#I love how once again the thing that gives him kicks is others’ misfortune. “I burned myself while making soup…” Chil: “😂🤪”

[fumifooms]

The world must know about french Chilchuck’s chuckles

[shadesoflsk]

BLANCA NAVIDAD

pairing: leon kennedy x fem reader.

summary: Leon never liked Christmas. Memories of him being taken away from his parents and countless missions made him a bitter man. However, he wouldn't have guessed that one day, he would be placing Christmas stockings with a wife and a little bundle of joy next to him.

warnings: Mostly fluff, dad leon, mentions of injuries, alcohol problems, Leon being an orphan, mild hurt (nothing bad I swear) so cheesy and sappy.

"to give up one's very self – to think only of others – how to bring the greatest happiness to others – that is the true meaning of Christmas."

The sounds of boxes being moved filled your living room. It’s the first week of December, and both of you have postponed the task of adorning your house with Christmas stuff until now. Between Leon’s job and your newfound activity (taking care of your 1 year old daughter) it’s been nearly impossible to find enough time to dedicate yourself to this special holiday. 

Leon had told you it was more than okay if you wanted to do it by yourself. He knew how much you love this holiday. And ever since halloween ended, you found yourself eager to buy even more stuff to fill your home with. Nonetheless, you waited for your husband. There was no way you would let this opportunity slip away.

And, as you walked into the living room carrying a box albeit Leon’s constant bickering about how you shouldn’t lift heavy things, your heart melted at the sight of Leon placing a christmas hat on you guys’ daughter, which was too big on her and partially covered her sight.

“Da-da” With the baby on his hip, Leon was once again trying to teach his daughter how to say his “name.” It all started with a simple joke about him being the favorite parent, but now it has turned into a serious situation, at least for him. He wanted his daughter to master the art of speaking before Christmas. Although he has noticed that his little one barely said anything else than babbling nonsense. She was almost there, those bwaaah would turn into dada, he was sure.

She had none of that, though. As soon as Leon started talking, she laughed. As if he was telling her the funniest joke ever. Your daughter had heart eyes for both of you, but you had to admit it – she was definitely a daddy's girl. The way her eyes get so big whenever she sees Leon, and how her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb each time he's feeding her – yeah, she loves her dad.

He was an expert in fatherhood. He had no recollection of ever taking care of kids before. But, as soon as his little girl was born, the father's instincts kicked in. The way her cries filled the hospital room made him want to turn off the world for a second and give his daughter and wife a well-deserved moment of peace.

However, he never thought his life would get so lucky that he would get to experience being a dad. Ever since he was born, he was surrounded by disaster and misfortune. Having to grow up at an orphanage wasn't the most ideal place to mold a child into a perfect human being, but it seems that the little time he had spent with his parents shaped him correctly.

“Ma-ma.” You walked behind Leon and placed a hand on his other hip. Your baby instantly kicked her little feet in excitement for seeing her mom. Maybe she's a mama's girl, too.

“Hey! She was almost saying dada.” Leon feigned disappointment as you tried luring your daughter into saying mama first. This was a competition between you and Leon. Which prize will be having the satisfaction of being the “favorite parent.”

“Yeah of course. My bad.” You chuckled, voice filled with sarcasm knowing that your daughter has been the laziest of babies. Most 1 year old babies already say mama or dad. Or both. Yet this little rascal just likes existing, eating, sleeping, and exploring.

Leon saw you carrying a box and sighed in mild disappointment. You could already hear him saying “I told you not to carry heavy things.” Ever since you recovered from surgery, he has gotten even more doting. Every need of you was met by the second, and you wouldn't complain, but you're still a functional adult who can actually lift boxes.

You remember when things didn't used to be like this. In the past, you weren't instantly devoted and whipped for the man that is now teaching your daughter how to say dada. You remember how your past self leaned over the counter, you were met by an usual reek of alcohol this man had. And, with a witty and drunk smile, he said his usual line.

“Another bottle here.” It was his third one that night. Not his third glass, his third bottle. He was slowly killing his liver and himself by the way kept drowning in this deadly and burning liquid. You had never met him before, but the way his dark blue eyes sometimes shone under the dim light, you knew he once was someone important. Or at least, someone needed.

“That would be your third one tonight.” You stated matter-of-factly. However, Leon didn't miss the way you refused to move and get him his booze. 

“Look at that… Smarty knows her numbers. Aren't you so, so clever?” The disdain in his voice had reached your ears. He was never the talkative client, he just spent all of his nights at your bar and drank to his heart's content. You know you shouldn't stick your nose in someone else's business yet you couldn't bear nor allow him to basically kill himself in front of you.

“Now can you please shut up and serve me another bottle.” He groaned as the empty bottle almost fell from the counter. His heavy eyelids almost closing if it wasn't from the fact that after the words he spat, you threw a glass of water to his face.

“You don't fucking talk to me like that.” Your usual warm and easy going self was long forgotten. No matter how many hardships and problems he may have, there was no way you would let him walk all over you like that. “I don't know what fucked up things you have experienced or how many people have betrayed you. But if you have time to drown yourself in this addiction and be mad about it, you also have time to make a change.”

Those words stuck with him. He knew he was being pathetic, Chris, Rebecca, hell even Claire had told him the same thing too. But he felt even more miserable when a random bartender called him out like that. Especially when you just needed to complete your job. Why would someone care? He pays, he gets his booze, repeat. But, you at least cared, even though it was something every rational human would do.

Eventually, his daily dose of booze decreased. You witnessed the small changes in him. Going from three bottles to just one, and to finally a few glasses. You witnessed how his usual dark clothes were replaced with a somewhat more colorful attire which brought out his once dull and empty blue eyes.

His slender frame slowly took form, recovering his muscles which were more visible now. His stubble remained, though. It was like a reminder of his own age – and his now different approach in life. Wiser and more careful with his own decisions. Your words didn't completely change him, but they surely helped him to see his life in another light.

Ultimately, a new Leon set foot in your bar. He was beaten up, his navy blue shirt had some blood spots while his dark brown hair was disheveled. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder. “If you ever need a tour guide in San Francisco let me know.” He said with a charming smile as you moved around your area of work. 

“I'll keep that in mind. What can I get you?” You chuckled as you went to retrieve his order. You could already hear him say it.

“Grape juice...” 

“And your number.”

Soft whines pulled you back from your trance as your babygirl grips on Leon's shirt. She wipes her face against the fabric. The little one was starting to get fuzzy since nap time had come. 

“Oh, someone is sleepy.” He coos, bringing her closer to his chest. Leon takes off the little Christmas hat that was on her head. Immediately, the little one brings her hand to her hair. She has picked up the habit to caress her own hair when falling asleep. Before she even gets to cry, Leon rocks her to sleep. His deep voice soothes her, the gentle tunes of a Christmas song was his choice of the day.

“May your days be merry and bright and may all your christmases be white.” Leon wasn’t the best of the singers but he would sing his heart out to his daughter. It was a tradition now since Leon never had someone to sing to him. The baby calmed down at a comical rate, as if she just needed her dad’s embrace to feel safe. She was safe. As long as Leon lives, you and his miracle would have the best life ever.

“I’m almost jealous, she falls asleep so fast with you.” You set down the box, stretching your arms. This is the first box out of so many, you weren’t the biggest spender nor a shopaholic but when you married Leon, some perks came with him. Those perks included having unlimited access to his black card which you use wisely. 

Wisely was an understatement, though. Having several copies of the same gingerbread man who dances every time you press a button wasn’t the wisest decision. But you and your daughter love it so Leon has to shut up. Everything for his family.

In the past, Christmas was a simple but dreadful date. He didn’t understand the point of it. When he was a rookie cop, he at least tried to force some polite smiles and give words of affirmations to his colleagues back at the police academy. He stupidly thought that once he got to work, his life would change. But the universe had other plans for him that night in September. He spent that year’s Christmas wishing to die. The government had taken away his right to end his life. Dying wasn't an option. The girl he saved back in Raccoon City, Sherry, needed him. 

Year after year, he grew resentful, angry and bitter. He expected to spend this holiday alone until his last days of life. Having to grow old and wither away, no one to care, no one who would remember him as a human and not a machine. Not the government’s lap dog.

But somehow, he met you. He was a dick at first, he knew it. Until this day, he never understood how you could choose him.  There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go back to his addiction one day. He vowed to never do it again, and he was sure to keep his promise. However, you could never know the extent of his words. You lived –at least to Leon– uncertain of how long he would be sober. But much to his dismay (or pleasure) you gave a chance to that renewed man, to that agent who had come from a mission in San Francisco that almost got him killed.

He was content with just you. He never asked for more, scared of being too greedy, too wishful. Your presence was enough for him, your smile made all of his problems go away. Your tender words were the medicine for his broken and beaten up heart, every last bit of self hatred went away with you. There was nothing else he wanted.

Until he realized that maybe, he could have the life he had always wanted.

When you announced you were expecting, Leon couldn’t show his happiness at first. He was scared. Hell, he even had to take a deep breath before telling you something. He never had a father, well he had one but his memories are too foggy. He grew up thinking kids were a mistake and that somehow, he was a mistake, too. 

He found himself slipping into the unborn baby's room when you were asleep. Watching how both of you have decorated the space where your little one will be welcomed. His fingers grazed over the white crib, already imagining what his daughter would look like. He likes to think he looks like his own mother, a blurry memory of her blonde hair swaying with the wind. His daughter will have a better life than his. He's going to fight for it.

His eyes would travel over your body. He knew how anatomy worked but watching it before his eyes was so extraordinary. Your little miracle was safely tucked inside of your belly. He has always known you were beautiful but damn – it seems that motherhood suits you a little too well. He was grateful, really grateful. You gave him the opportunity to indulge in the normal and domestic kind of life. 

“She's already asleep.” Your sweet voice called him, bringing him back to the present. While he was reminiscing about the past, the baby had already fallen asleep. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she breathed softly. Her tiny fingers still gripping his shirt.

“She's so lazy.” Leon whispered, his voice filled with softness and lighthearted teasing. He gently laid her on the couch, making sure to place some pillows around her in case she moved. A welcomed and soothing silence surrounded your still not decorated room. This was the perfect opportunity to start your Christmas task.

“You know… Now you can help me put up the countless decorations we have in these boxes.” You chuckled as you placed your hand on Leon’s cheek, your thumb grazing against the growing stubble. You loved moments like this where the only thing that lingered in the air was normalcy and harmony, no missions, no worries, just a happy family. 

“I’ll help you if you promise you won’t judge my artistic side.” His lips turned into a sly smirk before he pressed soft kisses against your lips. A sweet yet sincere demonstration of love. He always worries he’s not enough. You play your role as wife and mother, so he ought to be the best husband and father he can be while also balancing his job life. No bioweapon could compare with the fear of losing his own little family because of himself.

Time seems to fly when you’re surrounded with love, Leon lives by that saying. You both decided to put up the tree first since that’s the most arduous task to complete. It takes you almost an hour between placing the ornaments in the correct place and Leon being scolded because he can’t match colors even if his life depended on it. 

“Now big boy, you gotta put the star at the top.” You crossed your arms as Leon placed the last ornament on the tree. It wasn’t the best tree, especially since Leon didn’t give any artistic advice on his side. Some colors looked rather odd combined with others, but Leon thought it was abstract.

Almost inaudible babblings made you turn around and found your baby already awake. She was playing by herself, her hands reaching for the ceiling. You had to admit it – she was sometimes an angel. She easily entertained herself and barely cried. 

You reached for her and walked toward the tree. Now her fingers tried to grab the Christmas ornaments. The colors reflecting on her blue eyes – that she got from Leon. By the way she kept babbling nonsense it almost looked like she was talking.

“Huh? Right I told your mom that too but she didn’t like the idea.” Leon acted like he understood what the little one was saying. And she also engaged in the conversation, two people against your own ideas.

For a few minutes, you focused on your daughter and how amazed she seems to be with everything. In her own world, that tree was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

But out of nowhere, both of you looked back at Leon who was sniffing and gently sobbing in front of the tree.

“Sorry, sorry…” He chuckled before wiping away some of the tears that continued falling without stopping. He then waved his hand dismissively, expecting you to drop the subject. Now he had two pairs of eyes intensely looking at him, yours and your baby’s.

After a short while of him trying to keep his tears of joy at bay, he eventually spoke once again.

“Thank you. For… For this.” A gentle smile formed in his face as he opened his arms. You wasted no time to welcome the hug. Now, the three of you were in front of the Christmas tree. The babbling, the sobs, and the soothing music in the background formed a domestic and warm scene. Full of love, emotions, and devotion. His thank you conveyed so much more than just merely words of gratitude. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for believing in me, and thank you for marrying me and thank you for giving me the family I never had. He wanted to say those things, but he remained silent. He knew you would understand the meaning behind his simple thank you.

He would have never expected something like this. He had always thought he was doomed from the start. That his life would be about saving others and never being saved. But he was saved, and he will always be saved.

His daughter’s hands reached for his face, her fingers grabbing his cheeks and nose. Leon obliged, moving his face closer. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until her lips moved on her own.

“Dada!”

He will never shut up now.

[callmemrskenway]

if you haven’t tried it yet, may i try requesting a yandere mayor from lmk? if you’re not down for that could we try a yandere Spider Crew or a Yandere Jin & Yun?

I'll do the Mayor and Jin and Yin!

Tw. Toxic relationship behaviors, yandere stuff, yeah. Honestly, I like writing yandere requests so thank you anon!

If you are in a relationship and see any of these unhealthy behaviors, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 or 1-800-787-3224

Yandere! Mayor:

- I feel like...the Mayor is a Yandere by default? Like, we see his loyal and dedication to the Lady Bone Demon so imagine that loyalty and dedication directed in a romantic way towards someone.

- He was unaware that he'd be able to feel emotions again, especially one such as love. It makes him giddy and at first, he wants to see where it goes. He's content with simply watching you at first.

- Making notes and observations about you, internally squealing about how cute you are whenever you sense his presence at night but can never find him because he's hiding in the shadows. Aw, he just thinks it's adorable the way you look around knowing he's there but can never spot him♡

- He likes seeing people in pain and causing misfortune upon his enemies but its the opposite with his darling. That's not to say he isn't gonna use fear or intimidation to keep you with him because he will. But instead of hurting YOU, he hurts everyone around you. Telling you with a smile that you can make it stop at anytime! You just have to accept his love and submit to him completely.

- He isn't really gonna kidnap you after he reveals his true colors and what he is, and he's not really worried about you escaping because, well, where could you POSSIBLY go that you could escape him? He'll hunt you down, he'll destroy anyone he has too, and he'll be smiling happily when he does it and laughs because, man, you're really bad at hide and seek♡

- But don't get me wrong, he's definetly doting towards you though if you behave for him and he'd be more than happy to do anything you please. Obviously he still answers to the Lady Bone Demon but he'd hold you both in equal contempt but he can't make it obvious, after all, he may be loyal but he knows better than to tell LBD that his loyalty to you are as strong as hers.

- The only difference is if you ask for something from him, he demands a small price. Its nothing bad, mostly just things like words of praise, an hour of mutual cuddling and not trying to get put of his arms, or a little kiss on the cheek!

Yandere! Jin:

BTW, Yin and Jin would have separate darlings in these headcanons but they hang out-

- He and Yin definetly help each other with their own darlings (assuming they're not pining after the same person) but one problem is that Jin is a lot more impulsive than Yin. It annoys his brother so much that they come up with a foolproof plan but then Jin sees you SMILE at another guy and then a few minutes later, he's bringing you back to their base as your kicking and screaming.

- Once he has you he...has no idea what to do with you. He doesn't want you to hate him or be scared of him but let's be honest, he's a demon that kidnapped you. Yin doesn't blame you for being mad at his brother but he does advise you to be a little less stubborn because Jin is capable of punishing his darling (mostly things that leave bruises but no scars and he is apologetic later).

- He does treat you pretty well honestly and is super affectionate because YAY! YOU'RE HERE WITH HIM! WHERE YOU BELONG! He adores having you absolutely DRIPPED OUT IN GOLD. It's the perfect way to show everyone that you belong to him and he likes to get you new shiny golden jewelry to wear!

- Escaping him the first time is relatively easy, he's a bit delusional in the sense that he thinks the both of you are soulmates so if you give him the slightest bit of affection here, some lovely nothings there, and lots of kisses then it doesn't take him long to be convinced that you've finally given into him.

- But he's in for a reality check when you make your first escape. However, Jin is really persistent and insanely determined to get you back to him and when he does, he's furious with you. SOMEONE OUT HERE COULD'VE HURT YOU. As if he hasn't been the biggest threat to you.

- He and Yin do make sure their darlings like each other but they never leave them alone together for too long because they know they might try to hatch a plan to escape. So yeah, you mostly interact with Yin's darling and you both are just straight up not having a good time but at least you're not suffering alone.

- Overall, he's a very short tempered person but as the "relationship" progresses, he will try to chill out and be more nicer to you but the best strategy to go with him is to just be affectionate and play into his delusions or else he gets the teensiest bit pissed off.

Yin:

- Still impulsive and delusional but he isn't as impatient as his brother, he doesn't mind romancing you into his arms. Yeah, he'll have to build a friendship with you somehow (either in disguise and revealing himself as a demon later or just trying to convince you he's a nice demon) but he's willing to learn how to woo you to be his.

- He's so much more mopey than Jin when you find out he's been stalking you BEFORE you became friends because he TRIED SO HARD AND HE WAS SO CLOSE and he seems to fail to see the situation from your point of view WHERE HE WAS TRYING TO MANIPULATE YOU INTO A RELATIONSHIP FROM THE START.

