#this hecker is hard to write for

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Nah, your mention of the teacup scene was honestly perfect, because, just like P-Z it just feels so weird, and just kinda pointless/disjointed. Heckers, even the people I know who LIKE the story of totk, did not seem to like the teacup scene. Also, if I can throw in: It felt like a scene that, in its idea, should have been in the DLC. Maybe actually focus on just Sonia and Rauru as people, instead of the weird "talking around the bush, your powers don't work, Link, and the other piddly talk." Like in the botw DLC, the focus was more on a "slice of life" peek into the Champion's life. It's such a waste of main-story content, and literally established nothing new. Heck, I actually hate that scene because it's just such a lazy way for Rauru to find out who Link is, and then later tell Ganondorf about Link. Additionally, while we're talking about disappoint scenes/bad writing. Zelda's "I didn't remember anything from being a Dragon." It was such a bad cop-out, and it annoyed me to no end. They didn't need to mention it, leave it up to the player to interpret if Zelda remembers, and what she might have remembered or forgotten. The way it gets dropped is also like a hard rock. Riju: "So how was it?" Zelda: "Lol idk, don't remember." It's weird how you can put Botw-Zelda's sacrifice against Totk-Zelda's sacrifice, and Botw she just sacrificed a lot more, even though Totk really plays up the severity of the "Sacrificing yourself to become a dragon"-thing, only for it to just be the most overhyped McGuffin to get Zelda back into her time.

Hey, thanks for the follow-up!

Yeah, agreed. I have talked extensively about the dragon problem somewhere??? I'll try to find it. Here! Which is basically that even if I agree the dragon thing is super cool and powerful and visually jawdropping and emotionally something, it's... kind of not a lot of what it claims to be.

But in addition to that, you made me think of something else by having this comment; there are multiple times during voiced cutscenes specifically where lines are used (I say used because every voiced line costs *so much money* so producers will always beg you to keep them to a minimum) to reassure the player that nothing truly bad is happening.

The thing with Zelda telling you she doesn't remember her time as a dragon is a great example, but there are many more. The first time I actively noticed it was during the Sealing cutscene where Rauru dives in to put his hand in Ganondorf's uhh tender heart (and he steals his magic? I wish something was actually done with that it could have been great if Rauru was corrupting himself voluntarily or something), and there is a whole dialogue where Ganondorf goes "hahaha thousands of years will pass in the blink of an eye", which could be a way to just brush off Rauru's actions as negligeable, but could also be a way to minimize the toll of time taken on both of them the same way it did for Zelda, especially since they semi-turn to stone immediately after. There are a lot of dialogue bits that feel like they are here for damage control and reassure us that the nice things are nice and the bad things are bad (a lot of the gerudo Sage dialogue also reads like that to me as well).

But yes, in general, it is a game that is incredibly averse to consequences, which does a lot of harm to its narrative tension in my opinion.

[duckirubb3rart]

So I noticed your tumblr coming up recommended now that I’m down my hitsukarin rabbit hole and then I thought your name seemed familiar and I traced it back to AO3… and holy hecker. You are AMAZING! Such an incredible artist AND writer 🥰 I don’t want to be that creeper that goes through and likes all your posts at once haha. But they are all amazing, you should be so proud.

Have you always been artistic? And always digital? I can draw okay on paper and really want to get into digital but find it so hard 😩

Anywho, that’s all from me! Sorry to bombard you, hope you’re having a good week ❤️

WOAH I did not expect to find you here and I absolutely don't mind you going through all my posts haha. I'm also the type of person who does precisely that to others and I have no shame in it. To answer your questions, I've enjoyed drawing since I was a kid and got my first drawing tablet when I was 12 (I'm currently 22 so it's been a minute), so that's when I started doing digital art. I'm not very good at drawing on paper because I haven't done it properly in such a long time. I struggle a lot with it because I don't have all of the handy undo/redo/copy/paste/transform/etc. tools that I've gotten used to with digital art. I envy people who can draw well on paper. 😭

Like most artists, I am not fond of my own work lol. Sometimes I draw something I don't mind, but the amount of cringe I feel when I look back at old stuff is painful. I want to draw more HitsuKarin stuff that is like... better lmao. I've been actively trying to improve my art more recently so hopefully I can crank something out. I lack inspiration severely though. Nevertheless, I thank you for your kind words! ❤️ I am also very fond of your writing and I'm always excited when I see story updates from you, so I will now return the favour and stalk your account to see what goodies I can find there, if you don't mind. 🙏

[ajoytobeheld]

Gareth Campesinos!' Records of 2011

December 21st, 2011

An over-cooked documentation of the albums/EPs/records I have got most enjoyment from over the past 12 months. I think this year’s been a pretty exciting one for the evolution of my musical tastes and interests, as I’ve found hardly a single thing ‘guitar record’-wise that has stirred any emotion in me (a couple of notable exceptions to be found within here, however) and so have opened up to new ideas and sounds. I attempted to write a bit about each record, I tried REALLY hard, but one of the things I loathe most is people who have no ability to write about music having music blogs, and though I’m never usually shy to embrace hypocrisy, I stood firm here.

I’d be totally interested in hearing any recommendations you might have for me, from this year or any other, based on this list. Cheers guys,

G

Araab Muzik – Electronic Dream

ASAP Rocky – Live Love ASAP

Clams Casino – Instrumental Mixtape

Danny Brown – XXX

Destroyer – Kaputt

Drake – Take Care

Laurel Halo – Hour Logic

Tim Hecker – Ravedeath, 1972

Julia Holter – Tragedy

How To Dress Well – Just Once EP

Machinedrum – Room(s)

Prurient – Bermuda Drain

Shabazz Palaces – Black Up

Slow Club – Paradise

The Weeknd – House Of Balloons

[spiralfucker]

1 + 4

song of the year Ummm my fave song released this year has gotta be something off the chat pile's cool world but it's too hard to narrow it down to just one track. I also rlly liked geordie greep's holy holy also liked knocked loose's suffocate. 365 from brat was also good. 4. Favourite musical artist/group you started listening to this year? Can't pick just one so I'm gonna say Buzz Kull, Ryoji Ikeda, Recoil, Tim Hecker and The dukes of Stratosphere

Song of the year?

Album of the year?

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Movie of the year?

TV show of the year?

Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

Favorite actor of the year?

Game of the year?

Best month for you this year?

Something that made you cry this year?

Something you want to do again next year?

Talk about a new friend you made this year

How was your birthday this year?

Favorite book you read this year?

What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

Post a picture from the beginning of the year

Post a picture from the end of the year

A memorable meal this year?

What’re you excited about for next year?

What’s something you learned this year?

What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

Favorite place you visited this year?

If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

[jasonhackwith]

INTO THE FLAME I have gone, and I am not the same

The year was 1997.

The time was pretty bright for me. I was playing with a remarkable little band with fantastic guitarist (and guitar collector) Jasen Hecker and an amazing songwriter by the name of Ryan Mainard. We had big dreams. I was greatly inspired by Ryan’s excellent songwriting, and I wanted to write an epic song about an epic idea.

At that point, I had just begun working on a book that would eventually become Seven Dangerous Prayers. I was haunted by a single idea day and night: would I dare to ask God to do whatever He needed to do to refine me into the person He wanted me to be? Would I be so bold as to dare to ask Him to place my heart into the flame of his forge so that the dross could be burned away? Did I have the audacity to ask Him to be purify me and sanctify me, no matter what it took, no matter what I had to go through? Did I dare not to dare?

The idea enthralled me. I just couldn’t get it out of my head. In 1998 I wrote a song about it with that fledgling band called INTO THE FLAME (listen/download above), launched a website called intotheflame.com, and began my first tentative steps in working these prayers out in my life and the lives of those around me.

As I dove deeper into the Word, I found six other distinct concepts behind major periods of refreshing and renewal in my life. These seven concepts led me to seven Greek and seven Hebrew words that embodied each concept, and as I studied out each concept behind the prayers, I was amazed how these phenomenonally dangerous ideas were found everywhere, in every book of the Bible.

I became convinced that God longs for a profound intimacy with us. I also learned the hard way not to take these prayers lightly. These are not the “now I lay me down to sleep” kind of prayers. Nor are these prayers—or any other kind of prayer for that matter—some kind of magic spell or ritual that can get God to do what you want. No prayer ever has any power apart from God. That being said, let me be clear. These prayers, and the life-changing concepts behind them, are indeed dangerous for one reason: God is dangerous. God is so loving, He is so very good; yet God is dangerous because any real encounter with Him will leave us forever changed.

"Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people producing its fruits. And the one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and when it falls on anyone, it will crush him."  -- Matthew 21:43–44

We have two choices, Christ is saying here: fall on Him and be broken, or remain apart from God and ultimately be crushed at the end of the age by the inexorable fact of that Presence. Jesus is speaking here of “the stone that the builders rejected” (Psalm 118:22, Matthew 21:42), the very kingdom of God, the stone that breaks or crushes. Here is a mystery to ponder: if God is truly unchanging (Malachi 3:6), simply being in His presence will change us, just as a diamond scratches all softer stones. As one of my favorite authors, Richard J. Foster, has said, ”To pray is to change.”

When I first started on this journey, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. When I first dared to pray the Prayer of Tears, for example, I was utterly naive about just how terribly different God’s compassion was from my own. I was a complete mess for weeks. I couldn’t even look at anyone without tears welling up in my eyes. My heart was so broken for everyone I met. But that bottomless well of tears was glorious because layers of callous indifference were shattered right along with my heart.

In time God brought balance to my emotions, but the overwhelming surge of compassion and empathy He poured into me had done its work. Before I dared to pray dangerously, I knew vaguely that He loves us, that He has compassion on us. When I dared to pray the Prayer of Tears, however, for the first time I really knew what it was like to have God’s heart for others. I didn’t just know how much He loved me and the people around me, I actually had some of that profound love for others. He immediately manifested himself in this: forgiveness which had before seemed utterly impossible that suddenly was easy and freeing. My love is terribly imperfect and I am daily learning more about His perfect love, but I would never go back to the way I was before.

When I moved to the Lewis-Clark Valley after college, I also began compiling some of my poetry in an anthological work that would eventually become the river Beautiful. I worked on both books off and on for years, but for far too many tedious reasons to list here, getting either one finished seemed utterly impossible. Despite the thousands of hours I had put into Seven Dangerous Prayers, I began feeling more and more strongly that I needed to finish this work of poetry and song lyrics first. At first I rejected the idea, thinking that perhaps I was just being egotistical. Surely the countless hours and all the Bible studies I had done were more important?

Then a counselor friend of mine, Rod Myklebust, made a comment to me one day that really shook me up. I prayed with Rod, and then he told me that he felt that maybe Seven Dangerous Prayers was just for me right now, not for anyone else yet, that I should pray through it to see where God was leading.

To be honest I was pretty devastated, especially with that coming from Rod, whose opinion means the world to me. I know Rod never meant it, but I got stuck on the thought that I had wasted most of my life, working on a book that was just for my own edification, not for anyone else’s. The black depression which followed was utterly crushing.

Lindsay and I had moved out of the Lewis-Clark Valley chasing teaching jobs in the North Cascades and the Oregon coast. I ended up getting injured pretty severely with a torn left bicep and torn rotator cuff. We eventually ran out of money and moved back to the Lewis-Clark Valley to regroup, but my depression and anxiety were worse than ever. I finally reached out and got medical help and counseling and have been slowly climbing out my present darkness, day by day.

I never thought myself a man of prayer, yet somehow I find that I have become one. It didn’t happen overnight, and it certainly hasn’t been easy. Between health problems, depression and anxiety these past seven years especially have been the hardest of my entire life. It is only through the faithful prayers of so many that I am alive today.

Brennan Manning, the beloved vagabond evangelist who transformed my life, said it best: “The Word we study must be the Word we pray” (The Ragamuffin Gospel, pg. 45). True, effective prayer is always founded and grounded in God’s Word. I dug into the Word again and kept on praying. I slowly began to see a little more clearly, and then one day God brought me completely up short with several sudden realizations:

Both books I had been working on for decades had seven chapters;

Each chapter in the river Beautiful corresponded perfectly with one of the seven dangerous prayers; and

It turns out that all the time I had been writing two books, I was really only writing one. I will release the Seven Dangerous Prayers Bible study in a year or so when it feels right, but for now, I finally know that this is what I’m supposed to do.

As soon as I came to that realization, I finally found peace with finishing the work. It makes sense for me not to just tell you how dangerous prayers have transformed my life, but to show you exactly how I have changed through my poetry and prose and illustrations. Since I finally figured out what I was supposed to do, this work has progressed smoothly and peacefully. It’s so very nice to have such a wise Editor.

I’m releasing a new signature design today entitled “NIL NISI CRUCE: “Firestorm” in the INTO THE FLAME store. All proceeds go towards supporting publication costs for the book.

[theparasitefam]

He's just a lil fuzzy...

"Well. Do ya have a therapist?" He asked. "Dat aside... I don't wanna railroad ya inta tellin me. But I also don't want ya ta hafta go through things alone. I think we can both say how dangerous it is ta hold all dat stuff dat's botherin ya inside."

