#PLEASE let them bake together i'll sell you my house

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1156: Nightly Christmas Shopping Around Southtown (King of Fighters)

6:45 p.m. at Southtown's Stanfield Mall: Clothes Store........

Rock: So that's what a onesie looks like, huh?

Shingo: (Happily Shows Off a Blue Colored Cat Onesie He's Currently Wearing in Front of the Dressing Room) Yep! Comes with various different sets and colors: cows, horses, elephants, lions, King of Dinosaurs, you name it and they're probably selling a few of them elsewhere. I'm thinking of getting another cat one for Leona-san for Christmas this year so we can match. Different colors though, I'm hoping Teal colors are still in stock.....

Rock: (Nodded in Agreement) Yeah, I can see her wearing something like that on her off days. You two would look more like a cuter pair than you are already.

Shingo: More like cuter trio. We can't forgive about Heather in the equation. Check it! (Presents Rock Another Onesie, Kitten Size)

Rock: (Chuckles Lightly) They actually cat sized onesies too?

Shingo: I know, crazy right? I just found out about it after I left the house. It's looks so adorable~ (Presents Rock a Wolf Onesie in his Other Hand) I even got you cool wolf one if you ever wanna join in on the club.

Rock: (Smiles Sheepishly) I'll.....give it some thought later, bud.

Few Minutes Later at the Candy/ Sweets Shop

Rock: (Picks Up a Tall Looking Candy Cane From Out of a Barrel) How about we give the girls this candy cane? It's nothing too special, but I have no doubt she'll enjoy it regardless.

Shingo: (Nodded in Agreement) Sounds good. (Shows Rock Four Chocolate Bars in his Hands) We could also give them these Willy Wonka's Chocolate Bars as a bonus, but we're gonna have a find a really clever hiding spot for all of them.

Rock: ('Sigh') That's easier said than done really. Kula has a nose of a bloodhound.

Shingo: ('Sigh') So does Naomi.......You think Terry still have that Mini Fridge of his?

Rock: Probably? I'll have to ask him tomorrow. But for now, let's try and hide them somewhere neither of their noses can find.

Shingo: Right.

Few Minutes Later at a Sunglasses Store

Rock: (Sighs While Looking for the Coolest Looking Sunglasses They Have in One Selection) I swear, of all the things he could want for Christmas this year, why does it have to be pair of sunglasses? (Turns to Shingo) Doesn't he already have enough of them back home or something?

Shingo: (Shrugs) Probably. Even then, that won't stop him from getting more.

Rock: (Forms a Bit of a Teasing Smirk at Shingo) Sounds like a certain someone else I know with notebooks.

Shingo: (Starts Pouting at Rock) Hey, at least I use my notebooks for strategic and research purposes. K' has a million sunglasses under his belt and I have YET to see him wear anything different than the one he's wearing now!

Rock: True, but you can't deny some similarities you guys have from each other

Shingo: ('Scoffs') Oh please. (Crosses his Arms Together While Turning Away) I'm way more mature and proactive than that mopey, lazy bones wishes he would be!.....(Slowly Turns Back to Rock) D-Don't tell him I said any of that, okay?

Rock: Help me bake a few treats for the party in a few days and I'll pretend this conversation even happen. (Put his Hand Out)

Shingo: (Gives Rock an Agreement Handshake) Deal.

Few Minutes Later at the Pet Shop Store

Rock: (Looks Down at Some of the Items He Got inside the Basket He's Carrying) Okay. I got one two marten plushies for Itokatsu to play with, a star-shaped chew toy for Antoine and a mini Terry costume for Ukee to wear.

Shingo: You know, I always keep forgetting you guys used to have monkey for a pet.

Rock: Yeah, it has been a while since we last saw him, but I heard from Uncle Andy that he's been doing great in hus and Aunt Mai's place as of late. Speaking of which.....(Pulls Out a List From his Coat Pocket) After we leave here, we gotta head to the Besuty Shop to get a hair spray for Aunt Mai, a Swan Soap for Mary, and a Sakura Flower hairpin for....(Clears his Throat a Bit While Blushing) Hotaru.....

Shingo: (Chuckles Lightly) D'awww~ You're buying your girlfriend a Christmas gift already?~

Rock: (Sighs While Rolling his Eyes) Don't start. She told me was going to get me something days ago, so I figured I would try and return a flavor. I just hope there's still some more left in stock. Heard they ran out quicker this time of year.

Shingo: Then we'll just have to get it before anyone else does. Im sure sure it won't be that hard to do, right?

An Hour and a Half Later at the Beauty Shop

'Door Opens'

Rock and Shingo jumps out of the store in an exhausted state.

Rock: (Starts Panting Along with Shingo) Thank.....GOD.....we got out of there......

Shingo: Right!? It was like.....a freaking WARZONE in there!.....

Rock: And those perfumes.....Who idea was it spray them all over the place!?

Shingo: I dunno, man.....But those ladies in there.....REALLY weren't holding any punches at all.....

Rock: They didn't. (Pulls Something Out From Inside. Bag) But at least we got what we were looking this whole time- Ah dammit! I got the wrong flower!

Shingo: (Takes a Look at the Rose Shaped Hairpin Rock's Holding) Well, you can never go wrong with anything rose related.

Rock: ('Sighs Heavily') I guess....At least it's better than coming out here empty handed. I'm never going back in there for as long as I live.

Shingo: Neither will I. (Notices a Bench Sitting Right in Front of Them) Wanna go sit down for a bit? I'm too exhausted to walk now....

Rock: (Gets Himself Up From the Ground Before Helping Shingo Up Afterwards) Sure. We could use a bench break right now.

The duo makes their way to the bench and sit themselves down, exhaling plenty amount of relief from out of their systems.

Shingo: Don't know about you, Rock, but I think I might be done with Christmas shopping for now

Rock: The list is near completion, so we'll get more done in a day or two. Maybe have K' and Kula tag along next time around.

Shingo: I'm down with that motion. It'll give me more time to think about something special I wanna give you this year.

Rock: (Turns to Shingo) You don't have to go out of your way to do that for me, even if it is for the holidays.

Shingo: (Turns to Rock) I know, but you're the first new friend I've ever made since I've moved here. So I wanna show just how much I appericate you and our friendship so far, you know?

Rock: (Heart Begins to Melt in Genuine Happiness) I appericate you too, man. Our friendship alone is more than enough of a Christmas gift for me to have going forward.

Shingo: (Heart Starts Melting in Happiness as Well)

Rock: (Shrugs) Buuuut if you still insist on getting me something regardless, then I won't stop you. Just don't get me something too expensive, yeah?

Shingo: (Starts Smirking a Bit) Give me a hug and I'll get you cheapest looking jacket known to men.

Rock: (Chuckles Lightly) Sounds good to me! (Gives Shingo His Much Need Hug) Thank you.

Shingo: (Hugs Rock Back) No problem. Happy Holidays, Rock Howard Bogard.

Rock: You too, Shingo Yabuki. You too.

@thelexhex

@tampire

@albion-93

@theweebmaster31

[drawbauchery]

The Second Session

fic by cartoons-tothemoon

“So, let’s review, last session, we broke you down to many of your core traits and neuroses.”

“Thanks for reminding me, it’s not like I have the capacity to remember last week.” Skipper muttered.

“Well, now we’re here to build you back up, and work from that onwards.” Hans said. He had his hands folded plainly in his lap, and he’d changed the lighting in the office. Skipper hated it. He hated having to sit across from a smug as shit Hans as he waited calmly and quietly for Skipper to begin talking, with that terrible, blinding light that gave off a strangely clinical feel that makes him more uneasy than anything else. He wonders if Hans would let him sleep for the hour he was meant to spend here. Sure, he’d be paying $35 for a nap, which was crazy in of itself, but he knows from experience that sometimes all you need is a good nap to be a functioning person again.

“I’m not in the position to really diagnose you with anything, and even if I was, I’d still need more time to get to know your mind before I could really prescribe anything for your current conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Plural. Like children trying to sneak into a cineplex in a trench coat, what was once one turned out to be two or more disorders standing on top of one another’s shoulders. Bouts of aggression and insomnia tied to intense paranoia, a complex that comes from being a leader, and a fear of depending on others. Abandonment issues, repression-“

Skipper waved his hands in a forceful sort of wave, “yes, thank you. Just tell me what to do about it already.”

“What?”

“Just fix me already.” Skipper seemed frustrated. “You’re the one who thinks I’m broken in the first place, the only reason I’m here in the first place is to prevent any future surprise tea parties.”

Hans sighed. They were barely even 5 minutes in, and Hans just knew he was going to be spending the rest of the session constructing arguments for statements Skipper constructed in seconds.

“If this was only to prevent any more…surprise visits from moi, then I would’ve been fine with just the first session. And I think you know that.”

He did. He did know that. Hans suggested the idea of a second session, and so did Skipper, in the way that you do when you’re bonding with people you have a rather hostile history with. No commitment was really stated, which left the ball in Skipper’s court, but what was he supposed to do after that thorough deconstruction, let it simmer in his soul for the rest of his known life?

He couldn’t even let it simmer for a whole week at this point, after all, he was already considering asking RICO of all people if he was too arrogant a leader and intentionally pushing people away.

RICO.

It made sense at the time, Kowalski would question where he was learning such jargon and be able to draw conclusions based on his recent absence, and Private would do nothing but validate him. Because he was just that nice, he supposed.

“Second, it’s not about being “broken” or “fixed” or what have you, the fact of the matter is that you have the most high-stress job in your already high-stress career. As much as I enjoyed our battles in the fish markets of Denmark, it’s not like the experience hasn’t done something to me, or you for that matter.”

Hans sighed, he was already just so exhausted by this…session. He’d even revealed that he too shared in mental health struggles if Skipper was willing to pick up the scraps left behind for him. Skipper looked a little surprised, sure, but fell back into an understood complacency sooner than later.

Was this the closest they were ever going to get to a true understanding of the other?

He supposed he’d have to take it.

“And lastly, I can’t tell you how to “fix” yourself. I’m a therapist, not a life coach. I’m not here to give advice, I’m here to examine your trauma, and give you a better perspective on how to move forward. However, I can’t take those steps for you. You kinda have to figure out a lot of those things on your own.”

Skipper looked positively moody about this, but less in a spoiled, petulant five-year-old sort of way, and more…accepting of it. He looked tired, and less because it was barely just a quarter past 1. It was an abstract tiredness, one not born of resting or restlessness, but a thing all its own.

Skipper sighed. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“This is a timely process for a reason, Skipper. Many people can spend years in therapy trying to handle these exact issues.”

“I didn’t realize this was a life sentence in the making.” Skipper muttered.

God, this was already such a process. Hans could tell that Skipper couldn’t stand the vagueness of this all. He was an action guy, he wanted an easy solution of doing task A to accomplish thing B, and achieve reward C, and go on with his life.

No, not even an easy solution. A clear solution. Skipper was a problem solver. All of this was already so abstract, and he didn’t even know if he was so vehemently against this whole process just because it was him, or just because it was therapy at all. He even had a client who after a bad experience with a therapist in middle school decided to turn her sessions into stand-up, just because she was already so familiar and so bored with the process.

Maybe that’s what he needed to channel. Therapy in of itself was at the best of times uncomfortable and at the worst of times boring. He was already dealing with a high energy, high stress client, who was uncomfortable as all hell with being there. If he put him back into a comfortable situation, he may or may not get something out of him, and if he doesn’t, at the very least make him more comfortable with spending time with him at all, off the clock, at least.

“What do you like to do, Skipper? In your free-time?”

Skipper eyed him suspiciously. “Uh, why?”

“I’m trying something. Trust me here.”

That could’ve been phrased SO much better, from nemesis to nemesis, but Skipper seemed willing in the moment to run with that trust. “I like working on my combat capabilities, driving around, sometimes I watch TV and movies, I help Private bake when he feels like it, I nap, I gamble…”

Skipper seemed to be drawing a blank for whatever reason. Surely, he had things he did in his free time, right? It wasn’t like he was ALWAYS on the clock, he just never really thought of certain periods of time as…free. What even counted as free-time anyhow? Was it just time that wasn’t spent doing other things? Under that definition, no time was free.

“Can I say this to you as both a friend, an enemy, and somebody who’s known you for quite a few years at this point?”

Skipper nodded hesitantly.

“Jesus Christ, you need some hobbies.” Hans stated, matter of factly. “Working on your “combat capabilities,” as you put it, seems to be a literal constant considering your job as…however your job is defined, so it’s less play and more work than anything else. You mentioned helping Private bake “when he feels like it,” and I wouldn’t exactly call napping a hobby, or gambling a healthy one.”

Skipper shrugged. It’s not like “Stomp the Wombat” ever left the confines of the lair, anyhow.

“It just feels like you don’t have a lot of things you do just for yourself, you know? Driving around and watching TV are the only hobbies that feel wholly your own, something you don’t do for work or for others. Keep in mind that you can keep doing these things you enjoy, but perhaps you should find other things for yourself. Like an instrument, or a cooking class.”

“I told the boys that I joined a bowling league just to be here.”

“And did that seem believable enough for you to do to be here?”

His silence told Hans everything, but not the literal everything of Skipper “going to bed” at 8 just to climb through his window at 12:30, shimmy down the fire escape, and walk to Hans’s office.

But he probably could tell anyhow.

Of course, this kind of put a blight on Hans’s plans to make Skipper more comfortable while being here, and as he told him such, Skipper proceeded to lay down on the couch. Hans couldn’t tell the exact reason for the action, but it did seem to be a point of exasperation for him.

“Well, damn, sorry I “foiled your plot” to make myself comfortable in the den of the beast.”

“Skipper, you insult me. You really think I’d decorate my den with wooden sailboats? Absolutely criminal.”

“You seem to forget that.” He muttered. Hans ignored it.

“Although the hobby talk didn’t exactly lead where I thought it could…It did lead me elsewhere.”

“Goddamn it.”

“What skill have you always wanted to learn? What’s something that you’ve wanted to try for just, so long, and never got the chance to?”

Skipper began to pick at his lip. This whole talk already made him nervous, but now what was he supposed to say? That he figured he’d be in the back of a truck with is hand hanging out the taillight since he was 14, for whatever reason, so he didn’t even bother considering his top 3 colleges, let alone any future ambitions?

Still, if he was quiet for too long, either Hans would judge him, or he’d render his lips a bloody mess, and that’d be a whole different thing to deal with.

“…Archery sounds fun.” He said. Hans nodded.

“That’s interesting. It’s closely related to your pre-established interests but it’s closer to a sport now than something to be used in an actual combat situation, which sort of allows it to be separated from your work.”

Skipper nodded as well, allowing Hans to believe that that was his thought process from the start, and more of just curious to see if he could shoot a flame off a candle like Annie Oakley.

“You mentioned you liked baking with Private. Do you like the idea of baking itself, or just doing it with another person?”

“Food is meant to be shared?” Skipper seemed to be asking, but also stated in a very definitive way. “It’s a process. It’d be weird not to help in the process.”

Hans pulled his hand away from Skipper’s mouth, where a few small cuts were beginning to form. “If you’d like to have a session where we did a low-stress activity you wanted to do, and we talked while doing so, I think it’d put you in the best conductive environment possible to actually combat the problems that seem so visible to me. This was a good first development, though. I just don’t know if I can expect on accidental issues to identify and attack every time.”

Hans sighed and got up from his chair to stare out the window. Skipper didn’t know why he did this, outside of being a dramatic bitch, but it got him to look anyhow.

“It’s so incidental, many people struggle with balancing work and life as is, but this could easily be one of the main causes of your paranoia, as well as causing a level of detachment and depersonalization, which relates to how you relate to others.”

And well, damn. What was Skipper supposed to say to that?

“Our time’s almost up.” Hans said, checking his watch. Skipper was coming to realize how strange time in therapy was. It simultaneously felt like hours and seconds passing all at once. Perhaps it was because there were no clocks, like a casino. Or maybe it was because going to therapy at 1 in the morning didn’t exactly give you a sun to follow in terms of time. Hans handed Skipper a weird sort of rack with string on it, along with some tissues.

“It’s a loom. Fidget with something that won’t bleed for the next five minutes, if you would.”

Skipper glared at him for the snide comment, but Skipper didn’t exactly put it back where Hans had stored it originally. Picking at the strings inanely didn’t feel as satisfying as his usual fidgets, but it would work until he lost focus and the skin had time to heal.

“I’m giving you three assignments until our next session.” Skipper would’ve originally rolled his eyes at the idea of homework, but there was something that felt already strange about this session. Last session, he was so thoroughly antagonized and owned in such a way that his entire psychological history had been exposed, but this made last session feel like…a misstep. It was almost like Hans was trying to give the rug back to Skipper after it had already been so unceremoniously swept away from him.

He seemed as unsure about this as he was, he even confided about the state of his own mental health, something he probably wasn’t supposed to do. Which, honestly, made Skipper feel better about the whole thing. He didn’t like being guided, and as much as he detested having to do this whole thing with Hans in particular, the idea of having to figure out a stranger at the same time they were trying to figure out him sounded like a nightmare. More than this already was.

The whole session felt off, sure, but it wasn’t as off as it could’ve been, and he knows it could only be worse.

“I want you to begin researching archery, if you really want to pursue it as a hobby, you should try to learn what you can about it before jumping in and figuring out it isn’t what you thought it was.”

“I want you to pay a compliment to each of your team members in a casual way, this’ll strengthen your bonds with them, in a way that allows you to affirm that you appreciate them, as much as they appreciate you.”

Okay, that sounded like hippie nonsense, but who was he to judge at this point.

“And finally, I want you to pick out a recipe to prepare during our next session.”

“Wait, what?”

“A recipe. Something that’ll take less than an hour. I have a friend who’d give me access to their kitchen in the middle of the night, so we’ll be on neutral ground, and I’m sure it’ll be more believable to your “boys” that if you really are doing something in the middle of the night, that you have physical proof of it. Considering how weirdly secretive you are already, the idea you covered up secret cooking lessons with a bowling league doesn’t sound too far-fetched.” Hans was muttering at this point. All these things answered questions he figured he’d have, but nothing that helped with where he was NOW.

“I know it’s a weird idea, but the clients who have had the chance to do different, vaguely active things during our sessions tend to be more open and honest with me about things that they’re worried about, things that they struggle with, and they can make for more engaging sessions where you actually take in what I’m telling you, and makes it less of a lecture.” Hans sighed. “If you hate it, we never have to try anything like that again, but, I do really want you to give it a try. This is a two-way street, I can only give as much as I myself get. I just got lucky this week.”

Skipper stopped strumming the loom.

“Text me the address.” He said, and Hans would have burst with joy if such a thing was appropriate in present company, until he realized.

“I…don’t have your number?”

“Oh, no, session’s over! Wow, how did the time fly? Guess you’ll just have to figure that out for yourself, what a swell talk we had, doc,” Skipper yelled as he headed out the door.

“Pay at the front desk!” Hans yelled back before relaxing into his chair. Skipper was never going to be an easy client to deal with. Maybe he wouldn’t ALWAYS dance around the issues at hand, but he was never going to REALLY come clean about it. There may be things they never talk about, the same way Hans did.

And that was fine. Maybe it made what little he did learn all the more rewarding. Maybe it made what little he learned all the more meaningless if Skipper ever reached a point of complete and utter honesty with him, a fantasy he knew would never see come to light.

But who was to say, really?

It was all a matter of time.

After all, this was only the second session.

(Ahh! I can’t believe I didn’t post another fic for a whole! Month! I think it’s just because I didn’t really know what to do for the second session, and I think you can kinda tell, considering it’s not like Hans knows what to do either. Do you guys really want a whole fic series about Skipper going to therapy? I have no idea. It’s pretty fun, though. I don’t know how Hans became a therapist, either, but I guess that’s just what the dude does now. By the way, the client who turned her therapy sessions into stand-up comedy? That was just me in high school with my mandated therapist. I once gave a funeral to a squeaky toy I broke in the middle of the session. It was simultaneously so sad and so funny at the exact same time.

This fic will be up on my ao3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadstrangerthings, as soon as @drawbauchery posts it!)

[carrottuan93]

Haven’t met you yet | Mark

Masterlist (3/4) | part1 - part2 - part4

Starring: MK x You

Tags: Mark Tuan, Fluff, Destiny, Waiting, Christmas, Bookworm, Nerd, Love, Fate

Total WC: 2194

You nearly puked your guts out to the sight of Jackson sticking to Eunhee and hugging her like forever has been robbed from them. You failed to confide to your best friend about what happened to you in the last 24 hours. So as not to spoil their couple time together, you chose to not disturb them and just mingle with all the kids in the sweet treats section. You love kids so much you play Santa and distributed macarons to each one of them. As expected, most of your close friends and guests brought their own boyfriends, if not, their own husbands and it was a nice show to witness, with sarcasm aside. Thanks to Jackson’s little cousins, they keep you entertained with their bubbly personality.

 “One with the kids, sure you’re missing the party in the adult section, no?” The sight of a guy clad in a formal white dress shirt, tucked in a black denim pants partnered with a classic chuck taylor, and a gray winter coat, welcomed your eyes. Guys who dress fashionably is such a head turner for you.

“Actually, they keep me company so I’m having fun to be honest.” You replied, feeling all the weird sensation cascading across your spine. You feel a bit nauseous whenever guys approach you. You don’t know if you even want to be with a guy right now, after your embarrassing experience last night.

 “My cousins here are a bunch of nuisance, you’ll get tired of them soon.” He picked one matcha macaron from the aisle and took a bite of it. You observed his expression. A smile crept up to his face and you caught sight of Eunhee in a distant, gossiping to Jackson that you’re having a moment with his cousin. You certainly know that they’re mentally pairing you up already and you are growing nervous about the plans that they are possibly plotting behind your back.

 “You like it? I bought them all the way from a café near my workplace that sells classic macarons just like the original ones from Paris.” He nodded in approval as you watch him took another piece, this time it’s strawberry. That’s your favorite flavor among the rest and you can really tell that the sweet tooth runs on Jackson’s bloodline by how his cousins, from the little chubby ones and the grown up beside you, munch on your favorite treat.

 “I never really eat macarons, but you introduced me into it. You deserve a recognition, uhm?” He lifted his hand for a handshake. He doesn’t know your name yet so you took his hand and introduced yourself right away.

 “It’s Y/n, Eunhee’s best friend. Thank you for the recognition by the way. Well, you come here with a date?” You’re mentally tiptoeing above the thin ice. It’s better to assume that this cute guy over here is already taken, I mean with his looks, he's totally a charmer, you thought to yourself.

 “I didn’t bring anyone with me, so I assume you also come along on your own, no?” Green light. Okay, you need to calm down. This isn’t like any of your past blind dates but first meetups are usually nerve wracking and scary so you played the innocent heroine that you are and chose to just go with the flow seeing how Eunhee and Jackson are staring at you maliciously from Mark’s back, you know they were able to receive the death notes you are sending them via telepathy.

 “That explains it.” It’s not that you had a thing with cute guys, but maybe you just discovered it right now. You can tell he’s a decent one, a cool and random Asian-American import from the west and maybe if you’re an ice cream, you already turned into liquid by the way he stares at you.

 “I don’t know anything about you yet, but would you trust a complete stranger to celebrate your Christmas eve with? If you’re up for it, we’ll leave this party right away because I can tell that you’re going to get sick from all these couples outnumbering us.” Have you been a good girl this year? You didn’t include this guy on your Christmas list but Santa rewarded you without even asking for it.

 “I’m putting my trust on you knowing that Jackson is a good guy so does his cousin. I'll sue him and he’ll answer for the damages and fines in case you failed to bring me back in good shape.” You both let out a hefty chuckle earning glares from your best friend and her boyfriend. You’ve decided to pursue your spontaneous trip with Mark and the next thing you know you’re already closing the front door upon your exit even before the two of them could react to your great and grand escape.

  ----

  He took you on a ride away from the busy and bustling streets of Seoul. You're thrilled to find out that he actually brought you to Namsan Tower, the highest peak in the city. You're awed expression cannot suffice the picturesque panoramic scenery of Seoul unfolding in front of your very eyes when you entered the observatory on the top most floor. You were unable to talk all of a sudden and your heart is brimming with unexplained strings of emotion as you kept on taking pictures and videos of the breathtaking place that sent your eyes into a food coma.

 "I only went to N tower once, or maybe twice but that was during the day and I have no idea that this is how it looks at night. It's a miss, nobody will be able to witness this scene on a Christmas eve the way we're seeing it right now." You forgot about your shameful episodes of last night's happenings and your worries disappeared in just an instant.

 "I kind of paid for tonight's reservation when I arrived here in Korea a week ago, with the hopes of spending Christmas only to myself. Consider yourself lucky, you've managed to join me on this one-time event. Heck, the price I paid for is totally worth it. Come here and try this." He urged you to look on the telescope, and to your surprise, you're taking in every aspect of the city in a bird's eye perspective. Everything you look at is really stunning. Like you never really imagined that perfection exists for real until tonight and you're experiencing it with a random guy whom you've only met an hour ago. Your eyes met his and you wished you aren't redder than a rotten tomato for looking like a lost deer caught on a headlight.

 "The view here is really pretty.” He gave you a smile, too charming for your own consumption.

“It really is.” He’s even prettier than the view. You can only sense your guy-o-meter raising for Mark. Good lord, is this a sign? Your mind is now ready to tick the ideal guy boxes on your list.

 “We shouldn't keep this New York style pizza from waiting while it is hot.” He chuckled, like the cute kid that he is. There is something with his unique laugh that you really don’t mind hearing at all. Is he older than me? Please, I don’t want to date someone younger than me.

 “Okay, sure kid.” You followed him as he sat on the ground in a dimly lit room radiating a romantic atmosphere under the starry and chilly skies of Seoul. This is not a date, but a friendly escape out of boredom planned by two single hearts on a Christmas eve. As if you’re two partners in crime, sitting on one of the highest skyscrapers in town, while sharing a box of pizza. It’s just that you aren’t Bonnie and neither he is your Clyde but you're loving the idea of him as someone whom you can rely on.

 “I’m older than you, silly.” The sight of a wine bottle behind him caught your attention and wondered where it came from. He noticed you eyeing the prize so he did the honor and poured you a glass of wine while you’re devouring your slice of pizza. You never imagined that eating pizza is too romantic and one for the books.

 “Any proof that you’re actually above 25? Cause you really look young. With that face, you can qualify for a student discount on public transports and still save money for your commute.” You want to make sure that he’s at least 5 years older than you. You prefer dating someone older than you because they always say that a guy's maturity is a year delayed for his age.

 “Trust me, I just know. I’m old enough to buy a house and enter into casinos, I guess.” He gave you a wink and you felt a gush of strong wind blew your senses away. He’s totally a Romeo and you took a swig of wine while observing him secretly.

 “So you’re a gambler? I might have been spending my time with some kind of a mafia leader and still have no clue about it.” He’s laughing at it again. I might have a talent with making cute guys laugh and that’s an asset I only discovered right now.

 “What, no! But my dad is a big spender in casinos. My duty is to look out for him and take him home before he could even bet our fortune with his leisure. I could always hear him say ‘It has gotta be all or nothing’. He’s born for taking risks and maybe I got that gene from him that’s why.” He stretched his legs and sat like he’s on a photoshoot. He’s not a model but he can beat the professional ones even without the need for screening.

 “What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken in your life so far?” You folded your legs as you watch him wonder with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He poured a glass for himself and you noticed that he used the same glass that you drink on.

 “I believe we’re taking risks everyday in our lives. The only difference is the distance of our leap towards taking or not taking chances at all. Like when you’re playing a game, everything starts with equal opportunities. It’s a race to the witch mountain. The first one to gamble takes it all. You gotta be the predator of every tournament and you gotta be the last one standing in a survival of the fittest. If you’re brave enough to take the earliest start, you can use that advantage to ace your end game. It’s all about timing and investing. Win or lose streak. There is no such thing as a grey area when it comes to taking risks. You don’t get to tie with anybody. Either you’ll win or lose. You just have to trust your instincts and roll your dice like everyday is your last day on earth. If I go for something, I go all in. No half-baked decisions. Because my father taught me that risks equates to rewards and I’m all up for the extremes of both worlds. That’s the one thing I’m best at. I know how to play the game nice and fair because I know how to measure the corners of a square and even the distance around the circle which is not visible to the naked eye. After all, he considers me as his lucky charm. That explains my presence to his endless casino nights. And he hardly ever loses if I’m with him. Sure, Pops are probably waiting for me at our doorstep in LA right now. Too bad, his son is on the other side of the world, taking his own risk of a lifetime.” You left with no words to say. He’s too deep, a food for the soul. Guys like him are the ones that can be displayed in museums. He’s a delicate art and nobody should be allowed to touch him but the curator. And you’d want to take that role.

 “What if you lose? If you go all in and you lose everything all at once? Have you experienced it already?” you asked, admiring the tiny mole sitting under his left eye. You decided to take your second glass of wine.

 “The best thing about losing is that you’ve tried. I don’t take failures as an excuse for not trying again and taking another risk the next day. If I lose, so what? That only means you’re brave because you grow stronger with every fall that you take. Like a bamboo tree, it only bends but it doesn’t break. Life is all about swimming against the current of uncertainties and finding yourself floating on top of your insecurities.” As if he’s summarizing all the lessons in life, you’d always want to go for the front seat. He’s a walking self-help book, and maybe Mark Manson’s book of ‘the subtle art of not giving a fuck’ would have to sit longer in my shelf for the meantime. I got a risk-taker author Mark, right here and I got nothing to worry about.

[orange-waterfalls]

Then Leave

Yancy x gender neutral!reader

@spycii ty for the prompt!

A/N: holy shit this took so long lol. I suck at writing angst unless it's with my own characters,,, this is so very bad I'm sorry,,, also Yancy has anger issues apparently. Rated T for some cursing. Angst(?) w/fluff at the end. I'm sorry I can't write straight angst it's too much for me.

Word Count: 2k

---

Yancy was elated when you decided to stay with him. He'd been pretty interested in you since you showed up, and didn't want you going and breaking out. When you told him you were staying, he was happier than he had any right to be. Yes! He got to spend more time with yous! That's amazing!

The first few weeks were great. You two loved talking and hanging out. Yancy could sense the others were a bit jealous of you, but he really didn't care much. You were all he really needed. After about two months, he noticed you distancing yourself. You were keeping a space between you and him when you hung out, and not talking as much. Half a year had passed and you just stopped. You stopped talking, stopped actively hanging out with him, stopped acknowledging him. He was disappointed, to say the least. The other inmates started to be around him more, but he didn't pay any attention to them. He thought of different ways to get you back. He convinced one of the cooks to bake you a cake for your birthday. You seemed to appreciate the effort and started talking to him again. You talked to him about how you missed your family, and Yancy tried to convince you to not care about it.

"C'mon, yous has a new family! We're your family!" He consoled. "Yous needs to leave the past in the past." You smiled at him appreciatively. He loved it when you smiled. So when you stopped smiling altogether, he got worried. He told you about his worries, and you told him you were fine. He didn't believe you. To sell the fact that you were fine, you forced yourself to smile more often. He'd tell you a joke to make you feel better, and you'd smile at him. But he could tell it wasn't a real smile. It was a smile to make him feel better.

It didn't, really.

But he pretended like it did so you didn't have to worry.

You two would always meet out in the yard at the same time every day, but one day, you hadn't shown up. Yancy waited in you guys' spot for half an hour before thinking to look somewhere else. He started to go back inside when Bambam stopped him.

"Hi, Yancy!" He greeted happily. "How've you been?" Yancy smiled at him, slightly aggravated, not wanting to show it.

"Hey, Bambam. I've been alright," he answered. Bambam looked around.

"So, where's the new family member?" he asked. The fact that Bambam was stopping him from finding exactly who he was talking about angered Yancy. He knew you wouldn't want him to snap at his family, so he kept it to himself.

"That's what I was hoping to find out. They's been… upset lately…" he explained. Bambam frowned.

"Oh. What do you think the problem is?" He asked worried.

"I'm not sure…" Yancy sighed, "they's… talked about missing their family…" Bambam scratched his neck.

"You know, Yancy, they seemed pretty attached to their family… maybe it'd be better for them if they left…" he suggested. Yancy clenched his fists.

"No, it wouldn't. They like it here. They don't want to leave," he growled. Bambam stepped back at his violent tone, and Yancy walked past him and into the prison.

He wandered the halls, looking for you. You weren't in any of the places you two hung out. Finally, he checked your cell, where you've said you don't like going. You were there on the bed, curled up on your side in a fetal position. He sighed in relief and opened the door. You flinched as you heard the door creak. He walks into the cell quietly.

"There yous is! I was starting to get worried you'd taken parole." He joked. You didn't respond or even acknowledge he'd walked in. He stood there for a minute, not knowing what to do. Eventually he sighed.

"Ok, can yous just… tell me what's wrong? I've been worried about yous and… I'm not sure what to do about it… tell me?" You don't respond. "Please?" You sighed.

"I miss Mark." You said bluntly. Yancy stood there, not really knowing how to respond.

"Mark? Didn't he… you know… die? Or did he just… take parole? There's really nothing I can-"

"I miss Mark, I miss my friends, I miss my family…" you said, voice wavering. Yancy knits his eyebrows, not understanding what you want.

"So? I don't know what you want to-"

"I want to leave, Yancy." You finally turned to look at him and he saw your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He frowned at you.

"Leave? But… you decided to stay!" He started to get angry. "Why would you want to leave?!" You stood up.

"Because I miss the people in my life Yancy!" You raised your voice at him.

"Then why did you stay?! Why haven't you broken out or taken parole or… or…" he was cut off by you.

"Because I'm in love with you, you fucking moron!" You yelled. He steps back at your accusing tone. In love… with him? That made him happy, but the tears flowing from your eyes destroyed that feeling and replaced it with guilt. "You love it here. You love your family. And I love you and I want you to be happy. So I stayed." You explain. "I had a family! I had people who loved me and now they don't even visit me! I am not happy! I haven't been happy in awhile! I want to leave!" Yancy stopped thinking clearly and blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Then leave! Just fucking go, then!" He said, his voice venomous. You stare at him and compose yourself.

"Maybe I will."

And you did.

You broke out of the prison after two days. All the inmates were happy that you'd be with your people again, but they saw something was different with Yancy. He was more distant. More angry. He snapped at them a lot and made rude comments. Tiny decided that she was going to confront him about it. He had no right to do this to them. She was gonna march into his cell and give him a piece of her mind. That's what she'd do.

She walked into his cell and…

He was there. On his bed. Sobbing into his hands. She could see the tears seeping through his fingers.

And all her plans were flung out the window.

She tiptoed over and gently sat next to him. He flinched before turning away, wiping his face.

"What do you want?" He asked, attempting to sound tough. He just sounded sad. Tiny put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, looking at her hand weirdly. She sighed.

"What's the problem, Yancy?" She asked gently. He tried to glare at her, but his lip started quivering and he let out a sob, burying his face into his hands again. Tiny patted his back in an attempt to make him feel better.

"I miss them… I miss them so much…" he cried. Tiny frowned and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yancy..." She began. She was going to try to convince him to get over you. But before she could, he just went on rambling on and on about everything he loved and missed about you. Your skin, your eyes, your smile…

She could tell this wasn't going away anytime soon.

"Yancy…" She sighed. "You need to make parole." Yancy looked up at her.

"W-What?"

"You need to be good. You need to not be seen as a threat anymore. You need to leave."

"But-"

"You love them. There's nothing you can do about that, except be with them."

"Tiny… I've done-"

"Yeah, yeah, bad things. You killed people. Yancy, I'll be honest, none of us really care about that. You're the only one. We think you deserve to be happy, and if being with them is how that's gonna happen, then so be it," She explained. Yancy was about to argue, but he thought about your face when he told you to leave, and he closed his mouth.

"Ok…"

He turned into the perfect prisoner. He did everything he was told, he didn't speak out of line, he worked as a cook in the cafeteria, he got rid of his shank. He eventually made parole. That was great, but he wasn't exactly sure where to go from there. How was he supposed to find you? He was on his way out when he saw the guy you came in with. What was his name… Mark? You had mentioned that you were roommates, so he figured this was his best chance. Yancy walked up to him and tapped his shoulder. He turned towards him, startled.

"Uh… hi? Can I help you?" He asked.

"Where do you live?"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry… I'm Yancy. I want to find your friend and… I figure… you would know where they live… since you live together…" he explained awkwardly. Mark stared at him for a moment.

"Why do you want to find them?" He asked, suspicious. Yancy blushed a bit and scratched his neck. Mark rolled his eyes before taking a piece of paper and writing an address on it. He handed Yancy the piece of paper.

"Knock when you get there." He explained. "You don't look like a serial killer… this may be a bad idea but… I suppose I can trust Y/N to take care of themselves. Besides, this year's already been weird as hell... I'm sure it'll be fine." Yancy nodded and thanked him. He asked his parole officer to take him to the address. On the ride there, he bounced his leg, anxious for what you'd say. Would you forgive him? Would you still be mad? Would you hate him? He'd deserve it…

"Here." The officer said as they parked near a house. Yancy nodded and got out of the car, approaching the house. He stopped at the door and raised his fist to knock. He stopped, suddenly realizing that he'd rather not have you tell him he wasn't worth a visit every three weeks. He slowly lowered his arm to his side and sighed. He turned back towards the cop car and-

click

"Yancy?"

creak

Yancy spun back around to look at the door, where you were standing. You looked… better than in the prison. Less tired. Less sad.

"Hey! How's it going?" He asked nervously. You weren't smiling, you weren't asking a bunch of questions about him, you didn't seem very interested in him or what he was doing there. That made him nervous. He shifted in his spot. You both were silent for a moment. You crossed your arms and took a breath.

"I thought… I thought you liked prison, Yance." He smiled at the nickname.

"Oh, uh… I…" he swallowed, his throat dry. "I-I like yous a little more than I do prison…" you stared at him. He shuffled his feet. You sighed.

"Yancy…"

"Ok, look. I know I messed up. I know. But I want to make it right, and I want to be with yous." You raised an eyebrow.

"Be with me… as in…?"

"Dating. Yes." He said quickly. You tap your arm.

"Yancy… I don't…" you start. He can feel his heart shattering already. "You're the one who told me to leave the past in the past… that's what I was doing with the prison." You explained.

"Well… maybe… since I'm in yous' present… I can be part of your future!"

"What?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Yancy…" you started. He looked at you hopefully. You sighed. "I'll… think about it."

"Oh… right, sure…"

"You have a place to stay, right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm good."

"Ok, good."

"Yeah… well…bye" he turned back towards the police car and started walking. You stood at the doorway, watching him. You bit your lip before taking a breath.

"Yancy!" You called. He spun back towards you. You grin slightly. "Let's get coffee sometime." His eyes widened.

"O-Okay! Sure!" He agreed. You closed your door. He got back into the police car, smiling widely.

"So…" the officer started. Yancy turned to him.

"Hm?"

"That was the most Hallmark thing I've ever seen…"

"Shut up…"

"Seriously! That looked so cliche!"

"SHUT. UP."

"I thought I was about to hear some romantic violin,"

"Please just drive…"

GOD this SUCKS I'm so sorry