- THE THING IS IS THAT IT KINDA WORKS BUT NOT BECAUSE HE'S ACTING, HE JUST GENUINELY GETS SHY AND 2X DUMBER AROUND YOU. He's not sure how or why a human is able to get this reaction out of him, LIKE YOU'RE SO CUTE. Definetly thinks about just flat out kidnapping you the closer and closer you two become.

- Out of the both of them, you most likely develop Stockholm syndrome or you get used to him the most. He's more paranoid when it comes to his darling though so he takes a lot more precautions.

- Just as gullible as Jin though where you give him the slightest bit of affection and he absolutely melts, downside is it makes him feel more delusional and that he can cuddle, hug, and kiss you whenever he wants.

- He doesn't want to physically punish you but he does do things like limit your contact with people or threaten your loved ones but he doesn't really last long because even he also feel guilty and caves in a bit earlier.

- HE DOES LOVE YOU SO MUCH. HE ADORES YOU AND WANTS TO TREAT YOU TO ALL THE SHINY THINGS HE HAS so please, just love him back, please, please, please-

[liarian]

If this were a shojo

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

In most manga and anime they made high school life seem like those were going to be the best years of their lives. Cultural festivals, end-of-year trips, sneaking kisses and the wonderful discovery of first love. Arataka would have been a horrible protagonist of the typical shojo. With just under two months left until graduation, he felt as if he had skipped everything that should have made his student life exciting.

The cultural festivals had been hours of listening to class girls giving orders, carrying boxes, hearing how he didn't know how to do anything well, and hanging around late when he could have been wasting his time with Serizawa or helping Kageyama-san.

About the end of the school year trip, he hadn't even told his parents. The idea of spending a week with the rest of his class was not what Arataka understood as thrilling.

And about first love... Taka was curious about what it must be like to kiss someone. Going to college without ever having kissed anyone sounded like the perfect description of pathetic but it wasn't going to be anything new either. Would Serizawa have kissed anyone by now? Girls had to find him attractive with his height. Taka had seen him shirtless more than once and it was hard not to be envious when next to him Taka was nothing more than a scrawny rat.

Arataka yawned, too bored to pay attention as the teacher continued to talk and write on the board. The letter was still occupying much of his thoughts. There were barely ten minutes left in class when Arataka pulled it out of the drawer again.

He still couldn't quite believe that someone wanted to ask him out. That was one of those things he was convinced was never going to happen before he got to college.  Suddenly, he felt like he had reached another level after passing a secret test he didn't even know existed. Having a girlfriend had to make him more popular, right?

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

Taka got up from his seat, hanging up his open backpack and striding out the door. Still undecided between walking and running, Taka zigzagged, dodging people until he reached the stairs. He almost made it down the entire block in one leap, his feet echoing as he hit the landing. At last he started to run.

"Sorry!" Arataka yelled, turning around for a moment to apologize to the first-year girl he had nearly run over in his haste.

"Jerk" the girl snarled, straightening her skirt.

Taka ignored her completely and kept running. He barely even had time to put on his sneakers between bounces before he found himself kicking up the gravel on the sand path that led up to the gym.

He could barely breathe when he finally stopped. Maybe it had been a bad idea. Taka pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, it had barely been five minutes since classes had ended. Sweat plastered his bangs to his forehead and he felt overheated. Bent in on himself, he forced himself to breathe. His side was prickling from the effort. Taka dropped against the back wall of the gym and closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. The sound of laughter brought him to attention. Arataka noticed his whole body tense up as he saw the five boys approaching.

"You came? Really?" Taka recognized Sato. He had had the misfortune of going with him as well when they were still in elementary school and they had never liked each other. "Did you really think anyone would want to go out with you?"

"If an ape like you has a girlfriend, I don't understand why not." Arataka shrugged. With his hands in his pockets, he began to move forward, trying for a hole to slip through. "Well, I guess that's it then, isn't it, I've bought it! Now you can have a good laugh at my expense."

"You heard him! He called me an ape! He thinks he's so funny!"

For a second, Arataka was convinced he would make it out unscathed, but a hand grabbed him by the shoulder before he made it back to the stream of students leaving class.

"What's the hurry?" Taka noticed Sato's arm slither behind his neck like a snake coiling around its prey. "After going to so much trouble. I just wanted you to join us for a while."

"No, thank you." Arataka tried to break the contact. "I have to go to work."

"Did you hear that? He doesn't want to come with us." Sato said, slapping him on the cheek. "For old time's sake? Or are you scared?"

"Scared? Of what? Of assholes like you?"

Sato punched him in the stomach, managing to knock him out of breath for a second and took the opportunity to steal his phone from his pocket. Maybe someday Taka would learn to keep his mouth shut but it was clear that day wasn't today.

"Give it back!" Arataka stretched out his arm trying to retrieve it but the pain managed to bend him back on himself. "Sato! Give it back now!"

"If you don't need it for anything! I think I'm going to keep it." Sato pocketed it. "Buy us takoyaki, huh?"

"If I do, will you give me the phone back?" Taka sighed wearily. He'd been a jerk for thinking that maybe something good could happen today.

"I'll think about it." Sato's snarky smile didn't give him any confidence.

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

Arataka barely had three hundred yen left in his pocket after paying for everyone's takoyaki and drinks but Sato still didn't seem determined to return him the phone. Arataka was growing suspicious that at no time had that been the plan but he didn't know what else to do either. It would have been so easy, if he had had powers like Serizawa... Taka rubbed his eyes. He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed and forget that day had ever existed. Revenge was going to be terrible. Arataka might be an outcast in class, but he wasn't going to let himself be caught off guard again. He had long since stopped paying attention to his surroundings when he realized where they were.

"Where do you guys want to go?" Taka asked somewhat nervously. "Over here there's nothing."

The house that still plagued all his nightmares appeared in front of his eyes as soon as they turned the corner. The FOR SALE sign had lost all traces of color years ago, and the broken window panes behind the pieces of wood boarding up the gaps gave it a very creepy look.

"Brings back memories?" Sato smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, are you still afraid of the dark?"

Arataka barely had time to react. One instant, his cell phone was in Sato's hands and the next second, it had disappeared through one of the holes left by the wood boarding up the front door. Taka noticed how all the color disappeared from his face.

"Are you going to piss yourself?" Laughter rang cruelly in his ears as they walked away down the street. "Did you see the look on his face?"

The last lights of the day were beginning to fade behind the row of abandoned houses but the street seemed to be in complete darkness. Taka tried to control the trembling in his hands. That day, Sato's was the last face he had seen before the door closed behind him.

[straightfacedstrangeness]

Ideas for a less #Problematic Charlie & The Chocolate Factory

Inspired by thoughts about the differences between the book and two movies (dunno anything about the stage plays) and the current scandal about a publisher heavily revising Dahl's books.

Disclaimer that my feelings are mixed on the topic of revision without an author's consent and I won't go into that here. These are ideas that would apply to a hypothetical adaptation rather than changing the text of the original book. Mostly just having a bit of fun.

Oompa-Loompas: Once the thought occurred to me I was stunned that this hasn't come up in any of the adaptations (that I know of), but since they're already described as being improbably small, sing songs, and delight in the misfortune of others, they should probably just explicitly be Fey Folk rather than indigenous foreign humans smuggled to England in boxes. They come to Wonka asking for jobs rather than vice-versa, and they provide the practical know-how and/or magic to make Wonka's fantastical ideas real. Bonus meta-joke points if "Oompa-Loompa" isn't the name of their people but the acronym of their labor union.

The Kids: The story is structured as a moral tale where naughty children are punished, but as has been often criticized or joked about, a lot of the punishments seem disproportionate to their crime. So this section will take a lot of cues from the Tim Burton movie where the kids are more despicable and the parents' treatment of them is highlighted. For full moral tale impact, the kids learn a lesson and change from their experience, and Wonka as their judgmental god (or Charlie as Wonka's successor) rewards them for changing.

Augustus Gloop: Focus on his unhealthy diet rather than his size. His parents are too busy or lazy to cook and only feed him junk food and takeout. When they're leaving the factory, his parent insists that they go back and demand the lifetime supply of candy they were promised, but Augustus groans that he never wants to taste chocolate again. He's so traumatized by half-drowning in chocolate that he can't stand the taste of sugar and therefore can't eat anything his parents used to serve him. They're forced to take up cooking and find that they enjoy it since Augustus is such an appreciative audience. He grows up to be a cook himself and partners with Wonka to make a line of ultra-healthy candies.

Violet Beauregarde: Like the 2005 version, she's ultra-competitive with parents who push her to win at everything she does, reveling in the fame she gets. She insists on being the first into the factory, and she has the line (rather than her parent) about being the first person to eat a chewing-gum meal. When they leave the factory after her juicing, her parent is frustrated but remarks that at least she'll still have time to make it to one of her dozens of lessons/practices/rehearsals. Violet refuses, saying she feels "drained" and just wants to go home to take a nap. As Violet remains blue, the whole family finds they hate the unrelenting 24/7 attention from paparazzi and passersby taunting the blueberry girl who got kicked out of Wonka's factory. They stop seeking the spotlight and instead go into hiding. When Wonka develops a cure, he gives it to them along with the resources they need to live incognito far away, where they find they quite enjoy the quiet lifestyle of an unremarkable, ordinary family.

Veruca Salt: As in every version, a selfish entitled girl whose rich parents give her everything she wants. When they leave the factory covered in garbage Veruca berates her parent for letting her go after the squirrel, "if you REALLY loved me you'd have STOPPED me." Her shame and garbage chute trauma lead into a tantrum when she gets home where she can't stand the sight of any of the things she'd demanded from her parents and starts throwing them all away. Someone sees her do it, asks for something, and Veruca pushes it on them in disgust, but their gratitude makes Veruca realize she prefers being liked over being feared, and she grows to be incredibly generous. (She also convinces her parents to pay a settlement rather than fight the charges when they get into trouble for diverting their entire workforce to unwrapping candy bars for their daughter.) Wonka helps her set up a charity to provide for the less fortunate.

Mike Teavee: Emphasize that he's obsessed with TV to the exclusion of everything else. His parents neglect him, just plopping him in front of the TV instead of playing or talking with him, so he's completely sedentary and has no social skills. He rushes into Wonkavision not to experience teleportation, but to be inside his beloved TV. After the taffy-puller overstretches him to a ridiculous height, play off the book line about how basketball teams will want him and he gets recruited to one. This gets him out of the house and exercising and socializing, and taking him to games makes his parents more involved in his life. He appears in TV ads for Wonka taffy encouraging kids to go outside and play.

Etc: This part is more of a ramble than a pitch, haha. No particular thoughts on Wonka, Charlie, or the other Buckets since I find all interpretations interesting and valid:

Book Wonka as a grown-up kid looking for a kid who understands him (though the morality tale aspect emphasizes a "well-behaved" kid who won't get into trouble, and indicates an "obedient" kid who will follow Wonka's methods without questioning or altering them);

1970s Wonka as a lying trickster who's been betrayed and is looking for someone honest that he can trust, and who will trust him (Charlie taking the Wonkavision bar when asked VS Mike refusing to try since he's sure it's impossible);

2005 Wonka as an antisocial loner who learns to care about others through Charlie's love and empathy (aside from the obvious scenes of Charlie valuing his family, he's constantly asking Wonka questions about himself, caring about Wonka as a person rather than focusing on the factory like everyone else).

Apparently some stage versions have Wonka living in disguise as the candy man at Charlie's local shop, and deliberately slipping Charlie the Golden Ticket, which is interesting but definitely makes him more conniving and less whimsical VS the other versions leaving his search for an heir completely up to chance. Then again it's pretty conniving to announce the Golden Ticket competition and send your sales skyrocketing as the whole world searches for em, haha.

The 1970s version eliminating Charlie's father to put the pressure on Mom and Charlie to take care of the whole family, and to present Wonka as a replacement father figure, is dramatic and fun, and I also love the 2005 version's arc of Mr. Bucket being replaced by a robot at the toothpaste factory (toothpaste sales skyrocketing along with Wonka candy sales) only to be hired back to repair said robot, getting the family out of trouble without needing Wonka's help.

TL;DR I'm thinking too hard about Chocolate Factory and my only solid conclusions are that the kids could better deserve and be changed by their fates, and all Wonkas are valid

[luckydragon10]

P&P Chapters 17 and 18

(Chapter 16)

At last, a little movement on the scoreboard!

Lizzy gets knocked down a peg to +20

Mr. Darcy holds completely still at -10.

~~~

Chapter 17

(Jane) and yet, it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham.

I think it's time to learn a new life skill.

I can't help but wonder how long this Significant Misunderstanding about things is going to last. Long misunderstanding? Short one? Middling? (No spoilers, please, just wondering aloud to myself.)

Lizzy: "...Besides, there was truth in his looks.”

OMG, stop relying on that as proof of honesty! I'm taking another 5 points off for frustrating me.

“While I can have my mornings to myself,” said she, “it is enough—I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.”

Marytron 2000 strikes again.

Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply.

After tripping herself up multiple times, finally she sees a battle she doesn't want to pick. Of course it's with her mother.

the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy.

...the heck is a shoe-rose? Anyone care to share a footnote?

~~~

Chapter 18

(Lizzy) She had dressed with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the evening.

I'm too demisexual for this nonsense. Child, you've spoken with him once before, and now you want him in love with you on the second meeting. *eyeroll* Moves as fast as a Disney princess, this one.

Lizzy: “Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil.”

Stubborn lil' thing. But funny.

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

Oh SOMEBODY finally remembered to take a modicum of charm with him when he left his house. Paltry, though cute, so no points given.

Is it just me or does Sir William Lucas ship Lizzy and Darcy? He absolutely ships it.

“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”

I'm giving him 5 points for bringing up a topic of mutual interest, even though Lizzy is not interested in playing along right now.

Meanwhile, Lizzy needs to be shaken. Well, I can kind of understand not wanting to take advice from someone she dislikes (Miss Bingley), but at the same time, girl, get some curiosity and find some facts, dammit.

Gossip gossip gossip, buncha gossip.

“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley’s sincerity,” said Elizabeth warmly; “but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only...."

HAVE SOME OF THAT SUSPICION TOWARD WICKY. OMG, Lizzy, you're killing me. You do this one more time, and I'm taking more points off.

Mr. Collins: “My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your understanding;..."

Oh just fry this guy in oil already. Drop kick him to the continent, please.

...was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.

I want to be left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken at every party.

(Lizzy) She looked at her father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”

Oh thank goodness. Finally, you've made a good contribution, Mr. Bennet.

She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins’s conversation to herself.

Charlotte is the true MVP of this book. Favorite. New blorbo unlocked.

(Chapters 19 and 20)

[wri0thesley]

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed – yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

[lupically]

#F40B32 | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

genre | light fluff, light angst, very faint romance undertone 

word count | 2616

warning | mention of death, mention of injury, mention of killing, decapitation 

note | i just wanted to try my hand at writing for a villain that is obviously irredeemable in a semi-realistic way.

what happens when you are irredeemable? you will fall in love anyway.

but ryomen sukuna wasn't in love with you. after all, he had killed you one too few times to claim that he was in love with you.

the first time he killed you was out of instinct. you were an intruder touching his soul the way mahito did, except you barged in without any malicious intention. he had gazed over your fallen body with mild interest then; a mere mortal, yet you emerged from thin air into his locked tight domain without dying?

the second time he killed you was a choice. he gave you not a minute to explain yourself, even though you had wasted the minute asking questions about his identity and the skull-filled area instead of giving him any valuable information about yourself. he had been fed up, he was never a man of patience, so he killed you with a wave of his hand and returned to his dull life alone on his throne.

the third time he killed you—he did not kill you. there was no third time; people liked to say the third time's charm but sukuna believed no such superstition. he killed you twice already and each time, you came back unscathed, both your body and your memories. whether he liked it or not, killing you for the third time would do neither you nor him any benefit, so he kept you alive.

you were afraid of him. he could tell, and he meant for things to be that way until he realized it served as a misfortune on his part. in order to understand this mystery—your sudden appearance into his domain, as well as your inability to leave it and his inability to kick you out—he has to gain some piece of information about you, but you were too shaken up from being murdered to talk to him at all.

sukuna's patience was reaching a breaking point and he thought about torturing it out of you, but he understood that humans are fragile, way more fragile than your typical jujutsu sorcerer. he could accidentally kill you and you would return with no scars and more unwilling to converse with him than before. then it was the waiting game all over again.

he wasn't planning on going through such a dull ordeal again, so he left you be and waited for you to calm yourself down.

the first time you talked to him, you asked him a question.

"are you going to kill me?" you asked him.

sukuna peered down at you from his throne. small, frightened, curled into a ball with no desire to touch the skeletons at his feet, but you looked up at him out of politeness.

he scoffed, displeased. "no, but i always can."

the second time you talked to him, it was to exchange a brief introduction.

"ryomen sukuna," he hummed curtly then he nudged his chin toward you. "your turn."

you shuffled up to your knees and sat down on your heels. your fingers fidgetted at your lap as you timidly peered up at his tattooed, disinterested expression.

"[full name]," you said with a nod, unable to meet his eyes. "nice–nice to meet you, sukuna-san..."

the third time you talked to him, you flinched.

"ma–may i ask you two questions... if i can...?" you asked, for the first time standing up to face him directly.

sukuna leaned away from his propped-up arm. after taking a better look at you, accessing your figure analytically despite having seen you move around slowly for days already, he shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robe and he suddenly jumped down from his throne to stand before you.

you pursed your lips nervously over his looming figure, face heating up with terrible anxiety while your eyes darted down to the watery ground. oh, his presence has been so overwhelmingly deadly that you forgot your white tennis shoes were stained red and your pastel ankle socks remained wet. you did not dare to complain, not even in your head.

"i'll allow it," he said.