Boss Fight Reversed with Galaxy and you know exactly who

Yeah asdfjkl

I assumed post-emotions though to be fair the only big difference is emotionless Rubi would just. Teleport away. Bye bye Galaxy. For now.

~~~~~~~~

Was that… boss music he heard?

Rubiks grinned nervously. He was absolutely shaking a little- wouldn’t you? “Aha… Galaxy bro… Is dis a good idea…? I. I don’t think dis is really a fair fight ahahaha-” He was slowly backing away, hands up in surrender. “So, uh, let’s take dis to da Gamecube aite? More level playin field dere…” And also less chance of mortal injury.

[literally-just-mirio-headcanons]

Number 4 for the kiss prompts with a male s/o?

A/N: as it states in my bio, I only write female and gender-neutral readers, so I went the GN route on this one, hope that's alright!

4. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

This was....frustrating

to say the least

you and Mirio had been out on 3 dates now, but other then a hugs and holding hands, y’all really hadn’t been super affectionate physically, which you had been perfectly content with

until now.

“don’t get me wrong y/n, chocolate chip is for sure a classic cookie, but the best??? mmm no I don’t think so sweetheart”

let me set the scene for you

it was December, and Mirio had the fun idea of the two of you having a stay home baking date

already very cute

but this man

this man

had the utter audacity, to be before you, in a cheesy holiday sweater

lightly dusted in flour, and cutely talking about how sugar cookies are the best above all others

oblivious to the fact that if the word “kissable” had a visual reference attached to it, this would be it.

Mirio looked like he was 100% focused on the cookies he was decorating, which made you feel perfectly fine with just staring at his cute self, and thinkin about how you wanted to steal a smooch.

unfortunately for you, since that blue pupiled hecker doesn’t have any whites in his eyes, you were not aware that he caught you almost immediately, and even more in the favor of your misfortune, he was mentally planning on scaring you.

he only meant to quickly turn and get close, more suprising you than anything, but he hadn’t realized you were going to step forward to grab a cookie at the same time and well.....

yeah Isuppose at the very least he did manage to suprise you.

Your lips barely touched

It was a whisper of a kiss

But both of you jumped back in a mild flustered panic

"M-mirio wh-"

"I'm- y/n wh-"

And now its quiet ......

Not awkwardly so, but like c'mon...

You both know you wanna

However, the question in the air is: who's gonna go for it?

And as Mirio politely clears his throat and turns to seemingly resume making cookies, the choice is basically made for you.

with one hand you grab his arm, while the other turns his head as you lean in

And-

Wow.

It it dramatic to say time stops?

Maybe- but it would still be true.

Mirio doesnt hesitate at all.

His hands are round your waist in an instant

and he is beaming like the sun, trying hard not to full on grin as he kisses you, humming in complete contentment.

[localkatshelter]

Okame’s Underbelly - Explanation |5th|

(ShinsoxOC)

Katsumi’s POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso’s POV (hecker#8339)

Warning: Contains arguing, name-calling, smoking, swearing, slight misuse of quirk, and Denki and Mina supremacy

Preview (Katsumi’s POV):

| “Shinso,” I said, turning to him, “you like poetry too, right?” I said, giving him a small, inviting smile.

“No, not my thing.” he grumbled, not even turning to answer me directly.

I felt my eye twitch. I am trying. So hard. To be nice.

“Oh really? I got the feeling that you might since I think we met briefly at a poetry house once over the summer.” I said pleasantly, clenching my jaw in secret.

“Did we? Well, even if we did, I don’t think I’d remember you.” he said dismissively.

Okay, now you're just trying to piss me off. |

Unknown source for artwork. (Please let me know who’s it is if you know)

1st Chapter - Anticipation

(Katsumi's POV)

The smell of day old frying oil greeted me as I walked into Marley’s to meet up with Mina. She had asked me to grab a quick bite to eat with her before we went to a party that a friend of hers was having. She knew I would never turn down a good time nor would I ever turn down a Marley’s date. I scanned the room to find my favorite tuft of pink hair waving wildly at me. My smile morphed into shock when I saw an equally wild blonde waving at me as well. I hurried over to the table to greet them but when I arrived I saw Edgelord sitting with them as well. His head was stuck in a menu, apparently trying to seem indifferent about my arrival. I felt a strange mix of anger and anxiety rushing out of him, pushing me back towards the door. It irritated me but I decided to ignore it, focusing my attention on those who were happy to see me.

“Denki, hi! I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

“Fate must be bringing us together.” he avowed, comically suave.

I laughed. “It must be. Can’t say I mind though.”

I hugged Mina, who had gotten out of the booth when I walked over.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had friends coming too?” I asked.

“I thought you’d like the surprise!” she beamed.

“You know me, the more the merrier!” I said as we settled into our seats. I slid into the booth next to Edgelord, who still hadn’t said anything. I took off my leather jacket and tucked it into my backpack between my legs.

“Hey Shinso.” I said casually.

“Hey.” he replied gruffly.

Well this is going to be an awkward meal. He’s already on my nerves. I don’t get why he’s acting like this. I let him sleep on my couch and he can’t even muster up a decent hello? Is he trying to hurt my feelings? ... Just play nice Kat. He’s Mina’s old friend and Denki’s roommate. You can do this. Just pretend like he’s not being weird, or better yet, pretend like he’s not even there. Don’t let it get to you. I took a mental deep breath and smiled at the two across from me. The three of us chatted for a while about nothing in particular, just a little small talk about this and that. At some point, Mina mentioned something about a high school memory, which reminded me of how they all knew each other.

“Denki, you went to UA too, right? Your quirk must be really cool.” I said.

“Wanna see how it works?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously.

I looked over at Mina who smiled encouragingly at me, albeit a bit too eager for my liking.

“Uh, sure why not?”

“Give me your hand.”

I complied, placing my hand in his. He took it and flipped it so my palm was up. He dangled his fingers over my hand dramatically, like a magician about to say their magic words.

“Are you ready?”

I nodded, a bit intrigued. He placed a finger in the middle of my palm and activated his quirk, sending a small zap into my skin. A strange noise came out of my mouth when I felt the slight pain and surprise hit me. The noise sent Mina and Denki into a fit of laughter.

“What- what was that noise?” Mina choked out between giggles.

“Shut up, that hurt!”

“I- I’m sorry! It was just too tempting!” Denki wheezed.

I rubbed the slightly tender part of my palm and glared at them.

“Come on, I’ll make it up to you. Let me kiss it better.” He held out his hands to me.

I looked at him skeptically.

“I won't do it again, promise.”

I gave him my hand and he leaned down, placing an electrified kiss on the same spot as before.

“Ow!” I cried as I pulled my hand back.

Mina and Denki bursted out laughing once more, this time joined by a scoff from Shinso.

“How gullible can you be?” Shinso said under his breath.

I shot him a look but before I could say anything back, our food arrived.

We ate and the three of us continued to chat. Mina and Denki told me stories about their time at UA together. It was so cool to hear what the pro heroes that I was covering were like when they were students. I took some pretty good mental notes, not that I would ever use any of the personal information I gathered in any of my posts. That just felt like an invasion of privacy, but it did help me understand the dynamic I captured between certain heroes in my photographs. It always struck me odd how Dynamite and Deku looked when they fought together. Their relationship vexed me but pulled me in at the same time. The same applied to Dynamite and Red Riot. Hearing that one pair had been childhood friends and the other had become super close in their first year at UA shed some new light and perspective on the scenes that I had captured before.

Some of the stories were just outright hilarious too. Denki was an absolute riot and the way he and Mina played off of each other made my mission of ignoring Edgelord’s attitude super easy. He hadn’t said much of anything since our food had come to the table despite Mina and Denki trying to involve him in their storytelling. He just hummed or gave an unenthusiastic “yeah” whenever they asked him something. I didn’t need to use my quirk to feel the irritation and discomfort rolling off of him. If you don’t want to be here, then leave. I couldn’t help but feel like I was the reason he was so annoyed. I walked myself through my memories trying to figure out when exactly I ran over this kid’s cat. I really was nothing but nice. I practically saved his life, not that he knows that, but still! I bared those emotions for him! It took me forever to claw my way out of that depression hole. On top of that, I gave him a place to sleep it off and helped him move all of his shit up the stairs into his room. Why is he getting under my skin this much? Why do I even care? Everything about this is pissing me off.

“So Kat,” Denki said, interrupting my thoughts. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

“I like to take pictures and I write sometimes.” I said, covering my half full mouth.

“Well duh, you’re a photojournalism major. That doesn't count.”

“Umm,” I thought about my response as I swallowed. “Actually, I used to spend a lot of time at some hole-in-the-wall place near campus. I listened to people perform poetry and stuff like that. I went every Friday at one point to listen to a particular person. The stage name was Okame, but once they stopped performing I kind of lost interest” I checked my watch. “If Okame was still performing, I’d probably be getting ready to head over right about now.”

I felt Shinso tense up next to me. His anxiety was tugging at my quirk like toddlers aggressively tug on a parent’s sleeve. Wow, his anxiety just shot through the roof... You good kid? Maybe I should bring him into the conversation? Is that what this is about?

“Shinso,” I said, turning to him, “you like poetry too, right?” I said, giving him a small, inviting smile.

“No, not my thing.” he grumbled, not even turning to answer me directly.

I felt my eye twitch. I am trying. So hard. To be nice.

“Oh really? I got the feeling that you might since I think we met briefly at a poetry house once over the summer.” I said pleasantly, clenching my jaw in secret.

“Did we? Well, even if we did, I don’t think I’d remember you.” he said dismissively.

Okay, now you're just trying to piss me off.

“Oh yeah? Well I definitely remember you. You were outside. If memory serves, you were having a pretty rough go of it.” I turned to fully face him, shooting him a challenging glare.

I knew the irritation showed on my face, but I honestly didn’t care enough to hide my emotions anymore. He met my glare with his own. The message was clear, he wanted me to shut my mouth and drop it. But why should I? He just continued to stare me down, waiting for me to change the subject, but I had a few questions for him. Mina must have seen me ready to blow a gasket because she decided to jump in to defuse the situation.

“Well, what does it matter where you were or what you're into?” she chuckled nervously. “Kat, have you been writing anything interesting lately?”

“Or do you have any of your professional-grade photographs on your phone? I’d really love to see them! I’m sure they’re amazing!” Denki chimed in, following Mina’s lead.

“I’m gonna head out for a smoke.” Shinso said, looking at me to move.

I got up to let him out. I watched him walk out with his hands deep in his pockets. I was drilling holes into the back of his head and I knew he felt it because his frustration was overcoming his anxiety as he reached the door, but I wasn’t done with him yet.

“I’m actually going to take a step out too.”

Mina gave me a look that said Girl what? You don’t smoke. But I ignored it and followed after Shinso.

(Shinso's POV)

God must be playing some cruel joke on me, either that, or I was a shittier boyfriend than I originally thought and this was my sweet karma. I just can't seem to escape that night. I managed to stifle the buzz in my head for the most part but it keeps manifesting itself, or rather infesting, my present. Time for some more shitty coping. I pulled out the pack of cigarettes from my jacket and pulled one out. It was a bit mangled but it was my second to last one. (I imagine his last cigarettes always end up this way bc he always smokes when his mood is erratic so he just manhandles tf out these ciggies)

"It's in poor condition but it'll have to do." I muttered under my breath.

I swiftly placed it between my lips and raised the lighter to it, but the flame was quickly extinguished. Shit, why does it always have to be so windy today? I hovered my other hand over the flame to block the harsh gusts, as I furrowed my brows in concentration. I was failing miserably to light my damn cigarette. I groaned in frustration before two small hands appeared around mine. My hands jerked back, startled, extinguishing the flame immediately. I looked down and realized it was the little brunette. I composed myself with a sigh and went back to trying to light my cigarette, choosing not to pay her any attention.

"Do you want help lighting your cigarette or not?" she questioned, irritated.

I looked down at her, a stubborn expression on her face. Pick your battles, Shinso. I reluctantly leaned down towards her.

“So...” she said after the cigarette was lit. “I mean this in the nicest, most polite way possible, but what the fuck is your problem?” she interrogated.

Her sudden abrasiveness caught me off guard. "Uh...what do you mean?" When did this become an interrogation all of a sudden?

“I mean, why do you treat me like I ran over your cat on your birthday?

Her absurd question also took me aback but I was quicker to adjust this time. "I don't even know who you are?” Why am I lying? Fuck it I already said it, let's go with it.

“Oh really? So that's why you act so out of pocket any time I bring up the night we met when I found you drunk and ugly crying-”

"Okay okay, fine. Just please stop bringing it up." I interrupted hastily. "Jesus fuck." I muttered under my breath. Why does she insist on bringing it up?

“So you do remember?” she asked with mock surprise. I just looked ahead of me hoping that she would run out of steam and drop it.

“Say it.” She demanded, her volume raising this time.

"Yes." I confirmed begrudgingly. Why the fuck does she have to be so loud? She's a pro at being annoying. "But I can't say it, because I genuinely don't remember your name." This was intended to be a slight jab but I was being honest. I probably could remember it if I wasn’t actively trying to forget it.

“Not like Denki and Mina haven’t said it a million times today. It’s Katsumi.”

"Ooooh right. Kat." My voice was just short of being completely monotone.

“Kat...so you do remember. Asshole.” She rolled her eyes. She has no problem insulting me. It kind of amused me but my aggravation overshadowed it.

I shrugged at her. What does it matter anyway? It's not like we're gonna be best friends. We can barely tolerate each other as it is.

“Listen Edgelord, I think you still owe me an explanation. I’ve been nothing but nice to you. So what gives?” she insisted.

"I don't know what you're talking about. This is how I always am." I technically wasn't lying. I tended to rub strangers the wrong way, either that or I was easily forgettable.

“So you're always a total douche?” she challenged, staring me right in my face.

"Funny. Guess so." I said carelessly with a hint of a smirk at her additional loving nickname for me. Wonder what else she'll call me?

“I know you’re not though. You turn sour as soon as I come around and it bothers me. So fess up. What’s your damage?” Her expression twisted into a scowl at the end of her sentence.

That last question irked me a little more than it should've. My damage?

"Hm I don't know, maybe you being a constant reminder of one of the worst days of my life." I stated with a tinge of bitterness at the end of my words.

This seemed to catch her off guard. She took a moment to configure a response. She was either being very careful with her next words or didn't know what to say at all.

“Oh, okay, yeah. That tracks... Well I’m sorry, but I really couldn’t just leave you there.” Her tone was slightly softer than before.

"I know." I admitted reluctantly. "That's what's so frustrating." I muttered, barely audible. What made her care so much about a complete mess of a stranger? Now we're attached by that occurence and it's so embarrassing.

“Frustrating? What’s so frustrating?” She caught part of it.

"Nothing. I just- I hate that you saw me like that. It's fucking weird. I like to deal with shit on my own."

“It’s really okay, Shinso. I didn’t think about it when I saw you. I was just happy to catch up, because we got along really well that night. It wasn't until you started avoiding me like the plague that I started thinking back to remember where things went wrong.”

"Yeah, I get that. But you're always bringing it up so casually like it's the weather or some shit."

“It was the only thing that got any sort of response out of you. What else did you want me to do? Besides, It didn’t make me think of you in any type of way.” she assured me.

"I just don't get why you care." I said more to myself than to her.

She seemed to genuinely consider this for a second.

“Me either, if I’m being honest. You’re so grouchy. I almost never put up with your type. But here we are.” She shrugged and dropped her arms to her side, comically defeated.

That sentiment actually drew a chuckle out of me. It didn't seem like the most appropriate response for the situation so I tried to stifle it as best as I could.

"Yup. Here we are." I confirmed.

“So we’re friends now.” she asserted, sure of it.

"Uh...I didn't say all that." She really is bold. She keeps catching me off guard.

“But I did.” she doubled down on it.

There was a brief stare down, her amber eyes were unwavering on mine. I guess it doesn't mean much. We're just gonna have to play nice when we're around each other from now on.

I shrugged. "Okay cool." I put the cigarette to my lips again only to discover it is nothing but a dying butt now. All that annoying back and forth made me forget about one of my last cigs. "Fuck, really, Kat?" I complained with a hint of playfulness at the very edge of my tone. I'm due for a pack on Sunday so I'll just have to hold out for a day or so. I pulled out the last one and lit effortlessly. Of course now it lights with no problem.

“Blame your own stubbornness. If you had just given me an answer the first time I asked, you could have smoked until your lungs gave out.” she retorted.

There was a moment of silence as I took my first drag. I could see her eyeing my cigarette, with disgust, if I had to guess.

“Gimme one of those.” She pointed to my pocket where the now empty pack was.

I shot a look down at her, my eyebrows raised. I chuckled in surprise. I didn't take her for a smoker with the way she talks about it. I guess she's one of those self-loathing nic addicts. Kinda same. I'm just not as loud about it.

"A little too late, this is the last one." I took another drag, staring mindlessly at the horizon in front of me.

“And?” she insisted as if that was a dumb response.

I gave her another weird look before it registered. Oh...okay.

"Fine." I gave her the cigarette I was smoking.

She grabbed the cigarette, maneuvering it awkwardly in her hand before settling it between her pointer and middle finger, the typical form. She brought it to her mouth and inhaled with a pained expression. She was barely a second in before she began coughing. Yup, she doesn’t actually smoke. Her sad attempt was endearing in an odd way. It was actually kind of cute. What am I thinking? She was intolerable a second ago. Stop that, brain. You’re being weird. Scolding myself inwardly distracted me from the fact that I was laughing at her outwardly. She rolled her eyes in response, annoyed at my amusement.

“Listen, people seem to smoke when they’re stressed and well, you stress me the fuck out so I thought I’d give it a try. Show me how to do it then, since you wanna scoff at me.” She handed the cigarette back to me before crossing her arms. I followed up her request with another chuckle, shaking my head at her.

“Are you sure you wanna be my friend? I’m already teaching you bad habits.” I teased, a smirk pulling at the corner of my lips. But I obliged and raised the cigarette to my lips obnoxiously slow and inhaled. I blew the smoke in her general direction and she swatted it away with a grimace.

“Tada…” I concluded sarcastically.

“Gross...you know what? Nevermind.”

We laughed in unison. It was followed up with a moment of quiet.

“Well, Edgelord, I’ll see you at the party. Try to smile a little when you’re there. It suits you way more than your resting bitch face.”

“I’m starting to think that you don’t remember my name either. Keep it fresh and switch it up once in a while. Try...I don’t know...buzzkill next, or something.” I criticized, a smile in my voice.

She tilted her head to the side as if to say “good idea”, before I put out my cigarette and headed inside with her.

[lemonietrinket]

Love ||| Wayv x Reader

Summary: Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes, no matter how strong they are. And so when you come home from an awful day in the outside world, you are blessed to have several people come and pick you up again, setting you back on your feet. Though, not everything is as a clear cut as you perhaps once thought.

Genre: Angst, but then lots of Fluff to make up for it!! and Humour too bc i think im funny

Warning(s): Detailed description of big crying, no mention of reasons why, just left as a very bad day; single sentence description of a mild bruise; a bit of arguing but it’s mild and there as so to highlight something

Word Count: 20,314 jesus christ

Theme Song: The Flower (feat. Maximilian Hecker) - Leo; Heart Flutter - W24; Only Love Can Hurt Like This - Paloma Faith 

AN: original was a request from @idont-knowapil. I hope yall enjoy the rewrite. It’s pretty different in some places, but now there’s actually a lot of foundations for what is to come. Fem!Reader 

 ~~~

It had taken all of your strength to not cry on the way home on the bus. There were too many people around for you to let the tears fall, but you’d bitten your lip so hard it bled and had held your breath until you were heaving, for it to all prove to be little use.

You tried your best, turning your head into the glass and staring into the darkness outside, praying that no one turned to look back at you or your reflection.

As soon as you got off at your stop, unable to utter a ‘thank you’ to the driver which made you feel even worse (if that were even possible) your defences began to break down. 

Tears streamed down your face in the frozen evening air, merging with the rain and slipping between your trembling lips, the salt tingling on the tip of your tongue. Your nose ran viciously because of the wind, which also mussed up your hair causing you even more frustration as you tried to hold it out of your face, only for it to cover eyes uncomfortably again.

Your voice seeped into your breath as you tried to remain silent, strained whines at the effort it took to not openly weep as you needed to, whilst you prayed endlessly that no one would pass you by on the street and see the mess you were in.

Fumbling with your keys, just inches from being inside and away from the world, almost sent you over the edge. The key had got caught in one of the keyrings and with your shivering fingers and blurry vision, it seemed the world was kicking you while you were down. 

A cry rose in your throat, and you forced it down as best you could, until finally you crashed into the house, bags toppled by the oven across the room. You were home at last. Slamming the backdoor behind you with a strength you didn’t realise you had left, you took merely a single step inside before you tripped over an abandoned pair of shoes and fell to the floor with a thud and a sob so hard no noise came from your body. 

Today was not your day.

Your chest constricted upon itself, ribs very nearly bruising your lungs and heart, until you finally caught some air and howled.

You were ashamed of how you must have looked, sprawled on the kitchen floor, weeping hysterically, no doubt with a muddied coat and a bruised knee and hands pressed into wet footprints upon the linoleum floor. 

If you’d been told to write the worst day you could have, today took that itinerary and then dragged it through hell. 

You didn’t have the energy to stand, even if the puddles from outside that your shoes had dragged inside were being soaked up by your socks, unrolled at your heels and stained from their pristine white. Lethargically, you began to lift yourself out of the doorway as best you could, and to your feet. Your success was tainted however as you accidentally knocked your elbow against the counter ledge, and fresh tears immediately sprung to your eyes. It was the final straw for you, as you leant over the countertop and wept. Your fingers gripped the wood roughly, your forehead coming to rest against the cupboard as ‘what if’s swirled around your head. What if you’d been more polite to her. What if you’d done your printing the day before. What if you’d taken your lunch break elsewhere.

You knew rationally that nothing was your fault, but the rational part of your brain was far surpassed by raw emotion of emptiness that the uncaring world had showed you that day. 

Your ears just about caught the footsteps outside before the door opened. When it did, you flicked your head towards the man out of reflex, your muscles tensed and breath shallowed.

“Y/N?”

The door closed, and the man came to a stop a few feet from you. The light flickered on suddenly—you hadn’t noticed his hand reach to the corner and turn on the switch—and the two of you suddenly reached a realisation as quickly as you were bathed in light.

It was Kun, a sight that you unfortunately greeted with creased features and tear-stricken face.

He responded to yours with a sharp inhale. His voice was hushed and filled with concern however, as he shrugged off his bag and immediately made the rest of the way to you, “Y/N…”

The man’s palms hovered beside you, unsure of what the situation was and what to do about it.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a broken cry was the only sound you could make.

“Y/N, are you ok?” he exclaimed, lightly brushing the hair from your face to try and understand what was wrong. “What’s wrong love? P-please, I don’t…” 

At the first touch of his fingertips against your damp cheeks, you shook your head, instead slumping into his chest. You clung to him, fear gone as you cried openly into his jumper, speckled with rain. Kun was very nearly speechless, his hands eventually settling upon your back. Though of course you were still in your coat and the weather had left it sodden.

“Oh, love, oh…” he trailed off, unable to find the words. Seeing you like this hurt him beyond explanation, and he had no idea how he could even convey what he needed to do. Slipping off his shoes as quickly as he could and discarding them by the door, he reached his arms between you. “Come on, love, let’s get you out of this coat. You’ll catch a cold.”

A pang of hurt struck your heart briefly as he somewhat unceremoniously pushed you off him, but before you could begin to wallow again he’d slipped the coat off your shoulders and hooked it by the door, speaking once again, “You can get your shoes, right?”

You nodded sullenly, reaching down to undo your laces, meanwhile Kun rested his hand upon your back to hold you steady. His touch was surprisingly warm for someone who had only just come inside from the cold, however the chill of the room was creeping into your bones as your shirt provided you little warmth in the barely-heated house.

One shoe was off without a problem, however as you lifted your leg to take off the other, a twinge of pain ricocheted through your knee. You had clearly fallen harder than you had first imagined.

“Love? Did you hurt yourself?” he enquired, as his mind finally connected the dots as to what had happened, roughly. 

“I…” you began, swallowing thickly, before you realised you didn’t exactly have enough energy to finish what you had started. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got it.” And without hesitation, Kun crouched down to remove the shoe for you. 

You felt pathetic to say the least. Like a child who had thrown a tantrum but had a parent who spoiled her nonetheless. You’d only hurt your knee, too. How could you possibly need someone else to remove your own shoe?

Truth be told, Kun felt like he wasn’t doing anywhere near enough, and had leapt at the chance to help you in absolutely any way possible. 

Besides, before you could really do anything about it he’d placed your shoes neatly on the rack and returned to your side. “Alright, you’re good to walk?”

You nodded after a moment of hesitation, making his concern worsen. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was shaky, but possessed enough certainty to convince him at least.

“Ok, that’s good. Where does it hurt?” 

“Just… my knee…”

“Cut? Bruise?” His eyes dropped down instinctively to check, to only find a few muddy splotches upon your trousers.

You sighed, trying to work up the effort to explain. “I o-only tripped… hit it on the… the floor—stupid shoes.”

He was mildly startled by the sudden venom in your voice, glancing back to try and see whose shoes it had been. A wave of panic rushed to his chest as he spotted his overturned shoes in the middle of the doorway.

“Love… I’m so sorry, they’re mine. They must have fallen, I’m sorry—” 

Your heart crashed to the pit of your stomach as you heard his words, and suddenly you felt terrible for even speaking. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m ok, it’s ok, I’m not mad, it—it…” Your teeth sank into your lip as you desperately tried to quell the overwhelming urge to cry again.

“Hey, it’s alright! I…” Kun’s eyes flew wide open as he attempted to ease the situation. He quickly changed tact. “Love, why don’t you go get changed? You’ll get cold otherwise. I’ll get an ice pack for your knee, and everything will be alright… yeah?”

You swallowed, mouthing a ‘thank you’ that you had intended to give a voice to, but it did not come. Deciding he had the right idea as you shivered, you edged your way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your room, clutching to the banister as you went. 

.

.

.

Stumbling into your bedroom, you set yourself down on your bed with a sigh, disgruntledly throwing some the clothes you’d discarded on the covers that morning out of the way onto the floor beside the end of your bed. 

You haphazardly removed your clothes, your elbow crying out in pain now too as you stretched a bit too far, leading you to whimper. Even after changing into a warmer set of pyjamas, you remained cold.

As you began to shift your legs to attempt to remove your dirty socks, Kun knocked on the door.

You really wanted to reply with a ‘come in’, but all that really came out was an awkward hum.

He got the message however, slipping his body through a tiny crack in the door as if he didn’t want to disturb the room. He’d put himself into a more comfortable hoodie to keep himself warm before he’d come to you, a pack of cold peas in his hand.

“Honestly, you’d think we’d have specific ice packs in this household but, no,” he chuckled sheepishly, “all we have is cold peas. For some reason. Who here even likes peas?”

Had you been bright as you normally were you would have pressed the charge, accusing him of being the pea lover, since he was the dad of the house, obviously. You lamented the fact that you weren’t able to really muster even the melancholic humour it at the very least required.

In the period of time you’d been zoned out, the man was by your side, eyes searching your face. “Are you sure you’re doing fine?” He handed you the peas as you nodded slowly, accepting them with an empty face.

While you grimaced, feeling the ice cut deep into your bones, Kun found himself unable to watch, turning his attention elsewhere. He couldn’t help but note that whenever the slightest bit of pain touched you, whether it was physical or emotional, he couldn’t stand it. It was as if his entire chest contorted into a cage, the bones of his ribs becoming iron bars and just… crushing.

He found himself scooping up your dishevelled clothes from the floor and folding them neatly, before stacking them on your desk chair. Except the dirty ones, he’d looped those over his arm. 

“Hey, I’ll just go put these in the wash real quick, ok?” His eyes carefully moved to look over to you again. He found your own gazing at the trousers upon his arm, glistening.

