mina’s movements grew softer as her thrusts lessened.

“I love you so much,” you said, choking on the sobs that rocked your body.

Mina bit her lip at the slowed movements, both of you so close to climax while being lost in each others feelings and emotions.

“I love you too,” she panted. “Every part, do you understand? You’re beautiful OK?”

You nodded, adverted your eyes. Mina shook her head before gripping your chin.

“Say it, babygirl,” she purred. “Tell me, look at me. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

The deep, huskiness of her voice sent you over the edge, climax taking over while the words spilled from your lips.

“I-I’m beautiful!” you cried.

Mina beamed down at you with a sense of passion mixed in with enough cockiness to force you to climax yet again.

“I’m not the one you have to say that to,” she said. “But it is sexy seeing how I could make you do that and come.”

You rolled your eyes, then tried to roll over only for Mina to hold you by the arms while slipping from between you and onto the soft sheets beneath.

“Are you still thinking about what happened with those disrespectful people on Tik-Tok?” she asked while playing with rubbing her fingers softly down your arms.

“No, not when my girlfriend is here cheering me up and telling me how loved I am,” you said. “And you’re right, I need to start learning how to love myself better.”

Mina pressed a hard kiss to your forehead before burying her face into your neck.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way baby.

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jeonqquk · 3 years

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what did you think ; pjm

-pairing: jimin x reader -genre/tags: royalty!au | angst | forced marriage | cheating? but not like accidental or on purpose | 0 plot -rating: 13+ -wc: 995 words -notes: this is a drabble for @ficscafe's drabble event!

-summary: forced marriages almost never worked out for anyone. so what made your parents think that it would for you and park jimin?

“Do you, Kang Y/n, take Park Jimin as your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asks with a calm voice, and you gulp harshly before nodding, not once meeting your husband’s eyes. You know he’s smiling, the energy he’s giving off is overwhelming but you know it’s all fake. Jimin doesn’t love you, nor is he happy about the wedding, but having been born into one of the most powerful royal families came with its share of responsibilities and restraints.

“I do.” and you almost cry right then and there. As soon as the words leave your mouth, you shut your eyes and try gathering yourself. For the thousands of people watching, if not yourself. A tight-lipped smile adorns your lips and you try to make it look natural but it’s really tough to be genuinely happy when you’re getting married to a man you hadn’t even known for a month.

You had been enraged when your parents had told you about this, not even bothering to listen to their explanation which sounded like something along the lines of ‘It’s very good for our kingdom’ before storming out and into your room. You had locked yourself and screamed into the pillow, having learnt that this was one of the best methods to release your anger.

Turns out, your opinion hadn’t really mattered because the next day, you were meeting your to-be-husband and his parents. Not gonna lie, their palace was really enormous, with grand ornaments both on the inside and outside and you couldn’t help but stare in appreciation of the wonderful architecture.

It had all happened in such a rush, both of your parents telling you that they’d take care of the wedding and all you and Jimin had to do was get married without creating a scene. So, now, here you were, in a beautiful white wedding dress with Jimin standing in front of you looking- dare you say- dashing.

“Do you, Park Jimin, take Kang Y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?” His nod shatters your heart, and you can’t help but glare. It was supposed to be the man you loved over there, not some rich boy who didn’t even know how to fold a shirt.

“Now, with the power bestowed upon me, I pronounce you both man and wife.” Everybody stands up, loud cheers filling the area as you finally look at Jimin, his chocolate eyes meeting yours. He’s moving closer before you know it, and the one second he gives you before placing his lips on yours is unhelpful. It’s not even a kiss, just a press of his lips against yours but he makes it seem longer by tilting his head and blocking your connected lips from the view of others. He pulls off but hovers there for a few more seconds to make it seem longer and when he finally pulls back, your eyes are wide and cheeks ablaze.

You look around, the smiling faces of all the people invited to your wedding forcing you to crack one yourself. And although you hate Park Jimin for what he just did- steal your first kiss. You’re not able to resist touching your lips once, the feeling of his plump ones on yours still ghosting around.

The food’s delicious, the people are sweet, and Jimin doesn’t bother you much so you think your marriage isn’t a total flop for you. When you’re in your room, and it’s late at night- the celebrations having just gotten over, the door opens and Jimin enters, clad in his white shirt that has half the buttons unbuttoned. But it isn’t his shirt that catches your attention, nor is it his black dress pants that hug his thighs deliciously, no.

It’s the girl in the wine red dress in his arms who’s kissing him like her life depends on it. Neither one of them have noticed you sitting on the bed, too caught up in their heated make-out session to even bother opening their eyes.

You’re frozen, unable to move as your eyes are fixed on the way Jimin’s hands travel across her entire body, like he wants her. He walks forward, the girl’s back facing you and even as they come closer to the bed where you’re sitting, your mind has stopped working and you’re unable to get up. They’re even closer and Jimin opens his eyes for a split second only to find the bed to lay her down properly, but his eyes meet yours.

Those brown eyes filled with lust widen, only ever so slightly but you notice it. You stare at him, waiting and hoping for him to say something. He parts his lips, and you assume it’s to apologise but as soon as you see what he mouths, your heart stops beating, even the little hope you had left that Jimin wouldn’t hate you leaving you.

“Do you mind?” His words stab through your heart, and you’re glad that he says them silently so that the girl doesn’t hear him and just continues mouthing her way down his neck. Getting up as quickly as possible, you run out the door, shutting it behind you so he doesn’t see the tears in your eyes.

You run. Where? You don’t know, but all you want right now is to get away from all the problems in your life and live freely without anyone holding you back. You knew that Jimin didn’t love you, obviously. But what he did right now, and how his eyes didn’t show a single ounce of regret as he asked you to leave your shared bedroom, left you shocked. And questioning yourself. You had always been taught to love yourself, probably one of the best things your parents did but in this moment, all you knew was that your husband definitely didn’t want you. Despite everything, he was still your legal husband and you couldn’t do anything about it. Your husband who left you feeling worth nothing.

thanks for reading! feedback is always welcome <3

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dropsofletters · 3 years

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how to lose someone in seven steps? | xiaojun

— summary: fencing his way through life, dejun knows too much about the sport but not enough about love. his sweet tongue conquers the romanticism of this century and puts it to shame—in love with everyone and everything. though, maybe that’s one thing to take to her advantage when trying to break his heart. making him fall for her shouldn’t be that difficult.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: xiao dejun x reader — genre: fencer!au ; bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au — type: angst ; fluff ; romance ; humor ; drama — word count: 10,584 — playlist: just friends – keshi ; i’m low on gas and you need a jacket – pierce the veil ; that xx – g dragon ; wi ing wi ing – hyuk oh ; lightweight – demi lovato ; better man – 5 seconds of summer ; love u – monsta x ; lucky strike – troye sivan — note: you should read the prologue before reading this route.

One day with a headache is usual; it comes with the stress of the heat of summer, the rambling of people around oneself, and with the overall activities of a busy schedule. The second day, she really starts pondering if the medicine she is taking for her headache is even doing any good—she reads the contents of the box filled with medicine, thinking of the doses, pondering on why it has worked on other occasions but it just doesn’t work now.

The third day she wakes up with a headache, she truly thinks she’s going to snap at the world. How dare they wake her up to the thumping inside her head? Words mingling together in thoughts that she can’t even comprehend.

But the reason of her headache goes past her room—it’s not the bright colors of her rented apartment that take her off guard, neither is it the scent of vanilla that she sprays on her bathroom every night and somehow makes its way into the bedroom, it’s because someone is calling her incessantly before the alarm even goes off. The perks of being an unemployed singer, however, fall on the fact that she doesn’t really have a schedule to start with.

Pushing her tiger blanket off her body, her fingertips reach for her phone. Out of the many contacts, this one surprises her the most—Shishi is the type of woman to write a text with shortened greetings, a simplistic reply and then, she’s off to her own world of anime shows and cosplaying. Much to her delight (or to her lack of understanding, thereof), Shishi is calling at six in the motherfucking morning.

If it’s Shishi, it must be an emergency.

She flops back onto her bed, pulling the covers up her face when she replies, phone to ear, “Good morning, Shishi, what are you doing up?”

“I haven’t slept.” Shishi is quick to reply, her soft voice coming in short spurts, and by the sip she hears soon after, Shishi’s companion for this morning is coffee. “I, uh, I was playing videogames, you know, and I was just thinking about what you said about breaking my ex’s heart four days ago.”

Oh, maybe that’s why she has had a headache the past three days. Alcohol had been her form of speech at that moment, when her hand grabbed Shishi’s phone with a picture of her and her ex-boyfriend, something Xiao…all she can remember now is that he is the supposed ‘Fencer Asshole’.

“Ah, Shishi…I think it was just a joke.” The feeling of her covers softening the stress on her cheeks has her closing her eyes. Just a few more hours of sleep before she has to worry about the world outside her cheap apartment. “I was drunk, Shishi. I…I don’t want to date any of my friends’ exes, no matter how attractive they are or how much they hurt them—”

Shishi lets out a groan that comes from the depths of her frustration. “But—you don’t get it. You’ve never been heartbroken. It’s…it’s the worst thing in the world.”

Opening her eyes, she stares at the harsh yellow walls of her bedroom. “Reason as to why you shouldn’t want to cause that upon someone else. It doesn’t make you a better person—”

For a moment, silence fills the air, and she thinks the call must’ve come to an end, just when she is about to slip her phone off her ear to cut the call, Shishi speaks again. “He played games with me,” She says, voice softer than what she gets to hear when she’s playing videogames. Shishi somehow lives believing that the stories she sees in manga and anime will become her reality. They never do. “Spent three months of my life last year kissing me, making me feel unique, having me going to every single one of his events only to say we were just friends after. I can’t deal with that.”

“And I’m so sorry, Shishi, but that just happens—”

“Please, you promised!” For a second, she thinks back to the time Shishi was truly heartbroken by Xiao Dejun. Locked in her room without being able to get out, weeping so silently that no one noticed—no one but her group of friends, arriving with her favorite meals, tickets to her favorite shows, and none of them got them out. Only on her own had she been able to break through the ties that held her to Dejun. “I was miserable for months. Sometimes, when I really think about it, I still feel like I can hear his voice. Please, I just need him to get a taste of his own medicine.”

The day she dies, she wants to believe she was a good person—she helped her friends, was there for her family, and did what she thought was good. At this moment in time, she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing—heartbreak is overrated yet huge on its own, but it’s what her friend wants. Revenge tastes sweet, and she hasn’t had anything to eat yet.

“Okay, I will.” She sighs deeply, her vocal cords hurting by the words she just said. “But I need some background on this dude. All I remember is your snotty voice when you were crying for him.”

Almost like the shows she watches, Shishi squeals in delight, slurping some more of her drink before speaking up. “Xiao Dejun, born in Dongguan, a famous fencer that went to the Olympics when he was sixteen. Ah, he doesn’t really enjoy coffee, he prefers tea. Loves dogs, has one, too. Sucker for musicals, has the prettiest eyes…” When she recites him that way, she wonders how in fucking hell Shishi got her heart broken by someone who loves musicals. To be quite honest, if someone asks you to watch CATS on a first date and your heart ends up in shambles, that’s on you. “But he always flirted with one of his trainers.”

“What was her na—?”

“Chenhao.”

“Oh…right.”

“Chenhao. She’s like the anime enemy of my love story,” Somehow, she wonders if Shishi sees the world the same way she does. Either way, she closes her eyes tightly, hoping for the headache to go away. “Tall, has short hair, I think she had a rose tattoo on her shoulder but it’s rarely seen. Hot as all fuck.”

“She sounds super hot.” She replies, only to earn a scoff from Shishi. “Baby, I’m just being honest. You’re hot in your own way, too, but if you were never something official—”

“Ah, ah, don’t go there!” Shishi conquers. “I just need you to be the Chenhao in this situation. Crush his heart. Make him regret it.”

You know, with the lack of gigs coming directly to her—an artist in the rising that doesn’t get past a thousand plays on Soundcloud, this sounds like a good distraction. A fencer, perhaps, is one of the things she would’ve never imagined herself ever dating or looking for, but it is what she gets. The kind of person she has to capture to have Shishi feeling good about herself again.

“What I do for you, Shishi. What I do for you…”

“And I love you for it!”

###

The world rotates in ways we don’t understand—one day, we’re saying we won’t do one thing and some months later, we’re living exactly what we never wanted to go through. It’s the cycle of life; reason as to why fashion gets old and renews itself perfectly, or why the songs we used to listen to years ago can’t seem to get out of our hearts, doesn’t matter if we still know the lyrics or not. With that in mind, entering the local fencing tournament with a ticket in between her fingers and an unpolished denim jacket across her shoulders isn’t something she would have imagined herself doing a week ago. Alas, life works in marvelous ways.