"where am i?" you quickly asked.

"an innate domain," he replied.

you have questions, but you decided not to ask. you only nodded after breathing out a soft sigh to calm your nerves. this man constantly sounded condescending, he was kicking open your comfort zone without actively doing anything that would make you uncomfortable.

"okay..." you said, "thank you."

"aren't you going to ask me another question?" he stated with a raise of his brow. "you wanted to ask me two questions."

you gulped, blinking hopelessly at the air as a grimace appeared on your face. "the first question was if i can ask you two questions, and the second one is about where i am... so that makes two."

oh, a meticulously cautious one, and somewhat humorous too he would give you that. sukuna scoffed loudly, but it was less out of annoyance and more out of disbelief of your incredible dullness. however, as plain as you were, he has grown accustomed to your presence; the scent of fear that bounced off of you and the fact that he cannot kill you at will.

"you must be dying to know what this place is, are you not, you brat?" sukuna asked.

when he saw the flashes in your eyes, he knew he had you down through and through. all you were was but someone who was too afraid to say what they want, which was just as he expected from you. you wouldn't cause him trouble, you never could.

reaching his hand out of his sleeve, he stayed silent despite seeing the way you flinched with your eyes shut at his raised hand. his movement had been slow, but that was an involuntary response, an instinct that he didn't craft into you. he wondered what it was.

"you can ask me three more questions," he said as he pushed the heel of his palm against the curve of your head. he was gentle at first, then he clamped his hand down on your head as he bent his waist to meet your eyes. he laughed. "i'll allow it."

he could keep you here. he has no choice but to keep you here, and he would kill you once he realized he has the ability to. but for now, perhaps he could act a little civil, something like a human being but one that people would hate to the core.

except he was met with a little obstacle in the way, which was that you were no bad company.

the first time sukuna gained a liking toward you was when you asked him a peculiar question.

"sukuna-san," you called one time when there was only silence within the innate domain.

you sat on a bed of skulls, one that you tentatively asked the king of curses to make you so you wouldn't have to lean on the rib-cage structure and sit in water for slumber.

he denied it at first. calling you names and threatening you about ever requesting something from him—a bed in his domain? fucking atrocious. but your insomnia was killing you; you hated the blood water and your neck burned whenever you wake up having it arched at the worst angle possible.

he did not grow soft. he just made one so he didn't have to watch you sleep in his peripheral vision.

"hmm."

"why do you think curses exist?"

he raised a brow at you. "did i not teach you that before?"

"you did, sorry," you nodded, "then do you believe in god?"

"where the fuck is this coming from, you brat?"

"from where i came, god is good. but from what i am seeing, whether from where i came from or here, everything goes against that value," you muttered loudly as you pulled at your fingers. "cursed spirits harm people. if i can argue that way, i think cursed spirits are harmful within themselves."

"if god is good, and god is real, why would this happen," you said. "why should we feel negative emotions? why do we have the ability to create cursed spirits? why do curses like you exist?"

he furrowed his brows in irritation. have you reduced him to mere curses? have you reduced him to nothing but a brainless being that only takes joy in the suffering of others? no matter how he approached your words, he felt infuriated that you could minimize his importance to simply being a bad person.

he was much more than a bad person, much more than just a pain! he has ideals, he has goals and ambitions, he has wit and strength! he has anger and malevolence and power beyond which your soul could ever contain and endure! he was ryomen sukuna, the strongest curse in a thousand years and more!

he will fucking kill you.

"i'm really glad you're here, though," you finished off softly, an unknowing smile on your face as you rubbed your thumbs weakly together.

he will kill you.

"for a long time, i was told my anger and hatred aren't real. that they don't and should not exist, and i learned to bury them to the ground so they never appear on the surface again," you said, your innocent smile audible to his ears and making his chest twitch with guilt.

"cursed spirits' existence is proof that my negative emotions are real. they may be a problem, but i am not crazy for having them because they're here. they became something, they're here and alive."

he will... he will kill you.

"i just think it's unfair to put the blame on cursed spirits and cursed energy alone when the society's standard guarantees the manifestation of them," you said. "if my anger got out to the world in the form of a monster and it hurt someone, i'll forgive it. i will forgive myself."

he...

"you don't need to hear this, i wish i had your confidence, but i have to say it," you looked up and smiled at him, "i'm a little glad you're here, sukuna-san."

he will kill–he will ki–

the second time, he went stoic.

mahito was too smart for his own good. the first thing he noticed when he entered the soul within yuji's body was the way sukuna has the collar of your shirt clutched in his hand and your body pulled close to his side. it was a glance, he had one small glimpse of you both before he was kicked out of the domain.

your face was riddled with tears—crying, disappointed, and frustrated, but why? for the transfigured human whose name mahito almost forgot, or because sukuna just had one of the most sadistic outbursts you have ever witnessed.

and sukuna, the king, the lord, the almighty—didn't he look annoyed. well, not annoyed, per se. angry, mad, overwhelmed, knowing, protective. very, very, very protective; glowing eyes that glared at mahito's patched up face, fingers that gripped at your shirt so tightly he could rip the fabric apart, an aura that was ready to spit any moment if mahito so much as reach a finger toward your direction.

you meant something to ryomen sukuna. mahito realized that, so the second time he entered the innate domain, he killed you.

right before his eyes, with a cunning and triumphant smile, your neck cracked and your skin broke, and mahito tore your head off just before he was once again beat out of the domain.

sukuna tried to heal you. he tried to seal your head back to your lifeless body, time and time again pushing your decapitated head against your haphazardly cut neck. but his reverse curse technique wasn't healing you. your skin refused to piece itself back together, you refused to come back to him. time passed and he was getting mad, he was going batshit crazy trying to force himself out of this body.

bastard! bastard! bastard! he was supposed to kill you! he was supposed to be the one to kill you! he would murder that patch-faced piece of shit! he would kill mahito! and he would destroy the whole world, light it on fire and kill all that wasn't worthy of his time! he would jump universes, light-years, the bloodstream of the galaxy to find you and bring you back to him. he would—

"sukuna-san, i'm sorry i took a while! i thought you were fighting–holy shit, is that me?"

the third time, sukuna admitted to himself.

"what kind of flowers do you like, sukuna-san?" you asked, voice drowsy and your legs dangling after you climbed on one of the bones of the rib-cage structure.

"why does it matter?" he asked from his throne, eyeing you carefully.

your were a clumsy idiot. you could fall anytime.

"it doesn't, but it's flowers," you mumbled with your chin leaning against the bone, eyes threatening to close. "sukuna... sukuna..."

"what?" he snapped.

"i like lilies, the red ones," you said with a silly grin. "will you visit me when i die? sukuna... will you bring... mmm... bring red lilies..."

he looked ahead. your death; your grave, decorated with red lilies, protected and preserved with his curses. your death—he gritted his teeth. he refused to think about it. it was a waste of time.

or maybe he simply hated the idea of your death.

sukuna has not gone soft. he was irredeemable; a killer, a curse, a tragedy to descend upon mankind. he was not good and he never would be, nor did he ever have the intention to be good.

still, from you, there was proof that he could be more. what was left of his being; his anger and his torture, what was left within the gaps of his hell, the rare softness that once was there, belonged to you now.

you were the vessel that pocketed all that he could potentially become if he wasn't born to be ryomen sukuna, a version of him that you have witnessed. within you, there was proof that he did not only exist to hurt people, but also to validate madness and pain, to acknowledge passion in its murderous wakefulness. within you, there was proof that within himself, there are pieces of what it means to be human and alive.

hearing your soft breath, sukuna looked up to find you asleep with your head against the bone. your arms barely supported your weight and you were threatening to fall off as you dozed with faint snores. he stared at you, his fingers twitching, then he finally waved his hand so he could bring you away from the ribcage and to where he sat.

he paid no mind to subtlety when he set you on his lap. his hand supported your back while he kept your head pressed against his shoulder. his other arm went around your body, preventing you from falling off the throne made only for him to sit on. when he was done adjusting to the new sitting position, he relaxed.

brushing the hair away from your face, he stared down at you with disinterest, but his heart pumped and pumped for you to be warm and well, his arms tightened for you to sleep soundly.

"i will bring you all the red lilies you want," he whispered, the back of his finger gliding past your soft cheek. you did not smell like fear when you fall asleep, you did not smell like fear now even when you looked at him. "i will allow myself that."

after all, ryomen sukuna was only fond of you. very, very fond of you. 

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, stealing cultural landmarks, frustrated bucky

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: made a header 4 this fic but i couldn’t take it seriously enough <3 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! it’s always fun to hear from y’all. 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

It’s roughly a week before he sees you next.

Right on time too, according to the briefings he had received. Once a week you’d come up with your next batshit crazy idea and someone would be sent to make sure you didn’t execute it.

It was more of a babysitting gig than anything. Most people would do one, maybe two assignments before asking to not be sent again. 

He was not most people. He volunteers to go again. His afternoon is relatively free and he’s bored. 

Also, and more importantly, he needs to get out of the house before Sam finds out what he did.

“You’ll find her near the Statue of Liberty.”

“How do we know?”

“Oh, she tells us.”

“...she tells us where to find her?”

“Most times, yes. She says it’s time efficient.”

Absurd. He thinks you’re absurd.

Bucky finds you in line to board the ferry. You’re dressed to the nines like an obnoxious tourist, even though you were a local, topped with binoculars and a bucket hat. 

On an unrelated note, he thinks that maybe the mission today is to kill you for daring to wear sandals with socks like a suburban dad. A shudder runs through his body when he sees it.  

He’s wearing all black and a baseball cap. Somehow he’s standing out more than you are.

He boards the ferry behind you, keeping a close eye on all your movements. You take your place near the railing, a seat near the front of the boat. 

His phone rings. He answers it, expecting Sam to screech at him for painting Redwing neon pink again. He should have known it was coming after he shoved Bucky off the quinjet before he had time to strap his parachute on properly. 

“I thought I told you to bring a cape.” 

He quickly looks up at you but you’re not facing him. You have your phone held up to your ear, however.

“How did you get this number?” he asks icily.

“I knew you’d show up again.” Your head tilts to look at the statue in the distance. “Also, thanks for the door money, but I’m not sure I appreciate how you think the least creepy way to give someone money is to drop it off anonymously at their doorstep.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He swiftly gets up, stalking over to where you’re sitting. He was advised not to do anything aggressive. Advised was a flexible word. 

“Because I wasn’t going to answer it.” You look up at his figure looming over you. “Oh, hey.”

The phone is still pressed to the side of your face even though he’s right beside you. He cuts the call, shoving it back into his pocket.

“Allow me to introduce my pl-”

“What are you doing here?” He cuts to the chase. 

You send him a glare. “I was going to say it before you told me to. And sit down before everyone thinks you’re going to kill me.”

“Why are you going there?” He doesn’t have time for this, he thinks. He has important things to do. Like watching the reruns of Masterchef Junior. 

He sits in the seat beside you.

“Look at us.” You grin at him. “Me with the evilest outfit I could think of, you with your... Addams Family cosplay. We’re like, two peas in a po-”

“Start explaining,” he interjects. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to shrink the Statue of Liberty and use it as a keychain.”

“What?” It’s probably the most benign plan he’s ever heard in his life.

“I’m kidding.” Oh, good. “I’m not using it as a keychain, I’m taking it to class.” Nevermind. 

“What?” He finds himself repeating his previous question.

“I’m shrinking all the statues I can find. I want to use it in my classroom to teach the kids.”

“You’re... a teacher?” He blinks.

“You got a problem with that?” You look offended, to say the least. 

“No.” It’s not what he would peg your occupation as. He didn’t think you had one at all. “How are you planning on shrinking it?”

You rummage through the ugliest fanny pack he has ever had the misfortune of seeing. You pull out a small ring box, complete with a bow tied neatly on top. 

“I was saving this for our third anniversary, but-” you offer him a nervous laugh.

His stony expression doesn’t change, not even a blink. 

“Fine, Jesus, you’re no fun,” you huff, dropping the emotional act when he doesn’t look amused. 

You flip open the lid. Inside there are a few small disks. It looks familiar, he realises.

“Your friend Ant-Boy didn’t file a patent, so I just took his whole shtick.” He wants to defend Scott’s honour; it’s Ant-Man not boy. He doesn’t. He’s too transfixed on what you have in your hand.

“Pym particles.”

“The diet version.” You pick up one of them carefully. “A ripoff, but effective. Just gotta attach it to the thing I want to shrink and give it a few minutes.”

“You’re going to steal the Statue of Liberty,” he says, frankly a little taken aback that you were serious.

“Would you relax? I’ll put it back.”

“That’s not the point,” he damn near exclaims. “You can’t take away the Statue of Liberty just because you feel like it.”

“I literally can.” You point to the chips in your hand. “That’s the point of this, keep up.”

He feels exasperated. He didn’t sign up for this when he became an Avenger.

“Give me the box.” He makes a grab for it but you yank it away from his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I don’t have time for this.” His reruns would begin in an hour.

“That’s my problem, because...” you trail off. 

He rolls his eyes, makes a grab at the box again. His tactic is different this time. He stealthily pins one of your arms down so that you’re basically incapacitated.

“Hey! Stop that.” You fumble against his reach, shoving him with your elbow.

“Just give me the thing and we can all go home for the day,” he huffs, unfazed by your squirming.

“No! Over my dead bod-” 

He doesn’t immediately notice what goes wrong in the scuffle. 

Until you look at the ground near your feet. A disk lay there, undisturbed.

“Is that-” All of a sudden, either he’s getting taller or the ceiling of the boat is getting lower.

“Oops,” you say, not remorseful in the slightest. 

“Are we going to-”

“I’d give it five minutes max.” 

Great. He was stuck on a boat that was beginning to shrink. The other passengers were either oblivious or ignorant to seats that were starting to become too small for them, but Bucky’s heightened senses and extreme reflexes made it hard to skip.

He nudges the piece of tech with his foot. Maybe he can kick it off the boat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn solemnly. He wants to disagree but doesn’t know enough about the device to dispute you. 

“Fix this,” he hisses, panic slightly rising. His fingers find their way to his phone to send out an emergency text requesting backup and mass evacuation. 

“I think it’s a rather lovely day for a swim, don’t you?” You stare dreamily at the waves that were inching closer up the boat. 

Or you were inching closer to the water. Technicalities were frivolous. 

“There are other people on this boat.”

“River’s big enough for all of us, I reckon.”

“Fix it.” 

“Or what?” There’s a wicked gleam in your eye. “We both know I have the upper hand here.”

“Or I call the entirety of the Avengers here and haul your ass to prison.”

“Will they bring snacks?”

You’re insufferable. You know it. But you also are the fastest way to get out of this situation and right now, he didn’t want to be responsible for a shipwreck simulation. 

“Fine. Tell me what you want.”

“I like soy chips.”

“Soy chi-” He nearly throws his hands up in frustration. “You know what I’m talking about.” 

“I want one historical artifact so I can impress the kids. They think I’m the cool teacher and I want to keep that reputation alive.”

“What makes you think I can arrange for that?”

“You’ve been alive since goddamn dinosaurs roamed this earth, I’m sure you have some connections.” You pause to assess his face. “You know, you don’t look a day over 29. Dermatologists must hate yo-”

“I’ll get you an artifact, now fix the fuckin’ boat.”

“You promise?” You grin brightly. 

He stares at you. You are unyielding. 

The boat’s uncomfortably small and people are beginning to take notice. Worried murmurs fill the air behind him.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You shrug simply.

You kneel over, picking up the chip from the ground. You do nothing else for two minutes, instead turning away from him to look at the Statue of Liberty that was coming closer.

It takes him a while to realise that half his body isn’t hanging off his chair anymore. The ceiling is moving further and further away from the top of his head. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He wants to strangle you. 

Why did he listen to you when all of this would have been over the minute he kicked it off the ship. 

“You can drop it off at my lair on Monday and pick it up on Friday.” You gather your belongings, leaving him steaming behind you. “Nice talkin’ to ya, Sergeant.” 

You step over him, flashing him a quick smile before walking off the boat with the rest of the tourists as if nothing had just taken place. When he looks down, the stupid ring box is on his lap.

He sits there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the container.

The ferry conductor asks if he’s going to get off the boat. 

He simply shakes his head.

Next part

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 23 - Surrender [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4400

Summary: Secrets can’t stay hidden forever.

The possibility of you sitting with a killer who had sworn to destroy you was scary for sure, but thinking that the said killer could be much closer to you than you had thought was enough to make your blood freeze in your veins.

It was as if you were going through the same thing that had happened with your dad ages ago, but with a small difference;

Your dad had never tried to hurt you, but this time the killer was coming after you.

Spencer stood beside you as you exhaled the smoke of your cigarette into the air, your hands still shaky but you forced yourself to focus on the police and the FBI escorting people out of the building while he kept his gaze on you.

“You might be wrong though?” you managed to ask, looking up at him, “Right? Maybe it’s not—maybe it’s not someone as close to me?”

Spencer heaved a sigh, “We need more evidence, but you need to keep that in mind that it is possible. I mean— it makes more sense than it being just a stranger, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t agree that I’ve had the misfortune to be close with two serial killers throughout my life, no,” you murmured through frozen lips, “Maybe it’s me. Maybe I was doomed to survive one serial killer to be killed by another.”

“I will never let that happen.”

You took another drag of your cigarette, “I have a feeling the killer might end up not asking for your permission, professor,” you stated and turned your head when you heard the sound of heels coming closer. Mina ran a hand over her face, clearing her throat.

“I sent Kenz away from here,” Mina said and it didn’t escape your notice how she was deliberately avoiding giving any details, just in case. “We’ll regroup at mom’s place, you, me and mom.”

“Just us?”