Before he could mention any comfort, they’d slipped to the pitiful state of your socks, as you choked an apology. It seemed so irrational to you to get so upset about socks, but they had been so clean and you’d just messed them up and you couldn’t help but blame yourself. 

Kun however wasn’t letting you descend again.

He came to your side, shushing you gently. His fingers reached your head, stroking your hair with a gentle care you’d never felt from him before. “Love, sweetheart, it’s ok! It’s ok, it’s not your fault.”

He cursed himself in his head. If it was anyone’s fault in this scenario, it was his. He didn’t want to upset you further by mentioning that though, and so managed to keep it to himself. 

“Let's just get you out of these, so they can be washed and all clean again, yeah?” He gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. “Do you need any help?”

You really didn’t want to accept that you did. To try and prove that, you slipped your left sock off with an issue, to which Kun took off your hands swiftly and added to his looped pile. However, even with the added angles from your bed, the makeshift ice pack prevented you from really removing the second one without pain.

Kun wordlessly took to his knees so he could help. 

His kindness was tugging at your heart, smashing it to pieces in your vulnerable state, only to pull it all back together again. You didn’t feel worthy of his care, but on the other hand all you wanted was him to stay and never leave you.

In seconds the sock was gone and your foot cool. You expected him to stand again, but he remained on the carpet.

You peered down at him. “K-Kun?”

He was looking at the peas. “Love, can I see your knee?” He glanced upwards, soft eyes meeting your own for a brief moment before slipping away. “I just want to make sure it’s not too bad.”

Lifting the ice pack away from your knee cautiously, you helped him ease the cloth of your pyjamas up over your knee. 

He hissed at the sight of the bruise you found there, as if the pain were his own. “Oh, love that looks painful.”

“D-does it?” The sight of the pinkish circle only startled you in the sense that it didn’t look that bad. 

“It must hurt a lot,” he reiterated, “be careful around it. Don’t want you getting hurt more.”

“Oh… ok…” 

The rough pads of his fingers left your skin, as you shifted the cloth back over your leg, all while goosebumps began to speckle across your arms.

Kun noticed immediately, eyes darting around the room as he got to his feet. Eventually he settled on the blanket balled up somewhat at the foot of your bed. Unravelling it, he brandished it around you like a cape, before wrapping you up in it.

“There.” He seemed pretty proud of his work, a smile finally adorning his handsome features. “Feel a little more comfortable?” 

You pulled your eyes up to meet his gaze, and attempted to give a smile. It didn’t work. You settled on another nod.

“Well, that’s a success.” He laughed softly. You always liked the sound of his happiness, he always sounded so warm. “I’m going to head back downstairs, you want to come or stay up here?”

“I’ll…” you took a deep breath, “I’ll come.”

“Yeah? Great!” Your answer made his face light up even further, eyes actually turning into beautiful crescents. His sudden excitement reflected in his actions too, as he outstretched his hand to you, to help you up.

You took it as quickly as you could manage for how tired you still were, and the thought of how nice it felt to be holding his hand crossed your mind without a single hindrance. In fact it worried you, for reasons you were too exhausted to try and determine. And so you decided to drop it, fast. 

It was surely nothing after all. 

.

.

.

After leading you downstairs in a comfortable silence, you were eventually on the centre of the sofa, all the remotes beside you, with Kun by the entrance to the kitchen.

 “I’ll make you some food? Ramyun will be good right?” he hesitated, feeling the corners of his lips twitch at the sight of you, encompassed by the blanket like a burrito. It wasn’t fair how adorable you were.  “Or grab you some more blankets, anything you need.”

You hummed sadly, trying to draw your lips together to speak.

“Yes, love?”

He was so patient.

“I…” you swallowed, hands tiredly lifting away from your body and towards him, as outstretched as you could manage, “can I have… have a… hug? Please…?”

His features softened even further, if that were even possible, his eyes regarding you carefully as his lips curled into a smile.

Before he could answer—and make no joke, his answer would have been to take a seat beside you and instantly take you into his arms—there was a clatter, as the back door opened. Several voices swarmed over one another, littered with giggles and whoops as they bickered in the falling darkness.

Kun’s head turned to the kitchen, and he nodded as he saw what you presumed was the face of one of the members through the doorway. “I think you can get a really big one, now,” he remarked, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Not quite understanding the situation, you merely pouted, feeling the burn in your heart. 

Kun was extremely aware of how your face fell so drastically “I can’t leave them in charge of cooking can I?” Kun explained with a chuckle, worry tinging his voice. “Please don’t be sad, love. I-I’ll hug you later I promise.”

“Promise?” you asserted.

“With my whole heart.”

His words threw your own through a loop. 

Kun meanwhile called out to the others, “Welcome home! You’re late, but I’ll let it slide if you come here and help me.”

There were a couple of confused ‘eh’s until a few familiar faces came into the room, shrugging off their coats. 

You almost broke into fresh tears as you saw Xuxi’s bright, sunny smile drop from his face when he laid eyes on you.

“Y/N?!” he exclaimed, glancing at Kun for an explanation.

At the sound of his deep-set shout, Sicheng leant out from behind the giant puppy’s shoulders to see what Xuxi was so upset about.

He too went from quietly happy to extremely concerned at the sight of your reddened cheeks.

You quickly became very embarrassed. You hadn’t been cute crying, exactly, and you figured you still looked like a dazed, tear-stained mess. 

That was when Ten slipped past the two of them abruptly, running over to you before you could even cry in surprise. 

“No no, no…!” he cooed, perching very carefully on the edge of the sofa, his body turned completely towards you as he extended his hands to your face. He dabbed at your mottled cheeks rather frantically, the coolness of his fingers making you shiver, as they were chilled the winter, whilst your skin had been made hot by tension and stress.

“No, baby, are you ok? What’s wrong? What happened?” He glanced back at Kun who was heading through into the kitchen. “Kun, is it just my hands or is she running a fever?” Before you could answer he continued, eyes shining, “Are you hurt? Sick? Did someone hurt you?”

“They better not have hurt you!” Xuxi interjected, leaning over the back of the sofa. “If they did then you tell me their names, Y/N,” he said diligently, “I’ll make sure they never even look at you again I swear—!”

Sicheng rolled his eyes, a light scoff drifting from his lips as he patted Xuxi's shoulder, before heading round to the chair opposite you. “It’s ok guys, she’s not dying.”

He’d said it with a joking lilt and a gentle tone, but Ten’s mouth hung open as he shot him a look. “I know she’s not, but she’s upset and I’m not having that!”

“Neither will I!” 

“Xuxi, you couldn’t hurt anyone even if you tried,” Ten returned, turning his full attention back to you. “Now, if my girl is not sick, and not physically hurt, then I know exactly what she needs, don’t I?”

As soon as he grinned at you, you couldn’t help but let the corners of your own lips lift. And, much like a chain reaction, as soon as he saw you brighten, even if only slightly, his smile grew into a beam.

“My girl wants hugs, doesn’t she?” he murmured, giddily tapping his finger against the tip of your nose.

You couldn’t avoid emitting a squeak at the contact—his fingers were too cold—but rationale had also left you in some parts, perhaps, as you nodded eagerly, dragging your arms up and throwing them out to welcome him in.

Ten slipped back on the sofa, pulling you into his chest protectively. He was careful to place his hands where they wouldn’t touch your skin, but also where you would know he was there, and so he nestled one into your waist and the other upon the back of your head. 

Adjusting your position only slightly to lessen the pressure off the bridge of your nose, you settled your face in the nook of his neck, fingers laced in his shirt, as you took in the scent of his cologne. He must have several varieties but this one was easily your favourite—whatever it was. It was light, but deep and welcoming, with the openness of a spring day but the independence of a lucid dream, which was kind of how you felt held so close to his heart. You could feel it beating against your arm, seeping through your sleeves and sinking into your skin, through to your own heart, which skipped as soon as the thought of it all struck your conscious mind. You very nearly forgot about the others around you, though as soon as you’d been dipped into the waters of serenity, you’d been pulled out by your own awareness.

Ten was stroking your hair gently, though his touch was shallow to avoid both knots and making you shiver.

Kun was instructing someone about something, words just out of reach for you to piece together, but no sooner than he’d finished, a loud voice that could only be recognised as Xuxi’s, yelled, “group hug!” and a figure then bounded around the sofa.

You couldn’t see Sicheng, so had no idea what he was doing, but you heard a chuckle that sounded like his. 

And a second after you’d questioned the reasoning behind his amusement, you felt a weight crash behind you on the couch.

Ten snapped up out of surprise, indicating he perhaps hadn’t seen in coming either, and with his hand leaving your head, you pressed yourself up slightly to try and get a better look at what happened.

“Hm—?”

It was no use however, because you were knocked back against Ten with a yelp from both of you, as the newcomer practically slammed his weight against your back.

Ten hauled you up as best he could so you weren’t stuck in a folded position but what you had ended up in nonetheless was still not overly comfortable. As you glanced at him you could see his lips wavering, formulating a sentence to most likely scold whoever had pushed the sudden attack with.

But there was no need, as you felt a pair of much longer arms encircle you and pull you more upright, a chin coming to rest surprisingly neatly on your shoulder.

“Hi, Y/N!” Xuxi sang, tapering off into a giggle as he gave you a tiny squeeze.

You laughed bemusedly, relieved to be alive, but also welcoming the warmth from the other side. Xuxi was in fact much warmer, to the point he could be described as an actual radiator, and with him smushed against your back you felt as if you were truly at home.

After a few seconds of his eyes evaluating the sight that he could see and you could not, it seemed that Ten appeared to accept it eventually too. Even with you practically stolen from his arms, he laughed it off, identifying that he could be perfectly comfortable laying into you rather the other way round.

With roles reversed, he slipped a hand up to your collarbone, resting his head just above the other, and seeking the opportunity to wrap one of his legs over yours, which was jutting out over the side of the sofa. Now you could see the room more clearly, and, with a tired laugh, you waved at Sicheng who was watching the borderline catastrophe with a confused but delighted grin on his features. There was a shade to his eyes though, something that you couldn’t quite place. 

Peering over Ten’s head, you could see Kun leaning against the doorway, smiling proudly, as if the whole thing had been his doing.

Though thinking back to Xuxi’s sudden, but most likely inevitable, surprise attack, it maybe had been.

“Hi…!” You waved at him too, leading him to chuckle.

“Hello,” he replied, “you look better already.”

And with a brief scrunch of his nose, he was pushing himself off the wall’s edge and heading into the kitchen. 

You pressed your chin into the crown of Ten’s hair, smiling tightly as quiet settled over the room.

You loved all of them, you honestly did, and you would never do without their bickering and yelling and screeching laughter. But it was relieving to hear peace every once in a while, with the only sound being the sound of steadied breaths—two pairs of which had become more-or-less synonymous with your own. 

“You sure you don’t want to join us, Chengie?”

It was Xuxi that spoke.

You could have bet a million with certainty that it would be him that broke the silence. Man could never stay quiet for long, which was often one of the most endearing parts about him, as it often led him to some extraordinary lengths to find something, anything to say, crafting absolutely wonderful results. A lot of what Xuxi had to say ended up being enshrined as legendary tales that got passed down the long line of units until everyone had heard some form of what he’d said, and if not, they were plastered all over social media at the very least. At least half of them were your doing as well, in the sense that you were the prime messenger, relaying it to Johnny when you next video called him just to hear him one-up your story with one that originated from Mark, or Jungwoo whenever he visited.

The thought of how long he’d been missing for washed over you like sinking into a silent lake. He was back now, and you had been elated when you’d heard the news, waking up to a call from a no doubt bleary-eyed Jungwoo. But the pain of the near radio-silence at some points or his hiatus had been particularly tough to bear. And you hadn’t been the only one suffering.

You glanced back as best you could to the man who had spoken, his words on this occasion unfortunately not sparking much interest, as you waited for a response.

“No.” Sicheng shook his head once, voice neither amused nor melancholic, continuing, “But thank you.”

“Oh, ok! More space for us!” Xuxi’s responses were always bright and cheerful. You felt your heart lurch at the memory of the few times when they hadn’t been.  

Meanwhile the man in question punctuated his words with another, tighter squeeze, which made you cry out in mildly strained laughter as you were brought back to the real world.

“Hey!”

“Dear lord…” Ten sighed, rolling his body-weight to allow his voice to carry into the kitchen. “Kun?!”

There were a few moments of silence, besides the sound of a knife meeting a chopping board from the kitchen. As you knocked your head back, Xuxi fingers digging into your sides, Ten proceeded, desperately trying to avoid your jolting legs, “When are the kids—ow!—when are the kids getting back?! Xu—xi!—is getting boisterous again!”

You freed one of your arms to poke your assailant’s side, making him jump and momentarily loosen his grip with a yelp—an opportunity you took without halt, shifting yourself out of his arms so you could tackle him head on. 

“Ten, play nice!” you asserted gently, catching Xuxi’s hands and pushing against them as hard as you could with a laugh. You knew that if he was genuinely trying he would own you in an instant but you appreciated his instincts telling him to go easy on you. At least for now.

“I could say the same about you, actually!” Ten huffed, curled up on the furthest corner of the sofa and feeling rather discarded. 

He watched the two of you wrestle, giggling through puffs of worn-out breaths, and couldn’t quite stop the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. He did find it endearing how you cared for the others, and how bouncy you could really get. 

Though it was clear to say you were quickly tiring, and couldn’t keep up the chase as much as was perhaps needed. And so, he came to the rescue.

“Y/N! I’m cooooold…!” Ten whined.

Just because he was second oldest didn’t mean he was above whinging to get what he wanted.

Regretting how you’d unceremoniously shoved Ten off you, and accidentally somewhat kicked him, and then forgotten about the poor guy, you just about managed to slink your hands out of Xuxi’s with a quick exhale, swiftly backing off and sweeping your hands out of his reach as he tried to catch them again.

“Xuxi, no,” you murmured very softly, as if you were talking to a puppy, which  to be honest it could be argued that you were, “Ten’s sad I gotta go.”

“Awh…”

“I’m also tired…”

“But what if I’m sad?”

Behold. There it was. The legendary Xuxi pout. Irresistible to those without prior training.

You shook your head, laying back to recline in Ten’s open arms. He immediately curled into you, cheek nuzzling your hair as he smiled victoriously.

Meanwhile Xuxi’s eyes widened further, glistening like clear gemstones in the evening light. 

You held out your own hands, inviting him to come to you, however. “You can come and cuddle again though.”

He accepted that point, albeit a little sulkily, as he leant down, placing his head in your lap and a hand in yours as he arranged his unimaginably large frame into a ball to fit on the sofa, with room to spare.

It always confused you how someone so big could be so small.

Both their grips were a little firmer once they’d reestablished them; Ten’s now warmer hand had found its place upon the bare skin below the hem of your shirt, shielding it from the chill of the room while simultaneously making your heart beat just that little bit quicker, and Xuxi’s rested neatly around your thigh.

You were comfortable though, at last.

.

.

.

The kids, as they had been dubbed, arrived not long after, just as the delicious scent of Kun’s famous cooking began to fill the whole room to the brim. They stepped into a delightfully warm house, the tips of their noses and clouds of their cheeks blushed pink from the cold outside, and immediately they were stripping themselves free of their coats, as the temperature difference made them feel too hot to cope.

You’d rested in peace upon the sofa, kept warm but not too much so between the combined body heat of Ten and Xuxi. Sicheng meanwhile had taken out his phone a while ago, occasionally showing you funny memes and pictures he found. You didn’t really understand some of them, and he had to explain them, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, even if that same shadow tinted his eyes again as he did it. 

As he entered the living room, Xiaojun regarded the sight of the three of you piled on the couch with curiosity to say the least, brows furrowing as he let the two behind him pass.

Yangyang barely scraped a glance at you, until he came back and saw it properly, smirking. “What is this?” 

“Y/N was feeling sad, so we had to come and cheer her up!” Xuxi jumped in, shifting his weight upwards so his head was resting upon your stomach and where he could just about see the new arrivals.

“By… piling on the sofa?” 

“What’s wrong Yangyang?” Ten snickered, before cooing, “Do you feel left out that I’m not babying you too?”

The youngest narrowed his eyes defiantly at the elder, who merely stuck his tongue out.

“Hey, you can join us if you want,” you interrupted cleanly, the wobble in your voice long gone. 

“Can I?!” Hendery called from behind the two stood in the walkway, slipping through to poke his head around Xiaojun where you could see him. His lips were curved into a tiny little smile, eyes wide and clear and glimmering in hope for a ‘yes’.

“Of course!” you replied, hand leaving Ten’s arm and beckoning both of them over. 

“I don’t think there’s any room,” Xiaojun remarked, exhaling amusedly as he hung up his bag round the banister, “you might have to take it in turns.”

At this, you felt both pairs of hands’ grips tighten, as if in reflex. 

“But...!” Xuxi stuttered in his defence. “But I’m—!”

Ten meanwhile snorted in disapproval. “No, I’m comfy. You’ll have to drag me off yourself.”

“Not sure that’s a wise idea,” Sicheng said, barely looking up from his phone, “you’re the lightest one here, you know.”

As the two chaotic forces glanced at one another, grins affirming their idea before snapping back to begin stepping over to the smallest link in the chain, Kun’s voice rose above them all. 

“Dinner’s ready! Come get it! The later you are, the less dumplings you get!” 

It was as if it was a survival zone, as everyone barrelled to the kitchen. 

Xuxi, no matter how loyal he could be, was always swayed by food, and so you had anticipated his sudden departure. However you could never have claimed to have expected the brief placement of his lips to the skin of your temple.

It was so quick and sudden and barely there that you couldn’t even begin to rationalise it. In fact, you only ended up conceiving that it hadn’t been a kiss at all. Perhaps it had never even been. You could have so easily imagined it, his lips grazing the air that surrounded you, muttering something instead. He could have so easily done, as you hadn’t really been listening. 

Either way he slipped out of your hands, leaving you wrapped in Ten’s arms.

He—not that you could see due to the angle you were resting at—sent a glare to the retreating man as he made his way to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but do it, and he stopped as soon as he realised his features had become twisted in such a way. 

He remained pressed against your back, unwilling to leave as he was not affected as severely by the thought of dinner, his hands remaining in their places in proof. 

“Can’t we stay here and eat dinner?” he mumbled against your ear.

“I don’t think Kun would ever allow that.” You giggled. “Not after last time.”

“You never know until you try…” Without much warning, Ten tilted his head towards where Hendery had just exited from and shouted, “Kun?! Can Y/N eat her food on the sofa?!”

The man’s response was immediate. “No! Definitely not—! Not after last time!”

“See,” you snorted, patting his knee in consolation, “told you.”

The man rolled his eyes, sitting up reluctantly with you following suit, as he stretched his arms and back. “Fine. Come on, let’s eat.”

.

.

Dinner was a ruckus, as usual.

You cram eight people around a table and it will always be noisy, but if you then make half of those people crackheads and the other half happy to allow them to be crackheads, then you’ve got yourself a table of absolute chaos.

With the conversation flitting every few seconds, words bouncing from one side of the room to the other to a rhythm of laughter, many would probably have arranged to sit in their rooms to eat but you would never dream of doing such a thing. 

Hearing the banter, weekly in-jokes and teasing was necessary, as it always lifted your spirits—as long as you weren’t upset at the time they picked on you. Luckily the previous cuddling had worked, and you were back to feeling ok, your problems not seeming so impossible anymore. 

However, ‘ok’ was not good enough for these guys, and you knew they wouldn’t leave you at just that. They’d already given you some of their own dumplings (except Xuxi who had kept his to himself with a muffled apology) to you. And besides, you had a promise to keep to the two youngest.

As soon as you spotted the natural lull in conversation, you piped up, “Hey, do you guys want to watch a film tonight?”

Your suggestion was met with a flourish of agreement, only that two faces also fell.

One tried to hide it somewhat valiantly, no doubt to protect you from feeling bad. The other didn’t possess the finesse for this as such, and more-or-less openly sulked at the dining table.

You looked at the two of them. “Ten? Xuxi?”

“SuperM,” Ten remarked, voice monotonous, “meeting on tour dates.”

You let out a small ‘ah’ in understanding. You attempted to look on the brighter side. “There’s always next week…!”

Xuxi nodded sadly, while Ten huffed, earning him a side-eye from Kun. 

“In my defence,” he began, holding up a finger to the eldest in a request for him to wait,  “they’ve worked out all the dates that don’t clash for us. It’s 127 they’re having trouble with, and the managers there can’t seem to do basic maths, because they’ve confirmed two lots of dates that don’t actually work. It must be driving Taeyong mad over in Korea.”

“Why do you need to be there, then?” Yangyang asked.

“We don’t,” Xuxi emphasised.

