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poptod · 3 years

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 4 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: He needs to listen. He needs to understand.

Notes: i havent been able to write recently bc ive been spending a lot of time with my boytoy but hes off being a firefighter rn so ive just been nonstop writing and drawing. its ridiculous. i finished pt 3 and 4 in like three days. WC: 5.5k

There were less paintings in Thebes. White marble walls and pillars reigned supreme, a stark contrast from the colorful streets of Memphis. You decided not to bring it up, or at least not at the moment you realized it, as in that moment you were face to face with the mayor of Thebes. He was shaking Ahkmenrah's hand, a polite smile on his lips.

"It's good to see you again, Piye," Ahk said. You had to stop and go over the sentence again to make sure you heard it right. Piye wasn't on the same boat as yours, and wouldn't arrive for another day.

"As it is you, my King," the mayor replied.

A trail of servants, soldiers, and slaves passed both behind and in front of you, lugging the offerings to specific temples, and the royal belongings behind the Pharaoh. Haji was put to the use, as unfortunate as it was, and you couldn't help but apologize when he was asked to haul a massive reed basket full of dried dates.

"It's alright," he said, huffing with effort. "I've done this before. Not usually uphill, though."

"Sorry," you said again, wincing at the way sweat beaded on his forehead.

The massive block of shade casted by the royal house's overhang was a relief for those carrying items, and for Ahk as well, as this was his home-away-from-home. Images of Ahkmenrah remained painted across the walls, the only color in the crystal city. The Nile flowed steadily beside the house, short fences leading to a plentiful garden through which the water came, and date trees that grew taller than any building.

The mayor, who you slowly realized was also named Piye, left your group there with a bid for a good evening. Along with that, he invited the Pharaoh and you––his pet––to dinner with him and his family. You weren't sure how enjoyable that would be, but either way the decision was out of your hands.

Following Ahkmenrah, you found yourselves in a large room with a domed ceiling, tall arches framed by red curtains. Outside, trees rustled in the gentle wind with no hint of society. You silently cheered––it was better, you believed, to have a view of the land, rather than of the city.

"Tomorrow I shall take you on a true tour of the city," Ahk said, coming up behind you till his breath fell sudden on your shoulder. You jumped slightly, but arms around your waist stilled you, pulling you into an unfortunately familiar warmth. "How does that sound?"

You said nothing, staring into the silent night.

"We can go through the markets," he suggested, shifting so he held you tighter. "If you want for anything, I will give it to you. I'm sure you've gone through many markets unable to afford anything, so now's a chance to make up for some of that."

"... thank you," you said, very nearly whispered, as hesitance seized you fiercely. Giving into his words––you said you'd never do that. He was not threatening you in any way, so why would you try to please him?

"Are you tired yet?" He asked.

"Not especially," you said, voice still strained.

"How does a game of Senet sound, then?"

"I've... never heard of it," you said honestly, glancing to the side as your fingers fiddled with each other.

"Really? I think you'll quite like it. It's a game of wits and chance. Are you interested?"

You paused before saying, "sure."

He grinned, leaving you alone in the moonlit room as he raced to the servants bringing in his personal belongings. While you waited, you stared out the massive, pale arches, bright as the moon in the perfectly clear sky. Barely a breeze passed by, leaving the warm, humid climate to cling to your skin, slowing your breath as peace reached you. Thebes was nice––just not the city. The countryside was beautiful, and Ahkmenrah's home here was beautiful.

It was not hard for a room to be better than your previous room, tied up in the middle of inescapable stone walls, still you took special care to appreciate the freedom here. Yes, there was a large drop between the pristine upper floor and the ground, but that hardly mattered to you. By your reckoning, you could milk Ahkmenrah's affection for you. If he truly would not let you go, you might as well make the most of it, and earn whatever you longed for in your poorer life.

Steps echoing in the empty hall grew closer, leading to the creaking hinges of the large, wooden doors behind you. You turned, coming to see the Pharaoh grinning like a dope, entirely uncharacteristic for his royal attire.

"I brought my board from home, but I've got one here as well. Made of crystal and ivory, actually, but I don't like it as much as my wooden one," he said, rambling as he set the board down on the carpeted floor.

The board was presented as a tiny, rectangular table with black and red squares for the pieces to move on. Dark wood legs held up the board, within which was contained a drawer filled with the pieces, numbering two pairs of five. One style was a long pillar with a head on top, and the other was a round-base pyramid.

Over the course of the next couple minutes, Ahkmenrah explained the rules to you, how the pieces moved forward, and that whoever got all their pieces off first won. The basics were gone over, but you soon started without much knowledge on how to play. He taught as you went along, and soon you were truly playing, concentrated deeply on your strategy and how to win. There were a few different tactics you could try to slow down Ahk or speed yourself up, but as you grew engrossed in the game, you hardly noticed the smile spreading across the Pharaoh's face.

"You might actually beat me," he said as you took another one of his pieces, sending it back five paces.

"What, you didn't think I was smart enough at first?" You said with an almost sly grin.

"No, I – actually," he paused, "yes. Sorry. I might've underestimated you."

"Don't worry," you said, handing the dice to him. "You're not the first."

"Really?"

"I ran into this stand at one point. It was a man who took your coin and hid it under one of three cups, switched them all up, and asked you where the coins were. If you got it right, you were paid in double, and if you got it wrong, he took your money."

"Basic deal."

"Yes. I came as a young child, a stranger to the city. He thought I'd be easy prey, so he did his trick, but I noticed he was dropping the coins off the edge of the table and into his lap. So I pick-pocketed him for all the money he took from people."

"That... doesn't sound like he underestimated your smarts so much as underestimating your conniving."

"Perhaps so," you said, moving another one of your pieces to steal one of his, sending it back by three. "But for me, the two go hand in hand."

"I can see," he chuckled, his blush visible even in the moonlight.

After a long time spent finishing the game, as the last move off the board had to be an exact number, you won mostly by chance. Still you cheered, grinning satisfied as Ahk held his head low in failure. He chuckled though, his shoulders shaking with the silent laughter, bringing you great gratification.

"Where did you learn these tactics?"

"Ever been to Nubia?"

"A couple times," he said, looking to the side as he attempted to recall it. "My father was rather cruel to them, so I try not to visit too much. They don't really like the royal family."

"Understandably so," you said with crossed arms, watching him deftly pick up the pieces and cram them back in the drawer. "They memorized your father's military movements, and I assumed you learned your own tactics from him. Applying that to the fact that you're more passive aggressive than actually aggressive, I decided you'd probably be more on defensive, creating strong barriers instead of stealing my pieces."

"... Wow."

"You're also less likely to overcome my pieces because you're trying to gain my favor."

"Okay, I don't need an in depth analysis of my childhood and psyche," he said, holding his hand up but still laughing.

"You asked," you reminded him.

"I did. And I'd like to hear more, when I'm conscious enough to actually understand it," he said as he set away the board. He returned quickly to you, pulling you into a tight hug, before promptly releasing you with a kiss to your neck.

"Tired?"

"Mhm," he hummed, hand trailing down to tangle in yours.

Once affirmed of your presence, he led you along the barren, white floor, your reflections standing beneath you with chests pressed together. The plush of linen sheets and pillows caught you when he pushed you, and soon your body was cradled by the bed and overshadowed by the Pharaoh above you. Crownless, barren of cape or gold, and caught enraptured in your eyes.

As he loomed above you, seemingly caught in his adoration for you, you noted with much confusion that you were breathing normally. Your heart raced horribly in your chest, that still remained a constant sickness. Yet your muscles relaxed, sleepiness seeping into your bones, hypnotized by his loving gaze.

"You're cute," he said with a sudden, wide smile. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you put your hands on his face, pushing him away. He just laughed, falling over onto his back.

"Go to sleep," you told him, lying down on your side.

"Very well. But in the morning," he leaned over your turned shoulder, kissing your cheek, "be ready to be out in public with me."

His arms once more wrapped tight around your middle, tugging you into his heat as he tucked you under his chin. You had several questions, both concerning his statement and other things, but you decided to wait until tomorrow. Tears were budding in your eyes from your incessant yawning, and sleep was a blink away.

You dreamed of a lake that night––laced with lily pads, blue and purple petals sprouting from green buds. Inside each pocket full of pollen, a sun glowed and illuminated your searching fingers. A black stone sky towered above you, dark and cold with wind, creating a deep contrast between it and the warm water.

You awoke to a different stone sky, shaped in the same dome. This one was made of white quartz, carved delicately, and lit by the strength of the sun. Recognition came to you instantaneously, and you recalled the trip to Thebes and the game from the night before. The only difference was the absence of heat, of pressure on your waist, breath on your neck. Sitting up, you realized you were alone in the room. How rare a chance––unsupervised, with massive windows beside you that you could easily climb out of.

Before you could even think of how to act in the presence of such opportunity, the doors slowly opened, revealing Ahk with a tray in his hand. You furrowed your brow. Couldn't he have asked one of his servants to get that? Or in the very least, open the door for him.

"I have never claimed to be a chef. I want you to know that before you eat this," he said, which was a very alarming thing to be told before being presented a meal.

"Ummm..."

"That sounded bad. Let me restart. I am not a very good cook, but I did what I could."

"Why can't the chefs cook?"

"I'm not asking anyone to work during the Opet festival," he said with a frown, before calling out, "Naguib?!"

"Yeah?" He called back, footsteps soon nearing.

"What about him?" You asked.

"Oh, he's not here for work," Ahk said in a bright tone, looking over his shoulder to see Naguib entering the room.

"I'm just here to make sure he doesn't burn down the house," Naguib chuckled, leaning on the door frame.

"Yes, and thank you for that. Come here," Ahk said, motioning the servant either. He dutifully obeyed, and Ahk pulled out a small pouch, handing it to him. "Have fun."

"Thank you, sir," Naguib said, bowing to the King before ducking out.

"Funny little man, that," Ahk said once he was sure Naguib was out of sight.

"How so?" You asked, mildly amused at their antics.

"He's the only one who can switch readily between free time and work time. Not many people have that switch, you know," he said, turning back to you.

"Do you?"

"I like to think so. What do you think?" He raised himself to tower above you, his expression suddenly falling into a shadowed cold. "Can I put on the face of a King?"

That cocky bastard knew the answer perfectly well. A man so aware of his own emotions, of the way he carried himself, would obviously know about this aspect of himself. Many go their whole lives without ever cracking into who they truly are; but not the Pharaoh. He knew every crevice of himself, and he used it to his advantage. Every weakness hidden. Every strength glorified.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, a cocky smirk on his face as you emerged from your thoughts.

You frowned.

"Oh, don't pout now, pet," he cooed as his finger trailed down the side of your face. "Let's see how breakfast turned out, hmm?"

He soothed and gained your vice attention at once with that little motion, that little motion he'd used a number of times before. Like himself, he had taken it upon himself to know you, to understand why you reacted in certain ways just as much as how you reacted. His expression gave little of that information away, so instead you turned to the tray and scanned its' contents.

You first noticed the wooden bowl of dates, set off in the corner of the platter beside two slats of seared meat. In the middle of it all was the largest plate, upon which he had placed an array of stirfry vegetables, garnished with an anise flower. Two cups were set to the side, filled with a faintly yellow tea. You reached for that first, as you had no idea what it was, and curiosity was always your main concern.

"What is this?" You asked, scanning the drink thoroughly.

"Blue lotus tea. Couldn't find any stores of beer, and I wanted to show you the flower. It's quite helpful in a number of things, medicinally... and recreationally," he said, biting at his bottom lip as he took the other glass.

"So... a drug," you said, raising a single brow.

"You could say that," he said as he took a sip, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Why don't I trust you?"

"Because I'm untrustworthy," he said, winking.

In the end you did end up drinking the tea, and the honey stirred within the warm water had you finishing the entire cup. Along with that, the two of you ate the various dishes Ahk had made with the help of Naguib, finding most of them––in the very least––edible. The meat was definitely burnt, and the stirfry was a little heavy on the anise. Overall, not bad––you probably shouldn’t expect more than that from a Pharaoh who had been handfed all his life.

He dressed himself once all was said and done concerning breakfast, twirling in the mirror to scan every inch of his outfit. There was no effort within it to conceal his identity as Pharaoh––in fact, it was enlarged, prominent and obvious on every golden brace and silk thread imbued within it. A regal, tall crown made of gold and bearing a poised cobra ended it all off, concealing the soft brown curls atop his head.

A few questions remained on the tip of your tongue, waiting for your brain to decide it was the right time to ask. After a little while of holding back, you decided that the 'right' moment would never come, and asked your question forthwith.

"Why are we here again?" You asked, thoughtlessly rubbing the sheets between your thumb and forefinger.

"The Opet festival," he answered, preening his cape. "It's an event that celebrates the strength of the Pharaoh. It'll be my first... since my father gave up the throne. We pray and make offerings to Amun, and the commonfolk are welcomed to ask their own prayers upon Amun's statue. Perhaps you've noticed it?"

Ah. That would explain the 11 foot tall statue made of gold.

"We'll be celebrating wealth for a little while, but in a week we take the barge to Luxor, where we shall enter the temple of Amun, and hopefully converse with the Gods. Amun, specifically."

"Yeah, I gathered that much. So all that food... it's offerings for this God?"

"Some of it, yes. Everyone brings their own offerings, and as I am a man of plenty, I brought plenty of offerings. It is also our duty as the government and protector of the people to replenish my citizens' energy, and so much of that food is actually for those who travel days and weeks to pray at Amun's feet. You, and the worshippers of Amun, will be well-looked after," he said, taking your hands softly in his and coercing you to your feet.

"Is that how it's always been?"

"As long as I remember. It wavers with cruel leaders... but never really vanishes. Our magic is as important as night and day, essential as fruitful trees, and as entwined with our lives as water. It is hard to break the worship engrained in generations."

While he spoke, he began to undress you, pulling at the buttons and knots until the fabric fell from you. Off your shoulders, off your hips, down your arms, until the white linen pooled on the marble floor. Soon you stood naked before him, but he kept his eyes on yours. Never strayed from your given attention.

"I know you don't adhere to our religion. I want you to know I don't mind. I would not force you into anything, especially not something as controversially widespread as religion," he said, cocking his chin upwards with a smile.

He took your hand again and led you out of the room. Chill breeze brushed by your naked stomach, sending shivers down the sensitive skin so readily bared. Once you reached the main entrance room, he let go of your hand, kneeling to dig into one of the massive bags packed before the trip. Most of them had been dumped in the front room, as the servants and soldiers were tired and ready for sleep the night before.

You attempted to look over his shoulder, an endeavor that was fruitless as it was needless. Soon he found what he was looking for, and he turned to you, presenting it in his open arms.

"Your clothes. From before. I had them washed and packed," he said, handing them to you.

Everything was there. Your long, red vest coat, your skirt with the panel tied into the waist, your buttoned shirt with the collar raised high onto your neck. Things you didn't genuinely expect to see again, and certainly not in the same shape as before.

"Thank you," you murmured, brow furrowed as you flipped through the layers. Without haste you pulled on the skirt, settling into your stolen shirt and the long coat over it. The only thing missing was your weapon––a staff with two spikes hammered into the end. Not the greatest weapon, but it served you well.

"New places can make me nervous, and personally it helps when I have something familiar with me. So I understand why you wanted them back."

"Yes, it's... good to be back in my clothes. Your style is a little much for me," you confessed, remembering the dress with no coverage of your chest except the straps holding the skirt up. A skirt that was see through.

"That's alright. I'm confused by yours as well."

If you were told anything by the various Egyptians you'd met in your travels, it was that Egypt was hot. Always sunny. Always humid. As you looked upwards, wide eyes meeting the grey sky, you nearly jumped. It had been a while since you'd seen a fully overcast sky, where clouds blocked out the sun and the horizons.

"Hmm," Ahk hummed as the two of you left the tiny palace, his hand encasing yours.

"Is it usually like this here?" You asked, looking up to Ahk. To your surprise, you had to squint, the sun still shining bright, white light through the fog.

"No," he said, beginning to walk down the steps, and taking you with. "Actually, it's usually a tad warmer than Memphis. No problem. I'm sure it'll clear out before the ceremony. We've got a week, after all."

He took you into the unfamiliar streets, through graffitied walls until stone turned to marble, great pillars surrounding a massive circle market. Stalls of various types spiraled down into the middle, where a towering obelisk overlooked all trade. Indecipherable hieroglyphs lined each side, though the base of the black stone remained invisible, hidden behind wooden stalls.

Once you entered the center, you noted brick beneath your feet, black stones running into a spiral in the midst of the white bricks. If you followed the path of the black stones, you would find yourself in the center of the market. As tantalizing as that exploration sounded, your hand was firmly set in Ahk's palm, and he had different plans.

You must've passed by a dozen carts before he finally stopped, halting you before a wooden stand showcasing a number of scarves. Each held a sheerness so intricate that you could see straight through it. The seller noticed your amazement, an amazement that had to be common, as he knew exactly what had caught your attention.

"These are made out of silk from China. Wonderful seamstresses they have, there. So thin you may draw the whole shawl through a common ring," the seller said, thumbing through a couple before pulling a blood red scarf out from beneath the stack.

He pulled a ring off his finger, and with great care, threaded the whole scarf through it. Before you could even react to the performance, Ahk was pulling a handful of coins out of his purse and setting them on the counter. The seller grinned, thanked him for the purchase, and just like that the interaction was complete. Ahk took your hand once more and led you away, continuing through the outer ring of the market.

"Beautiful color, isn't it?" He said, watching the way it wrinkled and fell in his hand. You made to nod, but paused as his arms drew over your head, placing the scarf over your shoulders.

"This is yours," you tried to say, but he shushed you, tutting sweetly.

"It's yours. And it looks fantastic on you," he said with a smile, pulling your entwined hands to his lips, where he kissed the back of your hand.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying your best not to say anything. That's how this day would go––he would buy you anything you looked at, flaunt his wealth in your face, utterly spoiling you in front of a whole city. Already your face felt as though it were aflame, nervous eyes set fiercely on the ground in front of you.

Along the way, Ahk stopped at a few jewelry carts, where he bought you an array of golden bracelets, faience necklaces, and ivory rings. It wasn't long till there was barely any room left for new gifts, though you suspected that was his plan.

"Here," he said, pausing your stride with a hand on your chest. "One of my friends here in Thebes runs a bakery. He makes the best tiger rolls I've ever had."