Mina clicked her tongue, “All things considered,” she murmured, “So I’m not going to beat around the bush; we both agree that it’s not Kenzie right?”

You nodded, “Clearly,” you said and pulled your brows together, “Wait, we’re sure it’s not Kenzie but we still suspect each other?”

“I don’t know, do we?” Mina asked back and you shifted your weight, looking down at the cigarette in your hand.

“Mina, I don’t—”

“Listen, it’s not the place for this conversation,” she interrupted you, “Mom’s place, half an hour.”

“That might not be the best idea,” Spencer said, looking between you two and Mina scoffed.

“It’s not our first rodeo with a serial killer among us, Dr. Reid,” she said, “I already gave a list of my alibis to your colleagues, so did my mother. There’s nothing to keep us here.” She nodded at you, “Don’t be late, we have a lot to talk about.”

With that, she walked away from you two and grabbed her keys from the valet while you stubbed your cigarette.

“So did you check everyone’s alibis?”

“Yeah, at least the people close to you,” Spencer said, “They all look solid.”

You raised your brows, “But?”

Spencer clenched his jaw, “I need to go over all the files, all the recordings with your father—”

“I don’t think it’s my father who’s behind this. Not this time, and not at the cabin. He wouldn’t dare.”

He frowned, “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Well think about what happened the last time I-“ you snapped your fingers, “Right. You weren’t there.”

“What happened? Luke just said you walked away because your father got on your nerve.”

“That’s one way to put it,” you muttered and motioned at the valet to give him your ticket so that he could bring your car, “Listen, I gotta go. Mom is probably at home and Mina is going there and I can’t….I need to talk to them.”

“It might be dangerous.”

“Spencer, it’s my family we’re talking about,” you insisted, “I can’t— if I start suspecting them too, I have nothing left to hold on to.”

He opened his mouth to disagree but you saw Luke coming closer to both of you.

“Hey, Rossi says we need to get back to the office. Emily and Tara are already there,” he told Spencer and turned to you, “We need to stop meeting like this, trust fund baby.”

“Dude, you guys are the ones who show up and scream murder everywhere I go.”

Luke chuckled, holding up his hands and mocking surrender while valet pulled over in front of you.

“Here you go ma’am.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a small smile before you looked up at Spencer. “I’ll see you later I guess.”

“Call me when you get there, we’re also sending a car to your mother’s place and your place just to be sure.”

You nodded, heaving a sigh and Spencer squeezed your arm as if to assure you before pressing a kiss on top of your head.

“Be careful.”

“Hey I was trained by a serial killer, how many people can say that?” you tried to joke as you walked to your car, “I’ll be fine.”

You got into your car and valet closed it, then you started the car and drove off.

                                                 ***

The living room was completely silent in your mother’s house. In fact, the whole house was silent, the only noise was the constant ticking of the huge clock on the wall while all three of you sat still, waiting for someone else to talk. Your mother drummed her fingernails on the table, something she would reprimand you for doing if it were another time, Mina bit inside her cheek, her gaze fixed on the wall and you downed the whiskey in your glass, then filled it again.

“Okay,” Mina said and sat up straighter and looked between you, “I just want to say, if it was someone in this room this whole time, we can- I can fix this.”

“Jesus Christ, Mina!”

“You can’t possibly suspect-“

“We’ll say it was dad’s influence, we’ll call it trauma after-“

“Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“I’m just saying, if it is one of us, it’s dad’s fault.”

“It’s not one of us!” you insisted but then you turned your head when you heard the doorbell ring. The sound of heels came closer and Mina threw her head back as soon as Kenzie walked inside.

“Kenz, I told you to-“

“Yeah, spare me the bullshit, I came as soon as I made sure Lily was alright and safe,” she waved a hand in the air and you closed your eyes for a moment.

“Kenzie, you really shouldn’t be here.”

“Why? So that all of you can dramatically blame each other? I know how you guys get, there’s not an ounce of logic between the three of you.”

Your mom heaved a sigh and got the whiskey bottle from you, “What did Spencer say again?”

“That it was possible it was someone at our table. It’d make more sense than it being a stranger.”

“So either one of us, or Lincoln, or Nolan.”

Your mom gasped, “Nolan had nothing to do with that!”

“Just saying, it wouldn’t be the first time some man you loved didn’t turn out to be the man he pretends to be-“

“Mina, low blow,” you cleared your throat and your mother narrowed her eyes.

“I know it’s not him.”

“Then it has to be Lincoln.”

You let out a small laugh, “Dude, don’t you remember what he was like when we were children? He cried when he saw me scrape my knees and his mom had to take him away.”

“People change.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d know if one of my best friends were a serial killer, Mina.”

“He came late to the auction.”

“So did all of you!” you insisted, “You don’t see me blaming you- by that logic where were you?”

“Are you kidding me? My meeting took longer than I expected, go check my security camera footage. Where were you?”

“Mina!”

“I was literally talking to Spencer while it was happening!”

“Are you two seriously blaming each other?” Kenzie gawked at you and Mina shrugged her shoulders before turning to your mother.

“How about you mom?”

“What is this, an Agatha Christie novel?” your mother asked, exasperated, “Ask the driver, it took us more than an hour to get there because of the accident.”

“It could be anyone in that auction hall, yes, including someone in this room but they checked our alibis. Spencer said it was a possibility, not that it was certain,” you managed to say, “They still need more evidence and I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to start blaming the only people in my life that I actually trust.”

A silence fell upon you and Kenzie sat down beside you, then filled herself a drink as well.

“The moment we start blaming each other, we’re lost,” she said, looking Mina in the eye, “Your dad almost tore this family apart once, don’t let this copycat do the same. It’s not one of us and you know it.”

“No one is blaming you Kenz,” you rasped out and Mina ran a hand over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “Jesus, I’m— it’s just that… It fucks with my head.”

“You get used to it,” you sipped your drink and turned to your mother, “For what it’s worth, I really don’t think it’s Nolan either. I mean what are the chances of getting married to a serial killer twi—“ you stopped talking as soon as Kenzie kicked you under the table and Mina gasped, shooting you a look as you covered your mouth. Your mother stared at you, her jaw dropping and you cleared your throat, trying your hardest to come up with something.

“I mean—“ you stammered, “I’m drunk and I just saw Spencer being all hot and whispering in my ear after there was a murder so my feelings are all over the place, I don’t know what I—“

“Now that she fucked up first, I can say it.” Mina said, “Nolan will ask you to marry him.”

“I was un-fucking it!” You hissed and Mina scoffed.

“You haven’t un-fucked a thing in your goddamn life.”

“I can’t believe this is how I’m finding out about this,” your mother breathed out, still staring at you two and you let out a whine, burying your face into your hands.

“I’m sorry!” your voice came out muffled and Kenzie let out a giggle, patting your arm as you raised your head again, “I- well- my dad was a serial killer!”

“What is that, your out of jail card?” Mina asked, “The same guy was also my dad but you don’t see me giving out secrets and spoiling surprises.”

“When did he say that to you?” Your mother asked, sitting up straight, “Y/N, you’re telling me everything right now!”

“I saw my ex looking hot tonight and someone got murdered while I was flirting with him, I’m allowed to mess up once or twice!”

“That’s a strange way of describing your whole life.”

“Shut up Mina or I swear—“

“Y/N!”

“He asked for my blessing and I said yes,” you murmured, “So did Mina and Kenzie. But I think we all threatened him first, right?”

“Nope, you’re the creepy one in this group.”

“Yeah I think it was just you.”

“Fine! Okay, I threatened him first,” you admitted as your mother stared at you, “In my defense, I was also pretty drunk back then because of my break up with the love of my life, in case anyone at this table forgot—“

“I wish. Maybe I could try to forget it if you stopped talking about it for five fucking minutes though.”

“Babe!”

“And my serial killer father—“

“Having daddy issues isn’t an excuse to be a snitch, bitch.”

“Mina, stop insulting your sister for a moment,” your mother told her and turned to you, “What did he tell you?”

“That he has been in love with you for… I don’t know, centuries because he’s like a five hundred years old vampire.”

“He feeds on money though, not blood.” Mina pointed out, “I actually can see him as an evil lord somewhere, now that you mentioned.”

“Getting information from this family is a nightmare,” your mother heaved a sigh, “And?”

“And nothing. Make sure to get your nails done when he takes you on a dinner now that we all gave him our blessing but I’m so not planning your wedding, my client list is full.”

“Nobody buys that excuse Y/N,” Kenzie reminded helpfully and your mother shook her head.

“Oh but I can’t possibly—“ she heaved a sigh, “I can’t marry him yet.”

Instantly, all three of you turned to him with the same surprised expression on your faces.

“…Were you gonna hit it and quit it mom?”

Your mother pinched the bridge of her nose “Mina, what is wrong with you tonight?”

“I have no idea. Is this what being traumatized is?”

“Yeah welcome to the club, I’ve been here for a while,” you waved your hands in the air, “Mom, I thought you loved Nolan. Don’t you?”

“No, I’m completely in love with him!” your mother said quickly, “He’s the best man I’ve ever known or been with.”

“Meh, let’s not pretend the bar is—“ Mina started but stopped talking when Kenzie elbowed her, “Sorry. I’m just going to keep drinking over here to keep my mouth busy.”

“But?”

“Sweetie, I can’t get married when…” your mother gestured at you, “When you haven’t found a partner yet!”

You made a face, “Why did we teleport into Jane Austen times all of a sudden?”

“No, you know what people would say.”

“Since when does that stop you?” you asked her, “Come on, who the fuck cares what anyone thinks? They can all go to hell.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the thought but-“

“Mom,” you said, “I might just end up alone, okay? You can’t spend the rest of your life waiting for me to get married or find a partner or something just because of some stupid unwritten rule. Fuck those people, let them talk.”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to have an actual wedding either.”

“Who’s coming up with these rules?” Mina exclaimed, “Mom, do whatever you want. This family threw appropriate out of the window long ago.”

Kenzie nodded fervently, “People will always find something to criticize, you can’t let that get to you. If you love him, go for it.”

“But wait for him to propose first, I have a feeling it’ll be the biggest ring I’ve ever seen,” you clinked your glass with hers and wiggled your brows, “Can I please be the one to tell dad though? I want to record the look of devastation on his face. I’ll make it my wallpaper.”

                                                  ***

The next day, you tried your hardest to focus on work. Even if Spencer’s words kept echoing in your ears, you couldn’t help but think that he had to be wrong.

Maybe he was. Maybe it was someone else in the hall, other than your family or Nolan or Lincoln. It was impossible for you to suspect anyone in your family, and Nolan and Lincoln had had more than enough time to be alone with you and hurt you, but neither of them had given you any sign of being dangerous.

Besides, you were sure that after spending so much time with your father, you’d be able to tell if it was someone around you.

Or at least you hoped so.

You took a sip of your rosé and bit inside your cheek, staring at your dinner table in the middle of the living room which now looked like something pulled out of a horror movie. You heaved a sigh, holding your hand over the various types of knives, the memory flashing in your head.

“Alright Petal,” your father tugged you by the hand so that you could get closer to the coffee table full of knives, “Let’s see if you studied like I told you, hm?”

“I have!” you gave him a bright smile before you bit at the stick candy and he raised his brows.

“Honey, don’t bite at candy, you’ll ruin your teeth.”

“No I won’t,” you said stubbornly, still holding the candy tight, “I’ll brush my teeth afterwards.”

He heaved a sigh and grabbed a blade off the table, then held it up.

“What is this?”

“A trench knife,” you said, looking at the handle that looked more like brass knuckles your father had shown you before, “You can hold it over your fingers so it’s better for…for…”

“Close combat.”

You nodded, still chewing on the candy and your father put it back, then showed you another.

“This?”

“Push dagger!”

“How do we use push dagger?”

“When you hold it in your palm, the blade is between your fingers.”

“So that…?”

“So that the prey can’t see it until it’s too late.”

He nodded, “You really did pay attention, Petal,” he commented and you giggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet and turned the candy in your mouth as he held up another blade.

“This?”

“Butterfly knife!” you said and motioned at him, “I want that one.”

“Because it’s called a butterfly?”

“Daddy I love butterflies!”

He smiled, then grabbed another from the table, “Do you know what it is?”

“Another butterfly knife?”

“No honey, this is called a trainer, see?” he showed you, “I want you to practice with this first. It has no knife, so you won’t be cutting yourself until I say you can switch to an actual one.”

You clicked your tongue, twirling the butterfly knife between your fingers, the motion almost automatic. You had become so good at it when you were a child that you didn’t even need to think about how to flip the knife after all these years, your hands already remembered it.

“Trench knife, push dagger,” you counted slowly as the thunder lit up the dark sky outside, “Good for close combat, good for stealth….Stiletto, good for deeper wounds. Bowie is good for—“ you were cut off when you heard someone banging their fist on the door. You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and you flipped the butterfly knife in your hand, approaching the door but as soon as you looked through the peephole, your stomach made a happy flip.

“Spencer?” you muttered and opened the door, “What’re you—”

“Are you insane?” he cut you off, glaring daggers at you and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?” you asked as he walked past you into the apartment and you closed the door before following him. He ran a hand through his curls, clearly the rain outside had made his hair even messier and he turned around to say something, but then got distracted.

“Why are you holding a butterfly knife?” he asked and you flipped it again before throwing it on the table and he frowned at the sight on the table.

“What the hell is this?”

“Uh, butterfly knife, trench knife,” you pointed with your finger as you counted them, “That’s a stiletto knife, that’s a switch blade, right next to it is a push dagger and the one over there is called—“

“I know what they are, why am I looking at them?”

You arched a brow, “Take a guess.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?” you let out a bitter laugh, “I’m done taking it lying down, okay? Last night was the last straw, if that copycat wants to come after me, I say let them. The man who they’re looking up to was the same man who trained me for my whole childhood, I like these odds.”

“Yeah?” he scoffed, his eyes narrowed in anger, “Is that why you threatened one of the most dangerous serial killers of our time?”

You tilted your head, “My father?”

He threw his hands in the air, frustration getting the best of him,

“Yes, your father!”

“So you basically ran all the way here to yell at me because I threatened my father?” you asked as you walked past him, then grabbed your wine glass and leaned back to the table, “Don’t worry professor, it’s a family thing. We’re impulsive. He’ll be fine, unfortunately.”

He ran a hand over his face, “What were you thinking?”

“To be honest with you, I kind of wasn’t thinking,” you pointed out before you took a sip of your wine, “How is he these days, by the way?”

“I’m glad you find this entertaining,” he said through his teeth, “Because I can assure you, this is not funny.”

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny.”

He took a deep breath as if he was trying to control himself, “You think threatening a serial killer with murder is funny?”

“I mean have you seen the look on his face? I don’t know if the video got that but—“

“Why did you break up with me?”

Well, Spencer had a way of taking you by surprise, that was for sure. You lowered the glass and blinked a couple of times, trying to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Why did you break up with me if you were going to threaten a damn serial killer because he implied he might come after me?”

“I hope you know that normal exes don’t have these kind of conversations,” you tried to joke but he only raised his brows.

“Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you heaved a sigh “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” he said, his voice almost too low, “You just don’t want me to know what I’m talking about.”

“Listen, I know how it might look like but I can assure you I’d do it for any—“

“Garcia was with me while I was watching those tapes.”

Your eyes snapped up to his as your breath got caught in your throat. You swallowed thickly, painfully aware of how he was probably seeing all your tells but even that thought didn’t stop you from drumming your fingernails on the fragile glass you were holding, pursing your lips for a moment before you cleared your throat.

“What—um—what did she say?”

“You mean before or after she said you broke up with me to protect me even if I’m an FBI agent already working on this case?”

God damn it Garcia.

The thunder boomed outside again and you frantically tried to find the right words, but it felt impossible to do so. He took a step closer to you while you stared at him, completely frozen and you closed your eyes for a moment.

“Spencer…” you muttered as you opened your eyes again, “Whatever training they gave you, trust me, they didn’t train you for my father.”

“Is that why you said all that stuff back then?” he asked slowly, “When we broke up?”

“It doesn’t matter—“

“Yes it does.”

A sad smile pulled at your lips as you put your wine glass down, and shrugged your shoulders.

“I thought—um, I thought it I hurt you that badly, you’d never want to see me again,” you admitted, “So if you were away from me, you’d be safe. Away from my father, away from the copycat, away from all of this. Working on this case is not the same as being caught in this fucked up web, you know that.”

“You didn’t think you should’ve at least asked my opinion on this?”

“You would’ve said no.”

“Of course I would’ve said no!”

“Exactly!” you threw up your hands, “You might not care about your survival in this situation, but I do, okay? I love you too much to let you get hurt because of me—” as soon as your brain acknowledged what had just slipped from your lips, you stopped talking, your breathing getting faster while panic seemed to flood your system. He stared at you, a soft light appearing in his eyes and you shook your head at yourself.

“Fucking great,” you muttered, “Yeah, um you— I’m— it doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want to do with that information.”

You took a step to walk past him but he had already grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Before you could even ask him what he was doing, his lips found yours, letting that warmth shoot through your stomach into your whole system. The feeling was so sudden but so mind numbing that you thought Spencer was right before, this was definitely like a drug, an addiction. His fingers caressed over your neck while your body pressed against his like some sort of a magnet and a soft whine escaped from you as he pulled back slightly.

“Don’t run away,” he whispered against your lips “Not this time.”

You felt the tears rushing to your eyes. “Spencer-“

“I love you.”

“You shouldn’t,” you murmured before he stole another kiss from you.

“I love you,” he repeated, his hazel eyes locked in yours, “And I’m done pretending like I don’t.”

It was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea, you knew it would put him in danger, but none of that seemed to matter to you after hearing that he loved you. For some reason, you were convinced that you two would find a way, that everything would be alright as long as you loved each other, naïve as it was.