Ten sighed. “No, I think we do. Even if we’ve outlined our schedules a hundred times, we still need to be in the room while they set the dates, for legal reasons. It’s just irritating that we have to sit there for hours on end, barely able to do anything to help, and if we do have any suggestions, that a—jerk of a—what is he? A producer? Executive? I don’t even know—he won’t let us speak half the time, because of his strange superiority complex that basically means he won’t allow us to ever speak, the absolute f—”

“Ten.” Kun’s voice was hard as stone, his eyes carved into a warning stare. 

He sighed, standing and offering to take the others’ empty bowls and plates. “The point is, this shouldn’t be going on for any longer than it already has, and so tonight won’t be very peaceful, but it’ll be worse if we don’t leave soon.” As he leant over the table to collect your bowl, he whispered, “I’ll be here pretty much all tomorrow though. You?”

You nodded, eyes fallen at the sound of the mess he’d been drawn into. Everyone was so tired, him and Xuxi especially with their extra schedules, and so being dragged through that was only going to stress them out even more. They needed the movie night more than perhaps the others did. 

Noticing the downturn in the energy of the room, as well as how crestfallen you appeared to be at his plight, Ten offered you a wink in response. It took a lot of energy to try to slow the tempo of your heart after that.

Xuxi collected the remaining utensils in one hand, giving everyone a big wave with the other. “We will return!” he announced.

“What are you going to do?” Xiaojun enquired. “About the ‘guy’, I mean?”

Ten shrugged, tilting his head to the side melodramatically. “Guess if he tries anything this time, he’ll face the pure wrath of this bad bitch.”

“Ten!” you cried in faux shock, a gasp quilting the air. “What have we said about swearing in front of the child!”

Laughter erupted as everyone synchronously looked at Yangyang, who was sending you an exaggerated scowling pout. “Not cool Y/N! I’m not a child!”

“Oh yes that’s right, you’re not a child, Yangyang,” Kun interjected plainly, leading the table to hush as each person accepted his words as an instruction to quieten.

Except everyone was wrong. 

Kun glanced at you with a surprisingly sly smile, and then at Ten, then round the entire table, before looking Yangyang dead in the eye, and uttering the words, “You’re baby.”

A plume of cheers erupted round the room as Hendery shrieked with laughter, Xuxi dropping a spoon out of pure joy, leaving Yangyang to merely accept his fate as burned.

.

.

.

You bid both Ten and Xuxi farewell from your place in the armchair closest to the kitchen, soon enough hearing them slip out of the backdoor and into the night. But you barely caught Kun as he seemed to follow them.

After performing a near-comical double-take, mind ticking and realising that the person who had silently swept through in their wake was Kun, you very nearly leapt into the kitchen, the clunk of a car door slam piercing the darkness as your eyes searched for the leader. 

“Kun?”

The man jumped nearly out of his skin, just outside in the cold, halting his motion to shut the door as you poked your head into sight. “Oh, Y/N. Is everything ok?”

You nodded, humming. As you stepped forward, you pulled your shirt further up to your chin to try and retain some heat so as to combat the flurry of new, cold air. “Where are you going?”

His eyes were transfixed upon your face, not that you could make that out in the dim light. All while he could distinguish yours much more clearly, the chalk platter face of the moon granting you a celestial glow from where it rose above the neighbouring buildings. “Oh, giving them a lift, so they don’t have to walk, since it’s so dark out,” he sheepishly apologised, “I should have mentioned it, sorry. But you can start the film without me, I don’t mind!”

“Oh, ok,” you mumbled. You had been about to say you’d make sure everyone waited for him, as you were aware the drive wouldn’t be long, but his words had stopped you in your tracks. 

There was no way for him to avoid the dip in the glimmer of your eyes at what he had said, but he couldn’t push his departure any longer. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. I promise I won’t be long.”

You tried to lift your arms in time to request that hug he owed you, but the door had closed before he could have accepted. 

You couldn’t help but wallow a little bit in your thoughts for a moment. You’d wanted to have as many people in as possible, as those were always the best times. And you understood you couldn’t have Ten and Xuxi, so why couldn’t you have Kun to make up for it…?

He was helping them, however, and going by how freezing it was out there, you had to acknowledge you would have scolded him for not offering to drive them the pretty long distance to the executive building somewhat on the other side of town. It made you kind of hypocritical, and you couldn’t quite shake that thought off.

At that moment, there was a slosh of water that made your ears prick up, leading you to turn towards the sink.

You hadn’t even noticed Xiaojun there, doing the washing up as he’d been elected to by Kun as he left the table. You felt bad for a bit but it was surprisingly dark in the room, and in your defence, he’d been basically silent the entire time. 

“You alright, Y/N?” he enquired, adding more hot water to the bowl.

“I could ask the same about you?” you glanced around the room, looking for the lightswitch. “Has the bulb gone again?”

“No, the light’s fine.”

“Oh, well…” You made your way over to the switch.

“Don’t turn it on,” he announced, tipping his head over his shoulder. The lights from the next room crystalised in his eyes, azure-gold and tracing a diamond upon his cheek. It illuminated the curve of his lips, as he spoke again, quieter this time, “Come here.”

You did what he asked, brushing his shoulder with yours as you came to his side.

You tried to meet his gaze, looking up to his face and drawing across his features, only to get distracted by the shine of his silver hair, tracing down his skin and curling round the shell of his ear so neatly. Plush lips parted as he spoke and you raised your eyes to meet his, only to have him turn away at the last second.

You were left with no choice but to follow where his stare was facing. 

“Look, out there,” he whispered, gently placing a plate at the bottom of the bowl.

You peered into the garden, dimly lit by the light from the living room dancing beyond you, the faint silver of the moon, next door’s garden light, and nothing more—the sky starless and as dark and thick as ink. You couldn’t see a single shape, or even determine the colour of the grass, and it disheartened you to have to explain it to Xiaojun, who was clearly much more excited than you were.

“Jun? I can’t see anything,” you murmured, but he hushed you suddenly, leaving you to slam your lips shut, heart pinched.

After a few seconds he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper, “We have to be really quiet. And no sudden movements. She’ll appear very soon, I know she will.”

You frowned, glancing through the dark window, confronted by the hazy grass of the garden meeting the grey tile of the patio, and then your own musty reflection as your eyes switched focus.

You couldn’t see much of Xiaojun in the glass, the shadow engulfing much of his mirrored-self. However, you could see one half of his face, shaded as if through clouds, his crown crudely lit like a halo from the auburn behind. 

A sigh very nearly left your lips as you stole another glance at his real face, his brow furrowing while his eyes narrowed into the darkness outside, teeth ever-so-slightly teasing his bottom lip as he peacefully waited.

It wasn’t fair how ethereal he was sometimes.

Suddenly he perked up, eyes widening, and leaning into you as he carefully pointed with a soap-sud painted finger into the black. “Look! There!”

You leant forward on the edge of the counter, eyes desperately scouring the garden until you spotted what he was waiting for.

A small bundle, tapered with jagged edges upon its top, snuffling through the shadows. A moment’s thought, and you finally put an understanding to the creature.

A tiny hedgehog, on the search for food.

As she came closer, you could just about make out the twitching of a nose, while she made a somewhat beeline for the fence on the left hand side of the garden. There you could just about make out a weathered blue pet-bowl, filled with some food of sorts.

“There she is,” Xiaojun sighed, whispering a laugh sheepishly. “I was beginning to worry there for a bit, I’ll be honest.”

A wide smile rose to your face, overtaken by the purity of an animal that small just... shuffling through the cold to find food which had been placed in the back garden—and just for her too.

“Did you…?”

“Yeah, the dog food was me,” he replied. “She only comes when it’s quiet here, which isn’t often but it does happen after dinner, as the others get quiet. That’s why I offer to do the work here, so I can check up on her.”

You couldn’t glance away from the hedgehog, especially when she finally reached the bowl and began to tuck in. Though it was in the shade and it was very hard to see anything besides the bowl by that point, made to stand out against the night by the brightness of its sides.

“She’ll eat it all no doubt, she didn’t come yesterday. Unless she has somewhere else and is just running rings around me,” he chuckled, picking up the plate. 

“Why didn’t she turn up?” you asked, wrenching your eyes away to look at Xiaojun again.

The corners of his eyes rose as he wrinkled his nose briefly. “Xuxi’s euphoria last night?” 

You stood confused for a second, trying to retrace your memory, until you finally struck gold. “Oh yea! Jungwoo’s message! I think it was everyone’s euphoria to be honest,” you sighed, laughter at how over-the-top-bubbly Xuxi had been at the sight of his groupmate just texting him ‘hello’ dwindling, “I’d been worried sick about him. No matter how many times anyone assured me he was ok, I knew I wouldn’t settle until I heard it from him himself.”

“It’s alright, I understand that. And I’m pretty sure the others do too.”

As your eyes fell, remembering the anxiety you had about his condition, Xiaojun’s finally settled back on you. 

“You’re extremely kind Y/N, you almost care too much,” he said, “I know Jungwoo can’t wait to see you again, too.”

You finally met his gaze, letting a small smile rise to your lips as you did so. He was just so beautiful, you couldn’t actually look away even if by some bizarre curse you wanted to.

“Thank you, Junnie.”

“I mean it though, Y/N,” he insisted softly, eyes alight with a sudden certainty, “I worry sometimes you care too much about others, and though we appreciate it very much, I don’t…” His voice faltered, as if he’d spoken too much. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself in the process, and forget to care for yourself. We all love looking after you, but we also don’t want you to be hurt at all, if we can help it. So if something hurts you, let us know immediately, so we can support you… yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing as you felt your throat clench. His words were so kind—too kind. It made your heart wrench. Blinking quickly, you looked back into the garden, spotting the hedgehog making her way back to the hedgerow.

At that moment, a voice rose from the living room. “Y/N! What film do you want to watch?”

Somewhat grateful for the distraction, you felt the urge to cry dissipate as you took another glance at Xiaojun. He hadn’t looked away from you this time, it seemed, but you didn’t focus upon that for your own sanity. “I’d better go,” you said, “thank you for showing me the hedgehog. She’s really cute, I’m glad you feed her.”

“No problem, I’ll let you do it tomorrow, if you have time and would like to?”

“That sounds great!” You sent him a grin, covering any sadness you had felt a few moments before. Laying your hand on his shoulder for a second before you passed as a small farewell, you made your way to the living room to go help Yangyang. 

As you reached the archway though, you turned back around to ask one more thing, the thought suddenly preoccupying you to a stop. “Oh, Xiaojun?”

“Yes?” He finished washing a plate and placed it on the draining board, peering over his shoulder at you once again. 

“Does she have a name? The hedgehog?”

In the shadows of the kitchen, you thought you saw him falter, his lip waver in an attempt to formulate a sound, a shape, a word. Brash to the silence, you heard a stutter in his answer.

“Actually, no, I didn’t think... I just call her ‘hedgehog’.”

You spluttered at his seeming inhumanity. How could he possibly not name the poor little thing?

Your disappointment in him was obvious too, and so he hastily added, “Maybe you could come up with one?”

You reasoned with the suggestion, but it didn’t take long before you responded happily with a nod. “I’ll see what I can come up with. See you in a bit!” 

After you left the room, however, he let out a sigh of relief.

He was glad you’d fallen for that excuse, especially since it was so far from the truth. The first thing that he had done, once he realised the hedgehog was a regular, was give her a name. And since she was adorable, with her little nose and love for food, he decided to name her after the first adorable thing he thought of.

He hadn’t foreseen the issue that would occur if he showed her to the person of which he’d secretly named the hedgehog after. 

.

.

.

You spun round the door-frame, willing your thoughts to clear and dissipate. You clapped your hands against your cheeks to try and cool them from the raging pink they had flushed from your previous conversation. Being so close to him had hit a nerve within you somewhere, though what it was, you couldn’t quite comprehend. 

As you passed through, Hendery slipped round the other corner and collided into you.

His sudden appearance made you jump, a rather pathetic yelp uttered past your lips as you quickly found yourself losing your balance after an effort to haphazardly make distance between the sudden newcomer.

Luckily for you, Hendery’s reactions were faster than your falling. He grasped your shoulder firmly, though in such a manner it made you wonder if he wanted to touch you at all—you were at arm's length, his fingers fanned out to rest upon your shoulder blades, his touch barely there, yet very much present. 

You were quick to slot back onto your feet as you staggered to accommodate for his reflex. Only to push yourself further into his arms. You felt as if your luck couldn’t get any worse, face burning up once again as you almost butted Hendery’s head with your own. It was almost as if you were in some cliche skit where you had temporarily become a hapless staggering damsel for the day, and you weren’t going to have that for any longer.

You freed yourself from the sudden proximity with Hendery, refusing to make eye contact as you moved from staring at his exposed collarbone and instead the floor as you rooted yourself to it, folding your arms and huffing. 

He watched you attempt to reclaim your pride, exhaling in relief as you seemed to grow in confidence once again. He had to admit, he understood well that you’d had a bad day, but he couldn’t help but find it odd how flushed your soft cheeks were and how on edge you appeared.

Meanwhile, his face had been a picture, lips pursed into an ‘o’ of moderate horror as he’d almost knocked you to the ground, which then spread into a wide smile as he giggled sheepishly. His eyes were clear as glass, dark and glinting and rueful, as you finally worked up the courage to meet them again.

“Sorry Y/N!” he said, mischief lacing his words.

You scoffed, staring him down, though feeling more of a rush flood through your chest. “Y-yeah, you will be!”

He laughed at your response, quickly dropping the issue entirely. You were grateful for that, you didn’t want to admit that he’d spooked that much. “We need to choose a film, so… what one do you want to watch?”

“I don’t…” you shrugged, “I don’t really know.”

You were glad that you didn’t need to look at him now that he had shifted to your side. You could feel his stare on you however, and it made you want to shiver.

He nodded, interlinking his arm with yours. “Shall we go have a look, my lady?”

Before you could let any words slip through your lips in bemused amusement, he pulled himself closer to you, arm interlocking with yours, and then led you through to the corridor with the shelves stacked with movies.

Slipping through the archway, thanking any deities that were listening that there was no reason for Hendery to be able to hear the heightened tempo of your heart, you found Yangyang already there. He was squinting up at the top row as you reached the rack, fingers running across each box like a small child reading the letters of their first book.

Hendery extended his free arm towards the shelving, bowing his head, “Your moving pictures, my lady.”

You snorted, taking in the sight of the stockpile of films. He was always so extra. In fact, it made it hard for you to focus upon the selection, barely registering the fonts of the titles and colours of the boxes, as you were hit by a sudden spring of sentimentality. 

They’d been ordered alphabetically by title, and you remember the day starkly that you’d sat down with Xuxi to organise them. 

He wouldn’t have been your first choice to help order things, since his attention span normally lasted around that of a cocker spaniel with a new toy, but he’d been the only one in the house at the time, and he was the only one tall enough to reach the very top shelf regardless (you still didn’t understand why that top shelf had been installed and even being used, because if Xuxi wasn’t around—which did occur often due to his new schedules—then it was a real safety hazard to get a film down from there, seeing that no one else in the group managed to grow anywhere near 6″). 

On this occasion though, he’d been uncharacteristically focused, listening to your instructions carefully, his dazzling grin a sight to behold as he had cocked his head to one side whilst he thought—you could have seen the letters wafting across his thoughts as he counted them. He’d been very calm and rational, as if the bounce had been temporarily quelled, and he’d made jokes about how short everyone else was only a couple of times, too. 

In fact, he’d been a very big help, and the afternoon had also proved useful in the sense that you weren’t the only one with a better idea of where all the movies were. Even if they were organised well, the two of you could still find them faster than the others usually could, simply due to the fact you could remember where you’d placed them on the shelves in the first place. 

Kun had been extremely happy with the end result as well, which was always a bonus. Meanwhile Ten still didn’t believe you’d managed to get Xuxi to sit down and do it with you. You didn’t blame his disbelief. You could barely believe it yourself. But there he had been, clear as day, settling himself on the carpet without you even inclining to ask him to.

However, you did admonish the system you’d used now though. Perhaps taking the extra time to organise them into genres would have been better, as after all, you rarely knew a specific movie you wanted to watch.

You suddenly became very aware of Hendery’s presence. He’d inched forwards, his lips pursing out of the corner of your eye as he narrowed his sights on the possibilities for the night.

His movement had snapped you out of your thoughts, though it took a lot of effort to avoid getting caught upon the sight of his lips, beautifully curved and the perfect shade of rose—

You forced yourself to scour your eyes over the titles, eventually straightening to join Yangyang in peering up at the very top row, where the box-sets were kept.

“Whatcha looking at?” you asked Yangyang, a giggle thinly veiled. His thoughtful little frown was adorable, and it was clear he was thinking very hard about something.

“Did we watch the final part of The Lord of the Rings?” he answered.

You and Hendery both nodded. 

“Oh... well there goes that suggestion then.” He shifted down from tiptoe and came to lean against the table beside the shelving, sending you a sweet smile. “Y/N, what type of movie would you like?”

Eased, you sent him a quick smile before glancing down at the films at the lower rungs. “I’m not sure, really. Nothing too heavy, and nothing that will make me cry.”

He hummed. “So, a comedy then?”

Hendery’s eyes went wide, a look of genuine fear playing on his features. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Our senses of humour in this house, when it comes to films can…” he paused, silk voice tentative, “…vary, a lot.”

You nodded in agreement. “Remember what happened over that Robin Hood film?” You shook your head very firmly. “Bad times, my dudes.” 

Yangyang cocked his head to one side in thought, frowning at seemingly nothing. “Fair enough…” Suddenly, he perked up, showing a grin you knew well. “I’ve had an idea. What if we watch a really bad movie, one that’s so bad, it’s actually kind of good?”

You clicked your fingers, before shooting him finger-guns, “Now that is a good idea!”

The three of you turned towards the mountain of films. It wasn’t long before your attention was drawn from them once again, as Hendery gently lent upon your shoulder, letting his fingers just brush the jumper at your shoulder. Once again you were convinced he wasn’t perhaps focused on the films.

“Ok… bad… films…” Yangyang murmured, pulling out a blue box to read its description on the back. You didn’t even gather what he’d picked out, as your eyes had been drawn back to Hendery’s as if magnetised. 

As it turned out, he was a lot closer than you had previously thought. This time, it was his eyes that formulated the centre of gravity, and you immediately found yourself held in them, glistening mahogany so dark the tints stowed away in the shadows of the curtains of his fringe.

You sent him a smile, awkward and most likely faltering out of no reason other than mild shock at just how well poised his features could be, enquiring with a stutter, “Do you have any ideas?”

He smushed his lips together, as he usually did when he was thinking, something of which that always made your heart simper, and let his eyes wander away from you and up to the penultimate top shelf. 

“’Azure Shadow’?” he said, reaching up and grabbing the box, his arm shifting lending his hand to consequently rest around the curve of your shoulder, fingers grasping ever so tenderly as if you were an artifact he wasn’t supposed to touch. You couldn’t help but freeze up at it, all while he didn’t even seem to notice, his voice as clear as a cloudless, spring day sky. “I heard it was pretty bad—hey The CP Times gave it 4 stars!”

Yangyang pointed victoriously, as he quickly realised a point he’d made long ago was now finally proven. “See! I told you guys you should never trust the CP Times!”

You were grateful for his interruption, as it drew potential attention away from you, stuck in your emotionally stumbling mess. You felt his grip tighten lightly, fingertips rubbing ever so slightly against your shoulder blade as laughter seeped into Hendery’s voice. “What? What problem do you have with the CP Times? I…?”

“Oh come off it, Hendery, you know! That awful article they posted about—!”

“Oh…! I see where your allegiances lie, Yangyang the Traitor!”

“I—what does that mean?!”

“They published a lovely one about my favourite—”

The hand finally left you, your shoulder falling into the grips of a surprising cold, but your mind began to pull itself finally out of its trance. 

“And? They were horrible to mine!”

“They didn’t mention her though!”

To be frank, you had no clue what their little squabble was about, and it didn’t help that they kept interrupting one another. You shivered as you regained your sensibility, tiptoeing forward to urge yourself to enter the fray.

“Exactly!”

“She was on hiatus at the time!” Hendery countered, eyes bright in contrast to Yangyang’s wilder ones. “You’re just too in love with her, that’s what.”

Yangyang had no words for that. His mouth hung open like a guppy fish, as he scrambled for something to retort back. But he was panicked, and it showed on his face, as colour seemed to simultaneously drain from it but also rush to his cheeks. 