Most of the people by the bleachers are parents, clear in the way they dress, in their cheers and pamphlets that read children’s names. Her heart warms at the whooping from some people, wondering where that side of her life had gone to. You see, life hasn’t been so innocent to her the past few months—lack of employment, songs that speak about her turmoil of thoughts, blending into the hatred she feels for her decisions. A singer on tables in local bars, but never quite making it through. Never quite making an impression.

Instead, she sits down, watching the group of children in fencing uniforms, white and perfectly polished, holding the sabre with expertise, perhaps learning from someone much more knowledgeable. Not a lot of adults are on the center of the tournament, but she catches sight of someone kneeling to fix the sleeves of a kid’s uniform, taking off his mask to showcase his messed-up brown hair and his twinkling, smiling eyes. Her throat dries in recognition, though, he looks much more different from what Shishi had described.

Xiao Dejun is a fallen star at that moment—in his eyes, a universe. His fingers quickly work on the elongated fabric of that kid’s uniform, speaking to him with certainty, grinning in a way that would make anyone comfortable. When he gets back on his feet, taut and slim body in full display under that white uniform (still, leaving something to the imagination), he takes his sabre in between his hands, speaking with certainty.

The sabre glides across the air like a dance, a samba of sorts that romanticizes such unrecognized art. Her vision is filled only with him—with the way he hits his sabre with the kid’s, pulling his mask on his face with quick motions before pushing himself forward. When the kid manages to pinch his stomach, bending the sabre in the process, he can’t help but cheer loudly—heard over the chatter of people, followed by a high five from the kid, perhaps on ten years old at most.

Oh, youth tournament. When Shishi had spoken about a tournament, she thought Dejun would be the one competing, but as he makes his way towards the bleachers, right at the bottom of it, she can’t help but hit herself mentally.

Youth.

He’s not going to participate.

He’s training children in this competition.

No one is seated by his side, so her legs slide away from her seat to move closer to him before anyone could take the space beside him. Her converses hit the bleachers with certainty, excusing herself between the masses of parents to plop herself down next to Xiao Dejun. From up close, with his mask off, she can see a thin layer of seat falling on his forehead and on the perfectly styled bridge of his nose. His thick eyebrows frown together when he is concentrated, a memory of the kind of man he is. Too given to his job, perhaps, too given to this sport.

Competitive.

Meant for winning.

But she’s going to win over him.

“I’m guessing you know a lot about this.” She starts, leaning back and placing her backpack over her legs. Dejun finally looks away from the masses of children preparing themselves for the first portion of the tournament, giving a smile that transforms into a cackle. Anyone is a sucker for humor, you see.

“Well, ah, yes, of course.” Dejun points at his uniform, before crossing his arms over his chest. “I am guessing you don’t know much.”

“There’s always time for learning.” She extends her hand then, introducing herself with certainty as he looks into his eyes. They turn into half-moons at that moment, smiling with delight as he shakes her hand in a greeting. Oddly charming.

“Xiao Dejun. I’m a trainer for the local team.” He introduces himself and, oh, of course he sounds like he has his life together. It wouldn’t surprise her if someone like him had spent the entirety of his youth simply giving himself to his sport. “If you don’t know a thing about fencing, I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“A friend told me the tournament was going to be entertaining…” Her voice trails at that moment, remembering that she shouldn’t say much about Shishi. “And I happened to have free time.”

Naturally, a blush appears across his honey skin. Strawberry meeting the dulcet honey-tea. “What do you do?”

“I’m a singer.” Though, it’s rare for her to ever say that these days. “…Or, I try to be. You see, it’s harder than you think to find someone to listen to your music when you don’t have an artist name.”

“I think your name is nice for an artist.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Dejun conquers, nodding in a way that has her chuckling. Okay, so not only oddly charming—entirely so. “I would listen to your albums.”

She scoffs at his words. “Liar.”

“Ah, not a liar—” But he doesn’t deny it. Sweet-tooth meeting a dulcet mouth, embarking her in a trip for falling. It’s not a wonder that Shishi had been caught in his trap. “But if you want to learn something else apart from singing, I give classes every once in a while. You just have to sign up and all that.”

Looking at Dejun as he bends his knees and pushes the sabre forward, his face hidden behind a mask, somehow doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. If anything, it’s a way to get closer. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.”

Dejun stands up at that moment, running his hands over his thighs to clean them on the white fabric. “I have to leave now, though. I hope you enjoy the tournament.”

Her eyes rake over his figure, a big beam on her features. “Oh, I’ll make sure to do just that.”

If the parents are going crazy on the bleachers, Dejun is the equilibrium—the middle ground that gives everyone strength. Each kid seems to have him as an energizer, looking for his approval even though he’s not the oldest of the trainers. Dejun’s throat must hurt from how much he is cheering for them, clapping widely, taking the sport as an art, and it’s at this moment that she does see Xiao Dejun in a different light, somewhat an angel in between the bunch of shit he did to Shishi.

Yet, unlike hers, his world doesn’t stop. In hopes of talking to him after the tournament is over, she’s surprised to see the groups of parents clouding him with cameras and phones to take pictures of him with their children.

He doesn’t have time for her.

The heat of the summer afternoon pleads for her to take off her jacket, slipping it off and hanging it from her arm as she tries to call a cab. The holes of her graphic t-shirt (all out of style, of course) don’t do much to keep her fresh as she calls the usual number for her ride, only to remain waiting. None of the parents have gotten out to the tournament just yet, leaving her in solitude in the small street, only accompanied by the people in the Chinese restaurant in front of her, who are too occupied in working with their clients.

Though, something takes her off guard—the motorcycle that had passed by just mere minutes ago has passed by again, this time slower, checking out her spot in the sidewalk. She lowers the phone to look at the man with the dark glasses and horrendous, patchy hair. Something about him feels off, but before she could further intensify her discomfort, he rushes off in his motorcycle. But, he’s not too far away, she can still hear the roaring of the engine—

The door opens at that moment, welcoming the sight of Dejun in more comfortable clothing—his brown hair more brushed at this moment, sporting a white t-shirt and dark joggers, pressing his phone up to his ear. “Excuse me, I called a cab for you.” He tells her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her back the slightest. “Ah, I saw you leave on your own…but the neighborhood has been experiencing some robberies from a man in a motorcycle and I doubt you knew. Maybe, wait inside until the cab arrives, okay?”

When Dejun closes the glassed door in front of her, making sure to lock it, she spares one glance his way. He’s much too close, though he doesn’t notice it, his chest touching her shoulder by the time she says: “T—Thank you, I had no idea.”

“Today’s learning day for you, then.” Dejun plays around, giving her one of her infamous smiles, though, his eyes are the most impressive. Somehow, she can’t look away from them. “Ah…I still have to attend the parents. Are you okay with staying here alone?”

She’d rather stay a few minutes more with him, hear that deep tone in his voice that lingers with a smile most of the time. “It’s okay. Go with your fanbase.”

“It’s not a fanbase.” Dejun defends with an eye-roll, before walking backwards. “I hope to see you in my fencing classes one day.”

She shrugs her shoulders, knowing exactly how to keep him at the edge of his seat. “I’ll have to see. Maybe, maybe not.”

Someone calls Dejun’s name at that moment and the sunshine in his eyes stops looking at her, leaving her in darkness.

###

From: Elena Wang.

I still think this is the worst idea you’ve had to date.

Or that we, as a group, have collectively decided upon.

Literally.

Her shoes patter against the sidewalk, moving over to the same place in which the tournament had taken place in two weeks ago. Out of all the texts she expected to get at four in the afternoon on a Monday, Elena talking about how bad it is that they had bet to break someone’s heart wasn’t it. Her manager, however, should be texting her about the demos she had sent out over a month ago…and yet, she receives no response about that.

The air is turning fresher this time of the year, enough to move her flannel as she walks with lack of precision, turning her gaze to the group-chat she shares with her friends.

From: Shishi.

It’s not a bad idea at all.

I was heartbroken because of Dejun.

From: Elena Wang.

And what if she falls in love with Dejun?

He’s handsome.

And she hasn’t gotten laid in well over a year.

I’m sure she could see an average guy from afar and she would be interested.

From: Yifei.

Did Elena just call you a hoe absentmindedly?

Free pussy for everyone including Dejun.

To: Group-Chat.

I won’t fall for Dejun.

Come on.

I’m fine.

From: Yifei.

How did that song go?

I hypnotize you with this pussy…

Now you feel like you can fly.

Fly.

From: Shishi.

She won’t sleep with him.

It’s off the charts.

To: Group-Chat.

Right.

Off the charts.

From: Shishi.

Is that sarcasm in the form of a text?

Opening the door to the fencing area, she hears the swoosh of air that follows when it closes. The warmth is nicely welcomed, though the groups of people gathering by the middle make her nervous. Some around their age, some definitely younger—perhaps teens, if she’s exact—and all more interested in fencing than she is. One person stands out, however, in the middle as he gives instructions out as well as smiles. Those that she can’t get over and done with.

Dejun is quite a fit for the person she would’ve imagined would break her dating drought, but Shishi would absolutely kill her if she decided to get overly intimate with him. Well, that’s what her texts indicate when she checks her phone one last time before putting her bag down on the bleachers.

From: Shishi.

Right?

You won’t sleep with him.

It’s forbidden.

Even I didn’t sleep with him.

From: Yifei.

Let her get some!

God bless the day Jhené Aiko decided to say:

That dick make my soul smile.

That dick make me so proud.

From: Shishi.

She.

Can’t.

See.

His.

Dick.

To: Group-Chat.

Girls, what kind of woman do you take me for?

I’m not that easy to sleep with.

Besides, if Shishi says it’s off the charts, it’s off the charts.

From: Yifei.

No pussy fairy, then?

To: Group-Chat.

The pussy fairy died last year. Now, I can’t even kiss someone.

Or I could, if you just let me do my own damn thing and talk to Dejun.

With that, she locks her phone and puts it inside one of the pockets of her bag.

Dejun awakens a sunset inside of her when he smiles at her, perhaps, thrown to the world and she takes it in between her fingertips as hers. Though, someone else starts talking to her, short dark hair masking enigmatic features on their wake. The rose tattoo on her shoulder is barely covered by the sleeves of her uniform, walking over to her with another fencing outfit.

“You should get changed,” The seductive tone of her voice lingers with the scent of cigarettes, and it is at this moment that she meets Shishi’s biggest enemy: Chenhao. “I don’t know if this is your size or anything, but it’s the best I could find. The class has already started and you don’t want to miss Dejun’s first class.”

Chenhao quirks one of her thin eyebrows when she doesn’t take the uniform firsthand, but after some pondering, she takes it in between her hands. Damn, she’s actually as hot as Shishi described, if not more. Is it possible that she is the one dating Dejun? “I understand.” She says, already slipping into the uniform while talking to Chenhao. “You have high regards of him.”

“I do.” Chenhao complies, nodding at her words.

“Why?”

“He’s a nice fencer.” She starts, looking down at a folder in between her hands before clicking on her pen. “What is your name again?”

After saying it, her hands come behind her back to zip herself up. “…Is he a nice guy apart from a good fencer?”

“Too much of a nice guy.” Chenhao says. “You don’t know how many women we have had to talk to because he was just too nice to them. Some think he’s just flirty, I just think he doesn’t realize that not all people are going to want to be his friend.”

“I mean, he’s an adult, he probably notices—”

“He doesn’t.” Chenhao conquers, already pushing her towards the group of people. “But I can notice that you’re also one of those women that come here to get Dejun’s attention, but I’ll just turn my blind eye on it.”

“I’m not—”

“Hey, long time no see!”

When Dejun speaks and she smiles gleefully, all her excuses fall down as pure and futile lies.

“Dejun!” It’s ridiculous how her knees seem to give in, words filled with roses as she expects his mere attention to fall on her. Those two orbs—penetrating, piercing, become one with her. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was talking to my manager.”

Looking for a sabre, he places it in between her hands, his fingers coming in contact with hers with the softest touch. They’re calloused, if anything, come to learn most athletes don’t have the softest hands. “How did that go?”

“Well, horrible, you see.” She replies, well aware of the fact that— “My manager did not actually talk, but ignore my calls altogether. Texted me saying he hasn’t gotten any news.”

Dejun hisses at that, placing one hand on top of her shoulder as he leads her to the group of people. “Mhm, fencing can always help letting the steam off.”

“You know how to sell your business really well, you know?”

“…I’ve come to learn a thing or two.” Dejun, who grabs his sabre with more of a stronger grasp, though somewhat elegant in his approach, leans one leg forward. “I need you to take positions.” And she does, for something about the way he loves fencing just shows through. The love that knows no lies, no bleeding memories of a past that awes someone not to trust—he loves the sport so carelessly that he’d die for it. Would give his life out just for one moment with the sabre. “Always take into consideration, though, that fencing is about balance, elegance—it’s not about fighting, it’s about portraying art with your body.” Putting the sabre down, he clears his throat. “I’m Xiao Dejun, your instructor for today, and I will start going over the basic things about fencing. What it is, a part of its history, and then, we can move onto the actual sport on itself.”