The happiness burst through you, wrapping you in a soft and warm haze as you reached back with one hand to sweep everything off the table, sending all the knives to the floor with a loud noise before you jumped to sit on the table. A small chuckle left his lips when you tugged at his jacket and he tilted his head.

“What, you don’t have a bed?” he taunted you and you grinned.

“The bed can wait,” you murmured as he dragged his fingertips up your bare legs to pull you closer to him, drawing a giggle from your lips before he kissed you again.

Chapter 24

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

CAN I JUST SAY THAT YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING????? Its so detailed with a great flow and filled with so much emotion I LOVE ITTTT!! You got me lying in bed tossing and turning with “in pursuit of knowledge” 🥰🥰 that’s my favourite one I really hope you continue it!

Can I request one of the upcoming chapter to explore more on how Zhongli and reader first meet and what are the other things they did that made him fall for them more and more each day? Zhongli doesn’t seem to be the kind that falls in love at first sight so I’m interested to see how the reader seems to have slowly crawled her way into his stone heart UGHHH ❤️❤️😩😩 It can be filled with fluff or with smut, up to you! Thank you so much ❤️

Thank you! You can keep on tossing and turning then with this! I also head canon that when it comes to love, Zhongli wouldn't fall in love at first sight but instead he'd be like a snail. The entire time I'm writing this I thought long and hard on how to proceed because I couldn't decide on a satisfactory way Zhongli would meet reader. I already knew that it would be a speed run of Enemies to Friends, and slow burn Friends to Lovers. So I wanted their first meeting to be seemingly unremarkable to Zhongli.

In Pursuit of Duty

Summary: The simplest of things can lead to the greatest moments of our life. Meeting you was Zhongli's greatest fortune.

There were a few mortals in Zhongli’s life, both as an Archon and on the few occasions he mingled with humans, that were able to capture his attention or even his praise. And in all of his life, mortal and divine, no one was able to capture his enmity in the way you did.

“Would it really matter what Rex Lapis thinks if we entered and fucked around the domain in Guyun stone forest?”

Zhongli blinked, aghast at your tone as Childe covered his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“What?” You asked the two of them as if you had not merely suggested tampering with the seals of Guyun Stone Forest.

“The entire place is home to the fallen gods” Zhongli reminded you “a graveyard for those who died in the Archon War”

“It’s been decades, they should be already on the reincarnation wheel at this point” You waved his worries off, sending Childe to another fit of laughter while Zhongli felt indignant “‘sides Rex Lapis is busy doing fuck knows what he probably wouldn’t even notice if one of the seals got messed with unless one of the dead Gods decide to fuck shit up”

Zhongli, who was very much Rex Lapis in disguise, very much noticed it and though he was the one who orchestrated this whole scenario, felt no less than pleased with the attitude you were having.

“The dead still deserve to be respected!” Zhongli insisted as he blocked your hand from reaching towards one of the seals.

“You stick in the mud! You make it sound like I’m defiling their graves or something!” You whined “Besides the Heavens must be willing if they had a stray seal plaster itself on my face!”

“It was a ruined seal. The divine powers had long since dwindled from it. Thus, the Heavens had no hand on it” Zhongli stubbornly insisted as he moved to block your path.

On the side, Childe was still laughing loudly.

“That’s it! Fight me you bastard!” You shouted as you took a few steps back and summoned the elements to form your weapon, a spear.

And really, it was almost funny in hindsight, how you would choose his weapon of all things. The one weapon he was best at among others but right now, in this moment, Zhongli had felt more than annoyed.

“Very well” His spear, dragon’s bane, at his side “I accept your challenge.”

There were a few opponents in his life that gave Zhongli a thrill of the battle. Ever fewer were able to make the gears in his head turn as quickly as it did when facing you, each strike of your spear was clearly aiming for his life, and yet the look in your eyes didn’t carry a single thought of murder.

It was frustrating. It was Confusing. It was, most of all, fascinating.

Fighting you brought him back to the days before the Archon Wars, where the Gods of Liyue were at a semblance of peace. It made him remember the joy of fighting someone your equal, it made his blood rush in a way that it had almost forgotten. And Zhongli was starting to see that beyond your heretical ways, behind your annoying mask of affability, was someone who can walk in the path of the divine.

‘No, you would walk in it for the sake of your knowledge’ Zhongli thought as he blocked your attack and moved his feet to kick you in your stomach.

“This ends here” Zhongli declared as he summoned a steele behind your back.

The sound of your back hitting it rang loudly in the air but the look on your face was something he would never forget in a long while.

You spat out blood, shakily standing up from your position, “You win this round! But I swear on Rex Lapis’ six pack abs I’ll find a way to replicate that fucking seal!”

And then you were gone in a spark of electro.

The peaceful sound of waves remained in the air that somehow hung heavy. Childe had stopped laughing and was looking confused as he mused, “That’s the first time in a long while I’ve seen them look like that.”

Zhongli paid no attention to his words and instead picked up the abandoned seal and returned it to its proper position.

“Interesting” Childe muttered, softly and slightly ominous to Zhongli’s ears.

What he found interesting was something Zhongli wisely decided to not entertain. He really hoped that today would be the last time he’d ever have to be in the presence of Childe’s...friend.

For his part, Childe had no regrets in introducing Zhongli to you, or rather having Zhongli experience the misfortune of knowing you. From the moment Childe had met you again, he knew that his life would be thrown out of whatever carefully calculated plan Pulcinella had made. And it was one he was happy with, if the rumors in Snezhnaya had him part of the chaos then you were chaos incarnate.

It was precisely the reason why Childe had brought Zhongli with him when meeting you in the Guyun Stone Forest.

“A friend of mine, an expert in the ways of the divine and assorted knowledge, would lend us their skills in challenging the...impossible, shall we say” Childe said on the way “Most of their thoughts are heretical, almost, but well no one has ever said it wasn’t effective in reaching the desired result.”

“Ah, a researcher from Sumeru then?” Zhongli had asked, the light in eyes glinting in interest.

“Of sorts” Childe answered because as much as you stayed in Sumeru, most of your knowledge had come from your own experiments and cases from clients seeking answers the divine could not give.

This was why you were almost heretical.

“I must warn you that for them the sacred can be profaned and the profane can be sacred” Childe added as they reached the shores of Guyun Stone Forest, and found you basking under the gentle rays of sunlight in front of the Domain.

Zhongli stared at you, the sight of you head looking up with your eyes closed as it felt the warmth of the sunlight. Geo crystalflies surrounding you as a light breeze had the ends of your hair fluttering in the wind.

“Who is that?” Zhongli asked.

“My friend, the infamous Xiézhihuā Mìngfù of Liyue” Childe answered.

In that exact moment, you slowly opened your eyes, lashes fluttering softly as you blinked. The wind blew and a rain of leaves fell on you, gentle and calm as you stared at them.

--

Like an ill-fated omen, Zhongli began to notice you on the streets of Liyue Harbor. Rumors and words of your deeds would reach his ears, on occasion some of your cases would be told in the tea houses.

“Miracle” a few bystanders would say.

“Heretical” the few devout traditionalists would mutter in hushed tones.

But all agreed that you were a genius. An innovator that brought changes like a storm. You gathered envy and admiration in your wake, foreign nobles and dignitaries seeking you out for consultations or to ask for your help. And yet, for all of your infamy and prestige, Zhongli often found you amidst the crowd of orphans or Liyue’s slum dwellers.

Sometimes, Childe was with you, other times it was Director Hu and her friends, the second young master of the Feiyun Guild and the exorcist. In one memorable moment, Yanfei. But more often than not you were by yourself, answering questions from children with a pleasant smile and mischievous glint in your eyes.

It was such a huge contrast from the one he first met that it made Zhongli pause and observe you from afar. Enough times that those around him would say, “No need for alarm, Mr. Zhongli. Xiézhihuā Mìngfù is honorable.”

It was those words that made him ponder. For all of your borderline heretical actions, miracle works that trespass on the Divine, the entirety of Liyue agreed that you were honorable.

It wasn’t until Childe had asked for his help did he cross paths with you again. Weeks of avoiding you to maintain peace were all for naught when he found himself in your presence once more. A jar of osmanthus wine on your hand and an ingratiating smile on your face, you offered it to him and said, “Osmanthus wine, I’ll give this to you so don’t be a stick in the mud!”

In his youth, he would have immediately brawled with you. But now, Zhongli settled for drinking a cup of tea with contempt as much as the act could convey. Your laughter, melodious, rang in the private room of Liuli Pavillion.

“Aiyo! What a tough crowd!” You said as you sat opposite him and placed the bottle in the center of the table, “Then shall we begin anew? My birth name is a secret, my courtesy name is a secret, my title is Xiézhihuā Mìngfù! Xié for Heretic, zhi for knowledge, and huā for flower!”

“What kind of introduction is that?” Childe teased as he began his battle with chopsticks.

“An unforgettable one!” You replied, sending a wink to Zhongli who merely pursed his lips.

“I am Zhongli, a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

You smiled and decided to leave the matter at that, somethings could not be forced. So you retreated and decided to just straightforwardly tell him your intentions.

“I’ve heard that Mr. Zhongli is knowledgeable in Liyue’s history.”

Zhongli could sense your sincerity, it placated him a bit, made the dismal first meeting a little bit better. So he tries because he is magnanimous and there was no reason to burn a bridge, “I am merely remembering what others have forgotten.”

He looked at you in the eyes, drawn to the way your eyes burn bright with curiosity. It reminded him of Guizhong so he shakes the thought away because the dead and the living must not be compared. But as the conversation grows long, the topics eventually shift from the job to everything else, Zhongli can’t help but notice your innate desire to help those who are unfortunate.

Somehow it made him understand why you were seen as honorable. It wasn’t until all of you were facing unknown danger did he realize what it truly meant when used on you.

The case you were asking was slightly connected with Childe’s job for you. The case was about the sudden deaths of several brides that were kidnapped and found dead at an abandoned temple. No one had reported it to the Qixing until one of the victims involved was a distant relative of a Qixing who was to be wedded to one of the Szehnayan Merchants.

Childe had taken the chance to offer aide, calling for your help as one of the known detectives of Fontaine. It had surprised Zhongli, and made him respect you but all of it was quickly thrown away when you had given him a cheeky wink and said, “I can even tell how big a man’s dick is.”

“Shameless” He had admonished and yet he was unaware of the small smile he wore on his face.

The investigation led the three of you to a small village in the mountain, with a local shrine that was dedicated to an old god that even Zhongli had never heard of. The three of you had pored over legends passed down by mouth, discussing and comparing with the records found in Liyue’s public library and scholars. Childe, through his seemingly endless funds, had paid for information on every victim so far that wasn’t in the packet given by the millelith. Zhongli, with his seemingly endless connections, had talked to everyone and anyone that had studied Liyue’s countless lores and legends. And you had talked with the family of the victims, investigating the crime scene and connecting everything that could lead to an answer.

That was how Zhongli found you, messed up clothes and tired eyes poring over documents in the middle of discarded papers that laid on the dark wood floor of your secluded residence in Minlin.

“Have you not slept?” Zhongli asked, frowning as he made his way towards you.

“Not yet” You answered as you got up and discarded the paper you were reading to go to your wide cork board that held all the relevant information you had, “I’m close to figuring out what sort of deity or demon we’re going to fight.”

“What about the reason?”

“Solved it ages ago” You answered carelessly, pointing at the left corner of the board.

Zhongli went over and flitted through the papers on that side until he found what he was looking for.

“A vengeful bride?”

“Mn” You replied as you removed a pin and replaced the paper with an old newspaper clipping “There was a record of a previous incident however the Ghost of that time was listed as defeated. The stories all claim that the ghost was of savage rank, and disappeared after letting go of their obsession.”

“Then it returned?” Zhongli turned to you, alarmed and visibly frowning.

“No.”

You sighed and rubbed your aching forehead, “This was a man made disaster that went out of hand, I’m sure that whoever started this is probably dead. Chances are the first death awakened a sealed something” You looked at him, eyes serious “I’m figuring out just how old this thing is and what exactly are we going to face.”

“...The older it is…”

“The harder it would be to defeat it. Liyue’s lands are drenched in blood. Old grudges mixed with new ones from the Archon Wars. With cultivation clans dying out and having a single yaksha around, the karmic cycle of Liyue is already out of balance” You revealed and Zhongli was amazed with your discovery.

“Is there anything Rex Lapis could do?”

“...Fixing the karmic cycle? None. Solving this? His dragon qi would only end up being corrupted or he’d be punished by the Heavenly Dao. Time has changed a lot of things, but the rule that the Gods may not interfere with the mortal realm remains true.”

Both of you remained silent, You stared blankly at your board while Zhongli watched you. The heavy air from your words made your heart heavy, and Zhongli could see it. The fear that lingered in your eyes, the firm determination to save lives.

It left a ripple in the calm waters of his heart. A small unnoticeable ripple.

“Is it worth it?” Zhongli asked “Is it worth betting on your life to save the common people?”

You smiled at him, almost pitying, “To an adeptus like you, the amount of times mortals would bet on their lives to save others must be few, but Zhongli...I am the sort to always think that the common people are worthy.”

At that moment, Guizhong’s words echoed in his mind.

“Let me help you.”

--

A red sedan trudges up the mountain path, intending to pass through the temple. Behind the bridal sedan was a short entourage carrying three chests of dowry. In front of the sedan, were two people beating drums to celebrate the auspicious day.

Zhongli, Baizhu, and the Fatui disguised as locals were on alert as it watched the ominous trees of the mountain road. You sat inside the sedan, meditating in lotus position. Chongyun and Xingqiu were waiting in the temple where the zombified bodies of the previous brides were found. You had advised Ajax to not participate in the inevitable battle. Ensuring the possibility that his abyssal powers would react badly with ancient powers. With all of the preparations, you hoped that the odds would be in your favor.

You sighed softly, eyes opening as you felt the air change. You readied your weapon as soon as you heard the sounds of fighting.

The door opens and you throw out a talisman. In a quick move you stepped out, geo shield forming around you as you began plucking the strings of the Guqin. You looked at your enemy and found your heart easing up.

What stood before you was neither an ancient deity or demon, but rather a ghost on the verge of breaking through the Malice Rank.

“Don’t fear! We can subdue this one!” You informed your party, as you played the Sound of Vanquish.

Vines subdued the ghost, wearing the red robes of a groom. The Fatui began surrounding the ghost. Nine stone pillars acted as the foundation of the seal, pulsing with geo energy.

You felt rather than saw Chongyun come close, allowing you to draw upon his yang energy to balance out the pure yin energy of the ghost. Xingqiu stood on standby ready to recite the incantation for parting in case the seal fails.

The final notes of the song lingered in the air as Zhongli walked towards you, eyes never leaving the ghost, “I thought it was a bride.”

“A minor mistake” You replied as you played Inquiry.

‘Who are you’

The ghost didn’t answer.

‘Who are you’ you repeated the question.

‘Kill me’ it answered.

Your hands stilled in the air. You sighed and looked up from the strings and found yourself staring straight at the eyes of the ghost. Stunned at the mixture of emotions in its eyes.

“...There is no need to surrender to despair, your soul can still be saved.”

The ghost gave a mocking smile, “So what? My Chang’er is gone. We can never meet again in this life or the next.”

Zhongli’s eyes widened at the implication, just as Chongyun let out a small gasp. You felt your heart turn heavy even so you soldiered on, there was a need to find out the cause of this tragedy.

“Then tell me, why did you kill those women?”

“They deserved it!” The ghost screamed in anger, “They killed her! They killed her like she was nothing! Chang’er was innocent! They knew she was innocent and still-”

“You could have reported to the Millelith!” Chongyun said.

Cold mocking laughter rang loudly in the air, in it you could hear the bitterness of defeat and anger.

“Would it have done anything when the person behind this is an official? You’re too naive, boy!”

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and decided to shield Chongyun from one of the dark sides of Liyue.

“Are you really forsaking salvation?”

“Yes.”

Zhongli watched as you walked towards the ghost and asked its name. He watched as the ghost whispered its name and you nodded before raising your hands, your index and middle finger pointing towards the sky, while the rest were closed.

Light gathered on your finger tips, the air charged with spiritual energy that was not of Celestial origin. It was an ancient divine power that Zhongli used to feel before he ascended to the peak of cultivation as a dragon.

With one downward stroke, the light slashed through the ghost. The light was so blinding that Zhongli had to shield his eyes as he watched the ghost turn into dust, its soul scattering to the wind. Your back stood straight, your hair gently fluttering.

Even though you were expressionless, Zhongli felt the heaviness of your heart. Despite that your eyes remained strong, unyielding as righteousness burned in your eyes. He watched as you strode in Ningguang’s jade chamber, as you reported your findings.

He accompanied you in going back to the village where it all began as you read the Liyue Qixing’s edict. He watched as you went beyond what Childe asked and went to the unmarked grave of Chang’er, offering incense on the blood stained stones of the temple.

He went with you as you sat on the highest mountain peak in Bishui, looking at the horizon with a blank look in your eyes. He didn’t speak and instead poured you a cup of osmanthus wine and silently waited.

“...Sometimes, I wonder if I can remain in the path of righteousness” You spoke, “I can never understand the hearts of humans, how could they easily ruin someone’s reputation, ruin someone’s life because of greed? I can’t understand why there was a need to go as far as scattering the soul?”

You cried without any tears, and Zhongli remained silent, unable to answer something he had always witnessed in his long life.

“Have you changed your answer?” He asked as he stared at his cup of wine.

“No” You replied and Zhongli could hear the self-mockery in your tone, “Even if one day I find myself in unbearable pain, I’ll never stop believing that the common people are worthy of saving.”