“I am not in love with her?!” Yangyang was scowling, his voice jagged and incredulous and harsh. You winced at the unexpected sound, leading his eyes to quickly flicker to you. Any strength that had once been in them vanished before your own, as all fighting energy left his body limper. His voice was much quieter as he echoed himself, glancing away from you and staring at the floor instead,  “I am not in love with her…” 

All the while Hendery just laughed it off, as if everything that had just happened had been a ruse to rile the youngest up all along. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I got you.”

You decided it would be wise to intervene before their bickering ended in a tussle again.  

“Well… maybe this film isn’t bad enough,” you remarked, earning a nod from Hendery and leading him to put it back on the shelf.

Yangyang remained silent for a while, even as Hendery suggested some other movies. His gaze was uncharacteristically vacant, while his presence had grown rather small.

You wanted to go over to him, to make sure he was ok, but there were many contradicting messages going on in the room, and you couldn’t really tell if it was that serious or not. One was behaving as if it was, the other as if it was not. Besides, Yangyang was neither super cuddly nor super solitary, so it was more of a case by case thing as to whether he wanted attention to help him calm down and cheer up or not.

“What about ‘The Man of Blade’?” he measured suddenly out of the blue, scoffing weakly as he retrieved it, “this one doesn’t even show its ratings, it must be awful!”

You skipped over to him, now given an inclination that he wanted to socialise. You really didn’t want to leave him, even if you didn’t know what the hell had just happened. And so you took hearing him talk as an invitation for you.

Placing your hand on his shoulder, you ducked your head in carefully. You wanted to see the description, but you also wanted to offer him some comfort, thus your cheek just barely brushed the cloth of his hoodie.

You had expected Yangyang to read it out, but feeling him shift his weight, perhaps just to accommodate for you, but you expected it was more out of sudden nerves, so you decided to take the role up instead.

As you cleared your throat in order to begin reading it dramatically to keep Hendery on side, Yangyang turned the box at an angle so you could read it better. You snuck a glimpse at him, to find a smile already filtering back onto his face. The signs of there being no lasting impact boosted your confidence as you found courage in reaching success.

“’A man makes a wish to a genie’,” you began, the corners of your mouth twitching already as you attempted to keep your tone serious, “‘to become the most powerful man to ever live so he could face God in a one-to-one’ battle to the death—”

“I’m sorry what?” Yangyang was back in business, ripples of his laughter seeping through his chest to where you could feel it, lending you further chance to rest your head fully against his shoulder. 

All the while Hendery merely laughed.

You tried to hold it together. “—a-and restore not only his pride but his… his…”

“Oh no, what?” 

Laughter bubbled in your throat as you forced the final sentence from your lips. “His valiant steed’s honour—yo, what the actual—?!”

Yangyang cackled as he began hastily opening the box. “It’s decided! We’re watching ‘The Man of Blade’! And we can all suffer together!”

Hendery snickered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but why the hell is that even here?! Who bought it?”

“It must be a present?” you insisted. “Surely! No one in this house would buy this in their right mind otherwise—”

“I bought it.”

Three heads simultaneously whipped in the direction of the living room. 

There, standing in the archway, was Sicheng.

A moment of silence passed as the three of you stared at him, mouths agape and words lost, until you exclaimed, in more fear than you had perhaps originally anticipated, “Chengie, no!”

“Look,” he projected, before the other two could add to the confusion, “it was supposed to be dumb gift for Ten, something that I could hide his actual present behind, and so I decided to hide it plain sight until his birthday.”

A chorus arose. “Ohhh.”

“But, does that mean we can’t use it then?” Hendery questioned. 

“Oh, yeah, damn,” Yangyang said, closing the box, “it’s ok Sicheng, we’ll put it back.”

“Actually,” you began, eyes flickering from each man, and finally resting on the box, “Ten isn’t here, so as long as no one tells…”

“We can still watch it!” Hendery finished, clapping his hands and motioning for the box. “Let’s start it up, I want to see the menu page!”

As the two fought over who got to put the disc in the player, their squabbling much more harmless this time, you made a mental note to ask someone about the debacle later, turning your attention currently to Sicheng instead.

His eyes, dark caramel and hidden from the light, were down-turned and avoiding your gaze. They seemed to graze across your cheeks instead, flickering up to your own only occasionally.

You offered him a smile, small and soft, and then walked over to him. “Hey, thanks for the film! It sounds perfect for tonight.”

“It’s no problem, I’m curious to watch it too,” he grinned back, before easing you out of the way of the two bundles of energy that bounded through into the living room, “I really hope it’s as bad as it sounds.”

“Oh it’s got to be!” you assured, feeling warmth settle back into your system, slowly, but surely, as you laughed. Relief felt good after all. “Come on, Chengie, help me get some snacks?”

“Of course.” He stepped backwards, letting you past to lead the way. 

Back in the kitchen, you began to scavenge for all the food you could find, layering Sicheng’s arms with bags upon bags of snacks. You weren’t exactly paying attention to the number you’d piled, however, until you swung all the cupboards closed and aimed to place a final packet on top, only to find that you’d crafted a tiny mountain, and Sicheng’s face was practically completely obscured by its silhouette.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Chengie, I didn’t notice how much…”

“It’s alright,” he answered brightly, peeking carefully round the precarious pile, “I got it!”

His smile was glimmeringly bright, and you couldn’t help but be stunned by it, since a bright smile like that wasn’t exactly common for him, even in the dorms. He stepped forward carefully to request the final snack be crowned upon the summit above his eyeline, and with caution, you obliged, balancing it on top as best you could.

“Now all we have to do is get you into the living room without dropping them—are you sure you don’t want me to take half? It’s not hard at all for me to do so…!”

He turned so he could see you. “It’s ok, you’re already doing too much by organising this. I can carry a pile of snacks, don't worry! Just… warn me if I get too close to an obstacle.”

You nodded, peering over his shoulder to see his way. “I can try and do that. I can promise I can help you avoid a chair, but I must warn you Sicheng, I can’t guarantee I can help you avoid other ones such as Hendery and Yangyang.”

You heard a laugh from behind the snack pillar, and felt your heart leap with pride as a response. It wasn’t that Sicheng was boring—no, far from it—it was just he wasn’t on the verge of being a giggling mess all the time like the others were. You’d guessed it came with maturity. Then you remembered how much of a dork some of the older members could be in general, and then admitted to yourself that you had to more or less discount that theory. 

“Moving obstacles are always the worst,” he agreed, shifting his hands slowly to keep a firmer grasp on the mountain as he turned to make his way back into the living room. “But I appreciate your effort nonetheless. You ready?”

You hummed in affirmation, and the two of you began your careful trundle into the living room.

.

.

.

With snacks arranged on the coffee table, you slumped on the sofa, taking care to mind your feet as you went—you didn’t want to knock all your hard work on the carpet, as then you would have to vacuum it all up and unless you had someone to make the pain more bearable, it wasn’t fun in the slightest. 

You watched as Hendery emerged victorious over the disc and scampered over to the TV, fiddling with the DVD player.

Yangyang, pouting from the sidelines, perked up once he realised that he now had a crucial advantage. 

He bounded over to you, barely choosing a side and instead practically flung himself onto the sofa too. He threw his arms open to encase you as he went, and once his back hit the cushions, he pulled you into him. 

Shrieking in surprise and glee, you shuffled yourself round so you could rest your head more comfortably on his chest. 

“There,” he murmured proudly, a hand coming to pat your hair softly, “comfy?”

“Very.” Your voice was muffled against his hoodie. 

Hendery glanced back over his shoulder at the sight, and hurried himself. You couldn’t see, and even if you could have, you wouldn’t have been able to notice the brief pang that hit Hendery’s heart at the sight of you snuggled closely into his warmth.

You would have been able to witness Yangyang’s smirk that he sent him as he began to make his way over.

All of this knowledge of course was obsolete to you, as you could see nothing at all, enveloped in warmth and seeing nothing but darkness with your eyes closed, your ear pressed against Yangyang’s heart.

Its beat was wild.

Sicheng meanwhile took a seat where he had been previously, spinning the chair around so he would be able to see the screen.

You heard it creak and peaked out from beneath Yangyang’s arms to catch a glimpse of him.

“Hey,” you called softly, causing him to swivel a bit further round to see you, “you sure you don’t want to come sit over here? It’s comfier than that desk chair.”

“But it is a spinny ch—” You hushed Yangyang before he could finish. 

Sicheng smiled, the dim in his eyes growing as he shook his head. “No, it’s ok, I’m good here.”

“You sure?” You couldn’t deny it to yourself: you really did want him to sit over there with you. You didn’t know why, or what you wanted to do with him had he come over when you beckoned, because he wouldn’t have been comfortably with you draped over him in any shape or form, which you respected, but you also wanted to touch him in some way. You hated seeing that grey hue in his eyes that forced him to turn them away from you, you reasoned.

There was probably something more to it all too, but as per usual, your ramblings were interrupted by his response.

It was a nod, and the very gradual spin of his chair as he pushed himself back to face the TV subtly.

You tried not to take it personally, but you couldn’t hide the falter in your smile. It was hard to get all your feelings together sometimes after all.

Yangyang couldn’t quite see it at his angle, but Hendery could, and it led to him pouting at you as he waddled over.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want the others to hear. You were thankful for that, if it was the case, as it wasn't that big of an issue, and you didn’t want to worry anyone else.

“I’m ok, don’t worry!” you declared. “Just tired, is all.” 

Your response had been too fast, and it was just your luck that of course both Hendery and now Yangyang had noticed. You cursed your accidental volume, sending them both an eye roll as you played it down. 

“It’s been a real long day, but you guys worry too much,” you jested, poking the arm beside your head. 

You received a little huff from above you in a wordless reply, whilst Hendery quickly settled down beside you, inclining into your sloped body as he held your hand tightly, fingers laced with your own. They were a little clammy but then again so were yours, and you never cared.

‘Attention whore,’ you thought to yourself, a chuckle seeping into reality. Yangyang frowned at the random burst of humour, since no one had done anything as you did. He wondered what was going in your head. It was a merciless thing to chase, since no one would know, and he’d never really understand—that’s kind of how brains worked after all—but he loved hearing what you had to say about everything. He shifted his weight to bring you just a little bit closer, as if it would make a difference, let him understand why you were laughing.

He didn’t have long to consider much at all, with the film menu loading up and sending everyone in the room into a bout of horrified laughter.

“What even is that?!” Yangyang yelled above you.

“That, dear Yangyang, is an actual, colourised depiction of hell,” you countered, lips twisted in terror as you sat up instinctively. Yangyang too was tense—it was as if the atrocity had immediately set off fight-or-flight responses of every single person in the room. 

Hendery flicked his head over to you. “In the shape of a horse?!” 

“It’s never going to leave my head,” Sicheng murmured. “There it is. Emblazoned into the insides of my skull. Behind my eyes. I’ll never escape it. Set me free from this torment—”

“What’s going on?”

Xiaojun had come through from the kitchen, drying his hands on a tea towel and striding through into the living room as if he’d been summoned. 

Everyone silently and simultaneously pointed at the TV, depicting the single-shot menu screen of an abominable CGI horse crowding the entire screen.

“I don’t—mother of sweet jesus—” 

“I know right?” Yangyang exclaimed. “It’s horrifying. I hate it!”

“It’s actually cursed,” Xiaojun stated, unable to draw his eyes away from the savagery of art he’d been presented with. His mouth was agape as he leant on his hands, placed on the back of the sofa. “Obscene!”

Winwin’s voice was still low, but you could just about hear it over the whoops and cries of the others; “My sleep paralysis demon.”

“Is this what we’re watching?” Xiaojun asked, deep eyes wide and begging for the answer to be any cognate of ‘no’.

“Yep.”

He turned to look down to you, his expression torn in misery. “This crime to humanity?”

“One hundred percent.”

Xiaojun stared at the screen, eyes alight with the tacky flames of the anathema displayed before him. Eventually he snapped out of his cursed gaze and headed back into the kitchen. “Dear lord—don’t start without me!”

As the laughter died down, you settled back into Yangyang’s embrace, ushering Hendery to come closer too so you could have him near too.

He looked over to you, feeling the tug on his hand. With only a momentary pause to check if you were sure, he flopped down onto your stomach, exhaling happily with an arm stretched.

“You feel happier now, right Y/N?” Yangyang suddenly asked, voice low, and just below a whisper. 

You were surprised, but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better than I did before. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” He cleared his throat, shifting his balance to support the extra wait Hendery brought to the table. “You’re certain we don’t need to enact special measures?”

You frowned, tilting your head up to come to look at his jaw, as he quickly looked back up to somewhere else in the room—or at least, anywhere besides the TV, for clearly very rational reasons. Bemusedly, you asked about his supposed ‘special measures’, but won little response. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, before he glanced down at you, eyes flickering across each paradigm of your face with his lips pressed plush as he thought. 

He parted them eventually, ebbing with air and possible words, until you felt the rise of his chest as he inhaled and readied himself to speak.

Only then did Xiaojun enter the room and take the final spot at the end of the sofa, patting Hendery’s legs to get them to move. 

“Ok, I’m back, we can start now!” he announced.

The ball of conversation was knocked from its ledge and rolled in a different direction to what you’d hoped. 

“Who has the remotes?” Hendery piped up, feet repositioned but this time on top of Xiaojun’s legs. The elder of the two wasn't impressed by it all though, and instead shoved them off by flicking his toes. 

“I do,” Sicheng replied, already frowning at the buttons. “Can someone get the lights?”

“Sure.”

Yangyang stretched up behind him, hand awkwardly sliding up the wall as he sought for the switch. Eventually his fingers struck gold, and the room snapped dark.

And then the menu finally disappeared as the horror of a film began. 

.

.

.

And by no surprises, it was utter garbage. 

But it lived up to expectations in that sense, and it was thus absolutely hilarious.

You’d spent the first hour shrieking with laughter, and then you proceeded to tear each scene and every piece of dialogue apart as a five-piece.

The entire film was in itself a curse, a sin, blasphemous.

Hendery was slapping criticism on the plot left, right and centre to the point it made you wonder why he was here at all and not a movie critic. Meanwhile, Xiaojun just snorted at everything he said.

The two had come to an unspoken truce, after squabbling over where Hendery could put his feet. They were now situated on Xiaojun’s thighs, and swinging every now and again, especially when the owner got particularly pent up and passionate about a piece of dialogue or plot hole. 

You felt your heart burn at how adorable it was, though also suffered the pain of the jerks that Hendery made every time he had the sole of his feet poked or tickled, which Xiaojun seemed to enjoy doing too much.

You stroked Hendery’s hair gently, lightly pressing his fringe out of his eyes where his head rested on your stomach, whilst you peered around to Sicheng to check if he was alright, having not heard a peep from him in half an hour or so.

What you found was borderline horrifying. He was completely engrossed in the movie, with a  grin plastered on his face as the lights of the terrible CGI glowed in his irises and fashioned him into a cult leader in a fantasy movie, watching something demonic burn.

You hushed a chuckle behind your hand, as you leant back to turn your attention to Yangyang. 

He’d been the forerunner of the jokes, cackling at every little thing and turning it into pure comedy gold for the rest of the people in the room, which you were very grateful for. The movie would have been brain-soup without him.

He’d re-positioned himself slightly so you were higher up on his body, head much closer to be of an equal height to his. This way you could press your temple against his cheek, if you wanted. 

However, it was him that had his head nuzzled against you, his cheek resting in your hair. 

He eventually quietened down as he grew more drowsy, instead taking in the scent of you, sweet and calming. It only lulled him into more peace. 

With you in his arms he felt complete, in a way. As if he had a duty of sorts and when you were there he was completing it. Not that he’d ever tell you as such.

But he wasn’t sure what this meant to him, and he didn’t want to think about it too much.

A part of him deep down knew that it would cause some pain, somewhere along the line. And so he didn’t spare those thoughts the chance. 

However, he couldn’t still the beating of his heart whenever you moved against him, whenever you looked at him and smiled.

As the credits rolled, there were several sighs of relief, but otherwise it was complete utter silence as the room tried to comprehend what abomination you’d just witnessed.

You glanced over at everyone to see if they were just as confused as you were. Seeing you were in firm company in your bemusement, you announced, “The Oscars are clearly rigged for this not to win.”

Yangyang snorted. “Of course!”

“Best film ever! Y/N couldn’t make a better one even if she tried.”

Xiaojun flicked Hendery’s toe for that one.

“Oh of course, honey.” You leant over slightly, arms gently squeezing the boy in your lap, giving him a squeeze. “And you couldn’t make a worse one.”

Hendery seemed to take it as more of a compliment as he grinned, nose scrunching as he headbutted you softly.

You tickled his sides briefly, seeking joy in the squeal that it earnt you, and let Xiaojun take the fall as he got kicked in the arm. You sent him an apologetic pout, not that you deep down meant it wholeheartedly. 

“Ow! Y/N!” he exaggerated, “And to think I defended you!”

“Karma,” you responded simply, much to his chagrin.

“For what?!”

“For all the headbutts I got in the stomach?” you asserted

Xiaojun shrugged, admitting his faults and hence, defeat. “Yeah, that’s fair—” 

It was Sicheng that interrupted. “Oh.”

His voice was disappointed, and where his melancholy suddenly procured from confused you, since you couldn’t see any possible origin anywhere. Had someone done something? Said something to dismiss him? More likely ignored him. You hoped for the others’ sake they hadn’t. He’d been so sunny during the movie. 

You looked over to him, trying to veil your concern in its entirety, but still show care. “Chengie?”

“The time,” he said, holding up his phone.

It was nearly midnight. 

“How long was the movie?” Yangyang exclaimed.

Sicheng answered, “Longer than you’d expect.”

“Well over two hours?” Xiaojun suggested. “But that time included the credits.”

“Haven’t you guys got to be up like, stupid-early tomorrow?” you asked, voice timid, fearing the ‘yes’ that you knew would follow.

A moan of irritation ricocheted across the room. 

Xiaojun confirmed it for you. “Yeah, we do.”

“I don’t want to go…” Yangyang whined.

“I’m sorry but you gotta,” you encouraged sadly, “you need sleep.”

“And so do you,” Hendery added, kicking his legs off the sofa and stretching as he stood. 

It was your day off tomorrow, though you couldn’t deny you were pretty tired. You decided not to protest. “I guess so.”

“Yeah, come on, otherwise Kun will be mad at us,” Xiaojun chuckled, “not sending you to bed at a responsible time, you know.”

You snickered, slowly shifting yourself out of Yangyang’s arms. 

His hands seemed resistant to the idea, catching on your shirt as you moved away.

Eventually though, he was freed from any of the ‘constraints’ he had—and thus all of his possible excuses as to why he wouldn’t head upstairs too—and was ordered by you to head to his room. “Come on, Yangyang. You gotta go.”

He pouted at you, in a last bid attempt to get you to have mercy and stay just a bit longer.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but I can withstand even the strongest Xuxi pout,” you explained. From behind you heard someone, the identity of which you could not tell, whisper that that was a lie, but you ignored it and continued, “I’m sorry, but you’ve still got some training to do before you can win me over like that,” 

“Yeah, ok, I’m going,” Yangyang reluctantly nodded his head, mumbling,  “Worth a try…”

Hendery followed second, waving to you as he went with that Prince Charming smile almost knocking you off-guard again. It hadn’t, but of course something else was going to succeed in its stead. That ‘something’ took the form of Xiaojun, bidding you goodnight with a chaste kiss on your cheek. You were startled to say the least, it had been so brief, but felt like it had also lasted for minutes. His lips were warm, soft, but you hadn't been able to hold onto much tangibility to them, as no sooner had they met your skin, they were whisked away again. Like the touch of a spirit, afraid of the rapidly rising sun. It seemed no one else noticed due to the darkness of the living room and the fact that most of them were already halfway up the stairs or gone.

You remained in the living room a bit after they went, pretending that you needed to stretch on the sofa for a bit before getting up. It was a lie, though, and you knew that well, and you felt your fingers tracing over the curves of the invisible imprint he’d left there.

“You need to head up too.”

Sicheng’s voice was light and airy, like the shadows had engulfed it. You barely heard him, but he made you jump nonetheless. With one hand at your kiss-embroidered cheek, you threw one down to your chest where you wished the weight of your hand would somehow slow the sudden spike in your heart rate.

“I know,” you assured just as quietly, “I’m just… taking my time.”

You could just about trace the lines of his smile in the dim light after he turned the TV off. His presence was faint, but what you could feel was warm and gentle.

He whispered something that this time you didn’t catch. But you felt the tethered urge to know what it was.

“Sicheng?”

“Don’t worry.”

You swallowed, knowing that you weren’t going to get it out of him, much to your disappointment. He had just said what sounded like a collection of random syllables, but together they had carried something heavy, something with depth, something that had been patient for quite a time.