Must be good considering how much of them he's had, you thought dully. As usual, you kept your thought to yourself, and followed Ahk inside without complaint.

You were no longer scared of Ahk, you realized, watching him greet his friend with a gusto you rarely ever saw. He was just... irritating. Annoyingly sweet, painfully perceptive, and desperate to earn your favor. The things he dragged you along to do with him were the worst––markets too crowded for your tastes, too rich and uptight for your liking, or boats that you clearly stated you were uncomfortable being on.

The only good part was that outside, he didn't pay as much attention to you. While sitting around in the palace, his hands wandered you constantly, eyes set unmoving upon your body. He memorized those curves, the dips, the intricate veins, and the way you moved in those long hours. Outside, he was preoccupied with other stimulus and left you mostly alone.

Bitterness settled on your tongue. Your old routine was entirely lost, cast to the wind by the Pharaoh's greedy hands. The routine you loved, that kept you sane, and more importantly, kept you moving.

"Do you want anything, Amoke?" Ahk asked, leaning in to speak more intimately. You, of course, shied away, but was mostly stopped by Ahk's hand on your upper arm.

"Um... no. I'm not very hungry," you mumbled, and though he paused to glare suspiciously at you, he relented.

"Alright," he said, kissing your forehead before rushing back to the counter.

With a bag of tiger rolls in hand you left, Ahk continuing to pull you along just as before. This time he did take you down the spiral, and as you passed each stall, you realized it was a conglomeration of different cultures; an amalgamation of the western world. Art from Mali caught your eye. You had gone through there a few times, and the style of their statues had always intrigued you.

The Pharaoh noted your interest, and paused to take you there. He let you decide what you wanted, payed for it in full, and complimented your taste.

"You have a good eye," he had said, "for the divine."

"The divine?" you repeated, looking down at the statue. The form of a plush woman lay in your hands, smooth stone showcasing wide hips, large breasts, and a tiny head.

"A woman, a mortal who creates life, is as close to Gods as we will ever be," he said, looking over your shoulder to scan the figure as well.

The crowd had yet to notice the golden fabric of a Pharaoh, but the singular citizens who did notice were shellshocked, and hadn't the right mind to react at all. Dumbfoundedness gave way the closer you got to the center of the market, and by the time the black pyre casted you entirely in shadow, people were bowing at the King's feet, murmuring astounded praise as he passed by.

You looked up to gauge Ahk's mindset, finding something that terrified you more than it should have; he was smiling. Self-satisfied, pride puffing out his chest, silently declaring their praise to be a necessity.

A man intoxicated by his own fumes is dangerous––you knew that all too well, and fear began to seep back into your image of him, sending mold that tore down your irritation and replaced it with nauseous anxiety. His hand holding yours was now an anchor that sank you into a bottomless sea, instead of the earlier annoyance.

The combination of your own growing panic and the increasingly loud and desperate voices of the crowd sent you into overdrive. Hands reached up from bowed heads to touch the face of Ahkmenrah, to feel his grace and holiness overtake their bodies. Prayers surrounded you, and with the Pharaoh preoccupied, you fell to the ground and crawled out of the mass of the black land's people.

Once free from the writhing confines, you left the market sniffling, headed for somewhere lonelier. You hated to rely on others to heal you, but for a moment you longed for Haji. He had been kind to you. He would understand. Ahkmenrah didn't, and he never would––you swore this to yourself, your back sliding down the graffitied wall of someone's home.

Hiding your face in your hands, you pressed your knees to your chest, and curled up tight. No one would bother you; you looked like a homeless person, after all.

"Amoke?" Came a soft voice from above you.

You didn't move.

"Let's get home," Ahk murmured, his hands slowly moving up your arms till he gracefully pulled you to your feet.

Your eyes, once hidden and blurred, now opened to the grey light of today.

Ahk had no clothes on.

That was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was that he was smiling apologetically at you, nervous tics appearing as he chewed on his lip.

"Why are you naked?" You asked in a pathetically weak voice.

"Well, um... it was a little hard to leave the crowd, so I removed all my identifiers. They'll probably steal my clothes, so, um.. hopefully Naguib packed my other nice outfit," he said, beginning the walk back home. You followed quickly behind, still going over his bare skin.

"You could've left your underwear on, you know," you said.

"Oh." He paused. "The thought hadn't occurred to me."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted as you trudged up the little hill. By the time you reached the doors of the tiny palace, the silence had stretched uncomfortably between you, and you were eager to hide away.

Ahk pulled the door open for you and said, "I'm sorry, by the way," before following after you and shutting the door behind him. The click of metal echoed in the empty, marble house, bouncing off the bare walls.

"For what?" You asked, unable to face him as your voice cracked.

"Bringing you to the market while I'm all dressed up. I knew I would get a lot of attention, but I didn't know how it would affect you," he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your head into his chest to hug you.

For a moment you were comforted, until you very abruptly realized that he was still naked. At that point you wriggled out of his grasp, though your plan backfired a little, as the moment you drew away your eyes scanned the entirety of him, from his feet to his head, and he ardently noticed your interest. Your panic had absorbed you so entirely that you hardly felt your cheeks burning with a bright red blush.

"I'll... go put some clothes on," he said with a smile, shaking his head.

He left you alone in the big, empty drawing room, occupied by a vacant kitchen on the far side of the house, and three bags of luggage laid haphazardly in the middle. Your steps that took you deeper into the walls echoed around you, causing you to move slow and careful.

Eventually you explored the whole of the room, finding a small door to the right of the entrance, one that led into a long pathway. The chill wind snuck through the thick hedges as you padded down the stone walkway, lines of sand between the rocks sticking to the bottom of your feet. Through the thin walls, you glimpsed a sliver of a garden, the sight of a white fountain bringing the sound of rushing water to you.

The fountain, alabaster centerpiece of the small garden, flowed with crystal clear water that pooled on the ground in such depth that lilies had sprouted from the bottom. Green pads floated on the cool water, and the blue lotus flowers were all closed up in the sun's absence. The trail that had led you there continued within it, circling the fountain, and ultimately leading to a small, sandstone gazebo.

You sat on the gazebo's step, elbow on your knee as you leaned your cheek on the palm of your hand. Here the wind was not as harsh, only occasionally brushing against your hair, though the cold had yet to cease. It was a good explanation for the silent garden, barren of animal life. No, this was a haven of silence, of loneliness, and of plants. Beautiful, quiet plants.

As many things as there were on your mind, there was nothing truly in your head. Abstract ideas and emotions relating to your position, to your relationship with Ahkmenrah, to the tired nerves burnt out from your earlier panic.

"It's a bit cold," Ahk murmured in his low voice, placing a blanket over your hunched shoulders.

You whirled around to see Ahkmenrah standing above you, fully clothed. With a slight huff he sat down beside you, settling onto the hard step, his thigh pressed to yours.

"I hate my life," you mumbled, falling and landing on Ahk. You could feel the way he tensed, how his breath caught in his throat at the given contact.

"I –"

"And it's all your fault," you said, face still hidden in his shoulder.

"... I know."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

50 notes · View notes

jubberry · 3 years

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oohkay let's go tua with those ship asks: fiveya, horrance and alluther.

thanks el i love you

Send me a ship and I'll answer three questions based on if I ship it or not.

fiveya obvs i ship this since this is 90% of my tua drawings lol

1. ill wait ill wait (to be the one) by georgiestauffenberg made me ship it cause holy fuck dude. I dont know if i ship them romantically when i saw them onscreen cause first of all, age difference is kinda weird lmao. Second, they dont rlly interact much outside literally the first couple of eps. But he was so soft for her, and i felt like they had so much unexplored history.

so i looked at fanfics cause i was wondering if ppl still ship it, then i liked the description of this one so i gave it a go.

Basically the premise is that vanya dates a much older man who seems to know a lot about her. And it was amazingly in character and just provided their characters some depth that u wouldnt find outside of a romantic relationship between them. (The implication of five pining while she doesnt know who he is, their missed chances when he time travelled, fives missed chances of living and having a 'normal' life bec of his own hubris, vanyas insecurity and being able to open up bec shes with someone whos known her since childhood). Its so sweet and thats how i was like, oh yep i can do so much more with these two, and what has kept me interested in drawing them etc.

2. My favourite things are the shippers cause i made some friends in the fandom who are super cool and supportive! I dont get super involved in fandoms and usually just watch from afar so finding people to talk to and muck around with in this tiny fandom is super cool 😭

Though thats not to say I havent come across some bad apples in this fandom and things that I dont like. I think thats the importance of carving out a place for yourself and ur friends in fandom tho.

Another thing I like about the ship itself, i just like the grumpy person whos soft for one person trope. Its so cute. I like all the little clues in canon on how their relationship as kids is quite warm, which is interesting cause five is basically the star student and he can be quite cold vs vanya who is the black sheep of the family.

I also like how five likes her powers even when she caused the apocalypse he spent the majority of his life in lol. Like its a popular hc that five is just a wife guy and i love that.

I see vanya as the type who has a lot of love to give, and she sometimes has unrealistic expectations of what her partner can give. Betrayal and lies really angers her, but also when her partner cannot meet her expectations of love she gets very upset bec its also an indication of how shes not good enough, or not loveable enough to be able to have this in the relationship (her insecurity means every failing always comes back to her, even if its out of her control).

I feel like five would be a level-headed person enough in the relationship to not be afraid to say 'vanya ur being stupid' (ie. the s2 confrontation lmao). Also, five's personality means she will never have to doubt his actions bec she knows hes the type who will not give u the moment of the day if hes not interested.

Not to mention they also have the whole apocalypse vs. saviour, hero/villain thing. Theres just a lot to explore!

3. I probably have several. But mostly I dont mind five being a dick to vanya bec first, even if the appeal is hes soft to her hes already kind of a dick in canon lmao. Also, vanya isnt a child. Shes grown and she can handle petty af things like five telling her shes not good at cooking lol. I also dont mind it cause I feel like people are getting too afraid to write... conflict for fear or portraying an abusive relationship or smth. Like, chill. Conflict is fine, resolving it is how u get a story. However in saying that, nobody should be obligated to write any way unless you want to! Fanfic is for comfort so if what your doing is making u happy then its good enough!

horrance which i also ship but i love the platonic and romantic relationship equally:

1. I came in tua in general not shipping anything so Im honestly not sure. I do remember someone doing a meta before s2 came out that was basically how ben acted weird when klaus summoned dave in s1 that made me go 👀 Otherwise, tua s2 rlly made me like them cause tua FED horrance shippers. Like..... the fact that klaus didnt want ben to leave him, and ben knows thats why he stayed 😢 or the fact that klaus was all over him for some reason???? Somebody also mentioned gay ben once and I resonate with that deeply. Like i get that jill exists but i resonate with gay ben deeply.

2. I love their bickering, theyre so cute together. I just like ben being angry bec hes self aware that hes got both shit and amazing taste. Shit bec he cant believes he likes Klaus (and also amazing also bec Klaus). I think the idea of them being kind of underdogs, theyre not rlly leader types and dont want to be, helps them bond together even in platonic horrance. They're both down to earth, and even tho they can annoy each other, they also know if they want a space to feel comfortable its with each other. Theyre not pressured by rivalry over leadership, or any sort of competition.

I love the idea that even tho ben is like klaus's ''conscience'', hes also down for chaos and bitchy. I feel like klaus rlly enabled that side of him, its not exactly a good thing but its p funny lol

3. I know some people think their dynamic is unhealthy but i dont care lol

alluther. So id say i dont ship this, mostly due to the fact that im not invested? Just like all tua ships so far I rlly came out not wanting anything but platonic relationships cause I feel tua doesnt do romance very well. With alluther, theyre so cute but im not super invested in either of their chars so they havent stuck for me. I appreciate seeing them and talking about them tho, and I'm def open to exploring them further.

1. I think tua canon romances are just so lackluster 😔 Idk who writes the romances but I was just like 'nice' but afterwards I dont really think about them. I love their dance scene and the message behind it! Otherwise, theyre sweet like most of the tua romances but im not super invested, same with all the non canon ships.

2. I really feel like tua needs to decide on what their relationship is. Like, just say its incest or not and stick with it 👀 Or if you wanna support it or not, just make up ur mind. I think I would've liked it better if I found the characters more interesting. Allison especially I feel like suffers from the fact that tua just doesn't want to make her ''mean''. They want to make her supportive and are less interested in making her flawed (ie. she should've had a conflict with Vanya in s2, but the writers didnt want to write the girls fighting which is stupid imo and not what that conflict is about).

In regards to Alluther, the scene where Allison gets annoyed at Luther for sleeping with someone else felt out of line. Like, how are you marrying other people and moving on but Luther isn't allowed to? But honestly, I don't mind if they actually just acknowledge it and make it a deliberate part of Allison's trait that Allison can expect a certain loyalty automatically from other people (which can tie in to her childhood being a star, and the rumour).

Luther is a big simp for Allison, which is sweet, but at the same time it would be nice to have him explore himself for a bit, and who he is outside of the academy. Then maybe they can rekindle their relationship again as new people and see where they go from there.

3. I don't hate them, but they're ok. I'm not super invested in them, just like all the tua canon romance. But I wouldn't mind making content for them if I were a bit more invested in their characters. I love their dance scene in s1 and I feel like its super a underrated portrayal of what their relationship is meant to be. I know no one talks about it but it's just such a great scene, and I'm pretty sure the choreographer was into interpretive dance? The scene had a lot of meaning that I don't see people dig around with.

Essentially I'm pretty sure the fairy lights are obviously a throwback to their childhood together, spending time outside of Reggie. So the dance scene kind of symbolized that pocket of space they made for each other in their life (even if theyre far away, or with other people, they will always have that space for each other).

The way they danced was more like playfighting than dancing, which means their relationship isn't sensual. It's more ''pure'', and romantic. Its basically two kids rekindling their love as adults. I also think this is a response to the incest, cause in s1 tua klaus literally said that 'thank god Regg is not their real father' right before Allison and Luther meet lmao. So its kinda like saying Allison x Luther isnt supposed to be 'ohh step sibling hot' but two people who experienced the same trauma as kids and finding comfort with each other (and rekindling that love after many years).

#harcest #fiveya #horrance #i dont think this is anti alluther but i did say i dont ship it #cause im not invested in tua canon romances #i wont tag just in case #ask game #THIS GOT SO LONG

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currywaifu · 4 years

Text

title: unpleasant feelings ship: furuichi sakyo/reader rating: sfw wc: 1.2k words

an: I pushed back writing this because for someone like Sakyo, I wanted to portray jealousy realistically but dealt with in a non-toxic way… not my usual style + not actually that fluffy or sad, I just struggled to find a different tag.

Sakyo was no stranger to sin. Some he’d call no more than acquaintances, through fleeting thoughts or met through others’ lenses; others, he’d call old friends— some who still come to visit his abode.

Tristitia, in his moments of sorrow, for all he had lost, and in his state of despondency he figured that, perhaps, all hope was futile.

Ira, in his moments of anger, hot and burning like a volcano, and as he escaped dormancy and erupts into a shout all he can see is red, until fury gets cast aside to be found another day.

Superbia, in the moments his pride got in the way of saying what he really meant, what he really felt, like a viper making its way to constrict his neck, the right words failing to escape him.

They were oh so familiar to him, yet there was always a guest he’d refuse to entertain— Invidia.

For what was there to be jealous of? At most, he’d say he was protective over you. While he trusted that you could take care of yourself most of the time, he wasn’t so blind to the dangers of the world, whether it be someone he didn’t know or someone from his line of work possibly plotting to cause you harm.

Besides, unwelcome thoughts had always been easy to set aside in favour of the present— the trust and love unlike any other that he shared with you and you alone.

Shared glances, subtle brushes, warm embraces, brief kisses— those were enough to keep him grounded in reality, and soon enough the jealousy subsides… but it doesn’t dissipate.

Sometimes, you can’t have one sin without the other.

He knew he should be satisfied.

Underneath the dinner table, your feet would swing and bump against his legs as you told him about your day. The two of you were busy people, so he took solace in the daily tidbits you’d tell him. Beyond making sure nothing was troubling you, he liked hearing even the most mundane things like what work you got done, what you ate for lunch, you running into your ex—

You clearly don’t think it’s that important, the way you keep your eyes on your meal as you begin to move on to the next topic, but the unusually loud sound of Sakyo’s spoon clang against the bowl halts whatever words were going to leave you next.

You looked at him with concern, and though your gazes meet there’s something he’s trying to hide. You know it, and he knows you know it too— for how long you’ve known each other, you were able to detect even the smallest flickers of a mood change.

“Sakyo, are you okay?”

Patiently, you waited for his reply. You continued to stare at him; though there was no judgement or doubt present, he couldn’t help but hide some details. Not a lie, just a mask using his preexisting protectiveness to hide unwanted emotions.

“He didn’t try to pull anything funny, right?” Sakyo asked, “I know you can handle yourself, but I just want to make sure.”

You let out a small laugh and shook your head.

“We ended on good terms,” you insisted, “he just asked me how I’ve been, I did the same, then we went our separate ways.”

A familiar weight came to rest on his hand atop on the table, the circling of your pads against his skin allowing his insecurities to sink back to the depths where they came from.

You parted your lips, your hesitance obvious as you moved to close them again, before ultimately deciding to speak your mind. Your lilt is teasing, but your eyes showed him something that shook him.

“Are you jealous?”

“I trust you” was his immediate reply.

Neither affirmative nor negative, but you don’t push it further, deciding to grace him with a smile instead.

People said red was the colour of anger, but that wasn’t the case for Sakyo. He was not so hot-headed as to burst into flame the moment a guy got too close for his comfort, regardless of how harmless it was.

Sakyo’s anger was blue. Blue, the colour of the rough sea that wiped out everything should you be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Blue, like the centre of the flame that, left unattended, could burn everything to a crisp.

He bottled it up knowing that it was his arm wrapped around your shoulders and not the guy in front of you. It’s childish to feel this way, towards someone you obviously thought of as an old friend—

and yet his glare was like lightning on a stormy night.

“We’ll be late,”

and his voice was the rumble of thunder.

The immediate gratification he felt as the two of you walked away from that man irked him soon after. He was already over 30— who was he to be so petty and immature over something so trivial?

Had that man even looked at you a certain way or did he immediately choose to believe he would have?

“The play doesn’t start for one more hour,” you reminded him, “did you forget?”

He shook his head wordlessly.

“So I guess I was right,” you didn’t have to say what you were right about, only moving closer to him as you two continued walking.

Just as he enjoyed hearing about your daily life, he cherished hearing about your past too. Stories from your childhood, to how you were at high school, to the trouble you got caught up in during college.

Even though he wasn’t there with you during those times, it almost felt like he was with your vivid descriptions and enthusiastic storytelling.

“Sakyo, you look upset,”

but glimpses were all that he had. He knew it was wrong to feel upset over something so trifling, he’s here in your present, but then his insecurities resurface and were you happier then? He was jealous of those who knew you back then, in that time frame in which he wasn’t there.

“did I say something?”

He broke off from his musing, finding himself a bit regretful over the frequency of concern in your eyes lately.

Neither of you spoke for what must have been a couple or so minutes, merely neither of you breaking eye contact as you stared at each other— you on one side of the sofa and him on the other. Letting go of his hesitancy, his gaze tore away from yours as his confession tumbled down his lips,

“I’m jealous.”

Admitting to having this feeling he detested took a lot of courage and vulnerability out of him, but once he said it a significant weight over his shoulders lifted. It was rare for him to be so talkative, but all the same, navigating murky emotions were easier with his partner than alone.

No accusations, no defensiveness, just the unpleasant feelings he experienced.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you replied after he finished, scooting over to his side of the sofa as you brought him into an embrace he instinctively returned.

“I know there are times it can’t be controlled, but,” you pulled away momentarily, planting a brief kiss on Sakyo’s lips, “remember that you’re the one I’m in love with, and the one I will always choose to be with.”

He sends off his old friends with a farewell, for they have overstayed their welcome.

Tristitia, Ira, Superbia, Invidia.

After the four of them left, he couldn’t even take the time to dwell on their departure. Wouldn’t spare the time. After all, he was now welcoming guests much more pleasant and worth his time.

He returned your kiss with one of his own.

want to order again?

extra fun fact: other than ginji, actually decided to write this because i was reading about the history of the seven deadly sins, and apparently, invidia (envy) wasn’t part of the original list (of which there were 8, not 7, sins) until Pope Gregory I added it in AD 590. i went, “nice fact... oh, what if i use this in a fic-”

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#sakyo furuichi #furuichi sakyo #a3! sakyo #cafe: dessert menu #a3! x reader #a3! imagines #a3! game #a3! actor training game

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goneseriesanalysis · 3 years

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Sam Temple

Ok, so I’m going to start by working through my opinions on the different characters of the series before I delve into other topics such as representation and plot. Here are my opinions on your main man Sam (I’ve only re-read Gone so far and will be doing a new one for each of the books).

Also I feel like this goes without saying, but just in case: Spoiler warning for Gone down below

Original Opinion: I thought Sam was a boring protagonist with little to no personality asides from surfing and being ‘in love’ with Astrid.

New Opinion: While I still think Sam is an underdeveloped protagonist, I enjoyed his character much more than I remember, and have more thoughts on him than I realised.

1.) SAM’S APPEARENCE AND CHARACTER: We get some indication of who Sam is, and his role in the story, in the first chapter. He describes himself as sticking “to jeans and understated t-shirts, nothing that drew to much attention to himself.” While this description is reflective of Sam’s reluctance to become a leader later in the books, it kind of reminds me of every boring protagonist of every ya book/film/tv show ever. It’s a little cliché and as soon as I read this I groaned out loud and prepared myself for the most basic protagonist to ever grace the page.

We then get a little insight into his personality and his relationship with the citizens of Perdido Beach:

“everybody knew who he was, but few people were quite sure what he was.”

“He was a surfer who didn’t hang out with surfers. He was bright but not a brain. He was good-looking, but not so that girls thought of him as a hottie.”

We get the idea that Sam is the underdog. Nobody really knows him, but they all expect him to be there when something goes wrong. This is a really good indictor for his role in the rest of the story, but the description still gives us almost no insight into who Sam is as a person. The best word I can think of to describe his personality is ‘protagonist’ - he could have been so much more if he had been given just a little bit more development.

The next paragraph explains the school bus incident, where we again get absolutely no information on his personality. It’s almost as if Michael forgot that the hero had to be an actual person too. We get told that Sam has one heroic moment and then goes back to being his normal self, but what is his normal self?? I still have no idea.

We get some more description of Sam when Caine is introduced in Chapter 14 “He had dark hair and dark eyes, not much different from Sam himself” - and this is reiterated by Astrid in Chapter 38 “Astrid was struck by how alike the two boys looked superficially.” “Where Caine hid his arrogance and cruelty behind a smooth, controlled surface, Sam let his emotions play out on his face.” But even here we still get very little idea as to what he actually does look like, a weak point I have noticed in Michael’s writing is his vague descriptions. I do really like Astrid’s comment on how they display their respective emotions. Sam’s strength in morality, his lack of deception, is also a weak point in his leadership - he is too easy to read and therefore manipulate (this isn’t really shown in this book but I remember this becoming apparent with the town council). Caine’s weakness in morality saves him from this weakness but leaves him open to betrayal and mistrust (and rightfully so).

2.) SAM’S HOME: We next get to see Sam’s house in Chapter 3, which is described as being a “small squashed-looking one-story house with a tiny, fenced backyard and no real front yard.” From this description, and other information throughout the book, we get the idea that Sam and his mother are relatively poor. However, I would prefer to have been shown this instead of being told. Sam’s monetary situation never seems to affect his decisions and opinions which is a little disappointing as, from someone who has grown up poor, I know that it is something that really does affect your whole worldview. The only indicator we get that this situation has affected Sam in any way, is his comment on how wasteful the kids are being with food during the first night at the plaza - but he never actually acts on this - that job falls to Caine and later Albert.

It would have been interesting to explore how Sam could have reacted to Caine’s wealthy upbringing as opposed to his own. Them both being jealous of each other’s lives for different reasons (Caine for his lack of parental love, Sam for his lack of financial security) would have added depth to their relationship as well as Sam’s character. I’m also interested to see how Sam reacts to Albert basically reinstating capitalism in later books. As I remember, he was never overly opposed to it, but it will be interesting to see if his reaction is a direct result of his childhood.

3.) SAM’S FEAR OF THE DARK: This is plot point that is introduced to establish Sam’s powers, and it doesn’t have any other relevance in the story. This is disappointing as, with the final villain being nicknamed “the darkness” it could have been a really poetic and fitting ending for Sam to conquer both his innate fear and the villain at the same time. However as I remember it (possible spoilers for fear and light), Sam has very little to do with Gaia - Gaia mostly interacting with Diana, Caine, Drake and Lana. His ability to produce light in order to counter act this fear is a really nice inclusion though, and reflects how Sam’s leadership is a safety net to those living in the FAYZ.

4.) SAM MOTIVATIONS: We first get an idea of what it is that motivates Sam when he talks about attacking Tom in Chapter 13, “I thought he was trying to hurt my mom.” Sam’s powers are triggered by fear, his first instinct is to protect those that he loves, and he will resort to violence if it is necessary. This idea is shown again when Sam steps in to protect Bette. His first instinct is to de-escalate the situation (and, interestingly, he looks to Howard to help him with this), but, when that fails, he resorts to violence. I really like this inclusion as it gives insight into Sam’s basic motivations and also explains how he was so quickly willing to murder Drake after Drake went after Astrid. Sam’s attack on Tom is heavily reflective of Sam’s relationship with Drake in the first book - Sam burning Tom’s hand foreshadows him burning Drake’s arm.

One thing that bothers me with this scene, however, is that Sam shows little to no emotion when talking about his stepfather - and this is never expanded on. It seems out of character for Sam, one of the kindest characters in the book, to feel almost nothing towards his stepfather, and with no explanation as to why this might be. We get no indication of their relationship prior to the incident, which would have been a good chance to further develop Sam.

Later in the book, when Tom is brought up again Sam says that he felt a rush “I thought, oh, my God, look at the power I have.” - And this again is never expanded on. Sam’s main fault is his unwillingness to shoulder the responsibility of being a leader, and he never really experiences a corruption of power in the way that this line hints. I think Michael may have just added this is to highlight the differences between Sam and Caine, but it feels out of character, especially seen as it is never brought up again (at least in this book, I can’t remember if this is featured later on in the series)

5.) SAM’S POWERS: I mentioned before how Sam’s powers are first introduced to us through the flashback to Tom and his fear of the dark. But the first time we actively see him use them in the book is during The Fire and later at the powerplant. During both of these situations, Sam is unable to fully control his power and can only summon them through fear. His core motivation is to protect rather than attack. I also find it interesting that Sam is technically the first person to kill someone in the FAYZ, but I don't really have anything else to say about it :/

The first time we see Sam voluntarily use his powers in in Chapter 28, when Astrid manipulates him into using his anger instead of his fear. I find this interesting, because, despite the change in emotion, Sam’s motivation largely remains the same. The use of his power here comes from his anger at Drake having hurt Astrid, his anger that he wasn’t there to protect her.

This then changes in chapter 33, when Sam seems to gain full control over his powers. This time, when he summons his anger he focuses on his mother. I have a few issues with this. Firstly, Sam gaining control of his powers seems rushed for plot convenience, especially when you compare him to Caine, who was more willing to use his powers and yet took months to master them?? Is this a hint that, if Sam were willing to go as far as Caine, he would be the more powerful one - or is it just lazy writing?? It seems that Sam and his powers were pushed aside for other storylines, which is troubling considering he is the main character. The other thing that bothers me about this scene is that Sam’s anger at his mother is not further developed (are you noticing a theme??) It would have been nice if this had come up again properly in the poof scene.

The poof scene would have been an excellent scene to develop Sam’s character, instead, for me, it fell flat. We don’t get much perception into Sam’s thoughts other than that his first instinct is to reach out to his mother, but this provides us with very little indication about who he is as we know that this has also been every other child’s first instinct. Him being the first one to refuse is indicative of his strength and hints that the anger he felt at his mother was more than a fleeting emotion, but it would have been nice to go into more depth on his feelings about his mother and Caine. A strong, emotionally charged verbal stand-off where Sam and Caine both vent their feelings towards their mother/the gaiphage would have been an excellent ending to the big fight - as Sam’s true strength is his compassion as opposed to his use of his powers. This could have also had a fantastic payoff in later books, where Gaia could have used this moment against the boys.

6.) WHAT MAKES SAM A HERO: I’ve already mentioned that Sam’s main strength is his kindness and compassion, which is nice to see - especially in a male protagonist (whether this continues in later books I can’t remember). His adversity to becoming the leader is his biggest weakness, as it often prevents him from doing the right thing in time sensitive situations. I found that this line from chapter 11 nicely sums this idea up “In a closet off the main room he found a grey-green military shirt, many sizes too large.” - possibly referring the idea that Sam is not ready to become the leader/ hero just yet. His hesitance, his insecurities, making him unfit to lead as of yet. Also nicely reminds you how he is just a child.

Then, there are multiple moments throughout the book where Sam is just shown to be the sweetest person and these are my two favourites:

“I’m not supposed to cross the street. // It’s ok. I’ll watch while you do, ok?” - Chapter 5

“Astrid, tell me if this is crazy: I’m thinking if there are any leftovers, we could send them up to Coates.” - Final

The reason people follow him is because in a world where he could be anything, where the old rules just don’t apply anymore, he still chooses to be kind and honestly I love him for it. His line “It is our world. So let’s make it a good one” contrasts Diana’s line “We didn’t make this world, we’re just the poor fools who are living in it.” And really just highlights how good he is. He deserves so much more credit than he gets from the ungrateful cretins whose lives he saves on a daily basis. I just wish Michael had developed him further past being the protagonist.

Another fantastic Sam moment is the bit where he escapes from the collapsed apartment building. If you are ever re-reading the series and wondering why Sam is the protagonist, please just read this moment again and tell me you don’t get chills

“Diana tripped backwards from the blow and sat down hard on the stone steps.

Caine could see her face with a sudden, terrible clarity by the glow of a brilliant column of blinding, green-white light.

That light could only have one source.

He lights was light a spear aimed at the sky. It arced upwards from the midst of the rubble of the apartment building.

‘No,’ Caine said.” Chapter 45

7.) OTHER:

These are just a couple of things I noticed, but can’t really make an infirmed point about

Is Sam’s light being green a reference to the gaiphage, or just a random addition??

I noticed that the first few freaks we learn about other than Sam just have a variation of his power. Is this lazy writing or does it have some significance that I missed??

So there are my opinions on Sam from the first book. I’m sorry that this was so long but I have just so many thoughts. I think I’m going to do separate posts for Astrid, Caine, Diana and Drake and then I’ll pair up the others before moving onto relationships, representation and my likes/ dislikes.

Thank you so much if you read this, and please feel free to give me your own opinions and interpretations :)

#the gone series #sam temple #Gone

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nsheetee · 5 years

Text

The Intricate Art of Being Enemies

Pairing: Rich Kid!Chenle x Rich Girl!Reader Genre: College AU, Rich Kid AU, Enemies to Lovers AU || Fluff, Angst Length: 14k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, a kissing scene Summary:

Step 1: The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him your friend Step 2: Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake Step 3: When you are confronted with an opponent, conquer him with love

Key: Sections in italics indicate the scene happened in the past

»»————-✧༺♥༻♛༺♥༻✧————-««

A four-leafed clover, a rare variation of the common three-leafed clover, is said to bring luck into the life of whoever finds it. To you, a four-leafed clover brought Chenle.

You found the clover in a sandpit during recess in kindergarten; maybe it got stuck on the bottom of someone's shoe or maybe the wind blew it this far from its home, but you didn’t care. It was pretty and your favorite color and you wanted it, but you reached for it at the same time a little boy with the chubbiest cheeks you’ve ever seen did. Chenle quickly snatched the clover out of the sand and clutched it to his chest. When he looked back at you, seeing tears well up in your eyes from the sudden fright, he sighed. His parents always told him to be nice to little girls, and he didn’t know much but he did know his parents are smart people. So he crawled over, sand sticking uncomfortably to his shins, and held out the clover to you.

“Here.” The smile that lit up your face made Chenle blush and quickly scurry away, but you called out to him.

“Wait! What’s your name?”

“I’m Chenle, you can call me Lele.”

“Thank you, Lele.”

“No problem, Clover.” And with that, he ran towards the swings and joined the rest of his friends with the reddest face, yours mirroring the same shade from the unexpected nickname.

Unfortunately, that would be the last innocent interaction between you and Chenle for a long, long time.

Your teacher took extra care so that you didn’t make any contact with Chenle after the day in the sandpit. As a small child, just being introduced to the world outside of your family, you couldn’t understand why your parents didn’t want you hanging around Chenle. He was in your class, sat at your work table, and was just a little dorky.

Your mother gathers you in her arms and sits you down on her lap, picking up a heavy brush from the table and begins brushing your hair in soothing strokes as she explains.

“Chenle is part of the Zhong family. Do you know who they are?” She asks you.

“No, Mommy.”

“The Zhong family runs a make-up company, just like we do. But they are very, very bad.” Your mother’s tone changes, but her steady hands keep brushing your soft hair. “They do a lot of bad things, and when you grow up you will learn more, do you understand?” No, you didn’t really understand, but her tightening grip on your hair makes you nod your head obediently.

“I’m glad. Remember: Don’t talk to Chenle. He and his family are the bad guys. We are the good guys.”

Your mother held true to her word, as you grew up you learned all about the Zhongcology Cosmetic Company. The company was run by the Zhong family, more specifically Liwei Zhong- Chenle’s father. Being the rivals of your family’s cosmetic company, Nuvane, you learned about their sick and twisted method of testing their products on animals. Although these were speculations, the amount of rumors that built up over time along with the consistency in stories made it seem as if it was fact. Unlike your parents, you waited to believe these rumors until hard facts were released that completely proved these stories.

Nuvane prided itself in complete animal-free testing of make-up products; from the beginning to the end of production, not one animal is harmed. Your parents taught you the importance of respecting animals and nature. You picked up the value instinctively, making them proud. Before you really knew how to hate, you started hating Zhongcology; just the thought of them testing their products on animals made you nauseous. Once you were old enough, you decided to wear your families make-up products with pride, knowing that they were safely made.

Chenle spent his childhood learning the same thing about your family. He was taught that Nuvane was filled with a bunch of sneaky, conniving tree-huggers who spewed lies about his family's company because of jealousy and hate for what was true: Zhongcology didn’t test on animals and made products that were superior to Nuvane.

Once you learned and understood the hatred between the two business, you still couldn’t understand the feud between the two families. You wouldn't believe that business practices could have your parents spouting venom about the Zhongs, and even pre-teenager you could understand there was something more that the families hated about each other. When you tried to ask your parents about it, you were met with a wave of a hand and the old, overused story of the Zhong’s business practices. It confused you, Chenle too, but after several years, you both learned to stop asking.

Regardless of the disputes, you and Chenle still went to the same school. From elementary to high school, and now the same private college, Carlston University, where your parents and grandparents once attended. The competition naturally continued here, through you and Chenle. You had so many rivalries that it was hard to keep track; everything from academics (who got the highest score on standardized tests), to how many titles of club president you could possess in the short four years of high school (you were the president of the Ecology Club, Chenle was one of the lead singers in Choir), even to how many hours of community service each could rack up (currently, it was you).

Maintaining this imagine of competitiveness was important for both of you; not only did it fuel your family’s image, but also yours as the next heirs of the two biggest make-up companies in the world. Before you could take the reins of the company, this seemed to be the only way to make your family proud; and if hating each other was the way to go, then you thrived in it.

You practically searched for things to hate in each other. Like the meticulous nature of Chenle, a micromanager, which is not a very good quality in a business man. Yet, people praise him for it left and right. He didn’t really fancy you that much either: you jumped to conclusions and were too willing to dive into what could possibly be a socially dangerous situation.

As the saying goes, keep your friends close but your enemies closer. You never would have guessed how close in character and mindset you and Chenle actually are.

During your lunch break, you spend your time in the library. Some days you studied, some days you mindlessly ate your lunch, some days you read; it was quiet and no one bothered you, a perfect break from all of your responsibilities. Today, you decide to venture into the book-keeping part of the library, where all the historical books about the school are located. Your eye catches the row of yearbooks dating back to the 50’s and you immediately search for the one from 1982, the year your parents would have been freshman at this University. You flip through the old pages, aimlessly looking through the black and white photos to find one of your parents, but instead you stumble onto something else.

You stare at the old, grainy photograph as if you can’t believe it exists. A woman, one who you have seen several times in your own family photo albums, stares back with a secret smile on her face and the man next to her wears the same expression, both of their eyes taunting you with something you don’t know yet. A shudder runs down your back as you read the description underneath the picture.

“1982, Wilson and Zhong prepping for their upcoming debate.” You recognized Wilson as your mother’s maiden name. But Zhong… There is one Zhong family that you’re very aware of and that family is a forbidden topic in your household. Something in your head tells you to shut the yearbook and put it away; if you act like you didn’t see it maybe you’ll forget about the man named Zhong that stands so close to the woman who you know you have a connection with, but don’t know how. Instead, you turn your head from side to side to scan the vicinity, and quickly rip out the page. Shoving the picture into the deepest depths of your backpack, you continue with your day and hope that your curiosity will be repressed.

Chenle learned to pick locks when he was 12; his nanny at the time taught him and Chenle has used this skill more times than he would like to admit. Like now, as he shoves a bobby pin into his father’s desk drawer lock. Chenle does this with the quietness of a mouse and the swiftness of a crook, excitement coursing through him but he swears he isn’t doing anything bad- He just wants the book his father keeps saying he will give him. He never meant to run into the picture and he only slightly wished he never did. Chenle holds the picture up to a light to see the caption better, eyes widening at the caption: “1982, Wilson and Zhong prepping for their upcoming debate.”

Chenle scans the room, as if waiting for someone to come in and catch him in the act. He sets the photo down and walks towards his father’s bookshelves, scanning the photographs that are placed at random on the shelves. One of the photographs closer to the bottom contains a picture of the man from the photograph Chenle just found, standing next to the younger version of his father. Chenle knows he’s seen this face before and his curiosity becomes too great to ignore. Chenle runs back to the desk and takes out his phone, snaps a shot of the old photo, quickly putting things back to where he found them and leaving the room as quietly as he came in. The photo burns a hole in Chenle’s phone as he sits at the dinner table later that night, thinking of the eyes of the man who he knew was somehow important to him.

Step 1: The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him your friend

Despite the differences that you Chenle have been grown into thinking you have, you both think quite similarly. So when you make your way to the classroom that the photograph had been taken in so many years ago, it shouldn’t have been surprising to see Chenle there, too. You walk through the door and immediately scoff, ready to walk back out. Chenle turns around at the sound and rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He asks harshly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked first.”

“Aren’t we a little too old to be playing this game?” Your patience wears thin every moment he opens his lips and you consider walking out once more.

“Then just answer the question.” You were about to throw some witty comment back at him until you see the familiar, grainy picture on his phone. You grip your own copy of the photo in your perfectly manicured hand and Chenle notices the motion. His breathing hitches as you try to hide the all-to-familiar photo behind your skirt and he steps forward, eyes on your hand.

“What’s that?” Chenle takes another step forward when you don’t answer, the back of your thighs hit a desk and the sudden feeling makes you sit down on the table. The photo drops to the tile floor and Chenle scoops it up. He could tell it was the same picture from ten feet away, but now that he holds a physical copy of it in his hands, his mind swirls with ideas.

“Let me guess… you know the woman in the photo?”

“I’m guessing you know the man, then?” You ask back and Chenle lets out a pained sigh.

“You can never just answer a question the normal way, can you?” It’s your turn to let out a sigh and you snatch the photo out of Chenle’s hand.

“I don’t know the woman… but she’s in a lot of my family's pictures from a long time ago. In my family, we don’t take pictures with people who have the last name Zhong.” You lean forward during the last line and your tongue practically drips with distaste at the last word. Chenle lets you push him away, but his next comment makes you stop before you leave the room.

“That man in the photo- I don’t know who he is either, but I know he’s somehow involved with my father. If you want to know what happened to the woman, I don’t think it’s something you can figure out alone.” As much as the thought triggers your gag reflex, you have to admit that Chenle is right. If that man is connected to the Zhong’s, Chenle is the best way to get the inside scoop. Your head is telling you no, but your gut is telling you to take the risk.

As if the universe could sense you needed a push, the door suddenly opens to reveal Dr. Krabbenhoft, the Forensics teacher. He’s an old and stout man who smells a bit like mothballs and earl grey tea, but he’s one of the oldest teachers in the University and most likely was teaching speech and debate back in 1982.

“Sir… My apologies for the intrusion. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.” Your eyes sway over to Chenle and you make quick eye contact- an even quicker decision made in your mind. “I mean…. We were hoping to ask some questions.” Chenle then steps forward and Dr. Krabbenhoft looks both of you up and down, scrunches his nose to push his glasses into place, waving at both of you to follow him as he walks further into the classroom.

“I don’t remember either of you in any of my classes.” He lays his briefcase down on desk.

“We’re freshman, we can’t take any of your graduate courses, sir.” Chenle chimes in, his tone different from the bitter one he used to talk to you only a few moments ago.

“Then what questions could you have for me.” As if on cue, Dr. Krabbenhoft notices the picture in your hand. You smooth it out before handing it over; the old man gently grips the paper at the edges and moves it in front of his sight until he sees the grainy image.

“We were wondering if you knew who those people are?” Dr. Krabbenhoft sends both of you a glance over the top of the photograph.

“I know I may look like an ancient relic, but I wasn’t working at this school in 1982. The Forensics teacher at the time was Dr. Jones. She can tell you about these kids.” He hands back the picture and starts sorting through his papers, completely unbothered.

“Where could we find Dr. Jones?” Chenle asks hesitantly.

“The last I heard she was in a nursing home in Parksville.” You and Chenle share another look. This woman could be dead by now, and that could be a major dead end to what is only the beginning of this mystery. You thank Dr. Krabbenhoft on your way out and silently walk down the empty halls.

“So… we’re a “we” now, huh?” Chenle jokes from beside you, knocking you out of your thoughts and making you send him a pursed look with a raised eyebrow.

“We are only working together to figure out who these people are, that’s it.” You concisely define your new relationship. A chill runs down Chenle’s spine and he fixes the silk tie on his uniform to keep his reaction from showing.

“We need to head over to Parksville. There’s only one nursing home there and if Dr. Jones is still alive, we need to ask her some questions.”

“Okay… So, let’s go tomorrow? After classes?” You suggest.

“Meet me in the baseball field parking lot. We can take my car.”

“You really want to meet all the way by the baseball fields?” You stop and turn towards each other.

“Don’t you think it would be a little suspicious if people saw you getting into my car after classes one day? Especially the type of people that attend this University… our parents will hear about it in no time.” Ah, your parents. Of course, wandering around with someone who is your lifelong enemy and taking a trip with him would probably not stand so well with either of your parents. You realize you hate how Chenle keeps making valid points, or maybe you just hate how you can only agree with all of the others who praise him: he really does think about all the details.

“Fine.” Chenle starts to walk again until you speak again. “Just so you know, this is only until we figure out who these people are.”

“What you’re trying to say is… you don’t trust me?” Chenle asks.

“What I’m trying to say is… There isn’t a “we” and there never will be. Let’s make sure we can go back to the way things are after we figure this out. Got it, Lele?”

“Fine, whatever you’d like, Clover.”

The next day, after you changed out of your uniform and Chenle picked you up at the baseball field parking lot, you make your drive to Parksville. The car is quiet, only the radio silently playing in the background and the sound of wind hitting Chenle’s Mercedes-Benz as he drives down the highway. You pull down the sun visor and open the mirror, retouching your make-up; Chenle rolls his eyes when he sees the familiar blue label of “Nuvane” on all of your products from the corner of his eye. The eye roll did not go unnoticed by you, and you spend the entire ride in stubborn silence.

The “Sunny Hillside Retirement Home,” despite the chirpy receptionist and the cheerful name, looks dull: old, slow-tempo jazz music plays, the wallpaper is an incredibly dull yellow color, and several buff men are wearing the same dull yellow polo with “Sunny Hillside Retirement Home Security” printed boldly on the back.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sunny Hillside Retirement Home! How can I help you?”

“Hello, we are looking for Dr. Jones?” Chenle asks. The receptionist tilts her head but her smile stays strangely stable.

“Dr. Maria Jones? Of course, can I ask what your relationship is?” The receptionist starts fiddling around on her desk. You and Chenle take the time to share a look; unfortunately, you both didn’t think this far. If you answer with the truth, they’ll never let you see Dr. Jones, but what lie could you come up with in one shared glance? Thankfully, the receptionist’s assumption answers for you.

“Oh, I’m guessing you’re her grandchild? And you’re the spouse, right?” You didn’t think about the implications of saying you’re married to Chenle, or how stupid the receptionist must be to think that two college freshman are married.

“Yes, we are.”

Chenle naturally wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, and you both give a fake, warm smile, pleasing the receptionist. You resist the urge to show surprise on your face as the receptionist hands over your pre-made name tags. Chenle was given the one with “Sam” on it and you got the one with “Amanda” on it. Chenle guides you away from the receptionist’s desk with a hand on your lower back and leans over to whisper in your ear.

“We must be the luckiest people ever because that was way too easy.” You push his arm away, giving it a look of disgust as you walk further into the building.

“Don’t be so lax, someone is supposed to be here instead of us. The receptionist will figure it out soon.”

You and Chenle walk into a living room-looking area; it smelled of medicine and dust, several people were sitting around and watching the television, some were playing board games, and some were looking out the window. You tap Chenle’s arm as you spot Dr. Jones, a perfect older version of her picture from one of the older yearbooks. She looks old in every sense of the word. Her skin sagging and her hair whitening, she looks fragile enough to fall apart if the wind from the open window blew too hard. Walking up to her seat by the window, you gently clear your throat to get her attention.

“Hello, Doctor. I’m Y/N, and this is Chenle. We were hoping we could ask you some questions about some students you once had?” She woman stares at both of you, looking down at your name tags, and opens her wrinkly mouth.

“You kids have nothing better to do than to bother old ladies?” Her boisterous voice blew you and Chenle out of the water and you both physically take a step back, shocked at how deep her face could frown. “Questions? What questions could you want to ask? Are you from the NSA? They really train ‘em young, don’t they?” She continues. You and Chenle look around at the rest of the people in the room, panicking at all the attention that now seems to be thrown your way.

“Whatever it is, it’s not worth my-”

“It’s about these people.” Chenle suddenly pulls out your crumpled piece of paper, catching Dr. Jones attention. Her hand reaches forward and snatches the paper, squinting at the grainy photograph.

“What about them?” She asks.

“Who are they?”

“They were some of the best debaters I have ever taught. I am still proud of what they achieved despite the sins they committed.” She nonchalantly hands the paper back as your and Chenle’s eyes widen at the word “sins.”

“I’m sorry, sins? What sins did they commit.” You ask but before Dr. Jones could answer, your attention is drawn to the slamming doors at the front of the room. The receptionist stands with two security guards at her side, surveying the room until their eyes land on you.

“There, those two.” The receptionist doesn’t seem to be as preppy as she was before, and could even be more angry than the woman sitting in the chair next to you. You freeze as the two security guards march towards you, but Chenle grabs your hand tightly in his own and pulls you through the door at the other end of the room. You hear the stomping of feet from behind you as Chenle rushes you down hallway after hallway in what seems like a labyrinth more than a retirement home.

“Where are we going?” You tug on his hand in an attempt to slow down.

“I’ll tell you when I know.” Chenle stops at a cross in the hallway, looking down all ways before pulling you out of the doors with the big red “EXIT” sign over them. The alarm system screams from behind you and the harsh wind whips at your faces as you run through the parking lot to the car, kicking up the few yellow and orange leaves that have already fallen to the dirty concrete. You and Chenle don’t get a chance to breathe until you're in the car, on the highway heading back home.

“God, that place was a prison.” Chenle heaves and you silently agree, still out of breath.

“I never would have thought that an old lady could have so much pent-up anger.” You sigh and it’s Chenle’s turn to agree with you. Slowly, giggles arise as Chenle thinks about the insane situation you both were in. Before you know what’s going on, you and Chenle are pulled over to the side of the road with unstoppable laughter filling the car.

“Oh, my god.” Chenle gasps and continues to cackle. You try to not shove your fingers in your ears from the loud sounds coming from his mouth.

“What is that?” You ask as he calms down.

“What?”

“That cackling sound?”

“That was laughter… Oh, sorry. You wouldn’t know what that is, right?” You roll your eyes but before you can say anything else, Chenle speaks up again. This time, he sounds a bit insecure. “Is it… annoying?”

“What? No, it’s just different. Good- different.” Chenle turns away to hide his smile at your answer. You've never heard him laugh like that before, not even with his friends at University. You feel a little flutter in your heart from the thought that he let you hear something so raw and pure like his actual laugh. The adrenaline still in your system, you realize this is the first truly teenager-ish and rebellious thing you’ve done, and you did it with Chenle, of all people.

“Lele… Do you think these people actually committed sins? Is that why we don’t know who they are?” The mood in the car shifts with your sudden questions.

“Dr. Jones seems a bit… exaggerated. I think we should take her words with a grain of sand.” Chenle reasons.

“But then… why don’t our families talk about these people if they didn’t do something bad.” You and Chenle think it over; the visit seems to have raised more questions than answers.

“Let’s go home.” Chenle sternly says and starts the car again. The ride back to school is more quiet than the ride to Parksville.

Although it seems like you and Chenle hit a dead end with the visit to Dr. Jones, you refuse to believe the story ends there. After some more research in the yearbook, you find names of other people on the Forensics team from 1982. You’re not surprised to find that most of them moved to other cities and that some of them have already passed away. What you were surprised to find was that one member from the Forensics team was your own neighbor, Paul Reizter. He lives a few houses down from you, and you’re all in for the idea of paying him a visit until Chenle refuses.

“Can you stop being such a walnut, Lele? Mr. Reitzer was on the same team as these people, he probably knew them well. This could be the way to figure out who they are.”

“Absolutely not. He lives two houses away from yours. Two. You’re practically asking to get caught. All your parents have to do is look out the window and they’ll see us, and then what?” You sigh in frustration, all the reasons why you couldn’t stand Chenle in the first place filtering through your mind.

You want to argue that the forest in your backyard and the fact that Mr. Reizter’s house is a gated mansion would make going to his place more discreet, but you keep your mouth shut. The answer to your questions could be, literally, down the street and you wonder if it would be a big deal to visit your neighbor without Chenle. Just the thought of it creates a weird, uneasy feeling in your stomach that makes you retract the statement from your mind. You hate to admit it but after visiting the Sunny Hillside Retirement Home, you started to slightly respect Chenle for his quick thinking under pressure, a skill that you obviously do not possess.

“Fine, we won’t go. Do you have a better idea?”

“I might. But it’s a bit… meticulous.” And that’s how you and Chenle end up at the city registrar's office, a small corner of city hall that doesn’t look like it has been used in several years. The office was stacked high with shelves of newspapers and documents dating back from several decades ago. This time around, you and Chenle thought through your plan carefully before visiting the registrar. You walk in separately, ask for different documents, and sit at different sides of the work room that’s adjacent to the office. Once the registrar left the work space, you and Chenle move to sit together in the far corner of the dusty room.

After taking the time to grimace at the old paper smell and the continuous sound of a fan working in the corner, the work room became your second home over the next few weeks. You spent hours sifting through several different newspapers from 1982 trying to find any traces of your mystery people.

It seems like it was the hundredth time you’ve sighed, the toll of hours of research coming onto you. Chenle walked out of the room a while ago and you cursed him out in your head for leaving to make you do all the work. Almost exactly after that thought, Chenle walks back into the room. He sets down a large cup in front of you and you quizzically stare at it.

“It’s hot chocolate,” He says as he sits and takes a sip from his own cup, “Don’t you know what hot chocolate does?” He muses. You take a sip, the chocolate melts on your tongue and the whipped cream mixes in to make just the right amount of sweetness to calm your frustration.

“No, what does it do?” You ask, almost distracted by the drink in your hands.

“It helps you think better.”

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious! Just watch, we’ll find something in no time.” You continue your work, and silently appreciate Chenle’s efforts to lift the spirit in the room.

You always take Chenle’s car to the registrar’s office, leaving yours at the school. You once pointed out how it would be less suspicious if you took your own car, making Chenle snort. “I’ve seen how you drive around the parking lot at University, you can’t handle driving through downtown.”

Chenle parks the car and walks out towards the meter. You watch him from inside the car, picking at the meter with his finger before he walks over to you. You slowly roll down your window.

“What’s wrong?” You ask teasingly.

“The parking downtown is expensive and someone told me I can put coins into one of those… things. I don’t have coins, give me some.”

“Expensive parking?” You ask, before your face raises in realization, “Do you mean… parking tickets? Lele, it’s illegal to park here if you don’t put coins into the meter.” He blinks at you with a blank face, as if you were speaking to him in an alien language.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s not my car, why should I pay for the meter?” You explain and cross your arms stubbornly.

“C’mon, stop playing.” Chenle whines, a particularly harsh gush of wind blowing his blonde hair over his face as he reaches through the window and shoves your shoulder until you cave.

“Only if I get to drive tomorrow.” Chenle groans at your ultimatum.

“Fine, fine, whatever. Do you have to be like this, Clover?”

“Only for you, Lele.”

Sometimes, after searching through several documents and newspapers for a long time, you and Chenle lean back in your chairs and stare up at the off-white ceiling in almost-defeat, waiting for some motivation to pick you back up.

Chenle’s breathing almost lulls you to sleep. Whenever you blink, all you can see are the printed letters of newspapers in the back of your eyelids.

“This is so hard. I didn’t realize how hard this could be.” You mumble.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Chenle answers. You pause.

“You know the whole thing about bat poop in mascara? Yeah, that was all an urban myth.” Chenle laughs at your unexpected comment, turning to face you.

“What?” He can’t help but giggle at your how your hair sticks to your face as you turn your head to look at him, and he helps you move it away. “You really are a tree-hugger, huh?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.

“You know… the whole thing about Nuvane products being 100% free of animal testing and all that… You’re a tree-hugger.” Chenle explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I think you need to look up what “tree-hugger” means.” You roll your eyes, “Nuvane is 100% free from animal testing. I can swear that fact up and down and I’m proud of it. Thousands of animals are still killed through testing every year, it’s not really funny, Lele.” Your disapproving tone makes Chenle look away, a bit embarrassed at being called out. You bump your knee with his.

“Hey,” He turns to look at you, “My family are not tree-huggers, or whatever, they just don’t stand for that kind of stuff and neither will I.” You turn to focus back on the newspapers, and Chenle can’t help but admire you for a moment. You have a serious value that you uphold, and your pride in yourself makes Chenle admire you more than he already does.

Eventually you try the Internet, but the city’s digital records don’t go as far back as the 80’s. You check newspapers from 1983 and 1984, and expanding out into the nearby towns to see if their newspapers have the information you need. You refused to believe that the only trace of these people are one picture in an old yearbook. Unfortunately, luck was nowhere to be found and researching only became difficult as you proceeded; it was physically hard to keep sitting in the rickety and uneven chairs of the small work room.

Chenle watches you sit up, a hiss coming from your mouth at the feeling of your neck and back pushing into place after so many hours of hunching over papers. Your hands come up to massage the place your shoulders and neck meet as you try to get comfortable in your chair. Chenle barely realizes that he’s out of his seat, gently taking your tired hands in his own. You’re startled, but you let Chenle take control. His own hands replace yours, his delicate but strong piano fingers play a melody on your sore muscles, making you relax and lean your head back into his stomach. You occupy the room in silence for a few moments, Chenle expertly massaging until he realizes what he’s doing and suddenly stops.

“You weren’t doing it right. You’ll hurt yourself if you massage it like that.” He mumbles and sits back in his seat. You try to focus on your own work, but the lingering feeling of his fingers distracts you for the rest of the night.

You and Chenle tried to make the most use of your time, but every day you came back, the registrar seemed to become more and more suspicious of your endeavors. She’s an older woman, her wardrobe seems to consist of only tweed suits, and she wears wire bifocals that leave marks on the side of her nose when she takes them off. At first it seems like she was unbothered by your presence in her office, but after almost two months of research she decides to poke her head into the workroom. It takes you a minute to comprehend her presence and you jump away from Chenle, making him sloppily jump away from you.

“You kids have been camped out here almost every night for the past couple months. I think I now have the right to ask what you’re here for. There must be something I can help you with?” You and Chenle start to deny her request.

“Alright, but if I leave this room I may have to go make a phone call to the local news station. I bet they would be interested in why the two heirs of the biggest make-up companies-”

“Wait.” You tiredly call out when you realize what the registrar was hinting at, checking her name tag as she turns around. You had no idea if her threat held any substance, but you’re too tired to care. “Miss. Rose, we could use your help, but please don’t call anyone.”

“We’re trying to figure out who these people are.” Chenle sluggishly stands up and hands the ripped yearbook page to the registrar. “We haven’t had any luck so far, as you can tell.”

“This is what you’ve been slaving away for?” She tsks. “You could’ve just asked me first. I went to school with your parents. I was a scholarship student.” She explains and hands the photo back. You and Chenle physically slump at the realization that your answers have been this close to you all along. “Well, I was a freshman when these people were seniors. They were very popular while in school. College sweethearts, I think.”

“Wait, wait… they dated?”

“Yes, from the gossip that I heard. It was kind of obvious, too.” Miss. Rose leans against a desk and lifts her head up to the ceiling to remember. “They were always together, sitting at lunch under the apple tree in front of the University…” She trails off.

“Who are they?” You ask. The registrar gives you a perplexed look.

“You really don’t know? She’s your aunt.” Miss. Rose looks at you and then towards Chenle, “and he’s your uncle.”

“No, that’s not possible. I don’t have an uncle.” Chenle refuses and the registrar shakes her head.

“I specifically remember being told to keep away from them because they were one of the sons and daughters of the people who ran Zhongcology and Nuvane.”

“You were told to stay away?” You furrow your brows.

“My parents told me to not associate myself with them... since their companies just formed and I was just a… poor student.” Miss. Rose looks away. “I guess that was a smart idea since they started to rival against each other a few years later…” She trails off, “but that looks like it’s changing?” She smiles suggestively. Before you can deny, she speaks again.

“Why are you looking for these people?” The question threw you and Chenle off guard. Despite the months spent looking for these people, this was a conversation you have yet to share. As if Miss. Rose could sense the tension her question brought, she quickly spoke up.

“It doesn’t matter, you kids better head home. It’s almost nine.”

“Wait.” You call out before she turns around to walk out of the room. “What happened to them? Where are they now?”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. I didn’t see them during the second semester of that year. I don’t think they ever graduated either.” With that thought, she walks out of the room. As you pack away the files you checked out and put on your coat, you think about the last words Miss. Rose said. “They never graduated.” These people, who are apparently close family that you never knew you had, are out there somewhere. Living their lives and probably not thinking about what they left behind. Do they know you exist? Do they feel guilty about leaving? Why would they want to leave their family?

“What are you thinking about?” Chenle gently nudges your shoulder, and you only now realize that you’re outside, halfway to the car. It’s cold; it feels cold and smells cold and the cloudless night sky does not help heat up the city.

“Why do you want to find out so much about these people?” The repeated question stuns Chenle to his spot and you both stop walking. Your toes are beginning to lose feeling from staying outside for too long. Yet you still face Chenle, who recently dyed his hair a vibrant green color and somehow manages to pull it off with a navy Burberry coat.

“Well… at first I was just confused and curious. Now that I know that man is my uncle… I really want to find where they are.” Chenle admits. You nod and Chenle reciprocates the question. Before you can stop yourself, you let all your thoughts out, forgetting about the history between the two of you. Whatever you were taught to believe about Chenle, you refused to believe now; especially after spending so much time together these past few months.

“I’ve only seen that woman in photo albums… And now… I just want to know who she is. What does it mean that they never came back to finish school? Actually, thinking about it now, can we even trust Miss. Rose? She said she was only a freshman when they were seniors, and she didn’t know them personally-”

“Hey,” Chenle gently grabs onto your elbow. If he was as confused and nervous as you, he didn’t show it.

“We’ll figure it out. We know more now, that’s a good thing, Clover.”

“Yes, but why does it seem that answering one question just leads to four new questions?” You ask and he pulls you closer in response. In the past, you would have shoved him away, threw him a nasty glare and told him to bug off, but now you accepted the close proximity, even leaning towards him more. His cold hands hold your colder cheeks, timidly rubbing comforting circles as if asking if this was okay.

“Whatever it is, whatever happened, we’ll figure it out together. We seem to be good as a pair. Too bad we only found that out now.” He smiles and you offer a weak smile back. The look you give each other lasts longer than expected, and you feel gravity pull you to him. You can’t stop it, it feels too natural; like the pull of the moon to the Earth or the pull of waves to the shore. Chenle’s heart thumps in excitement and want when he realizes the moment is just right, his hands sliding down to hold your neck, but you’re yanked out of the moment by the stark honking of a car.

Jumping away, you both look towards the nearby intersection where two cars angrily honk at each other. You sighed in defeat, but Chenle feels agitated. With the moment broken, you seperate and a new type of cold engulfs both of you. You make your way to the car and the drive home is silent once again.

“Chenle.” A voice from the top of the staircase echoes out into the foyer. Chenle freezes in his steps and quickly turns around. He gives a half-smile to his father who begins to cascade down the staircase wearing his matching Prada robe and slippers, looking like he’s supposed to go to a photoshoot rather than to sleep.

“Where have you been, son? You keep coming home late nowadays.” His father reaches him and pats a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. Chenle appreciates the gesture, too bad it isn’t sincere. He knows the look on his father’s face: “Tell me the truth, what have you been doing.”

“I’ve been studying at the library.” Chenle half-lies.

“I’m glad to hear that, Chenle. You don’t want to study here?” “Who are you with every night?”

“I would, but I might get distracted.”

“Ah, yes. Focus on school for now. One day, you’ll be in my shoes.” “Don’t let this happen again.”

“Yes, sir.” Once Chenle is secure in the private walls of his room, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He doesn’t have many interactions with his father: some in passing in the hallways, some when he visits his office, or some at dinner every once in a blue moon. The intimidating air his father carries makes him a great negotiator and businessman, and a horrible father at the same time. Chenle then remembers the new information he learned just a few hours ago: that man has a brother, a person who has been kept secret from Chenle for his whole life. He feels strands of anger pull at his chest; his father is many things, but he prides himself in not being a liar. Chenle’s head hurts as he thinks about how that’s not the case anymore.

Just as quick as they came, Chenle’s heavy thoughts dissolve when he pulls off his coat and the smell of you permeates through the air. He stands in the middle of his room, shamelessly pushing the coat into his nose to smell more. He sighs as he pulls it away from his face, thinking about what could’ve happened on that sidewalk if the cars didn’t bother you. His tummy goes static and his heart swells, making him close his eyes in bliss at just the thought of pulling you close and feeling your lips on his own.

Chenle was sure he began to feel these feelings for you as soon as he realized you’re not what his parents told him you are. You’re not a reckless, lying tree-hugger, but a compassionate and hard-working person with a love for animals. He feels that anger come back to him; he has been lied to for so long by the people he trusted. Chenle would feel lost and confused right now, but he knows he has you, no matter how much either of you want to deny it. He thinks about you some more as he gets ready for bed, and when he lays in his dark and silent room, he smiles at what tomorrow could bring.

Little does Chenle know, on the other side of the mansion, his father walks into his office after his encounter with Chenle, and situates himself behind his large desk. Liwei Zhong’s office mirrors his personality perfectly: dark velvet curtains covering the windows and the desk chair, mahogany wood cabinets with neatly filed papers, and not a speck of dust to be seen. Leaning back in his chair, Liwei pushes a blue button on his phone, and one of the butlers of the mansion glides through the doors.

“How can I assist you, sir?”

“Find out where Chenle has been going in the evening. I don’t care how you do it, but I need hard evidence.”

“Right away, sir.” The butler exits the room as quick as he entered and Liwei glances over at the portrait of his family that hangs over the burning fireplace. He’s standing behind Chenle’s mother with an indifferent hand on her shoulder and Chenle sits next to her; the picture was taken years ago when Chenle was beginning high school. Despite the youth in his face, he held seriousness in his eyes and it made Liwei’s chest fill with pride. He pulls out a picture of his brother that sat snugly in his desk drawer, holding it up to the portrait. If only there was a fourth person who could be added…. He sighs and throws the picture back into the drawer. His son, whatever he was doing, was not going to be put to waste like his brother was. Liwei can’t do anything for his brother now, but he can do something for his son.

Step 2: Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake

The next day, Chenle walks through the courtyard at school, a pep in his step and a smile on his face. Chenle’s good day started the moment he woke up thinking about you, excited to see you today. He practically runs up the stairs and races down the hallways towards your locker. Approaching you with so many other people around was risky, but a discrete wave to each other every morning has become routine and something Chenle looks forward to. When he rounds the corner, the sight in front of him made him stop dead in his tracks. His good morning was officially ruined.

Yangyang, your incredibly fun and loud chemistry partner came up to you to talk about the recent lab. Your mind was still reeling through the events of yesterday (not just the information you learned from the registrar, but the near kiss with Chenle) and you didn’t even realize he was speaking to you.

“Y/N?” Yangyang asks and the sound of your name broke you out your thoughts.

“Yang? Oh, gosh, you were talking to me, weren’t you? I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s wrong? You look troubled.” Yangyang was such a pure soul, so happy and innocent. You decide to spare him the unwanted details.

“I just have a lot on my mind, and I didn’t get that much sleep.” Both statements are technically correct. Not the full truth, but Yangyang didn’t need to worry about it. He pulls you into a hug, a very Yang-type thing to do, and holds you back at arms length after he feels you relax.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out, you have a good brain up there.” He ruffles your hair and it makes you laugh.

“And,” he leans in, making you lean in also, “I’ll let you sleep behind your book in chemistry today if you let me copy your notes from last week.”

“Deal.” You both giggle and Yangyang waves as he walks away. A flash of green catches your attention and you turn down the hallway. Chenle was staring at you, eyes wide and mouth set in a stern line. You smile stiffly and wave, but he doesn’t wave back. Only giving you a nod, he turns and runs down a different hallway. You furrow your eyes, a new feeling creeping into the concoction that’s already in your chest- anxiety. What if you screwed things up with Chenle last night? You don’t have too much time to think about it when you realize your next class starts in five minutes.

Chenle spends his morning classes thinking about the interaction he saw between you and the guy from this morning. The way he hugged you and leaned in to you and you both laughed. It rose the ugly green monster of jealousy in his stomach and no matter how much he tried to push it down, Chenle couldn’t. He realized there was still a large gap between you and him that was created by the social pressure to hate each other, since that’s what your relationship has been so far. He thought you both had come further than that; he wanted that gap gone.

So instead of having lunch, Chenle went to the library where he knew you would be. Once he sees your belongings laying at a table, he throws his stuff down and walks down aisle after aisle, peeking down the rows until he sees you leaning a shoulder against a bookcase with all of your attention on the book in your hands. Chenle takes a deep breath, finding whatever courage he could muster to move his feet to you. The movement causes you to look up, just in time to watch Chenle gently take the book out of your hands and set it down on the bookshelf somewhere behind you. He comes closer to you- close enough to push you back into the bookcase and brace yourself against it. Your heart beats wildly as he stares at you with so much confidence and boldness, you can barely think about anything else except how close he is to you.

“Let’s finish what we started.” He whispers and you barely have time to breathe before his lips are on yours. He snakes an arm around your waist to pull you against him while the other hand pulls at the ends of your hair. His lips mesh with yours so perfectly, you barely have to think when you kiss him. He pulls you closer like he can’t get enough and kisses you harder, patience and self control leaving both of you as time goes on.

“I’ve been waiting for this.” Chenle mumbles between breathes for air, opening his eyes for long enough to see the glossed over look in your eye, and quickly diving back into the dessert that is your lips. The words repeat in your head and send butterflies straight through your chest and to your stomach.

Suddenly, the clatter of books somewhere in the library brings you both back to earth. You try to jump away but Chenle holds you close, the hand that was in your hair now holding your jaw to keep you looking at him. His green hair sticks up and you only now realize that it was your doing, both of your lips a bright red color from all the rushed activity. You bite your lip as you think about the dirty actions you just committed and Chenle finds it to be the cutest thing ever.

“C’mon, let’s go to my car.”

“Your car?”

“Yeah, where else are we going to continue this?”

When the pictures land on Liwei’s desk, his continuance first washes over with anger and then betrayal. Grabbing the pictures in a tight fist, he flips through them, the anger spreading and churning. Pictures of his son pushing his enemy's daughter against the bookshelves with lips interlocked, pictures of them walking out of school to his son’s car, more pictures and more anger. Chenle’s father dismisses the man who delivered them, and promptly throws the pictures across the room once the door shuts. He paces in front of the fireplace pensively as he smooths his hair back; whatever was going on between the two of you, Liwei cannot let it continue. He cannot let Chenle think it’s okay to lie to him, he cannot let this type of insubordination take place under his own nose. Liwei pushes the blue button on his phone once again, a butler cooly walks through the door a second later.

“Tell Moon to release the file.”

“Which file, sir?”

“He’ll know what I mean.”

“Right away, sir.” And with that, the butler leaves the dark room, letting Liwei marinate in his own frustration.

It was everywhere, it spread like a virus. The news was on the tip of everyone's tongue, the twisted information spreading like vines on a brick wall, but much, much faster. You heard it on the radio as you were studying one night.

“This just in, a new report has been released from an old employee of Nuvane stating that Nuvane has been using animals to test their products before sending them to consumers. This company, who has been a known leader in animal-free testing...” you couldn’t even hear the rest, your heart beating too loud to pay attention to anything else. You reach for your phone, fingers shaking as you type in your passcode and press the call button on your father’s contact.

“Honey, I wish I could talk to you right now but there’s a situation-”

“So it’s true?” You try to keep your voice even, but the pregnant pause from the other side of the line releases a whine from your lips. “Oh, my god. It’s true?”

“No. No, it’s not.”

“Then why did you hesitate?”

“Listen, I don’t have time right now. We’ll talk about this when I get home.” and the line cuts. You stare at your phone, not believing your father hung up on you. The news then hits you, cutting through you with a knife that lets you know one of your oldest and strongest values has a foundation as shaky as a leaf. Before you can think of anything else, you stumble into the bathroom, barely turning on the lights and dropping your phone onto the counter. The water that runs out of the tap is close to burning hot, but you don’t let that stop you as you scrub your face raw with whatever make-up remover was closest to you. You’re not sure what’s more effective, the remover or your tears, but when you turn off the water and look at yourself in the mirror, strands of your hair and the front of your shirt are soaked from the frenzy. The rims of your eyes burn from the friction and your skin is rubbed into a red color that makes it look like you just ran a marathon. Despite the endless scrubbing, your face still feels dirty, tainted. You fear that feeling won’t go away anytime soon.

The events that progress on only happen within a few short weeks: You don’t go back to classes, the fear your parents have of you being ridiculed and bullied too great to overcome the need for you to become an heir, especially since there is no need for an heir if there is no company. Your father explained that Nuvane will be going bankrupt by the end of the year due to stocks dropping and several strikes against their products, leaving them out of business. Unless, by some miracle, the report is withdrawn and redacted by whoever released it in the first place.

The report, which your parents assured you was fake, left you stunned for two reasons. Firstly, that you could go back on your family’s word and be sent into the type of episode that you had instead of believing your father. It made you think about where your loyalties lay, and how they might have been skewed because of your recent activities with a certain someone. Secondly, if the report was fake, then the person or group who released it must have some sort of vendetta against the company or against your family.

You can’t help but let some tears fall down your cheeks at the thought of this having to do with the Zhong’s.

You didn’t need to communicate with Chenle about stopping your little investigation, the message of you not returning to classes and the photographs in the news of your family walking to and from the lawyer's office with bowed heads, despite not being guilty, proved enough to both of you that solving the mystery should be put on hold. Still, Chenle was curious about several things: The fact that you swore up and down that you would never wear make-up from a brand that abused animals made it hard to believe that Nuvane could pull off something like this without you knowing about it. Of course, Chenle couldn’t assume anything, but he would like to say he knows you better- he knows you aren’t a liar.

At one point in time, Chenle hated when you would make huge mental leaps, but now it was his turn to take the jump. Which leads him to the same conclusion as you: someone who doesn't like your family or their company is out for you, and he can’t help but think of his own.

He turns up at his father’s oak door, a hand raised, ready to knock whenever he gets enough grit to move his wrist. A wave of courage overtakes him, and knocking fills the hallway as Chenle waits for his father’s permission to enter. When Chenle walks in, the room is as dark and musty as ever, and he wonders what your father’s study looks like. Is it the same maroon and ebony color scheme with dread dripping down the walls? He wonders how you’re doing, a thought he’s been having a lot lately, but quickly shakes it off as he approaches his father’s desk.

“Son, what can I help you with.” His father had the lightest smile on his face and it scares Chenle. He only smiles when he’s happy, which is not a regular occurrence.

“I was wondering…” Chenle trails off and his father gives him a stern look.

“Chenle, what did I tell you about that look on your face? If you’re unsure about something, why say anything in the first place. It makes you look weak.” His father turns back to the papers on his desk, no longer entertained by Chenle’s presence. Chenle feels a streak of frustration burn a stripe through his chest and he let out his thoughts, uncertainty and fear out of sight.

“The scandal with Nuvane. I want to know the truth.”

“What truth? The truth is that they have been testing on animals this entire time, this report just allowed everyone to see that.” Chenle’s father continues his work and Chenle continues with his incessant grilling. “You hate them so much, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had something to do with that report.” Chenle dares to suggest, earning a glance from his father over his papers. The man drops them and opens a drawer in his desk, all while keeping steady eye contact with Chenle. The photographs land in front of Chenle, and despite the darkness of the room, he sees them clearly. His stomach plummets. There’s pictures of him pushing you up against the library bookshelves, completely unaware of the world around him and oblivious to the photographer that was taking pictures of this private moment. Chenle first felt embarrassment, which turns into confusion, which turns into anger.

“And you seem to love their daughter a lot.” Lewei states but Chenle can’t seem to look him in the eye, all previous confidence lost. “Let me ask you something, Chenle. Was it worth it? Was it worth dating some girl for a while just for it to end up like this. Look at what you made me do. Her family is probably going bankrupt. If she knew about these… she’ll probably blame you for the rest of her life-”

“Don’t.” Chenle manages to growl out.

“Don’t twist yourself into a knot, Chenle. Take this situation as a lesson to be learned. Your enemies are your enemies for a reason.” Hatred fills Chenle to the brim and he feels like he’s drowning in it, like he can’t breathe and his father is the one that pushed him into it all.

“Why did you do this?” These are the only words that Chenle can say at this point.

“There are some things you don’t know- you can’t know about.” With that, Chenle’s father gathers up the spilled photos, tucking them back into his cabinet and shoo-ing Chenle off. He numbly walks out of the office, his father’s last words hover over his head. There is something Chenle doesn’t know, and it’s finally time to find out.

You didn’t expect to be back in the small registrar’s work room so soon, but the light green letter that was slid into your families mail caught your eye the second it came in; you find yourself sneaking out into downtown that night. Your beanie covers your hair and your scarf covers your face as the strong wind blew you into the registrar’s office. She smiles somewhat sympathetically and continues to look at her book as you pass by. Chenle was leaning against a desk when you walk into the familiar work room, foot bouncing up and down with nerves.

“You came.” He sounds surprised. You slowly take off your winter gear as you sit down.

“Yeah, you said you had something to say.” Chenle almost couldn’t recognize you as he takes a good look at your face. Not only do you look tired, you sound like it, too. Your usual good posture is gone and your eyes look dead. Chenle walks closer to you and kneels down in front of you, turning your fatigued frame to face him.

“How are you?” He asks, not knowing where to start. Chenle reaches up with a gentle thumb pad to trace over a scab on your cheek. “What is this?”

“It’s nothing.” You try to look away, but Chenle gently cups your cheeks in his hands and turns you to face him again. You try to look away, but Chenle cranes his neck to make eye contact.

“Please, tell me what happened. I’m worried about you.”

“I scrubbed all the make-up off my face when I heard the news…” You trail off, not needing to finish. Chenle’s heart chips a bit, he slowly leans in to place a lingering kiss over the scab. You look so worn out; the worst thing is that Chenle can do nothing about it, and that’s what hurts.

“It’s all fake. You know it’s fake, right?” Chenle almost pleads to you. You nod your head, looking like you just need to be held right now. Chenle pulls you off the chair and down on the floor in front of him, wrapping you in his embrace; the floor was cold and dirty but you don’t care. Chenle tucks you away under his chin, and kisses the top of your head as you wrap your arms around his middle, hiding away from everything else in the world. He holds you for awhile, and you don’t realize how much you needed another human’s contact these past few weeks, specifically Chenle’s.

“I know, but how do you?” Chenle tenses at your question, and you pull away when you feel the change.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” You start to grow nervous at the look on his face. “But you have to promise not to freak out.”

“With the way you’re looking at me, I don’t think I can promise anything.” Chenle nods, preparing himself for your reaction.

“I talked with my dad,” The pause between his next words is almost unbearable. “He’s the one who released that report.” You completely unravel yourself from him to look him fully in the face.

“Why?” The question is simple, but Chenle has a hard time answering. For once in your life you don’t want to jump to conclusions, so you wait for him to respond.

“I was followed… that day in the library,” Chenle can see the gears turning in your head, “And there were some pictures taken of us that my dad saw.” A chill runs down your spine; you can only imagine what kind of pictures his father has his hands on. Embarrassment slowly overtakes what seems like every empty cavity in your body.

“So that’s why he released that… that fake report? We’re the reason-”

“No, no. This is not your fault-”

“Damn right, it’s not my fault.” You slightly push yourself away from him. Chenle cringes at how the words that came out of his mouth must sound to you.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“We caused this, Chenle.”

“No. What I’m trying to say is that it's not our fault. My dad should have never released that report because of what we did. That’s not fair to us.” Chenle thinks back to the words his father told him: “Look at what you made me do.” Neither of you did anything wrong, it was a few kisses. No one had any right to invade your privacy like this.

“Does it really matter now. That screwed my family over.” You wail out, “Nuvane is probably going bankrupt by the end of the year, Chenle. That’s it, I’m done after that. All because you couldn’t keep your lips to yourself” You spat out, the stress and anger shakes your shoulders and you feel like you could explode.

“Are you telling me you regret it.” Chenle asks as you stand up. He looks so small in front of you right now, but you’re too mad and embarrassed to care. “Because I don’t.” He finishes. Your head hurts too much and you were too confused to answer, which hurts Chenle, but he continues.

“We can still figure out what happened to those people in the picture-” You groan at the mention of the photograph, wiping the stubborn tears that fell down your neck.

“Chenle, do you think that’s what’s on my mind right now? I don’t think that what happened to those people can save anyone now.”

“We need to at least try, if we know where those people are we’ll have more than what we do now.”

“No, Chenle. I said I’m done, I mean it.” And with that, you put your coat and hat back on. “For the record, I didn’t regret kissing you. But now, I’m not so sure.” You turn and storm out of the work room, leaving Chenle’s heart worn out from your hasty confession.

The next day, Chenle approaches the mansion with the last of his hope. The electronic gates part and he drives through to the front entrance of the grand house. It snowed overnight, a hefty five inches covered the house and the yard; winter never looked more persistent than at this moment. Walking through the front door, an attendant leads him to a large tea room with light filtering in through the curtains and the smell of matcha mixed with old books fills the stagnant air. The man who Chenle is here to visit sits in a chair by a large window as he reads his book, his legs crossed and glasses perched on his nose. The attendant who led him here introduces Chenle, but the man does not pay any attention. Chenle gives the attendant a confused look but he walks away, leaving Chenle to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Well sit down, have some tea. Don’t stand there like a log.” Chenle is startled by the man’s voice but does what he is told, and the man continues to look at his book. “What are you here for, Chenle.”

“I have a question about one of your old classmates.”

“Which one?” Chenle reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, pulling up the picture he took months ago and handing it over to Paul Reitzer. Despite what Chenle told you months ago about visiting Mr. Reitzer, he had no idea who else could solve the mystery of these missing people. He sent you an apology through his head this morning; he knows you’re mad at him and he hopes you’ll forgive him for everything he has done. Mr. Reitzer nods as he looks at the picture.

“I was wondering, where are they?”

“You are very straightforward, you know that, Chenle? You also seem like you stay true to your word.” The comment sent Chenle off guard as he looks around the room in confusion, anywhere but at the man in front of him.

“I… guess?”

“I am about to answer a lot of questions for you, I will need something in return.” This makes Chenle sigh. People like him are always out for something. Although Chenle didn’t understand why this information is kept so tightly hidden, it was starting to be irritating.

“What do you need?”

“Just for you to promise not to say where you got this information from.” The man finally turns to Chenle, startling him at the sudden attention.

“I promise. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good.” The man stands up and walks to a bookshelf, running his fingertips over some spines before hooking a book with his finger and swiftly pulling it out. A photo album is set into Chenle’s hands with several pictures of the man in front of him and the two people from the photograph Chenle knew so well.

“Jun Zhong would be your uncle, and Lena Wilson was his girlfriend. We were close friends. All three of us were on the Forensics team, we spent almost all of college together.”

“They really did date.” Chenle continues to flip through the photos. They seemed to begin at the beginning of college and continue through the years. Chenle watches as the three friends grew up picture after picture, holding trophies, eating food, and simply sitting around, laughing.

“Yes, they did. For a long time. I thought they were perfect for each other, I wished I could fight and quarrel about stupid little things with someone and still embrace them in my arms and laugh it all off in the end. It is a special type of love that you should not let go.” The words rang through Chenle’s head, his heart suddenly heavy as thoughts of you invade his mind.

“Their parents never liked the two of them dating, and they never wanted to be the heirs of their family company. They tried to run away.” Chenle looks up in shock. Run away? Is that why they never graduated from Carlston? “They failed.” Mr. Reitzer finishes and Chenle gulps at the ominous words.

“What do you mean?”

“They ran away in the middle of the night before New Years Eve. They slid on some black ice on their way out of town and crashed into a tree. The car caught on fire.” He collects the photos from Chenle as he sits back in shock. Chenle has more thoughts running through his mind, but one rose above the rest: He understood why they would want to run away. If you ask Chenle about his future four months ago, he would’ve proudly told you he wanted to be the President of Zhongcology. Now, Chenle could only think about how his father lied to him and blamed him for your family’s downfall. He would be anything but proud and happy to take over the family company.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” Chenle stands up and backs out of the door, an absentminded “thank you” leaving his lips as he practically runs out of the house to his car and throws himself into the driver’s seat as his mind races with ideas. The death of both of these people has to be the reason the fight between his parents and yours started- Chenle was sure of it. He shakingly picks up his phone, calling you over and over again. Once he realizes you aren’t going to pick up, he flings his phone into the passenger seat and speeds home.

Step 3: When you are confronted with an opponent, conquer him with love

The gala is in full swing. The chandelier shining over the whole foyer, where people of high social status roam with their respective plus ones on their arms. Several people showed up for the last big hurrah of Nuvane. It was surprising how many of these people were trash talking your family’s company only weeks ago, but can turn around and flash a charming smile at your mother and father when they bring up giving away the assets of the company. It was your parents’ last way of making some fast money before shutting down production of Nuvane products. The company your family has built from the ground up decades ago will soon crumble, and you can’t help but be confused; Chenle was right, this isn't your fault. Then why did you feel so guilty?

Your royal blue Dolce and Gabbana dress cinches your waist and your Cartier diamond earrings are as heavy as your broken heart. You stay near your parents the whole night, the memories of what happened several days ago with Chenle repeating through your mind on a loop as you mindlessly talk to people who come up to you. You have yet to tell your parents the new information that Chenle told you, not really sure how to bring it up and scared of the consequences when you do. Suddenly, attention turns towards the front doors as the Zhongs enter. You nervously crane your neck to look for Chenle, but when you don’t see him walking with his father and mother you quickly lose interest. The inquiring eyes from other guests glance over as they walk up to your mother and father to start “friendly” conversation.

Attention is drawn to the front doors as they open once again, this time louder and not as elegant. The sip you took of your bubbly drink almost spews out of your mouth as Chenle runs in, tuxedo disheveled and his new brazenly-dyed orange hair making him stand out from everyone else. The room quiets down as Chenle shuffles through the people scattered around to reach you, his eyes looking at you only. He can’t help but admire how beautiful you look, the light from the room makes your skin glow and the color of your lipstick makes Chenle hungry for more kisses. Your heart lifts in your chest when he’s only a few steps away, he has the same look in his eyes as the day he approached you in the library. Liwei calls out before Chenle gets too close.

“Chenle! Don’t you dare take another step.” His voice booms throughout the foyer. Chenle’s familiarity made you want to dive into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and hide from it all, but you remember the last conversation you had. You were probably not his favorite person right now, but the past week spent without him, knowing that you said the things that you did out of anger and not truth, was killing you. You need him to know you didn’t mean it. He was so close, yet so far.

“Stop all of this. I know why you and the Y/L/N’s are fighting.” Quiet murmurs fill the previous silence and you try to get Chenle’s attention, but it’s no use as he walks towards both of your families. You watch his adam’s apple move as he gulps, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else notices his nerves.

“Your brother, Jun and your sister, Lena… I know all about them.” Chenle continues, “How they dated in college, how they tried to run away, how they died in that horrible car accident.” Your eyes widen along with the rest of the audiences at Chenle’s story.

“Lele… Is it true?” You whisper to him coming closer, until your mother grabs your wrist and pulls you away.

“Yes, Clover. It’s all true.” You never would’ve guessed that stupid nickname would make you feel relieved, but somehow you relax under Chenle’s soft gaze.

“Can you please control your son.” Your mother’s voice raises over the voices of the chattering guests. Liwei approaches Chenle and grips his elbow, pulling him away as if the strong grip could contain Chenle’s wrath and confidence.

“No.” He pushes himself away from his father. “What is all this fighting for? These decades of hating each other, what has it accomplished? Has it brought Jun and Lena back? Has it made you feel better about yourselves?” Chenle accuses.

“How did you even find out about this. What have you been telling him.” Your father points an accusatory finger at the Zhongs and they turn to Chenle for an answer. Everyone leans in to listen, and Chenle suddenly doesn’t feel as confident or big as before.

“I… can’t say.” The crowd grumbles at Chenle’s answer and he looks at you again. You know this look; he’s asking you to trust him- to have faith in him.

“I have been trying to figure out who Jun and Lena were.” You speak up and your mother and father looking at you in shock. “With Chenle. We’ve been doing it… together.”

“That’s what we were supposed to be doing in those pictures.” Chenle whispers to his father, but the comment was overheard by your father.

“Pictures? What pictures?” Your eyes widen.

“Chenle.” You hiss quietly, and he gives you a pointed look.

“You didn’t tell them about the pictures?”

“Not yet!” You hiss back. After a moment of silence, Liwei’s low laughter fills the foyer.

“Oh, the pictures? You mean the ones of you two in the library? Chenle pushing you against the bookshelves, kissing each other? Or the ones of what you did in the car afterward-”

“Stop.” Chenle whispers, but the crowd’s reaction covers up his voice.

“You sick bastard!” Your mother shrieks.

“Y/N… Is this true?” Your father asks. You bite your lips and try to look away, but the betrayal in your father’s eyes is too strong for you. Despite that, you don’t feel guilty anymore. Maybe it’s because Chenle still seems to be on your side, or maybe it’s because of the fact that the family feud had been about something as unstoppable and unfixable as the death of your relatives.

“Yes, it’s true.” You stand your ground.

“I thought we raised you better than that. I am so disappointed in you.” The quiet anger your father radiates sends a chill of fear through your spine, but is quickly replaced by the stuffy feeling of wanting to cry. It was unfair; other than meeting each other behind your parents’ backs, which was something you were forced into doing, you and Chenle didn’t do anything wrong. You were about to retaliate before your father held up a hand.

“I’ve had enough. I can’t let this continue, not with what our family is going through right now.”

“Dad…”

“No, you need some time away from all this, it’s obviously made you lose your mind. You’ll be staying with your grandparents from now on.”

“What!” You yell out, “You mean… in Canada?” The look your father gives you makes you assume you are right and your jaw drops. You couldn’t believe he thinks you’re the crazy one. You have not lost your mind, if anything, you see more clearly than before.

“No, wait, sir-” Chenle spoke up when he realizes that your father was serious about sending you away. The chatter of the audience rose when your mother tries to push you out of the room. Chenle reaches forward to grab onto any part of you that he could, but you could only send him a pleading look at you’re whisked up the stairs and Chenle is held back.

“Chenle, let’s leave.” His mother spoke from behind him, but he’s still trying to understand the events of what just happened. Your parents were really going to send you off to some other country, just like that? And for what, some pictures that were taken of you and him?

Chenle turns and runs out of the house, grabbing his coat and scarf along the way. He runs on the path that led around to your backyard garden, jumping over ice chunks as he rushes through your lawn. Once he reaches the area of your backyard under your bedroom window, he yells out your name, his voice cracking from the cold. When there’s no response, he gathers up some snow and throws it at your window.

The window opens a few moments later, your head peeking out.

“Clover!” Chenle yells again, this time in relief. “Let’s go.” He calls out.

“What?” You answer.

“I said let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere, somewhere other than this place. Those people are crazy, Clover. They want to send you to Canada! C’mon, we can find somewhere to go. I know you might hate me, but I can’t stand the thought of leaving you here with these people. You don’t deserve this kind of life.” Chenle calls up to you.

“I’m sorry!” You shout down to him, and Chenle squints in confusion.

“Why?”

“What I said, about regretting that kiss. I don’t regret it, not one bit. I was just… angry and embarrassed.” The cold, winter air stills around Chenle as he digests your confession. “I don’t hate you, Lele. I think… It may be the opposite.” He felt tears prick at his eyes as he looks up to you, your upper body hanging out of the window as you shout your confession.

“Do you trust me? Because I trust you. Fuck, this might be the wrong time to be telling you this, but here I go.” Chenle sighs and you lean a bit farther out of the window to hear him.

“I think all the shitty things we have been taught about our families have been... untaught by spending so much time together. Not just untaught, I relearned. I learned how the things I once hated about you, that those are the things I love now. Yeah, I love you. And if you leave for Canada I know there’s not a chance I’ll ever see you again. I’d rather take the chance to get out of this city than to stay here without you.” Delicate snowflakes fall from the dark sky as Chenle confesses his love to you, laying it all out for you to either catch or throw away. You can't believe what you’re about to say, but you want it, too. You want to get out of this town and go. Most importantly, you want to do it with Chenle.

“Okay... Let’s go.”

