#I have a small collection of bones from the noodles now

[ahollowgrave]

-- room for two, pt ii.

[featuring @hazelkjt's lovely Hazel and Floof!]

[callmemrskenway]

Hi, it’s me again! You’re gonna be seeing me here often! Hope you don’t mind. Anyway I was wondering if you could write some headcannons about what it be like to date MK, Wukong, Red son and Macaque if they were yanderes? Or how they would act if they were yanderes?(Does that make sense? Hope so-)

OOOH YES, I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or  1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

Yandere! MK:

- He goes from a Lucid yandere to a delusional one. He gets worried that his feelings for you are wrong and is scared of himself for wanting to be so close to you, for thinking about you constantly.

- He knows what a crush is and he's even had a few but never have they ever given him such an intense feeling like this. Like the way he obsessively wants to collect everything you drop, or whenever you order some noodles he delivers that he can't help but look at you or try to find you through your window in hopes of seeing you when you think you're not being watched, or all the dark thoughts he gets whenever someone flirts/upsets/ or even hurts you.

- What would Mei think? What would Pigsy and Tang think? What would Sandy think? What would Monkey King think!? EVEN WORSE, what would YOU yourself think if you ever found out about all the thoughts that he thinks about you!?

- MK tries so hard to hide his tendencies but when his mentor notices how weirdly possessive he is of you...and he encourages it.

- MK is surprised about it as well but he is quick to believe Wukong about it, wanting an excuse to justify it and now here he was, getting validation from the person who he looked up to the most, saying that his feelings aren't "weird" or "dangerous"

- "C'mon, bud, you're a hero now! It's only normal that you want to protect them from everything!" Wukong would say cheerily.

- Yeah...yeah that makes sense! The world is a dangerous place, especially right now with the Lady Bone demon and other demons, so maybe MK's possessiveness isn't that off base. In fact it wasn't even possessiveness, it was just him wanting to protect you from this cruel world.

- He's clingier after that and a bit more prone to whine. He tries to get you and all your time to himself, dragging you from your other friends and acquaintances and, hell, even from your family at times it sees.

- Gets so upset when you say you can't hang out with him some days, but then he quickly says it's cool but it doesn't stop him from following and tracking your every move.

- I highly doubt he'll kidnap you, knowing he won't ever be able to care for you properly in his small apartment and noodle job but that doesn't mean you can escape him. He trains harder to protect you and to keep you with him.

- A doting yandere, he believes that he has to shield you from the world and become the only thing that you will ever need. He wants to provide for you, take care of you, and more importantly, make you reliant on him so you never need anything or anyone else.

- So yeah he feels guilty at first but Wukong starts throwing fuel into the figurative fire of his obsession and while he does still retain some of his morals and beliefs, that fire of passion he has for you can start burning them away and leaving anyone or anything that dared to hurt you into nothing but a pile of ash.

Yandere! Wukong:

- Unlike MK, he knows what he's doing is wrong but the thing is, he's so casual about it that its unsettling. He is the kind of yandere that you don't really see coming.

- Look, he's protected humanity from how many threats? And yeah, he might've caused some trouble here and there but he overall was a really good hero and now that he's retired and settled down, he starts to realize there's a hole that just can't seem to be filled. A hole that is in the shape of you.

- It's so easy for him to draw you in and you never really notice any red flags about his behavior until its too late. He's just so carefree and goofy and charming! A silly monkey whose a renowned hero of the people, with just a little streak of chaos. So he gains your trust pretty easily.

- Very possessive of your time and of you in general. Like MK, he doesn't like it when you spend time with other people and he will try to slowly isolate you from loved ones. Maybe some friends are avoiding you or being distant, maybe some of them have just stopped contacting you in general. Overall, he will become the main person in your life.

- Doesn't have to stalk you, we've already established he is possessive so he just waltzes in whenever he wants too. You come home late at work and open the door to find a concerned Wukong whose upset and worried about why you didn't come home right away. Or like, how he'd absolutely pop up at your work to talk to you, only to pout when you get called away to do other things.

- However let's say you're going on a date with someone, then maybe that's when he decides to kidnap you and he will apologize for it later but you just don't understand: He is yours and you are his, and when he found out about the date, he felt cheated on.

- When you wake up, you can tell him that he had no right to do this, that he can't dictate who you date because you guys aren't together and he's all: "Yeah, I guess you're right about that. I never did make my interest in you clear. But that's okay because we can just start dating now and bam! problem solved!"

- He will play the manipulation card, he will guilt you, he will gaslight you, over physical punishment but don't think he's above doing so. He's taken down armies effortlessly so yeah, I really wouldn't try him.

- Wukong does genuinely want a loving and functional relationship with you, he knows things are a bit rough right now, but he has all the time in the world to make you love him and once he gives you a peach of immortality, you'll have all the time you need to learn how to love him.

- He's done so much that all he asks for in return is you and once his heart is set on you, I'm afraid there's not much you can do. Wukong isn't just some hero, he's a force of nature who does what he pleases so trust me when I say you aren't getting away from him anytime soon.

- Stockholm Syndrome is inevitable with him too. He treats you well, looking like a hurt puppy everytime you reject his affections, and he's just so...endearing. He does things for you that reminds you of what he was like before he kidnapped you and you start doubting yourself, you start losing yourself. Maybe he wasn't that bad- NO! He kidnapped you! But...he just wanted to protect you and he hasn't been that bad...

- Wukong will win. No one is strong enough to take you from him, he won't listen to your pleas or see reason, and he doesn't ever lose hope despite how many times you yell at him and tell him you hate him because he knows he will win and it's what makes it so satisfying. As he demands you tell him you love him and with broken pride and eyes filled with a mixture of defeat, and guilt that you might actually have developed feelings for him, you tell him "I love you, Sun Wukong." and now he knows that he has everything he'd ever need.

Yandere! Red Son:

- Believes he's entitled to you from the beginning. After all, he IS Red Son and he's rarely denied whatever it is that he wants and its not just because of his status but because of his intelligence and determination.

- Needless to say that if he wants you, then he will have you. However, these feelings for you don't just grow out of nowhere, he'd need to already be in a relationship with you.

- He'd need to love you, he'd need to cherish you, he'd need to feel that love and affection and praise that comes from you and then it'd need to be threatened.

- He'd need to realize he's capable of losing you, whether it be a love rival or a demon threatening your safety, either way, the event leads him with the heartbreaking realization that fate led you two together but it can also rip you two apart.

- But he won't let that happen, it's never going to happen. After the incident he becomes a bit...overbearing. Constant Demon Bull Clones following you and monitoring your protection, him constantly staying glued to your side no matter what, and blowing up at anyone and anything who poses a threat to you.

- He's a victim of his own paranoia, because his efforts to keep you close only cause you to want to drift apart from him and when you mention a need for a "break" then he gets a bit hysterical.

- A BREAK!? WHY WOULD YOU NEED A BREAK!? You never wanted a break before! What do you mean he's become obsessive!? HE'S JUST TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!

- Won't accept the fact that you actually think that and he just thinks that you're being influenced by other people (despite the fact he limits your contact with other people) people who are trying to manipulate you, put ideas into your head, trying to split you two apart and the worst thing is that you can't see that!

- While Red Son isn't the strongest yandere on this list, he is the one that is most quick to discipline his darling for their disobedience or misbehavior. Expect to get a few burns if you're not "well behaved".

- Unlike MK, Red Son's parents will beg their son to stop with his obsession but mostly because it's interfering with his own health and they're concerned about his fall but he gets angry, believing his parents are betraying him. Before he was merely controlling and forcing to be monitored and to spend more time with him but now he's gone off of the deep end and while lock you up somewhere where NO ONE can take you away from him.

- This doesn't excuse his behavior but the only reason for his fall is that he's terrified of losing you, there are threats surrounding you, plotting against you, he's merely fighting for your love but you just can't see it.

- He can be gentle at times but he's moody. One wrong word can send him into a rage, one hesitant touch will lead him to roughly grab you and pull you closer to him (he will respect your boundaries but barely) as you feel his hand starting to burn into your wrist, marking you as his.

Yandere! Macaque:

- Like Wukong, he's charming and very welcoming. Flattery, flirting, all of it to lure you closer and closer to the shadows until you're finally close enough that he can pull you in before you barely know what even hits you.

- He is a stalker type, he has the powers for it and when you two do get together, he's literally following you close behind like he's your shadow. Whether you know it or not, Macaque is always with you, watching and observing.

- Maybe he was gonna manipulate you for his own nefarious plan or maybe it was a simple unlucky coincidence in where you two cross paths but you show him a sliver of genuine kindness, of affection, and he's obsessed. He doesn't stop thinking about you because you made him feel something he hasn't felt in a long time, hell, maybe never.

- He's never been in love before but he knows that that's what he feels towards you. He also doesn't want to lose it so he's so careful when he plans out your relationship together. Macaque is cunning and literally every interaction, every person who leaves you, everything has been organized just so Macaque can have you too himself.

- He's so good at warping and brainwashing you, not too much though, but if you have a bit of fight to you, that's okay. It won't last long and while he will find it entertaining, it becomes old fast. So yes, he will try to make sure Stockholm syndrome kicks in as soon as possible and is inevitable.

- A very jealous and insecure yandere. Despite his calm and charming villainous side, his yandere tendencies do stem from his inferiority complex. Please love him and him only, don't make him second place because he IS gonna be the number one person in your life and he'll quite literally kill anyone who gets in the way of that. Your heart is his as much as his heart is yours.

- He's a romantic, though, there's no denying it and you can't resist him for long and it makes you feel sick. You hate that your heart skips a beat when he proclaims his love for you, you hate how at some point you give up struggling against him and actually melt in his arms, you hate yourself for letting him kiss you and not hating it.

- What makes him dangerous as a yandere is how he's willing to fight for you. He's not as powerful as Wukong and he's been left with nothing but the scraps of what Wukong has left. When it comes to you, he fights like he has EVERYTHING to lose, and it's because he does. In the lonely darkness, you're his only light.

- He doesn't want you to be scared of him, though, he'd absolutely hate that. Again, he genuinely wants you to love him and he knows he's messed up so far but trust him, once you stop resisting it won't feel so impossible, just let go of your sanity and give yourself up to him.

- If you are associated with Wukong in any way, you immediately become unattainable to him but that doesn't stop him. He trains and he comes back, his goal being you and when he fights his brother, he's not holding back. It scares you because even though Wukong is powerful, there are multiple times where Macaque has almost won against him.

- And then even when he's defeated, he looks at you and smirks. A dangerous glint in his eye as he vows: "You will be mine, (Y/n). Sun Wukong can beat me as much as he likes but I have to win only once and you'll belong to me."

- Either way, your chances of him escaping are the same chances as escaping the nighttime. Once you're in his sights, every shadow feels a little menacing to you whether you know about Macaque's twisted love for you or not. Every shadow in the corner of your eye, every time your pulled out of sleep because you feel someone's eyes on you, every small item of yours that goes missing or random gift that shows up is most likely Macaque watching you from the darkness. Waiting. Plotting. Until he's finally able to pull you into the dark.

[thejaded0nes]

Chapter Three: Starting off Small

First | Last | Next

She sits in her dorm room, her roomie was absent as usual, the only sight of them is the bed and pile of envelopes they send to cover their rent. Zoe couldn’t complain honestly, it was a pretty good deal. She never really got along with anyone she roomed with, much perfuring to have an area to herself. She sat on her bed, curled over a clipboard and frantically scrawled in answers.

“Address… occupation…” she mumbled mindlessly as her eyes meandered around the page. She jumped from question to question answering some, avoiding others. As she did her mind wandered, “worst case scenario, this is all some placebo and I’ll just have to go back to estrogen.” She sighed and she scribbled her signature, “best case scenario, maybe I won’t feel any more dysphoria.” Her mind went over Dr Aceilia’s talk briefly, “maybe this really could revolutionize trans care, but still.” her chest tightened as she finished her thought, “What did Avie mean by ‘knowing her better then she did.’” As this idea reached its apex, her eyes trained on the final question. One she had been bouncing off of repeatedly. Almost instinctively she reads it aloud, “How would you describe your own gender identity?” 

Her face scrunched, she stood and paced the room, only lit by the string of fairy lights strung along the top of the walls. Her mind raced, she had come out as trans to her parents before highschool and they weren’t that supportive. Zoe was adamant this was what she wanted and it took some convincing before her parents relented. Now however, she had the downtime to give it more thought, and she wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. She hated the idea of any kind of masculine presentation, and while she was certainly more comfortable with femme presenting, recent events had made her think. She pulled a large sweatshirt and pajama pants on, grabbed a package of instant noodles and headed off to the shared kitchen, head still swirling.

Zoe wanted to feel gorgeous, powerful, and while it's a struggle to have the former recognized, the latter has been obfuscated in tandem. She took incredible care in her figure but not in the way many others did. The idea of having to rely on others made her slightly ill, so she did a lot to be able to care for herself. She worked Mondays and weekends, practically to the bone when put in conjunction with college. As she placed her noodles in the microwave and pressed start, Zoe remembered an instant at work. She was carrying something and it wasn’t really that heavy, but the sloshing liquid inside along with the few points from which she could grab on to, it was awkward. She breathed and focused, sometimes she wished she had a few more limbs, so often left with her hands full. One of her coworkers offered to help and she was happy to accept. As he walked away he mentioned “if you need me to carry anything else heavy for you let me know”, she cringed.

It was a classic case of eww-phoria, while it was validating in a way, she felt demeaned. Zoe didn’t want to say anything at the moment but it did hurt, come to think of it why didn’t she? She collected her food and marched off back to her dorm, currently neck deep in her own head. Then, all at once she's snapped out by the sound of a door clicking open, her door clicking open.

Her head darted up from its sullen position, and was met with Justin. He was nice but couldn’t take hints. He had been slinking up to Zoe every day for the past week, both in the dorms and the halls. She had always given him short curt responses, he took this as a hard outer shell he had to crack. She took this as an insult. Today was not a good day for his latest courting attempt but when it came to reading rooms, Justin was illiterate.

“Hayyy!” He slunk against her door frame like a february snowman, the dark black scruff on his chin looking like the dirt in his snow white face. “Gotch yerself some noods?” somehow he asked the question like it wasn’t obvious.

“Yes, I made myself raman,” she began to fiddle with the noodles, keeping them from setting, “I was filling out some paperwork-” She was cut off.

“Yea y’know, its realy good wit some fried egg. oh and dont for the pork.” He went on and on. Zoe stood there, the warmth of the cup radiating into her hand, the warmth of her rage steadily radiating into the air. She let out a breath as she fiddled with the noodles watching the steam slowly fade as the barricade in front of her did not. She blinked and smiled a strained smile, one that clearly said, ‘gods I’d rather be anywhere else’ hoping he’d pick up on her hint. “Mmm, Hmmm.” she hummed almost instinctually. 

“oh that reminds me of this one anime where this guy teaches this girl how too…” the words fade into her ears. He’s going on it again, she thought, he’s doing that thing where he mentions how this reminds him of some anime, she stifled a chuckle as she felt him reach the end of his dialogue tree. Now he offers to watch it with me.