He sighed, getting to his feet. You heard the crinkling of wrappers and the clatter of bowls as he began to tidy up. 

“Here, I’ll help,” you began.

But as you sat up, you felt a hand press firmly against your shoulder.

“There’s no need, it’s ok.”

You frowned into the dark. He wasn’t looking at you, which was why his voice sounded distant. You could make out his silhouette, broad and proportioned as if he was drawn. He was like an artist's unknown creation, stood in the background of their studio, overlooked by many but appreciated much more than any by the few that knew him.

You worked up the courage to enquire about the occurrences earlier. “Why wouldn’t you come over and sit with us? Like, during the movie or before.” Feeling intrusive, you hurriedly added: “I mean, I don’t mind of course, just… you know?”

That caused him to look at you, dead in the eye, but he remained silent for the longest time. 

You reasoned that maybe this was why he never made eye contact with you. Because when he did, it was like he was peering much deeper than just your eyes. His stare was the definition of eyes being the gateways to the soul. You briefly considered if this one worked both ways when he finally replied, eyes dipping away once again.

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” he cleared his throat, scooping up an unopened snack bag under an arm, “besides, you were already quite busy with the others, so… I didn’t want to overwhelm you with anything more.”

Your features softened at his words, a pang in your heart. “I appreciate that, Chengie. But please remember that you won’t overwhelm me or get in my way. I like hanging out with you just as much as the others.”

You could make out the smile on his face, small and sweet, before he ushered himself away towards the kitchen. “You need to head to bed, Y/N, you need some sleep.”

He was right, but you were convinced you weren’t going to leave until you got one thing. If you'd calculated everything right, he wouldn’t have a problem. In fact, it may just be what he specifically wanted.

You headed to the entrance into the kitchen and waited for Sicheng to come back. Upon his return, he almost bumped into you, but caught himself just in time.

Your eyes met in the darkness, lit by the streetlamp from outside the window far behind you. His hair glimmered with the golden haze, crowning him surreptitiously, as he wordlessly questioned why you were there.

“I know, I’m heading up I promise,” you answered for him. “But… I just... can I have a hug first? Please?”

With his lips pressed into a small ‘o’, he looked shocked by your request to say the least. You worried for a moment that you’d misjudged, and was asking for too much of him.

Before you could backtrack and hurriedly explain that it didn’t matter if he said no, you’d be fine and wouldn’t think any different of him, that delicately crafted yet stoic face melted right before your eyes into the softest smile you could have imagined. “Of course.”

The silhouettes of his hands rose in the dark, barely touching your body as he brushed them along the slopes of your shoulders. He was gentle, but they moved with a certain affirmity, as if they took a mind of their own, following an old familiar road throughout their long-left hometown.

You found your own fingers gracing his collarbones, before shifting up, your arms coming flush against his bare, smooth neck, and finally interlocking gradually behind him. Sicheng meanwhile rounded the curves of your upper arms, eventually spiralling around to make the jump to your waist, where they wasted no time in nestling into the nook of your lower back.

He held you delicately, but firmly against him. It was reassuring, despite the lack of time you spent there pressed into his warmth, as you felt your breath slow, and your eyes close.

He felt so… tender? Vulnerable? It felt like he really meant whatever he was trying to convey through his actions. You just felt at such a loss because you couldn’t figure out what it was.

As his head came to a gentle rest against yours, his hands secure at the small of your back tightening as if instinctively, it occurred to you awfully suddenly. 

It was if he was hugging you like he was never going to get the chance to do so again.

.

.

.

Once you’d reached your room, you’d breathed a sigh heavy with a boiling froth of emotions.

In a cruel sense of irony, chasing after comfort had only succeeded for so long, as you were drawn back into the realms of stress once again.

It was of course something you could handle, you imagined at least—you’d gotten through the day of hell, you imagined you could handle a cornucopia of thoughts. Though you had to admit to yourself that there was a lot of string to unravel. 

You couldn’t help but remember the thrum of your heart as Sicheng had placed his thumb against the cusp of your jaw while he gradually pulled himself away, encouraging you to go to bed. His palm had barely touched your neck, the contact was so brief it felt like the breath of a ghost, but you had found yourself barely able to use your lungs regardless.

For a brief moment there had been a light in his eyes, that despite the dark shone so brightly. And then he’d pulled himself away, and that grey from prior had returned, like clouds pushed by a November gale.

What did it mean?

Oh please. You knew, didn’t you? Deep down the understanding was there, not that you could perhaps believe it.

What you were rather dealing with was the question of what it meant to you.

You decided to watch Youtube for a while to calm yourself down a bit after… whatever had just happened, and consequently ended up staying up long enough for the others to return.

The sound of the door opening and the joyous cacophony of Xuxi’s laughter—instantly answered with incessant hushing from not just Ten but also synonymously Kun—reminded you of one of the no doubt many reasons why you were unable to settle.

Kun had promised to return quickly, but he had been gone all night.

You wanted to ask about it, desperately. However, this coincided with the fact it was very late indeed. And how comfortable you were in bed. But it was also going to drive you crazy all night if you didn’t find out why. Kun was a man of his word. He would never just… break a promise like that. Would he?

After a few minutes, once Ten and Xuxi had retired to their rooms, your disgruntled prayers were answered as Kun knocked on your door, face peaking through the gap.

You stared up at him, eyes big and expectant with your lips pursed. He had explaining to do after all. It appeared he was aware of this fact too, with guilt written over his face.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry,” he began, “can I come in?”

You pretended to think about it for a few moments, even though you both knew the answer. He waited though, and it was only when you gave him a ‘yes’ did he come inside.

He sidled over to your bed, eyes sweeping the shapes formed by your bed covers, to make sure that when he eventually perched on the side, he didn’t accidentally sit on your feet interlocked beneath the blankets.

“I’m sorry, I promised I would come back but the other two swore it wouldn’t be long, and it would be more rational to stay,” he explained, “but then it took longer than they thought, but I couldn’t risk coming home only to then head out again and… I don’t know why I listened to Xuxi about it to be honest, it’s not an overly rational thing to do.”

“Did he pout at you?”

“No! I am above falling to such… charms…”

“Sure you are.” You arched an eyebrow. “Did Ten tell you to stay?”

He nodded, his eyes surprisingly big. He wasn’t really one to pull the ‘kicked-puppy’ image to try and gain mercy, but here he was.

“Well, I’ll let you off then,” you let the faux scowl fall from your face and giggled instead, “we know how persuasive he can be.”

Kun paused, eyes flitting to yours. “So you’re not mad?”

You scoffed. “Kun, I wasn’t even that mad to begin with, I promise! I can’t be mad at you for long anyhow. You’re just too—”

You’d let your mouth talk without your brain, and it suddenly occurred to you what you were saying. As your voice faltered, you weren’t sure what was supposed to follow. 

Kind? Sweet? Cute? Handsome? 

Kun was waiting for you to finish, and unfortunately, you panicked a bit.

“Kun.”

He frowned bemusedly. “I’m too ‘Kun’?”

You nodded awkwardly, while you interrogated your own intelligence in your head. “…To be mad at for long, yes.” 

He cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowed towards but not quite at your bedside table. “Well, I mean, I prefer that to you being mad at me.” He exhaled, clearly relieved, looking straight at you instead. “Did you enjoy the film?”

“Oh it was awful!” you exclaimed. As you saw his eyes widen again, you laughed. “We enjoyed it so much.”

He was clearly very confused, and his lips wavered as he didn’t know how to respond. 

You took some delight in his confusion, you couldn’t deny. “Well,” you propositioned coyly, “you’d understand if you’d been there.”

“I’m sorry!” he reiterated, eyes wide and searching yours for any sign of relent.

Normally, you would have perhaps kept up the teasing for a little while longer. However, sleep was lodged beneath your eyes, encouraging them to close. 

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now,” you laughed, though you felt a little bit guilty and sighed, sending him a small sweet smile. It still, however, occurred to you that he still owed you. “But… there would be something that would make it all up to me—”

To your surprise, Kun interrupted you, already one step ahead, “I know. Here.”

He shuffled along the bed so he was much closer to your body, arms held out for you. And you didn’t hesitate, much to his gratitude, levering yourself up with a temporary, newfound energy and straight into his embrace.

His warmth enveloped you, strong hands holding your upper back firmly, gently pulling you even closer. He didn’t even hesitate, nestling his nose into your neck, much similar to how you’d buried yourself into him.

Tender and tranquil, Kun seeped solace no matter the mood of the room. Some would perhaps identify this as a negative, but they would be wrong—very much so. He was needed to balance everyone else’s volume, brashness, fire. And you probably had very much needed him all day. Things could not be changed however, and the world kept turning even if you had previously wished it to. You wished for it to stop turning this time too, although for different reasons. 

His fingers drew art upon your back, much to your soothed delight. It wasn’t something he did super often, but it was a characteristic of his: whenever someone needed comforting, he caressed characters into their back. They were often straight lines, as you’d found over the time you’d spent living with them, decorated with divots and curves.

His head tipped into yours, his voice a deep murmur, “I’ve been waiting hours to do this.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t even help it, though you shook it off as best you could. You’d been all over the place that day, emotionally, so of course you were going to be reacting all fuzzily over general acts of kindness. Well, that’s what you told yourself. Besides, he was just stating facts.

However, you were distracted by a small epiphany that hit you somewhat out of the blue. The calligraphy he traced between your shoulder blades felt so foreign to you, and it took no shape you recognised. This wasn’t something new to you, admittedly. You’d felt these moments of tenderness before. And since you could assemble no familiarity, you normally led yourself to just move on. But with silence in the room, the pure stillness that so rarely occurred, you were able to pay a fresh attention to the patterns, to the weight of his hands. It occurred to you that his ministrations were not random. In fact, his fingers drew the same code into your shirt, over and over. It was a long line, three consecutive dots, another line—was it lipped?—horizontal, then swooping, then flat, finalised by two curves. And subsequently, it repeated. 

You had barely an idea of what it was, but whether your scrap of a theory was right or not didn’t matter to you, as you were curious and were going to ask him nonetheless. He still owed you, you rationalised

“Me too,” you finally answered, frowned absentmindedly into his shoulder as you asked, “Kun, are you drawing something?”

“Hm?” He paused, confused by your words out of context.

“Into my back.” You shifted your face further into his hoodie, as if to hide yourself. Though it would be from him, which was slightly counter-productive. “You often draw as you hold me.”

“Do I?” Quickly though, his tact moved away from feigning ignorance, as he sighed, “Oh, that. I’m not really drawing, it’s more writing, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I-I do it to the others too…! Whenever they really need it. Though I’ll admit that’s not often,” he explained, his fingers halting as he spoke, “It sounds odd but… well actually quite silly actually…” he laughed breathily, awkwardness seeping into the corners of his eyes as he peered down at you. It was rare for Kun to get this anxious. “I write Mandarin kind of… without realising it,” he finished, “it helps the others and gives them some familiarity I guess? I figured subconsciously, I suppose, that it would help you a bit too? I don’t know really.”

He seemed pretty worried about what you thought—groundless, as you found his habit extremely endearing, actually, to the point you felt your heart swell. “Kun, that’s so sweet! Is it always the same thing for everyone?”

“No,” he answered after a moment’s thought, “I think I kind of write a specific one for each, but I can’t be sure now I think about it. To be honest, I don’t really pay—”

Your curiosity was not sated, and unfortunately for Kun, you couldn’t stop your nosey self from asking the question that this prompted. “Really? What do you write for them?”

“Well, like I said I don’t really pay attention to what I’m doing,” he responded sheepishly, “but… Ten gets ‘strength’, I know that one for sure, because I feel that’s what he has more of than he realises. Sicheng would get ‘ān’—you know, calm, content—because he is, but I've never had the chance to, as you, well, you know why. Lucas is lucky, he gets two characters because he’s ‘puppy’—”

“Obviously.”

He continued with a laugh that reverberated through to your chest. “—A-and I couldn’t honestly tell you what the others get. One of them I gave ‘loud’ because I think that’s what he needs to work on but—”

“I thought Lucas was ‘puppy’?” you snickered.

“Yeah, well,” Kun trailed off, “maybe it was him… I don’t know, I can’t remember.”

You smiled, releasing one of your hands from behind him to nestle instead amongst his hoodie as it had grown cold. You took this moment to work up the courage to enquire about the part that you couldn’t deny your interest was invested in the most. “What… what about me?”

He pulled away from you gradually, his hands coming to rest upon your upper shoulders, so very close to the sensitive parts of your neck. He studied your face, his own twisting into an expression of concern. “You really need to sleep,” he said, “your eyes are constantly closing.”

You pursed your lips at him. What did he have to hide about it? Was it something rude? It better not have been. “Hey!”

He cocked his head to one side. “What? They are. And you’ve had a tough day, you really should get some sleep.”

It was evident that it wasn’t him deflecting or avoiding your question—tiredness had seeped so far into your body that your voice had been barely audible, especially muffled by his clothes.

Hence you acknowledged his remarks reluctantly with a lethargic nod, before shifting yourself out of his grip, billowing the blankets out so as to allow yourself to lie down beneath them. Kun had stood to allow you more space, thus letting you curl up to conserve warmth properly.

He gazed down at you with particularly softened features. It was only in the dim golden light that you noticed how rouge his lips were naturally tinted, and how they curved into a smile as they opened to speak. Or how soft his cheeks were, as a long, slender dimple appeared as he did.

“You got everything you need?” Voice as light as silk, he leant over to catch your eyes behind the bundled blanket. 

You affirmed with a simple nod, feeling your body give into the approaching heaviness. 

You were barely able to work up the effort to speak anymore. The tiredness swept over you suddenly, but you didn’t fight it. Your body was crying for sleep, and your mind very nearly relented. But there was one more thing you had to clear up in some capacity before he left.

“Wait, Kun.”

The man turned back swiftly from where he’d gotten, heading towards the door. “Yes, love?”

You hummed, working up the words. “Something happened while you were out.” Upon seeing his face turn stony in concern again you proceeded before he worried too much. “Nothing bad! Just… Hendery and Yangyang had a bit of a bicker earlier. Over a newspaper? The CP Times? I think? Hendery really seemed to have struck a nerve though.”

Kun nodded, eyebrows furrowing in familiarity. “What happened specifically?”

“Well,” you sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow, as if it would help you think any clearer in your dozy state, “I think it had posted something mean about someone. Or excluded them from something when Yangyang thought they should have been included?”

“Yeah, that’d be the one.” 

Confused, you frowned at him, silently requesting him to continue. 

Kun winced as he drew forward a bit, in fear that the person in question would overhear from down the hall, “The CP Times wrote an article about YFCN—you know, the girl group?”

“Ohhh…” you drawled, things clicking into place a bit more.

“Yeah, one of the members was on hiatus at the time because she was ill, if I remember correctly, but the journalist wrote as if everyone was present and basically ignored her existence entirely. Lili I think her name was?”

You hummed in confirmation, “Does he like Lili a lot?”

Kun waggled his head slightly. “I guess you could say he’s a fan. Why?”

You shrugged, sinking back down onto your pillow, your arm struggling to keep you upright for any longer. “Hendery teased him about liking her, and Yangyang just… got all red and exclaimed ‘I am not in love with her.’ It really did come out of nowhere—and he did back down into himself after. He was totally fine once it had passed, though.”

Glancing back over to Kun, you saw his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed in pained thought at instead your blankets. His energy seemed to drop and disperse, just as though he had something he needed to mull over. 

In fact he was suddenly thinking over what you’d told him very carefully. “Did he say it like you said it to me?”

Your eyes trailed away from him as you nodded, fiddling with the covers of your blankets. “Why, do you think he was lying?”

His head flicked up to you at hearing your interpretation. He couldn’t believe you had ignored the emphasis in Yangyang’s words; you were usually so in touch and intuitive with the group’s tones. He excused it though, and waved it off as nothing to further worry about—you’d had a long day, the intricacies of Yangyang’s secrets were not exactly your top priority that evening.

However, this did leave him with a dastardly tantalising opportunity. He could take control of part of the narrative. He could curb some of the risks, even manoeuvre himself into a better position. It disturbed him how big of a part of him actually wanted to seize the chance and bathe in the possible outcomes.

Luckily, his morality immediately crushed those considerations, coupled with a healthy dose of realism. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone, especially you. And that was not the sort of person he wanted to be. Ever. 

Meanwhile you had your own subtle pain to fret over. Its origins were difficult to distinguish, as they always appeared to be that day. If Yangyang had a crush on Lili then it made perfect sense. She was gorgeous and strong—you were familiar with her group’s music, and you could never say you didn’t approve of his choice. She was the lead rapper, and an absolute badass with her own neon-punk style that contrasted so drastically but also gelled so well with the others in her group. It was no surprise he liked her—hell, if you had to choose a bias yourself you would choose her—and so you shouldn’t have been surprised. And, in all degrees, you weren’t. 

No. Instead you were stuck with this uncomfortable pit in your stomach. A swollen stone that weighed just a bit too much for you to dismiss.

“I don’t know,” Kun finally finished, almost making you question yourself if he’d spoken without you even realising, caught up in your own head. He hadn’t, but it made you realise how correct he was in suggesting you go to sleep.

Watching your eyes anxiously wander about the room, he added hastily, “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. You know how weird those two are sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, and Kun found himself inclining towards you, just to catch a better glimpse of the beautiful sound; only for him to stop himself just before his movement became noticeable.

“Anyway,” he sheepishly started, never intending to ever finish.

You echoed him, before letting yourself take in his face one more time for the night. No matter where or what the lighting was, he was incredibly handsome. 

Settling into your pillow at last, your subconscious finally quelled itself, agreeing at last that it was maybe time to give into that small, tired voice that begged you for rest.

Kun was grateful you were calming down, and as soon as he spotted his relief he felt the fangs of guilt bit into his neck. He didn’t want to leave you in any distress, and so he wanted to stay with you for as long as possible. But he also had his own emotions that were now deciding to not remain in check. And he hated it, but he had to acknowledge that he inevitably needed to be left alone to have his epiphany, and motivate himself into a game plan.

He nodded absentmindedly, straightening up and heading for the lamp on your bedside table. As his fingers flipped the switch and the room was plunged into darkness save for the blade of silver from the hall, his brain stuttered.

He’d wanted to do something for a very long time, and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. In fact it would be a way to get ahead of everything, perhaps. And it wasn’t like there was no evidence for his wishes. You’d already been desperate for a hug from him and him specifically.

But it was if his words were stolen, his movements forced to a halt. 

Was it fair to do anything after all?

He wasn’t sure. 

And so the lights went out, and he felt his feet moving by themselves towards the doorway, arm outstretched instinctively towards the handle, but too early to catch it—away from where he truly wanted it. 

“Goodnight, Kun,” you called after him, watching his retreating silhouette carve a shadow in the light from the hall. He looked so tall and impending all the way over there. It was rare for him to be so tense—in fact, you couldn’t name a single instance where he was this pent up, and the other members could be a real hassle when they wanted to be.

As you began to worry in your sleep-deprived state for him, he reached the door and held it open. His head turned, and he stole a long, gradual glance into the darkness to take in a glimpse of your face. You already had your eyes half closed, cheeks sweet and squished against your pillow as you squinted over to him, waiting for his next move. You looked so adorable wrapped up and surrounded in warmth, and with your hair crowning you, gifting you a makeshift halo, your temple was left exposed and waiting.

But Kun, as he cursed himself numerous times in his head, was a coward.

“Goodnight, love.”

And with that he left the room, leaving the door ajar just how you liked it.

As he trundled to his room not far down the corridor, his knuckles reached up to his chin, and then his lips, where they rubbed uncomfortably hard. 

There would be another time. Surely? He prayed that there would be, and that it was him alone who got the opportunity. But he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. 

Hearing the click of a door from further down, he desperately slipped himself into his room, narrowly failing to avoid Ten’s omniscient eyes as he exited his bedroom.

He didn’t know where the younger was going, and he didn’t want to know, his brain was too preoccupied with other things.

Yet he knew that he knew too much. Ten knew everything. Kun didn’t have any proof, or know for sure, but he had a feeling that the guy thrived off knowledge, things he could perhaps perhaps spin.

No. That was too far. This was all just a strange bout of paranoia.

But he couldn’t deny his disbelief at how all the members never chose Ten as the member they were most afraid of on variety shows. Maybe it was the age dynamic. 

“And there’s no evidence to show that Ten would ever do anything low like that,” he murmured to himself as he closed his bedroom door, “pull yourself together, Kun.”

He let himself exhale all the air that had built up in his lungs.