You looked at Zhongli, solemn in your bearing as the sun disappeared in the sky “Zhongli, no one has the right to decide on the outcome of human lives. Be it human or adepti.”

Zhongli thought back to the case, the sad story of two lovers who parted eternally because of jealousy and greed. The greediness of an official’s son for a woman who had no affection for him, the jealousy of the ladies over the popular young scholar. The selfish righteousness of the village folk that stoned an innocent woman to death over ruined reputation.

Zhongli thought of his contract. He wondered for a moment what you would say to him if knew that he dared to bet on the safety of Liyue and its people.

He closed his eyes and drank the wine that still tasted as he remembered.

“I pray that your heart remains in paradise.”

You toasted him and smiled softly. Zhongli vowed to never forget how beautiful you looked in that moment, with the slight smile gracing your lips as you drank the osmanthus wine.

The moon was beautiful that night.

--

Zhongli watched from afar as Osial rose. His thoughts echoing to the oath you swore that day in Guyun. A part of his heart felt sad and yet in awe of what you had accomplished.

He watched as the Millelith, Adepti and Fatui worked together to evacuate the civilians. He watched as humans and adepti fought together to bring down Osial once more. He felt proud and relieved at the result, glad at the knowledge that Liyue had no need of him anymore and yet a part of him felt trepidation.

The knowledge that the Age of Archons was drawing to a close. He thought of you, a beloved child of the Heavens, who could boldly declare that the Gods can be wrong. He thought of the words you spoke that night.

He thought of the days he spent with you, the rare times he went along with your tricks and harmless schemes. The easy way the two of you became friends. You were the first person he had easily became friends with, he mused at how quickly his dislike of you melted into fondness.

The way his heart had pinched when you said he wasn’t fun. The elation from being one of the few people you found interesting. He thought all of this as he handed his gnosis, as he kept his reason a secret. He thought of this as he looked around Liyue that had no need of him anymore, he thought of you as his feet automatically walked to where you were.

He stood away from you, watching as you cared for the wounded and then silently left. He spent the aftermath ruminating on his decision, on his actions while silently watching your actions with Childe during the last week of his stay in Liyue.

He waited for you to come to him, and ask him the question he could not answer. He steeled his heart and yet when you came to him, you didn’t ask and instead began talking about your recent adventures, asking him of his days and Zhongli didn’t know what to feel.

He knew that you knew nothing then. That you remained unaware of the truth but he let himself believe that you didn’t mind. So he spent his days with you, silently caring for you, protecting you in his own way.

He let himself bask in your vibrant presence, allowed himself to savor the feeling of watching you walk the path of righteousness. He unknowingly and willingly let you walk inside his heart, step by step, with each moment you spent helping others.

The days spent by your side, knowing the parts of yourself that no one else knew was the closest he felt in being mortal. It was so easy to forget that you remained ignorant when he spent his time worrying about your ability to be where chaos was, when his heart was easily influenced by you.

But now, in the privacy of the Dwelling in the Clouds, Zhongli watched as you grew disappointed. Your soft laughter filled with heartbreak and weariness broke his heart for reasons he couldn’t understand.

He regretted not telling you the truth when he had the chance.

He hated how he had no right to wipe away your tears even though he had spent countless nights and days warming your bed.

“Zhongli, I hate how I can understand why you did it” Your voice was so soft “Really, as an Archon you are undeniably good, you are peerless in that regard.”

He closed his eyes and readied himself for your next words.

“But I can’t call you a good person. Human lives aren’t something you should bet on so easily, no matter how careful you are” Your disappointment, your grief, and your weariness were all visible in your tone and body language.

He remained where he stood, watching as you descended. Each step breaking his heart as he slowly understood what you meant to him. He cried silently as you disappeared below the clouds and slowly sank on the ground.

For the first time in his life, Zhongli didn’t know what to do. There was no one he could turn to. He dreaded going back to a cold empty house devoid of you. He feared going back to the days that were dull, to a time where you did not exist in his life.

Where the sound of your voice was not commonplace, or the comforting scent of your magic that lingered in the space you occupied.

Zhongli laughed, loud and unrestrained, mocking himself for his stupidity. He hated how he didn’t realize it sooner, if he did then perhaps things would not turn out this way. He cried with all of his broken heart as he remembered the loneliness in your eyes.

He drank his sorrows away and as daylight broke through the clouds, he stumbled his way home. To the place that was devoid of you who he loved.

He fell on his bed that still smelled like you and silently cried himself to sleep.

He was already missing you dearly.

--

You stared at Zhongli, eyes distant as he stood in front of your door. A distant part of you wondered if things could be fixed, if the two of you could move forward from this pain.

But the rest of you were waiting for further disappointment, you knew the bone-deep pride of Gods. You understood that there was a bigger chance that Zhongli would cease contact with you, no one can easily put down years of habit and thought as a god so easily.

And yet as Zhongli stood beneath you, looking up to you. You couldn’t help but hope.

“...I can’t apologize for what I did” Zhongli began, “I don’t regret doing it the way I planned but I regret that I didn’t think of another way to test my people.”

You remained silent.

“I asked you once if the common people are worthy, the truth is I don’t know whether I find them worthy or not...but with you…” Zhongli trailed off, he felt that his next words were heavy.

He was afraid of laying his heart bare to you. The deepest parts of him that he didn’t fully understand, “I know that your life alone is worthy. I am a being born from rock, gaining humanity through cultivation. My heart is made of stone, softened by the dust. I don’t know if I would ever understand what being human means and everything it entails…”

You stared at him, unmoving, silently and patiently hearing him out.

“But I know that the only way I can keep on being with you is by changing this stone heart. So please, let me walk by your side, protecting you and your belief.”

Zhongli bent his waist, solemnly asking for your forgiveness and acceptance. He heard your footsteps coming closer and swore to himself to accept whatever the outcome would be.

“Stand straight.”

He stood and then he found himself in your embrace, your familiar scent filled his nose and Zhongli gently and firmly hugged you back. He held you fearing that all of it was an illusion.

“Let me learn how to be good while staying by your side” He whispered.

“I was afraid” You replied “of how easily you can decide on the outcome of your people’s life and death.”

You hugged him tighter, “I know that you still have secrets that you can’t tell. That even as you live as a mortal, the consequences of your actions as an Archon is something you would live with for the rest of your life. So I won’t judge you for that but Zhongli, I can’t be with someone who can easily bet on other’s life.”

“I understand.”

He thought of your words in Qingyun Peak, your confession that night in Minlin. He thought of the day he met you. He thought of the words he said in that temple ruin.

Zhongli understood what it meant to walk by your side, to take the same path as you did. He knew that from this moment onwards he would never be able to untangle himself from you.There was no room for anything else in his heart that was filled with you. It would always remain with you even if one day his entire being ends up in the abyss.

‘As long as your heart remains in paradise, I don’t mind letting myself fall into the abyss.

[dear-mrs-otome]

As someone who can’t read Japanese, could you please spoil Faust’s route? I’m really curious!

I can, sorry this took me awhile to get all down!

I’ll give you a summary of Faust’s route below the cut, so for those zooming past BE WARNED. SPOILERS FOLLOW.

SPOILERS AHOY!

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO HAVE THE WHOLE ROUTE SPOILED IN DETAIL???

I MEAN IT - A GIANT WALL OF TEXT EXISTS BEHIND THIS CUT, ALL SPOILERS…

Faust’s route begins as all of the ‘Act 2’ routes do - just as MC is attempting to return home after her month vacation in the past, the door to the Louvre appears to malfunction and she’s forced to remain in the 19th century until Comte can figure out what is going on.

Life carries on much as usual for her, as she tries to keep her spirits up, when one day in town she stumbles across a church on the edges, presided over by a kindly priest (Faust) who seems impressed by her generosity towards a poor woman he’s given medicine to whose son is suffering from a mysterious epidemic that’s begun circulating the city. One night she attends a party with Comte when a critter of some sort steals her hair ornament. Chasing after it, she winds up in a graveyard, where to her horror she sees a figure digging up a fresh grave. She tries to run, is caught by said figure (Faust), and bitten until she faints. (First CG)

She wakes up in the church from earlier and the kind priest who claims he was merely a Good Samaritan seems willing to help her get home. Soon though it comes to light that she is the woman staying with Comte, and Faust drops his ‘nice’ mask and reveals himself as a vampire - biting her once more to observe the effects and proclaiming he will abduct her to be his new guinea pig, curious about her as a person both from the future and who has been living with vampires.

Waking up in Vlad’s castle now, she meets the Terrible Trio and struggles to deal with her situation now - Faust feeds on her for the purposes of observation again, and she goes on a hunger strike briefly, defiant and unwilling to accept being captive. Only when Faust threatens the other residents of the mansion does she reluctantly settle down, and they butt heads over their wildly different philosophies on life - Faust’s mission to grant humans eternal life, her proclaiming God gives us only that which we can handle, and Faust’s disagreement.

To prove his point he begins bringing her to the church with him disguised as a nun, where she witnesses firsthand the cruelties of fate in ways her 21st century self had never encountered before - children orphaned senselessly, people coming for confession bearing the crushing weight of guilt over their own poverty and misfortune. She begins to realize how she may have been wrong, but she and Faust continue to disagree over their different viewpoints. MC still believes that hope is real and necessary, whereas Faust is a committed cynic.

She slowly comes to lose her fear of the other residents of the castle as well, as they are nothing but kind and welcoming to her, though she still is unsure of what to make of everything and remains defiant.

The arguments between her and Faust come to a head when the son of the woman MC met that very first day outside the church comes around, seeking Faust’s blessing to send him on to the next life and refusing the medicine and help offered him. Faust reacts harshly to the man’s willingness to quietly acquiesce to his fate, to MC’s horror, and when she asks him if he has nothing of hope left Faust assures her it’s long gone. When she spots Napoleon and Sebastian later, she dithers for a bit but eventually tries to call out to them, only to have Faust intercept. Still unsettled from their argument earlier, he reiterates to her that she belongs to him and bites her on the church altar, as if to prove that bad things happen to good people no matter what.

Things are strained between them after that, not helped by MC’s increasing suspicions that the strange rumors of ‘resurrections’ going on around the city in the wake of the disease are somehow Faust’s work - an accusation that clearly wounds Faust upon hearing. She meets a young university student, Alex, who desperately wants to be Faust’s assistant and is studying the epidemic. Days pass as they continue working at the church and the orphanage, until one day the disease strikes even there - and finding Faust’s medication is running out, over his protests and concerns MC volunteers to help him make more, the two of them working day and night together to develop and manufacture enough to save the children.

They’re successful, save for one girl Lina who is still very sick that they bring back to the castle to finish nursing to health. They succeed, but afterwards MC falls ill with the same sickness and collapses...only marginally coherent of a desperate Faust doing all he can to save her life. (2nd CG)

She has time and evidence to rethink some of her assumptions about Faust, realizing that despite his best efforts to crush whatever heart and kindness he has it remains. There’s more to him than just icy logic. And when she asks him about his past he finally tells her some of it - that he was abandoned as a baby, raised in an orphanage by a kindly nun, and that when she fell ill he sold himself into slavery to provide her with money for medicine. It made no difference in the long run though, the woman still died...and Faust remains the cynic when they discuss hope and happiness and how MC still clings to these things.

Rumors abound about Faust’s miraculous work stopping the epidemic at the orphanage, as things return mostly to ‘normal’ for them both, working at the church and such. They’re each grappling with changing feelings for each other, Faust suffering his first bout of bloodlust, when one morning Faust collapses in agony bleeding from his mouth horrifically, falling unconscious for days.

Everyone at the castle is fretting, Faust growing weaker and weaker, as Vlad explains his theory that Faust has altered the timeline too much by stopping the plague at the orphanage and the universe is attempting to set things to right again by erasing him from existence. He claims the same thing has happened to him before when he tries to change world events too drastically - the difference being that as a pureblood he can’t die. Faust, however, can. 

He proposes traveling back in time and attempting to nudge humans here and there, make tiny alterations to the timeline to achieve the same goal of saving the children without the backlash falling on Faust, and MC insists on going along - realizing now that she’s faced with his death, she can’t bear the thought of losing him.

Going through the door in the castle with Vlad, she ends up first back at the mansion shortly after her own disappearance (where she assures Comte she’s doing well, thereby explaining why the mansion wasn’t losing their minds this entire time) and recruiting Comte’s help fiddling with the timeline. Upon the next passage she’s ripped from Vlad and dumped far in the past - where she witnesses firsthand little Johann’s heart and faith breaking upon the death of his beloved mother-figure nun, and then the natural disaster that crushed a town he frequented as a young man. This was the moment that solidified for Faust his determination to fight against God and Fate with all he had, and kicked off his obsession with discovering eternal life. (3rd CG)

After one more timey-wimey meeting with the Past!Faust at the point when they were nursing little Lina, where she offers him some much-needed words of encouragement, MC finally finds herself in the recent-enough past to travel around Paris with Vlad and encourage people to be more aware of the spreading plague. She even urges Alex to be more wary, prompting him to start developing his own medication from notes he’d taken from Faust.

Back in the ‘proper’ time, their efforts seem to perhaps have paid off...they return to find Faust gone, and after searching frantically around the city they find the orphanage has been set aflame on the strength of rumors that the plague spread from there. (As if the universe has manufactured some new tragedy instead for it, she realizes) Faust had gone into the blaze to save the last child, but comes out horrifically burnt and near death.

They take him to the church, where things appear dire...but Faust admits to finally seeing hope and accepting this outcome, just glad that something good has come of it all. MC refuses to accept his death though, and after Faust nearly dies again she cuts herself and he eventually revives. After he recovers, Faust corners her into confessing her feelings for him and admitting his own in return, before they finally consummate their love.

MC returns to the mansion as she had promised Past!Comte she would, happy to see all her friends again. A few days pass before Faust and Charles come to collect her, setting off an amusing set of interactions between the Mansion Boys and the Dastardly Duo, but it culminates in a scene where Faust thanks Comte humbly for his assistance with the timelines and for his consideration of MC. The couple then has a late-night conversation at the church where they’re both working again about the future of their relationship.

In Faust’s dramatic end, he asks MC to accompany him as he returns back to the place of that town that was destroyed, Faust making peace with his feelings surrounding the situation and reiterating his love for MC and how she’s helped him to see hope - before he asks her to help him with a different sort of ‘eternal life’, AKA having babies with him.

In Faust’s romantic end, he explains a bit about what motivates him to take on the role of a priest, and then he takes MC back to the castle where he intends to make love to her - saying that he can’t ever lose her but can’t stomach the thought of anyone other than himself ever biting her so he will have to work all that much harder to achieve his dream of eternal life so that they can continue to thumb their noses at God and Fate for all time together.

------

Even long as this is I’m clearly glossing over things - it’s a very busy route! And it’s complicated by the time travel stuff, which thankfully doesn’t get TOO complicated. If anyone’s interested in hearing my thoughts on Faust himself I’m happy to share, just let me know...I think he’s a fascinating complex character that definitely won’t be for everyone, but I am happy he exists in the IkeVamp cast and glad for this route.

[becomingbts]

Find a Way (15)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Type: angst-fluff-supernatural-series

Warning(s): deals with suicide and death. If you’re not comfortable with that subject, I suggest you don’t read it. Supernatural au.

3.2k

Summary: “If you accept, you’ll go back in time each time you’ll fail.” “I don’t care, I’ll save her no matter what.”

In 2011, he left everything behind so that he could follow his dreams. Yet, he also left his bestfriend, the one who supported him to go to the auditions, the one who cheered on him, the one who brought him banana milk when he felt down, but also the one who killed herself a day before he finally came back home.

Notes: Hello everyone! It’s been a while since I updated this series, I’m so sorry!! I keep on trying to finalize proofreading and then I get stuck and forget for a while, but I hope you’ll like this new chapter! I plan on trying to make more consistent update as we’re nearing the end of the story! I hope you’ll enjoy it!! Take well care everyone, love you lots!

Admin Dolly

Chapter 14 - here - Chapter 16

Fourth Timeline

"She what?" Jungkook froze, unable to comprehend her words.

"My sister. She died in an airplane crash. She was supposed to come back today from her school trip. I... I was supposed to t-take her home tonight," Jungkook's eyes widened as it finally made sense; it suddenly clicked. The postcard from France, (Y/N)'s sudden departure from work, the fact that no one knew where she had gone... It was all because her sudden departure for Seoul had never been planed this early. She was supposed to leave after work, only during the afternoon to fetch her sister.

Jungkook put his confusion aside even if it finally started making sense; he had to support her, it was more important than him trying to put the puzzle's piece together. 

"A-are you alright?" He tentatively asked even if he already knew the answer to the question.

"How am I supposed to be? The only person that stuck to me my whole life just left. How am I supposed to be alright? I swore to protect her with everything that I had-"

"Hey, hey, hey (Y/N) it's not your faul-" she cut him abruptly.

"I could have prevented it from happening!! I should have told her no from the very beginning when she asked me if she could go on that trip, I should have said no! I could have done somet-"

"(Y/N), it's not your fault, listen to me," she went quiet after his sudden yell, startled. His own eyes had also widened, bewildered by the volume of his own voice, yet he knew that he had to cut her rambling. Self-blaming would not help anyone, her sister would sadly remain deceased. How could she blame herself for agreeing to a trip? Of course, she would agree. Jungkook knew better than anyone else that (Y/N) always had to skip school trips because she never got the means for it. It was a given that she would say yes to her sister. "It's not your fault, you wanted her to be happy and not to miss trips like you did when we were younger right?" She looked away briefly and Jungkook got the confirmation he needed. Even if they didn't speak for years, he just knew her and he could tell that she probably used all her savings for her sister to go. (Y/N) had never had the possibility to go on school trips when both of them were younger. When her parents had died, she received monetary help but never got enough to go on trips with the whole class. The provided financial help was supposed to support her in her studies and for her future. School trips were usually deemed as comfort and not as a  need. Hence, she had always been left behind while Jungkook had made it his mission to take a lot of pictures for her and to bring her back a present from each trip they made. It always made her smile and Jungkook could still remember the way she cried the first time he brought her back a little present. So it only made sense for her to do everything for her sister to enjoy school trips the way she had dreamed to. "You didn't want her to miss on anything like you had to, right? You only wanted her happiness, how could it be your fault when you only wanted to make her happy?" Jungkook took a step in her direction and for once, she didn't move away. However, her teary eyes refused to meet his and she snorted quietly at his words.