“Maybe we should watch it sometime.” Yea maybe. That was what she always said when he would do this, then they discussed some time, and she plans to be out of the dorm that weekend. “...i was thinkin maybe we could watch it together sometime, im free this weekend if you are, I know your realy busy.” Zoe prepared herself to perform her part of the worst dance ever, but as she fiddled her noodles she realized they have congealed into a block, despite her efforts the meager excuse for a meal she held had been rendered inedible. She stares into the brick, peering into the folds as if they were ones in her own head.

“Heyya earth to Zoe,” he snapped his fingers to grab her attention and something snapped. In an instant she dropped the waste in her hands and grabbed the waste in front of her, “woah! commin on a little strong ay?” He chuckled. She tightened her grip around his wrists. “Quite.” the words dripped out with a venom that shocked them both. Justin flinched as she twisted his arm, forcing him to the ground, “heyheyheyy!! Yacoulda jus said no!” 

“I did that last month. Then I told you I had to study. Then I told you I had already seen it, and here you are, still.” her grip tightened with the last word. 

“Hey look, your pretty strong for a girl.” he squeezed it out in a half flirty tone. A fire lit in her eyes, of all the moments to hit on someone, he chose now? With another grip she felt a slight crack as his wrist popped causing a girlish scream to erupt from him. She stopped and her grip lightened slightly, “Is that supposed to hurt me? All you’ve got are some barbed words.” She pulled him up from his knelt position, “You couldn’t if you tried.” 

She let go and felt him scramble away, only looking back to make certain she wasn’t pursuing her. Zoe stood in the hallway, hands aloft. They slowly return to her sides as she moves to kick the cup noodle to one side and closes her door with a click. She waltz over to the questionnaire and picks up the pen and fills in the last blank, 

“How would you describe your own gender identity?” 

“N/A”

Hey, psst, down here.

This is the last part that's only exposition!

Next Chapter, Zoe starts her hrt, I am so excited!

[skyxskywlkr]

I know it’s not canon so for all the little cod boys get off my dick lemme explain 🗣️🗣️🗣️

What if soap and ghost were close like how they are now in the original cod timeline. It’s getting to the end where ghost’s fate is sealed with shepherd, and before he deploys for the mission he makes Johnny promise him something.

“Soap, a word?” Ghost raised his tone to catch his old friend’s attention. “There’s my favorite Lt!”, Ghost rolled his eyes under his balaclava. “Listen to me johnny, and listen closely. I’m getting prepared to go after shepherd. Roach is assigned with me but I need you to keep me a promise.” The atmosphere was already tense when around ghost, but this was different. This time there wasn’t no drills, no training, no 141, not even no Lieutenant Ghost Riley. This was Simon Riley and he was troubled underneath.

“Look Johnny, we know what we got ourselves into when we signed up for this joint. You and me we ain’t 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 gonna make it.” As much as it hurt to admit Simon knew as well as any other he wasn’t destined to make it out of here alive, and he was okay with that. His entire life he was always ruled by law and order. From a little boy who grew up in a small home in Manchester. Trying to provide for his family by the time he was the age of 6 because they were so poor they couldn’t even afford noodles. Countless nights of hearing his mother scream because his dead beat father would always put his hands on her. It traumatized him for life, and the only thing he thought he could to get away from that was to enlist. Hell, even they didn’t want him.

“Look” Simon’s throat tightened. “Just look out for y/n when I’m gone Johnny. Tell her not to look for me, don’t try to come and find me.” At this point soap was speechless hearing this come from a man who was always stone cold to the bone. “I love her. More then anything I love the hell out of her”. Ghost reached behind his neck undoing his dog tags. “Here” he hands them over to Soap. “Ghost I- “stop” he was cut off by Simon. “Just give these to her. Protect her Johnny if any of us is getting out it’s you.” Simon puts his gloved hand on Soap. “You’re my brother” either the oxygen depleted or soap was on the verge of tears. Either way it was getting really difficult to breathe. “Y’all look out for each other, ya hear me?” It took a moment for soap to collect himself. “Of course brother” both of the boys shook hands. Not in a professional way but in a farewell my friend way. “SOAP! GHOST!” The captain diverted the attention barking across the other side of the base. “Let’s go end this, yeah Lt?” Little did soap know that was the last time he was going to see his old friend.

No, next time he seen Simon he was buried 6 feet underground of dirt with a cross that printed his identity on it. Shepherd will pay for this. Soap was going to avenge his fallen friend even if he had to go down along with the general. Once the service was over and everyone left and payed their respects, Johnny noticed you. Sitting on the concrete bench that sat next to Simon’s headstone. Soap approached you. “Hey y/n” you looked up at soap dressed up in his uniform. He took a seat next to you. Nothing but silence filled the air. “I… I can’t leave him here Johnny” you was on the verge of a mental breakdown. You wanted to scream, cry, yell. You wanted revenge. A sob left your mouth. Soap felt sorry he didn’t know what to do. A tear escaped his eye and he pulled you in for a hug. “I’m so sorry y/n. For all of it” you crumbled in Johnny’s arms. After all this time, did it have to end like this? “I have something Simon wanted me to give you” soap reached in his slacks to pull out a pair of dog tags that printed the name of your dead lover. “Here” he placed the tags in your palm and closed his hands over it. “He would have wanted you to have them” this scrap of metal was the only lasting reminder of Simon Ghost Riley. You clenched onto them. “Why’re you doing this Johnny?” There had to be an explanation behind it all. “Before shepherd’s betrayal. I gave my word to Simon I would take care of you and look after you.” Of course sounds like something Simon would make Johnny promise him. “Right. I’m sure the words of ‘don’t let her go off the rails or don’t let revenge consume her’ was in there as well”. A small laugh left soap. “Yeah something like that” he grabbed your hand and held it with a firm grip that brought your attention to his eyes. “He loved you y/n” you sniffled. The tears making it hard to inhale through your nose. “Yeah. Yeah I know”.

[writtenwyrm]

The Ascension

A Slay the Spire Story, Part 31

All Parts

Something was following me.

It wasn’t making a secret of it, either. I could feel it’s hostile intent toward me like the heat of a harsh desert sun on my skin.

I couldn’t find it, though. Despite the omnipresent malice, it seemed like the being was content to watch and hate me from a distance.

Wandering these corridors was bad enough when I was alone. Now I expected something to jump out at me around every sharp corner. My nerves were twanging with anticipation of the inevitable attack, and it was beginning to wear on me.

How long can you keep this up? The voice murmured in my mind. Not just this hidden threat, but all the others? It won’t end here. It won’t ever end.

I pushed it aside for now. I had something more important to focus on.

There were bones. Real bones, humanoid bones. Familiar and frightening in a way that the warped spines growing from the walls were not. They sat clustered in piles, propped against the walls or spread across the floor. Many of the bodies were almost fresh, still with skin stretched over their bones.

Purple robes caught on my Perception like thorns.

I stepped over, and found… myself. It was unmistakable, though none of the corpses had heads. They were my clothes, and my staffs, dropped like so many sticks, and some of them even had enough skin left to tell that they were my hands. My face.

I cycled through Calm.

Some had blindfolds on, some had short hair, some had scars marring their flesh. About half of them were decayed beyond recognition, if it hadn’t been for their clothes. All of them sat in a pile, like they’d been collected.

I stepped back. I was calm. I was calm. This was to be expected, with what I knew. This—

The others, too. Red clothes and bronze masks. Green piles of rags and broken skulls. An entire pile dedicated to what appeared to be various metallic limbs and blue glass.

There were more than just the corpses I recognized, however. A small leather collar lay among the other discarded items, with the name ‘Noodles’ embossed on the front. Scattered bodies of feathered cultists lay about, and many, seemingly normal people. Monsters, with twisting limbs and horns, long tubes, enormous claws, bat-like wings. None of them looked anything like each other.

A single small body sat up against a wall. It’s face was covered with a round, white mask. A comically large red smile was painted on it. I left that body alone.

My Perception spiked. The hostile presence that had been following me was here, now.

The ghost rose out of a pile of nearby bodies.

I backpedaled hurriedly, but a biting edge scooped against my back, preventing me from stepping further away. A long blade, held in place by an even longer staff.

“Do. Not. Leave. I Deny You.”

The creature, composed of loose green cloth topped by a yellowed, six eyed skull, looked familiar. And yet I could have sworn I’d never seen it before, at least not in this life. My mind turned to the bodies of myself, all of who had likely seen this creature, once.

“…Why can’t I go?” I questioned, projecting as much Calm into my voice as I could.

“Safe. Here.” It spoke, though I couldn’t see a mouth, as if each word were an effort. “It. Cannot. Revert Us. Here.”

My interest piqued immediately. “Who can’t?”

“Fool. God.” The creature breathed, as if amused. “It’s Power. Is. Broad. Or. Delicate. Not Both.” With a sweeping gesture of its scythe, it indicated its graveyard domain. “Those. Who Die. In. My Power. Remain. I Deny It.”

“…do they?” I took the smallest step backward again, glancing at the familiar, purple-clad bones.

“But. Not. You.” It confirmed my suspicion. “Not. You. Nor. Ironclad. Nor. Defect. Nor. Me.”

Nor me. The shape of the creature suddenly snapped into focus, the familiarity becoming clear.

“Are you… the Silent?” I asked.

It howled, sounding pained, and the scythe swooped. It crashed into a pile of bones, and they scattered across the floor. “It. Should. Have. ENDED!”

I began my battle hymn.

It didn’t even attempt to dodge. Instead, my staff sunk into the creature like I’d punched an empty pillowcase. Cloth tore, and hot air slammed into my face, rushing from the hole I’d created. I coughed, backing up, and dug a potion from my satchel. Now was as good a time as any to use it, and I chugged the white liquid, soothing my burned throat. Instantly, I felt my body begin to surge with renewed health.

It did not argue with me, or attempt to speak. Instead, it remained completely silent as it lifted its own weapon in challenge. A staff, twice as long as my own, and with a wickedly curved blade set in one end. It swung it quickly, testing me with three quick sweeps of the enormous blade. With all the time I’d spent setting up, it may have hit me, if it weren’t for the dark chain still wrapped around my waist. It snaked out like a living creature, gripping the scythe just under the blade and fixing it awkwardly to the creature’s own skull.

The distraction only lasted a moment, however. Quicker than I’d been hoping, the chain fell away, and the billowing creature dove toward me, as if intending to body-slam me into the ground.

I braced myself for impact, hurriedly switching to Calm. But Instead of colliding, it passed through me.

It swirled around me like a desert breeze, hot and rough against my skin. Its body looked as transparent and tattered as an old veil, and this time it was as insubstantial as smoke when my staff passed through it. I turned, trying not to breathe in too deeply, and found myself face to face with the business end of the scythe.

I had a new trick, though, attained from my last fight with the maw beast, and my meditation with the Ironclad afterward. Dancing back and out of the way with the grace of the Silent, I braced my feet against the crumbling wall, entered Calm, and then tensed every muscle in my body at the same moment.

The scythe met my staff, and my spine felt like I’d just tried to block a brick house, complaining from the attack. It worked, though, keeping the deadly blade at bay, and I powered through the pain.

What I wasn’t expecting was for the pain to remain. The pyramid in my satchel, ever-present and working it’s strange effect, allowing my focus to remain steady… and also keeping the self-inflicted wounds firmly stuck right at the forefront of my mind, making it difficult to think. I shook my head, like I could dislodge the effect.

I took a breath, trying to clear my mind of the pain and take action, do something, anything… and found only scorched lungs. My chest hitched, and I found myself in an uncontrolled coughing fit, trying to expel the caustic air.

It hit me again, hard. Three sweeping attacks with the butt of its weapon, throwing me to the floor.

My battle hymn saved me. I couldn’t think from the burns on my body, but the notes of my hymn remained firm and strong in my mind, giving me a way to fight back.

I suffered another swirling gale of heat-baked air, waiting, waiting—

The ghostly form before me grew clear and solid, flickering from a hazy dream into a waking nightmare.

A nightmare I could hit.

I howled the Word, gripping my staff with all the force of my battle hymn behind it, and struck.

CLEAVE

to slice apart

Metal met skull, and metal won.

As the remains of the apparition vanished around me, Divinity fading with it, I felt a flickering presence remain behind, under the shards of yellow bone.

I reached in, fingers brushing the sharp edges, and my hand closed around a familiar shape.

It was green, this time, and the razor point of its arrowhead shape cut into my fingers painfully if I wasn’t careful how I held it.

I wrapped it in bandages, and tucked it into my bag next to the other one.

I fed a piece of the skull to the white statue, and its eyes wept smoke. I almost lost the ethereal liquid in my surprise, but just barely managed to catch most of it in a jar before it floated away. I had my doubts about if the golden bark would have any effect, but when I dropped the crumbs into the jar, the mist thickened noticeably.

I was more than a little worried to drink this particular potion.

The skull wasn’t the only thing left behind, however. A few feet away, something else solid and real lay. A bag, made of rough, weathered leather. I pulled it closer to me, opting to stay sitting down instead of standing and risking falling over from exhaustion.

Inside, there were pages of yellowed notes. Bundled together with string and written by hand, I paged through them curiously, feeling over the foreign words. Heat bond and emulsify, tincture and alchemize. They described a process I didn’t really understand, but it seemed familiar somehow.

Thoughtfully, I touched the prism in my satchel, and then I looked down at the words with new eyes.

Of course I knew what these diagrams meant. I’d written them. Each carefully inscribed alchemic recipe was earned through grueling hours of test and failure, and I could see the love for my poisons in every word.

I felt guilty, tucking the writings into my new backpack. It felt like stealing, more than just the words on the paper, but the memories of the Silent. They filled my mind now, like they were my own memories, but I hadn’t done the work to earn them.

I can’t even study a document without cheating, the treacherous voice whispered in my mind.

I should throw them away. Another, even smaller voice whispered. I don’t deserve them.

But I kept them anyway. It was only going to get harder from here, and even if I didn’t deserve them, I needed every edge I could get.

I was exhausted. I was always exhausted, now. My ribs hurt when I breathed, reminding me of the blows I’d suffered, even if the potion of regeneration had softened the effect. I needed to bunker down and camp, sleep, lick my wounds.

But not here. Not next to a pile of my own corpses.

Once again, I picked myself up off the ground and started to walk.

[jeannahas]

Servant to a Trickster God

(Partially inspired by elydice)

The hill was dry and dusty, as I took another step forwards. sand, small stones, and long-dried and sun-baked bones crunched beneath my feet as I surveyed the section of the valley before me.

It was a familiar sight to me. How many times had I stood there, in my younger years? Back before the expansion, before the lunar colonies? Before that fated first contact that had led to so many desperate changes? I thought back to those simpler years before regenerative treatments, before sapient AI, before we met the brilliantly colored - if slightly smaller than us - Phylexians.

Time I had spent holding tiny cups of water and gatorade for the annual half-marathon in July. Standing there with my father and brothers, trying to keep up with the mass of runners, watching the sun rise as we waited for the leaders, looking for interesting bones among the wreckage, trash, and dust of that selfsame hill.

We had learned much, over the course of the past many decades, but still - there were things that remained less understood, less precise.

I stopped, bending down to look at a few skulls that dotted the hill. I never understood why so many things died on that hill. Bones of Coyotes and squirrels lay alongside the ruined carcases of small deer and elk, and more than one bird lay among the ruins. A graveyard of natural life, completely driven by it's own whims.