When she was a student, there was always this one kid that prepared a little too magnificently, and while most people rotted in envy and rolled their eyes at said person’s presentation, she always found them to be…enchanting. To love something—not someone—enough for it to drive you to limits of yourself only to deliver something greater than what you have been taught shows strength. Perseverance is attractive at that moment when Dejun takes his time to instruct everyone how to properly stand when fencing, when putting on his mask and gliding the sabre as if it was part of his body.

But, she’s not that good at it.

At first, she doesn’t notice it—how to notice it when she’s working with people equally as bad as her? But when Dejun stands in front of her, sabre in hand, ready to take over the world, her breath gets caught in her throat, hard to swallow when he comes forward and forward, practically cornering her before the sabre bends onto her stomach.

“Don’t panic,” Dejun indicates. “That’s the first step. If you panic, you don’t act—and if you don’t act, you’re going to lose.”

She takes off her mask, then, a sigh ripping from the depths of her throat when she says: “Not everyone is born with talent like you, Dejun.”

Dejun chuckles at that, taking off his mask as well when he gives an answer. “I wasn’t born with talent for fencing. I just happened to make a mistake when I tried to get in the soccer team. Ended up signing myself up for fencing classes.”

Well, that’s surprising. “No way!”

“I did.” Dejun conquers. “You can’t imagine just how confused I was when I was given a sabre instead of a ball. But I made do.”

“Things happen for a reason.”

“They do.” Though, his eyes glide over her face, looking down at her lips momentarily before sweet laughter creeps up on him. Mhm, maybe he does think that destiny put her there.

Destiny is called Shishi Hong.

And it’s Dejun’s…ex…friend…

Ex friend with benefits?

Ex…friend that he liked?

Ex something.

“What are you doing on Friday?” She asks, lips coming together to wet themselves, and Dejun chuckles.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Dinner sounds nice.”

“Then, dinner it is.” Though, his sweetener ways come back when he quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just come here to ask me out on a date?”

If only he knew that she came here to shatter his heart. Instead to tell him just that, she smiles. “Maybe, maybe not. What’s the fun in telling you?”

Dejun puts his mask down, waving the sabre around her and making her stay on guard. “I have to get the answers out of you?”

“Not with a sabre.” She replies, a squeal on her voice when the sabre bends by her abdomen—again. Expected, honestly.

“How?”

A giggle rips from her throat then, shaking her head at his antics. “You’ll have to figure it out on our date, Dejun.”

“Damn it.” Dejun feigns anger, a pout on his lips when he adds: “Gotta give me your number after this, you know?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Though, she can feel a pair of piercing eyes on hers, different from Dejun’s—they freeze her in place when she realizes Chenhao is looking at her, somehow inspecting her situation. Perhaps, she knows her real intentions, those she has with the man that is being called over again, leaving with an apology as he helps another group of people.

Is she really doing this? Breaking someone’s heart just because of her friend?

###

Leonardo DiCaprio in The Great Gatsby would be proud of her look right now.

The night has never looked better, but with a satin dress clinging to her curves—coming directly from Elena’s wardrobe—and a striped long coat over it, she feels enigmatic. Little does Dejun know when he picks her up in his car, neither too expensive not too new, that she’s laid out to be a seductress. Not to sleep with him, Shishi would have her head if that was the case, but to bathe in confidence and let him seek for more.

Jay, Bingbing’s husband, hides most of his tattoos underneath the burlesque suit he has to wear. Red, fitted to his body, with a bowtie that conceals the lines of tattoos that scatter from his chest. His curly black hair is moved away from his face thanks to a lot of gel, making the strands glisten under the harsh lights of the casino-themed restaurant. It’s a beautiful place, not to be misunderstood, with spacious tables that represent those of poker in Las Vegas, plates themed in ways that would be misunderstood by the public had not they placed food on top of them. People dress up to the nines, and Dejun, sadly, didn’t seem to get the memo.

Shit, she had forgotten to tell him to just dress elegantly.

Though, her eyes can’t help but go over to him—the simplicity of such a man with a gray sweater half-tucked inside a pair of black jeans, who takes her breath away when he pushes his brown hair away from his face with his hand and asks for a table for two. These days, men like him are hard to find. Neruda poems made person, with an ode to love.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a date today.” Jay says from his spot, tapping his finger against the screen to showcase the width of available tables. Not that many, but the one near the window calls out for her name, so she points at it.

“Well, it’s not usual for me to bring a date whatsoever.” She replies, somehow widening her eyes at Jay. She only hopes Bingbing had not told him about their little bet—

“Touché.” Jay jots something down on the notebook before clearing his throat. “Please, let me take your coats while you’re inside. You can come directly to me to grab them once you plan to leave.”

Something about Dejun makes her heart swirl. It shouldn’t, but it does. When a summer day arrives and she has her precious iced tea, the ice always stays at the bottom, and she looks for them, moves them, lets them be the circle of her life for one second or two, maybe a few minutes. It’s nothing interesting, but it’s necessary. Just like him when he lifts his lips in one of those smiles that make his eyes look even more beautiful, placing both hands on top of her shoulders.

“May I?” And really, Shishi would kill her if she read her thoughts. For one, his rosy lips look inviting, eyes asking her if she’d rather imagine him as a sinning angel or a pure devil. Off the charts, she tells herself, shaking her head in the process before recomposing herself.

“Of course,” Though, she almost forgets that she’s dressed to kill—better dressed than she has ever been on any date. Whatever. It’s not like she’s actually seducing him with a back-less dress, but when the fabric of her coat glides across her shoulders, down her arms, she spares one look at him. “I’ll be cold, though.”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He says, though he laughs loudly at his own antics, rubbing his hands against her arms. Resided deep in her heart, it hits her like a train-wreck—she loves the jittery feeling of being there with him. When her cheeks can’t stop blaring heat and her lips are constantly being moistened simply because she wants to talk to him. Is this, perhaps, her way of betraying Shishi?

Her heels click against the tiles as she walks behind Jay, Dejun right by her side, eager to maintain the conversation going. “I didn’t take you as a flirt.”

Dejun’s eyes welcome the light perfectly. Maybe, solar energy was created because of him. Inspired on him. “Some people say I am,” He drags her seat for her to take, making sure not to flash the entirety of the restaurant when sitting down. She crosses one leg over the other as she hears him speak, the man moving over to the seat across from her. “But I actually think I’m just too nice. I don’t mean to flirt.”

Her fingertips trail over the menu, looking at the prices and silently praying for them to gain a coupon or something. The things she does to go out with Dejun.

Wait, wait, wait.

Hold that thought.

It’s the things she does for Shishi, not for Dejun.

Oh, my fucking God—

“I happen to be the least flirty person I know.” She says, going back and forth on their conversation, only to hear Dejun scoff.

“You are flirty.”

If only he knew her group of friends, he wouldn’t say such thing. “I’m not!” Oh wait, he does know someone in her group of things—

Shishi.

When is the last time she replied to one of her texts?

Had she been too busy talking to Dejun to actually embark in a conversation with her friend?

“I know someone you flirt with that is very aware of your flirting.” Dejun replies, thanking the waitress that comes with a glass of water before lifting the menu up in the air. “I’m feeling lobster, what about you?”

She laughs at his antics. Dejun, though not the most well-paid person, happened to embark in a lot of expensive tastes when he was travelling around the world for fencing competitions. At the time, his sponsors would pay everything—but now, the blows go directly to his bank account. “You feel like losing all your money in just one meal?”

“My grandma used to say to eat as if it was the last time you were doing so.” Dejun instructs, the nostalgia in his voice lingering in depths that she doesn’t want to think about. “And I happen to like lobster a lot.”

“I’m having carbonara.” She says, looking over to the waitress when she gives her the menu back.

The woman places the menu against her hip, jotting it out the slightest. “Anything else?”

“I have to drive so cola for me.” Dejun initiates, pointing at her with his chin. “What do you want?”

If she’s wrecking the night, she better do it like a star. “Wine for me. Red.”

“Alright. I’ll have your meals out in a minute.” The waitress says, bowing deeply before moving over to the kitchen. She loses sight of her when she leans her weight back against the leather of the seat she has taken up on.

“So…”

“When are you singing something for me?” Dejun asks, placing his elbows over the table and looking at her directly in the eye. Though she’s on the verge of bankruptcy, she still lifts her shoulders in a shrug.

“When you give me some inspiration, Dejun.”

“Me?” He asks in between a chuckle, using his thumb to point at himself.

“Do I know other Dejun?” She asks, biting on her nail softly as she leans forward as well, capturing his lips in one of her tracing gazes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why does she want to kiss him?

That wasn’t part of the deal—

But…to break his heart…she kind of has to have something with him.

Or is she just being selfish?

“You better not.”

Dejun is a feather that happened to fall in the ocean, and she’s the sailor that came across such thing, grasped it in her hands and now can’t get the fabric away from her fingertips. It clings to her in ways that she isn’t used to, but doesn’t hate at all. His words, the way he laughs, how he embarks in conversation without ever judging her—they meet in their differences, grow in their jokes, build something from the ground up respecting each other. It feels like talking to him goes by too quickly, the food disappearing even though she’s not that hungry. It’s that feeling of fitting with someone that she had heard about but had never lived through, and she absolutely hates it.

…To hide that she actually loves it.

A movie plays inside her head—not with the picture of kids and a house, but with the feeling of needing him to hold her. Everything he says connects him like a puzzle. Xiao Dejun started fencing when he was a child by accident, then it became the light of his eyes. His favorite person is his dad. He doesn’t prefer either tea or coffee, but if he has to choose, he loves tea. He wants to face all his fears even once in his life. He’s easily breakable. Though, he keeps it hidden, a secret that remains in between the two.

She keeps drinking and lets loose a little bit as well. Her dream of being a singer that started when she was twelve years old, watching one of those R&B singers on TV and then, needing to do something of the like. She learned how to play guitar and she does it averagely well, but nothing out of the ordinary. She’s careful—she doesn’t want to live regretting the things she has done, and when he asks if she’s ever regretted anything in her life, she shakes her head.

Never.

But now, she thinks she’s going to regret something—

Breaking his heart.

When the wine meets her head with a thump, she’s already out of the casino, dangling from Dejun’s shoulder as he holds her waist closely. His hand is warm, nice enough to leave her no choice but to daydream of that same hand roaming the entirety of her body. Perhaps, she has lit herself up in fire by drinking while he didn’t, but who cares about that?

No words come up to her mouth when Dejun leans her against the car to be able to open the passenger door, but she takes this time to inspect him. His messy hair, thick eyebrows, deep eyes—those lips, two sins asking for a taste. She needs a taste. Instead, she lets her hands wander, hovering over his waist before tugging at it, bringing him closer to look directly into his eyes.

He chuckles, playing with the strands of her hair to push them away from her face. “What’s up?”

“I want to do something…” She trails her voice, biting down on her bottom lip as she lets her utmost desire speak. She’s careful, of course, love is not what she wants—but somehow, she wants to relish on the feeling of him, having him underneath her to press kisses on his neck, make his world shake in the way that would settle her as a confident woman. It’s a promise to herself: sex. “Only if you want, though.”

Dejun must have caught up on what she said, his smile falling as he widens his eyes. “Something like w—what?”

“Like doing me.” She replies, heat catching up with her face, making Dejun chuckle as he shakes his head.

“I won’t do that. You’re drunk, first.” He instructs. “And secondly, I don’t have sex with people on the first date. Sorry.”

She tries to push herself away at that moment, embarrassment making a home out of her, but her back comes in contact with the door of the car. “O—Oh, shit, sorry, forget I even said that. I’m so stupid—”

Dejun shakes his head rapidly. “N—Not that I don’t want you! I just…I have a weird view of love, I guess. And sex, altogether.” Dejun takes the spot beside her, looking up at the sign that reads the name of the restaurant. “God, you’re so hot. I…I don’t know how I am capable to deny you, but I am doing it.”

Something ignites in her heart, nodding at what he says. “It’s okay.” She whispers. “What’s that view you have of love and sex?”

“That sex has erased love. Now love is the taboo.”

She chuckles at what he says, humming along. “You’re right.”

“I’m a romanticist, I guess.” Dejun instructs. “I’ve…I’ve grown with the idea of just…just having that foundation of feeling something before I get in the sheets with someone. Not that I don’t think it’s stupid sometimes—”

“It isn’t.” She cuts him short, opening the passenger’s door in the process. “Sex is overrated.”

“It is.”

“And I’m sorry for asking.”