The conversation overall for him had been around a solid 4 out of 10 in terms of success. Not ideal.

He guessed he had to count his blessings though, that you didn’t apprehend his deflection prior over the characters. The idiot he was. Tracing ‘love’ into your back without even realising.

He was entirely lovesick.

And now he knew he wasn’t the only one, too. Of course he wasn’t. Why he hadn’t realised it sooner was a real challenge to his personally-perceived trait of ‘aware’ that he often took pride in.

It was him, and Yangyang. But was it just those two? His thoughts flipped like a switch, as if the vintage slideshow in his head had changed and had confronted him with nothing more than the purely angelic moving picture of you. Giggling when he had bought you ice cream at the beach, eyes gazing wide up into the grey skies as you’d been caught in a downpour and huddled under his tiny umbrella, the peace upon your features that he had just witnessed. 

He had to come to the conclusion that it was most definitely not just him and Yangyang.

Xuxi? Of course. The kid couldn’t hide anything, and he had seen the way he stared at you 24/7. The optimist in him had just dismissed it because he didn’t want it to be true. There wasn’t a lot he had on the guy. It was purely down to your preference, as he lamented to himself, because there was no way he could compete with Xuxi’s face, his humour, his doting, puppy-love affection. 

The qualities Kun did have were somewhat echoed in Sicheng though, he decided. And was it him too? He was always willing to help you. And just because he kept to himself more… Kun resolved he couldn’t count him out.

And Xiaojun? God, he wasn’t sure, but would he explain to him what he named the hedgehog after? No.

The leader cursed under his breath. He was in trouble to say the least. 

Again, he questioned himself why he was so surprised. You’d been living with them for a while, for efficacy to begin with. And then you’d chosen to stay. It was practically inevitable that since he’d fallen so quick and hard that the others would obviously do so too.

He was left to establish Ten’s involvement, and the diagnostics were hardly in his favour there either.

As he contemplated everything, sitting on his bed with his phone discarded in his hands, the man in question meanwhile barely let himself look away from where the retreating shadow of his leader had stolen away to, so guilty-like. Ten’s gaze was only snatched away by the image of your passed-out face that he caught a peek of through the gap in the door. 

Your beauty glimmered in his mind, a fuzzy image hazed with holy pink. And then he was silently taking the stairs, his mind becoming stuck on the picture of Kun’s eyes that he’d briefly seen before his head ducked away, and now covered his thoughts of you. They were glazed over, his real priorities tucked elsewhere. And as he noted where he’d just come from, and the context for the entire day, it wasn’t difficult for Ten to connect the dots.