As I walked along the hill, following the old highway that had been the lifeblood of the county, I spotted a lonely skull, bleached by the sun, long abandoned. Canid, with pronounced teeth.

I recognized it. The coyotes had grown less and less frequent with each passing year - the wild animals had begun to form packs to survive the presence of the humans, and the humans had in turn hunted those packs.

I winced. 20$ an ear- my brother had tried multiple times to run one over to collect that bounty.

I squatted down in quiet mourning, setting a hand on the dried bone, closing my eyes as I fell down into the whispers, letting the echoes call back into my mind - fleeting moments, running, biting, cleaning itself under a juniper tree under the light of a moon. Pain in it's leg as it was severed by a trap.

I sighed, patting the bone lightly.

"What do do about you? He's not going to like if I leave you here."

The skull, naturally, said nothing. It sat there. Among all the other bones that decorated the bone hill, innert, patient as only the dead can be.

I tapped my chin. "Well... I don't know if he'll like this or hate this... We're kind of re-writing a lot of rules given that we've forgotten a lot of the old taboos."

I glanced at the empty leather bag I had gotten the feeling to bring along. It seemed to be about the right size...

I gently lifted the skull, and set it as safely as I could inside the sack, next to the holo-projector that my family would sometimes call on. I had shut it off, but it was still nice to have it close.

I stood then, checking my mental map. I keep walking till I began to enter among buildings, passing an abandoned KOA that was home to the only swimming pool I'd been able to access for most of my childhood, looking down at the bare concrete, remembering fondly moments with pool noodles, splashing and spraying water at my brothers, staring up at the sky during summer to make sure that thunderclouds didn't form and bear down upon us. It had been close a couple of times - but we'd always made a point to be out of the water long before the storm arrived. The place was largely a ghost town now. I was only still alive thanks to, well, the being I went to meet now - and a dash of arcane science derived from re-verse engineered aline tech - and the friends and people I had known who had lived here were...gone. In a few ways. Scattered to the winds. Living in new cities. Dead. In many cases. Wars, old age, disease... I passed the childhood homes of old friends, now run down and decrepit, and I plotted my way across remnants of asphalt streets that led to the massive red stone that stood a good three stories tall, jutting randomly from pale sandstone as if placed there. The Red Rock had been one of the constants of the valley, as well as Temple Rock, that stood just a short distance away. Relatively. A mile or so.

I had a specific destination in mind today - a place of borders, of transitions - a place where I had very nearly died, and stumbled upon something truly unexpected.

There were whispers, now, about the "old gods." Of people with strange gifts, of strange things happening, people disappearing, strange cults people hadn't seen for thousands of years popping up again at random. Most didn't believe them. Why would you when extraterrestrial beings taught you science from beyond the stars, and tried to find a place for you in their massive federation? I however, knew better. I had been forced to know better. He had given me no choice.

I followed the rock until the smooth exterior suddenly fell back into a thin slot - about the width of three people standing next to each other, that led up into a canyon. One of my first dates. My first death.

My mouth quirked up here. Ah, how fate can be a strange tutor.

I began to walk along the sandy bottom, long since dried up, but I knew the monsoon season wasn't far away, and it would be a simple thing for a drizzle to turn this entire canyon into a mess of mud and water, for the bright afternoon light to be replaced with the overbearing dim of a desert thunderstorm. Too shallow to be truly life-threatening, but hazardous to be sure. I climbed, searching for the meeting place, a sandy bar about half way up where I had the feeling I needed to go.

I head it again - a little louder, the laughing on the wind, a faint echo of a tinny howl. I suppose it could be called a howl - it was what we called it there, the sounds of the Coyotes. I was getting close now, and the needs for speed and caution clashed in my brain, as I tried to protect the leather bag that held the coyote's skull, keeping it from banging against rocks as I ascended a ledge that had been narrow in my youth many years distant.

The strange howling laughter grew louder as I climbed, and I now moved with purpose, almost launching myself up, Nearly stumbling off of the cliff, the skull spilling out of my bag and thudding onto the sand of the ledge, I righted myself, scrambling on hands and knees away from the edge, pausing for a moment to catch my breath, chest heaving as I leaned on my knees after that particular ledge.

I looked up and nearly toppled off the edge, as a mouth full of canid fangs waited immediately in front of me.

The ghostly laugh echoed in my mind again, and I watched as the shadow after-image of the animal danced around the space, seeming to be in one place, then another, shifting and changing, in size, nature, intensity, health, transparency, and every other metric. before "settling" more or less in one place, still flickering, as if my eyes were playing tricks on me. It's head was oddly translucent, seeming to be there. and not, and in those moments, I could see the skull at it's center, the skull of the long-dead coyote.

I bowed my head, cautious, but still elated to actually see him again - my patron, my tutor of sorts, more real than I had ever envisioned, despite our many conversations, the many gifts he had shown and given me.

Have you come to see another trick?

"You know that when we meet, this is my purpose, Coyote."

The strange, etherial coyote seemed to pick at a tooth with a claw, before dancing away again in an impossible contortion of muscle and imagery, before pacing around me.

You always watch for our tricks - listen to the stones - listen to the lessons.

"You always have more to share - what else am I to do but try to understand?"

Coyote laughed again, and I still didn't know if the sound unsettled or comforted me, even after all of these years.

You're people have built more sky-ships, they leave this world.

I nodded. "They have. "

Will you leave this world? Travel to new worlds?

"I don't know if I can." I said simply. "It doesn't seem to be my lot in life to leave and travel for the stars - besides, aren't your kind tied deeply to our perceptions? To the places we have tied you to, the locations of importance?"

I thought of the canyon. Not this one, the canyon of the cursed, the people this fun-loving creature had turned to stone in a violent fit of rage and pain. Our próximo y to that place was the main reason he could manifest like this to me, and actually manipulate the skull he now used as a head- and it was also the reason I had head about him as a child, had known his name, had known his domains.

Coyote laughed again, before snarling as if facing some beast.

formed by mind of man - given power - able to influence...yes....beleif....your beleif...... we depend on this. All gods do, from the small to the great.

I sat down, as was our custom when we spoke, doing my best to keep my footprints obscured, to prevent Coyote from doing something to me while we discussed. He had...set precedents, during previous visits. He taught me the importance of things people left behind, ways your could mess with someone who drew a line in the dirt, who left their name on a wall. It only took once of waking up four hours later under a moonlit sky with no bearing on my location to be more diligant about where and how I stepped - and how I obscured my footprints.

"What would it take for your to leave this place? You like to wander, would you not like to wander the stars as well?"

I would speak to the god of ravens, Coyote began And he would not tell me - to the great protector I spoke again, and he would not tell me. To the invader gods of your ancestors I spoke, and they did not know, that which lied beyond the stars. They knew their children - and those who called themselves their children, and that alone was their domain.

I blinked.

"Uh huh."

Coyote sat, and waited. I blinked, he was sitting next to me, his golden eyes locked on my own.

We go where our children - where our prophets, go.

I paused. Never once had this creature referred to me as anything other than it's student.

"Are the children of Coyote many?"

They are some. They are fewer than they were. I am now weaker than many - but stronger than those who have been largely forgotten. I am remembered still - I am revered still - I am feared still.

I swallowed. I knew why. I had spoken to the ghosts inside the stones of that canyon - had heard the agonized cries of hundreds of people who had offended the creature who now sat seemingly calmly beside me. I never could ask what their offense had been. They never told me. Their minds were too far gone for that, shattered and splintered as stones broke off with time and fell into the canyon, to be washed away with the monsoon rains, and swept down into the barely -living town below.

Why had Coyote told me this? What did he want?

"What do you mean you spoke to the god of Ravens? Do you mean Raven, your brother?"

Coyote laughed again, and flickered, walking sideways on the wall, then bounding across the sand, kicking it up where he passed.

He sees that which will be - he alters that which will be, He is not raven, he speaks truths which must be.

I waited. Coyote continued after licking his behind.

All the speaker of ravens would say, was that I am bound to my children - and my children are free.

I frowned, glancing down at my bag, at the holo-projector. I thought of the indigenous peoples of this continent, how they had been enslaved, but their spirits, the projection of their collective souls, had been weakened over generations, unable to help or defend them from their enemies in a way that mattered.

"You're going to ask me to do something I won't like, aren't you." I stated it, I could see it.

I saw the mirth in his eyes, and I groaned internally.

Five weeks later, with a different name and wearing a different face, I stepped aboard the Phylaxian starship 'T'klalo'. We were leaving - Coyote said he wanted to visit mars, said that "Red Stone was familiar". I brought a few things - a tuft of fur. That skull of a coyote I found on the bone-hill outside the old town I had called home. One of the ghost- rocks from that canyon, full of people he had cursed. A few scraps of a former life as I breathed oddly stale air, surrounded by wealthy people and strange, violet-skinned and vaguely humanoid aliens with pronounced spines we had learned were venomous.

There were several steps to this plan. Make it to the Red Planet. Find a suitable place the Terraforming had already finished with - build a shrine as best as I could. In part to Coyote, to become his first place of Power, his first tether. But also...to me. My family. I had paintings to leave on walls, memories to leave behind. Most had passed on - there were few of us lef.

That would anchor him to that world, be Coyote's first step, the first great projection of the subconscious of the human existence to wander out into the wider universe along side us, actively, alongside one of their representatives, able to access their power. He felt that the other shamans who still venerated and called upon him would be able to "Hold the fort and keep the link active" back on earth. He planned on bringing all kinds of gossip.

Coyote had mischief to wreak, and how he had three entire species to wreak it upon.

Through me.

I let myself grin -

Just a little.

I already knew from experience, that as hard as this was going to be,

It was also going to be immensely fun.

[thehungrykat1]

The Cheng Dynasty Hotpot Offers Unlimited Hotpot, Sushi, Buffet and Teppanyaki

There's a new hotpot restaurant in Quezon City that's currently the talk of the town with its majestic interiors and luxurious hotpot menu that also includes a buffet and other premium add-on sets which makes its truly fit for royalty. The Hungry Kat was invited to try out one of the hottest new dining destinations in the city so I was more than ready to pay a visit to The Cheng Dynasty.

The Cheng Dynasty is a new Szechuan and Japanese hotpot restaurant that recently had its Grand Opening just a few weeks ago. You can find it along N.S. Amoranto Street (formerly Retiro) near the corner of Banawe Avenue where a lot of foodies go to find great dining places. If the character in their logo looks a bit familiar, that's because the restaurant is named after one of it's owners - toy and sneaker collector, DJ, vlogger, scion of the country's biggest foam producer Uratex, and now restaurateur, Big Boy Cheng.

The restaurant comes with an opulent but casual vibe, with most of the interiors in bright red and gold colors. There's plenty of tables for small and big groups, which is how a fun hotpot dining experience should be with.

There's also a semi private room at the back of the restaurant which houses some of Big Boy's personal artwork and art collection. Big Boy Cheng is a very prominent art collector and his Ronac Art Center in San Juan showcases contemporary art and pop culture displays.

The Cheng Dynasty Hotpot comes with several All You Can Eat options depending on your preference. The most basic set is the Terracotta (₱599) which offers their unlimited hotpot menu and is available from 11:00am to 5:00pm on weekdays and from 10:30pm to 1:00am daily.

The first thing to do with hotpot is to prepare your sauce. The Cheng Dynasty has a station where you can customize your choice of ingredients, but you can also request for their special sauce if you're not sure what you like.

Now it's time to try their hotpot! There's a time limit of two hours for each diner, but that's more than enough time to cook and enjoy all these delicious items from meats, vegetables, balls, and noodles. Just check the boxes of the dishes that you want to order and the server will bring these to you on a golden trolley.

We ordered some of our favorite items like the US Fatty Beef, Lean Beef Tenderloin, Shrimp, Squid, Smoked Duck Breast, Beef Balls, Lobster Balls, Golden Cheese Balls, Crab Roe Bomb, Golden Mushroom, and more.

You can also choose from their eight soup bases. The great thing about The Cheng Dynasty is that their hotpot bowls are all in individual sizes, so each diner can choose his own broth flavor. No need to share the pot with everyone else.

I chose the Tonkotsu soup base which has a flavorful broth made from pork bones. Just put your hotpot ingredients inside the golden bowls and wait for them to start boiling. It's as easy as that.

My husband ordered the Beef Sate soup base which comes with a meatier and saltier flavor. I really want to try their other flavors so I will surely do that on my next visit.

If you are feeling really hungry, another menu option is their Weekend Terracotta (₱699) which is available for lunch on weekends and includes unlimited hotpot PLUS an all you can eat Buffet selection.

It's rare to find a hotpot restaurant that also comes with a buffet, but The Cheng Dynasty lets you have all the tempura, tonkatsu, and chicken karaage that you want.

There are also plenty of other cooked dishes like the Lo Ba Chinese Braised Pork Belly, shrimp sotanghon, egg fried rice, and more.

If you want an even bigger buffet selection, head over to The Cheng Dynasty Hotpot from 6:00pm to 10:30pm for their Dinner Terracotta (₱899) where you can get unlimited hotpot and buffet PLUS as many trips as you want to the Sushi Station.

Aside from the aburi sushi, truffle maki, mani salad rolls, and other sushi variants, you can also get unlimited servings of the premium Scallop Gunkan and the Hunan Style Spicy Salmon and Salad.

If that is still not enough for you, then go for the Samurai (₱999) set which features all these unlimited hotpot, buffet, and sushi PLUS Unlimited Teppanyaki!

Choose from among the following teppanyaki dishes that will be cooked upon order: Miso Butter Beef Enoki, Pork Yakiniku, Salmon Yakiniku, Beef Pinsu, Shrimp and Garlic, Yasai Itami, and even Angus Beef Chahan.

I was already quite full so I wasn't able to try all of the teppanyaki options, so I'm surely coming back to sample these other tempting dishes. The Angus beef chahan will be first on my list next time.

Now if all those delicious and sumptuous items still leave you wanting more, then go for the ultimate menu that is fit for an emperor. The Emperor's Feast (₱1,299) comes with all those unlimited items mentioned above PLUS unlimited Shao Kao and a single serving from their Star Selection. Shao Kao are Chinese skewers which are grilled upon order. You can enjoy a selection of unlimited barbecued meats, balls, and vegetables that will be served and cooked on a skewer. It' a different way to experience eating these items that are usually just served for hotpot.

That's not all because the Emperor's Feast also lets each person get one serving of their deluxe Star Selection menu. You can order the Premium Sashimi Set which comes with salmon, ebi, and scallop sashimi. You can get your money's worth with just this dish alone.

Another option is the Emperor Cheng's Dragon Roll which has a tempura roll topped with unagi and salmon roe.

The Abalone in Chicken Essence with Crunchy Noodles is another premium dish you can order with your Star Selection. These exquisite abalone are beautifully plated on top of crispy noodles and doused with a special chicken sauce before being served.

We were all so full and satisfied from our hotpot, buffet, and teppanyaki lunch at The Cheng Dynasty, but there was one more activity waiting for us. The owners of the restaurant also placed a small room inside the restaurant that featured their other passion, Drip Art! All About Art PH has a studio at Secret Fresh inside RONAC Art Center in San Juan where kids and adults alike can enjoy drip painting and art activities. They decided to put a small branch here so that guests waiting for their tables or those too full to leave can have another activity to share with the family.