“No, no—!” What he doesn’t know, however, is that she shouldn’t have even thought about it. Shishi comes up to her brain right at that moment. “Maybe, uh, maybe we can talk about our expectations on the subject on the second date?”

Before she could get inside the car, she quirks an eyebrow. “Second date?”

“Only if you want to…”

With a big smile on her face, she says: “Why wouldn’t I want to? It’s you we’re talking about, Dejun.”

###

Mondays have become the designated fencing day for the past month. Not that she has gotten any better—but it’s an excuse to see Dejun.

Just as she’s walking through the neighborhood, phone in hand (and she can hear Dejun cursing at her for doing this), she reads through the group-chat. Lately, she hasn’t been checking up much with her friends. Her manager has had her auditioning for a bunch of shows in hopes of getting in, to no avail, and along with that, she has tried to balance out her romantic life to spend more time with Dejun. Since…breaking his heart…could be easier if she gets to know him better.

Or it’s just one big excuse to get to know him.

From: Bingbing.

[Picture Attached]

Jay just sent me this because he had forgotten he had taken this picture.

Here we have Xiao Dejun using his pretty eyes on our designated heartbreaker.

The picture showcases her date from nearly three weeks ago. Dejun is seated across from her, cheek held up by his palm as he looks directly at her. Her lips are parted, speaking about something with wide hand movements, and she can’t help but laugh. His eyes settle on her with a twinkle she likes.

From: Shishi.

Hold up.

Why did you dress up hot?

Were you trying to get inside his pants?

Well…uh, how does one tell one of her best friends that she tried to when drunk, but that he gently denied because he just wasn’t ready?

To: Group-Chat.

Oh my God, Shishi, no.

From: Shishi.

Why did you dress up hot, then?

To: Group-Chat.

Because it’s a date…

If you were going to be all jealous over Dejun, why did you ask me to break his heart?

From: Shishi.

He looks very fucking happy right there.

Why did you offer to break Dejun’s heart?

Did you just think he was handsome and that you wanted to fuck him?

To: Group-Chat.

Calm down, Shishi.

You’re talking to me as if I’m some whore.

From: Shishi.

You have more of a body count than I do.

To: Group-Chat.

How do you even know that?

Stop making up bullshit.

Her ears blare up with heat at that, pushing her phone into the depths of her pocket before lifting her gaze. Shishi has some fucking nerve to talk to her that way. As if it wasn’t one of her grand ideas, even though she denied, to have her meeting up with Dejun. Whatever.

The air bites at her skin, going through her white t-shirt as she nears the fencing place. Instead, she’s welcomed by the sight of two people already outside. Not one of the students, but two of the instructors instead. Chenhao is leaning against the wall, cigarette in between her fingertips as Dejun talks closely to her. Chenhao is a bit taller than Dejun, one leg crossed over the other as he smirks down at her. His eyes inspect her features, taking the cigarette from her hand before stepping on it. Chenhao doesn’t seem phased, instead crossing her arms over her chest as if challenging.

Something creeps up inside her when Dejun talks to her softly, like a flower in the middle of a garden that he wants to see grow.

“Dejun! Chenhao!” She calls out at that moment, moving over to them to see Chenhao lifting her gaze and Dejun smiling as if he had not been caught strangely close to Chenhao. The woman in question breathes out her name before grinning.

“You still come to class; I see.” Chenhao spares one look at Dejun before shrugging. “Let’s see how much this lasts.” Before she could further question her sentence, Chenhao opens the door of the salon before entering, leaving a trail of smoke behind her.

“…What the hell does that mean?” She asks in a mere whisper, watching Dejun who shakes his head.

“I have no idea.” He replies, but she can call bullshit on that.

“I think you have a good idea of what she means.” She says, looking at the cigarette that lays lifelessly on the gray concrete. “What is it? Are Chenhao and you a thing or…?”

Dejun chuckles at her words, blowing a raspberry at the end. “Oh no,” He denies quickly. “She used to train with me for the Olympics, but she has been fucking it all up with her addiction to cigarettes. I need her to get back in the game.”

For a moment, she thinks about all the times she had helped her friends—and how they had helped her, too. Maybe, that is why she is here with him on the first place. “That’s good, but it’s her life. The only person that can change her is herself.”

Dejun stares off into the street, that restaurant in front of them one that they had never visited. The city fits him just as well as nature. Something about him is just universal. “Yeah, but I’ll try to change her until she goes back to the person she used to be. I believe in her.”

Now, she realizes that her heart is beating too rapidly—both in jealousy and in happiness, somehow. “So, that’s why a bunch of women fall in love for you, huh?”

“What?”

“That dreamy look…those eyes…” She whispers, a rasp in her tone. “That’s the tactic.”

“I have flirty eyes, I guess.” He answers, running his hand over her arm before catching her fingers with hers. “But, as of now, I only use them on one person.”

“And that would be…?”

“You.”

###

Once you see someone’s apartment, it’s over. That’s either for a hook-up, you’re on the friendzone, or simply because they’re comfortable enough with you to show you the place in which they are their truest selves.

Dejun’s place is different from hers. Where do they meet? They’re both a bit disorganized. Dejun scatters uniforms across his living room, the white walls contrasting what she normally sees him in—that bone colored fencing uniform that she has managed to learn how to love. By the right, a small kitchen remains almost spotless, if she doesn’t count the random snacks she sees around. She thinks she just saw crackers next to noodles, and if he’s having them together, she may sue him.

“Don’t tell me you eat crackers with noodles.”

Dejun closes the door behind him, putting down the packages of chips they had just bought for their movie night. “Noodles with crackers, with saltines, with chips. I once had them with chocolate cookies…but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Ew, Dejun!” She complains, swatting his arm softly as she takes a seat on the couch, pushing the uniform he had draped on the arm’s rest to the side, folding it carefully in the process. “I don’t know what’s more of a disaster, this living room or your stomach.”

“My mom didn’t raise a guy who is scared of eating.” Dejun implies, already opening a bag of extra spicy chips before lending it over to her. “You know what the fun thing about this snack is?”

“What?” Her voice lingers with happiness, something that always comes when being around Dejun.

“That we don’t know which ones are spicy and which ones are, well, not spicy.” He plops himself down to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder that she can’t help but take. Why is it that the air feels far more favorable when by his side? “And I’m betting you’re going to end up biting all the spicy ones.”

“Ha!” She replies, already looking for the remote to search for a movie. Something comedy, perhaps, she’s feeling like watching something of the like of dark comedy—maybe Horrible Bosses? “I’m betting I’m not. I’ve got wits, baby.”

“And looks, too.” She hears him say, soon after pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’ll eat the spicy ones for you.”

“You’ll like them. That’s not fair.”

“And?”

“…Asshole.” She replies, well aware of the nickname Shishi always calls him—fencer asshole.

That couldn’t be more far from the truth.

It’s the comfort of being half on his body, laying her head on his chest and feeling his heart thump to the beat of a trap song, as if the bass is boosted and he goes from slow to quick. His lips wrap on big smiles, laughing like a maniac at the portions she loves the most, fingers raking over her hair, going through the portions that he knows she likes the most. She could fall asleep like this, with one of his hands resting on her hip, rubbing soothing circles over her jeans. This is not the type of imagery she’d show to her friends.

But who cares about her friends right at this moment?

What can she do when she says she’s cold, and Dejun drapes his jacket on top of the two of them, taking the arms to bring her closer by tightening them around his waist? The fabric tugs at the two of them uncomfortably, and she can’t stop laughing as they are face to face, looking into his precious eyes that create a rich brown mirror for her to look at herself into. It’s at this moment that she knows she wants Xiao Dejun, not only as a heartbreak, but as someone else—she wants to be able to be like this for as long as this romance is supposed to last.

She doesn’t want to break his heart.

“I thought you weren’t a flirt.” She tells him, her breath ghosting on top of his face, and his eyes trail down to look at her moving lips. It’s the kind of memory that will forever live in her brain—when she feels the most lightweight.

“I get by.” Dejun replies, leaning forward to peck her lips softly, delicately, as if he has all the time of the world, licking his lips before leaning forward again, reputing her in an adventure that she shouldn’t have taken place in, but she does. Her fingers thread through his locks, moving her body up until her legs rest in between his, chest pressed to his, body molding to his as if they were meant to be united. The sound that fills the air connects their lips in rhythmic motions, ones that she can’t get out of her head, breathing heavily against his lips.

Shishi said not to kiss him, not to let his hands roam as he touches her waist, her hips, her thighs, becomes one with the knowledge of what she likes and what she doesn’t. Shishi said not do this, to break his heart.

But at this very moment, it would be easier for Dejun to break her heart instead.

###

Though her manager, Hao, had been clear about her mini appearance at a café, she doesn’t feel less nervous. For once, she can say that cafés are the worst thing to ever be created—vintage, nostalgic, filled with teenagers who want to have as many Americanos as possible and adults that think the beige walls and white tables are their aesthetic. Croissants, coffee and cream, someone with tea that she can’t quite recognize, and a guitar that weights heavily on her lap.

The seat she is on is uncomfortable, trying to tune her guitar before she starts singing. Her manager sits along with Bingbing and Shishi, both having brought themselves here even when it clashed with their work hours—they needed to bring support, but all they did was stare at her as her hands shook. It’s been a while since she has truly sung in front of people, full sets, and live above all.

She needs to gain some confidence, but she doesn’t. The guitar strums uncomfortably and she hears someone coughing when she leans into the microphone. She closes her eyes tightly, trying to remember the love songs she has written for the past two months. Memories of Dejun, of the sand in between her fingers, the songs they have shared together, of the smell of cigarettes that never comes from him but from Chenhao instead. Things she dreams about with him, for him, all drowning her away from the nervousness that keeps her on surface.

And she lets go.

“Welcome, I’m going to be singing for the next two hours—” She says, instructing her name into the microphone before sending a smile towards her manager. “You can ask for some songs later on, if I know it, I will sing it. Whatever it is…I’m here for you.”

She thinks she has it together—this is only part of her dream. Someday, she will get discovered, she tries to convince herself, but the moment her song starts in a major tune, E, then C, she loses it all. Her fingers continue playing, but when she parts her lips, the note comes out flat, as if her vibratos hadn’t been practiced…or if she didn’t know how to hold her tone at all.

The song goes on for another two minutes, far from what she wanted but somehow, not bad for those listening. Only when she hears the door of the café opening, she opens her eyes, welcoming the stance of the man that enters the café. Cladded in a striped shirt and light jeans, Dejun crosses his arms over his chest to wave his hand softly, smiling at her before leaning against the wall next to the entrance door.

And with all those creamy colors and the smile on his face—the smile of his eyes that she has never managed to understand, she finally gets to sing again.

It’s weird how he brings all these emotions up on her, how he has become such a comfortable feeling for her, far enough for her to concentrate only on him for the first hour, only stopping to take a drink of her tea and warm up her vocal cords. It’s at that moment that she sees two people nearing her, and she expects one of them to be Dejun, but when she feels a pair of skinny arms wrap around her, the smell of bleach coming from someone’s hair, she knows it’s Shishi.

Her beloved Shishi.

And her beloved Dejun.

What a shame she can’t have both.

Jewels shine in his eyes when she pulls away, recognition overtaking him when Shishi says: “Oh fuck, I’m so proud of you!” And the excitement of her voice is welcomed by a shy smile from her, capturing Dejun’s glance as he lifts his eyebrows, mouthing a ‘we’ll talk later’ to her.

“Shishi—”

“We have to go work right now,” Bingbing says, fixing the bag on her shoulder. “But you’re killing it, babe. For real.”

“Thanks…”

Though, she can’t say much as they slip away from the café, Dejun taking careful steps forward, as if pondering to get near her, not even cutting the situation short when he reaches her, frowning deeply when he asks: “You know Shishi? You’re friends with her?”

“Ah…” She rubs the back of her neck, taking another sip from her Styrofoam cup. She could say the truth—or a distorted version of it, but instead, she opts to look him straight in the eyes. She doesn’t want to miss any of them. Shishi once said he was egotistical, that he played with a bunch of women all at once; games that she would never understand, but she’d rather play this game than not play it at all. “I—I know Bingbing, I don’t exactly—I don’t consider myself close to Shishi.”

“We…uh, she had a crush on me for the longest time and was a bit obsessive about it.”

Now, she knows. Now, she finally sees that they were just friends…and maybe, she misunderstood everything. “I had no idea.”

“You sure?”

With the straightest face, she fixes the strap of her guitar, strumming a chord before nodding. “Of course, baby, why would I lie to you?”

But she does it straight to his face, singing all those songs that mean the truth but knowing one thing—

She has to lose one. Either Shishi or Dejun.