Your elegant dress is thrown down onto your bedroom floor as you change into jeans and a sweater, not giving the room a second glance as you climb down the side of your house. The flimsy coat you grabbed before leaving barely did anything to keep you warm, but you keep running through the forest behind your backyard like you can’t feel the frostbite nipping at your skin. The trees in front of your path were only illuminated by the moon and the stars, your breath fogging in front of you as the small specks of snow land on your hair and eyelashes. Despite the burning of your lungs and muscles, the cold snow that reaches halfway up your shins keeps you cold.

“Chenle, wait. Slow down.”

“No, we don’t have time.” The rising of your knees to run through the snow was tiring and Chenle’s hand that tightly held yours practically pulls you through it all. Chenle looks behind him at your freezing figure, suddenly stopping despite his previous words. He takes off his scarf, wrapping it around your exposed neck and tucking it into your coat.

"Lele, you're gonna freeze." You say, noticing how his neck is now exposed, his skin turning more pale than usual.

"I'll be fine, as long as you're okay, Clover." The words warm you up, but you don’t get another second of rest as Chenle grabs your hand and pulls you further through the forest; you’re not sure if he knows where he’s going, but you trust him. Eventually, the sound of passing cars pulls Chenle into one direction, and you’re thrown out of the forest and onto a highway. Chenle pulls you down the street until you see the sight of his familiar car haphazardly parked on the side of the road.

He hastily retrieves his keys from inside his tuxedo jacket and opens the passenger door. He helps you in and buckles your seatbelt, grabbing the sides of your cold cheeks with his numb fingers and pressing his lips to yours for just a second before pulling away. His lips sends warmth through you that makes running through a snowy forest and the cold you’ll get later worth it. Before he can get too far, you grab his hands and pull him back.

“I love you, too.” You confess. “I can’t believe you said it first.”

“I’ll never let you live it down, Clover.” He grins, and leans in again, pressing his lips to yours several more times, relishing in the simple fact that it’s something he can do now, without restraint- without the eyes of anyone watching. He closes your door and rounds the car to the driver’s side, starting the car and driving onto the highway. You and Chenle drive out of town, to the next city, and the next one after that- not stopping until the sun rises and you don’t know where you are. For once, the car is not filled with silence, but of music from the radio that’s turned all the way up, of Chenle’s shrieking laughter as you tell him story after story from your childhood, and of your kisses that you press to his hands to warm them up.

City after city, one highway to the next, your hand on his over the middle console. The nerves of a pair of runaway covered by the beating of your heart, thumping with adrenaline, love, and contentment. You are free.

Indeed, keep your friends close but your enemies closer; until your enemy becomes your friend, and that friend becomes your lover: this is the intricate art of being enemies.

»»————-✧༺♥༻♛༺♥༻✧————-««

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silent-silver-slip · 3 years

Note

For the behind the scenes asks: 1, 4, 16, 18?

Me? Buzzing with excitement to respond to an ask? Always! Thank you for asking lovely. ♥️♥️♥️ I am somewhat sorry for such a long post, but I am incapable of writing small things it appears.

1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Oh god, I think it was Harry Potter? I started out with original works before branching into fanfiction, so I’m not certain though.

4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

This one’s a bit up in the air to be honest! Sometimes I outline and sometimes I don’t. Almost always, I never outline anything under like 5k, which is normally written with a basic idea that keeps growing. There are also a number of longer things that I’ve done before that didn’t really have an outline either (some of my novellas happened this way). However, a number of my longer works do get an outline - either beginning with one or I hit a roadblock and begin to sketch an outline out and then it ends up being massive and more than I expected.

Parts of my outline go into depth and parts don’t, so as a result I usually keep pretty close to it. Occasionally an extra scene or a side character will take over a bit, but usually it’s very very close which is nice and helpful.

16. What is your most underrated fic?

Oh no, decisions. [I then leave this question blank, and forget to come back to it...] Okay, so I went back and started going through my fics and I was in struggle town, let me tell you.

In the end, I picked up two main ones that I think are my most underrated ones?

There’s the broken bones of our childhood which is an HP fic and actually sparked a piece of writing that got published online in the AZE which is neat. And the other is Everybody Knows (the deal is rotten) which is a Naruto fic that’s based on Orpheus and Eurydice and their legend, but is about family instead. One of these I appreciate because of the meaning behind it and it’s writing style, and the other was a lot of fun to write and I’m pretty proud of it.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Firstly, this assumes I remember anything I write and it doesn’t just vanish from my brain straight away. I barely know what I did yesterday, let alone an actual scene or line I wrote.

I’ve been staring at a few passages for a while, and this is awful I cannot make decisions. However! I figured I’d go with one that I haven’t mentioned in an ask response before and also isn’t too tricky to explain and comes with a good explanation? And fit my current mood I guess.

This scene comes from tonight’s our time which is a Naruto fic. It was a short fun piece to write and definitely related to something I felt back in summer. My comments are in italics.

And she reaches out, offering her hand, and Minato grips it, tight. Their hands are sweaty and gross, because of the weather and how it’s somehow still humid even as the sun sets, streaking the sky with pale purples and pinks and oranges. (Fuck yeah, I love the sunset! And the sunrise! The sky just looks so pretty almost all the time okay. But also - just the idea of people reaching out to each other even when it’s uncomfortable because they want to and they love each other regardless?)

The sky, however, is not what Kushina or Minato pay attention to. Rather, then launch forward, uncoordinated and laughing, towards where the sprinklers send water over the grass and pavement, turning it dark. (The idea of not paying attention to the sky because someone else is there and more important, more beautiful, definitely strikes a cord with me. And launching forward, laughing and unbalanced and just complete chaos? I can imagine it and it feels so good? Just letting go and- and I don’t even know, living, I suppose.)

They don’t go through the edges of the sprinkler, where the water’s a mist and light, they run through the worst of it, laughing and holding hands. Immediately, they’re soaked, clothes plastered to their skin as droplets of water run down their arms and faces and necks. Minato’s hair falls over his eyes whilst Kushina has flyaway strands finally pinned down, and she rubs a hand across her forehead, shoving them to the side so they stop irritating her. (Not gonna lie, this was partially me just working on descriptions, but hey. If it’s hot and humid and gross even at like 8.30pm, hell yeah I’m gonna run through the worst bit of the sprinkler if my friend wants too as well. That weather is gross and you’re dying, okay? Trust me on that one, it’s not fun. But, well, to meet up with a friend after so long, there’s not much I won’t do.)

Now out of the sprinkler, they turn. The weather no longer feels so hot and muggy. It’s cool and warm and the perfect temperature, even though their clothes have darkened with water and their hair will definitely turn fuzzy. (More description stuff.)

Looking at each other, they laugh, loud and wild and happy. This is, undoubtedly, what life is all about. Laughing and living, looking at each other and grinning. They’re adults but that doesn’t mean they have to leave childish acts behind them. (They’re just so happy!! They’re in their like twenties and they’re “adults” but they’re having such a fine time and they’re loving and happy and it’s just glorious. This is what we all deserve, okay? Around work and uni and life in general - we deserve to be happy and loving and loved in return, laughing and glorious and far frome alone.)

Because of the challenges I had figuring it out, there are a few of the ones I was tossing up beneath the line.

My favourite bits are in bold.

Scene from i don’t believe that love was made to break:

“Hey look,” Reggie says, “the sun’s rising.” And it is, painting the sky with colour. The sun itself is a circle of orange and the lake is fractured by every golden ray, colours rippling across the water.

Yet not one of them watches it. Instead, they are caught by each other. How the sun makes them glow. How the light gentles their faces. How they smile at each other.

The day grows warmer, the sun goes higher, and they are trapped in a single moment, aware of the way they are pressed up against each other, the way they are happy, the way they are loving without reserve.

Scene from the sea isn’t yours but you’re still the sea’s which may or may not be an AU of my own AU:

Sometimes kindness is an innate part of us, sometimes it’s there regardless of whether or not we know it. Sometimes kindness is apologising and saying ‘What can I do to help?’ Sometimes kindness is helping when help isn’t wanted but needed anyway.

In one world, there would be an information network growing in the shadows, spreading further and further with no one aware of it but one boy. In another world, there is no information network growing, but something else grows instead—hands stretching out, faces looking down. Kindness shared is kindness that can be passed on. Small things can stack, one on top of the other, and sometimes they lead to massive changes that are unforeseen. When a boy extends his hand out to a homeless child, she reaches back cautiously, but their story will end in trust and loyalty, (always).

Scene from Wayfinders‘ epilogue:

“This is what it means to be human.” The words seem to shock everyone and Toru smiles as he watches heads turn to one another, muttered discussion growing once again. “It is human to fight when the odds are against you,” he says. “It is human to say ‘we will keep living’ when it seems impossible. It is human to find a way to survive when an army marches towards you.

“It is human to fight. Sometimes this is against another opponent in a test of strength and sometimes it is against grief that threatens to overwhelm you. Sometimes you fail. Sometimes you fall. Sometimes you bow your head and give up. But you are not alone. Someone will reach ask if you’re alright. Someone will gift you a kind word. Someone will reach out a hand. There will always be someone reaching out a hand.

“A new era is dawning,” Toru lifts his chin, looks not to everyone below but to the sun overhead, shining down. “A new era is dawning and it is not one of war. It is one of peace, of love, of acceptance. It is one of kindness, of family, of friendship.” He smiles. “I speak not only to my people now, but to all of you. Let us remember hope, in times of hardship. Let us remember kindness, in times of cruelty. And let us remember to reach out and lift one another up high for you are never alone.”

(There are so many things Toru wants to say. He wants to engrave the lessons he learnt into people’s skin. He wants them to know what he does, that kindness is not a flaw, that mercy is not a weakness. But they will only learn that in time. And they have the time. They have the opportunity. Toru will see that they have all the time in the world.)

(In the end, there is only one village that hears the words Toru does not say. One full of ghosts and laughing people. One full of refugees and fighters. One full of survivors and graves. Uzushio hears him and hears what he says with every word that escapes his lips.)

(The sea will never die.)

#ask #zazujoy #ask game response

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mobagehelllocal · 4 years

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“dati” ver i & ii extra notes:

It’s like 6 am and I can’t sleep. I kept thinking about this and I know I won’t be asked so I sort of want to do this for all my other works too so here we go!

*Please do not read this if you haven’t read “dati” ver i and ii!

Originally I was planning on just making mirror houses to NRC... but I thought that was boring so I didn’t. I instead chose to mix and match the Princess personalities with the Villains.

Special Easter egg, The Garden Academy’s Professor Radcliffe is actually Professor Crewel’s childhood friend too. The name Radcliffe actually came from the human owners of the 101 Dalmatians. Apparently Cruella and the wife (Anita if I remember correctly) went to school together? I thought it be cute.

Yuu and Grim actually exist in this AU. My plan for them was to subtly imply they were sleeping over at whoever’s dorm the Reader was in because Crowley borrowed Ramshackle for the Garden Academy. (Don’t worry he made it pretty) Unfortunately the pieces got way too long and I couldn’t mention Yuu or Grim anymore.

Most of these stories are meant to imply a possible romance later on... if anyone would like to request for a sequel haha 😂

I started on Riddle’s piece first but stopped it halfway to start Leona’s. I finished Leona’s, then went back to Riddle’s only to get an idea for Malleus. I finished Malleus then finished Riddle’s. Vil’s went next—which was a first for me. I normally delay Vil as much as possible. Azul was finished in one go after, followed by Idia then Kalim. Kalim is steadily becoming a more difficult character to write because I’m having a hard time finding depth beyond his happy personality. I need to do more research.

Riddle’s MC comes from House Cosmos, so Snow White. I did think about using House Rose (Belle) or House Zinnia (Cinderella) for him. I eventually settled on Cosmos because I wanted a cheerful, optimistic MC for Riddle who won’t pressure him but would cheer him on.

Unlike the other stories, Riddle’s MC texted Trey—since she didn’t know Riddle was studying at NRC.

I knew from the get go that I wanted a House Peach Blossom (Mulan) or House Thistle (Merida) for Leona. I went between both for awhile before finally decided on Peach Blossom because it suited the bodyguard concept more. Leona’s MC admired and watched Leona as they grew up together. Her becoming his bodyguard was her idea of protecting Leona and his dreams.

Leona had assumed that she wanted to be noticed by Farena and made his second wife. Lions often have more than one mate... apparently. I’m not so sure about how this goes in the Twisted Wonderland verse.

One of the lines in Leona’s story: “This is the king I know he is, the king I see inside.” is actually paraphrased from Can You Feel the Love Tonight. Specifically Nala’s parts: “He's holding back, he's hiding/ But what, I can't decide/ Why won't he be the king I know he is/ The king I see inside?”

Azul’s story was originally supposed to include the Eel twins. When the MC goes to save Azul—the twins were supposed to be there with him. When she almost drowns, she was also going to be saved by the Eel twins... but I thought it would be better narratively for Azul to do it so I had to put aside my Poly!Octavinelle agenda. Unfortunately 😭

Azul’s MC’s unique magic “[I am the Ocean]” is meant to be linked to Moana’s song “I am Moana.” I was originally going to make her chant the lyrics but I would’ve wanted to put everything in so I decided not too 😂 It would be nice to incorporate her singing the song before she could activate her magic though 🤔

Azul’s MC... I chose House Hibiscus (Moana) primarily because I wanted the MC to have a super powerful unique magic in relation to the Ocean—like how the Ocean was always helping Moana out in her movie. Her unique magic is actually inspired by Fairy Tail’s Juvia Lockser’s Water Body magic.

Azul’s scene was also inspired from Percy Jackson’s the Titan’s Curse. Percy rescued a sea cow—except in Azul’s story he was the sea cow... (｡･ ω<)ゞ

Kalim’s story was the last I wrote and was the hardest one because like I said... I’m having a difficult time looking for depth in Kalim’s character. Kalim’s MC... I definitely debated on the house I would use. I think I reconsidered Zinnia (Cinderella) again before I ultimately settled on Water Lily (Tiana).

Kalim’s story was based on a personal experience of mine. I had a friend I met on this online game we played about... 10 years ago? The internet wasn’t as efficient as it is today so we had a difficult time keeping contact until we eventually just stopped talking. I recently found them online again though, so that was pretty heartwarming!

I’m starting to vibe with the idea of Poly!Scarabia lmao. Especially with how often Jamil ends up in Kalim’s scenarios.

I normally have a really difficult time writing Vil’s stories, but this one came to me pretty easily! I immediately wanted to pair Vil with a House Chrysanthemum (Rapunzel) student.

I thought it would be cute that they were both very into art except expressed it differently. The image I had in my head was the cover art for the manga “Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan”. With Vil as the model and his MC having been the one to paint him/style him. A personal headcanon is that Vil and MC collabs on a palette together.

Rook was a little... mean in this one, but tbh if he could tell Vil he was gaining weight with no hesitation then... I assume Rook is really like this.

Idia would’ve been the hardest one to write... except I discovered one of my favourite voice actors voiced Idia and I went ham. 😂 (I love the way Uchiyama Kouki drawls)

Idia was one of the instances wherein I for sure wanted to put him with someone who was his complete opposite—hence House Eglantine (Aurora).

If it wasn’t obvious, MC actually is really crushing hard on Idia. She thinks it’s unrequited 😂 She fell in love with him while he was telling her about his games. She was so used to fake people, that when she got Idia talking about his passions and seeing the way that lit him up? She was a goner.

House Eglantine almost went to Riddle or Vil actually! Glad I saved it for Idia because I really think their story is my favourite 😂 It’s cute.

Malleus is always written as romantic and as dreamy as possible. I always end up using insane amounts of metaphors and descriptions for him. My writing tends to go classical for him. 😂

Malleus’s scenario is inspired by this quote from the book “All My Lonely Islands”— "I feel like you're Aurora before she became Sleeping Beauty. You're in the woods and you are surrounded by a supernatural light, and you're singing a spectacularly robust song about Dreams Coming True. And I am a squirrel hiding from behind a tree, mesmerized by you. I’m waiting for other woodland creatures to surround you so I could slip among them and be unnoticed.”

To be a childhood friend of Malleus means that she has to be pretty old too 😂 Hence why I chose House Sage (Pocahontas). The MC is meant to be a descendant of the Grandma Willow.

I was going to write a scene with Sebek in it, but Sebek would’ve made it even longer lmao.

My favourite houses are Zinnia (Cinderella), Eglantine (Aurora), Peach Blossom (Mulan) Chrysanthemum (Rapunzel) and Sage (Pocahontas). I’d probably be in Chrysanthemum though.

I chose Flowers for dorm names because I’m really fascinated with the flower language.

#aimuses #ainotes #ai tga verse #ai dati series

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nicole-lynne · 4 years

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Hints of Red

This is my entry for @mummybear‘s 1500 Follower Celebration. Congratulations babe! You totally deserve each and every one of them! My post was inspired by the song Better Man by Westlife and I am so excited about it!

Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader Warnings: Cussing, Implied violence, Drinking

Description: Klaus deals with the aftermath of his actions and is haunted by memories of the past

Klaus gripped the glass of bourbon tightly, balancing it on his knee. It was his sixth. The ticking of the clock was echoing in the room and with each tick, he was falling deeper into a void. Across the room, there was a little strip of light streaming in through the crack in the curtains, warming a book with a worn, red cover on the corner of the table.

Her favorite book.

He couldn’t move his eyes off of it, instead, replaying the last time she’d picked it up and had read aloud to him while he painted in the corner. She had been draped across the chaise in one of his old shirts and it felt impossible to keep his focus on the canvas.

Reading was like second nature to her, her voice melodic and sweet, giving him solace that he had never felt before her. He wished that they could relive this day after day, her reading and his painting.

Now the only sound was the ticking of the clock.

It was taunting him. Making it clear that he was left alone to wallow in his own self-destruction. He wanted to scream or throw something, but that wouldn’t change his situation. So he shot back the rest of his drink, the burn warm and familiar. Then he poured another one.

“You look like you could use another drink.”

Klaus turned his head, a deep frown on his face, to find a girl on the stool next to him. She had her hair piled on top of her head and wore a bright red dress shirt with a tiny little nametag from a restaurant across the street. Her head was tilted up towards him and there was a small smile twitching at the corner of her lip. His first instinct was to blow her off but that would take more energy than he had to give.

“Or two.” He finally said, swirling the liquid around the glass.

“It should be against the law for a Friday to be bad.”

Klaus was silent. He didn’t care much about this girl’s bad day. In a swift motion, he shot back the bourbon and gestured to the bartender. “Two more, please?”