These DIY kits will give the artist inside everyone a chance to shine and sparkle. I had never done this kind of painting before so I was excited to have my first drip painting experience here at The Cheng Dynasty.

First, choose your figure. The price of your DIY kit depends on the figure you choose and its size. Next, choose three different paint colors that you can mix together or separately on a bowl. Lastly, pour the paint slowly on the figure, making sure all the corners and crevices are covered. That's it! The staff will then box these since it takes a few days to totally dry. Drip painting is a great bonding activity that can be enjoyed with friends and family so check out their Facebook and Instagram @allaboutartph if you want to know more.

The Cheng Dynasty Hotpot is truly a fantastic addition to the ever growing foodie destinations along Banawe Avenue and Quezon City. The luxurious interiors and the premium dishes will surely make you feel like an emperor yourself. I suggest you make reservations first before going because the lines can get pretty long, so send them a message and book your tables now.

Cheng Dynasty Hotpot

625 N.S. Amoranto St. , Quezon City

(0917) 159-7877

www.facebook.com/chengdynastyhotpotph

Instagram: @chengdynastyhotpotph

[nctsworld]

the yuletide boyfriend

✩‌ yangyang ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | ‌college au | 9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.  

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.    

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.  

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.  

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.  

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.  

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.  

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.  

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.  

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.  

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:  

“WISHLIST:   -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.  

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.  

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.  

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.  

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.  

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.  

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.  

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.  

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.  

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.  

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.  

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.  

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”  

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”  

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.  

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.  

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.  

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.  

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.  

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.    

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.  

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.  

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.  

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.  

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.  

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.  

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”  

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.  

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.  

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.  

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.  

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.  

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side,  ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.  

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.  

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.    

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.  

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.  

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.  

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”  

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.  

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.  

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.  

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.  

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.  

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.  

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.  

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.  

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.  

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.  

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.  

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.  

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.  

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.  

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time. 

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”  

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping. 

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile.  “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.  

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”  

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.  

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”  

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.  

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

[seodami]

Gym surprises | KTH

Genre: Fluff, simping, (((suggestive???no?)))

Warning: thirsting over muscles, being awkward, mentioning of sweat

Word count: 1376

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader (gn)

Note: so so I just imagined going to the same gym as Taehyun after watching talk x today and he would honestly be a great gym buddy fr love his determination! Go go Taehyun!✨ anyways please don’t sexualise him I just think he has been working great on himself and has great physics! He is really working hard!

Main Masterlist

Sweat was dripping down your forehead, over the bridge of your nose onto your fitted red sport shirt. You quickly let go of the handles, belonging to the hanging leg raise workout equipment of your local gym. You tried standing.

Your feet were still wobbly from the previous exercise, now having to mainly focus on the intense pain in your abdominal muscles. With a quick movement you grabbed your small towel and dabbed away the fresh sweat on your face. A long sip of water closely followed.

Still with heavy breathing, trying to calm yourself down, you took a glance around the almost vacant gym. There were not many people around at this hour. Most people decided to come near the afternoon.

There was an older woman running on the track mill, humming softly to the tunes played from her headphones you believed. She obviously tried to block out the fast energizing sounds from the gyms speakers. You never minded them, being too occupied with your own thoughts anyway.

Further on the side, there was a very muscular man, working further on his biceps and triceps, even though they probably already had the size of your head. There were some actual gym monsters here. You and your noodle arms couldn’t even dare to compare. But you still wanted to keep fit and sporty, not being the next bodybuilder.

Your eyes moved towards the fully mirrored wall. Your eyes froze upon a head full of reddish hair. And an extremely attractive backside of a young man, probably around your age. Instead of being the decent human being, you should probably be, your eyes watched attentively how his muscles tensed at the impact of the weightlifting. His arms were smaller than the guy before but they looked just right on him. You already admired his hard working spirit.

To put it into words: this guy was absolutely goddamn attractive in your eyes. He had a determined look on his face, his dyed sweaty hair was sticking to his forehead. Besides that, his facial features were just heavenly. Eyes as big as coins and a defined jawline, sharp nose.

When your eyes met his suddenly in the mirror, it struck to you how long you must’ve stared at the stranger. You immediately averted your gaze, anywhere else. Oh look, what a nice water dispenser and wow, nice sweat stain on your shirt. The incoming blush on your face didn’t make it any easier.

Suddenly remembering you still haven’t finished your set, you moved up your recently used machine, propping your back up against the backside and started moving your legs upwards. You just prayed that he didn’t just catch you staring at him so obviously and that wasn’t looking at you now. Why was your life so humiliating sometimes?

When you finished your set, you quickly moved machines, just thinking about moving out of his eye sight radius. To your disadvantage, you didn’t think clearly about where to go next, resulting in you awkwardly trying to find out how to work this machine in particular, you never happened to use before. Really humiliating Y/N, actually!

No matter how hard you tried to move it, it didn’t budge by the impact. Not even an inch. This was just your lucky day. You were on the verge of quitting this unexplainable weird machine and moving on, when you suddenly heard a voice next to you.

“Do you maybe need help with this?” Your head whipped in lightning speed towards the source of the soft voice, to your shock swing the blond haired attractive guy in front of you. He now had a grey towel hanging from his shoulder and a water bottle in his hand. The strands of his hair were still sticking on his damp forehead. You nearly choked from pure air, being in such close proximity to him. From up close, he looked even more handsome.

Your eyes went wide, struggling to say anything. Your head was like cotton candy, nothing wise seemed to come out. You remembered faintly croaking out a strained and way too high ‘yes please’, when he started to explain you what you did wrong. You subconsciously held your breath, having him bend over to the front of the machine to adjust the settings more fitting to you.

“It’s a tricky machine, honestly. I wouldn’t have understood it either without a coaches help.” He explained, his hand now resting on his hip bone. You noticed the thick veins along his strong muscular arm, making you literally wanna hold onto them.

You looked up to him again. He had a gentle smile on his face. “Is it now better? You need to move this up in order to begin- yes just like that - perfect” he watched you finally being able to move on your own. You sighted in relieve, giggling slightly in embarrassment.

“Thank you, oh god I must’ve looked so embarrassing.” He looked down swiftly on the ground before shaking his head laughing lightly. “No it’s all good. Not many people use this machine in the first place. I’m glad to help.”

“You didn’t say it wasn’t embarrassing.” You chuckled, nervously trying to avert your gaze onto his shoes. He giggled childlike, not fitting to his first impression exactly, but still making you feel giddy. “Well, it looked a bit funny but it was cute.” He grinned cheekily. You flushed even harder, trying to persuade yourself that it was only looking like you just had finished a heavy workout.

“Hey, if you have any more questions about equipment or else wise, I’m right over there. Don’t feel shy to ask.” He pointed pack to the place in front of the mirror, he was standing before. His other hand reached for his neck as he send you a last smile, seeing as you nod and thank him again.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the typical symptoms of an incoming crush. In the corner of your eye you saw him get into position again. Your eyes met again for a swift moment before you both looked away. Were you really that easy to be swooned? Yes you were.

Half an hour and three more exercises machines later, you finally figured out a plan inside your tiny head. You couldn’t just let this chance slip away like the other ones. You were a goddamn strong woman who can pursue her own desires. And you were feeling surprisingly bold after this small encounter, so why not giving it a shot? The worst thing could happen was that you need to change gyms. You could live with that.

So after finally collecting all your courage you possibly could have, you went to the counter, asking for a piece of paper and a pen, quickly writing your phone number and name in large letters.

With a last deep breath, your feet carried you over to the other end of the gym, where the attractive boy was now working hard on the lat pulldown machine. Standing in front of him, you suddenly felt shy again, twiddling with your fingers.

He stopped to greet you again with a bright smile. Without much overthinking, you pressed the small piece of paper in his sweaty hand. He looked up to you with big sparkling eyes as if you should elaborate.

“Just...just you know, if I need anymore advices.” You managed to say, feeling your cheeks warm up once again. Before he could reply anything, you already muttered out a high pitched ‘bye’ and turned around to head towards the changing cabins. You gathered your belongings and left without making a scene or embarrassing you even further. Your whole car ride home was filled with doubtful discussions with yourself.

What you didn’t saw, was his relieved gentle smile after he opened the folded piece of paper, finding your phone number and name on it. Y/N...

So instead of having a shower on top of his priority to do list after going to the gym today, it changed to texting your number with the best feeling of confidence in his system.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 31

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L  Warnings: Language, smoking weed, shitty parenting, mentions of death A/N: more of a filler but it helps establish stuff. *unbeta'd

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 31: Drowning on Dry Land

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The week before her flight back, Matthew’s parents invited her over for dinner.

Waiting to greet them at the door was Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin. Matthew’s father, a Half-Maj, was a Potioneer while his mother, an Old-Maj, was a Court Scribe. They wore large, kind smiles as Mrs. Gaplin pulled her into a tight, crushing hug.

After pleasantries, she and Matthew kicked off their shoes while his parents ushered them to the dining room.

“How are you darling? '' Mrs. Gaplin asked, floating plates in their direction as everyone began helping themselves to food. “Matt wouldn’t stop talking about you since we knew y’were coming.”

She side-eyed Matthew who groaned loudly. “Did not!”

“Sure thing,” she added, which caused Matthew to slump in his chair as his parents laughed at him.

It was a nice, charming evening; filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations. His parents continued to gloat about Mathew’s achievements that he hadn’t told her. It caused him to almost get up and run out of the room from embarrassment before moving to boast about Y/N. Even Mr. Gaplin asked her regarding her OWLs which pleasantly surprised her.

A few times, Mr. Gaplin pressed a few cheeky kisses to his wife’s face as Matthew made loud retching noises.

“Disgusting!”

Mr. Gaplin laughed. “Ya sixteen. Suck it up.”

“But you’re still my baby!” Mrs. Gaplin cooed, getting up to collect the plates.

Matthew tried to look insulted but she could see the small smile that threatened his lips as jealousy nipped at her toes.

The next few days were spent staying at the Gaplin household. Matthew’s parents insisted constantly that she should stay over so they could utilize the little time they had left before leaving. At first, the idea made her feel intrusive. Although, her mother hadn’t returned to the brownstone house, preferring to sleep in the on-call rooms at the Brooklyn Memorial Hospital. It quickly got lonely and boring before Y/N finally agreed. Besides, Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin were only around for breakfast and dinner - working for the day but never failed to return; always wearing larger smiles than the previous night.

They made her feel welcomed and warm - even taking her and Matthew to the local pictures. They included her in everything, even their trivia and board games after dinner.

It was quite the change compared to her family life.

Then an identical routine ensued. She would wake up, get ready for the day; spend hours with Matthew; then twilight fell as they stayed awake into the early hours of the morning.

The day before she was due to leave, she and Matthew ran up to his room after dinner. He went to lean on top of the small coffee table, rolling up a joint as she collected her possessions scattered around his room; not wanting to leave it for the last minute.

“Fancy some grass?” He asked in a poor British accent.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “But thanks love.”

Mathew’s smile turned bashful as he stood, turning on the radio in the background. She moved to open his window which was just above the roof of his shed as she stepped out with steady feet. Perching herself down on the blankets and pillows they hauled outside the night prior, she stared at the glowing city splayed in front. From the window, The Velvet Underground flowed softly.

Matthew proceeded to hop out, sauntering over as he threw a flirtatious wink.

“Brough this,” he said, tossing the camera he’d taken from her bag. She caught it as he nestled beside her and lit the joint; placed in his mouth. Billows of smoke clouded around them while she snapped a few photos of the view.

“Ya sure you gotta leave?” Matthew whined, embers of the end of the joint sparking with another huff. “Maybe you can smuggle me. Shove me into that trunk.”

She pulled the camera away from her face, inhaling the earthy, pungent scent. Her head felt a bit lightheaded from it. “A hardcore criminal at sixteen?”

Matthew was mildly amused until a troublesome look passed through his features. “Um — name something ya miss most about home.”

Home. What a funny word — place — feeling. Home was supposed to be something that made your heart glow, feel warm and happy — by that definition, a year ago home would’ve been her little house back in Toronto with the beautiful maple trees swaying in the backyard. Or home would’ve been Ilvermorny and its tall ivory walls. But now, London, or maybe just Hogwarts, had become her home. The scrolls around the Herbology greenhouse, the library, sneaking around past curfew; the Black Lake, Hogsmeade — Lily, James, Marlene, Dorcas, Remus, Regulus…

Unsure of what to say, she opted for, “You?”

Matthew rolled his eyes, bringing the joint to his lips. “Real charmer.” Then, smoke surrounded them. “But really.”

“Why?”

“C’mon! I need an answer! — I don’t know… say somethin’ like… lobstah.”

She chuckled. “Lobster? Really?”

“Or coffee from ya regular cafe.”

Deliberating it for a second, lips tugged up. “Coffee Crisp.”

He snorted. “A candy bar? Really?”

“Or Ketchup chips. Haven’t seen them in London yet.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

And then the silence returns but it makes Matthew shuffle in his spot. He blurted out, “Go — more brit insight.”

Y/N felt a bit hazy from the secondhand smoke. “More? You’ll get bored.”

“I won’t,” Matthew replied quickly, sounding oddly sincere. “Please, just… go on. Tell me everything.”

“Um… a friend of mine says crikey a lot. I think it just means to be mildly surprised? — They don’t say bloody or blimey as much as you’d think… Oh! Tea — they really drink that much tea. Also —”

Continuing, Matthew shut off again, going completely silent — not once speaking up or adding funny commentary; only staring at her, simply watching.

“Okay,” she turned to take the joint from his hand, “You're freaking me out. Spill, what's up?”

“S’nuthing.”

Whack!

“Jeez! Would ya stop wiv that! Gonna kill me…”

“Spill.”

“Fine! It’s just that…'' Matthew shifted, obscuring his face. Maybe if she didn’t feel so fuzzy, or if there wasn’t the smoke coming from the blunt or her small headache forming, she would’ve picked up on all the little signs. “It’s just —” he sighed, “I wanna hear ya talk — commit it to memory.”

“Obsessed with me? Not new.”

But that seemed to trouble him more. “It’s just… I don’t know if or when I’ll hear it again…” He looks up to the city in front. “Ya my… best friend. Could never forget ‘bout ya, but s’hard — keepin’ in touch.”

She pats him, encouraging and smiling. Her voice was hopeful, so much so that it made Matthew’s lip quirk up. “We’ll find each other. Always.” She said simply. “You and me, we’re like… salt and pepper. Soap and water — Hansel and Gretel!”

“Fuckin’ Dr. Seuss,” he smiled, that worried look fading away.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The warm summer breeze flowed around them, just as the sun peeked above the airport. Expanse, clear skies with blue mingled with deep purples and pinks shimmered against the metal from the building.

“Gonna miss ya,” Matthew muttered into the crown of her head. Her mother didn’t want him to come, but Y/N simply ignored that request as he came to send her off.

“Don’t get mushy on me now,” she joked but felt her throat become tight.