He knew.

~~~

AN: here it is. The final piece. look out for the coming Endings!

Also, all film names were randomly generated on a title generator. If they are actually the names of films then they weren’t intended to be.

Ending One - Kun Ending Two - Ten Ending Three - Sicheng Ending Four - Lucas Ending Five - Xiaojun Ending Six - Hendery  Ending Seven - Yangyang

Masterlist

[biderboy]

hard YES to a self indulgent James fic. Both for your gorgeous writing, but also for more material for me to use in my psychoanalysis of what the heckers is happening between you and him 😼 -☀️

BESTIE it’s written <3 AHAKSKS nothing is between me and him i hate him 😐

[sometimesrosy]

When we start writing novel or TV show, we start with our characters, how they start and how they end. That what make our story moves forword. In the 100, Bellamy complete his arc at the end of season5, what are he doing now? Helping clarke and Octavia to complete there's?!?!? I didn't understand Bellamy story s6

This is a good question. I have been thinking about this. Partly because I’ve been watching that hero’s journey for a while, waiting for Clarke and Bellamy to compete theirs. And it keeps, kinda, not being finished. 

Except now Bellamy finished his hero’s journey and Clarke... well... Clarke has been a struggle to understand because it seems like she almost gets there and then there’s more. That’s when one of my followers asked if I thought Clarke was, instead, on a HEROINE’S journey. And tbh, even though my college was super feminist, I never encountered the heroine’s journey while I was studying English. I think because it was right around the time the heroine’s journey was introduced and I just didn’t catch up to it. So while I’ve been working with the hero’s journey for 30 years, I haven’t with heroine’s journey. Which takes the hero’s journey and then continues it with a rejection then reconciliation with the masculine, in a form that allows the heroine to be female and powerful in her own way. So yeah. You asked about Bellamy, but i’m getting there. 

Bellamy finished his hero’s journey in s5. Clarke is still wrapping up her heroine’s journey in s7. So what the heckers is Bellamy’s journey NOW???

No. It’s not to help Octavia and Clarke finish theirs. He’s still the secondary protagonist and his path is his own. He and Clarke have paths that twine around each other’s like binary stars, but they’re both equal, even now when he’s finished his hero’s journey. And Octavia’s path is HER OWN, and she’s been facing it on her own, too. He wasn’t even there for most of it in s6, so that can’t be his purpose. And you MIGHT say it was to save Clarke, but... he’s not the secondary player in that. It is, all along, about his choices, his goals, his obstacles, not hers. Their stories are separate, even as they have the same goal, even as Bellamy is dragging the girl in Clarke’s body through the woods.

BELLAMY has a story arc in season 6 leading into s7, since s6 and s7 are the SAME story, with no restart for the new season. The final book of The 100 is essentially being told with one story, unlike the five seasons/chapters of the first book.

So what? Clarke’s story is a continuation of the heroine’s journey, but Bellamy’s hero’s journey is OVER. Where can we find guidance for what Bellamy’s story IS in season 6 and 7???

Go back to season 5. After he saves the day by stopping Octavia through his healing and responsibility and love, he saves the day by accepting the enemy prisoners onto the ship, and setting the new world onto a better path where it is no longer blood for blood nor are people expendable. What happens after that? He makes up with Clarke, he welcomes her back in the fold, Monty finds them a new world and then proceeds to give them tasks. Two (no three) tasks. Take care of Jordan, (wait no that was Harper’s task, let me go back to two,) BE the good guys, and LIVE a happy life like he did with Harper and Jordan.

HERE is where I started to get my inklings. Because it is clear that the task of s6 was “Be The Good Guys.” But if we watch the season, that isn’t Bellamy’s goal. He’s ready to take claim of the abandoned Sanctum for his people, to push Octavia out until she straightens up, to hold Echo accountable for not being open enough, to take vengeance on Sanctum for killing Clarke, to burn down Sanctum to get Clarke back, to abandon his people to danger to save Clarke, to sacrifice Sanctumites for his people. Nope. He’s really not in it to be the good guy this season. Clarke is. Bellamy is not.

This is where it starts to get interesting for Bellarke fans.

What do all his goals have in common? Love. Family. Intimacy. Need. Romance.

OH MY GOD. Bellamy’s goal for s6 and s7 is a straight up Heart goal. While Clarke needs to be the good guy, a Head goal, BELLAMY needs to have his family together, safe, and he needs to be able to LOVE. 

What... what kind of stories have LOVE as the goal?

Yes it could be a family story... except he left his family, he was willing to sacrifice his family for Clarke. When he first found out she was murdered, when he found out she was alive, at the edge of sanctum when they were caught, a hundred times when Josephine was trying to bribe him with safety or threaten him with death for all, when he didn’t want to let Clarke go back in undercover. He was, in the narrative, in the dialogue, and in his choices putting CLARKE above everyone else, because he needs her. He ALSO brought up his current relationship and how that wasn’t enough for him, in direct comparison to Clarke enjoying herself with another man (who looks like him) and her previous scene of intimacy and openness, which he does not feel like he gets from Echo. 

Right? So not only is he choosing Clarke over his family for partnership, ethical, loyalty and vengeance reasons, but ALSO for emotional, romantic, intimate, and EVEN physical reasons. He manhandled her all over Alpha, and saved her life with his need, his hands on her body and his lips on hers. No, those weren’t sexual in nature, but the emotion was there, the need. It was desperate AND passionate (just the wrong kind of passion.)

While Bellamy’s season begins with him trying to find a place for his family (now including Clarke) to live in love, he is also trying to figure out what that love means to him and what he wants from it. Leading to his teasing with Clarke, his anger with Echo, his hard and fast boundaries with Octavia, his intimate forgiveness convo with Clarke, the jealousy watching Clarke, the anger that Echo couldn’t be more like Clarke, even the intention to commit to Echo and not long for the past with Clarke (incidentally, that’s pretty much a confirmation that he was in love with Clarke pre time-jump. In order to reject the past he needed to have that romantic goal in the past.)

Bellamy’s goal. Is to find love. To live in love. To be happy like Harper and Monty. Bellamy’s goal is to find his happy ever after. His true love. Y’all.

Bellamy’s story arc for s6 and s7 is A ROMANTIC NARRATIVE. S6A had him trying to choose between Clarke and Echo, almost choosing Echo (or choosing her in name) then learning Clarke was dead and flat out losing it. Not wanting ANY intimacy from Echo around his grief, being alone. His head may have chosen Echo, but his heart chose Clarke. And his heart chose Clarke when she was dead and gone and he could no longer pretend he didn’t love her.  All is lost in his search for love.

Except she wasn’t dead. All of a sudden, his narrative goals focuses down to ONE purpose. Save Clarke. Forget making nice with the Lightbournes. Forget his relationship with Echo. Forget what was going on on the ship or with Abby or Jordan or with Madi or Raven or Murphy. ALL was Clarke. “you care more about Clarke.” 

YUP.

Season 6B was a full on Save Clarke storyline. And not as a group. Nope. No Siree Bob Morley. The group was busy taking care of the tasks that Clarke and/or Bellamy usually do. The ethical struggles, (raven.) The tactical struggles, (echo.) The political struggles, (murphy.)

Bellamy, whose goal is now getting back to his true love, is the only one going on that mission to save her. That’s because it isn’t a political mission or a tactical mission or an ethical mission. It is not another war. It is a desperate mission to save the woman he loves. Because he needs her. Because he won’t let her die. And it turns out she won’t leave him, either.

This.

Is.

A.

Bloody.

Love.

Story.

Bellamy’s storyline for s6 and s7 IS A ROMANCE STORY.  His goal is to get back to his true love and live a happy life.

Clarke is still about heroine’s journey, saving humanity, redeeming them.

Bellamy’s is about love.

Which, not coincidentally, is what makes survival worth while. It’s why this whole adventure began in the pilot, because Abby was desperate to save her daughter and sent 100 (+2) delinquents to earth to do it. There HAS to be more to life than just impossible decisions and a tragic end. They can choose to live.

It also isn’t until AFTER he saves Clarke, admits he needs her, and gets to share himself with her that he’s able to forgive Octavia and begin joking with her again. It’s almost as if when you let yourself FEEL your real feelings, instead of burying them under duty and anger and resentment, that the good feelings come back.

Anyway.

This is what I think is Bellamy’s new journey. In order to complete his journey as The Heart of The 100, he needs to be with his soulmate, without any more boundaries between them. 

Bellamy’s storyline is a romantic storyline. Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy gets girl back. Endgame.

antis do not interact. lol

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Pantomime

Author: BeansidheBaby

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howince

It was easy to forget that Vince had been raised in the forest these days. He never stopped to speak to animals any more, or told stories about Bryan Ferry and his childhood adventures. He had lost the slightly naïve wonder he used to regard the whole world with. Now he smirked and swaggered (well, minced really) with an arrogant grace, that was completely divorced from the awkwardly gangly teenager Howard had lured away from the vacuum that was state education with promises of adventure and millet rotas. Howard was shocked then, to discover that Vince had never heard of Cinderella. Later he realised that there was no logical way that he would have known. Leopards are not known for their knowledge of the collected works of the Grimm's Brothers and Bryan was more the lullaby than the bed time story type. “Howard,” Vince bounded up excitedly “What?” Howard muttered barely looking up from his copy of Global Explorer “Can we see this?” he held up a poster, “It looks well trendy. It's about a girl who gets made a princess because she had great shoes. Imagine that!” Howard looked more carefully at the poster. “Vince, this is for the panto. It's for kids,” he said flatly, “Besides you already know what happens in the end, so what's the point paying twenty quid to see some sad collection out of work soap actors and and has-been pop stars torture us with two hours of double entendres and dodgy slapstick?” “Why, what happens? Does she win X-factor?” Vince asked with sincerity shining from his eyes. Howard eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to say that you never heard the story of Cinderella?” he asked incredulously, “You know the words to every Gary Numan song ever written and you don't know what happens at the end of Cinderella?” “Yeah,” said Vince churlishly, “So are we going or what?” “I'll book the tickets,” Howard sighed. He had forgotten how loud it was. Even as a child he had found it all very unnecessary and tedious. It was worth it though, to see Vince staring at the play wide-eyed, whooping for the good guys and hissing at the bad guys. Howard had been ready to tackle any and all questions about girls playing boys and middle aged men playing old women, with historical background notes on the theatre prepared in bullet points, but Vince had taken it all in his stride. Typical. At the moment he was admiring the actress who played Button's tight knee length trousers. “Those are genius! Do you think that the Victorian butler look could be coming back?” he asked in Howard's general direction. Howard chose to see this as a rhetorical question, as Vince would hardly ask him his opinion on fashion trends in dead earnest. During the interval, Vince bought a bag of liquorish all sorts “to share” (translation: he ate them and picked out the plain black ones for Howard) “Thanks for taking me Howard,” he said with his cheeks full of sweets, looking more childlike than he had in years. His free hand rested on Howard's armrest, his long fingers plucking at the worn nap of the velvet. The lights dimmed and the curtains reopened. The second act was beginning. Vince impulsively grabbed Howard's hand and rested his head on his friend's shoulder. Ooh that's low, thought Howard, wait until I can't make a fuss. It didn't actually bother him very much really. But it did worry him that it didn't. He nervously reached out an arm and placed it self consciously around Vince.

Vince was quieter during the second act, not heckling the dumber heckers any more or throwing all-sorts at the people in the stacks. He just sat slumped against Howard's shoulder and fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. Howard sat as stiff as a board with his arm mechanically around his friend's waist, trying so hard to be nonchalant. Vince shifted and his cheek came into contact with Howard's neck. Howard flinched slightly, but tightened his grip on Vince. He spent the rest of the performance focusing solely on Vince's hot breath against his throat. When the curtain finally fell after three curtain calls (three too many, thought Howard) they rose to their feet awkwardly. Howard shifted away from Vince and looked steadfastly at the ground but, made no move to take his arm away. They walked towards the exit holding on to each other loosely but closely, bumping hips and legs together occasionally. I missed this, Howard realised abruptly. Doing stupid things with Vince that neither of them would ever normally do. Vince touching him. He told Vince not to touch him so man times that apparently he'd stopped trying. “What I don't understand is,” Vince said tiredly, “why did Cinderella marry the prince?” “Fitted the shoe. If the shoe fits, wear it,” Howard replied “No, I mean why did she want to marry him not how did she manage it. And I'm not even going to go into how unlikely it is that one person would have a different shoe size to everyone else in the country and still be able to find fab shoes” “Why wouldn't she marry him? He's the prince. That's how stories go” “But what about Buttons?” Vince insisted. How did bloody chocolate come into it? “Buttons loved her and she liked him better than anyone else she knew. Why does she drop him?” Oh that Buttons. “Button's being in love with Cinderella is supposed to be a joke. She didn't see him like that even as a possibility,” Honestly a footman who was a very ineffectively disguised girl over the heir to the thrown? “That's bullshit,” said Vince vehemently, “No one falls in love with people they hook up with at parties. You wake up, you find your clothes, you go home and never call them and they never call you. Those are the rules!” “You're absolutely right Vince. We should write a letter to Disney immediately and tell them that they're perpetuating a falsehood about the 'rules' as regards classic fairy tales,” Howard said with a sarcastic wave of his hand “Don't get shirty with me. I'd rather marry my best mate who loved me rather than some pouf that fancied me for my shoes!” Vince snapped back “Stories aren't supposed to be realistic, Vince. It's supposed to be an escape,” Howard said quietly “Haven't they seen 'When Harry Met Sally'?” Vince was patently sulking now. Howard sighed and pulled him closer and ruffled his hair. “Here don't get upset, little man. It's only a story, yeah?” “Yeah,” Vince muttered against Howard's coat. It was only forty five minutes later, when they were home and Howard was folding his clothes for the next day onto the end of his bed, that he remembered exactly what Vince had said. I'd marry my best mate who loved me rather than some pouf who fancied me for my shoes He put his shirt down carefully and sat down on the bed. Had Vince meant that literally or was he talking about some hypothetical best mate that he'd marry. Who he'd marry?! Howard decided suddenly that he didn't care if he looked like a fool and Vince teased him about this for a year. He walked towards the door quickly, gaining speed as he made his way to Vince's room. He burst into the room and just as suddenly realised exactly how embarrassing this would be if he'd gotten it wrong. And how stupid it looks to burst into a room sheepishly. Vince was semi undressed and sitting on his bed. “Took you long enough. I thought you were supposed to be the clever one?” he said casually but with a delicate tremor in his voice that was only just noticeable. “So what now?” he asked plucking at his shirt in a way that was equal parts sultry and nervous fiddling. “Vince I-” Howard coughed and blushed before looking up, “I think traditionally I would produce a white charger from somewhere and we'd ride off into the sunset” “Nah, that's princes you're thinking of,” smiled Vince, “you're my narky little butler who adores me from afar and then gives me up the second a jazzy village wench walks by” “So what now?” Howard echoed Vince's earlier question, feeling slightly hurt by the reference to his birthday party. Vince sashayed across the room until he was a foot away from Howard. He then shuffled closer until they were nose to nose (nose to chin to be completely accurate). He stood up onto his tippy toes and looked into his friend's eyes before pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Vince-” Vince shushed him and laced their fingers together before resting their foreheads together. “Do you know what friends with benefits are Howard?” Oh shit, thought Howard. Vince continued without asking for an answer. “We've been sort of married without benefits for ten years now.” Hang on, what? “I want to be with you. Just you. And really with you. You know?” Was Vince actually nervous? Howard wrapped his arms around Vince and kissed him firmly. “Why me?” he asked incredulously. “Because you love me and I love you. That's usually a good reason,” Vince smirked cheekily. “I'm not. I've never,” Howard stammered, becoming increasingly aware of his friends erection pressing into his thigh. “Don't worry, I'll fix that.”

Howard shuffled anxiously while Vince's cocky grin flickered. “We don't have to do anything you don't like,” he said quietly, all traces of his earlier confidence gone. “I do want to have done it. It's just doing it makes me feel a bit funny,” Howard admitted. How did it work anyway? He knew only the theoretical aspects of how to do it with a girl, was it different with men? Obviously it was different but, how different? Did Vince want to bum him? He had somewhat mixed feelings about that and he had been sure that his feelings on being bummed had been clear and to the point yesterday. Not that he thought of it much. Hardly ever. It was scarcely his fault that Vince insisted on wearing those tight trousers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Which unfortunately only made his imagination competitive. It was impossible to look at him and not wonder what being fucked by him would be like. It would be like going to a race track and ignoring the cars. Vince's face froze slightly. Howard realised his mistake. “Just take it slow. I'm new to all this,” he said sheepishly. This made Vince smile again, though more affectionately condescending than arrogantly this time. “Nice and slow,” he agreed and pulled Howard into a gut wrenchingly slow, sensuous kiss. Their lips slid across each other in a lazy fight for dominance. Howard captured Vince's tongue in his mouth and gave it an experimental suck. Vince groaned and muttered, “Oh Howard” into his mouth. Not with the intonation that those words usually received either, like he was a puppy that had shamed itself in the middle of the kitchen floor. No, this “Oh Howard” was a creature far removed from the “Oh Howard” of old. This “Oh Howard” was doing something very, very right. Emboldened by this success he nipped at his friend's lower lip and teased it between his teeth. That went down quite well, with Vince making a small noise in the back of his throat and pressing himself closer to Howard's body and pulling their hips together suddenly. They were both hard and straining against their flies. Howard yelped girlishly and jumped at the pressure causing Vince to break away and look up worriedly, “Too fast?” he asked nervously “No, no just right,” Howard said breathlessly. Vince flashed an impish grin before cupping the bulge in the taller man's trousers and squeezing. “Too much!” Howard squeaked. “Seriously?” Vince asked, “Sorry. Maybe we should lie down for a bit” “Ho ho, Vince. I'm not that bad,” snapped Howard. Vince waved his hands hurriedly “No, no. Look like this,” he said, grabbing Howard's hands and lay back on the bed, pulling Howard on top of him. He spread his legs and settled Howard between them before grinding upwards with his hips. He guided Howard's hand above their heads before wrapping his arms around his neck. “That good?” he asked sounding a bit winded. “Aren't I too heavy?” Howard asked concerned “Naw, I'm not made of glass. If Naboo can support a fully grown primate, I think you n' me'll manage.” Howard looked as though he was going to ask for an elaboration on what Vince had just said but, he soon forgot everything about tiny shamen and what they got up to on business trips with their familiars, when he felt Vince's sharp incisors against his jugular vein. It felt very nice and then very painful. For about ten seconds he was sure Vince actually was the vampire of Shoreditch and had seduced him so he could drink of his virgin's blood. Or something like that. And then he got used to the pain and wet suction and it was very, very nice again. Vince might be mistaken for a women with startling frequency, but from this position there was no denying that he was a man. His stubbly cheek was scraping the delicate skin on Howard's neck, there was a taut if spare manly musculature writhing underneath his body and if any doubt could still remain on the topic, the hard cock digging into his groin put it firmly to rest. Abandoning the neck, the thinner man kissed up the whiskery jaw and nibbled at a fleshy ear lobe. “We're going to have to lose the clothes, Howard. That bloody corduroy monstrosity is a mood killer if I ever saw one,” Vince muttered a wet explosion into the shell of Howard's ear. Without asking permission he instantly got to work on the practical belt buckle that was responsible for the restraint of said corduroys. “And the less said about the shirt the better,” he went on, his voice was shaking slightly from the effort of unfastening the buckle. Rather than throw a strop, Howard decided to concede this sartorial victory to Vince and started to unbutton his shirt, blunt fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons. Two warm little white hands batted his away impatiently and wrenched the garment off, sending the buttons flying in every direction. “I've wanted to do that for years,” Vince said with a voice husky with lust. Howard toyed with the idea of asking him if he meant destroy his shirt or ravage him but decided neither answer would be totally satisfying. It was better to retain some degree of mystery in a relationship. Vince wiggled out from underneath him and started undressing. There was no question of helping him. True love or not, no one manhandled Vince's wardrobe. Suddenly Vince was completely naked and Howard was down to his socks and underpants. Vince smiled at him ironically and went down on one knee taking one of Howard's feet in his hands. He hooked his fingers around the elastic and eased the sock down the foot , pausing to kiss the Achilles heel, the instep, the ankle. When the sock fell to the ground he gently sucked each of Howard's toes in turn like tiny fat phalluses. Howard was thinking in a small part of his mind that he was glad that he'd washed and cut his toenails recently. The rest of him was not thinking much at all. When Vince released the big toe with an audible pop, he kissed his way back up Howard's leg, rubbing his cheek against his inner thighs like a pet cat and licking and nipping gently upwards. Howard held onto his shoulders, more to ground himself than to try to control Vince, and whimpered. Vince's face was in the hallow where his thighs met and his breath was coming in warm gusts that Howard felt through his pants. There was a slim hand on his stomach with a dexterous thumb stroking above the top of his undergarments. No matter how he tried to angle hips, that thumb stayed where it was. “Please, Vince,” Howard begged pitifully “Please what?” asked Vince with faux innocence, “Tell me what you want” “Want you,” Howard gasped “I'm right here. Tell me what to do,” Vince stroked, stroked, stroked. Please there! “I don't know but do it soon, please!” Please, please, please. “Howard-” “Please touch me!” Oh god, that was embarrassing. Howard tried to look away, but couldn't escape Vince's smiling eyes. “As you wish,” he said and pulled off the underpants in one smooth motion, pausing only for Howard to raise his hips. He moved fluidly, taking the head of Howard's purpling cock in his mouth, pumping the shaft with one hand and cupping his testicles with the other. Howard watched the dark head bob between his legs with astonished fascination. Then, Vince looked up and the sight of his engorged penis slipping in and out of that familiar mouth was almost too much. “Stop, too much,” he gasped. Vince stopped and looked up. “Are you freaking out up there?” he asked, “Do you need to stop, stop?” “No, not that. I just don't want to, you know, not yet,” he looked away blushing. You would think that it would get easier to say these things to someone who had been moments ago sucking you off. Apparently not. “Alright,” said Vince hoisting himself up and slithering up Howard's torso like a snake or a professional slitherer. “Can I still kiss you, or is that weird after what I just did,” he asked two inches from Howard's face. Howard grabbed him by the back of his neck and tasted his own precome on those sweet lips. Salty, but not as bad as he thought it would taste. Vince smiled against his lips and opened his mouth hungrily. He began to rock and grind against Howard, who tentatively bucked back. They found a rhythm and ground against each other, erections digging into hips, lips on necks, ears, noses. Howard reached between their heaving bodies and grabbed their cocks together in his large hand. “Wank me off, Howard,” Vince whispered in his ear urgently. Cock against cock, they both fucked Howard's tight fist desperately. Howard felt a tell tale tingle in his lower belly spreading downwards rapidly. He let go of the cocks and gripped his friend's shoulders. “Vince, I'm going to- I'm, I'm,” overcome with sensation and modesty he hid his face in the crook of Vince's shoulder and bit down on the tendon. “I'm going to too,” Vince said and screwed up his face before they came moments apart. The electro boy collapsed bonelessly on top of his jazz maverick. “That was really good,” he said into the pillow. “Really? I mean I thought it was but you've had more-” Howard spluttered slightly hysterically “Howard,” Vince turned his face off of the pillow, “You were the best” “Don't mock me,” Howard scowled. “I mean it. And now I know you've been holding out on me, I'm never ever letting you go,” Vince snuggled closer limpet-like, hooking his legs around Howard's. “Do you really mean that? You're not toying with me?” “Well it was a bit of a lie,” Vince said thoughtfully, “I'd still never let you go even if you were rubbish and I had to teach you everything. Go to sleep.” “I would but I've got a disenfranchised princess on me,” Howard said and tickled Vince playfully. “Gerroff you northern idiot.” Vince squealed and rolled off and to the side of Howard, where he latched onto him again and hummed contentedly. They lay twined together sticky and naked until the next morning when a surprisingly nonchalant Naboo casually informed them that shops didn't open themselves and would they mind terribly to take a moment out of their busy schedule to do their bloody job before they were out on their ears. “Yes stepmother,” groaned Vince reluctantly detaching himself from his new lover.

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

Tutoring and mentorship programs that pair up younger and older students are common. But most rely on high-achieving students. Reach turns the idea on its head: Hecker says most of the teenage tutors start the program reading between a fourth and sixth grade level.

The tutors receive training in literacy instruction because for them, Reach isn't just an after-school program — it's a job. They get paid for the time they spend reading and writing with kids.

"We work to position them as community assets and role models," Hecker explains. That's not how teenagers — especially teens of color — are usually treated, he says.

Struggling teenagers, he notes, are often given work written for younger students. But they can tell when they're reading something that was meant for young kids.

"Kids don't like to feel stupid," Hecker says. With Reach, teens are given the responsibility of helping a younger student. That's a big deal for them.

"We trust teens to be responsible for things that they care about. And often, that makes education real in a way that the classroom doesn't always," Hecker says. But that trust, he adds, must go both ways: "You can't get kids to be vulnerable enough to work on really hard things — like reading — if they don't trust you."

[themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy]

so for the valentine’s requests, can you do something with Remus where you guys were already together and y/n decided to plan this whole thing for Remus as a surprise but he doesn’t realize it and whenever she tries to get him somewhere he protests?

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Okay dude you had spent MONTHS planning this date

You were going to take him to Hogsmeade

Take him to a little cafe that you’d recently discovered

You’d already reserved your favorite little booth in the corner

And ordered a platter of his favorite chocolate sweets

Then you two would go to Flourish and Blott’s

Get as many books as he wanted 

Then Zonko’s

Because as much as he pretends to be an angel

He wants to get James and Sirius back for all the stuff they’ve put him through

Then after that you’re taking him into the Shrieking Shack

Because you want to make his old memories of the place seem not so bad anymore, and you want to give him something happy to think about while he’s suffering in there

Then you’re ending the day with watching the sun set on the snow-covered hillside :’)

I want that 

You woke up bright and early on valentines day

Like six am

And you turned over and traced the outlines of Remus’ face to wake him up

He rolled over on top of you to make you stop poking him

“I’m trying to sleep”

“And I’m trying to wake you up!”

He just groaned and peeked one eye open

“It’s too early. Jesus himself isn’t even up yet, I shouldn’t be.”

And with that he shut his eye and laid his head on top of your hand that you had been using to wake him up

“Remus! We have to get up now!”

“Why?”

“We… We just have to, okay?”

“No.”

“Remus, please! Just trust me, we have to!”

“Why?!”

“I can’t tell you!”

He groaned and pulled the blankets up over his head again

“Just let me sleep Y/N”

You eventually managed to wrestle him out of bed at around seven and get him dressed

“Let’s go for a ride into the village, I need to pick up a new quill.”

“I don’t wanna come, I’m gonna stay here and do homework”

“No, you have to come with me!”

“…Why?”

“Don’t question it Remus”

He grumbled but got in a carriage anyways

“Can’t believe you’re dragging me all the way down there”

“Shush”

You got to the village and veered right for the cafe instead of left for the supply store

“Where are we going?”

“Let’s get some coffee first.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll go get your quill and meet you back at the carriages, how about that?”

“REMUS FOR CHRIST’S SAKE JUST TRUST ME AND FOLLOW ALONG”

“…”

No one said anything but people were for sure staring

You grabbed his hand and dragged him tf down to the cafe

“I’m here for my reservation?”

“Yes, right this way!”

The woman led you to your booth and you glared at Remus, plopping down at the table full of sweets

“Oh love…”

“Next time don’t doubt me and just get your butt over where I’m telling you to go.”

He nodded and shoved chocolate into his face lil hecker

After that you ‘went to grab some textbooks’ 

You also had to drag him along to Flourish and Blott’s because, “Chocolate makes me sleepy Y/N, let’s go nap.”

You led him through the store and broke the news that he could get whatever he wanted and that it was all already paid for (you knew exactly what he was gonna pick up smh)

He hugged you really tight omg

He was less reluctant to go to Zonko’s, just because hello it’s Zonko’s

He got so many good things omg he’s gonna get James and Sirius so hard

But it was the Shrieking Shack where he flat out refused

“No, Y/N, I hate it in there! You know what’s happening to me when I’m in there, why would you bring me here?”

“Because I want to make the old memories seem not so bad and I want you to have something good to think about when you’re trapped in here again.”

“I really appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know if I can go in there for the whole night, let alone drag you in there.”

“Fine, I’ll drag you in there.”

You took his hand and you guys ended up sitting on the bed and talking and laughing for hours

You laid down together and Remus read out loud from his book stash

By the time the sun was setting you guys were half asleep but you dragged his butt out of bed and onto the roof

He almost fell like three times shhh

But you laid your head on his shoulder and watched the sun go down :’))))))

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[rirupadg]

oh my god @max-the-hecker​​​ ​your tags lit something within me. anyways um. i was going to go write a short story im working on and needed a writing warmup so uh,, here you go? i kinda of started a thing. ignore the fact i didn’t proofread this or anything my first draft are usually p shit x_x if i ever write this as a fic and post it to ao3 it would be so much more edited you wouldn’t Believe. also i might’ve gotten some star facts wrong don’t sue me it’s been a few years since my space obsession

heres like. 900~ words of vague thoughts. enjoy!

From Cygnus to Canes Venatici, Cassiopeia to Canis Major; he lost himself to the endless stars he admired so much. With free rein and nothing better to do, he traveled from place to place. He could now, considering he could fly and didn’t need to breathe. His obsession swelled from the attention, enthralled by the stars and planets and nebulas within reach. It’s unclear how long its been since his feet last touched the ground, but he didn’t even notice at first.

A perfect pair of stars—Mizar and Acruz to be exact, binary stars— twirled around each other. From earth they look like one big blue star, but from here? Yellow space dust nips at his heels as the two continue their dance. It’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. NASA would kill to see it too. Such a pretty view… Jazz would want to see it.

The thought snapped him out of his obsession.

For a moment, space is less lonely. She’d want to take a picture for him, but she’d use that stupid old phone and it’d get all messed up and look like a big light bulb. That’s when Tucker would, naturally, beg to upgrade it for her, and she’d yell at him for the hundredth time while Sam would laugh. But just as quickly as it came, the illusion shattered. His sister is back in Illinois with the rest of his friends. He’s the homeless guy in space.

Even Danny could admit that spending eternity alone in space was too much. At this point, circling back to earth might be the best option. There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll either feel better or more homesick, but he usually faced worse odds in fights back home, so he’ll take it.

It was sightseeing from the moon when he saw it. The Justice League's very own watchtower.

He really shouldn’t go there. Jazz would lecture him so hard if he did.

But. Well. What if he just peaked? Really quickly, he swears.

Danny mentally apologizes to Jazz (not that she would ever find out, but it’s the thought that counts). In his perfectly acceptable defense, all that time lifelessly floating through space messed with his ability to tell time.

A ‘quick peak’ became an hour— became a day, became a week, became two weeks, became a month...

Well, there’s only so much a space-bound ghost could do. It’s not like he can come to earth, right? Might as well prank some of Earth’s most notorious heroes. He’ll be careful, he swears.

Batman knew something was up when a batarang went missing on the watchtower. He, like all the primary heroes, keeps spare equipment on the Watchtower for emergencies. Every Tuesday, he checks on his gear. Every single one is accounted for (and fixed if necessary).

Until today.

He called in the emergency while checking the cameras and scouring for evidence (of which, he found none). It only confirmed his suspicions. Every Justice League member who’d visited the tower last week had shoved themselves into the meeting room.

“What’s this all about, Bats?” The flash says, nervous energy coming off him in waves, “you said there was an emergency?”

Most superheroes were liars to some extent (how else are you meant to hide the crime fighting) but that didn’t mean most were good ones. Micro expressions, body language, tone or eye contact— there were many ways to discern the truth if you were looking for it. In the time it takes him to walk into the room, Batman observes the following:

Green Lantern’s body was angled towards the door, looking ready to run— but judging by the communicator he was poorly hiding behind his back and stiff leg, he probably just finished something exhausting for the Corps. Or he just doesn’t want to be here. Nice of him to show up anyways— it’ll hopefully be quick.

Flash is avoiding eye contact— but that doesn’t mean much. The man hates eye contact sometimes, and based off of the rapid movements of his hands today was one of those days. One of the only ones that could've done it, but not likely.

Superman is one of the good liars, but the confusion on his face (most likely) isn’t faked. Not him.

Red Robin— Batman frowns and focuses on his son and his friends. He’s one of the best actors he knows, but Bruce knows his kids. The teenagers are hiding something, but they don’t know about the batarang. They’re shifty, but not nervous enough to get caught doing something. He’ll note that.

Robin has his default ‘annoyed’ face. Not that he’d ever do it. The day Damian pranks someone would be the day pigs fly. (Naturally of course, it doesn’t count if any magic or alien shenanigans or regular humans throwing them into the air caused it, Jason.)  

Wonder Woman, Nightwing, Beast Boy, Wonder Girl, and Superboy were all off-world on a mission with a few other heroes. He wasn’t expecting any of them to do it. None of them had the time or reason to (plus, Nightwing, Beast Boy, and Wonder Girl would definitely want to see his reaction if they did, so.)

It only leaves one option.

Batman tosses Flash a granola bar (surprised but thankful, shoulders less tense, probably not the suspect) before continuing.

“An unknown entity has infiltrated the Watchtower.”

Everyone froze. Quite literally, to Batman’s surprise. The room’s temperature dropped dramatically— he swiveled to face the intruder and finds... a terrified-looking teenager floating near the ceiling.

Well. He found the Batarang. Give it up for the world’s greatest detective. Wahoo.

(post dividers by @jayteacups​​ btw. they’re rlly cute i think so i used it lmao)

i told you the ending was bad hfgjk. if inspiration strikes you might get a part 2 haha. if that ever happens ill probs fix it up and post to ao3. neyways!

(tags by @kittymeow321​)

don’t be mean to danny ;_; he’s just a little guy ok. let him be nice sometimes </3 i gotta admit the mental image of supermans cape getting tied to batmans was too funny id draw it but every time i try it looks like a henry stickman drawing

taglist time!! i hope i got everyone: @skulld3mort-1fan​ @amercurio​​ @screamingtofillthevoid​​ @mimilikey​​ @dewdrop-gremlin​ @evediaphoenix1123​ @satanicrutialspecialist​​ @dixiwoods

au where danny haunts the justice league. one day, green lantern is stuck on monitor duty (bored out of his mind) and he hears a kid giggling. there’s no one there. he’s mindly terrified but also he’s been a green lantern for a while and ‘ghost child laughter’ is not the weirdest thing ever so he shrugs and moves on. he forgets about it. next day, the flash is using the watchtower’s computer to find info on a rouge that’s bothering him. he’s been here for hours already, and is drinking coffee (with an insane amount of caffeine considering the speedster thing) to stay awake. barry goes to grab his cup, only to find it’s not there anymore. he looks up: his cup is floating a few meters above his head. when he blinks, its back to its original spot. he thinks its a hallucination and goes home to sleep it off. it goes on like that for a while. batman finds a granola bar taped to his utility belt (with a note telling him to go home) and assumes its one of his kids. superman gets a packet of information on his latest villian and assumes its batman (considering the info borders on stalking). wonder woman comes to the watchtower one day to find all her spare armor and weapons cleaned and shined. she thinks flash got really bored during monitor duty one day. and so on.

[maskedl0ve]

✨ LOVELY OOC MEME ✨

✨ TAGGED BY: @panickypeachboy​ (THANK YOU PLUSHIE)   ✨ TAGGING: IM.....SO BAD AT TAG....PLEASE STEAL THIS FROM ME 

NAME: Yume NICKNAME: Yume AGE: 21 FACE CLAIM: Suga from Forest of Drizzling Rain is the character I use the most as my faceclaim. I love him to piECES and no matter how  many times i try to use other characters as my face claim i always tend to fall back to him. You can also see me switch between other miscellaneous characters, mostly Kaitou Kid tho PRONOUNS: She/her HEIGHT: 5′7′‘  BIRTHDAY: Feburary 25

AESTHETIC: Rain, Tea, Books, cute Desserts, stopping now before i ramble 

LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO:  Ga1ahad and Scientific Witchery By Mili. Mili’s songs are....so good....

FAVORITE MUSE ( S ) YOU’VE WRITTEN: why must you do this to me u h...i have a shit ton of muses so it’s hard to say which are my FAVORITES. but...I guess Zen from Persona Q, Emil from Nier, Sora from Kingdom Hearts, Andersen from Fate / Extra CCC, uhhhh.....i du n n o i have lots of muses 

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO TAKE ON YOUR CURRENT MUSE ( THAT YOU ARE POSTING THIS ON ): I have two of my friends to blame for this hecker l’D A friend of mine wrote lucas in a private rp and i loved how he wrote him sO MUCH. so he introduced me to Mother 3 and two of my friends said I’d love claus. I watched chugga’s sUPER OLD lp, played the game myself on an emulator and yeah i ended up super inspired to write him after i did so. I couldn’t stop thinking of headcanons for him and uh... ye a h... long story short i have two enablers to blame .-.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE ASPECTS OF YOUR CURRENT MUSE: Hmm... This is gonna sound horrible but his mentality and the things that happened to him. Caus it’s been so much fun figuring out how his mind works and just how much of him is robotic and how his psi works and is different and ect ect. but if we’re talking just rping in general, i love how much of a sweetheart claus can be when he isn’t scared. I love how that despite everything he’s still a sweetheart and cares a lot about others and genuinely wants to get better. He was in a horrible place and kinda still is mentally. but he’s trying and i really like that... 

WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING: Hmmm...it’s a multitude of things. Sometimes if I’m writing Masked Man i listen to the song ‘Sl0t’ by mili cause it gives me them masked man vibes. but usually a lot of my inspiration comes from discussing things with other people or just...seeing things of claus or seeing mother 3 things in general. i dunno. i get inspirited by other people lots. 

FAVORITE TYPES OF THREADS: Usually i like really emotional rps but i have to say with claus i really like soft threads with him. I adore the threads where he finally lets down his walls even if just for a little or takes small steps to becoming a better. or just...threads where he actually talks about stuff that happened, letting people in. Or heckin helping others. i dunno. with claus i really like bitter sweet, sweet, emotional stuff that isn’t supreme angst, and mellow stuff. im bad explaining stuff i gomen. 

BIGGEST STRUGGLE IN REGARDS TO YOUR CURRENT MUSE: Too much angst,,,, I love my son but by god for a while he was so miserable that i felt it and i lost his muse for a long while. so that’s the problem i have with him. Him breaking down or getting hurt and bottling things up to the point where it destroys him. so u h...... y e a h   , , , , ,