###

Dejun shakes her autumn does to its leaves, softly, making her fall more and more for him in the days they meet and finally, in the first night they shared. It takes Dejun almost three months for him to feel fully comfortable—for the romantic in him to clad him away from the clothing that covers him, for his breaths to mingle with hers as they become one, hands placed on top of her head, lips wanting nothing more than to connect with hers. It is as though every sound that leaves him is music for her, and maybe, they’re the inspiration for the album she will once have.

When she goes to sleep, she goes with a visual in mind—Dejun, laying on her bed, with one hand behind his head, the other resting on his bare chest, the taut muscles from his days and nights of training leaving nothing to the imagination. Her lips connect to the mole on his forehead, speaking softly against his skin about the beauty of him. She doesn’t think she will ever forget it.

But the night clashes into sleep, awakening her only when she hears the loud rustle of the sheets, accompanied by the harsh sound of someone mumbling to themselves. Cuss after cuss after cuss. When she opens her eyes, groggily at first, she realizes that half of the covers have draped away from her, leaving her bare to the world, but the man in front of her doesn’t care, holding her phone in her hand as he puts on his pair of jeans.

She doesn’t know why her heart skips a beat—she doesn’t talk to other men romantically, but somehow, she knows there are secrets on that phone that she doesn’t want Dejun to see. How in the world did he manage to figure out her password?

“What are you doing with my phone?” She asks, barely audible as she pulls the covers farther up her chest, covering herself up as Dejun finally looks at her. “Dejun, why were you looking through my phone?”

“I saw your password the first time we met, accidentally. I figured it was the same.” Though, he throws the phone on the bed, close enough for her to grab and unlock it. What he was looking at hits her like a train—he was reading through her group-chat, months and months worth of information displayed in front of her eyes. “And I wasn’t going to do it, but Shishi kept calling you this morning and I answered, yeah, sorry, I answered your fucking phone but Shishi was even more surprised to hear I was staying the night at your place.”

Fuck. Shishi must be fucking devastated. “Dejun—”

“So, Shishi said—” He puts his shirt on before sighing. “Shishi fucking said that she didn’t know we were still seeing each other, considering that you told her that you had broken things with me…and for someone who said she wasn’t that close to Shishi, that sounded awfully like friendship.”

“Dejun…” Her voice breaks, even worse than when she’s nervous and she’s about to sing. “It’s not what you think—”

“No, it wasn’t what I thought. I thought that you actually liked me, that I was finally having a good thing for once—”

“But I do like you!”

Dejun, out of anger, grabs one of the cushions they had dropped on the floor last night and tosses it to the wall behind her, thumping loudly until it falls, making her lamp almost fall for the floor had she not grabbed it. “Stop fucking lying! Shishi said that you were supposed to break my heart. She didn’t know how, and supposedly, you told her you had done it already, so I looked through your phone and much to my surprise, all I see are details about our dates, about how in love you have me—”

All an act, she thought it was. She wanted to keep both her friendship, her pride and her relationship with Dejun. It backfired, heavily, enough to take her breath away. “Dejun, baby, I’m so sorry. Just—When I started doing this, I thought you were an asshole. Shishi said you broke her heart to pieces and I wanted to do it for my friend—”

“Then, why didn’t you fucking tell me?” Dejun asks, shaking his head after, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process. “No. How fucking immature do you have to be make a bet like that? Love isn’t a fucking game.”

“W—Well, I was told it was for you.”

“I’m just nice to people, sorry. I never played with Shishi. That’s called being selective—talking to people and seeing if they’re your fit or not. I’m not obligated to shit.” His voice is venom when she looks through the masses of messages, how she aspired to make everyone believe she didn’t like him, but—

“Dejun, I’m so into you. Please, please, just believe me in this one.” Tears stream down her face at that moment, standing up with her blanket tightened across her body. “Dejun, I’m so sorry.”

“Congratulations.” Dejun whispers, opening the door to her room and having her follow closely. She almost trips a bunch of times, the blankets becoming one with her feet as she moves. “You broke someone’s heart. You were fucking right. It was that easy.”

“Dejun!”

When the entrance door closes right at her face, her fist comes in contact with the surface. In reality, she had to lose someone…

What a shame it was the person she loved.

To: Group-Chat.

I broke someone’s heart.

Mine.

#xiaojun scenarios #xiaojun #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #how to lose someone in seven steps?

83 notes · View notes

crystalrose555 · 3 years

Text

Don't make me slap you pt 20

Oh boy, this one’s a long noodle~

“How about this one?”

“No.” “Ok, this one?” “No.”

“Levi, why did you bother tagging along if you are just going to turn down every outfit?”

“Because I still think that Marley shouldn’t go. She should stay home with me.”

“Over my dead body, Levi. This is one of the biggest parties of the year, anyone who's anyone is going to be there and Mochi and I are going to be stunning together~” Levi groaned as he looked around Majolish, seeing the vast amount of customers looking for clothing and outfits for the upcoming event. Meanwhile, Marley sighed as she placed clothing back on the rack and turned to the brothers.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is going to work. You demons sure are long, have any of you heard of the terms ‘plus and petite’?”

“See? Look, it’s fate, Marley and I are just going to stay home and marathon The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl.” Levi sharply proclaimed with a triumphant smile on his face.

Asmo gave a flat look at Levi before turning to Marley with a beaming smile.

“Mochi honey, why don’t we ask Levi to make your outfit?” Levi nearly choked on air as he realized what was happening.

“Wait, Levi, you know how to sew clothing?”

“Y-yeah, I just sew together cosplays and stuff, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a pretty big deal to me, all I can are patch-up jobs. It’s really impressive.” Marley smiled at the nervous demon.

Levi’s face quickly heated up as a crooked smile formed across his face. Asmo, seeing his brother falling for his bait, turned and held Marley close, sealing the deal.

“Don’t worry, Mochi, I’ll design something beautiful for you so that you don’t look like a costume disaster~”

“Like hell, normie! For your information, I’ve done custom requests that have won many cosplay competitions, so I can make something that will look great on her!”

“Oh really, then I assume you won’t need any help with Mochi’s measurements~”

“Her m-measurements?” Levi stammered out.

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

“Alright, make sure you are all on your best behavior. This may be a party but I don’t want an incident like last time, do you hear me?”

“Oi, why are you starin’ at me when you say that?” “Because you are usually the first one to cause trouble.”

Lucifer sighed as he took a good look at his brothers in their polished demon forms. Surely, there will be a day when they would be able to carry themselves like proper lords of Devildom but sadly this party wasn’t one of them. He peered through his fingers and took a glance down to see a grumpy Marley who had a purple bow on top of her head for the occasion. He smirked at the sight and took his leave, disappearing into the crowd to go to Diavolo’s side in the far distance. His brothers took a sigh of relief while Marley tried to scratch off the stubborn accessory.

“It’s no use, Mochi. It’s enchanted to stay on during the party.” Satan declared while stroking his chin.

She just snorted at him, flipped on her back, and flailed about wildly on the floor. Spectators stared and giggled at the fuzzy animal flopping on the marble, leaving the demon brothers looking away in embarrassment. In a haste, Mammon squatted down to her while his brothers tried to block some of the gazes.

“Hey, it ain’t comin’ off, so quit flippin’ out like a fuckin’ tuna!” He barked.

Marley stopped and barked back at Mammon’s face, causing him to fall back on his bottom. At that exact time, Asmo turned up his natural charm and drew the eyes of all the spectators to his form. Satan sighed and gave a slight nod to Beel who then picked up the irritated seal and quickly walked off with her slapping against his forearm in annoyance.

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

Levi paced back and forth in a less crowded spot in the grand hall while Satan and Mammon stared at him in disapproval.

“Levi, will you stop? You’re going to wear out the floor at that rate.” Satan pointed out.

“Why am I the only one who’s worried? This is a major story event and it always gets crazy during story events!”

“Can you translate? I don’t speak nerd.” Mammon jeered.

“I’m saying something already went wrong! She shouldn’t need this long to shed her skin, she was dressed back at the house!” “Hmm, maybe that bow had a stronger effect than we thought.” Satan contemplated.

“Naw, that ain’t it, take a look.”

Suddenly, Mammon pointed in the distance, drawing his brothers’ attention to Asmo leading Marley to the opposite side of the room.

“That dirty double-crossing normie!” Levi hissed as he slithered through the crowd, leaving Satan and Mammon to follow.

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

“Isn’t she the cutest when she’s next to me?” Asmo chimed as he held Marley tightly while showing her off.

Simeon and Solomon chuckled while Luke and Marley shared a sigh from Asmo’s enthusiasm of showing her off as much as possible.

“Yes, she’s very lovely, Asmo, but maybe you would like to let your friend breathe on her own.” Simeon gently suggested.

Pouting, Asmo released Marley from his grip and then latched onto Solomon’s arm. Marley straightened up and gently straightened her outfit with a sigh of relief while everyone else gave into soft laughter.

“But truthfully, you look astonishing tonight, Marley. I take it that Asmo designed it himself?” Simeon pointed out.

Marley looked down at herself with slight embarrassment before answering.

“Levi and Asmo made it for me when we couldn’t find anything on the rack. I have to say that when I heard about a party, I wasn’t expecting this.” She claimed while looking around at the extravagant hall.

“Hmph, I guess demons can throw a pretty decent party once in a while.” Luke snarked.

“Luke, don’t be rude, besides you’ve been eating everything from the desserts since we’ve got here.”

“Only for research! Besides, I wanted to see Mochi again since I can barely find her at school.” Luke stammered out with a red face.

“You really like Mochi, don’t you, Luke?” Simeon teased.

Luke turned his head with a hmph and rushed over to the dessert spread in the distance. Simeon shook his head and followed after him, leaving Marley alone with Asmo and Solomon chuckling. The music picked up and swelled as demons began to swarm the dance floor in couples.

“Marley, any chance I can have your first dance?” Solomon asked with a smile.

Marley tilted her head gently to the side.

“I guess so but I don’t know how to waltz.”

“Don’t worry, Solomon is a great dancer, Marley. I’m leaving you in good hands, so have fun~”

With that, Asmo left the duo alone to attend to his admirers. Taking his hand, Marley followed Solomon to the dance floor and slowly joined the musical current that had trapped all the dancers.

“See, you’re a natural Marley.”

“Really? I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” “I don’t think that’s what you’re really worried about. You’re worried that someone will recognize you from school, am I right? It would be bad for anyone to realize that you party-crashed this event.”

“I guess you got me there, but Levi and Asmo placed an enchantment on my dress to make me unrecognizable to everyone here unless I reveal myself to them.”

“I remember that spell, Asmo had me develop it so he could see what people say about him but that only lasted an hour or so before he wanted attention again.” He sighed causing Marley to chuckle.

“I have to admit, I’m having more fun dancing than I thought.” “I’m glad, it’s a lot easier to waltz on two feet than four flippers, huh?” “Yea-”

Marley’s mouth snapped shut as she shot a sharp glare on the white-haired sorcerer who smiled carelessly. Her grip tightened into a vice as cold air radiated from her body. Ice crystals started to form on Solomon’s shoulder as she dug her nails in.

“Easy, easy, that spell won’t last if you cause a scene,” Solomon warned with a smile.

Marley turned her head away from him, her eyes glanced over coldly.

“Come now, don’t give me the cold shoulder. I finally got a chance to talk to you. ” He chuckled.

“...How?”

“I had a bit of a feeling since seals aren’t common as witch familiars but Asmo confirmed my suspicions.”

Marley’s icy gaze returned along with her biting cold.

“Don’t be mad at Asmo, he had the best intentions. You want to go home, right? I’m surprised you lasted so long without returning to the sea but I guess hanging out with Leviathan has its advantages.”

The duo continued to dance and swirl while Marley remained silent.

“...What do you want then? There’s no reason for you to help me and you don’t seem the type to completely give in to Asmo.”

Solomon offered a warm smile in return.

“I just want a chance to talk with you, I’ve always wanted to meet a selkie. Your people are such rare creatures and whenever I find one, they always turn back into a seal and swim away.”

“Are you sure it isn’t the fact you’re a shady magician?”

“Come on, now that’s mean! ”Solomon laughed out hardily as they continued to spin.

40 notes · View notes

imma-potatoo · 3 years

Text

Hello Hello friends!

This is going to be my first full fanfic which is written for k.c.cosplays_13 on tiktok. If you don't follow them you should. They have amazing sanders sides cosplays and are a really nice person.

*Logan is a dark side in this fic*

A Typical Movie Night

Ships: Loceit

Janus was running back and forth between the couch and the kitchen, stepping over the occasional blood spatter and thrown about crayons.

It was the dark side movie night; aka, the night where they watched horror and documentaries until it's three am or they pass out. After getting into a huge argument with the light sides, Logan refuses to watch anything disney or animated. Not that the others minded, they weren't a huge fan.

Humming a show tune that he could barely remember the name of, Janus slowly cut up a vegetable tray. Making sure that the pieces were even and arranged perfectly on the plate. He picked it up to put it with the rest of the food on their coffee table, only to slip on a crayon.