“Betta get goin’ — Doc’s lookin’ like she’s ‘bout to butcher me if ya don’t.”

She snickered, pushing Matthew’s shoulder as she picked up her bags, walking backwards while waving. “Write me!”

“Course I will! Until next time!”

“Till next time!”

Once the plane took off, awkwardness swelled among the two women. Not once had her mother said anything to her — not to apologize or see how she was doing — although they never really did talk much. Honestly, she half-expected her to leave her in New York with the Gaplins. Easy to dispose of her.

The next few days Y/N, poorly, attempted to fix her sleeping schedule. It was a miracle that she managed to get up before dinner as her head poked into the master bedroom.

She cleared her throat, feeling herself swaying in place. “Um — hi. I’m making dinner tonight.”

Her mother was dressed in a simple, yet sleek dress. She was bent over, putting on high heels as she looked up.

“The hospital is throwing a party for me — the surgery was a success.”

“That’s amazing! Er — will you be back for dinner though? It’s just that I leave soon and... two parties are better than one.”

She considered her for a long time, eyes mostly distracted by her hair slowly changing to a different colour.

“Sure. But I have to go now.”

“Right, sorry, have fun.”

Thudding down the stairs and the door clicking shut, she followed not too long after. Making her way to the kitchen, she picked up a dusty cooking book, blowing off the dust and cracked it open; flicking through the pages.

Deciding on the seemingly easy noodle dish, she rushed out of the house to the local grocery shop for ingredients. It would be the first time they would be spending any time together. It had to be perfect. But she overestimated that no matter how closely she stuck with the dishes’ instructions, the outcome was a disaster.

The noodles somehow were rock hard. The sauce she made looked grey and was chunky, similar to badly mixed concrete and it tasted horrid. At one point, even the stove exploded into flames as she had to grab her wand and use magic to extinguish the fire.

Potions... She could use a cauldron, use multiple ingredients, make some of the most complicated spells and even had tricks of her own to make the process easier but she couldn’t make a simple dish…

Her face screwed together as she glanced up to the clock; she was going to come home soon as the dinner she made was disastrous. She panicked, cleaning up everything in a rush and decided to order food.

Waiting patiently at the dinner table, her eyes fluttered up to the clock in anticipation. She felt giddy, a surge of excitement rattling throughout her bones at the prospect. Her mother wanted to spend time with her! And she should be home any minute.

But then a minute turned to two, then five, ten, twenty, thirty — then an hour ticked by.

And then another.

Y/N got up, her chair squeaking loudly. Losing all her appetite, she went to her room, sleeping in early.

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August 20th, 1976

Going through the potential NEWT courses she could take was the highlight of her day. The possibilities were endless.

Wanting to take Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations and most of all, Potions, left her excited for the school year.

But the more she thought about the upcoming school year or potential courses, she was left to contemplate what ther5 future entailed.

Was she ready to give up magic? Something that fundamentally altered her life and moulded her into what she was? Magic was her essence, something she developed and nurtured — but to put her life in danger…

Rethinking that word again: home… Was London her home? Was she willing to leave, move again to be safer? But practicing magic around the world these days for New-Majs was dangerous. Or the potential danger she would put her mother in if she continued with it?

But magic… Maybe home wasn’t necessarily a place — but rather something she carried. In all sense, magic made her heart glow, feel warm, safe and happy — it felt like what home was supposed to feel like. And the idea of being ripped away from it, forcing herself to live a normal, Muggle life…

Magic was home.

So die, but have what she cared and loved most was by her side or live a dull life without magic — ensuring her life would be miserable.

There was a clicking of shoes in the hallway that snapped her out of her thoughts. Her mother came walking by.

Lips smushed shut into a tight line, still annoyed from the other night but was determined to spend some time with one another.

“I was planning to go to Diagon Alley for the first time — to get my textbooks... '' She stood awkwardly. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I can’t,” she replied, so quickly that it had Y/N almost scoff in disbelief. “Work. But have fun.”

She sighed but still waved her off and said a small, ‘I love you, stay safe.’ Her mother only gave her a look, something unreadable and left without a word. With a heavy heart, she grabbed her purse filled with gold and left for Diagon Alley.

Passing through the Leaky Cauldron was an adventure in itself. The shabby, tiny pub was jammed with wizards and witches zipping by.

Diagon Alley was bustling with so much magic she could feel it pumping through her blood. Students were hypnotized by the shiny new Firebolt on display; others were giggling, running around with shopping bags while older witches and wizards took a scroll. Her head turned in every direction; walking into the Apothecary, a potions ingredients and book shop.

Emmeline was there. She gave a tight-lipped smile which she returned.

Emmeline by every definition was nice, extremely kind and neither girl ever had a problem with the other. James was the problem and Y/N would gladly stay out of their feud.

Passing clamouring students, she managed to get all her supplies but stopped in front of the potion ingredients. She took a few minutes, flicking through the Advance Potions textbook and grabbed everything listed needed for most of the potions.

She made her way around Diagon Alley, going through many shops. The shelves were stacked high to the ceiling with books and materials. She spent more time than necessary there but it was beautiful.

As she was paying for her Herbology textbook, a large boom! rumbled the ground. Y/N took her bags, ready to sprint to the Leaky Cauldron but the shouts caught everyone’s attention.

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” A crowd of witches and wizards shouted. Their wands were transformed into microphones as a few shot fireballs up in the air.

“What’s happening?” A woman asked an old wizard. He only shook his head, grabbing a copy of the Daily Prophet, handing it to the witch.

On the front page, there were moving photos of people protesting, similar to the wizards and witches currently shouting.

‘Protests Break out in Light of Muggleborns and Halfbloods Burned Alive

Voldemort and his followers have been attacking Muggleborn and ‘blood traitor' families with the usage of fire. By burning them alive, or their houses. They bonded the witch or wizard with magic, making it impossible to apparate or leave their houses. Their broken wands were found at the scene.

Since then, protests all around Britain and Scotland have broken out. The Ministry of Magic —’

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” The crowd chanted.

Rage filled every inch of her body as she stomped out of Diagon Alley.

If she wanted to stay in the magical world, she had to be the greatest at whatever she did, because if she wasn’t, someone of her status was never going to get anywhere.

Magic was home, and she wasn’t going to let them take it from her. She didn’t want to surrender. They weren’t going to take that away from her.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Immediately after Diagonal Alley, she began working; taking in her thoughts from earlier to heart.

Making sure to cover any windows from prying eyes, Y/N fiddle with first with new charms. Still unassured by her abilities in Charms, she considered taking another class before realizing all the different routes it led to. To become a Healer, Auror or Potioneer, she needed Charms.

Multiple charms backfired, causing them to ricochet off the walls, leaving a dent or chipping the wallpaper.

After trying out more than half the Charms in the book, there was one spell in particular that she attempted to cast many times, but without fail, was never able to properly cast it. Frustrated, her hand made a sharp flick and the spell spurted out instantly.

She tried again with the same hand gesture. To her astonishment, the charm produced easily. Quickly, she jotted down the note in her book.

Next, she glossed over her Transfigurations and Defense Against the Dark Arts book until her eyes caught onto the word: werewolf.

She learned briefly about werewolves, but that was in third year. And now that she knew a werewolf, it would be good to rehash it.

A werewolf, also known as a Lycanthrope, is a non-magical or magical being who transforms under the rising of the full moon. However, non-magical beings have a greater risk of dying rather than turning.

As the name suggests, werewolves are closely related to the non-magical animal, wolves. However, they have distinct characteristics that make them easily identifiable from wolves.

She flipped the page.

Wolfsbane flowers are poisonous to the non-magical world but it has been proven to have no effects on werewolves like they do on wolves. Werewolves are immune from the poison they emit and there are reports that Wolfsbane flowers help alleviate symptoms.

She underlined that section.

It’s a uniquely magical illness known to spread by saliva and blood. Werewolves are dangerous, blood-thirsty beasts — she flipped the page.

They cannot choose to transform and will no longer retain their human mind. Given the opportunity, they would slaughter their loved ones — flipped the page.

A mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to bites help seal bite wounds. It’s also commonly put in liquid and digested in anticipation of full moons to help with the symptoms of transforming.

Y/N’s face scrunched as she continued to read.

There is no known cure Potion used to help treat lycanthropy.

She felt oddly intrusive knowing parts about Remus’ condition. But then questions arose. How were there no Potions of any kind there to help werewolves during their transformation?

Pushing the thought away, she turned to the cauldron, picking a potion to brew. They all were fairly easy, some she’d even done before just by playing around. But one potion that grabbed her attention was Draught of Living Death. Even at Ilvermorny, that potion was notoriously difficult.

Starting up the cauldron, she grabbed hold of the sopophorous bean. However, it kept jumping when she tried to cut it. She quickly resorted to another method, running down to her kitchen and grabbing the handheld garlic press, placing the bean inside, squishing it down as so much juice spurted out, even going all over her clothing.

The potion turned into the light lilac like suggested. But then as she stirred, her potion quickly became ruined as she restarted immediately.

Hours ticked by; several items in her room were Transfigured into cauldrons, as she poured the existing solution into the nine other cauldrons as she conducted her experiment.

Stirring counterclockwise was a sham, so she stirred clockwise. Nothing, the potion went bad. The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise and then clockwise, alternating between every stir. It showed promising progress before it turned a bright red after the seventh stir, bubbling over.

The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise, then clockwise after the seventh stir as the potion turned a pink pale. That’s what the book said would happen. She quickly cleared the rest of the cauldrons, pouring in the pink liquid just in case.

She continued to stir until it became a clear liquid. Surely, that was good enough but she could never be sure. After all, she didn’t know if this was what it was supposed to look like.

Deeply immersed, she hadn’t realized how late it got.

She laid on her bed, her light on as she read the scribbles on the margins of the books she'd penned. The textbook was outdated and everything she’s written down, there were easier ways to perform spells, create Potions and more. The other books must’ve been outdated too.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 22nd, 1976

Today, her attention was drawn to her Herbology textbook as she flipped right to the medicine section. Y/N had sneakily stolen a few of her mother’s medical journals as she scribbled down notes.

She flicked through the diagrams. Wizards and No-Majs were different when it came to their bodies and sickness, she knew that, but their anatomy was still the same.

An opera played in the background as she sat in front of the television. It filled the silence as her mother came from behind her, creeping her way closer to the door.

Y/N called out from where she sat. “Care to join me?”

“Can't, work.” She grunted out.

She placed the pen down, full attention drawn to her. “I only have a few days until school starts… you can’t spend some time?”

Her mom wasn’t looking at her, ostensibly staring at the floor, anywhere other than her face.

“It’s not that interesting, but um - I need help with medical terms and illnesses. You’re the best at that!”

“I can’t,” she said roughly. “Can't you see? You have to stop bothering me when I’m busy.” And then she left again, leaving her alone. Y/N would’ve been more bothered had she not been so focused on her studies.

There was a pattern.

In the Herbology textbook, in the werewolf section, there were a few ingredients used to help alleviate symptoms of Lycanthropy.

Dittany, Powered silver, Powdered Moonstone, Aconite…

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 26th, 1976

“Do you want to —” “Work.”

“But you always have work… can’t you take some time off?”

“You know it’s important to me. Why do you keep trying to limit that?”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 29th, 1976

She was partially through her Potions and Charms textbook. It was all she could fixate on.

Deciding to take a break, Y/N went to stretch, getting up to talk to her mom who again, was getting ready to leave. She opened the honey-coloured wood draw close to the door. She pulled out a set of keys, fixing her appearance in a nearby mirror.

She had already opened the door.

“Hey mom, I was thinking of getting lunch… Will you be back soon?”

But, there was faint muffling outside the door.

“Ready for our date?”

Y/N, desperate, seized hold of her wrist, pleading. “Please, I leave in a day.”

“I'll make it up to you,” mom replied, “I promise.” And then, the door clicked shut.

Again.

She stared at the door, trying to regulate what she was thinking.

What made them worthy of her time when their’s were limited.

Robotically, Y/N turned to walk to her room, her hip bumped into the drawer which hadn’t been fully closed. Her eyes flew to it, about to push it in as she caught a flash of white.

Yanking it open, she swore her heart could’ve shattered. White envelopes filled the draw; her familiar handwriting scribbled on top of each letter. She picked one up, twisting it over to the flap.

It was unopened.

She picked up another. Unopened.

Then another. Unopened.

Unopened.

All of them were unopened, sealed. Hardly tampered with and there was hardly a wrinkle.

Was there something wrong with her? Something so disgraceful that made her so disgusting that people kept forgetting - pushing her away? Like an insidious disease.

Was she truly that unloveable? That much of a nuisance? What made someone else so much more important than her?

It was too much to process but if she had to describe the feeling, it was like drowning on dry land.

Whatever home was, it shouldn’t feel like this: cold, lonely, sad.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary (+ a bit of history bc i didn’t realize how many ppl didn’t actually understand what I was talking about in other chaps):

Coffee Crisp = a very popular chocolate bar sold in Canada. It was a variation of a treat made by a company from the UK. It was briefly introduced to the UK in the 60s but was pulled back because people thought it was too similar to Kit Kat. From what I know, Coffee Crisp is not commonly found in England (I've never seen it in stores) but it’s sold in Scotland.

Candy bar = US term for chocolate bar / chocolate

Grass = during the 60s - 70s, the term 'grass' was very popular slang for weed in New York bc it featured in vogue.

And yes, the British do drink that much tea.

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[fandom--desires]

Over the City

Fandom: Destiny

Rating: K+ Character(s): Commander Zavala Word Count: 1,349

You needed space to breathe. To think.

The last few weeks have been an endless onslaught of Vex, Hive, Cabal and Taken. You have lost count of how many times your Ghost has had to heal broken bones and gaping wounds, bring you back from the brink of death and revive you. Your body aches from the pain and abuse of it all. The last encounter with Cabal that morning had broken seven ribs, punctured a lung and almost eviscerated you.

Now, as it nears midnight, you find solace in peace. There’s a small nook in one of the western stairwells that opens to a maintenance hatch on the side of the wall. The ledge is sheltered and provides a beautiful view of the Last City that you fight each day to defend. It was worth it, but the constant kill or be killed took its toll mentally. Many guardians that you knew had taken themselves off on solo trips to every corner of the solar system to try and recuperate. Some were gone a few weeks, others took years to find their peace of mind again.

You could probably do with a similar bought of soul searching, but you remained purely for selfish reasons: you couldn’t leave him. Zavala. Titan Vanguard and Commander.

Since the first day you had stepped into the Tower you had admired him. His voice could put you to sleep, his honour and kindness melted your heart, and his determination to always do the right thing inspired you. At some point during this long, second life, you had fallen head over heels in love with him.

You completed each strike, mission and bounty he sent you on, but the time away from him made your heart ache. You hardly saw him at the tower either, only to collect and turn in your tasks, public announcements and when he would occasionally wander the Tower. It was a foolish love, but love nonetheless, so you had committed to working through the internal blackness of the fight at the tower, so you could still hear his voice, see his face and willingly complete the tasks he asked of you.

“You know, at some point he’s either going to figure it out, or you’re going to snap.” Your Ghost mentioned, idly floating by your shoulder and as though guessing your train of thought.

“It’s been this long and he hasn’t.” A small smile plays at the corner of your mouth. Was that a good thing? Hard to know anymore. Maybe confessing your undying love to him and getting shut down would be better for everyone. You were sure some of the other guardians were starting to piece it together, and Ikora had been giving you a look recently. If Cayde found out it would be public knowledge in a week.

“We could disappear to Nessus for a few weeks.” Ghost insisted. “There’s still a large Vex population. Just a few weeks away, see if that clears your head.”

You hummed in partial agreement, swinging your legs over the concrete ledge of your perch. Maybe it was time for a break. You weren’t a teenager, you had a job to do. “You’re right. Nessus could be good.” You agreed eventually. “I can speak to Ikora in the morning. See if she can put the request forwards to Zavala. Can’t focus on this forever.”

“Can’t focus on what?”

The deep rumble of the Commander’s voice made you jump and you damn near slipped from your ledge. “Nothing!” you answer far too hastily, your head snapping to the left to see your unwelcome intruder. How did he get here? When did he get here? “Stuff. Evening.” You really hoped the Commander couldn’t see the blush racing across your face, burning your cheeks. He probably could. You could see every inch of his solid build, from shining boots to raised eyebrow.

“Good evening.” Zavala cocked a smile. “You probably shouldn’t dangle off the edge.” He nodded towards you and, almost instinctively, you shuffled back against the wall and drew your feet up to rest on the concrete. Zavala chuckled and manoeuvred down to sit next you, tucking one leg under the other and dangling one foot over the edge. “It’s a nice evening.”

“It is.” you agreed. Look away. You urged yourself, your eyes transfixed on the side of his face. Your heart was beating a thousand beats a minute. Why was he here? You had never been alone with him like this before.

“Now, what seems to be the problem?”

You stared at him, blinking and forgetting your voice. “Nothing.” You manage to choke out eventually, pulling your eyes off his profile and out over the city. “Nothing important.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Zavala shift and turn to face you. The blush comes rushing back to your cheeks. “If it is worrying one of my most hardworking guardians, then it must be important.” He urged, almost gently.

“It’s nothing, really, just… thinking. Maybe I need a break? I don’t know. Ghost suggested maybe taking an extended order on Nessus. A few weeks. Nothing more. Maybe. I’m not sure. I like being here. In the Tower with everyone. With you.” Shit. “All! With everyone.” Double shit.

If Zavala picked up on your rambling mistake (he almost certainly couldn’t have missed it) he didn’t say anything. If you had been able to pluck up the courage to look at him, you would have seen a gentle smile playing out across his features.

“Sorry.” You shake your head. “I can’t imagine you’re here to listen to my problems. Are you here to give me an earful about being out here?”

“Not at all.” Zavala chuckled. “I’ve known about your secret for months.”

Secret? What secret? Did he mean the wall or-

“I just thought you might like some company. I can go?” the Commander offered, making to stand.

“No!” Too hasty. “Ah, it is nice to have the company. I thought I was slightly more discreet about my hide out, that’s all.”

“I can see it from my office.” Zavala smiled, turning his attention back towards the city. “I thought best to leave you be for now, but you seemed different after your strike today. I was concerned.”

“Thank you.” You said gently, letting your legs drop back down over the side. “I appreciate the company. Today was hard, but we do it for a reason. Being out here helps me remember why we fight.”

The two of you fell into gentle silence, watching the lights of the sprawling city far below. It was nice. Calming. The stress of the day was already falling away and the pain in your ribs hurt just a little less than before. Eventually, Zavala broke the silence.

“If you want to take an extended order, I will not deny your request.” He said gently, turning once more to look at you. “I shall miss you, but I will authorise it.”

“Miss me?” you couldn’t help but look at him. You mean to argue that there were other guardians just as dedicated, just as skilled, if not more so, but those bright blue eyes caught yours and you felt yourself getting lost in the way he looked at you. Really looked at you.

“Yes. I will miss you.” Zavala said, reaching out and taking your hand. His hand was warm against yours as he placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “But I can let you go if you need to. Just as long as you promise to come back.”

You nodded mutely, your hand still clasped in his. “Always.”

Zavala smiled and placed another kiss on your knuckles before dropping your hand into your lap. “I don’t know about you, but I need dinner. I think the noodle hut is still open. Dinner?”

A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth and you ducked your head to try and hide it. “Dinner.” You agreed, and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

Maybe just a quick strike on Nessus would suffice.

[imomomi]

Word Count: 4,007

Warnings: Spoilers for the Nationals Arc

April 2012

          It was Osamu who convinced her to become their manager. A whole year of begging and bringing her food, had softened her and now Y/N found herself sheepishly leaving her classroom with Osamu and Atsumu gripping each shoulder. Afraid that she would run away, they’d come to escort her to Gym B where the rest of the volleyball team was waiting in anticipation of their new manager. Personally, she wanted to beat the twins over the head with her bag, but every time she’d fought with them Aran somehow found out and would yell at them for hours.

           “You know if you two were nicer, maybe there’d be more girls interested in doing this,” muttered Y/N. The urge to dig her feet into the ground and refuse to move grew stronger the closer they got. Atsumu and Osamu shared a grin over her shoulders.

           Atsumu ducked and grabbed her knees while Osamu wrapped an arm around her torso holding her up. Y/N shrieked and kicked at the laughing blonde. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, only to be caught by Osamu who nearly dropped her while catching it. A bright burst of anger filled her beat only by the sudden urge to laugh as they hurried past their perplexed schoolmates.

           “I’m wearing a skirt, you idiot. Let go,” she shouted, pulling the hem down as far as it would go. Atsumu swung her legs wildly, laughing again as she screamed.

           “Nah-uh, Y/N-chan, you’ll run away,” grinned Atsumu widely.

           “I’ll kill you both.”

           “Big words for someone at our mercy,” said Osamu, jerking his arms to the side.

           “What are you two doing,” Aran asked in horror as they arrived. Y/N hung limply between the two brothers only to be dropped as the twins straightened up. Groaning, she rolled over, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks.

           “L/N, you alright?”

           “Just kill me now,” said Y/N burying her face into her hands. The team shared matching grins, but dropped them as a boy with silver hair, the ends dipped in black, quietly asked them to move.

           “You two shouldn’t rough-house with a girl like that,” said the boy. He walked forward, kneeling down before her and offered her a handkerchief. Y/N took it gingerly, wondering what she was supposed to do it with. Her clothes were covered in dirt and her face was probably smeared with it as well. Atsumu glanced down, meeting her eye. His shoulders shook dangerously even as he met Aran’s gaze again.

           “I’m Kita Shinsuke. I apologize on the twin’s behalf.”

           “Don’t worry. I’ll get them back,” promised Y/N. Her eyes glittered with a hint of danger.

           “Seeking revenge will only cause you pain,” Kita scolded, “Accept their apology and let them learn from it.”

           Osamu twitched, hand flying to his mouth to choke back his laugh as Y/N’s eyes widened. Why was she getting scolded when the twins were the ones who had been misbehaving?

           “You alright?” Aran asked, hands pressed tightly on her shoulders as he looked over her for any injuries. “Thought I told you to stop messing around with the twins.”

           “They kidnapped me, Ojiro-senpai.”

           “Don’t pulled the senpai card. It doesn’t work on me,” said Aran, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile despite his words. He offered her hand which she eagerly took.

           “This is L/N Y/N,” Aran said. “Somehow Dumb and Dumber convinced her to be our manager, so try not to act like you usually do.”

           “She’ll eat you for breakfast if you do. Like Kaonashi,” said Atsumu. Y/N rolled her eyes, pulling her skirt straight and attempting to fix her wrinkled blouse. Aran’s fingers brushed the top of her head, smoothing down locks of hair that had escaped her braid.

           “Don’t listen to them. They barely managed to learn how read, let alone play volleyball,” she said.  Aran laughed behind her, the sound low and rumbling like the purr of a cat. It warmed her to her bones and a hint of a flush entered her cheeks, reminding her once more why she had been avoiding being manager in the first place.

June 21, 2012: 15:21

           Kibasen was the stupidest thing they could get caught playing. Y/N knew she shouldn’t have listened when they first suggested it, but somehow, she ended up sitting on top of Suna’s shoulders while Osamu sat on top of Atsumu’s. The twins were still fighting over the fact that Osamu was on top, while Y/N attempted to tie the bandana around her head as tightly as possibly.

           “Don’t let me fall,” said Y/N to Suna. He tilted his head back slightly and sighed loudly.

           “Whatever,” he said.

           “Oi, Y/N prepare to lose.”

           “I thought horses couldn’t talk,” she said. Osamu howled in laughter, nearly toppling over had Atsumu not been holding him so tightly.

           Osamu came in hard, pulling and tugging at her hair to get the bandana off. He barely filched as her fingers dug into his forearms and attempted to shake him off. They’re wobbling all over the place, spurred on by the cheers of the first and second years.

           “Come on, give up,” whined Osamu.

           “Ugh, my scalp is literally gonna fall off, you bastard. Stop it,” she shouted back.

           Her finger got right under the bandana, ready to pull it off, when the gym door flew open. The look of complete bewilderment on Aran’s face was almost worth the scolding they would get from Kita.

           “Do I need to get a babysitter for all of you?” Aran asked. She laughed, clutching Suna’s hair for dear life when he jerked forward in an attempt to throw her off.

           “If I say it’s not what it looks like, would you believe me?” she asked. Aran shook his head and sighed in the same breath. She clambered off Suna, ducking beneath Kita’s cold stare.

           “Why do I always find you in some sort of trouble?” Aran muttered. He helped her down, shooing Suna in Kita’s direction. Y/N smiled up at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice how sweaty she was.

           “I’m trying to make your life interesting, senpai.”

           “Try a little less,” he said. The warm grin he gave her sent a jolt right through her spine, “And stop calling me senpai. It’s creepy coming from you.”

           “Yes, Aran-san,” she said. He groaned, dropping his head into the palm of his hands for a moment. She took slight pleasure in his annoyance, wondering how far she could push his buttons. Watching Aran yell at the twins was an experience in its own, but he was unknowingly funny when he was trying to prove his point. Once, she had claimed that the US hadn’t landed on the moon, just to watch him try and disprove her every argument.

           “Oi, do you have to be so….”

           “So what? Cute? Pretty? Adorable? Sma-“

           “Annoying.”

           “Ouch, that almost hurt.”

           “I doubt it.

           “Well, all that exercise made me hungry. Buy me food.”

           “Don’t you have parents? Ask them.”

           “Be a good senpai, Aran.”

           “No. Go away.”

           “Aran, I want food…. noodles and goyza. Or rice? BBQ? Chicken? I can’t choose,” she muttered under her breath.

           “Just ten minutes of peace, that’s all I want.”

June 21, 2012 18: 55

           “Ohhhh,” said Osamu. He leaned in close enough that she could smell a hint of mint on his breath and flicked her on the forehead. “Someone has a crush.”

           “Shut up,” she hissed, grabbing his sleeve as she looked around. Osamu laughed, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She wished suddenly that she could be like him or Atsumu. The twins never worried about right or wrong. They were creatures of pure passion, throwing themselves forward without a care of the consequences. But, Y/N was too proud to declare that she was envious of their attitudes. Her caution was often mocked, but it had helped her more times than not.

           “Just tell him,” Osamu shrugged. She closed her eyes, pressing away the storm of thoughts raging in her mind.

           She nursed the small flame of affection. Aran didn’t need to know. No one did. She pulled away from Osamu. A frown entering his brow, as if he were annoyed or confused at her lack of an answer. He let her drift off further ahead, hands twisting and untwisting before her. They were still young, years down the line they might resent each other for whatever relationship they had. She didn’t want that.  

           A tense silence settled in her body, the sort of silence that comes before a clap of thunder. If the choice lay between having Aran and losing him, she’d always—without a doubt in her mind—pick having him in her life. Aran and her might never be more than friends and she was okay with that. Besides, she’d never loved anyone in her life and doubted that she loved Aran. She was simply drawn to the brightness that surrounded him like a moth pressing closer to a lone lantern.

She paused, waiting for Osamu to catch up.

           “What?” he asked.

           “What do you mean what?”

           “You look crazy. It’s making me nervous.”

           “Shut up,” she muttered. They were approaching the end of the block and the familiar scent of food rose in the air, chicken, and the slight char of BBQ from the restaurants lined up and down the street. She and Osamu exchanged matching grins. Her parents would yell at her later for wasting money on food when they had some at home, but her and Osamu were too far gone to care about such things.

           August 26, 2012

          Summer vacation with the team meant taking a bonding trip out to Tokimeki. It also meant snapping at the various gawking idiots who muttered under their breath about foreigners. Snapping did nothing stop the stares coming from people who were used to seeing their own face reflected in everyone around them.

           If they felt or saw her annoyance growing, no one said anything about it, sharing the same tenseness that she did. Only Kita had a sense of calm about him as they switched trains. Y/N moved closer to Aran shoving herself between the twins. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before he reached over and took her bag from her, tossing it at one of the twins.

           “What did you pack? That was heavy,” he asked with a frown. Y/N looked up glad to have a distraction. It was odd seeing everyone not in uniforms. The Pokémon t-shirt he wore was slightly faded from constant wear. She wondered if it was his favorite or if someone had gifted it to him and he’d taken to wearing it often.

           “Clothes, snacks, and my manga collection.”

           “I’m stealing some of that.”

           “I don’t think my shirts will fit you, Aran.”

           “You’re the worse person I’ve ever met in my life.”

           “Wow, save that passion for the be-“Aran put his hand over her mouth, muffling the rest of her words as a small child gazed at them with curiosity. He laughed awkwardly as Kita turned towards them with a raised brow. Her tongue darted out from behind her lips and licked the palm of his hand. Aran didn’t even flinch and gave her a warning glance.

            “Promise not to say anything inappropriate.”

           She nodded and the moment he let go uttered the word bedroom as loudly as she could.

        August 29, 2012

          The beach was as horrible as she imagined. Suna refused to give up any space beneath the umbrella, stating that if he got a sunburn he couldn’t play. She was stuck sweating beneath the hot sun, wondering if the water was as cold as everyone said it was.

           “I miss spring,” she muttered, pulling her hair up. The back of her neck was slick with sweat and she felt her annoyance with the world grow with every passing second.

           “Let’s go get ice-cream,” Aran suggested. He threw her a look of pity, holding his hand out for her. Y/N took it eagerly, ignoring the snickers coming off the twins.

           “It’s not that hot,” Aran said with a laugh.

           “I know that, but something about the heat just shortens my temper,” answered Y/N. Aran shook his head and laughed.

           “Really? You with a short temper?” he asked. She winced, thinking of all those times she’d been caught by him fighting with the twins.

           “It’s not that short,” she muttered, instantly glaring at the sand that wavered from the heat.

           “At least I have backup for the twins now. I swear I saw Kita’s eye twitch last week,” he said with a laugh.

          They walked along the shore in comfortable silence, Aran’s height shielding her slightly from the sun. The cool summer breeze and icy water are enough to calm her down slightly. Her nerves came racing back, twisting dangerously in her gut. Even as they reached the ice-cream stand—how did Aran know her favorite—Y/N’s words repeatedly failed her. Part of her was afraid to break the peaceful quiet they had settled in. She liked that they didn’t need words between them. But another part ached to say something, anything to get rid of the constant anxiety that cropped up when she was alone with him. Did he know she had a crush on him? Sometimes she thought he did, and the fear of rejection circled through her like vultures over a carcass.