The bartender poured the drinks and set them down in front of Klaus. He paused for a moment before lifting one of the glasses and setting it down in front of the girl with a loud thunk. She raised a brow quizzically and Klaus shrugged it off and picked up his own glass.

“Don’t say a word.”

She hid a snicker behind her hand at his annoyed expression but still pulled the glass closer, examining the contents like it might explode.

“Watch this.” She leaned in and whispered.

Suddenly, she was lifting herself over the bar and reaching for the spray nozzle. She clicked the button and started filling the cup with Dr. Pepper. Then she snatched up a lemon and squeezed the lemon, squirts of the juice flicking across the surface, before popping a bright red cherry on the top and sitting back down, a look of pride on her face.

Klaus studied her with an amused expression, “well now you’ve ruined a perfectly good drink.”

Her jaw dropped a little in shock. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I made the bourbon even more tolerable.” She shoved it towards him excitedly. “Just try it and you’ll see.”

“I would never drink that filth in a thousand years.” He scoffed, offended that she would suggest that he drink the sugary disgrace.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her deflate at his dismissal and reach for the glass. For some strange reason, it made him a little sad to see her disappointed. Sooner than she could move it away, Klaus’s hand shot out to stop her. She looked up at him with wide eyes, holding her breath to see what he would do next. Had she offended him by refusing the straight liquor?

“I suppose one little taste wouldn’t kill me. Although it may tarnish my reputation for drinking such rubbish.” A glimmer of teasing behind his eyes.

“I have a feeling your reputation can handle it.” She joked back but still let him take the drink from her hand. “I’ll try it your way if you don’t like it.”

Klaus eyed the drink warily and brought it to his lips and took a sip. The refreshing taste hit his tongue and he had to force himself to keep a straight face. While he always enjoyed the heat that tinged his throat as a good bourbon slid down to warm his belly, this was a more light taste as the liquor mixed with the fizzy soda.

She had a crinkle on her nose as she cheerfully watched for a reaction and he couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of her eyes on him. He mulled over his thoughts for a long moment, trying to decide what he should say. The longer he waited, the more intense her gaze became and she leaned in closer and closer until a grin grew on his face.

“I knew it!” She whooped, gently shoving his shoulder a little bit.

Klaus laughed loudly, louder than he had in months. Somehow, this girl who had inserted herself into his evening of pity had made him feel better than any of his family had in a long time. These days, they were the ones causing his trouble and he was sick of trouble. But she’d brought a smile to his face.

“Okay, so it wasn’t the drivel I thought it would be, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a nice stiff drink.”

“Just admit that you liked it better, I know what I’m doing. It’s like a superpower I have.”

He tilted his head inquisitively, “what, always being right?”

“Well, that’s a give in,” She gave him a cheeky wink, “no, I can always tell what alcoholic drink someone will like. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on you, that you’re a bourbon cherry smash kinda guy.”

“Wow, you’ve really got me pegged, haven’t ya?” Klaus was pleasantly surprised that he was enjoying the banter they’d started. “I’m Klaus, by the way.”

All his problems of the day were starting to melt away as this fragile, human girl was babbling on about different drinks that were ‘totally underrated and yummy’ although he wasn’t following a word of it, rather he was caught up in the sparkle of her eyes and the way her hands were waving around eccentrically.

Time seemed to move quicker when he was talking to her, and suddenly, hours had passed seamlessly. The bartender was calling out for the last call and they exchanged a look of disbelief, still caught up in the story she was telling about her childhood iguana.

“Could I walk you home?” He asked, attempting to sound casual.

“That’d be great,” she slid off the bar stool, “let me pay my tab and we can go.”

“It’s alright, love, it’s on me.” She opened her mouth to protest but he held his hand out to her, “And don’t try to argue, it’s already taken care of.”

Wordlessly, she slipped her hand into his and let him lead her out of the bar. The night air was cool against her heated skin and they strolled along, enjoying the sounds of jazz music floating down the streets from open windows.

“That was really sweet of you to take care of my bill, Klaus, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It was my pleasure. I wanted to thank you for being the only person in a long time to put a smile on my face. It’s not an easy feat.”

Giving him a bashful smile, she squeezed his hand. “I like your smile, I hope I get to see it more.”

How much time had passed?

He hadn’t moved except to refill his drink. Anything else proved to be too difficult. The canvas in the corner was left untouched, the doors and windows closed tight to keep out the sound of the compound, his family had scattered for various reasons. There was nothing to motivate him from moving from his spot on the couch.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the feeling of her arms around him, holding him tight to her chest as she ran her fingers through his hair. He could feel her chest rising and falling underneath him, lulling him into serenity.

No one would have ever guessed that a delicate human could be the only real comfort for the original hybrid. But she never judged him, never expected him to be anything other than who he was. It was the thing he loved most about her. She saw the real him behind all the walls he’d spent years building.

Maybe that was the problem. She could see into the very depths of his soul, see through every lie when he’d messed up, see what he was even when he’d tried to hide it. And he wasn’t sure if he liked that.

“Do you know what today is? Nik, are you listening to me?”

Truthfully, he’d been so caught up in the sight of her bare skin that he’d barely heard her honey voice ask him the question. He raised his head slowly to meet her eyes, blushing at the playful grin she gave him.

“Forgive me, love,” He lifted her arm, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of her wrist, and he smiled when he felt the chill run down her body. Still so affected by his touch. “Now, pray tell, what is today?”

“Today is one year from when we met.” She twirled her finger around one of his curls lazily, basking in the warmth of the sun pouring in from the open balcony door.

“No, that couldn’t be. Are you sure you’re not thinking of another one of your boyfriends?”

“Niklaus Mikaelson!” She shoved him futilely and he tightened his hold on her waist. Relenting to his strength, her bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “You’re a real fool if you think for one second I could be with anyone but you-”

She was cut off by Klaus connecting his lips to hers firmly. Involuntarily, her resolve disappeared and she sunk into the kiss. She’d felt his lips a thousand times before, yet each time she felt like a melted popsicle in the summer sun.

Much before she was ready to let go, he was pulling away with a clever grin. “My dear, I was just teasing you. Do you truly believe I would allow another man to have what is mine? Or that I would forget the most important day of my life?”

Words were lost to her at his question. He chuckled at her dazed expression before raising off the bed, letting the white silk sheets fall back over her curves. She took the chance to admire the tensing muscles of his back all the way down to the perfect curve of his bare backside as he walked across the room. In the blink of an eye, he was back at her side, slipping under the sheets and tangling his legs with hers.

“Nik, you know it startles me when you do that.”

“Well how do you expect me to get around, love?” He quipped.

“You could walk to and from like a normal person instead of speeding around like a hot rod.” Laughs mixed with hot kisses against her neck as he held her flush against his chest. He savored every little giggle that he was pulling from her.

“But then I wouldn’t get to see that funny little look on your face when I startle you. And it’s such a cute face. Besides, I haven’t got the time to waste by walking at a snail’s pace.”

She snorted, “you’re an original, Nik, you’ve got endless amounts of time. But I can tell you, if you keep whipping around here, you may lose me to a heart attack.”

Klaus’s nose traced yours lightly, “I wouldn’t want that, I’m going to be keeping you around for as long as you’ll have me. Don’t want to have that ruined by something as miniscule and human as a heart attack.”

Her heart warmed with his lovely words, she buried her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled the sweet scent of her love on his skin mixed with a hint of mahogany and bourbon. It would be impossible for her to ever be tired of that smell.

She trailed tiny kisses along his collar bone, hoping to stir something in him for a third time that day, but he took matters into his own hands, flipping her onto her back and he rolled on top of her.

“I have a gift for you, my sweet cherry.” His voice low in her ear and she shivered in anticipation.

Hastily, he sat up and tugged her into a sitting position. From the side of the bed, he revealed a small necklace box to her. She held it, shocked, her eyes darting between the box on her palm and Klaus’s face.

“Wha-what is it?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Zealously, she flipped open the lid to find a delicate ruby necklace on a gold chain, the sight taking her breath away. “Oh, Nik, it’s stunning. You shouldn’t have...”

“Hush now. You deserve more than anything I could ever give you but that won’t keep me from trying.” He trailed a finger down her cheek, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You are the love of my life and I will cherish you until my dying breath.”

He ghosted his lips against hers and then lifted the necklace out of the box, fastened it around the back of her neck. The ruby fell between her breasts like a beacon on her naked skin and he fell back onto his palms to get a better look.

“I am the luckiest man in the entire world to have the most perfect woman at my side.”

Red. That’s all he could see when he was angry. The red of blood dripping onto the cobblestones. The red of a raging fire consuming the land. The red of the very devil in his soul.

That was before.

Now all he could see was a different kind of red. The red of her cherry lollipop. The red of her camisole slipping down her shoulder. The red of the sunset from the last night he’d spent with her.

And then it was gone before he’d really had a chance to enjoy it. His heart clenched at the memory of that split second rage that burned his future to the ground. He wondered if she thought about him the same way or if he was only a distant memory to her now.

How much time had passed?

He wasn’t drunk, maybe close, but not drunk enough to forget what he wanted to forget. Instead, he was consumed by pain and sorrow. There was the overwhelming urge to cry, a feeling he’d never felt as strong in the years before her. Everything was different after her.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Klaus stormed into the compound, blood drenching the front of his white shirt. She followed hot on his heels, hollering obscenities the entire time. Her voice echoed off the walls, making his heart race with adrenaline and he was close to losing control.

“Enough!” He screamed as he whipped around to face her.

She shrunk back for a fraction of a second before moving to get in his face, her teeth grit together. “Why in the fuck would you do that, Nik?”

“Why were you following me in the first place? I told you to stay here!” He growled menacingly.

“I followed you because I had a bad feeling and I didn’t want you to get hurt.” She rammed the heels of her hands against his chest and he snarled. “You had no right-”

“I had every right! I’m the King and I can do what I want!”

She backed away, letting out a growl of frustration. “You pigheaded man!”

With a disgusting delight, he laughed like that was the most amusing thing he’d ever heard. Tonight, he was a different person. He was cold and nasty, refusing to see the part he had played in what had happened. The countless bodies that lay on the floor of Rousseau's at his and Marcel’s hand.

It had seemed like a good idea in the beginning, to follow him and make sure that the Faction didn’t outnumber him. She hadn’t the faintest clue what she could do as a human, but she loved him and she’d put up a hell of a fight.

What she hadn’t expected was to find Marcel and Klaus feasting on the poor bodies of the Faction, scattered across the floor of the bar like peanut shells. To see the man she loved tearing into people like an animal.

“They tried to make a mockery of me. I cannot stand for that!”

“Are you so worried about your reputation that you would kill mercilessly after you’ve worked so hard for redemption? Why is this so important to you, Nik?” She crossed her arms stubbornly, her wrath-filled gaze on him.

“Would you have me let them live after they have so clearly gone against me?” He spat the words out like poison. In his head, he knew he should stop, he should apologize, but his mouth was saying anything but.

This was pointless, she could see that now. All of the pain she’d buried had risen to the surface and she couldn’t go back to hiding it again.

“You’re not yourself, Nik. These past few months, you’ve changed. You’re callous and paranoid, driving away the people who are closest to you. I have loved you for years, watching you break and put pieces back together time after time, but I cannot figure out why this is the thing you’re willing to throw everything away for.”

He looked at her with a cold glare. “This is my home, my kingdom, and no one will stand in my way.”

“Well...” Her voice was a quiet whisper, “then I won’t stand in your way anymore.”

Those words stunned him and it became eerily silent. Klaus wanted to deny her, to fall at her feet and beg her to forgive him for all the months he had been cruel to her during this crusade for New Orleans.

His feet stayed frozen in place, his desires being overpowered by his pride.

Her eyes were filled with tears, begging him to say anything that would compel her to stay, anything that would show the man she’d fallen in love with still existed. After a few moments of silence, she reached to the back of her neck and unclasped the ruby necklace from their first anniversary.

They both stared at it dangling loose in the air. All their memories were captured in the gem like a time capsule. She let go of the necklace and it dropped to the ground, bouncing on the cobblestones until it came to a stop.

“Good-bye, Nik. I hope you enjoy your lonely kingdom.”

Turning sharp on her heel, she walked out of the compound, leaving him in the glow of the blood red moon.

There was only one thing to do, it had been in the front of his mind the whole time. Klaus wanted to go to her, to work through this fight and be able to hold her the way he used to.

Would she laugh at him? Did she hate him for everything he’d put her through over the years? Maybe he had worn her down until she couldn’t even stand to look at him, let alone be with him. Was it possible for her to ever love him the way she used to?

There was only one way to find out.

Klaus let the empty bottle fall onto the floor and roll away, clanking against the other discarded bottles. Forcing himself up, he took a shaky breath and wiped away the tears that had stained his cheeks. He was disheveled, his scruff grown longer than he usually let it and his shirt was wrinkled and stained.

Those things didn’t stop him though as he walked down the stairs and out the compound like he was in a stupor. He passed through the streets, the path to her being one he’d walked so many times since he’d walked her home on that first night.

Overhead, the moon shone bright like a lighthouse in the night. A full moon. It had been a month since he’d let her leave.

He hadn’t thought of what he might say and sooner than he’d realized, he was standing outside of her apartment. It was a mere ten steps away and he was losing the gumption he’d gained from the walk.

Stepping forward, again and again, and then his hand was knocking on the faded red door. He could hear the unmistakable sound of her footsteps coming towards the door. His heart stopped as the door swung open and she was in front of him. Her hair was back, with little strands falling against her neck, and she was wearing one of his old shirts with her little shorts peeking out from the edge.

She let out a little gasp of surprise at the sight of him. His immediate thought was that she was scared of him and that idea broke his heart even more.

“Nik...” He’d barely heard her voice above the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

“Hello, love.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

She was even more lovely than he could ever possibly remember. Klaus was speechless as he watched her glance out the door, waiting for something that might tell her this was a joke. Then she raised her eyebrow, waiting for an answer and he looked down at his feet nervously.

“I...I had to see you, I can’t stop thinking of you.”

Folding her arms tightly, she stepped back just enough to let him through the door, no invitation needed. He passed by her, brushing against her skin and the touch shot a spark down his spine, but she shifted her body back so he couldn’t touch her again.

The room was the same as the last time he’d been there, a fire blazing in the fireplace, with books scattered on every surface and a long-forgotten cup of tea cooling by the couch. There were little pieces of her everywhere that made him yearn to sink into its comforts.

“Is everything alright, Nik? Are you hurt?”

Her voice snapped him back to the present. “What?”

“I asked if you were hurt?” She was still lingering by the door, her arms wrapped around her body like she was trying to hold herself together.

“No, I’m not hurt. Physically, that is.” Klaus turned so that he was facing her directly. “I don’t know what to do without you. Every plan I’d ever made for the rest of my life included you and now...I’m just lost.”

Her face softened with understanding, realizing that he was hurting. “I get it...”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. We were together for so long, I don’t really know how to be alone.” She moved over to the couch and tucked her feet under her body, studying his face the whole time. That confession eased his own fears a little. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

“I’m not really sure...” He mumbled.

“Oh, Nik.” Reaching forward, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit down next to her. He settled into the cushions and let the familiar scent of her cover him. “You look so worn out, you need to rest.”

“I can’t rest, love. I can’t close my eyes without seeing the image of you walking away from me. I cannot rest until you understand how much I love you, how much I need you.” She let out a deep sigh, already shaking her head, but he continued before she could speak. “Please listen, understand, that I am nothing without you. I thought that winning New Orleans was what I wanted...”

“But?” She asked tentatively.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, praying to see forgiveness, “but I realized that all I want is you. You tried to tell me that it wouldn’t make me happy, but I was an idiot. I didn’t listen to you and when you left, I should have stopped you...”

When he’d first told her about who he truly was, he’d told her all of the ways he’d betrayed his family, all of the mistakes he’d made, and the feelings that lurked in the shadows of his mind. But he’d promised that he would never hurt her. In that promise, she saw the man that he was and everything they could be together.

“You broke my heart by letting me walk away. I kept thinking you would call out for me, ask me to stay, but you didn’t. Why are you coming to me now?”

“I thought that pride and reign of the city would be all I’d ever need. I was wrong...” Klaus took her hand apprehensively, expecting her to yank it away, but she didn’t. “For a thousand years I have been taught that control and fear are the best ways to get what I want. Then I met you, and you showed me that there was more to life. You helped me right the wrongs I had made. You made me want to be a better man.

“When I started this crusade for New Orleans, I lost sight of the man I wanted to be. I let my past creep back in and allowed it to twist our relationship into something ugly. For that, I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“It wasn’t only you...”

“Yes it was. Every day, you were fighting for me to be what you needed, and I failed you.”

Cautiously, she raised up and sat in his lap, sliding her arms around his neck just as he wrapped his around her waist. It was a position they’d been in so many times before but he couldn’t remember his heart beating as hard as it was right now.

“Listen to me, Nik, we all make mistakes. I’d say ‘we’re all human’ but that’s not exactly true.” She quipped. “But I never stopped believing in you. I know what kind of a man you are and the fact that you’ve been this torn up about it, makes it clear that you’ve changed.”

“Do you hate me?” He asked, his voice as quiet as a child being scolded.

Her thumb rubbed on the nape of his neck, considering the question. “I could never hate you, I love you.”

Tears shone in his crystal eyes, “can you ever forgive me?”

“I think I’m already starting to. I can’t picture my life without you and I don’t want to anymore.” A little smile teased on her lips and he’d never felt so happy to see her smile before.

“I vow to you that I will win your forgiveness and your trust. My life will be devoted to you and your happiness until my dying breath.”

She giggled, snuggling in closer to him and he held her tighter, afraid she might disappear. “That might be quite a long time.”

“Anything shorter than eternity will never be enough time with you, love.”

Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Butterflies erupted in his stomach at the sound of her heartbeat jumping erratically and he pulled her in deeper. They had missed out on so many kisses in just that month and he intended to make up for every one.

Overwhelmed, she drew back with a giddy look on her face. “That’s one thing I’ve definitely missed.” He snorted in agreeance.

“What about this?” He asked, slipping out her necklace from his pocket.

Her jaw dropped and she grabbed it quickly. “I never thought I’d get this back. Please don’t ever let me take it off again, Nik.”

“Never, darling.” He muttered before pressing a kiss to her temple and snuggling into the cushions, finally relieved to have his love back in his arms again.

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