A huge bang sounded throughout the dark household, veggies were everywhere, a plate was broken and Janus layed on his back. Face mixed between anger, slight pain and annoyance. He groaned and went to stand up only to have a blue side leaning above him with a spreading smile.

"The vegetables are meant to go on the plate Darling, not on the floor," a slight smirk rised on his cheeks -slightly showing off a dimple- as he helped the yellow side up, brushing off a few peas.

Janus let out a massive sigh, twisting his neck so it let out a crack. "I'm not going to kill the other two if they keep making a mess like this," fixing his hat slightly, "I didn't just clean this morning!" Janus couldn't stay irritated, not when he saw Logan with a ear to ear grin and soft chuckles leaving his lips.

Logan was so much happier as a dark side. He still played the role of logic but he was free to be himself. He opened the buttons on his shirt, he left the tie hanging around his neck -instead of having it suffocate him- and he even wore ice blue makeup sometimes. Logan could use little nicknames and still be taken seriously. He didn't even have to worry about his Crofters being taken! Right now though. Logan just had his dress shirt with a few buttons undone and a little bit of blue eyeshadow.

Logan towered over his boyfriend. Grabbing Janus' hand and pulling his body to his chest. Wrapping the right arm around his back and using the left to remove his gloves. Logan raised Janus' hand to his lips and gave them a soft - almost like it wasn't there- kiss. Letting out a soft squeak as Logan dusted his lips across his hand, face flushing beet red. Logan's smirk grew as he saw the flustered side. Lifting up Janus' head, he leaned in towards his lips. Only to swerve and whisper in his ear instead.

"As much as I love staring into your beautiful eyes, you are still covered in broccoli. Go get changed, I'll clean up here." Logan pecked his nose with a kiss before stealing his hat.

"Logan don't give that back!" Janus wanted to keep down that grin but he couldn't keep the smile off.

"Nah, I think I'll keep it. It reminds me of you." winking to the already flustered side "now do get changed"

Huffing slightly Janus left his boyfriend to clean up.

Heading up the stairs and passing a orange door and a green door. Janus headed into the black door with a snake and a brain etched on to the wood.

Walking inside the room, ever changing constellations danced upon the ceiling with twisting galaxies with legions of colours lighting the sky. Blue and yellow roses sat on both sides of a elegant four poster bed. A whole wall was just full of bookshelves and two plush chairs were placed in front of a floor to ceiling window, a small tea set off to the side.

Pulling out a yellow T-Shirt (reading: 'What do you call a snake thats 3.14 Metres long? A PI-THON!') Logan would hate it.....It was perfect. He also pulled a pair of black jeans.

Changing quickly, Janus walked back out of the room, only stopping to adjust the roses in the vase. He walked up to the green door and knocked.

"Remus! The movie isn't almost set up, you don't have five minutes! Remember it isn't your movie first."

He continued to walk down the corridor. Stopping to knock on a bright orange door.

"Augustus, the movie isn't starting in five!"

Janus continued his journey to rejoin his boyfriend, walking down the steps and looking up to see the taller side playing on his phone.

The room was all set up. Fairy lights hung above the couch twinkling as the title screen for "Murder Beach Party" played on the television. The coffee table was covered in food. Nachos sat in the middle with chips and candy by its side. Chocolate covered pretzels (Janus' favourite) was the closest to his seat and a new veggie platter was next to it for Logan. Pillows and blankets were piled high and nearby was a multitude of different electronics and chargers in case Remus got bored.

Janus smiled as he looked at how his boyfriend could now freely wear his smile. Pulling a silly smile of his own he flopped next to Logan and put his chin on top of his phone. Logan looked up and beamed at the yellow side... Before he saw the yellow T-Shirt.

"Bee, you know how much I hate the shirt."

"And honey, you know how much I don't love it."

"Well, who am I to get in the way of your smile?" a smirk was growing on the blue sides face as he tugged Janus closer to him.

"A pretty rude one, considering how you don't cause it most of the time." Janus leaned forward and let out a purr like hiss. Forked tongue peeking through his lips.

This time, it was Logan who turned bright red. Fumbling over his words until he simply gave up and pulled Janus closer to him. Burying his nose in the deceitful sides blond locks. Janus in response, curling up in his lap.

They stayed like that for about half an hour. Then the concern for the two missing sides grew. They were about to leave the comfort of the blanket fort when Janus' phone rung.

Logan passed the ringing phone to his partner and looked in curiosity as he answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Remus, what don't you mean you got arrested again? And Augustus isn't with you too..."

"Remus! This isn't the third time this week you two have gotten arrested."

"Don't you 'JanJan' me"

"I totally care if the body didn't fit in the trash can."

"No, you and Augustus can stay in there for a few days to see if you two can't learn how to properly dispose of a body."

"Well maybe you two shouldn't pay attention when we are teaching you how to do those things."

"No Remus, Logan and I won't come get you tomorrow or the day after."

Pulling the phone away from his ear, the shorter side looked up at the blue side. "He didn't hang up on me..."

The two sides stared into each others eyes before they both started cackling. Tears leaking by the time they could stop.

Logan wrapped his arms around the smaller side, drawing him close before picking up the remote; wiggling the remote back and forth. He smiled and gazed into Janus' eyes

"Want to watch Remus' gore filled movie or find something else, my love?"

Janus tapped his chin in thought, "well, If we do change the film we get to spoil it for Remus, but if don't we might enjoy our date night."

Logan hummed in response, "So, different movie?" chuckling at the excessive nodding of the head. Logan switched it to a different movie.

Hamilton

Logan liked the rapping and clever word play. While Janus liked the songs and the story.

Snuggling in further Janus grabbed his chocolate covered pretzels before leaning up to kiss Logans jaw. "I love you Logan."