          “You know,” Aran said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, “When we first met, I honestly thought you were insane.”

          “What?”

          “You were just so loud; it was a bit scary.”

          “I’m loud because people are dumb. Especially adults.”

          “I know, but you looked crazy as a kid, screaming like a maniac at everyone…but, I’m glad you never grew out of it.”

          “I had a giant crush on you,” she admitted. Aran choked on his ice-cream, coughing roughly as her faced her head on. His eyebrows rose high as he searched for a response but failed to find one.

          “It was during that training camp. I came to show Atsumu how cool the bandage looked on my arm and he kept making fun of me for falling in the first place and then you told him to stop because he’d hit the net face first. That was the highlight of my year,” said Y/N.

          “Wh..what? Why? For how long?”

          “Should I tell you?” she teased and stopped walking, “I was probably insane back then.”

          “Yes! You can’t just tell someone something like that and not explain. It’s human decency,” said Aran, waving his ice-cream about. She watched as it fell from the cone towards the ground with a splat. Her laugh, high pitched and louder than most, sounded in the air. Aran sighed, grumbling about how he needed a new team and should have stayed home. Y/N felt lighter then she had in a while.

October 19, 2012

          With a flick of his wrist, he tapped the ball over the net between the blockers that had lined up in front of Aran and Suna. With a smirk, Atsumu landed back on his feet, winking at a fuming Uchida. If he hissed anymore, Atsumu would mistake her for a snake.

          “You didn’t think I’d let you scare me, did you, Uchida-chan?” he mocked. Aran clapped him on the back. One more and the match would be over.

          “You’re such a bastard,” Uchida muttered across the net. Aran smiled, a cutting grin that lacked any of his usual calm. Aran wanted to retort that being bastards was what made them win games but felt that it was a bit cruel for a team about to lose their chance to go to Nationals.

          “Keep that to yourself,” Aran said, pulling a fuming Atsumu away from the net. “Don’t bother with them. Just win.”

          “Hey, I’m not dumb. I know that.”

          “Just serve and watch out for my head,” said Aran. He glanced to the side once where Y/N was pacing as she watched the game. He was surprised to find that she was dealing with the stress well. During their very first match, she had promptly vomited all over Kita on the bus ride over to the gym. If anyone doubted Kita’s status as a saint, it was reaffirmed as he calmly cleaned up the mess and pulled out medicine that he bought in anticipation of someone puking.

          She sent him a thumbs up once she noticed his gaze. Her smile came out more like a grimace and the green tint to her face worried him slightly. He wondered how it was possible for someone to be so confident everywhere else and turn into a nervous wreck at the thought of losing a game.

          At the sound of the whistle, Atsumu tossed the ball in the air. Silence followed his steps. The lack of spin made it easy to hit and as he landed back, he watched as the ball swerved in the air, towards the back line. Sato got a hand on it, but the ball veered left towards the crowd. There was a scramble, Uchida and Midori jumping over one another to try and reach it. The ball hit the ground with a resounding thud, echoed by the loud trill of horns as Inarizaki’s band started back up.

          “YES!” Akagi shouted, turning around and jumping on top of him. Atsumu caught him, only to stumble as Osamu and Ginjima latched onto him.

          They were going to Nationals. His last one. Something hot and heavy burned its way through his body. They would win, Aran thought. He didn’t care how. He didn’t who they went against. Inarizaki would emerge as the champions. Like the throbbing beat of a drum, it echoed through their minds as they turned to each other. One by one, little by little, they would topple the other teams.

December 24, 2012

          Aran wasn’t sure how he’d gotten dragged out of the house on Christmas Eve, but Y/N has somehow ushered him into his jacket and tossed a greeting to his mother in the same breath before he’d gotten kidnapped. Snow fell in small light flurries around them. The smell of chestnuts and roasted yams filled the air. He tried not to think about all the couples around them, celebrating the holiday together. His Christmas’s at home might be more American thanks to his mother, but he’d grown up here where Christmas Eve was Valentine’s day 2.0.

           Y/N didn’t seem to notice or care. She rarely did, even if it sometimes embarrassed him how oblivious she was to the fact that people thought they were a couple when they hung out. He’d tried to get her out of his mind, but it seemed impossible when she was there all the time.

           “Look the Christmas Tree,” she said, racing forward to look at the extravagant light display in the middle of the square. He bit back a smile at the accent marring the word Christmas. Growing up in a half-American, half-Japanese household had given him an advantage over his class when it came to English. He was always quick to point it out when his teammates or Y/N attempted to show off their skills in the language.

           “Slow down,” he called out. She looked back, realizing that he hadn’t followed her and waited patiently.

           “You’re the athlete, move it.”

           “The tree isn’t going anywhere. It’s nice out, let’s just enjoy it.”

           “Ahh, but then we will be late for dinner.”

           “Dinner? Y/N, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me before we left?”

           “I was afraid you would say no,” she said, softly. She gazed away from him, leaving him surprised by the low slope of her shoulders and the slight flush on her face. He sighed, tugging her hand out of her pocket and laced their fingers together. Her hand was smaller and smoother than his, but the feeling of her warm palm against his felt right. He swallowed hard and looked away from her bright eyes.

           He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t ever tell her no, but the words were stuck in his throat. He settled for holding onto her hand for as long as she’d let him. Eventually, the weight of her hand in his fades away and hours later, when they’ve walked in circles, snacking on food from each of the market stalls, carrying small gifts between them, does he realize that they’d never even made it to the restaurant.

January 6th, 2012

          “You’re crying,” Kita said. He was gazing at her as if he’d never really seen her before. Y/N shook it off, wiping her tears off with the back of her palm. She felt like a fool, crying like a child over the loss of a game. For Atsumu and Osamu there was always next year, but for the third years, this had been their last chance. Seeing how hard they fought, to the very end of the match, left a dull ache in her heart. It wasn’t fair, she thought. To have gone so far at Inter-High and be out in their first match at Nationals. In that moment, she hated their stupid logo. Why shouldn’t they have memories? Kita and the rest wouldn’t disappear after this year, they deserved to be remembered.

          “Sorry,” she muttered. Kita reached into his jacket pocket and silently handed her a handkerchief. She had the unexplainable urge to hug him.

          “There isn’t any reason to apologize, L/N-san. I understand how you are feeling. If I could ask for more time together as a team, I would,” he smiled, softly. Y/N’s breath stuttered, stunned because she doubted, she'd ever seen him smile, “But we played a good match, don’t you think so?”

          “The best,” she swore.

          “Then save your tears for something more important. We have no regrets, so you shouldn’t be upset.” Kita stared at her for a moment longer, before nodding his head towards Aran. “You should tell him, L/N-chan. I think right now, he would be happy to hear it.”

           It’s the push that Y/N needed. A bought of bravery or stupidity or both fill her. Y/N had hidden behind her own fears for so long, she had begun to think it was normal. But she’d never been the type to hold back.

           “Ojiro Aran,” Y/N said, forcefully. Aran looked away from Suna, grimacing as he caught sight of her swollen eyes.

           “Hey, they’ll win next time,” he said. Y/N shook her head, scoffing at his foolishness in the moment.

           “I like you. I’ve like you ever since we first met and it’s okay if you don’t like me. I just wanted you to know and well, I’m sorry that you lost, but you’ll be a good playe-“

           She was cut off by his hand on her mouth.

           “I’m supposed to say it frist,” he said. He pulled his hand away only to cup her cheek gently. She leaned into the touch, afraid that if she moved, it would all turn into a dream. He moved closer, closing the gap between them. She kissed his jaw, dragging her lips to meet his. His lips, hot and sweet, taste of the honeyed lemons he had earlier. Aran swelled beneath her touch, like the first bloom of spring. He pulled her flush against him, the movement full of longing. She could smell nothing but him, the sharp sent of fire, the warmth of the earth.

           Y/N does not know how long they are there. She drank him in, each sweetened breath, each movement of his lips. She thought, that this is the closest to happy she has been.

           The moment was broken by Atsumu whistling sharply as he clapped the two of them on the back. Aran immediately pulled away, retorting sharply that he shouldn’t make a scene after he’d lost the game.

           Y/N sighed, resigning herself to her fate. Despite all her complaints, she wouldn’t trade this team for the world. A glance at Kita told her that he wouldn’t either.

General Taglist: @haikyuuopalite​ @raenebalgaire​

[ignify-caligo]

so.... any sleep hcs about gascon, meve and reynard?? thank u ily 💕💕💕

This is five days overdue and I’m terribly sorry for that, friend! Nonetheless, I love you too and I hope these hc’s will be satisfactory!! They probably gonna be quite ooc for different reasons but I just went after vibes and my personal needs atm (gotta have some soft for my sick ass oof). Though I tried to stay true to the info I have from tumblr/wiki (sadly never had the pleasure to play/watch the whole game) so I hope that they at least seem to be in character! We should get right into it, shouldn’t we?

☾ - sleep headcanon

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

☾ - sleep headcanon

Gascon

He either doesn’t have any bones or he’s the human reincarnation of a cat. This lad is the most flexible out of these three, he’s like a noodle spawned from hell. Sleeping rolled-up like a rope? Doesn’t create any damage for him in the morning, he literally doesn’t experience any aches or stiffness because of his inhuman sleeping positions. He can straight out sleep in the same fucked up position until noon, and still, be full of energy and able to do parkour or any acrobatics.

Out of all three, he’s the one to sleep talk. Usually, the stuff that leaves his mouth sounds like Cthulhu trying to communicate while eating or he simply makes hiccupping/whimpering noises like his in midst of a nightmare. Which, to be honest, isn’t surprising for someone knowing his past + all the experiences he collected throughout his years as a bandit. Though, it happens that some “parts” of his talking are understandable. Words like “mother”, “please” and “I’m not leaving!” are common after a stressful day and whenever something triggering happens. But he also has his golden comedic statements that will confuse anyone in earshot, some examples being: “Reynard has a bigger ass than Lyria and Rivia” or “Nilfgaardians are Dilfs in the negatives”.

Reynard

This man (whenever he manages to) sleeps either like a log or is basically the human octopus. There is no middle ground in his sleeping positions. Either way, he’s ending with not only a sore back but with sore everything whenever the morning comes. It’s Gascon’s favourite thing to poke him about in the morning light, calling him an “oldy man” isn’t quite the motivational speech Reynard is thankful for. You can track his path thanks to his popping joints and quiet mutterings of “why did the Gods curse us with sleep” and so on.

Reynard gets extremely cold whenever the time to sleep comes or/and when he's already deep in dreamland. It surely has the connection to his completely shattered sleeping habits and schedule, which he doesn’t necessarily look to fix in the future. So, he ends up willingly shivering like crazy, does it bring him any joy? Positively not, but will he fix it? Absolutely not, because “there’s nothing to fix” in his mindset. His solution to the problem is to bury himself alive under trillions of blankets. That is, whenever he has the chance to, otherwise he just gives up and suffers the shivering.

Meve

She’s the most likely to get the perfect 8+ hours of sleep during the nightly hours. Meve’s aware of the importance of sleep and acknowledges that having a healthy sleep schedule is a priority (compared to the other two). Being an important icon and having the responsibilities she has, there are of course some kind of complications whatever it is stress or simple adrenaline pumping in her veins making her unable to sleep. Instead of simply giving up on the problem, she tries to find any solution that can help. Reading or using any relaxation herbs are her ways of dealing with sleep difficulties.

Shortly said, Meve’s a living furnace! You don’t need any extra warmth of any kind, whenever you’re sleeping beside her. This means, that she’s the perfect candidate for the big spoon position. Her strong arms and the suns warmth coming from her? I say: Yes, Please (respectfully ofc)!

Extra

Gascon is the blanket stealer.

He either sleeps in trousers or naked, there’s nothing in between.

Will and won’t hesitate to sleep on top of someone, like a gigantic cat.

Meve doesn’t use blankets, with her body heat they’re completely useless.

Sleeps in nightgowns of the highest quality (she’s the queen no surprise there) .

On her side or on the stomach, are her go-to sleeping positions.

Would let her sons sleep with her when they were small and easily scared. Now she will let Knickers sleep on the bed, either beside her feet or snuggling in her arms.

Whenever Reynard’s too pent up to sleep properly, he will incite the “nightly check”. He will walk around and pester the poor guards on duty.

He needs to truly tire himself out to even think about sound sleep.

Would be the one to kick/lash out whenever something moved the mattress/bed, even in deep sleep.

He has a wool matching pyjama set, will never sleep naked (like the heathen Gascon, his above that).

Headcanon Meme Here

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 9 - Blue finds Red

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 927

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: A short and sweet chapter, and an end to “Act 1″ of this fic. I should also note that I see MK, Mei, and Red Son as kids (mid to older teens at least), and Sandy would definitely see them as children, and thus I will be writing them as such.

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

It doesn’t take the group long to get back to the Noodle Shop. Pigsy takes up the job of bandaging up the Monkey King and treating his wounds. He asks Sandy to hold and support the immortal as needed, but after squirming around at first, he gets tired out and dips into a heavy sleep, allowing Pigsy to finish bandaging him. Pigsy turns to Sandy’s burnt shoulder next, but he refuses to be treated until Mei and MK are looked at. Mei has a slight concussion that requires some care, but other than that just needs rest. MK is physically fine, but emotionally worn, so Pigsy prescribes some rest for him as well. The three of them are sent to various beds and sofas in the building, but finding comfort in each others’ presence, they put the Monkey King in MK’s bed with the other two piling up some cushions in the same room and sleeping there. Sandy, Pigsy, and Tang all breathe a collective sigh of relief once they are asleep. Only then does Sandy allow Pigsy to take care of his shoulder.

Few words pass between the three men, except for some plans on how to handle the next few days. It is decided that for now Pigsy and Tang will keep watch over the Monkey King (and the two kids), and Sandy should head home and get some rest himself. Sandy complies, and after a long night finally heads back to his ship docked at the beach.

Sandy breathes in the chilly night air to clear his mind and relax himself after the day’s events. His shoulder itches, but he represses the urge to scratch at his bandages, and instead distracts himself by tugging a bit at his beard. He hums a small tune to himself, and goes through some of the things he needs to do before going to bed - feed the cats, water the plants, go through some of his medical supplies should he need any extra, maybe he could bake a cake or something tomorrow to cheer up his friends after such an arduous event...

Sandy is nearing his home now and is about to board his ship when a shock of red along the beach catches his attention. The lump of red peeks through patches of dirty brown. It looks vaguely human shaped. Perhaps a person who was hurt when MKs tidal wave crashed down on everything?

Sandy rushes over to the body and upon closer inspection he is surprised to find that it is none other than the form of Red Son lying on the beach. Sandy's eyes widen at this revelation. He's just laying there, unmoving. The boy is covered in mud and dirt and any visible skin looks to be heavily bruised and burned. His hair is in a tangled mess and his glasses are cracked. Sandy takes a cautious look around his surroundings before squatting down and carefully putting a hand up close to the boy's face. He can feel shallow puffs of breath brush across the back of his fingers. Ok, so he is alive, just unconscious. A few inches closer and Sandy touches the side of Red Son's cheek. The boy is alarmingly cold.