"And yet, it only brought misfortune. Her last moments were in a hospital when she should have had a much longer life. Yet, her lifeless body was lying there, leaving me all alone." She smiled bitterly, tears rolling on her cheeks as she finally let her despair overwhelm her. Wincing at the sight of her tears, Jungkook tried to push his own heartbreak aside to comfort her as he closed the distance between them and draped his arms over her small frame, engulfing her in his warm embrace, trying to console her as much as he could. He didn't know if he could help considering their broken relationship, but if he could, at least this one time, be a shoulder for her to cry, then so be it.

"I'm sorry it happened to the both of you, I'm sorry for your loss (Y/N)." He let his hand wander through her hair, bringing her head closer to him as he tried to hide his own tears. "I'm so, so, sorry."

"I was so happy that t-today would be the l-last day without h-her," she nuzzled her nose against the crook of his neck, seeking warmth and comfort even if nothing but the cold wind was surrounding them. Jungkook felt like her warmth was so far away, her own presence seemed to hold no warmth. Nothing was right, nothing between them was alright, she wanted to hate him for leaving, to hit him for destroying what they had, but if for five minutes she could finally have someone, stay close to him, she would pretend. Pretend that they were fine, that he still was her home.

"W-why did you have to leave?" She whispered as reality crashed down on her. Now she was alone and maybe they would never be fine again. Maybe she would never be alright again.

"I'm sorry (Y/N) if I could take it all back, I would."  He mumbled, fully knowing that he couldn't, but he still hoped that he could make it right this time.

"She had promised me that s-she'd never leave me alone as you did." She hiccuped and Jungkook's heart broke at her quiet confession. Her voice was so quiet that he had to focus to properly hear her words as if worried that he would disappear if someone were to hear her.

"And she would have never left if she could have helped it. (Y/N), you were her dearest person. When we were younger, she threatened to kick me out of the house if I ever made you cry (Y/N)," it hurt, and her heart truly had other things to think about but she still smiled a bit hearing his words.

"She told me yeah," Jungkook whipped his own tears quietly before (Y/N) could notice them, "once you left, she didn't even try to keep her hatred for you silent." He sighed with a small smile, imagining well that her younger sister probably didn't try to keep her words sweet, he wondered what she told (Y/N) but he shook his curiosity away.

"Let's leave that bridge, yeah? We should get you somewhere warm, you're frozen." He was rubbing his arms against hers, noting again how cold she was. Hoping that it was only because of the cold, Jungkook let his eyes meet hers and he could see the distance she tried to keep between them.

"I-I don't really want to stay with you, to be honest." She pushed him gently, avoiding eye contact again. She didn't want to sound miserable and neither did she want to sound mean, but the only thought of staying near him suddenly made her shiver. It was hard to suddenly have someone back in her life when she didn't have him for years. She had believed that she would never have him back, and now that she lost half of her soul, she didn't know how to welcome him again. Did she even want to? She wasn't sure, all she knew was that she didn't want for him to be around today. Her head was hurting; she wanted to go to sleep.

"I can understand that," Jungkook's smile slowly vanished as his concern grew. He could understand that she didn't want to spend time with him, yet he still hoped that he would be able to look after her a little longer. However, it didn't seem to be in her plans for now. Again, he totally could understand that as much as it stung, but he still wished that he had more time to watch over her.

"Would you like me to find you a hotel room for tonight? I don't think that it would be wise for you to drive in your emotional state." He asked, already bothered by the idea of her driving. It couldn't be safe for her to drive now. He wouldn't force her to stay with him, but he could always pay for a hotel room for her. He would never mind for her.

"I'm okay... I'll be okay. I... I'll have to. Thank you for... I don't really know, thank you though." She returned her glance as he took her hand into his, rubbing his thumb against her palm, soothingly trying to comfort her. He didn't know how to provide support. She had changed so much and so did their relationship. He didn't know what was okay and what wasn't anymore. Jungkook guessed that he only had himself to blame for that, yet he wished he knew her more so that he could encourage her better. Everything was different from the time she lost her parents and Jungkook felt incompetent to actually help her properly. But he would try his best. He didn't come so far only to give up now.

"I know I haven't been here for the last year's, I've been the shittiest friend that you probably ever had if we don't count Ana-"

"Of course you weren't worse than her, find someone from your size-" she almost laughed a bit as he said the name of 'Ana'. She had been a friend of (Y/N) for some months before she realized that she was trying to basically initiate her to drugs. She had overlooked a lot of red flags for that girl even if she realized rather quickly that a lot was wrong between them. Her sister and Jungkook had greatly encouraged her to cut ties quickly; (Y/N) smiled at the thought. Maybe Jungkook would help remind her of all the happy times she got with her sister before she lost her. She wouldn't let herself depend on him again, but if he could alleviate her pain, even just a little, who was she to take it away from herself?

"Of course I wasn't, thank you for acknowledging that; if you ever tell me that I was worse than her, I would start questioning my whole existence." He smiled back at her, keeping her hands warm as he rubbed them in his.

"You're not that far from her you know?" He almost laughed at her attempt of teasing. Nothing was alright, but maybe if life started being kinder with her, she could start healing. Jungkook would never have the pretentiousness of thinking that he would be her remedy; he had done too much damage already. However, maybe he could be a painkiller. And if he had the opportunity to help and ease her pain, he would do anything for her.

"I'm offended, but I'll act as if I didn't hear that," he smiled warmly at her, "as I was saying, I'm probably the last person that you'd like to contact, but please, come to me if you ever need to. I know I've been shitty. I have gone against everything I always said I'd never become, but I'll try to make up for everything, I maybe won't ever be able to fill up the gap I created between us, but I'll try to be the friend that I've never been, and even if you don't want me to, it's okay, I can bear with us being only acquaintance, I just want you to be happy. I know it's going to be hard, you're probably living your worst nightmare, but please. You're not alone. I can be here if you want me to... If you allow me to. I'm a phone call away, I swear. No more empty promise, I'll make them all worth it. If you don't trust me, I can understand but p-please, just.." he was at a loss of words. He had so much to say and he felt like he wasn't conveying any of it. Jungkook felt like he would never find the good words and he hated it. His promises felt empty even to him, but he meant all of them! He had to get it right, he had to find the words. If he didn't, when would he ever make it right again? However, before he could continue, (Y/N) interrupted him, much to Jungkook's surprise.

"I hope you know that your words will have weight, right?" She asked, unsure of what to say after his speech.

"I know. And I'll bear it this time. Here take this, it's my number, feel free to take it or throw it. Just... Yeah, do whatever you want, the choice is yours, but my words are not empty this time. I mean them. I'm here for you whatever happens." She weirdly still had her hand in his as he gave her the piece of paper he had so carefully prepared earlier this day.

"Did you prepare this in advance?" Her question panicked him a bit, yet she didn't leave room for his answer, "thank you for saying this." She was obviously shaken and he hated himself for not being able to help more. "I should get my car." She finally broke the contact, leaving his arms with a sad smile, and he hoped that it didn't mean that it would be the end. It couldn't, he needed for her to be strong and to go on even if it would be hard.

"Let's meet someday, yeah?" Jungkook hesitated but he asked anyway, hopeful.

"Maybe, yeah." She nodded one last time before leaving, walking away under his warm eyes while he truly hoped that she would be alright. He watched her until she disappeared at the next corner and he finally let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding.

He had broken the loop. (Y/N) was alive, she made it.

Even though her healing process would probably be long and painful, she would at least live, and it was all that mattered. She had his number, the choice would be hers to text him or not. Jungkook prayed for her to take it, he hoped that she wouldn't throw it but he couldn't force her to call him either. He glanced at his phone as he felt it vibrating inside his pocket and he wondered which one of his brothers tried to contact him. However, as he checked his notifications, he already had a notification from (Y/N). Jungkook had already saved her number as he remembered it from the previous timeline, so as he saw her name on his tiny screen, he almost giggled aloud in the middle of the street.

The message wasn't long, nor was it saying that she wanted to see him again. No, instead, she had sent a brief "Hi, it's (Y/N)" but it was enough for him to feel his heartbeat accelerate like crazy, pounding against his chest as he rubbed one hand over his heart in a poor attempt to soothe it down. She had taken on his offer. (Y/N) had contacted him, and even though it didn't mean that they would meet soon or that it was going to be easy to be forgiven or for her to ever trust him again, he would perhaps have a chance and it made him giddy. He couldn't help the smile that grew on his lips. Relief flowed within himself. 

She would make it, he would make sure of it. He had to be there for her from now on. He smiled at the possibilities that he could finally think of without feeling his stomach twist uneasily; he could maybe introduce her to his members, maybe take her somewhere nice for a simple walk at night and other things that he dearly missed doing with her. They could go to restaurants, go shopping, even making tourists things. Jungkook didn't care, he'd break every single rule made by bighit if it included her happiness at the end.

So much was now possible and he couldn't keep at bay the excitement that overtook him. He would treasure her the way she deserved. He would man up and not ruin his promises again.

He had to protect her the best way he could. His eyes shut tightly as he remembered what she told him, the final missing piece of the puzzle. Her sister died, it was so strange to imagine it. She died so young, it was unfair. How could sure a pure soul be taken away so easily? Jungkook had tried to push his own shock away the fastest he could because he had known that she would need someone to lean on, not someone who would break after the news, so he had tried to shake it off as long as he was in front of her, yet the reality was now taking a toll on him. (S/N) died, leaving a broken older sister behind; a sister that would have given her life to trade with her if she had been able to.

Jungkook sighed. The news shocked him too, maybe he had never been close to her, but he saw that girl grow up too. He knew her even though she wasn't keen on him, he still knew her pretty well, and it hurt to know that he would never see or speak with her ever again. He had expected to meet her, to have to explain, to face an insurmountable wall that would be the biggest hardship between him and (Y/N), however, she would actually never be there anymore and the realization almost brought him to tears. He wasn't close to her, but she had still been a constant of his childhood. Jungkook felt like something had been stripped away from him despite him expecting to be less affected. Sometimes, death left an unspeakable void, even when one didn't expect it.

Jungkook could only imagine how (Y/N) felt. She had been her entire world, they used to be a duo, an unbreakable one. Yet, fate visibly had other plans and Jungkook wondered why was life so terrible with (Y/N). He sighed again, rubbing his temples a bit, everything was slightly too overwhelming for him. He tried to relax his mind thinking of (Y/N), trying to remember her small smile. She would be okay and it wasn't a mere detail. He finally broke the loop. He did the first step. 

Or so he thought as he suddenly and roughly woke up, sweating and panting.

Why the hell did he get back to his starting point?

Frozen into place, Jungkook looked around and immediately recognized his room. He suddenly jolted awake, mindlessly looking for his phone to check the date. As he found it, Jungkook got blinded by the screen but his eyes widened as he read the date on his screen. He was back to square one.

29th April.

The day of (Y/N)'s death.

[emonaculate]

Kisses n Kick Flips

❥ AU: Highschool!AU

❥ Genre: Fluff/Comedy

❥ Rating: 16+ (Well anyone can read because there's no explicit content, I'm just saying 16 because Eren is gonna be 18)

❥ Pairing: Skater!Eren Yeager x Black!Reader

❥ Word Count: 2.4K

❥ Warnings Include: Puppy Love, Romance, Profanity, and Injuries

❥ Author Note: I wrote this shit because I'm depressed and in desperate need of tooth-rotting romance. Attack on Titan is somehow the best and worst thing that has happened to me in a long fucking time. Not to mention @eremiie and @erotisc gave me some inspiration to work with, so thank you guys! Anyways I hope this helps everyone who is sad over the newest chapter

"Armin you don't understand, she's the smartest person in this whole fucking school; there's no way I'm gonna catch her attention." Eren groaned slamming his head into their lunch table.

"I take personal offense to that; when I'm valedictorian..." Armin frowned not reacting to Eren's physical actions, meaning he was used to seeing it.

"Sorry. But you know what I mean; she's smart and I'm just..."

"A hot-headed dumbass?" Jean quipped, now interested in the conversation at hand.

"Haha. Fuck you, horse face." Eren snapped flipping his friend off.

"I'm just saying if you wanna catch Y/n's attention; you need to completely not be...." Jean looked Eren up and down grimacing as he gestured to his entire body. "Yourself."

"That's not that bad of an idea, Jeanboy." Connie butted in, leaning on the ash-brown boy's shoulder

Before Eren could retaliate, the lunch bell rang meaning it was time for his favorite class of the day, Physics. Without wasting any time, Eren grabbed his bookbag and sprinted out of the cafeteria leaving his friends behind. The excitement began to build through his body as he raced down the halls tightly clutching onto his bag, trying to beat the bell and the other kids walking around.

He made his way into the class extremely early and sat down eagerly, finally for the first time, he'd be able to sit right beside her. A happy smile spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair excitedly.

Damn it all, life was a never-ending cycle of depression and disappointment. All Eren ever knew was pain. He knew was being a tad bit dramatic but how come nothing ever went his way? All that running and dashing was for nothing, especially since Y/n showed up to class later than usual. The only good thing about the entire ordeal was, Y/n sat near the teacher's desk, meaning he could stare at her for as long as he wanted without it looking creepy.

"Yeager, what's the answer?" His teacher snapped, irritated that he was being ignored.

"Huh? Can you repeat the question?"

"As light from a star spreads out and weakens, do gaps form between the photons?" Mr. Shadis repeated, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Um... No?" Eren started having no idea what the hell to say.

"Incorrect. As usual." Shadis scoffed with a slight smirk, satisfied that he managed to crush and embarrass yet another student.

Eren looked down as his face heated up, now he looked like a moron in front of Y/n. Maybe Jean was right, being himself wasn't going to help anything. Or better yet, maybe he should just give up on crushing on someone so out of his league.

"Mr. Shadis, I don't mean to interrupt but actually, Eren is correct. Gaps do not form between photons as light spreads out. Light is made up of tiny fundamental bits called photons. A photon is a quantum object. As such, a photon acts a little like a particle and a little like a wave." Y/n explained looking at their teacher with a slight gleam in her eyes, silently daring him to correct her.

"Ah, Miss L/n. It's nice to see you join the conversation for once, of course, you join to protect your boyfriend."

"Well I couldn't just leave him hanging when he was in the right and knew what he was talking about, isn't that right Eren?"

The smile on the said male's face was entirely too big, he had died and gone straight to Heaven. All the misfortune he had experienced before meant nothing now that Y/n had acknowledged him. He had won at life.

"Um yeah exactly. I have to say, you explained it better than I could." He cleared his throat and looked directly at her, his heart pounding through his ears as she kept eye contact with him.

"Thanks but I just tend to over-explain things, so don't feel bad. Simplicity is nice sometimes."

"Okay that enough, anyways back to the lesson at hand." Shadis grumbled.

Eren waited for the bell to ring before he shot up and walked over to Y/n's seat, the tanned girl was still packing up her belongings. Now that he was close enough, Eren could smell the sweet aroma that radiated off of her body, strawberries, and coconut. Her long braids were pulled up into a half up half down style and her edges had been laid to perfection.

The male felt his palms grow sweaty as he continued to look at her, Jesus had she always been this beautiful? Y/n looked back up at him as her two-toned glossed lips morphed into a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Hi, Eren."

"Hey... um, thanks again for earlier."

"It's no trouble really, can't let Shadis bully his students right?"

"Yeah... yeah" Eren licked his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets now growing self-conscious about what he chose to wear to school.

A tight black wife-beater, grey and white flannel with ripped blue jeans, and finally black Air Forces. Granted it was usual for him, but he wasn't sure if his usual was something Y/n would even remotely be attracted to.

"So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today.." He blurted after gathering all of his confidence.

Y/n's face looked shocked for a moment before she gave an apologetic smile looking away slightly; Eren felt his heart drop to his stomach instantly knowing whatever she was about to say was going to ruin his happy mood.

"Sorry. I can't-"

"Yeah, it's cool. Nevermind forget I asked." Eren walked off, not wanting to act like a dick in front of her.

He knew his temper wasn't exactly the best, but the last thing he wanted was to blow up on her of all people. That's why he was now at the park sitting on a table beside Armin who was doing homework, which really made no sense to Eren since Armin was the one who suggested going to the park in the first place.

"I was so close man. Like all she had to do was say yes."

"So let me get this straight, Y/n defended your dumbass in class and you still fumbled the ball? Wow, Yeager, you surprise me every day." Jean laughed as he watched Connie roll the blunt.

"Say something else and I swear I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. Say something else, I fucking dare you." Eren glared as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Ayo calm down, don't be getting mad at grade-a asshole over here because of your shortcomings. Jean is a dick don't get me wrong but beating his ass won't help your situation." Connie tsked as he gazed up at Eren.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go skate." Eren stood up and grabbed his board, moving away from his friends.

Sometimes skating was the only thing that could get him to relax, well that and his mother's cookies. But currently, the older he got, the more skating seemed to help him cope with all the bullshit he dealt with on a daily. This skateboard has been with him for years, despite how rough he was with it, it managed to outlast all of the crazy stunts he'd pull.