Logan ran his fingers through Janus' curls, stroking his fingers over his scales. "I love you too Janus."

~~~~~~~~

Well, thats a thing.

@mother-snake I did a thing! It has a lot of fluff...

@girl-with-many-fandoms you seem to really like my writing... Have some Loceit fluff!

#sanders sides #deceit sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #orange side #janus sanders #loceit #ts deceit #ts janus #ts logan #ts loceit #ts remus #fanfic #my writing #janus fluff #fluff #deceit fluff #loceit fluff #tw food

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galagaorbit · 4 years

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Hinanami!

[im bad @ setting scenes >:[ the first part takes place @ the fountain]

Hajime couldn't focus on his game, how could he? Chiaki's had her head laid in his lap, concentrating on her game trying to beat her previous high score. Hajime's eyes kept shifting towards her, her occasional sniffles made him smile. He wanted this moment to last forever but it was getting late, they'd be kicked off of school grounds soon. "H-hey Nanami, I found this pretty cool cafe in Akihabara, would you, maybe, like to go with me?" he chuckled softly rubbing the nape of his neck. Chiaki hummed quietly, "It doubles as an arcade." Once she heard that she quickly turned her head to look up at him with stars in her eyes, "Really? I'd love to go, when! When! When!" She squirmed in his lap and giggled "Well we can go now but I doubt you'd want to go in your uniform, we should go home and change then meet up... If that's okay with you." Hajime's ears had turned red, maybe if she hadn't moved around so much in his lap he would've been able to keep it together. Chiaki shot up from his lap almost hitting him in the chin and turned to face him "I've never been very good at dating sims but I'll try my hardest to gain relationship points!"

"R-relationship points?! Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Well in every dating sim you get relationship points from dates you go on, I must've already raised enough friendship flags to start gaining relationship points." She gasps. "Unless there's actually a zombie apocalypse and this is just the filler! Now that I can handle."

"I have no idea what we're talking about right now."

"C'mon, we've got no time to lose."

She grabbed Hajime's hand and raced towards the school gate, relationship points? Dating sims? Hajime couldn't help it, he blushed at the thought of going on a date with Chiaki, what would he wear? What would he say? Should he bring flowers? His stomach churned, he was nervous.

They were outside of school property now, Hajime caught his breath "So, should I come pick you up? Or should we meet at the train station?"

"Let's meet at the station, it'll be more efficient that way. Bye now." She waved at him and started walking home, taking her DS out and walking, how does she not run into stuff? It's a mystery to him, he waved and watched her walk until she was too far to see, he pivoted and went home.

[Chiaki]

She threw her bag onto her bed and paused her game. She put her hands on her heart & blushed like mad, what would she wear? All she had was her uniform, merchandise and cosplay, what would normal girls wear? She thought about texting her classmates but then decided to trust what's dearest to her, video games. She booted up Kitty Powers' Matchmaker and Hunie pop on two monitors and started to play, after about 20 minutes she knew exactly what to do.

[Hajime]

Once he got home he flopped onto his bed, his mind was racing, what to do, what to do. He took off his uniform then stopped, he stared at his binder, would she mind? Would she care? Would she understand? He quickly put on a red long sleeve shirt, he felt plain in it so he put on a horde shirt on top, Chiaki probably plays The Horde...Right? He put on some loose jeans and as he was tucking his shirt in he remembered all those Tumblr posts about bisexual people tucking their shirts in, whatever, it doesn't matter. He finished cuffing his jeans and put on some converse, he tried sticking that one piece of hair down but no matter what he did it always shot back up.

Hajime: im walking to the station now

Chiaki: oki doki!! cant w8! >-< im omw 2!!

Soon enough he reached the station, he assumed she'd take a long time to get there but to his surprise she showed up two minutes later. Hajime's heart started racing, her cat thigh highs, her frilly skirt, her Resident Evil shirt, he felt as if his heart would explode and it almost did, Chiaki's hair was tied into two low pigtails, he didn't think she could get any cuter but there she is. Her jacket perfectly framed her breasts, he tried not to stare but his blush gave it all away. "H-hinata-kun? Do I look bad?" His staring must've made her self-conscious, he rushes to her side & hesitantly puts his hands on her shoulders. "I think you look perfect, not perfect like you're a god or something, BUT YOU'RE NOT UGLY, I've never seen you as ugly. Not that others do! I just think that- I'll s-stop talking." She giggled, "I understand, now let's go, my fingers are aching to play." She wiggled her fingers in Hajime's face.

Soon enough their train came, of course it was full, afterall it is a train to Akihabara, it's bound to be full. Hajime held the pole and held Chiaki close, she took out her handheld, muted it and played til they reached their destination.

(a/n: its considered rude to talk/make loud noise in trains in japan)

Hajime sighed a sigh of relief as he stepped off the train, having Chiaki pressed up against him drove him crazy. She turned to him "Lead the way Master Cheif!" She was beaming with excitment, Hajime chuckled and started walking towards the cafe before he audibly gasped, Chiaki intertwined their hands, she looked up at him and smiled, her smile was his kryptonite, he quickly turned away from her and sped up. "H-hey Hinata! Slow down! I can't keep up" Chiaki was tripping over her own feet and the cracks in the side walk, she puffed her cheeks at Hajime, which in his opinion only made her cuter. "I'm sorry Nanami, I just want to get there before they close yknow?"

"I get it, just slow down a bit." She chuckled and tilted her head at him.

They continued on, they didn't need to speak, just having each other around was enough. As they reached their destination Chiaki's eyes went wide, she could see all the games from the window, she bounced "Let's go Hinata-kun!" Chiaki dragged Hajime inside and once she stepped in her jaw dropped, she felt as if she was in a dream, she spun around, getting a good look at everything around her. She jumped onto Hajime "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Hajime hugged her tightly "I knew you'd like it here." "Like it? I love it? Let's go, c'mon" Chiaki dragged Hajime to the nearest game, he chuckled to himself, she's so quiet and reserved but when it comes to games, she's a completely different person. He thought to himself. Chiaki couldn't take her eyes off the screen, she was so focused that she had her tongue sticking out a bit in between her lips, Hajime wanted to poke it, but why? He had no reason to, he stared at her, he could barely focus on his own screen plus she was doing just fine without him, the flashing lights hitting Chiaki's soft skin made her seem unreal, the reflection of her screen in her eyes, the noises she'd make, it all made Hajime's heart flutter. "I'm gonna go get us some boba, what flavour do you want?" She stayed silent for a bit "Strawberry...probably." Her eyes didn't leave the screen, Hajime walked off to go get their boba. Once Hajime left, Chiaki felt lonely, why? He's still there, he just left to get some boba. Even though Hajime didn't do well with the game she still enjoyed his company, even if he was just standing their, but Chiaki didn't feel lonely for long, she soon felt two hands cover her eyes "Guess who?" She giggled and turned around, not caring about the game, Hajime handed her the boba and sipped on his "Wow, the games are great and so are the drinks" Chiaki held her cup with two hands and took a large sip. Hajime laughed to himself and leaned against the machine behind him, "I found DDR on the other side of the cafe, wanna have a competition?"

She gulped. "I'll wipe the floor with you!"

"Bring it on!"

They rushed to the DDR machine and discarded their empty cups, obviously Chiaki picked the hardest difficulty, Paranoia Survivor Max, hijinks ensued; Chiaki was getting a perfect score as always so Hajime decided to tickle her, it worked, she lost her combo & Hajime continued. Chiaki puffed her cheeks "Hajime, someone's stealing your phone!" Hajime quickly turned around and looked for his phone, Chiaki laughed as she continued to play, they decided to focus on their game however Hajime isn't the most graceful when it comes to DDR. Hajime ended up tripping on his shoelace and landed on top of Chiaki with a thud, he's seen enough anime to know that he's probably touching her breast or his face is in between her legs but no, this wasn't an anime. Even with Hajime on top of her Chiaki couldn't help but laugh, Hajime slowly lifted himself off the laughing girl. His hands were near her head, he was still on top of her but he didn't want to move, he's never heard her laugh like that, he bursted into laughter, he didn't care if people were staring, he was having fun, she was having fun. Chiaki started to snort, she tried stopping but the more she did the more she snorted, Hajime thought it was the most beautiful noise, cuter than her giggles, cuter than her hmph's, cuter than her sniffles, her unrestrained laughter was music to his ears. Once they both calmed down they got up off the floor and smiled at each other, they couldn't help it, it was so natural to them.

"I'm sleepy... Let's go home." She giggled softly as she grabbed Hajime's hand and laid her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her and hugged her close, in that moment, he felt perfect, no need for a talent, no need to be an ultimate, no insecurities, no doubts, he felt perfect... With her.

hhhh i hope u liek it! im not a writer but i tried my best!

#danganronpa #shipping #hinanami #chiaki nanami #hajime hinata #sdr2 #chiaki x hajime #hajime x chiaki #i still dont know how to tag things right #this is shit #oops?#fanfiction #anime #love #hajime is trans #trans hajime

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clumsydarknut · 4 years

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Scripted Wishes

Chapter 4: Anima Extalia

Beginning | Previous | Next | Most Recent (That’s this! Hi!)

Lucy sighed, stretching and flopping back onto her bed. The dress rehearsal – if you could call it that – had only gone for maybe an hour and consisted mostly of the crew running a few of the more complicated dance scenes and rubbing out a couple bumps in the cues, none of which Loke seemed interested in helping her learn. The Loke she’d met that morning was nowhere to be found, instead replaced with a nervous, twitchy, hyper-focused stagehand who was determined to pretend she didn’t exist. He hadn’t said a word to her, even when she asked him things.

“Which one’s the left spot again?”

Point.

“So you play guitar?”

Nod.

“When do you think Natsu will be back?”

Shrug.

That hour had seemed like an eternity, dragged out second by second with anxious glances and awkward coughs. It wasn’t a total loss, though. She’d been able to see first-hand why Jellal got the praise that he did. Most of the cast of Anima Extalia were adult actors who seemed very experienced, and Jellal matched their skill note for note and step for step. They had done a battle scene featuring some crazy aerobatics – the choreographer had called it capoeira – where Jellal had pulled some off some incredible flips and twists. She was kind of bummed the show was sold out, and based on the way Loke behaved it wasn’t likely she could watch from the sound booth.

Guess I’ll just have to try out for something, she thought. Probably the next musical.

With nothing else to do, Lucy wiggled her phone out of her tight pockets and unlocked it with a few quick taps. She was used to most of the notifications – a few spam and school emails, a new video from a YouTuber she liked, and suggested pins for her astronomy board weren’t out of the ordinary. To her surprise and delight, however, all of those lined up beneath six new texts from Levy.

I saw Natsu drag you to the sound booth. Nothing kinky going on is there? ;)

omg i can’t believe i said that plz don’t show him

Lucy?

Oh right probs busy learning sound booth stuff k nevermind

We hope you’re here to stay, Lucy! Welcome to Fairy Tail!

The last text brought tears to her eyes. Beneath the welcome message was an awkwardly thrown together group selfie, with Levy holding the camera and doing her best mock-Instagram face. Jet and Droy crouched next to her, grinning, while Cana leaned on them, pointing a finger gun and winking. Erza stood over Levy with her soft smile, and Gray stood just next to her, arms crossed over his chest and giving the camera a smirk. In the corner, she could make out the boxy shape of the sound booth, a blur of pink and a blur of blonde just visible in the fuzzy background.

Lucy grinned and rubbed a tear from her cheek. She let her thumbs dance over her keyboard while she tried to think of a good response. They really like me, she sighed. I’m in Fairy Tail, and they like me!

Her phone gave a buzz and she squeaked as her hands jerked in surprise, making her lose her grip on the slender piece of technology; she juggled it awkwardly for a second before it landed flat on the pillow next to her. She scrambled onto her stomach and flipped the vibrating phone over, grinning at seeing Natsu’s profile picture humming on the screen. She slid her thumb across the icon and put it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Heya Luce!”

Lucy winced at the sudden noise, moving it a little further from her head. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Are you coming to the show?” he sang. She could almost see his toothy grin in the tone of his voice.

“It’s sold out, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah,” Natsu replied, “but you’re in the company now! You can watch from the sound booth with me!”

Lucy bit her lip. “Is that okay? I wouldn’t want to get in your way – it’s already pretty cramped with just two people up there.”

“You won’t get in the way,” Natsu chuckled, “Right Loke?”

She felt her breath hitch. Though she heard a faint “uh, sure” wobble on the other end, she knew the red-head was most certainly not okay with that. She wasn’t particularly fond of the boy, and certainly not of his playboy kind, but… he seemed genuinely afraid of her, and for no reason that Lucy could deduce. She didn’t want to make things worse if she could avoid it.

“No, it’s okay, Natsu,” she replied, “I should probably rest up – I’m a little woozy from all the action yesterday and today.”

“Aww, c’mon Luce! Is it cuz you’re afraid Loke will make a move on ya?” She heard Loke splutter something frantically. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him use a single pick-up line!”

“No, no,” Lucy laughed uncomfortably, “I just really need some rest.”

“Oh, okay.” Natsu seemed disappointed, but only for a moment before perking right back up. “I found a great role for you, by the way! I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, yeah?”

She smiled. “Sounds good!”

“Yosh! Ja na!”

“Bye!”

The screen turned black and she sighed. I’ll just have to miss this show, I guess. She rolled onto her back and picked up her phone again, humming as she decided what to do. She opened Instagram on a whim and flicked down to a random spot in her feed. It was another video posted by the school, bearing a very familiar face and a very familiar tag. She grinned.

I’d prefer to hang with him in person, but I guess this Salamander will do.

---

Gajeel really wasn’t one for theatre.

It was cheesy, weird, and straight up uninteresting. People prancing around on stage in frilly costumes, pretending to be things they’re not? And set to music? No, not really his thing at all.

Well, maybe that was a lie. He was in the Cosplay Club, after all.

But there was no way he’d ever admit the two things had anything in common. Cosplay was an art – a dedication to replicating a character so perfectly that it seemed they had stepped out of the world of fiction and straight into reality. Cosplaying a character was the ultimate testament to how incredible that character and their world truly was, and thus, being a cosplayer came with the heavy responsibility of making sure that character was done justice. It wasn’t this… thing, that played out on the stage in front of him.

He couldn’t really complain, though. Not since he was here on a date.

A second date, at that.

He leaned back further into his seat, scrunching down into his gray hoodie and tilting his head to look at the girl next to him. Sue was cute. She was at least a head shorter than him, with darker, tanned skin and forest green hair cut off at her shoulders. Now she wore a beige blouse and a short black skirt, but Gajeel much preferred her usual attire – a blue shirt with ripped sleeves and green cargo pants, along with an oddly adorable purple jester’s hat. He’d asked her out casually last week and they’d gone four-wheeling; when she asked him in return, this had been her suggestion.

He almost said no, but he actually kind of liked her.

He sighed, settling in for the show. The overture had finished, as well as the opening number – a solo by a guy in some weird ninja gear. Gajeel was pretty sure he’d seen him around school hanging with the other Fairy Tail dorks, which was a little bit of a surprise. Then again, all Fairy Tail had to work with was Fairy Tail, so maybe giving the title role to a teenager was the best they could do. Either way, the number was somewhat foreboding and left Gajeel with prickly discomfort itching at the back of his neck.

Sue gasped as the scene changed in a flash of smoke and a sheen of light. The eerie set the ninja dude had occupied was replaced with a multi-tiered stage painted as floating isles on a backdrop of a beautiful blue sky. Gajeel gave a smirk as Sue turned back, smiling, to see if he was watching. As soon as she looked back to the show he scrunched further into his seat. Maybe I can pick up some cosplay design ideas at the very least.

The show was pretty strange, in Gajeel’s opinion. Half the characters seemed to be humans from some post-apocalyptic magic-science hybrid country, and the other half were… cats? Cat people? Cat angels? Whatever they were, at least they weren’t furries. He had to admit the half-cat costumes were very well done, blending prosthetics perfectly into skin and avoiding the whole mostly-naked-with-body-paint deal that so often killed good animal cosplays. The rigging they used for some of the aerobatics attached to very well disguised harnesses with pretty impressive angel wings that seemed to be high quality animatronics. They’d somehow managed to get realistic tails as well, which moved and swished about like real ones instead of dangling limply or sticking out at awkward angles. Pretty cool, that. He made a mental note to scare the technique out of one of the stagehands later.

The main protagonist appeared to be a bluish cat called Shiawase, who, of course, was in love with a girl. Typical of musicals. The girl was a beautiful white cat called Charlotte who seemed to be a princess of sorts. From what Gajeel could tell, the two were just trying to elope while the humans warred with the cat people and it really wasn’t going well.

“Gajeel,” Sue whispered suddenly, pointing to Shiawase, “Isn’t that… Gray?”

Gajeel did the air equivalent of a spit take as he suddenly recognized the blue cat, sitting forward in his seat to study him with a squint.

“Sure is,” he chuckled. “Damn that’s a lot of makeup. Too bad he still looks like a twat.”

Sue gave him a pout. “C’mon, Gajeel, be nice. He helped you with the kanji on one of your katanas, didn’t he?”

“Tch.” Gray had been helpful that one time, being from Japan and all, but he was still a Fairy Tail dork.

As the show went on the story got more complicated. If Gajeel had cared, he would have found himself torn on which side of the war to get behind. The cat angels were some sort of tyrannical deities or the like, in which case he favored the humans, but the humans were merciless executioners who slaughtered their own kind as readily as they slaughtered the cats. As badass as that was, he couldn’t really get behind that either. Not that he was emotionally invested or anything. If he had to pick, he’d probably go with the humans – mainly because of the large, bulky black cat who had betrayed his kind to fight alongside them. Gajeel really didn’t care much, but that character was pretty neat.

The ninja guy from the beginning – Mist Can or something – was turning out to be kind of cool too. He was revealed to be the exiled prince of the human nation, swooping in to save the imprisoned cat protagonists right before intermission, and Sue bubbled over him through the entire break. Gajeel would have preferred to go get a snack, but… she was pretty adorable when she got all excited like that, so he didn’t mind too much. He’d lost track of most of the plot at this point, but he was actually sort of enjoying himself. Kind of. Maybe.

The entr’acte ended with a very mournful piccolo solo and the lights rose on the remains of a blackened forest. Charred branches scraped and clawed at the orange sky. Smoke effects drifted up in billows and the crackling of flames hummed in the silence. This was a totally different feel from when the show had begun. After another moment, the three main protagonists rushed onto the stage.

“W-wait,” Charlotte stammered, stumbling “I… I need to rest.”

“We cannot stop now,” the ninja man replied. “We have to get as far from the city as we can. It’s only a matter of time before my people use the Dragon Cannon.”

“There must be something we can do!” Shiawase cried. “We can’t just run away!”

“There is not,” he growled. He turned to continue the escape, cloak swishing behind him.

Shiawase rose to his full height, gesturing back the way they came. “You would just abandon your people? Your friends? You would turn your back as hundreds of innocents are murdered?!”

The man whirled around and ripped his veil from his face, storming up to the blue cat and leering over him. “I do not do so lightly, Exceed! May I remind you that it is your people who began this war?! That your kind have used us as slaves for centuries?!”

“That doesn’t change your cowardice! You’re running away, Mystogan! Running from your throne and your duty! It was not my people who made you this way!”

The two continued to argue as a harp plinked a note and the lighting around Charlotte changed tones. A tear ran down her face as she sang a pitiful, “Please, stop…”

“Stop?” Mystogan laughed as a bass tremolo hummed beneath him. In a darker tone he sang back.

“It is not I who slaughtered thousands.

Who killed children!

Who drove their slaves to madness!”

Shiawase picked up the melody, gesturing to the burning landscape.

“Do you think this is what we wanted?

Do you think this is the life we crave?

No, your Highness.

You’re wrong.

We may be at fault, but we tried to stop it!

It is you

who ran away.”

Mystogan stormed forward. “You speak of things you know nothing about,” he spat back.

Shiawase hissed. “And you run from people who need you!”

Mystogan’s voice took on a tone of fury.

“There’s naught I can do,

she’s doomed them all.

My people are dying, Exceed.

Our kingdoms have slaughtered each other!”

“We can end that,” Shiawase sang more insistently,

“We can end it all!

We can’t just save ourselves

we have to do something!”

Mystogan took a deep breath. “All you will do is die.”

Shiawase leapt at Mystogan, letting loose a vicious snarl. Gajeel raised an eyebrow in surprise. Damn, Gray, that was startlingly realistic.

“Please, stop…” Charlotte sang again.

Mystogan pushed Shiawase away and removed his staff from his back.

“We can’t fight like this…” she sobbed.

Shiawase took a fighting stance and the invisible rigging lifted him off the stage.

“I said STOP!”

The outburst from the white cat reverberated in the theatre. Her labored breath was the only sound heard in the room as she got to her feet. She stepped up to the unmasked ninja and looked him straight in the eye.

“I am sorry.” She intoned softly.

“I could have stopped this.

I could have tried harder.

Mother wouldn’t listen.

Couldn’t listen.

The blood of your people is on my hands.

We have both made grave mistakes

and cost innocents their lives.

Millions may yet die and it will be our faults.”

She paused and sighed before clenching her fists. When she began again, her voice was made of fire.

“But how dare you!

How dare you just give up?!”

Mystogan stumbled back a step, mouth dropping open slightly. Charlotte didn’t back down.

“This is your country, isn’t it?

Can’t you do anything without your throne?

Though it was all a lie

didn’t you try to live your best life,

protect your people where you could?!

Why are you giving up?!”

The air around Charlotte began to shimmer and slowly her feet rose off the ground. Mystogan stared up at her in awe.

“So what if you’re weak!

You’re not alone!

When weak things work together

Strength is born!”

As if by magic, Charlotte’s wings grew and turned iridescent. Gajeel’s jaw actually dropped – he could not fathom how they managed that.

“My country will not be destroyed!

It is my homeland!

It’s not going anywhere!

I will die before I abandon it!

And I will die before I let you abandon yours!”

In a burst of radiance and glitter her wings spread wide. The backdrop turned from burning orange to a smattering of stars as luminescent mist rose from the stage. She looked into the distance beyond the audience as she belted the last lines of the powerful refrain.

“I won’t give up!

I will stop this all,

or I will die trying!”

The rigging pulled her out over the audience at a startling speed, her wings and gown sweeping through the air in a dazzling blaze of light. The walls of the theatre suddenly became the night sky as she soared past, sweeping higher and higher until finally she was out of sight. In the near silence a single violin held a harmonic quietly as attention turned back to the stage.

Shiawase met Mystogan’s gaze with a stern resolve. Hesitance flitted in the man’s eyes, and the cat extended his hand.

“Are you coming?”

The violin dwindled to nothing. Gajeel suddenly realized he was holding his breath.

With purpose, Mystogan took the hand.

Shiawase smirked. Suddenly, the bass of EDM rumbled from beneath the seats, setting up a slow build. A chill shot down Gajeel’s spine and he exchanged amazed looks with Sue.

“Hold on!” Shiawase hooked his arm under Mystogan’s and gripped his wrist with both hands. The call of distant bagpipes echoed in the room on top of the building music. The two men took a few steps back. Shiawase flicked his wings out wide. The music grew as the bagpipes seemed to get closer. Mystogan nodded. Shiawase smiled. Then, they sprinted and leapt off the stage.

The scoring roared into a variation on the main theme at twice the speed it had been sung; Shiawase took off over the crowd, carrying Mystogan higher in a maelstrom of light and fire. Gajeel’s mouth hung open in awe as the audience let out whoops and whistles. Mystogan’s not wearing a harness. Is Gray… legitimately carrying him?

The two made a few more circles of the audience, the walls of the theatre – which Gajeel had figured out were screens – providing a continuous backdrop that gave the illusion of distance. As the music came to a close, they landed back on the stage, now a broken battleground of a city.

This was where Gajeel suddenly felt very, very strange.

“Cougairis!” Mystogan shouted. The scene was a blur of motion, cats and humans in combat in every conceivable space. Actors had spawned miraculously in the aisles near the stage and on one of the side balconies. That combined with the flash of explosions and the clang of swords made the battlefield come to life. He was surprised he could still easily focus on the main characters despite the chaos.

“Cougairis! I need your help!” Mystogan called again.

The man in question was forced onto the stage, locked in combat. This was the cat that he’d liked. The panther held back three other cats with his giant blade, fighting for control as they pushed their swords against his own. With a roar that Gajeel was sure just had to be recorded, the giant cat shoved his adversaries backwards, two falling off the front of the stage and out of sight. The last stumbled back, gripping his side painfully before crumpling to the floor in a heap.

The black cat turned to face Mystogan, and Gajeel froze.

Over Cougairis’ left eye was a slash; a deep, thick, raw slash that hadn’t been there in the first act.

Gajeel’s head throbbed and his heart pounded, chest tightening until all he could manage was a raspy pant. The edges of his vision grayed. Wha…? What’s happening?

“Gajeel?” He heard Sue whisper his name, but it sounded as though it were a thousand miles away. “Gajeel, are you okay?”

He lifted his hands and felt them tremble wildly as his eyesight shrunk to a pinpoint. He could hardly see, hardly feel. His long, wild hair fell over his shoulders as he tried to shake away whatever was doing this to him. He could no longer register Sue tugging at his arm in worry.

What…? Is this one of those… panic attack things? He couldn’t think of any reason he would have a panic attack – he’d never had one before and didn’t have any traumatic experiences that he could think of. It can’t be a panic attack. Why would a play give me a panic attack?

He looked back to the stage. His tunnel vision centered back on Cougairis. He tried to look away, to any other character, any other piece of set, but the cat’s scarred face seemed to fill his view. That scar. That black fur. That white muzzle. Something seemed to be stabbing his brain at every angle and yet he could not tear away from that face. Suddenly the cat looked out into the audience – looked right at him. As if being shot through the heart his breath stopped, and somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, he heard his own voice.

I’m taking you back to my guild one way or the other! And then, I’m going to make you my cat!

---

Gray watched from the shadows as Elfman strode to the front of the stage, their one and only child actor, Violet, perched on his shoulder. The audience roared and whistled as the large black cat set her down and she gave a small curtsey. Incredible, for a third grader, Gray smirked. I hope she sticks around.

The curtain call had always been one of Gray’s favorite parts of a show. Especially the final curtain call, on closing night. Molding yourself into another character was a huge, exhausting effort, and sometimes it was difficult to let go and become oneself again after rehearsal. The final curtain call, Gray felt, was an effective way to bridge the gap between being the character and living his own life. The audience, just for that final scene, now acknowledged you as both the role and the actor. In a way, it was a moment where he could be both people at once.

The music changed from Cougairis’ theme to that of Shiawase and Charlotte. Gray straightened his moss green, one-sided shawl over his bare shoulders and strode out from behind the curtains. From the other side, Charlotte – or perhaps now he should say Laurissa – strode out to meet him, a spring in her step as she took his hand. Renewed whistles and shouts rose from the house as they approached the edge of the apron, and just as they had done for every curtain call, Gray pulled her in for a kiss before they took their last bow. It had been her idea, of course, and the audience ate it up like free salsa at a Mexican restaurant. He and Laurissa weren’t romantically involved, but the reaction from the crowd was something they could both get behind.

The two parted as the music changed again, gesturing extravagantly as the star of the show took the spotlight. Mystogan rushed forward, twirling his staff several times before planting it solidly and whipping off his veil. The crowd screamed, applauding wildly and jumping to their feet. Gray clapped just as fiercely – not just for the performance, but for the grin spreading slowly over the blue-haired boy’s face. He knew that grin. The sage-prince Mystogan was gone; Jellal was back.

The company linked their hands and took their final bows as the music finished, and for the last time on that show, the curtain dropped.

“Excellent work, everyone!” Director Dreyar joined the scene from backstage, a toothy grin peeking from behind his mustache. “Very good indeed! A show well worth the effort! Head on home and we’ll strike the set tomorrow evening!”

“And don’t forget, the cast party is on Friday!” Mirajane added. The group bubbled into an energetic hum, matching the chatter of the audience just beyond the curtain. Hugs and claps on the back passed around along with laughter and the repetition of various inside jokes. Gray was happy – sometimes the afterglow of a performance was just as good as the show itself.

“Gray!” He twisted around to find the source of the call. Jellal waved him over. He grinned.

“Good to have you back, Jellal,” Gray replied. They did an elaborate fist-bump.

“It’s good to be back,” Jellal sighed. “At least, for a bit. King Oberon’s not a very complex character, so I won’t have to get into him for another couple weeks.”

“I’m sure Erza’s happy about that,” Gray nudged playfully.

Jellal blushed. “You could say that.”

“MYSTOGAN!” Gray turned just in time to dodge Elfman barreling through the crowd. The burly teen clapped Jellal hard on the back, and Jellal looked like he might’ve had the wind knocked out of him. “Your performance! OTOKO DA!”

“Thanks,” the blue-haired boy coughed. “You can call me Jellal now, though.”

“Oh, right,” Elfman chuckled. He turned to Gray. “Gray! You coming to Angie’s with us?”

Gray was tempted to say yes. He really wanted to. But he wasn’t sure if he’d make it that long.

“No, I gotta head home,” he replied. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Homework, y’know?”

Elfman gave him a funny look. “Homework? How? Today was literally the first day of school.”

Gray gulped. “Japanese stuff, y’know? Have to prep for tutoring.”

“Mmmm zannen da ne…” Elfman hummed.

“Yeah, that’s too bad,” Jellal continued. He didn’t look as convinced as Elfman was.

“Yeah…” Gray trailed off. He glanced between the two nervously, but tried to continue as if nothing were strange. “I should probably head out, actually. It’s pretty late and I really gotta get started.”

Jellal nodded, though his eyes still flickered with doubt. Gray gave a slight wave and sauntered away as confidently as he could, despite the knot in his stomach.

He made a short stop by the dressing room to pick up his things and drop off his shawl, his wings, and a few of the smaller accessories. The majority of his costume had been body paint and various prosthetics, so there wasn’t much he had to return to the company – there wasn’t much he had to wear on his way home, either. Body paint wasn’t a fun stain to get out of clothes, and he certainly didn’t want to scrub it out of his favorite jacket.

He made his way out the back to the rear parking lot, the night air chilling his bare chest. The cold didn’t bother him much – he was a hockey player, after all – but he was glad he’d come extra early to school to snag the closest spot. He clicked his key fob and the lights of his Chrysler 300 flashed. No one else had left yet; traffic was clear.

The ride home passed in a haze, as it always did. A turn here, a traffic circle there, the wonky tree on the end of the block followed by the gas station. He pulled into the dark driveway of his small, blocky house. No lights were on; his roommates were likely asleep. Good.

He locked his car by hand so it wouldn’t make a sound, then slipped inside as quickly and quietly as he could manage. A fan was on in the entryway, blowing softly against his bare chest. He cursed silently. His roommates wouldn’t have known better – he’d never said anything, never even gave a hint. At least, he was pretty sure he hadn’t. He wasn’t really sure if that was actually a good thing.

Just get to the shower, he thought. Get the paint off. You’ll be fine. Only a few more minutes.

He left the lights off as he made his way through the house, familiar enough with his home not to bump into anything in the dark. He figured most normal people could do that, could walk through their own house in the dark. This wasn’t strange. He was normal, too. Completely normal. Other people had sudden adrenaline jumps, right? It was nothing. Normal people occasionally had their heart start beating out of control, too, right? He was fine. He would be fine. This was normal.

Gray wasn’t sure he was being so stealthy anymore – blood pounded in his ears and he could hardly breathe, let alone tell if anyone else was awake. It was fine though. He shut the bathroom door behind him and ripped off the last of his prosthetics. It stung; the glue was particularly strong on his face. It didn’t matter though. If he was bleeding, he’d find out later. He couldn’t tell if he had cuts without the lights on.

His hands fumbled with the shower handles, shaking more than he would’ve liked. The water spattered for a moment before coming in a steady stream. Good. Warm. Paint. Take the paint off. He kicked off the last of his clothes. Steam. Hot water, sliding over his skin. Peeling away the paint. Not fast enough.

The blue skin of his character fell away, and left behind was only Gray.

Gray, and her.

#fairy tail #scripted wishes #fanfiction #japanese #anime #nalu #lolu #jerza #gajevy #gruvia #theatre

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