Sandy pulls his hand back and stands up slowly. Red Son is obviously hurt, and in this condition and being exposed to the cold beach air, he is not sure if the boy would make it if left alone. Sandy's first instinct would be to help the poor lad. But what would his companions say if he helped the very person who had so recently put them through so much pain? Could he really help the son of their most dangerous enemy? Wouldn't that be a betrayal of his friends’ trust? And what would Red Son do if--?

Sandy's thoughts are interrupted by a shuffling from below followed by a pained whine. He looks down to see Red Son looking up. However, he can't tell for certain if he's actually looking at him. The boy’s eyes don't seem very focused, even though his eyebrows are knit in attempted concentration.

Red Son's features then break into an expression he hadn't ever seen on him before. It is one of remorse and regret, and no small amount of fear.

His voice is pinched and hoarse when it comes out, and barely audible above the lapping of the waves by the beach, but Sandy still hears it when Red Son speaks. "I'm… sorry…"

Sandy raises his eyebrows. An apology?

"... father, I'm sorry!"

 Oh, so it’s a case of mistaken identity.

Red Son continues to look up, unseeing, at Sandy, and continues with a desperate voice. "Please…! Don't abandon… me!"

He reaches out a shaky hand.

Red Son is an enemy and has done some terrible things. But he's just a kid, probably around the same age as MK and Mei. He certainly is at the same maturity level. Sandy would be hard pressed to say no to someone in need, even an enemy.  But if there's one thing that Sandy could never do, was say no to a child pleading for help.

Red Son's eyes slide shut, his head landing back in the sand. His hand follows, but does not make it to the ground. Instead it is caught by Sandy's. His large blue hand envelopes Red Son's much smaller one, and he gently rubs his thumb over his tiny knuckles.

"Don't worry, my boy," Sandy says in a voice as warm as he'd use to greet an old friend. "I've got you."

END OF ACT 1

start || <– previous // next –>

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Kuro and Mahiru go to Yokohama for a weekend vacation. (KuroMahi, Modern AU)

Mahiru sat on the train and he waited for the time to pass by playing games on his phone. There was a light weight on his shoulder but he didn’t mind. Kuro slept soundly as he used his shoulder as a pillow. They had to wake up early that day so he decided to let him rest during the train ride. Mahiru leaned against Kuro in return and listened to his even breathing. No matter if they talked throughout the train ride or simply sat in each other’s presence, Mahiru was content and happy.

More people entered the train and it became noisier. Kuro was a deep sleeper but Mahiru didn’t want the other passengers to wake him. He took off one of his earbuds and slipped it beneath Kuro’s hood. Mahiru carefully tucked the earbud into his ear and he hoped the song would muffle the voices of the people around them. Before he leaned back, he couldn’t help but press a kiss onto his hair. The small gesture roused Kuro slightly.

Kuro shifted next to him and searched for a comfortable position again. He wrapped his arms around Mahiru’s waist, turned his face into his shoulder and finally settled back to sleep. They were sitting closer than before and Mahiru felt his heart quicken. He glanced around the crowded train and he was glad that people weren’t staring at them. Mahiru relaxed into Kuro’s embrace.

He took out a travel magazine from his bag and flipped to a page he bookmarked. They had both been busy due to finals but they could now relax. They spent a lot of time together since they were roommates but he was excited to go out on a proper date. Mahiru suggested they travel to Yokohama and stay overnight. He had circled several places in the magazine that he wanted to go with Kuro.

“There’s a museum for cup noodles? I hope they have a lot of samples for us to try.” Kuro’s voice surprised him. He didn’t lift his head from his shoulder as he read the notes Mahiru wrote in the margins. He smiled up at him and joked: “If we go during lunch, we can save money by filling up on samples and buying a light meal afterwards. University’s expensive.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that instant noodles are unhealthy, Kuro?” He rolled his eyes but he couldn’t hold back a small chuckle. Mahiru held the booklet between them and they went through the different attractions they could visit. “The museum is close to the hotel we booked yesterday. We can even see the sea and shop at the boardwalk nearby. Which do you want to see first?”

“I don’t really care where we go. I’m happy as long as I’m with you.” He shrugged. Kuro sat straighter and stretched his arms above his head. He wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist and he used his other hand to flip to the next page. “Last night, Licht texted me and said we need to bring back sweets as a souvenir for him. I know giving souvenirs to your family and friends is a custom but I thought it was only for long trips.”

“I think Licht is just being a little greedy. You know how much he likes sweets.” Mahiru skimmed the different sweets they could buy for their friends. Kuro reached out to him and gently brushed his bangs from his brown eyes. The small gesture showed how attentive he was and it made Mahiru smile. While Kuro wasn’t the type for words, he showed how he cared through his actions. He wondered if it was because he grew up in London.

Kuro moved to Japan for school and they were roommates. Mahiru would show him around Tokyo and they grew closer until they started dating. “Licht would tell me how Hyde likes to flirt with him in public. I wonder if Englishmen are all forward like you two.”

“I don’t think I’m the same my brother.” Kuro didn’t know why Mahiru would compare them when they didn’t have similar personalities.

“Well, you’re not as loud as Hyde but you both act casual when it comes to being so affectionate in public.” Mahiru thought of the Hollywood movies he watched and how the couples would openly kiss each other. He questioned if Kuro was the same with his past partners and he felt slightly jealous. Kuro saw his brows furrowed slightly and he worried that Mahiru was uncomfortable.

“I’ve been in Japan for a few years but I’m still learning. Sorry.” He sat straighter and he started to pull his hand back. Mahiru placed his hand over his to keep his arm around his waist. He threaded their fingers together and tenderly rubbed his thumb along his knuckles. His hands were strong but he knew how gentle they could be.

“I like how you’ll put your arm around my shoulder when we walk down the street.” Mahiru told him. “I was just thinking of how you’d do things like that with others. I know that it’s immature to feel jealous and I have nothing to worry about but…”

He trailed after Kuro lifted his hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “I don’t do things like this because I grew up in London. It’s only for you, Mahiru.”

“Isn’t the ocean beautiful, Kuro?” Mahiru stared at the endless, blue ocean as they walked along the boardwalk. They could walk for miles but he wouldn’t become tired as long as Mahiru was with him. They would occasionally stop at a shop and browse the items on sale. Mahiru didn’t have extravagant tastes and preferred to wear simple clothes. Kuro thought that Mahiru was already beautiful with his smile so he didn’t need expensive clothes.

“We should go to the beach for our next trip.” Kuro heard a bike approach them and he looked over his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist and pulled him out of the bike’s path. Unfortunately, a few feet ahead of them, an elderly woman wasn’t able to evade the bike quickly enough. The woman stumbled to the ground and dropped her bags. Mahiru immediately ran forward to help her.

“Are you okay?” He knelt next to the grandmother and helped her to her feet. Kuro joined them and he began to collect the groceries she dropped. Mahiru was glad that she appeared unhurt and she was able to stand on her own. A part of him was still worried and he asked, “Is there someone you can call and ask if they’ll help you home? Carrying so much might be difficult after your fall.”

“What a kind boy you are. Thank you.” She smiled. She waved away his concern and told him, “My children are at work and I don’t want to trouble them by calling for help. I should be fine. My house is only ten minutes from here and my husband is waiting for me.”

Despite her reassurance, Kuro could see that Mahiru felt hesitant to walk away from someone who was hurt. He knew how kind he was and he openly wore his emotions on his face. He knelt in front of the elderly woman and said: “You’ve been leaning on your left leg so the fall hurt you. Even if nothing’s broken, you shouldn’t walk. I’ll carry you on my back.”

“I appreciate your offer. You look so much like my grandson. It’s rare to find someone with red eyes like yours.” She said once she saw Kuro. The grandmother accepted his help and she climbed onto his back. He stood and noticed Mahiru’s smile in the corner of his eyes. He felt himself blush under his tender gaze. Kuro could almost read his thoughts.

Mahiru carried the plastic bags as they walked down the street. They followed the directions she gave them and they entered a residential area nearby. He asked the woman about her grandson to start a casual conversation. Kuro merely listened to them laugh together and he thought of how he was able to connect with others easily. He had a warmth that drew people to him.

“Are you two dating?” She asked suddenly. “You two seem close. Did I interrupt your first date?”

“Actually, Kuro and I have been dating for a year now. Finals week ended and we wanted to celebrate by going on a date to Yokohama.” Mahiru told her. Whenever he thought of Kuro, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. “You live here. Do you know good places for a couple to visit?”

“My husband and I have tickets to the Ferris wheel at Cosmo World. It doesn’t look like we can go because my old bones are aching from the fall. You two should take the tickets and enjoy yourselves! It’ll be my way to thank you for helping me.” She offered. “My husband prefers to stay inside so I’m sure he won’t mind giving you the ticket.”

“Kuro is similar. His ideal date is to watch a movie on the couch.” Mahiru loved the late nights they would spend simply cuddling in front of the television. While they had different personalities, they made each other happy. Kuro taught him how to slow down and enjoy the day.

“But he came all the way to Yokohama for a date with you.” She said and Mahiru nodded.

“I wonder if we’ll be able to see Tokyo Tower when we reach the top of the Ferris Wheel.” Mahiru stared out the window as the cart slowly rose higher into the sky. The view before them was beautiful and he didn’t know if he should focus on the starry sky or the neon lights reflecting on the water. In the end, he found himself staring at Kuro and his way the light highlighted his strong features.

The night air was a little cold so he leaned closer to Kuro next to him. He tilted his head back to gaze up at him and pursed his lips slightly. Even without words, he knew what Mahiru wanted. He leaned down to kiss him briefly. Mahiru wrapped his arms around Kuro and said, “That elderly couple was nice to give us those tickets. Do you think that’ll be us one day?”

“By the time we’re old, there should be a service that picks up groceries for us and you wouldn’t have to go out to buy them on your own. We can both stay home and play bingo.” They both laughed as they imagined the scene. Kuro never thought of romance or marriage while he was a child but he could easily imagine those things with Mahiru. Even after years passed and they were old, he would help Mahiru carry groceries home.

[bibliocratic]

gift-giving redux, jonmartin

featuring secret hipster Martin and ever so charmed Jon. 

In the early days, when this was a more bird-boned, tentative, arms-length dance of a thing, Jon used to wonder if Peter Lukas was right about not knowing. If that mattered. And then, course, the world ended and then didn't, there was Scotland and another hundred moments in between, and now Jon savours the unfolding of these small knowledges, the evolution of his carefully and precisely filed collection of things he now has the time and privilege to learn.

The newest of his Martin facts; that Martin – when not making manipulative gambit allegiances with morally chaotic fear avatars, or being menaced by a roster of pan-dimensional horrors – is in his own way, kind of particular.

Jon should have known, really. With the retro sensibilities and the lo-fi charm.

Jon wakes up one morning, cushioned in a pudgy over-big duvet, blinking and grunting into awakeness, to find a cup of tea being held out to him. Martin getting back into bed from the cold, touching his chilled feet against Jon's leg.  The mug is a kiln-fired handmade effort, and Martin had explained the process to him while he'd ummed and ahhed over buying a set at a two-day crafts market they'd had to drive fifty minutes to get to.

(Martin had bought the set in the end, when Jon had encouraged him to. In its new home in the cupboard, it clashes horribly with Jon's basic set of one-colour cups and plates and bowls he got from Ikea back in the late 2000's, but Jon likes seeing them there, nestled in next to his own things.)

When the tea cools down enough for him to sip, Jon makes an interested noise.

“What's this?” he asks Martin, who is sitting next to him in bed, pillows squashed and propping him up behind his back. “It's new.”

Martin's put on his reading glasses, and he's flicking idly through the local events pages. (Martin, it has turned out, likes to do things at the weekend. Jon has the sinking feeling that Martin has been suggesting ideas to him and he's just been just humming his agreement, not really awake or listening in his morning-fuzzy, bleary way.)

“It's a loose-tea blend. Kind of a smoky flavour. You like it?”

“Hmm,” Jon replies, deliberately non-partisan, because he's not sold on the taste. He gives it another sip gingerly. “Have we run out of tea bags?”

Jon, contrary to popular belief – I'm not that incapable, Martin! - does make his own tea. He's been buying the same brand for years, the Yorkshire Tea stuff his grandma always used to get, leaving the bag in until it was black and weighty with the taste – Christ, boss, you could stand a spoon up in that, Tim had used to say – before adding milk and sugar.

At the mention of teabags, Martin tries not to look sniffy. He really does. But Jon catches one pained flash of distaste, tamped down by Martin's natural desire to see the best in people. It's the same expression he made when he looked in Jon's cupboards and found the off-brand Red Bull knockoff. The multiple flavours of Pot Noodle and Tesco's own brand tinned soups and baked beans.

Jon feels a wide smile begin on his face (still so rare, still hard-won, but Martin teases them out of him with the smallest things these days).

“You hipster!” he says with delight, secretly pleased he's found something he can tease Martin about. “Have you thrown out my teabags just to make a point?”

“I'm not!” Martin exclaims, rather confidently for a man who owns suspenders. “They're at the back of the cupboard. I just think you deserve better than the wood shavings they put in those things.”

Jon's happiness doesn't abate, and the teasing goes on for some time – is this stage one then? Am I going to come home one day and you've chucked out all my pastas / Those pot noodles have the nutritional content of dog food Jon, I wouldn't choose this as your hill to die on – until Martin stops his mouth with first, a kiss, and then a proposed visit to a local history museum, which they spiritedly argue about at length, enjoying the give and take of the heatless discussion.

Martin had thought that was the end of it.

Until Jon comes home one day, and he's bought Martin a new tea-pot, one of those fancy glass ones with an infuser inside. He doesn't say anything, just leaves it on the side by Martin's growing hoard of tea canisters for him to find.

“Thought you'd like it,” is all he says when Martin asks.

It doesn't stop there. A notebook from one of those alley-way odds-and-sods shops, still bearing a little fairtrade sticker, a striking design of interlocking triangles – If you need one, you know, you've been saying you wanted to get back into your poetry. They take a stroll down Camden Market one weekday and Martin loses Jon for a second, and it turns out he's snuck into one of those faux retro, tragically hip clothes shops, and has purchased a quirky pair of socks bearing breakfast foods with smily faces. Martin makes one comment once about how he quite likes novelty cufflinks, and now he owns three of them, each just appearing in his bedside drawer.

Jon always just raises his shoulders. “Thought you'd like them,” he'll say.

Martin stammers when he tries to say it to Jon, but as much as he isn't very good at showing how much he likes it, how much it means to him, he thinks it's ever so sweet. Thoughtful and sincere, and every time Martin sees something appearing, without fanfare or fuss, knowing that Jon's seen it in a shop window and bought it just because he thinks Martin will like it, well of course it does something funny to his insides. He feels a little melty and has to go find wherever Jon is sitting, squinting over some dry document – he needs reading glasses, he's just being really stubborn about it – , kissing him until he's pink and looking pleased.

Jon will still sneak out the Yorkshire teabags from the back of the cupboard when he thinks Martin's not around. Martin pretends he doesn't notice.