Eren got a running start and jumped on his board enjoying the feeling of the wind blowing on his face; his eyes fluttered shut as the wind continued to tickle his face. A peaceful sigh escaped his lips as he shifted his body, concentrating on using his other senses.

He would often skate blindfolded, there was something about having the trust all of your other senses to not wind up hurting yourself or others. More than he'd like to admit, usually it would be him that got the short end of the stick.

"Watch out!" A familiar voice screeched causing Eren to snap his eyes open.

His eyes widened as he saw a young girl sitting right in the middle of his path, usually stopping would be no problem for Eren, unfortunately since his focus was thrown off. He continued to advance towards the girl, but in the last second decided to perform a rather high Ollie. Luckily he managed to maneuver his trick perfectly, however, due to the altitude of his jump, the male lost his footing and crashed into the concrete.

"Fuck!" He hissed in pain as he knew he tore skin.

"Oh my god! Are you okay? I'm so sorry." A female voice called out to him as he laid on the ground.

"Just fucking peachy," He sat up ready to finally blow up only to come face to face with Y/n. "Erm. I mean yeah it hurt but I'm fine."

"You're bleeding and it's my fault. I'm so sorry." She panicked as she inspected his face, her warm hands darting out to grab his face.

Suddenly all the pain disappeared from his body, he was on cloud nine again. Eating shit on concrete felt like a piece of cake now that she was here pampering him.

"It's no problem, Y/n. I've felt worse." He replied trying to ease her worries.

"I turn away for one moment and then Gabi just disappeared."

"Hey, it's okay. Y/n look at me, I'm fine." He chuckled and placed his larger hand over hers.

Y/n stared at him for a moment before averting her eyes, seeming to be flustered as she stood up. She shifted awkwardly and stumbled backward, much to Eren's confusion.

"Stay right there. I got some first aid stuff in my car. I'll be right back." She mumbled as she rushed away.

Eren watched her silently with a shit-eating grin on his face, despite his nose and lip bleeding profusely. He watched her baby blue skirt flow along with the over-sized white graphic t-shirt. When Y/n came back, she held tightly onto a little girl's hand and dropped the first-aid kit clumsily as she made eye-contact with Eren.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry."

"Y/n, I never knew you were this uncoordinated." He hummed teasingly as she bent down to grab the kit.

"I'm usually not. It's just because-" She stopped herself and smiled at him. "Nevermind it's nothing."

She sat down in front of him and began to clean the cuts along with scrapes. Y/n bandaged them all up carefully whilst avoiding looking at the male who could nothing but stare at her. His turquoise eyes greedily soaked in the appearance of her face, after-all with how close she was, how could he not?

"And done...Now Gabi," Y/n smiled sweetly, backing away from him as she grabbed the little girl's hand again. "Apologize to Eren. He could have gotten hurt."

"Why should I care? I was there first. He almost messed me up and then I'd have to start all over with my chalk." Gabi sneered and crossed her arms.

"Gabi! Apologize now. Or I'll make sure Reiner, knows about your behavior recently." Y/n said sternly.

"Fine. I'm sorry. Sorry, that you got in my way." Gabi stuck her tongue out at Eren and blew a loud raspberry.

"That's it go stand by the car. Right now." Y/n snapped looking at the child.

"But-" Gabi started as her eyes widened, seeming to not be used to punishment from Y/n.

"No buts. Go. Now." Y/n demanded pointing at the car.

Gabi walked away grumbling to herself and Y/n looked back at Eren apologetically. He stared at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin.

"Charming kid."

"She usually isn't like this."

"Oh really? She seems like an angel." He sarcastically replied.

"I'm sorry Eren. Is there any way I can make it up to you?" She mumbled softly looking at him with her big brown eyes.

Eren stiffened up and silently began to recite the pledge of allegiance, there was no reason for how ridiculously attractive she looked when she said that little stupid phrase.

"Let me take you on a date." He blurted dreamily not realizing it had slipped out of his mouth.

"A date?" Y/n questioned curiously.

"Yes. A date, you and me." He responded despite his chest-beating heavily.

"...I don't know." She mumbled looking away from him.

"Y/n..." Eren stood up and looked down at her, cupping her face gently, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "I've had the biggest crush on you since sophomore year. I thought that it would just go away but no matter what I've always just thought about you. Despite the two other girls I've dated, I wanted you. I've never dared to ask you because you're clearly out of my league and I just-"

He was silenced by Y/n pressing her lips against his mouth and Eren was sure he felt his knees buckle, the taste of her vanilla lip-gloss was the tastiest thing he had consumed. He kissed back desperately not wanting the moment to end, his hands held her jaw a little tighter. Y/n broke the kiss first with a bashful smile.

"I like you Eren. I've liked you since middle school. I was just nervous because I thought you were out of my league."

"Bullshit, you're like an Earth goddess and I'm just a dumbass." He protested as his hands found their way to her hips.

"No, you're sweet, caring, friendly, and all-around a really good guy." She hummed wrapping her hands around his neck.

"Mm well, I guess I can say this shit was worth the wait." He leaned down their noses touching gently.

"Definitely," Y/n repeated before Eren captured her lips into another sweet kiss.

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

"Okay, I need to go now." Y/n laughed as he peppered kisses down her shoulder.

"Mm then leave" Eren mumbled nipping at her skin softly.

"I would but you won't let me leave your lap." She retorted as she looked down at his hands that held tightly onto her waist.

"Then I guess you can't go." He grinned.

"Okay, you guys are starting to make me sick." Jean stood up, setting his controller down.

"Yeah me too, Armin why the fuck did you have to set them up." Connie mumbled as he painted his nails.

"What?" Eren paused his motions and looked at his blonde best friend, who was reading a book.

"You guys kept moping to me about liking each other and whenever I advised to just be upfront about your feelings, you guys just ignored me. What else was I supposed to do?" He questioned setting his book down, as it dawns on both Y/n and Eren; they had been manipulated.

"Dammit, Armin." Y/n mumbled despite the smile on her face.

Eren was definitely in Armin's debt forever after realizing he was the reason that Y/n was his girlfriend. The brunette smiled thinking of the perfect way to help his friend, and what better way could he repay him by setting him up with his crush as well?

[kiribakuhappiness]

Some notes for a KiriBaku AU that I would love to write one day but probably won’t ever find the time to, so here’s the barebones outline for it at least because I thought it was a fun idea! :,D

Lady & the Tramp

Gentleman and the Tramp

- Eijirou has always lived a comfortable lifestyle. He’s always had food in his belly and a roof over his head and a fireplace to huddle around during cold bitter nights. His parents’ marriage was filled with love and their house was filled with warmth and, with a new baby sister on the way, things were looking pretty good for him.

- Katsuki hasn’t known such comfort since he was a young boy, when his mom was arrested for something he didn’t even know what cause he was too young to have coherent thoughts yet and his father cracked under the pressure of being a single parent to an explosively rebellious child. The streets weren’t ideal, but Katsuki grew up tougher than his old man and more intelligent than what was for his own good, and so he made the most of it.

- Eijirou’s close friends are Denki /a local artist/ and Sero /a general store clerk/ who regularly visit with him at his house.

- Katsuki would say that he doesn’t have friends but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t begrudgingly accept the friendship of an overly zealous newspaper boy by the name of Deku, who mentions to him one day how the wealthy Kirishima family is expecting another child.

- Katsuki comments that he doesn’t see how that could possibly be news to anyone, until later that day when he overhears a rather disturbing conversation about how someone is planning on kidnapping the baby for ransom.

- “A yuppy family like that’ll no doubt pay extra-”

- “double,”

- “triple!”

- Intrigued by all the commotion, Katsuki visits the Kirishima Mansion, eyeing the picturesque Japanese gardens with some underlying prejudice and the perfectly manicured yards with barely contained disgust. A real run-of-the-mill, too fancy for their own good establishment; Katsuki’s finding it hard to gather any sort of sympathy for them.

- While observing the manor in all its glory, Katsuki overhears Eijirou speaking with Denki and Sero about the new baby and how excited they all are for its arrival. Unable to help himself from chiming in with his own opinion, Katsuki comments how bringing another child into the world when there are already so many on the streets that need homes could be seen as the utmost snobby act of privilege shown by the upper class. A real kick in the groin to those struggling to make ends meet out in the real world.

- Denki and Sero are immediately put off by Katsuki’s cynicism and tell him to slink back to the grimy part of the city where he came from, but something about his speech gave Eijirou pause. He’s never met a man as bold and bitter as Katsuki, and the abrupt change in perspective is baffling to him.

- Katsuki holds his chin up high following an ominous warning to “keep that spoiled little brat with the silver spoon you’ll shove in its mouth under close supervision” before he finally takes his leave.

- Eijirou soon forgets this strange encounter, as a few months later his new sister is born. Eijirou takes on a lot of the responsibility - feeding and changing and wholeheartedly enthusiastic to learn the ins-and-outs of parenting. He’s seen the amount of stress the pregnancy had on his mother, and he wants to help, so he offers that they go on a vacation and leave the baby with him.

- Unwilling to leave their infant with their teen son, the Kirishima’s hire a nanny service to help with the upkeep. Eijirou knows it’s rude not to like someone based on prejudice, but he’s got an uneasy feeling about Himiko Toga. He can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. She’s fairly sweet upon first introductions and seems capable enough, but Eijirou can’t really figure out that look in her eyes whenever she’s holding his sister, like she’s thinking about darting out the door and taking off with her or something just as silly.

- That dumb street boy must have really gotten in his head.

- Reluctant to leave his sister in the care of a stranger, but knowing that Eijirou has errands to run and that letting a random sitter take his parent’s credit cards probably wouldn’t be a very smart idea, he takes the plunge and sets off into town for the day to gather supplies and puts Himiko in charge.

- As he’s leaving the grocer, he stumbles across Katsuki again, who is being forcefully removed from a convenient shop down the street while a portly man reprimands him for stealing, barking out a stern “get a fucking job, street rat!” before slamming the door in his face. Katsuki flips the guy off and continues on his way with hardly a pause, and Eijirou knows that he’ll merely move onto the next place as his sharp red eyes are already searching for a new target.

- “Are you hungry?” Eijirou asks as he falls into step beside him. “I could get you something from the grocer!”

- “Don’t need your damn handouts, rich boy,” Katsuki is adamant to inform him that he doesn’t need any help.

- Eijirou is perplexed by this refusal. He’d just watched him get thrown out of a store and yet Katsuki’s confidence could have fooled the most common of men into believing he were the descent of some royal lineage.

- Still, Eijirou is just as stubborn as he is, maybe even more so. He can’t help but let it eat away at him; his family has lots of money to spare, he wouldn’t mind paying for some groceries, honest! But Katsuki is shrewd and proud... and yet oh-so very easily manipulated.

- Eijirou tells him that he’s looking a little on the skinny side, so he must not be very good at living on his own. Katsuki takes immediate offense to this statement and takes Eijirou around town as though to prove him wrong, showing him parts of the city that Eijirou has only heard about in books, taking him through the slums where a large portion of people greet Katsuki like family despite the cold shoulder he gives them in return.

- It’s clear that he’s done a lot for the community, in his own hot-headed ways. Teaching the young girls living in poverty how to properly defend themselves, sharing scarce food with whoever he comes across who looks like they haven’t gotten enough for themselves, standing up against the rich and the wretched who like to look their noses down on them for their misfortunes.

- Even with his hardened exterior, Eijirou is surprised to find just how warm a presence Katsuki can be. How freeing it is to wander the city and live without order or rules or a clock to keep track of time. It’s a liberating sensation to skinny-dip in the harbor despite all of the signs telling them that they weren’t allowed to, and to sneak into the junk yard to sit in an old muscle car listening to music, and to visit some wholesome family kitchens where they were treated to an array of new samples after it’s revealed that the owners knew Katsuki when he was just a baby - long before his mother was arrested and his father became the shell of the man he used to be - and they’ve always made it a priority to feed him whenever he happened to meander unknowingly into their neighborhood.

- Eijirou sees his beloved city through a brand new lens, and he likes what he sees. Musutafu has never looked more enticing and adventurous than it had been that night.

- Katsuki offers to walk Eijirou back to his ‘big ole mansion’ under the guise of added protection. “You’ll be fuckin’ mugged if you walk around lookin’ like that at this hour.”

- Eijirou thinks they might kiss once they reach the gate to his property, but he can sense the tension settling in Katsuki’s shoulders as they get closer to the abode, and a bitterness starts to grow on his face that chills the warmth they had begun to grow between them. Eijirou decides to ask him about what he meant when he said that they should keep a close eye on his sister after her birth, but Katsuki is evasive and avoids his gaze and doesn’t give him a straight answer.

- He’s hiding something, he knows more than he’s letting on.

- Eijirou tells him that there’s going to be a party at the Kirishima Mansion that weekend to celebrate the birth of his sister, and invites him to come for the food.

- Katsuki tells him not to hold his breath and leaves without another look back.

- Eijirou worries that he might have upset him somehow and goes back into town a few days later to try and find him, but even the family kitchen comments that they haven’t seen him around lately. He begins to think the worst until he meets Camie and Shouto, two teens from equally wealthy families who visit the Kirishima Mansion with their parents on the day of the party to meet the baby.

- As it turns out, both Camie and Shouto know Katsuki from school. Apparently, the Bakugous used to be pretty well-known and were fairly respected in the fashion industry before his mother’s very public meltdown and the destruction of the Bakugou legacy.

- Shouto explains how he used to attend lessons with Katsuki at the university, studying under their apprenticeship program, and how he has always had a raging temper, but that his dedication to his studies and resilience in his training were both very admirable traits. He’d dare even go as far to say that they were friends, at one point in time.

- Camie’s intel, on the other hand, is far more risqué and full of gossip.

- She tells Eijirou about how Katsuki was “a lone wolf who couldn’t tell you the definition of the word lonely,” hinting at a promiscuous past filled with midnight escapades of sneaking off campus to drink and roam around the city with whoever had fallen head-over-heels for his aloof charisma that month. She describes how he draws people in with the promise of mystery, and leaves them behind when his true aggressive nature is revealed after any amount of prolonged exposure.

- She should know, of course. She’s been there and done that before.

- ‘you can never tell when he’ll show up’ / ‘he gives you plenty of trouble’ / ‘I guess he’s just a no count pup’ / ‘but I wish that he were double’

- The overwhelming consensus is that Katsuki may have had a bright future at one point but, as Shouto comments, “Some are just luckier than others, and Bakugou’s luck ran out long ago.”

- Camie mentions Shouto’s older brother who went down a similar path, and Shouto’s only response to that is, “You can’t really save someone who doesn’t want to be saved...”

- As the party winds down and the guests start to leave, Eijirou can’t help but think about Katsuki. He’s a little put off to know that the day they had spent together in the city probably wasn’t the only round-trip adventure that Katsuki has gone on. He doesn’t even want to know how many others there have been, and he feels somewhat foolish for thinking that there was anything more between them than that.

- That night after all the guests are gone, Katsuki shows up in the back gardens.

- Eijirou doesn’t understand why he waited so long, and Katsuki explains how ‘those people’ wouldn’t want him there anyway and that it’s for the best. Eijirou is still a little jaded about everything he had learned from Shouto and Camie, and he tells Katsuki that he doesn’t have the time to be messing around with guys who don’t take him seriously and who don’t know how to take responsibility for themselves.

- Katsuki looks like he wants to say something, but instead he ends up leaving in a furious huff, and Eijirou believes that it’s the last time he’ll probably ever see him. He tries to remember Katsuki’s earlier words.

- It’s for the best.

- Even though it doesn’t really feel like it is.

- Unable to sleep in the middle of the night, Eijirou goes to check on his sister in her crib only to find that Himiko has invited two men over to the mansion; Dabi and Tomura. Eijirou catches them red-handed in the parlor as they’re attempting to steal valuable family heirlooms and making a plan to kidnap the baby for ransom later.

- Eijirou fights with everything he has in him to stop them, but it’s three against one and he never really stood a chance. Himiko disappears upstairs to grab the baby while Dabi and Tomura deal with Eijirou, brandishing knives without any intentions of holding back.

- Katsuki arrives after breaking in through the kitchen, having kept tabs on the growing rumors around the city that a group of assholes were planning on kidnapping the baby girl, and he helps Eijirou fight off Dabi and Tomura, who escape into the night with Himiko when it’s obvious that their attempt has failed.

- The police arrive on the scene shortly after, and it’s Katsuki who takes the hit in the fallout of everything, arrested for petty theft and breaking & entering despite Eijirou’s adamant arguing against it.

- The police aren’t interested in hearing his side of the story, though.

- One act of kindness doesn’t expunge a man of several years worth of crime.

- Katsuki is taken into custody and shipped off to the station, and Eijirou is left behind to clean up the mess and tend to his sister.

- When his parents fly back into the city the next morning following the news of the attempted kidnapping, Eijirou recounts the events of the past week to them, and shortly after their arrival from the airport they go to the station together to pay off Katsuki’s bail.

- Katsuki is resistant at first, unfamiliar with this type of treatment and reluctant to accept it, but Eijirou tells him how grateful he is that he had been there that night, and believes that everyone deserves a second chance, even someone as jagged and prickly as Katsuki.

- The Kirishimas make a few sizeable donations to the city and the family kitchen from before in Katsuki’s honor, boasting about his heroicism and how their family is indebted to him, and Katsuki finds himself back in their neighborhood more often than not to attend cookouts and charity events.

- He still feels out of place in their fancy home, and he’s not so great with Eijirou’s sister, but he tries to make an effort, he works hard to make the most of it, and Eijirou would never ask anything more from him than that.

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm?