#open to “magnolia” of course

[keter-class-anomaly]

I read your intro, which told me I have to do a drawing request. Here it is!: The self-ish dude using his four arms to eat soup, pet a cat, drive a car, and look up "magnolia" in the dictionary. Have a lovely day!

oh BOY

you really said" how can i make this as complicated as possible?"

i brought this upon myself.

HERE HE IS!

i thought the self-ish guy's car would be funky looking. :]

Thanks for the request!

[zorosdimples]

ITADORI YUUJI X READER ⟢ mdni. vaginal fingering + feelings.

The sky weeps plentifully, washing the horizon silver. Tears pelt the towering magnolia outside your window, pooling in pointed petals and veined leaves before overflowing, coursing downward to plink onto the sodden earth.

Your bedroom is the same shade of grey. But it’s warmer in here, shared breath and body heat keeping the room alive. The steady rainfall is drowned out by pleased sounds: fluttery whimpers to rival the whipping wind, heady moans more electric than lightning, groans that rumble deeper than thunder.

“One more—hm? Please?” Yuuji mumbles into your jaw, nipping at the flesh with his canines.

Two of his fingers caress you deeply, exploring your innermost heat with tender precision. It’s a day of rest, of respite, of falling apart beneath him over and over and over. His thumb teases your aching clit, coaxing you further toward the precipice, the rough pad of his digit an insistent pull that promises ecstasy.

The whole time (for hours, it feels) his eyes never leave your face, not even for a split second. Wells of sticky honey soak in every crinkle of your eyelid and twitch of your lip. The tiniest pockmark on your forehead and hair on your cheek is dear to him—a vital brushstroke in the art of your being.

There’s something that yawns within Yuuji, cracks his rib cage open and yearns—no, insists—on memorizing every aspect of you. He has always hungered, ever since he was a young boy. He hungered for love and connection and meaning and a full belly. But you stir something vital within him.

He wants to consume you; he wants to devour everything you do. The quirk of your brow and the tinkle of your laugh and the curve of you nail—they all pluck a chord within him that he didn’t know he had. It’s so innate, so in balance with his soul that he no longer knows what he would do without you. A part of you will forever live with him.

Nothing about you is unfamiliar to the sorcerer; perhaps he knows you better than you know yourself. It’s why he insists that you continue, why he has a knowing smile tucked into his lips when you cry out his name and dribble around his fingers. It’s why he allows you to greedily lick yourself up from his skin and settle into his lap, asking for more with a rock of your hips, asking for him.

[misted-dream]

♟️ between heaven and hell ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ bodyguard!winwin x fem!reader ➛ part of the mad city series | go to district V

content | smut, sprinkle of angst, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love but not really, forced proximity, a little bit of miscommunication, yn is mentioned to be shorter than winwin, slow burn?, winwin is kinda a dick at first

warnings | fingering, profanity, mentions of food, mentions of a shooting

word count | 18k

synopsis | being born into a repulsive fortune, your life is threatened more often than not. you’ve grown less and less affected by it throughout the years. however, as the day where you take on your father’s much coveted title looms nearer and nearer, more frequent and dangerous threats draw in. with all the money in the world, is it enough to buy trust?

note | ln stands for last name since yn is addressed by her last name quite a bit in this. the ending is a little bit rushed, pls excuse that and ignore the fact that this basically takes place in a week. what is pacing, idk.

tags @90s-belladonna thank you for supporting me!

a smattering of rain hits against the arched window pane of the library, filling the room with a soft pitter-patter. usually, from where you are seated, you can look directly into the well-kept and always blossoming garden. now, it’s too dark for you to make out anything but the slightest silhouette of your father’s treasured magnolia tree.

“miss ln?”

you direct your attention away from the book in your hands, and towards the library entrance that you had your back to.

“your father would like to speak with you.”

this late? you thought.

“thank you, priscilla,” you smile and your housemaid dismisses herself with a gentle nod. you glide your extended legs off of the couch and set down your book next to you on the velvet material of the sofa. sliding on your slippers, you make your way out of the library, softly close the door behind you, and amble along the long hallways and down the staircase leading to your father’s office.

you knock twice on the thick wooden doors painted in a pristine white. "come in," your father calls out. you apply pressure to the metal handle, cold to the touch, and the hinges creak slightly.

you greet your father, sat in his usual spot in the middle of the office with a floor-to-ceiling window to his back. then, something else catches your attention. a tall, backlit figure stands broadly next to your father. the room is illuminated by the moonlight and a gold accented lamp in the far corner, barely enough light to see 3 feet out in front of you clearly.

“yn,” your father addresses you faintly. you instinctively go to pull out one of the two leather seats tucked under the large, hand-carved wooden desk, its’ surface littered with documents and fountain pens. as you take a seat, your father begins, “as you know, your succession is planned for a little over a week, if all goes well. taking into account the latest incident, i have decided to take preventative measures to ensure no more dangers come to you during the lead-up.” your father pauses, his palm opens to gesture towards the man standing beside him. “this will be your new personal guard,” the man steps forward, “dong sicheng.”

confusion evidently sits upon your face. you want to flat out ask, ‘why do i need a bodyguard?’ but you bite back your tongue, trying to come up with a more eloquent and precise prod.

the man doesn’t reach his hand out, as you would expect, to introduce himself. he simply voices, “miss ln,” with a curt nod of his head.

you pull your eyes away from your new bodyguard, you still can’t make out too much of what he looks like. “father, i already have personal guards,” you state matter of factly.

“of course,” your father leans back into his chair. “but none of them are with you 24/7. sicheng will be, ensuring no harm comes your way.”

unbelievable. on the surface, it seems like he truly wants you under protection, but you understand your father’s schemes; you understand your father more than anyone else. what he’s really saying is that he has hired this man—dong sicheng—so that you will be put on his watchlist.

your father smiles a gentle smile. “but,” at the very first sound of a protest, the corners of his mouth begins to droop, “if this is about last time—”

with a firm shake of his head, your father cuts you off. “this isn’t negotiable, yn.”

normally, when you would argue things to be your way, your father would at least hear what you have to say. so, to be cut off so bluntly... a pang of helplessness strikes you square in the chest, and your eyes divert towards your new guard.

“i recommend you use your time to get adjusted to this change,” with that, your father dismisses the both of you out of his office.

you shuffle out into the cold, sterile hallways. marble pillars line the walls with ornate sconces attached upon them, each bearing a flickering candle. besides just hearing the firm footsteps of someone else tailing right behind you, you can also feel an almost omniscient presence shadowing you. swiftly, you spin around on your heels only to be met eye level with someone's chest. your guard's. you have to angle your head upwards so that you can look into his eyes; he seems to purposefully ignore your gaze, staring straight at one of the pillars opposite him.

he's undeniably gorgeous. the hallways are more lit up than your father's study, allowing you to examine every detail of your guard's face.

you wait a few seconds before breaking the silence, "are you not going to say anything?"

he drops his focus onto you. coldly, he replies, "that's not what i'm paid to do, miss." he lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, before returning to look at nothing.

he can tell that you're clearly annoyed by his response, but he makes no show of it. you continue, "if you're not even going to look at me, how are you going to protect me?"

"is there something i need to protect you from in your own home, miss ln?"

he knows. at least he's alluding to knowing about your last little incident. you curse yourself for being careless in your head. if you hadn't caused a ruckus when you snuck home a few nights ago, you wouldn't have this bizarrely handsome, yet callous man looming over you until your father sees a reason to think otherwise.

"no, i suppose not."

you turn around once more, facing the rest of the hallway. an archway leads to a stately staircase at the end of the corridor. you walk down the hall, trying to dismiss the delayed footsteps behind you, and enter through the archway. the staircase spirals upwards into the corridor connecting the bedrooms; yours and your father's. of course, there are other rooms upstairs, such as the library, the games room, other rooms that you don't concern yourself with too much. a grand piano sits in the centre of the spiralling staircase, its' glossy surface lit up by the moonshine flooding inside through the domed skylight.

you proceed up the stairs, not expecting your bodyguard to follow you up, but he does.

you pause, and look back around for the second time now in the span of less than 10 minutes.

"there aren't guest rooms upstairs," you point out flatly.

he responds, meeting your coldness with his own but only 10 times more intensified, "i won't be requiring one."

puzzled, you ask, "you're not going to be sleeping in my room, are you?" half jokingly, half serious.

"miss ln," he takes one step up on the staircase so that he's at the same level as you, forcing you to tilt your head upwards at him. the heels of his shoes echo loudly on impact against the quartz steps. "there are boundaries i must follow in my duties. so whilst i won't be requiring my own room, i also know not to overstep into your privacy." he scans your face, looking for any hint of understanding. then, he adds plainly, "i will be guarding your bedroom door outside. you can rest assured."

you can feel a sly smirk creeping up onto your face, "shame. here i was thinking that you would follow me everywhere. speaking of," you make an exaggerated movement out of looking down at the watch on your wrist. "i should better shower; it's getting late."

sicheng's face is unfazed but still, you simper, looking pleased with yourself.

he stalks behind you wordlessly as you make the rest of your way up to your bedroom. and sure enough, he stops and stands outside to the right of your door.

"you can't be serious," the thought in your head slips out through your lips.

he doesn't look back. "i'm afraid your father is a vey serious man, miss ln."

how does father expect this man to stand outside of your room all night long? assuming he doesn't sleep, given the 24/7 hour-ness as mentioned in your father's spiel, how will he even have to energy to do his job?

you study the profile of his back for a few seconds before pushing your door closer to the frame, not completely shutting it.

your bedroom connects to an en suite bathroom. to say it's grand is underplaying the extent of luxury which you live in. the room is unnecessarily spacious with marble counters and a tall ceiling with intricately moulded details. a round bathtub sits in the centre, integrated directly into a gazebo-like fixture. a golden chandelier hangs overhead the bathtub, softly lighting up the room, creating a warm atmosphere. to the right side of the tub, facing across from the mirror and the sink, stands a shower area enclosed by frosted glass doors.

you reach for your zipper on the nape of your neck. you slide your thumb underneath the metal tab and begin to pull it down between your fingers. it budges an inch or two before it gets caught onto the fabric of your dress. "ugh," you vocalise. forcibly, you attempt to get the zipper unstuck, tugging and tugging but it won't shift.

you can only think of one solution.

"uh," you call out loud enough so that your bodyguard outside is sure to hear you. you're not quite sure how you should address him; calling him by his name feels weirdly a bit too intimate.

putting you out of your misery, he responds, "yes?" from outside in the halls.

"could you... come in?"

there's a break before he answers back to you. "i'm afraid that's unbecoming of me unless there's an emergency, miss ln."

you roll your eyes, despite knowing he's not there to see. "there is an emergency. will you come in now?"

"...are you decent?" he seems to contemplate his words carefully.

"god, you're frustrating," you blurt out, "yes, i'm decent- who do you think i am?"

there's a brief pause in time before you hear footsteps step into your bedroom. you can see him stop in front of your bathroom doorway in your peripheral.

you look over at him, standing tall and poised with his hands clasped in front of him. "what's the emergency, miss?"

turning your back against him, you sweep your hair over your shoulders, baring your zipper. "i can't get this unstuck."

he doesn't take any steps towards you, "and you needed me to come in for this?"

your patience grows thinner and thinner by the second. "if i could've got it myself, i wouldn't have called for you, would i?"

with this, he takes one... two... and three steps. just three steps before he's in reach of you. you can feel a warmth draw closer to you. turning your head towards your shoulder, you can see him standing behind you in the mirror. without knowing, you hold your breath. he goes to pull gingerly with one hand on the back neckline of your dress, the other trying to unwedge the fabric jammed underneath the zipper. he frees the tab and smoothly, he unzips you down to the middle of your back, stopping himself from releasing the zip all the way down. immediately, he drops his head and removes his hands from your dress while simultaneously taking a large step back from you.

"if that's all, i will leave you to rest for tonight, miss ln." his head is still angled downwards, eyes glued to the bathroom tiling.

you mutter, "thank you," finally taking in a breath again.

he nods, and begins to step backwards out of the bathroom. before he disappears completely from your field of vision, he is stopped by your expulsion of an 'um.'

without a word, he waits for what you have next to say. turning around to face him, he lifts his head and meets your eyes, still as emotionless as they were when you two were on the stairs.

"goodnight, sicheng."

you can see his chest rise, and fall before he speaks again. "goodnight, miss ln."

there's gentle thumping at the door but you can't be sure. your head and senses are foggy from sleep. your eyelids remain shut, trying to phase out the knocking.

"miss ln?"

for a brief moment, you don't recognise the voice calling out for your name. it is much deeper than the normal voice of your housemaid. your eyes open to a squint to see the morning sun rays surging into your room through the mesh veil of your curtains. another part of the garden can be seen through the windows to the right of your bed.

"miss ln?" sicheng calls out again.

"yes?" groggily, you answer as you push yourself up, propping your back against the cushioned headboard.

"your housemaid informs me that you have errands to run today."

your head snaps, remembering what today is. the gala.

he continues speaking, "i tried to send some of my men to help carry out your errands for you instead, but i was told to get your permission."

you manoeuvre out of your bed, tossing the throw blanket off of you. heading directly for the double doors, you swing them open to find dong sicheng standing right outside with his arms behind him, his head bowed. the sudden movement causes him to jolt his head upwards.

"no, i'll go," you scan him quickly up and down. he's dressed in the exact same outfit as last night, hair still combed over only a bit more disheveled. you want to ask if he really stood outside of your room while you slept throughout the whole night, but you know what he will say. your father never made promises he can't follow up on, mainly because it was never him personally who fulfilled his promises.

sicheng, looking caught offguard for the first time quickly steels his face back again into his trademark stoicness. "then, i shall accompany you." he gives your get-up one swift look down, then back up. "i'm ready whenever you are."

feeling only slightly annoyed at his gesture, you close the door on him and go to get dressed.

...

sicheng sits next to you in the car. the driver in front seems to pay no attention to his presence. you glance over, trying to make your staring not as conspicuous, but to no avail. his posture is perfectly upright and his hair looks more groomed than when he was stood outside your bedroom door.

"do i look to your standard, miss ln?" it's only when he finishes asking his question that he meets your gaze. it's clear in that moment that he didn't expect an answer to his rhetorical question.

feeling only slightly embarrassed, you lower you eyebrows at him, "do you remember last night when you said you don't get paid to talk?" feigning curiosity with your head tilted to the side.

the slightest smile breaks on his face. "very well," eyes diverting away from you and onto the road out in front through the windshield.

the rest of the ride is silent, which your chauffeur took as a sign to turn on the radio. the first piece that blares out ever so softly is liebestraum no. 3.

the car then comes to a halt in front of a private wine bar. sicheng opens his door and holds onto the handle as he waits for you to shuffle out behind him. then, he shuts it and waves the driver off to a direction. you readjust your outfit from having been sat down.

carefully, you traipse your way towards the entrance of the wine bar, being deliberate to not place a heel down in between the crevices of the cobblestone that lined the courtyard.

"i'm surprised you haven't voiced your displeasure for me going out of the house, yet," you remark, "surely, my father told you i was not to be let out."

for having been against the idea of having a bodyguard just yesterday, you seem to have grown rather used to having sicheng around you rather quickly. you can only hope that he doesn't pick up on this.

"not to be let out without protection, yes."

he's quick on the draw. you pause right in front of the heavy mahogany door, the top of it curved inwards to a sharp point. your eyes gloss over the coffee brown grain pattern before you place a palm onto it and push inwards.

...

it's been a few hours since you've arrived back home from the wine bar, having picked out the perfect gift for the gala host tonight. sunset falls upon the horizon and that's your cue to start getting ready.

you've always had a habit of putting on your makeup by yourself as opposed to having someone else do it for you. however, that habit doesn't carry over to styling your hair.

you're sat in front of a full length mirror, a baroque style detailing frames the entirety of it. priscilla, one of the housemaids who's similar in age to you, stands behind you, attentively pinning the hair in the back of your head into a detailed updo. you look at your dress in the mirror. the square neckline makes space for your freshwater pearl necklace that glows softly against your skin.

"and... all done," priscilla announces.

you turn your head in the mirror to get a better view of her work, "it's a beautiful job." you stand from your seat, catching her eyes in the reflection, "thank you."

she smiles brightly, her youth glints in her eyes. "here," she looks to the side to grab a pair of long silk gloves, holding it out to you. you pull them over your left hand all the way up to your elbow, then your right, struggling a little over the bandage wrapped around your palm.

after tucking your purse in between your arm and your ribs, you're ready to head out.

sicheng is already in the foyer, waiting for you. when your heels first click against the quartz stairs, his eyes darts toward you at the top of the spiralled staircase. you delicately place a hand on the iron banister and as you make your way down the steps, you glide your gloved palm along the railing.

sicheng watches your every action.

when you reach the bottom of the staircase, you shake your head gently to push back the strands of hairs that had fell in front of your face.

"how do i look?" you ask with a teasing smile.

you can see sicheng's lips part faintly, only for him to clear his throat right after. "as you do normally, miss ln." he subtly straightens his posture and pushes his shoulders back. "after you," he gestures towards the front door.

...

sicheng pulls open the door closest to you. he extends his palm towards you, with his other hand cradling a small, rectangular wooden box. you take his hand as you lift one foot out of the vehicle and onto the tiled courtyard of the xiao family house.

the butler comes to greet you. you've known him and the family that he works for for as long as you can remember, and seeing him again tonight struck a chord within you. a certain spark of gloom settles inside your stomach when you see him smile, his wrinkles deeper and his hair greyer than you remember.

the butler leads you down the main entrance hall towards the gala that's already well under way behind the closed doors. you've been down these halls more than a handful of time, the same paintings have been hung up on the walls for at least a decade, but the air of elegance and grandeur that the xiao family home exudes never fails to knock your breath out of you.

sicheng notices you seemingly lost in a thought, and before the trio of you reaches the superfluously tall double doors, he quietly utters, "is everything alright?" being mindful and not wanting the butler to overhear if something was amiss.

you glance over your shoulder, out of your trance, "yes."

he doesn't press, anymore. even if he did want to ask more, ask if you were sure, he knew his place, and so he didn't pry further.

the butler pushes open the double doors and a gentle puff of wind blows against you, travelling along with the music to your ears. "enjoy the gala," he smiles, and you return his display of friendliness.

as he walks back down the other direction, sicheng inches ever so slightly closer to you.

the cold and eerily too refined hallway is starkly contrasted by the lively atmosphere of the gala ballroom. attendees are chatting, networking, dancing. they all look extremely distinguished; pearls and diamonds and crystals draped all over them. the chandelier hanging in the middle of the ballroom is glistening, and a small orchestra is performing at one end of the hall.

you pause on top of the stairs for a moment, taking in the scene in front of you, and simultaneously searching for a face. then, you find it.

you begin to make your way down to where everyone else was on the dance floor, and sicheng follows closely behind you. as you weave your way in between the attendees, your senses are hit and overwhelmed with notes upon notes of fragrances. it transitions from roses to vanilla, cedarwood to bergamot. individually, these aromas would typically be more than pleasant, but combined together along with the heat emanating off everyone, it muddled your senses so much that a headache began to creep its way into your temples. it's clear as you manoeuvre your way across the dance floor, that sicheng stood out to everyone as an unusual date of yours. they would flash a faint smile at you then take one, or two glances at the man trailing behind you. guards weren't uncommon, yes, but to bring a personal guard to a gala hosted by a well respected member of the upper echelon? that was uncommon.

finally, you're face to face with the person you've been looking for: the host.

"mrs. xiao."

"yn!" she enthusiastically greets you, a beaming smile on her face. her arms open up and pull you into a warm embrace. "goodness, i haven't seen you in so long!" she expresses as she begins to pull away.

"i know, it's been way too long," you politely respond.

if you were talking to anyone else in this room, you'd be dead before you were caught speaking so casually to them. but you grew up next to mrs. xiao and her family. her son, dejun, was practically your childhood best friend. well, it's hard to tell if a best friend really is a best friend when that was your only option, but nonetheless, your two families were close.

"oh!" you voice as you turn around to sicheng. you stretch your hands towards the wooden box that he was carrying and he places it gently into your palms. "here, i got you some merlot," you turn back around, "i asked barnie at the winery to give me your favourite," a curl stretched your lips taut.

a wave of gratitude washes over mrs. xiao's face. "you're still as thoughtful as ever, yn." she takes the box into her arms, and as if on cue, someone dressed in a neat uniform comes towards mrs. xiao and takes the box away so that she doesn't have to carry it herself for more than a couple of seconds.

and right at the moment, dejun approaches where you are stood in the centre of the ballroom, walking alongside some other guests, one you know, the other you don't.

mrs. xiao turns to him, trying to contain some of her agitation as she mutters, "where have you been this whole night?"

"i've been in here, ma," he responds equally as quiet, but more passive aggressively, disguised with that bright smile of his.

mrs. xiao turns her head away from him with her nose up, trying to swallow down her irritation. "anyway," she breathes out. "dejun, aren't you going to introduce your friends?"

he took that as a sign to do as his mother asked, but not before sighing a shallow breath first. in an instant, he puts on a charming smile. you know he's not doing it for you, he couldn't care less about being charming towards you; both of you knew you would see right through it anyway. "yn, this is rin. rin, yn. and hendery's here as well, i guess," he mutters the last part of his sentence.

you stifle back a smirk at dejun's attempt at humour and extend your palm for a handshake with rin. "it's a pleasure to meet you." she doesn't say anything but shakes your hand gently and mirrors your smile back to you, except hers looks very practiced and unnatural.

mrs. xiao tuts her teeth, so subtly that it's barely audible. she turns her body into you ever so slightly, leaning forward and muttering under her breath into your ear, "i really wish you were here to stop my jun兒 from falling into these circles. look at them, no manners at all."

dejun watches almost awkwardly, then he switches the attention onto you. "what about you, yn? aren't you going to introduce us to your little armpiece?" he cocks his head in sicheng's direction.

mrs. xiao shoots dejun a stern look, one that carries the weight of a thousand words. but in front of such a crowd, the extent of her reprimanding ends at, "don't speak so crass."

dejun only shoots up his eyebrows in response, and sucks in a quiet breath.

"this is dong sicheng," on instinct, your hand sweeps out to the side of you and sicheng nods. "he's the... bodyguard, that my father hired."

"bodyguard, huh?"

"don't start, xiaojun," you try your best to make it seem subtle enough, but dejun chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes.

mrs. xiao cuts through the brief pause in conversation, "well, we would love to stay and chat more but i should go greet some of my other guests. you don't mind, yn?"

"no, of course, not."

mrs. xiao gives you one last squeeze before she's off again waving halfway across the room to somebody else, and dejun and his friends trail behind her.

you're about to turn around when a waiter passes by you and sicheng, one hand balancing a tray full of glasses of champagne.

"a drink, miss?"

you pinch the stem of the glass in between your fingers and your thumb. when the waiter offers one to sicheng, he declines.

as you bring your champagne up to your lips, sicheng slips his fingers around the bowl of your glass and forcibly pulls it away from you. "he offered you one," you look at him in disbelief, but he acts as if you didn't say anything.

he hovers the rim of the glass under his nose, swirling the champagne around as he does so. you watch, still half incredulous and half in puzzlement. he brings the rim up against his lips, tipping the glass towards him as he takes the tiniest sip of champagne that you’ve ever seen. as he swallows, he smacks his lips together lightly, then he passes the glass back to you.

“what was that for?” hesitantly, you sit the bowl of the glass back into your palm. you’re not sure if you should sip from the same cup as he did—is that even appropriate in this setting?

“not laced,” he states nonchalantly, eyes darting around the room.

it takes your brain a few seconds to fully process what he just did, and said. “and why would it be laced?” a confusion intertwined with your voice.

sicheng stares at you, not blankly, but not aggressively either. it’s like you can read what he’s doing in his head, going down winding paths to find you an answer, but you can’t read exactly what it is that he’s thinking.

he finally responds after a good few moments of him turning your question over in his head. “you are my responsibility,” he can sense that you are about to object this statement, so he quickly continues. “regardless of what you may think, you are. whatever i do, i do in your best interest. do you understand now?”

truthfully, you want to reply, ‘not quite.’ how does that explain why your drink at a gala held by people you know, people you trust, would be laced?

sicheng leans in close enough so that you can hear him at a whisper, but not so close that people will see and start to speculate. "miss ln, may i remind you you're a successor. i know you've already lived through some threats, but if they were willing to threaten you when you arguably held no power, imagine what they would do if they knew you were taking over your father's position as mayor."

he backs away; face still as cold as steel, not letting anything that he's thinking or feeling show. you can't help but feel a bit shaken at his words. yes, you've received threats before, but they were mostly empty-handed words scribbled on a note. you never thought anything of them, until sicheng said something just now.

"there's no reason people here of all places would want to do anything to me; you're too paranoid." as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your doubt coating your tongue, but you wash it down with some sparkling wine. just a little bit.

sicheng studies your expression for a second, his head tilting slightly to the side. "have you ever heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing, miss ln? maybe you're not paranoid enough," his last word drags off and almost becomes inaudible.

you blink your lashes a couple of times looking up at him, and then an echoing voice pierces right through the ballroom.

"hello everyone! thank you all for attending my little gathering."

both you and sicheng turn your heads to the origin of the sound. mrs. xiao is stood on the little stage that the orchestra has been performing on.

a pleasant smile drawing on her face as she addresses her guests, "it is so great to see so many of you. as you all know, my husband and i-"

the lights cut. the chandelier that was hanging above the dance floor flickers off.

mrs. xiao's voice can be heard again, but this time loudly proclaiming without the help of her microphone over the gasps and murmurs of confusion. "everyone please remain calm—i'm sure the lights will be back on soon."

a sudden pang of fear hits you. your heart thumps faster in your chest, and your breathing becomes shallower and shallower. there's darkness all around you. you try your best to look for, or rather, feel around for sicheng but you remain quiet, knowing it will only add to the chaos. people all around you are shuffling, nudging everyone else. whispers and mumbles all fade into a singular stream of white noise around you. then, you feel a hand grasp on your upper arm. a sense of relief washes over your mind, sicheng. but then, the grasp feels begins to dig deeper and deeper into you, and it becomes clear to you that whatever grasping you isn't a hand. at least, it's not a hand coming into direct contact with you. the fingers digging into your arm are clothed by a silk or sorts; sicheng didn't wear gloves.

you try to free your arm by wrangling it away from whoever it is that has a hold on you. then, in an instant, you feel the hand drop from you so forcibly that it tugged your arm downwards along with it. a new hand has made its way onto you, this time just slightly below your shoulder. you hear a whisper in your ear, "come on, let's go," and the relief you felt earlier resurfaces. this time, it's definitely sicheng's voice.

he takes hold of your wrist, not too tight but just enough to guide you to the exit. as you two are about to head up the stairs to the double doors, the lights flicker back on and mrs. xiao is on stage again.

"there we are. i apologise profusely for that disruption," her hands grip onto the mic stand tightly.

sicheng leads you up the stairs and out the doors without second guessing; everyone else seemed too caught up in the middle of the chaos to notice.

...

back at your home, you and sicheng enter through your foyer and he's spluttering out orders and demands over the phone. as you pass by the large circular mirror hanging in one of the walls of the foyer, you catch a glimpse of your reflection. you double take. one of your ears are still adorned by the beautiful pearl earring that your father had got you, but your other one is missing.

sicheng gets off of the phone that he's been on since the beginning of the car ride home. then, he notices you staring at your reflection in the mirror. "what's the matter?"

you give a gentle shake of your head, fingers drawing at your bare earlobe, "nothing, just one of my earrings is gone."

"i'll have my men try to find it for you," he responds without missing a beat. "miss ln, are you sure that nothing else happened whilst the lights went out?" his eyebrows curve in a slight s-shape.

"yes, i already told you. someone grabbed me by the arm, but that was it. maybe they just thought i was someone they knew."

sicheng shows no reaction to your theory, "i will have this investigated, miss ln. i advise you to get some rest," he says with a bow of his head.

your nightly routine goes by like a blur. priscilla has been dismissed for the night, so you undo your hair, your gown, and clean off your makeup all by yourself, but your mind isn't fully in the present.

sicheng went off after telling you to get some rest, presumably to inform your father about what'd happened. you don't know for certain if he's still speaking to your father, or if he's standing outside your door right now.

it's not that your mind is dwelling on what happened; in fact, you are precisely thinking of nothing. everything in your vision passes by you like you're watching someone else lead their life. even as you get changed, crawl into bed, and try to drift to sleep.

suddenly, you hear a creak from outside your window. your eyes shoot open. trying your best to calm yourself, you reason that it's probably just mice who'd made their way into your garden. a strong gust of wind blows past. then, silence.

and another creak. all logic and rationale flys out of your mind. the only thing you can think of to do is...

"sicheng!"

you tried your best to hold your own earlier, down in the foyer, but right now the sense of urgency in your voice betrays you. sicheng bursts into your room, the buttons of the collar of his shirt undone.

"yes, miss ln?"

his eyes are solely focused on you, despite you looking out towards the windows.

"there's... i heard some weird noises," you gesture with your head pointing at the garden.

sicheng follows your gaze, then he looks back at you. he could tell you that you're in your own home, that you're safe, but instead, he walks over to your windows and draws open your curtains. "there's nothing here, miss ln." hoping that he can provide you with some reassurance, he looks back at you, "we've already done a perimeter check, you're safe here, i assure you."

you drop your eyes, responding with a gentle nod of the head.

"i'll be outside," he says as he begins to make his way back to the door.

before he can reach the handle, you stop him, "wait." he looks at you with an expectant expression. "can't you just stay here?"

even though he's a distance away, you notice a flinch in his brows as he registered your words. "i'm afraid that's not appropriate, miss ln." he says this, but he doesn't take another step.

"there," you point towards the sofa chair to the right side of your bed, "at least just stay there." you wanted to add a 'please,' maybe plead with him, but your dignity had to be kept even if you were fearful.

he doesn't protest as much as you thought he would. quietly, he shuts your door and makes his way to the chair.

your fingers hop from one note to another, pressing down with force and lifting again at the flick of your wrist. a familiar tune emanates throughout the room, rising up to the skylight, then sinking back down again.

your hands dance along the keys of the grand piano at the bottom of your staircase. a bittersweet melody fills your ears, and as you come to a decrescendo in the piece, the faint sound of footsteps through the marble halls overtake your playing. you swiftly turn your head around.

sicheng is stood behind you. under the bright morning light, his cheekbones stand out prominently. "i've been looking for you, miss ln," his chest falls as he says this.

"you dozed off," you turn your attention back to the piano, "i didn't want to wake you."

"i apologise; it won't happen again."

"you need to rest, too," you raise your hands and gently set them on top of the keys, "do you even sleep?"

there's a slight break in between your asking of the question and his answer. "occasionally, but not when i'm supposed to be on duty."

you turn back around, "well, like you said: i'm safe here." you scan him up and down, he's changed out of the outfit he wore to the gala last night, but all his outfits resemble each other. a black button up shirt, a fitted black blazer, black suit paints, a black tie, and a small white brooch on the lapels of his blazer. "do you play?"

he looks to be slightly caught offguard, "no. well, yes but-"

"play something for me."

you shuffle yourself to one side of the bench, making room for sicheng next to you. he slowly walks around and slides into the spot you've made for him. for the first time, you can visibly see that every one of his actions are carried out with hesitation.

his posture is perfect, head slightly tilted downwards and a curve at his wrist as his fingertips lay upon the whites of the piano keys. he clears his throat. then, a single note as he presses down with his index finger. the beginning is slow, slower than the piece was intended to be, but you know what he's playing regardless. nocturne op. 9 no. 1. there's a certain silent agony in the way he punctuates the flow of the melody. the second of the set of nocturnes that chopin had composed has always been regarded as chopin's more famous piece of work over this one. yet, the manner in which sicheng plays this piece makes you wonder why.

the stiffness that was prevalent in his body is now gone, fully immersed in the rhythm. the crescendo comes devastatingly, he leans forward into it, the melody tugging at your chest despite it sounding a bit brighter than the introduction of the piece. you watch in silence as his fingers glide and cross over each other masterfully, a sonorous tone emitting from his movements.

he doesn't finish the piece, but he finds a place to stop after a minute or so of playing.

his fingers linger on the notes as the melody fades out gradually.

"you play beautifully," softly, you remark, "where did you learn?"

he lifts his hands from the keys, clasping them together on his lap. "thank you—my mother taught me."

you watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple dipping slightly. a thought occurs to you. you barely know anything about this man who’s supposed to protect you. maybe that’s for privacy, confidentiality, or security reasons but, there’s a certain yearning in you that wants to find out more about him. after all, trust can’t be built without a foundation. you just don’t know where to prod.

“…and what about your dad?”

sicheng glances over at you, slightly confused at your sudden interest in him. his eyebrows flinch again. “he, uh, used to work for your father. that’s why i’m here. my family owes a lot to your father.”

he gulps again.

you’re not completely sure how to navigate through this conversation. do you ask where his father is now? what if it’s a sensitive spot, why else would sicheng be acting this uncharacteristically. his cold and cool demeanor seemingly melted away. “your father… is he…”

you don’t finish your sentence, but sicheng knows what you’re hinting at. “no, no. he’s just retired. too many injuries on the job.” he clears his throat and stands up from the bench. “sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude on your space, miss ln.” he begins to walk back around the bench.

you can’t help but let out a faint chuckle. “drop the title already. it’s just yn.”

he’s standing tall, hands clasped in front of him, and he purses his lips together. he dips his head rather jerkily, “as you wish.”

then, a ping sounds out.

you pick up your phone that was laid out on the top cover of the piano, and sicheng fishes for his in the inside pockets of his blazer. as he brings out his phone, you begin to hear a vibration sounding out. he holds it in his hand and flashes a quick glance at you, “excuse me,” then he accepts the call. as he brings it up to his ear, he spins on his heel and start to walk off into a distant hallway.

you divert your attention back onto your screen and begin to see messages popping up at the bottom. ones from dejun that read:

"my mum would like to apologise to everyone here about what happened yesterday."

it's sent to the group chat thread that you rarely respond to, though, you do keep up with its messages.

then, another:

"i don't believe in apologies without actions, so you're all cordially invited to come to dreamers' oasis in d119 tomorrow night."

"on me."

the last message was an important detail. you click on the notification bubble and already see others typing in the group chat.

hendery writes, "you are so gonna regret saying that."

a tiny smile creeps its' way onto your face. your thumbs begin moving on the keyboard; hitting send on a message that says, "hendery's going to bankrupt you," which earned you a dislike from dejun.

he ignores your comment, "will you finally be joining us yn? you know, seeing as it's your last week as a free woman."

the last part of his sentence hits you; maybe not to that extreme but it is your last week before you have to take on your father's responsibilities.

every time dejun invites you to a night out, it's most of the time a no brainer and not in a positive way. all the clubs and bars that your friends choose are out of your district's boundaries. and it's not like you didn't have clubs and bars in this district, but the fun ones—as dejun puts it—are only in district 119. you've only taken the risk a couple of times, but now, with especially an extra pair of eagle eyes on you, the possibility of sneaking out is practically 0.

before you can respond, hendery already sent out a message in your place, "have you seen her little boyfriend yesterday? there's no way man."

as much as you want to disagree, you can't. there is no way.

"not my boyfriend," you finally type out.

messages keep popping up on screen, a plan coming together with the people that can go. before you exit out of the thread, you type in "i'll see what i can do," but you stop short of pressing send.

quietly, you head off in the same direction as sicheng, scanning the halls for any sign of him. you're not quite sure what you'll do once you see him. beg him? please let me go out with my friends and get wasted? no. you haven't reached that point, yet; you still have some decorum within you.

you spot him still talking over the phone behind a marble pillar. as silently as possible, you sidle over to where he is, not wanting to disrupt him. once you're close enough, you catch glimpses of his conversation that he's having: "do you understand? whatever you do... we can't let her find out what happened."

your brain made the connect pretty quickly, the 'her' in question had to be you—who else? and what is he keeping from you? he continues speaking but nothing is going through you. all you can think about is, what is he not telling me? as quietly as you came, you retrace your steps back into the piano room.

you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a spark of fury beginning to catch within you. if you are to trust sicheng, why would he purposefully keep something from you? the more you think about it, the more agitated you grew. the fact that he seemed to treat you like a child needing protection every step along the way annoyed you—and what if his intention wasn't to protect you? your head can only spin with theories and speculations.

you unlock your phone again, and hit send on the last message you typed out.

...

your father wanted to have dinner with you tonight, alongside sicheng, of course. and you know now after sitting down to begin your meal, he really wanted to have dinner with sicheng tonight.

"any updates?" your father directed the inquiry towards your bodyguard.

the three of you are sat on a long, oval table. your father sitting at one end, and you and sicheng sitting across from him, sharing the other end. the candelabra stands in between you and your father in the middle.

"no, not yet, sir. we're still trying to investigate the intent behind yesterday's actions."

he finishes his sentence before continuing to cut into his ribeye. you sit adjacent to him, observing every movement he takes. as he stabs into the meat with his fork and brings it up into his mouth. he sets his fork down on the edge of the plate, bringing the napkin laid flat on his lap up as he chews.

"yn, you're not hungry?" your father's voice booms from across the room, breaking your attention away from sicheng.

you look down at your plate, barely touched aside from you swirling the sauce around. "no, i'm afraid not." you set down the fork that you have been toying with flat on the tablecloth. you pull the napkin from your lap and place it on the other side of your plate. standing up, you voice, "i'm a bit weary tonight." you spot sicheng shifting to get up from his seat in your peripheral, "no, no, please finish dinner. father, would you excuse me?"

"well... of course," with your father's approval, sicheng sits back down. you turn around, the heels you're wearing click at a steady pace as you're headed for the doors.

you haven't spoken directly to sicheng since dinner last night. the whole of today you spent cooped up in the library. that's not to say that you were being passive, though.

you haven't forgotten about dejun's invitation for drinks tonight—you just needed the perfect cover.

it's around 8pm, your maids have come and gone bringing you food and tea from time to time. you glance at the grandfather clock propped up against the wall in between all the bookshelves.

you slide the book that you've held in your hands back into its spot on the shelf. rather than actually reading it, your eyes have been skimming the pages and the words scattered throughout absent-mindedly. you turn your plan over around in your mind as you did so, and you have been for the past few hours, at least.

you drag your feet over the wooden floorboards of the library and crack open the doors. you peak your head out into the crack, then the rest of your body follows. oddly enough, sicheng isn't standing right in front of the room.

like a stereotypical action movie, you give the hallways a quick glance in one direction, then the other. you've never felt as much like a thief in your own home. sneaking, tiptoeing around the hallways, caution bubbling in every part of you.

when you reach your bedroom doors, footsteps sound behind you.

the looming presence of someone else doesn't speak, the only indication of them even being there is the shadow of them casted over your own feet.

you turn around, and you're met with the face that you've come to expect these past few days. "i'm... having an early night in."

sicheng's expression is unfaltering. the return of his stoicism makes you feel like a schoolchild being reprimanded by some vague authority figure; desperate to give more and more answers, to keep speaking and reasoning.

he watches your frozen body, as if you'd been caught doing something you're not supposed to, when in reality you're just stood outside of the doors to your own bedroom. "just thought i'd tell you," you add.

"well, don't let me stop you." his torso leans forward ever so slightly, the tone of his voice catching on the edge of a faint whisper.

the handle of the door clicks as you push onto it. when you look back to shut it, sicheng repositions himself with his back to the wall that lines the outside of your room.

once you're completely alone, you strip yourself of the sleeping clothes that you'd been wearing for entirety of today immediately and go over to your closet where you'd already hung up an outfit that you picked out last night.

you slip it on hastily: a tight fitting camisole top with a miniskirt, paired with some knee high leather boots and an oversized jacket for warmth. most of this outfit doesn't even look like it belongs to you. the people in your life knows you for wearing pretty dresses and skirts that reach your knees at least, but if tonight's going to be anything close to fun, then you need to look the part. you can't afford sticking out like a sore thumb, especially in district 119.

you'd texted your friends—or rather xiaojun, and his friends—earlier, asking if they could park right outside the gazebo at the far end of the garden, waiting for you to show up. this plan has worked precisely 2 times before with a 100% success rate, and you're counting on it working for a third time.

you would open the doors to your balcony, climb over the balustrade and scale your way downwards on the water pipe right next to your balcony landing. the garden wasn't fenced in like the front of the house. after all, this house was on private land belonging to your father; anyone who tried to trespass would've been seen by at least one person working on the property. so, it was an easy enough escape from the garden compared to your exit route down from your room.

you walk through the gazebo, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as you try to shake the cold of the night off of you. dejun's suv is there, headlights off.

they must've seen you even in the dark, because once you're about a step or two away, the passenger door to the suv swings open—dejun himself in the driver's seat.

...

after finding a quick place to park, you and the group walk a block to where the club is, having had a drink or two on the way here.

the streets are anything but quiet. the heavy void of the sky sits atop the city like a dome, the neon signs colouring the deep blue like a palette of dulled paint. the closer and closer you get to the club, the music already begins to boom from within. laughter erupts from the rest of the group from a joke that you missed.

a pair stands right outside the entrance of the club, one of them leaning against the brick wall whilst the other squats; cigarettes in both their hands. you hold your breath as you walk right into a fresh cloud of smoke, courtesy of the man standing up.

on one hand, you want to let loose tonight; have fun. but on the other, you can't help but wonder if you were meticulous enough, or even at all. there's no guarantee that sicheng wouldn't just open your door and find that you are nowhere within the vicinity. but he wouldn't for no reason, you try to calm your racing mind.

you find yourself at the back of the pack, watching everyone in front of you filter into the entrance, disappearing into the darkness surrounded by a rectangular frame.

dejun is right in front of you, he takes note of your hesitation. he comes back down from the steps leading to the entrance stopping right next to you.

lowering his head, he looks at you through his brows, "don't tell me you're gonna pussy out when you're right outside."

you try to dismiss the doubts flaring around in your head. "you wish. drinks still on you, right?" you shoot him a quick wink, then stride up the steps and like others before you, submerge into the darkness.

and immediately, flashing lights take over the darkness. a neon green fog floats just above the floor. a circular platform stands in the middle of the club with a metal pole going through the centre of it. the club itself is a lot bigger than you'd imagined, given what the exterior of it looked like. circle booths surround the platform and smaller ones are peppered all throughout. the ceiling is tall with decorative vines and ivies hanging from it, not low enough for anyone to reach. 2 bartenders stand behind the bar, busying themselves with orders upon orders for a room of, what looks to be about 200 people. a small, spiralled staircase stands to the right of the bar, leading to what resembles a loft platform with people drinking and laughing up on it.

it's as if your feet are stuck to the ground as you take in the scene before you. dejun places a hand on the small of your back. he utters right by your ear, "come on, that way," as he guides you towards one of the bigger booths right in front of the platform.

you plop down on the red leather couch, warmed against the back of your thigh.

remixes of popular songs blast unapologetically out of the speakers that lined every few inches of the walls. you can hardly hear the people in front of you speaking, debating what drinks to get first. you lean forward, wanting to get an in on what they're discussing. shots, shots, shots. after a word or two from dejun, everyone agrees that they should do shots first. melon flavoured, to be exact.

dejun vanishes into the group of people crowding around the bar.

"so, yn, how's leaving your house for the first time ever?" one of dejun's friends sprouts up.

you can feel your breathing pick up its pace. you weren't expecting much conversation seeing as 'friends' isn't exactly the label you'd put on these people, with the exception being dejun, and maybe hendery.

"great actually, thanks." you slide back into your spot on the booth, only slightly cramped with the amount of people sharing one area.

hendery lands a punch on the guy's arm, "watch how you speak to our princess." a smirk picks up on the guy's lips as hendery finishes his sentence, his tongue poking into the crevice of his cheek.

and just as quickly as the attention turned to you, it leaves you even faster. comments are thrown around about the female bartender.

"hendery, i'll give you £100 if you don't ask for her number tonight," someone chimed.

hendery quickly steals a glance at his phone before returning his eyes to the bettor, "i guess we're not leaving until after midnight, then." he sits back, throwing an arm around the girl next to him.

dejun makes his way back, hands holding as many shots as he could—which was 8. not all of them were filled equally, which you can only assume was attributed to dejun's bumping into people as he was on his way back. the small glasses were filled with a somewhat cloudy liquid. everyone picked up a shot as he set them down on the glass table, including you.

"to xiaojun bankrolling us!" a voice chirped up with a glass in the air. everyone else followed with a chorus of cheers, clinking the shots together before tipping their heads back and downing it.

as you swallow, there's a hint of sweetness from the melon flavour but the vodka is inescapable. you can feel it travel all the way with a burn down your oesophagus until it settles in your stomach, a heat spreading from it.

...

the overwhelming boom of the music does not phase you anymore. you are past the point of hazy where the only thing you can comprehend is what is immediately happening in front of you. object permanence? gone.

for the past few hours, you and the rest of the group you came here with downed shot after shot, drank beer after beer. no matter how high your tolerance was, tonight definitely pushed you over that line.

"xiaojun!" you shout across to your friend at the bar. he acknowledges you with a quick wave of his hand.

the others have their arms around each other's shoulders, foundering as they approach the exit. you lean against one of the walls right in front of the fog machine, waiting for dejun.

"come on, yn!" one of the girls shout, grabbing your wrist in her hands and linking you to the rest of the group. dejun finally makes his way back over, and instinctually you fling an arm around him, too.

the bunch of you look ridiculous; grown adults stumbling their way out of a club in the dark. half present smiles seemingly glued onto your faces. all of you count together as one by one, you take the couple of steps down onto the pavement.

once back on the street, you open your eyes to more than just a squint. the road looks the same as before. time has no effect on this district, neon signs still alight with strangers roaming the streets at any hour of the day. you bask in the warm orange glow of the lamp post directly above you, and you scan around for dejun's suv.

and that's when you see something across the road.

a tall, lean figure slanted against the hood of a car. you recognise his posture all too well.

oh shit. shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

you'd gotten so carried away tonight that you completely forgot that you weren't even supposed to be here. the drinks flushed every doubt, every worry out of your mind. it is only when your eyes see sicheng standing right across the road from you, and your mind consciously registers that, that every thing you tried to forget comes rushing back to you.

"xiaojun," you mutter under your breath, but he's not entirely in it, either.

sicheng spots the group of you, head tilted, and that's the moment he recognises you, in an outfit he'd never seen you in before, around people that he has seen before. he pushes himself off of the hood and crosses the road. you have exactly 3 seconds before you're done for.

the night is blustery, gentle, but breezy nonetheless. he's wearing a white button up with his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. as he's making his way towards you, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

sicheng takes 3 steps onto the pavement that you're on, and you are met face to face with the guard that you attempted to escape tonight. he quickly eyes the rest of your group, too drunk to even comprehend what is happening and who he is. a misstep happens and three of them stumble, fall, and stack on top of one another. they laugh it off.

he returns his gaze to you. "miss ln."

it's magical the way you suddenly feel sober. confrontation is one hell of an antidote. "listen," you breathe out. but it's no use, even you know it.

sicheng spares you no pity. "shall we head home?"

you don't know what you prefer: him still being cool and calm and collected, or have him be so seethingly furious with you like your father would be. in that moment, you decide that his reaction is much worse. how can he stand there with the state of you like this and still ask such a question with a steeled face? does he not care?

you look over to dejun, who has now walked around you to help his other friends get up.

trying to make up your mind whether to plead your case in that moment, there is something else that you can decide easier. going home with sicheng. there's no use fighting it, and frankly, you didn't want to. so, you take a step, passing by where sicheng stood in front of you, and then another, and until you're across the road about to get into the car. your friends left on the curb—they'll manage, you figured.

your body can't help but shake as you step into the passenger seat. a jittery feeling overtakes you. do you explain? do you not? what even is the explanation?

sicheng gets into the driver seat. he turns on the engine, back up from the parking spot, and begins to drive off, doing this all without a word.

you steal a glance over at him, not wanting to appear too sheepish. a sudden apologetic sentiment freezes your body, but that same feeling quickly turns sour. you open your mouth to speak, but no noise leaves you. quickly, you snap your head back around and lean against the window. the quietness of the car ride has you feeling all the effects of the events tonight.

"you didn't think i'd know?"

your eyes shift over. sicheng's focus is entirely on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that the veins on his arms are prominent under the moonlight. he might not sound angry, but his body language gives it away.

"no, i thought..." you take a deep breath in. "i don't know what i thought," you finally admit.

if he'd heard your answer, he gave no indication of it. he continues driving, fingers still clenched tightly around the wheel. his silence lingers around for a good few minutes. no music, nothing; just the sound of the friction of the tyres speeding against tarmac.

"if something had happened to you, do you know what that means? for all of us?" he asks, in a tone that's more or less condescending.

you stay quiet—you didn't see a point in arguing your case. or maybe it was just the alcohol taking the fight out of you, the steady rocking of the ride seem to begin to lull you to sleep.

the rest of the car ride home was silent. sicheng's grip never loosened. and you can tell none of his frustration dissipated by the way he slammed the car door shut.

as noiselessly as possible, the two of you slide in through the main doors into the foyer. you pull on the heels of your boots to take them off, struggling with your balance slightly. as you're about to make your way up to your room with your boots in your hands, sicheng stops you with one statement.

"i won't tell your father."

you turn, feeling a disjointed mix of emotions. you're relieved, but confused...? and grateful, but suspicious. "why?" you bluntly ask, questioning his ulterior motives if he has any.

sicheng takes a deep breath in and rolls his head to his left side. he takes a single step towards you. the rest of the house is dark, the only light being from the two sconces on either sides of the foyer. as he looks into your eyes, his irises are two swirling rings of mystery. you can never guess what he's thinking.

"because it won't look good on either one of us," he whispers. "if you wanted to go out, you could've just told me and i would've helped you," he added, now with a certain softness breaking into his gaze.

your focus shifts from one eye to the other. sicheng can read every wrinkle in your brow and every glint of confusion in your stare. what are you supposed to make of the fact that the man your father hired to watch you like a hawk is willing to help you get up to things your father will never approve of?

"but why?"

it's as if the drinks had broken down your every guard, every filter that you're so used to imposing on yourself. the bluntness in your tone is something even you didn't recognise.

"tonight proved that you would sneak out regardless of circumstances. so, why not tell me so i can at least keep you as safe as i can?"

sicheng finds himself exploring every inch of your face with his gaze, studying the smudged eyeliner and lipstick on you, before meeting your eyes again. he continues, "i have a job to do, you know?"

it seems as though you're not the only one with a broken down barrier. the formality in which he normally speaks with is nowhere to be heard.

"and why should i trust you?" there's an edge in your voice that makes the question come out as offensive. "i can't," you quickly add before he even has a chance to reply.

and now it's his turn to be stumped. your sudden change in attitude evokes a return of the wince in his eyebrows. "what do you mean?" he falters.

"i heard you yesterday." your head shakes, the clear of your eyes glisten with a lack of faith. "what am i supposed to think of you when you're actively hiding something from me?"

it's like a wave of realisation hits sicheng. he recalls the phone call that he took yesterday, and realises what you must've overheard. it takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts together.

"you can't possibly think that i would want to harm you."

"i don't know you!" you exclaim, maybe a bit too loud for this hour. "you waltz into my life and tell me that you're trying to save me, but i don't know you."

sicheng exhales and drops his head. his chest rises slowly as he takes in a deep lungful of air. "i didn't want to tell you because i didn't want you to feel... betrayed."

your body language communicates all there is to say. you urge him to go on with a shake of your head and a furrowing in your eyebrows.

"we have reason to believe that..." his voice is small, and soft, as if he's laying down cushioning for telling a child that santa claus isn't real. "the person threatening you runs in your immediate coterie."

your friends. that's what he's hinting at, that's what he's explicitly telling you right now. that possibly someone you went out with tonight have reason to threaten you. sicheng thought that telling you now would diffuse the situation, but in fact, it does the opposite.

"isn't that all the more reason for me to know? and you hid it from me for w-"

"yn," he corrects his slip of words, "miss ln." he cuts you off ever so calmly, "i understand that emotions are heightened right now. i think it's best we talk in the morning."

a knot works its way up into your own chest. your frustration is fuelled even more by his coolness. you stare at his ridiculously poised expression, and in that moment, you give up trying to argue.

you finally begin to walk up the stairs, with your boots still in your hands, ready to crash and give out onto your bed.

you wake up the next morning, or rather the same morning, with a throbbing pain in your head. one of your ears feels blocked and no matter what you do to try and make it so that noise isn't muffled as it filters into your ear, it doesn't work.

in the bathroom, you stare at your reflection and are in shock over how badly you removed your makeup last night. eyeliner stains the corners of your eyelids, patches of concealer are still on the sides of your face. you turn on the faucet, wait for it to become warmer, and scrub the remainder of the products off of your face.

in the midst of washing your face, you realise that you haven't had a proper meal since yesterday afternoon, as signalled by a grumbling in your stomach.

as discreetly as possible, you try to get out of your room, taking a gentle step out onto the hallway. you're not entirely sure why you needed to be stealthy, perhaps it's just the aftereffects of last night.

however, your plan to be concealed quickly falls to shambles as sicheng is, as always, guarding your door outside and your father is walking down the hallway heading in your direction. your heart starts to beat faster and faster; if sicheng didn't stick by his words last night then you are dead for all you know. that conversation you had in the foyer didn't leave your mind even for a second when you tried to fall asleep earlier, and you plan on following up on that talk he offered you.

your father reaches your room and stops to take one look at you.

"goodmorning, father." you utter. a tinge of sheepishness can't help but crawl onto the apples of your cheeks.

"goodmorning, dear," he stretches a warm smile directed towards you, and gives a simple nod of the head to sicheng.

so he didn't lie. that's the first thought following your relief that your father isn't absolutely furious with you. you glance at sicheng as your father walks past you continuing his way down the hallway. he flashes you an expression, one that says, 'what did i tell you?'

sicheng keeps his eyes on your father and as soon as he's out of earshot, he mutters, "surprised?"

a look of almost disbelief takes over you. the nerve on this guy. your heart almost jumped out of your chest and he has the cockiness to make a remark like that.

"stop fucking with me. you still owe me an explanation."

sicheng says with a simple shrug, "i've told you everything i know."

before you can speak back and challenge him, one of your housemaids yell out your name from the foyer.

you quickly make your way downstairs with sicheng following right behind you.

you spot priscilla kneeling down to pick up a package left right in front of the doors to the house. "what is it, priscilla?" you ask, as she begins to stand up again.

"i'm not sure—but it's addressed to you, miss," she responds, reading the tag tied to the parcel with a thin ribbon.

it's odd enough that a package made its way directly onto your doorsteps since the mail that you and your father receive are usually intercepted and collected at the mail room, or placed into your father's study. it's even more strange that it's directly addressed to you with your name typed and printed out in a sans-serif font.

you hold the box in one hand as your other goes to unravel the ribbon. you pull the knot through, and the box undoes itself. the 4 walls fall down revealing another note with your name on it, this time handwritten in a sparkly, gold paint.

you pick the note up and twirl it around with your fingers. sure enough, there's a message for you on the back. it looks like it was typed out on a traditional typewriter, it reads: "next time, i'll have your pretty head along with it" signed with kisses.

you suck in a sharp breath, a shock dawning on you. you look down at the opened box, under the note was a cushioning of tissue paper along with one earring. it took you a few seconds to study the singular earring, then it hits you: the pearl earring that you lost at the gala. your fingers begin to tremble, and sicheng watches as you're overcome with theories and conclusions.

he snatches the note from your hands, eyes scanning every word hastily and sees the earring in the box. it doesn't take him time to put two and two together.

immediately, he voices, "priscilla, did you see who left this outside?"

"no, uh, i opened the door because there was a knock and as soon as i saw the parcel with miss ln's name on it, i called for her." priscilla is evidently taken aback by the sharpness of sicheng's voice. her gestures are overt as she explains the situation.

sicheng pulls his phone out and his thumbs slide over the bottom part of his screen as he swiftly sends out a message.

he turns to you, "i'll go look over security footage right now. yn, go back up to your room." he motions over at priscilla as if to tell her that you needed to be escorted upstairs.

usually, you wouldn't just blindly listen to what anyone tells you, but your mind is running at 100 miles per hour. you recognise that gold paint, the writing, the flicks and hairline strokes that stylised your name. you've received a note from the same person before. only that last time, it wasn't as explicit a threat as it is this time.

...

you haven't stepped foot out of your room since sicheng told you to go back this morning. your maids have come up with breakfast and lunch earlier, but now it's well past dinner time, and the food outside your door remains untouched. the sky outside is darkening, with some rogue streaks of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

nonstop, you've been thinking it over and over in your head. putting together what sicheng told you and what you know yourself. someone close enough to you is threatening your life—but why? sure, there's the obvious reason that in a matter of days, you may possibly take over your father's title of mayor, but who would risk so much to send you a petty note? and everyone in your circle has a good enough status; what would they have to gain from this? surely, there's a blind spot that you must be missing.

your train of thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a knock at your door.

"come in!"

sicheng walks in to find you curled up in bed, knees tucked against your chest. he glances backwards briefly before closing the door behind him, "you didn't eat?"

"i'm not hungry."

you notice that he's not wearing his usual attire. a thin t-shirt covers his torso, and his regular slack pants are replaced by loose-fitting joggers. his footsteps are muted as he approaches you. there seems to be a debate in his mind whether or not he should be approaching you as he stops with at least 10 feet of space in between you and him.

"did you need me for something?" you mutter, patience thinning out on the edge of your voice.

you watch as he opens his mouth, but a response fails to be conjured up without a pause. "no, i just wanted to check on you."

you throw your blanket off of your feet and push yourself off the bed. the distance that sicheng left between the two of you disappears as you draw nearer to him.

you're not entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you look up at him and he returns your gaze. a breath hitches within you that you try your best to stifle. a knot forms in your throat and you swallow hard, dropping your eyes from sicheng.

"hey," he murmurs airily, bringing his hand up to your face. sicheng stops just short of cupping your face in his palms. you reach for his hand, taking it into your own, and he takes that as a sign to delicately graze your cheek with the side of his thumb. the lightness of his touch floats over your skin. "you're okay," he reassures you with a whisper.

it's hard to pinpoint what it is that you're feeling. there were books and lessons when you were growing up on how to be well-mannered, how to hone in your etiquettes, but there were never any rulebooks to teach you how to feel. especially, in a situation like this. how do we know if there's a right way to process our complexities?

you lean into sicheng's touch. "what can i do for you right now?" his tone coming off as a genuine offer of comfort, rather than him sounding like he is indebted to you.

finally, you lift your head, eyes running up against sicheng until it lands onto his again. "just stay with me tonight," though you meant it as a statement, bordering on an order, it ekes out of you with an uncertainty.

he nods, mouthing a soft 'okay.'

with his hand in your grip, you lead him to the edge of your bed. you can feel the hesitance in him, but he doesn't outright stop in his tracks. sliding into your covers, you shuffle over to make room for sicheng. admittedly, he didn't think this was what you meant when you asked him to stay with you tonight. he thought that he would just spend another night in the chair next to your bed, like he did before, but no.

you sit up against the headboard.

"you're... comfortable with this?" his voice is softer than dusk.

you nod, and with that, he slowly slides into your bed, a respectable distance between the two of you.

sicheng lays on his back, one hand behind his hand as you shift closer to him. though he tries his best to hide it on his face, the beating of his heart gives him away when you lay a hand over on his chest.

he rolls onto the arm closer to you, now face to face with you on the bed, leaving your hand in front of his chest on the mattress. he looks at you with a lustre in his eyes, the strong arches of his brows soften and his eyelids flutter.

you're close enough that you can hear the rhythm of his breathing and feel the warmth of his body against you. your fingers inch back onto his chest, running over the fabric of his shirt delicately, and onto his jawline. the tips of your index finger skim the contour of his chin, and up along his cheekbone. your eyes follow your fleeting touch against his face when it runs back down to the corner of his lips.

there's a few seconds in between you inching closer and closer to sicheng, and him whispering.

"we can't."

you stop—your breathing stops as well.

though you don't voice it out loud, the look in your eyes expresses every ounce of regret that you feel. your hand stiffens on sicheng's face, your fingers resting on the edge of his jaw.

his gaze flickers in between your eyes and your lips. it stays on your lips for a moment longer.

"i can't kiss you like we're lovers, when we're not."

the last three words slip out from his lips breathier than the rest.

you draw your body even closer to sicheng's, until there's only a sliver of empty space in between you.

"then, don't kiss me."

you plant a soft peck on his bare neck, and he can't bite back the tiny hum he lets slip. your lips stick to the warmth of his skin, a saltiness to it mixed with the clean scent of his cologne. simultaneously, he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers laid flat on the nape of your neck as he pulls you in closer.

his hand runs down the side of you, finding a spot on your waist which he grips onto tighter. your teeth grazes against a vein in his neck and a groan catches in his throat.

your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they start swaying forwards, colliding with sicheng's thighs. "what are you doing to me?" he mumbles under his breath, so faintly that you nearly couldn't make it out over your own humming against his neck.

sicheng is overtaken by instinct. his hand find its way between your thighs, sliding up and down over the softness of your skin. you can't help the purrs of approval that tumble out of you involuntarily.

his fingers trace soft, soft rings on the inside of your thighs, stopping just an inch below the hem of your shorts. whatever you've started, you needed to have more of it. you pull your lips away from him and wrap your fingers around his wrist that hovered so close to the heat pooling underneath you. if he wasn't going to touch you, you'd rather have him not tease you at all.

sicheng looks at you through half-lidded eyes with a faint tug on his lips, "put my hand where you want it."

you drag his hand an inch upwards, and almost naturally, sicheng finds his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shorts. "fuck," he breathes out. "you're not wearing anything underneath?" you smirk, unable to say anything because if you did, he would know how insane the raspiness in his voice drove you.

the tips of his fingers trace along the folds of your cunt, smearing your wetness all over. your breath escapes you shakily, and he revels at the sight of you. god. he knew you were pretty but you've never looked prettier than when you're squirming under his touch.

he rubs a loose circle around your clit with his middle finger, eyes steadily watching your every expression. your whole body is electrified. you feel as though you've come alive just from his touch. then, he draws another. you sink your teeth down into your bottom lip, trying to keep your breathing at a constant. the hand that you have wrapped around his wrist untightens itself and it runs up sicheng's arm, nails digging themselves into his bicep as his fingers move faster and faster on you.

then, they slow right back down. your eyelids shutter open fully, looking at him watching you with a gentleness.

he eases one finger inside of you, engulfed into your warmth. a gasp falls upon you quickly followed by a moan, which sicheng muffles with his other hand. he shushes, "you can hold it in, can't you?" you nod your head against his hand covering your lips. so badly, you want to just scream out his name, but you can't.

then, he slides another finger inside. the two of them drag up and down your heated walls, coated in a slickness. you struggle to keep from sounding out noises that ultimately gets caught in your throat. you pull his hand down from your mouth, managing a breathy, "fuck, sicheng."

he continues shushing you, balanced out with a subdued, "i know, i know." the length of his fingers carries on diving deeper and deeper into you, his thumb working small loops on your clit. you can't help but grind down against his hand, meeting him halfway with every stroke. your own fingers replaces his thumb, rubbing so relentlessly that it makes you throw your head back.

you begin to feel a tightening in your core. each moan that comes out of you is strained and muffled, your sealed lips pressing together so hard that it starts to become numb. "i'm so close," you try to voice out but a broken string of whimpers fall out instead.

your knees impulsively push themselves together, trapping sicheng's hand in between your thighs. "yeah, like that, baby. just like that," he picks up the pace in which he plunges his fingers in and out of you, "keep it quiet, though, okay?"

at this point, you've lost focus on what he's saying. the only thing on your mind is how good his fingers feel inside of you, and the violent pressure that your own fingers are exerting isn't helping. your arm is starting to ache when you finally begin to feel the release in your core. the knot tied in your stomach falls apart and so do you. your hand stops and grabs onto sicheng's wrist again. each moan that's knocked out of you quickly transitions into you panting for air. all sicheng can do is caress your cheek as you slowly come down and steady yourself again against his embrace.

you lay there next to him as you're catching your breath. sicheng comforts you with words that you can't quite hear. you take his hand up to your face, fully shutting your legs together, and lick the slickness off of his fingers. he watches you with a groan as you take his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. you pull his hand away slowly, and when your lips close together, he lets go of a deep sigh.

sicheng looks deeply into your eyes, the faintest trace of satisfaction visible on his face. "get some rest now, okay?"

a part of you doesn't want to just stop now, but the other part of you is worn out beyond repair, not just from this. your post-orgasm crash wears over you like a spell putting you to sleep, and you have no will left to fight it. so, before you know it, you drift off to sleep with sicheng's arms wrapped tightly around you and your face pressed up against his chest.

he wasn't supposed to and he wasn't planning to, but sicheng dozed off last night with you cuddled up against him. the only thought running through his head this morning: i fucked up. and that's only taking into account that he literally slept with you next to him.

the chorus of bird chirps sounds aloud from out in the garden. the bright symphonies fill the morning air.

as slowly as he can, he pulls his arm back from underneath you, a tingling feeling spreading from where your head laid upon it. hushedly, he slides his legs off of the edge of the bed, trying not to wake you. he stands up, and his movements are halted by a hum from you.

your eyes peer open, and sicheng is glancing back at you. "morning," he clears his throat, "i didn't want to wake you."

"it's alright," your voice scratches. you push yourself onto your palms and sit up, straightening your back. "um," you stutter out, looking around your bed to avoid any eye contact. there's an unspoken tension between you and sicheng that you can sense right away.

sicheng presses his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand and echoes your filler words.

you want to ask out loud, 'why is it so awkward?' but that will probably do nothing to help ease the atmosphere.

sicheng breaks the silence, "i shouldn't have... came in last night."

your eyes dart towards him, but he's looking down at your sheets. is it bad that you felt a sinking in your chest right as he said that? you didn't think you regretted what happened, but maybe you should given what sicheng's stance on it is.

"i don't..." you trail off, unable to finish the rest of your thought.

"it was my mistake. we don't... have to talk about it."

"is that what it was to you? a mistake?" words take over you before your rational thinking can catch up. if you really slowed down and thought it over, his words probably didn't warrant as much of a reaction, but in the moment, you're hurt and that's all you can focus on.

"no, i mean," sicheng struggles to find the proper words to expand on his point. as he opens his mouth again to speak, he's interrupted by someone else knocking at your door.

the knock is closely followed by a call out of your name, "miss ln!"

it distracts you from the conversation, but sicheng's comment is actively sitting on the back burner of your mind. "yes?" you return.

"your father has arranged some prior engagements for you. your chauffeur is waiting for whenever you're ready."

you can't help but let out your frustration in the form of a quiet 'ugh,' before going back and thanking the messenger, which they then dismiss themselves.

you're not in the mood for whatever errand your father has arranged for you. one, because your body is so physically tired out for some reason that even getting up out of bed will take a substantial amount of effort, and two, sicheng will follow you to whatever activity and there won't be a conclusion to this conversation you're having because there's no way you're willing to discuss this in public.

sicheng speaks up after the footsteps travel away from outside your bedroom door, "i'll leave you to get ready."

"don't-"

but sicheng completely disregards you, and leaves you alone in your room.

...

turns out that the 'errand' your father has planned for you was to pick out a few outfits from the atelier. this past week you've been so preoccupied busying yourself with activities that you haven't fully recognised that your father will officially announce you as his successor in a couple days' time. that means more responsibilities, more problems. you don't know if you're fully prepared for it, but it was never up to you; it never has been.

you posed like a mannequin for the seamstress for a good couple of hours. every blazer and every skirt being tailored to fit you perfectly. sicheng sat in the beige couch in the corner watching patiently as she took in your measurements, held up garment after garment up to you in the mirror, and finally was content with what she had created for you.

by the time you were done, you had a handful of bags in each hand, each containing a new bespoke outfit made just for you.

you're walking out of the studio with your new belongings in your hands, sicheng opening the door for you. the designer bids you an affectionate goodbye and you step out onto the concrete, heading for your ride parked in the middle of the lot.

during the whole of this visit, sicheng hasn't said a word to you. and vice versa. so when he's the first to say something, you try to look at him with an indifference in your expression.

"let me carry the bags," he offers.

"i'm alright, thank you."

you'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little bit upset with him. although you knew there's nothing to be achieved from petty displays of stubbornness, you wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine: his nonchalance, and frankly apathetic attitude.

he doesn't challenge you, perhaps he knows better than to do exactly that. his footsteps trail behind you as you approach the car. your chauffeur pulls open the door to the backseats for you before returning to the driver's seat. sicheng simply observes as you begin to load in the bags, not wanting to tick you off even more by helping.

he catches a flare in the mirror image of the window panes all the way up on the rooftop of a nearby building. he swivels his head around, looking directly at where the spark was in the reflection. his throat tightens.

"yn, get in the car." the calmness in his voice wasn't something you weren't used to, but as you turn and find him fixated at a spot up on a roof, an alarm starts ringing in your head. "now."

you jump up onto the ledge of the footboard and hop inside with a slight panic. sicheng grabs all the remaining bags and throws it in with you. he hastily slams the back door shut and turns his focus towards that same spot again. you can barely see out of the tinted panes, but you think you hear a distant pop and sicheng's body jerks, curving his spine inwards. he clambers into the front seat, a hint of franticness in his movements. the passenger door shuts with a crash and sicheng flings his head back against the headrest.

"drive. go, now." he tells the chauffeur, clearly in a state of confusion, but he listens to sicheng. his voice is weak and breathy, like he just ran a marathon.

you push your way up to the space in between the front seats. "sicheng... what happened?" apprehension sounding out in your words.

he gives a faint shake of the head, his hand gripping tightly onto the fabric over his shoulder as he swallows a lump in his throat. you mutter a faint, 'oh my god,' under your breath as you go to pull his hand away.

sicheng breathes deeper and deeper. you uncover a small hole in his shirt, the edges splayed out with raw threads hanging off of it.

"sicheng-"

"i'm okay," he exhales. does he know how ridiculous he sounds?

a wave of distress suddenly overtakes you. "you're-"

"don't worry, i'm okay."

half of your mind has gone blank, and the other half is still stuck in 5 minutes ago before whatever happened, happened. words tumble out of you, laced with confusion and unease.

...

as soon as you arrive home, you barge in telling your housemaids to call over your doctor. sicheng has one arm wrapped around the chauffeur as he inches in with his help, his other arm limp by his side.

everything blurs past you.

sicheng is set down on the long leather couch, laying against the arm as he holds his shoulder. someone pushes past you to tend to sicheng's injuries, and all you can do is stand and stare.

...

you sit on the other end of the couch watching as the nurse is wrapping bandage around sicheng's shoulder, his torso completely bare. he grunts as she pulls tighter on the strip looping underneath his arm.

"you're lucky it didn't hit you in the ribs, or it'd be a lot worse."

sicheng mutters a soft, 'i know,' sucking in a steady breath.

the bullet sits in a tray next to the couch, completely clean, the light ricochets off of it and it gleams.

you look back over to sicheng, a deep burgundy already seeping its way underneath his skin. if it weren't for the bulletproof undershirt he was wearing, you'd be looking at admitting him into the ER. still, he's not completely devoid of any injuries.

the nurse said that aside from bruising, he had a fracture to his collarbone. "it should heal on its own anywhere in between 6 to 12 weeks."

you nod, and she gives you a brief smile before she helps fasten the sling around sicheng's neck and begins packing up her kit.

several sets of footsteps approach the doorway to the guest room that sicheng was set down in. you don't look over, eyes fixated on sicheng as he winces at any slight movement that he does affecting his injured collarbone.

the footsteps move in closer and closer to you. sicheng hears them as well and opens his eyes. "sir," he manages gravelly.

you and the nurse simultaneously look up, and there you see your father with his assistant a few steps behind him. he nods towards the nurse.

"the doctor couldn't make it on such short notice, but mr. dong's injuries are mild. i've already informed miss ln of mr. dong's condition," the nurse explains to your father.

"thank you for your help," your father tells the nurse. she picks up the kit that she brought with her and bows her head before leaving the room.

the expression on your father's face is ambiguous to say the least.

sicheng takes your father's silence as an opportunity, "i should've been more careful. i'm sorry..."

your father inhales shakily, "it was too close, yes." he looks over at you sitting on the couch, then back at sicheng, "but yn wasn't injured, and i have you to thank for that."

"it's my duty," sicheng simply responds.

your father gives him a satisfied smile. "take some time to rest, i'll have someone else look over your responsibilities for now."

with that, your father and his assistant leaves you and sicheng alone in the guest room, now allocated for his recovery.

you haven't said a word to him since the car ride back.

you sit on the edge of the couch, palms planted flat on either side of you. "does it hurt?" you look over, and sicheng leans on the sofa back, his injured arm suspended in a black mesh sling. his eyes are closed as he takes in a heavy breath after another.

he opens his eyes up to a squint, glancing over at you. "a bit," you think he's gone insane when you see a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

you shift over towards sicheng, his unwounded shoulder being closer to you. the bandages the nurse had wrapped him up in doesn't entirely cover up his bruising. a gradient of pink, red, and purple spreads over atop his pecs. your fingers trace over his abdomen, hovering when you draw near his injury. "you scared me," you whisper.

"i know," sicheng says, "i'm sorry."

"why would you do that?"

he looks at you, a dazedness in his eyes, "do what?"

"take a bullet like that." you gulp, feeling the coarseness in your throat.

sicheng expels a weak chuckle. "to be honest, i didn't think i would." you peer at him with a tilt of your head. "i was so focused on you not getting hurt, but now that i think about it..."

he trails off.

"what?" you prompt gently.

"i don't think they were aiming at you."

your eyebrows raise themselves gingerly.

"i mean, they had every opportunity to... shoot you, but they didn't. with the time it took me to even notice them, they could've gotten the job done and vanished."

you realise what sicheng's implying. and you suppose he is right. thinking it over in your head, your reaction wasn't the fastest, given the state of shock and confusion that you were in. so, that means they were gunning for sicheng. but why?

he carries on, "and with where the bullet hit me—it was nowhere even near where you were stood." he shakes his head, "it just doesn't make sense."

"so, why?"

"i mean, i don't-"

"no. why would you ever risk yourself like this? a job like this; it surely isn't the first time you got injured."

sicheng looks at your face, so painstakingly close to his. he runs his good hand through your hair, twirling the ends of a strand in between his fingers. "it's not," he smiles weakly, but falls short of an answer to give to you.

you swallow hard. "you know, you've made it clear to me countless times that you're supposed to keep me safe... but who looks after you?"

"i can manage myself."

"i know—you're more than capable. but..." the words you're speaking has to be dragged out of you, a broken intonation. "that's not the same as looking after yourself."

he drops his gaze from yours, fingers now fidgeting and cracking his knuckles as a means of escape from this conversation.

"you don't let me kiss you, you want to forget whatever we did and dismiss it as a mistake. that's fine, but is that what you want, or is it just your guard?"

he turns his head towards yours, but still avoiding eye contact with you. for a moment, you thought he would say something, but he doesn't.

you sigh.

"just let me take care of you while your shoulder heals, okay? i'm here."

you're about to push yourself off of the couch, you lean back, but sicheng holds onto your hand. he draws you in to the spot you were at before. your faces inches apart from each other.

he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, "kiss me."

your heartbeat drums against your lungs. you slide your fingers up onto his face, pulling him in closer. and gently, you oblige.

his lips fit yours perfectly, as if you were both individually sculpted for each other. you try not to lean onto sicheng given his injury, so the most pressure you put on him is through your hands pulling him closer into you. you press your mouth against the softness of his lips, a tenderness to his movements. he breathes your scent in, and it's like it completely soothes the sharpness in his shoulder. you take him in deeper and deeper. his lips had a hint of peppermint to them, but sweeter. he let you utterly devour him against your own lips, fuelling a desire you didn't know you had in you. god, you didn't want to pull away, but your stupid, stupid lungs had to regather some air within them. and you part from him with a gentle smack.

sicheng's eyelids flutter open, like you'd just woken him from a dream. "if your father ever finds out-"

you shush him with a finger up to his mouth. and you attach your lips onto his again.

you're deep into your sleep when you hear alerts coming in nonstop on your phone. you stayed in sicheng's room with him; he's asleep on the bed and you've decided to give him more room by taking the couch. you open your eyes groggily, the sky outside doesn't make it clear to you what time it is. reaching out onto the coffee table, your phone doesn't stop buzzing in your hand.

the brightness of the screen causes you to squint. messages roll in, from dejun. without reading the notifications first, you click onto the grey bubbles. a litter of text threads open up on your phone. ones reading, "are you okay?" and "i heard what happened," and of the like.

stiffly, you go to type in a response. you tell dejun that you're fine, briefly glossing over the situation.

...

the second time you wake up this morning is when you hear sicheng talking to someone just outside of his room, the conversation muffled. he shuffles back in and you're more or less glaring at him, unintentionally.

"who was that?" you strain.

"um," he lightly massages the back of his neck. "they... found the shooter. and he talked."

that instantly catches your attention. you sit up straight, and signal to sicheng to take a seat next to you on the couch.

he slowly paces himself over, his back kept upright the entire time as he sits down next to you.

"the shooter is no one special, but," he begins, an almost sheepish look on him, "he told us who sent him. and we think that it's the same person who sent you that note, with your earring."

"who?" you jump in, impatient for him to tell you.

sicheng looks into your eyes for a split second. the sky outside is still dark. half of your face is lit by the orange ember that glows out from the fireplace.

"who?" you repeated, this time a little bit louder.

"i don't know how close you are to her. rin? full name, rina lee. her dad... owed some debts to your father."

your brows furrow. rin? you've only met her once, and that was at mrs. xiao's gala. what would prompt her to threaten you to such an extreme?

"i'm sorry, it must be-"

"no- what else do you know?"

sicheng sucks in a quick breath. "well, it's rumoured that her father, mr. lee, took a loan from your father. it was never paid back... and let's say your father didn't like that."

you didn't know what to make of your emotions—what to make of yourself. did you deserve this?

subconsciously, you start shaking your head lightly. you were in denial, but of what, you didn't know.

"i'm sorry," is all sicheng can say to provide you with some semblance of solace.

"i just..." you breathe out a heavy breath, "i can't believe it."

"i know, but it'll be over, soon. you'll take on your father's role tomorrow, isn't that something to look forward to?" sicheng tries his best to divert your focus away from the news.

you scoff. and then a sigh.

"i guess."

sicheng runs a hand over your head, smoothing over your hair, "let's go back to sleep, it's still early."

the whole of yesterday you spent getting ready, signing agreements, and attending meeting after meeting with your father. you'd spent the night before tossing and turning, unsure of if you'd be happy with this route that you're headed in.

last night, you were doing the same. tossing, turning, thinking. you never really had a choice, and it's weird how you feel apathetic towards that.

you've always lived comfortably and maybe you're just not ready for that to change yet, that's what you thought to yourself.

you woke up this morning, still a bit shaken up, mind still fuzzied from how your life has spiralled seemingly out of your control over the last week.

and now you're standing behind the drawn back curtain to the balcony, where your father's speech is being broadcasted live.

"serving as mayor to this beautiful district has been one of my greatest prides. but i'm afraid people grow old, and i am experiencing that for myself first hand."

your father's voice wavers, and it stings your cheeks a little.

"nonetheless, i know there has been rumours going around surrounding my retirement. i would like to keep this concise. today, i am officially stepping down as the mayor of district V, and appointing my daughter to serve the rest of my term." he turns towards you, hand stretching out in your direction, and you step out onto the landing.

your father steps aside to grant you some space on the podium. you take a deep breath in, before crouching down slightly to speak into the microphone.

"it is my honour to be appointed the role of mayor for a district as notable and celebrated as district V." you recite the script that your father's assistant had written for you, the syllables drilled into your brain throughout all the practices yesterday.

you remember the words that the assistant had said to you, 'this district's citizens don't care much for politics. they just want to know if they can continue living in their merry way as they did before.'

"i will see to it that this transition is as seamless as possible, and i will do my best to humbly serve each and every citizen to the best of my ability. thank you."

you back away from the podium and disappear off where it is visible on the landing. your father continues on delivering the rest of his spiel.

it's been less than a minute since you've officially accepted your new position, but you can already feel a tightening around your chest. you plop down on a chair all the way on the opposite end of the balcony, thinking it over again. is this what you want?

that's when you catch sicheng peering into the room from the hallway.

"what are you doing here? you should be resting," you jump up onto your feet.

"i didn't get to see you yesterday, so i thought i should at least congratulate you today."

you sigh, and plaster a grin onto your face, "thank you."

sicheng takes one step closer to you. "so, miss mayor, i suppose i'm no longer at your service?"

slowly, you can feel a genuine smile twinging at your lips, "you wish." you swiftly glance over at where your father is, back still facing you. you steal a quick peck from sicheng. he looks at you with his eyes wild.

"what?" you tease.

even though you're not sure the path given to you is what you want, you know that as long as sicheng is by your side, you'll manage to find joy in the little moments. the stolen kisses. and the fleeting glances.

and it's not for ever, anyway. just until this term ends.

"you are now under me," you whisper with a smirk.

humming, he raises his eyebrows with interest. "so, what's the first order of business?"

you roll your eyes. "focus on healing your shoulder up, and then we'll talk."

he leans in closer to your face, a cheeky spark in his eyes. "yes, ma'am."

© misted-dream 2024

thank you for reading between heaven and hell ! this fic is a part of a series which you can learn more about here ! hope you enjoyed :)

[dxstopiaa]

Serene Slumbers

Synopsis: Why dream alone when your whole world is beside you? Drabbles on how they sleep! \(^ヮ^)/

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Al Haitham and Cyno x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Cyno’s jokes and Xiao’s past, otherwise just fluff and typical domestic romance with your husband! [I think my layouts look much nicer as of late. Enjoy loves! I’m open to suggestions and other drabbles <3]

[Now Playing: Dark Red- Steve Lacy]

Zhongli

- Of course, being of the seven archons, Zhongli had a rich, informative memory. If you were to play a guessing game on what exactly he didn’t know, you’d be as old as he was. Nobody’s traditional knowledge surpassed his.

- Hence why you were delighted whenever you would cuddle up against your dearest husband, enthusiastically nodding when he offered to tell you a tale of his own. He was just so sweet when he rambled on what he was passionate about.

- The former archon always made sure to have some sort of therapeutic tea and incense to soothe you both asleep afterwards, and don’t even hesitate asking him to play with your hair or massage your neck too.

“So, anything special happen today, dearest?” Zhongli’s question awoke you from your reverie, you currently laid on the opposite side of the bed, legs freely swinging in the air as you admired your lover.

It was moderately late, the chatting of people outside had reduced significantly, whilst the coos of nocturnal birds could be heard faintly. All that remained was the comfortable silence and muffled miscellaneous sounds.

“Not much…Is this your way of drawing my attention back to you?” You quizzed, a grin tugging on the corners of your lips, with Zhongli returning a curt hum of approval. Being truthful, your quietness had surprised him a little. Usually, you’d be talking more.

Novelty cups of brewed drinks set on a tray invited the tea enthusiast to sip some, an action he could perform before he could decide on what to do. You merely looked up at him.

“How does a story sound, my love?” Zhongli offered, placing the fine porcelain onto the vacant plate. He removed his gloves and tailcoat, unbuttoning and rolling the sleeves of his magnolia shirt up, to make himself comfortable.

A common practice of his, soothing you into a deep slumber with his silky, baritone voice. But you seemed to be more focused on something else, or rather something else about him. So distracted you couldn’t seem to register his question.

Those gorgeous golden veins running over his visible chest and biceps, or the geo insignias on his palms and back. The same hue as those aureate irises which would deliver such ardent gazes. To be honest with yourself, the very same thought you entranced yourself with earlier that night.

“Oh, sorry, sure!” You sheepishly replied, averting your glance and moving to sit beside him. Being as observant as he is, Zhongli found your behaviour was unusual. Slender fingers grasped your chin, pulling your face closer to his own as he momentarily observed the pink tint to it.

“Something distracting you, sweetheart?” And then, you could of sworn your cheeks currently resembled the colour of a rose. Just the way he gently swayed you into him more, gripping your waist with the other hand.

“It’s just-” You were interrupted with his lips capturing yours, easily rendering you wordless. Your husband already knew why, no need to explain when you melting against him already spoke louder than your stammering words. He pulled away.

“Does my identity as Morax still captivate you that much, love?”

Xiao

- At first, Xiao was extremely cautious, he was frightened of harming you with his karmic debt if you got too close, for too long. It would begin with a simple hand resting above your head. But after a tedious amount of reassurance, he deemed placing a hand around your abdomen wouldn’t hurt.

- Your husband insisted that sleep wasn’t something he needed, though you caught him dozing off. He just looked so gorgeous when resting with you, those piercing iris reduced to calm, closed eyes.

- Night terrors were not new nor rare to him— frequently he’d wake up, ghosts of tears which were long ago wiped away with your gentle touch. You understood all he’d been through as the last Yaksha, you longed to do nothing but comfort him. Weak was the last thing you saw him as.

Those hideous, sinister memories clouded his mind. His friends— family, being torn and ripped apart, their souls in agony. It felt harder to breathe, Xiao could feel his throat closing up, jolting upright to wake himself from that graphic nightmare. Tears of fury and desolation welled up in his eyes, his ungloved hands coming to tug at his hair. It was all too much.

Feeble, he thought of himself, unable to accept and move on from the emptiness in his heart, if humans could do it why couldn’t he? Your lover’s breathing became irregular, now entering a state of self-induced hysteria and panic. Now he was definitely crying, that cynical shell torn to shreds.

The sound of sniffling alerted you, immediately looking to your side to see your husband sat up, discreetly suffering again. Your heart clenched at the sound, you longed for him to be free from his undeserved karma. You quickly flicked the bedside lamp on, handing a glass of water to Xiao.

No matter how much he tried to avoid you looking at him, it didn’t work. You lovingly fondled his face, stroking the remnants of his tears away. He simply slouched, fixing his eyes onto the bedsheets he desperately clutched in his hands.

“Dear? Was it the night terrors again?” You sympathetically whispered, pushing back the tresses of turquoise which concealed his face from you. He merely nodded, opting to stay quiet. No matter how long it would take, you would sit beside him until he felt better.

And he loved you for it. You made him feel more safe than he had felt in eons, always there to listen and care for him. You were so unselfish and forgiving, like no other mortal he’d ever met. That’s what made you special, made you his first love.

His breathing eventually stabilised, head no longer pulsating from the migraine, his vision had returned to normal too. Xiao turned to face you, an unreadable expression. His calloused hands tucked you into the covers, placing his hand on your forehead as if you were sick.

It was adorable to say the least, he obviously wanted to reciprocate your gesture. Xiao soon laid down too, a comfortable silence enveloped you both. You hummed to yourself, thinking of something to lull him to sleep.

“How does some almond tofu sound? Not the healthiest, but it’ll help you relax.” You offered, not missing the slight glimmer in his eyes. With no further response, you assumed that was a yes, briefly exiting the room to bring a refrigerated container of the sweet meal.

That night, the fog which was ever-present in Xiao’s mind cleared, forgetting his troubles as you fed him the delicacy and recalled stories and events of that day. Oh, how lucky he was to have you.

“…Thank you, dear.”

Al Haitham

- As expected, a light sleeper. It doesn’t matter how exhausted he gets, even the simplest of sounds will wake him immediately. Not the best when you try arrange some sort of surprise for him.

- Despite this, Al Haitham is by no means a morning person. He despises having to wake up for his duties which were practically forced upon him as the Acting Grand Sage. He’d much rather prefer staying with you.

- He absolutely adores it when you cling onto him, forcing his hesitant self into your warm embrace, tracing lines with your finger over his chiseled abdomen, or the peculiar emerald implanted on his chest.

Distant chirping of coupled birds nesting, or the streams of light peering through the gaps of the curtains, the curt gentle breathing of your beloved beside you— all signs that morning had arrived some time ago. These sounds you often overlooked, too consumed in your own duties to value the nature surrounding you.

Your eyes averted themselves to your waist, restricted in a grasp you struggled to pry yourself from. As comforting as it was, your schedule was quite packed today. No lie-ins you told yourself. But that was difficult to execute.

Al Haitham’s fingers were intertwined with yours, his face nestled into your neck, feeling steady rising of his chest. He just looked so peaceful— without that signature frown and undecipherable look in his eyes, rather with a slight smile. You’d hate to awaken him, maybe you could make breakfast before he wakes up?

Gradually, you shifted his arms onto the blanket you once slept on, wriggling out of his hold. Now sitting upright, you brushed through your hair with your fingers, dissipating whatever knots were there prior. Your attempts to sneakily get away were halted, the quiet, raspy voice of your husband audible.

“Where are you going?” Al Haitham muttered, emerald eyes cracked open obscurely through his lashes. Your breath hitched, looking over at him once more. You caressed his platinum hair, determining whether you should tell him or not.

“Haitham…I was going to make coffee for us, it’s getting late now, we’ve got to head to the Akademiya soon.” You sighed, feeling him deflate slightly at your words. Yes, you’d love to stay in his exclusive company for longer, but there were priorities.

“Doesn’t matter, just don’t go…please.” Your husband whispered, the plead quieter than the rest of his sentence. Your mind was a mess, how could you deny such a heartfelt request? Persuade him more perhaps?

“I’d love to, but you’re forgetting who you are, Mr. Grand Sage.” You replied, resting your head on the oak bed frame. This time, he grumbled a bit, glancing up at you tiredly.

“Acting, I’m not taking up something i didn’t sign up for, darling.” Al Haitham corrected, watching you slump further into the bedsheets beside him. It was quite easy for him to get you to listen to him— you loved him too much, just as he adores you.

“You’re so-” You tried to fire back, but you were too late, he reached up to kiss you gently on the cheek, pulling your waist towards him to coerce you beside him. You were in the same position as you were just ten minutes ago.

“Insufferable? Yeah, I know, just come here.”

Cyno

- Contrary to popular belief, the alert general is actually quite a deep sleeper, whether that’s a good thing or not, it depends. Sure, you were able to get ready before him, but it was almost impossible to wake him up verbally.

- Cyno, much to your annoyance, snores a lot. Though that was better than if he was to sleep talk. You could already imagine the migraine you would of had from his tragic puns.

- Your otherwise stoic husband prefers to sleep with you in his arms, safe and protected with him. It didn’t matter much if you were snuggled up against him, head on his toned chest, or if you were simply facing his direction, a hand lazily slung over your waist.

- He doesn’t like to sleep when wearing tight clothing, for he finds it constricting and rather irritating. Cyno would often have some loose shirt on, other times nothing on at all— of course he wears underwear. Can’t have you thirsting over him when he’s trying to sleep.

The miniature clock on the wall of your bedroom— a keepsake from your own home, currently displayed five in the morning. So close to your alarm going off, but you haven’t even had a full half-hour of sleep. All because of your noisy lover’s snoring.

It was difficult to tell if you were even conscious from the deprivation of precious rest. Cyno laid on his back, his angelic, ivory hair strewn across his forehead severely contrasted the demonic snorts he emitted. The urge to grab his shoulders and shake him awake was overwhelming.

“Cyno.” You meekly uttered, prodding his cheek lightly. He didn’t retaliate, simply unreactive from the deep slumber. Archons, another issue to deal with. You frowned, glancing yet again at him as you waited for what seemed like an eternity— no longer than a minute really.

“Love!” You audibly exclaimed this time, efforts in vain as he just turned over to his side, swatting away the idea of letting you sleep peacefully. You groaned, massaging your temples in frustration. Guess there’s only one last resort now. With the best tone you could muster, you imitated a masculine voice.

“General Mahamatra!” You bellowed, pinching his arm as he almost fell off the bed, yelping in surprise. It took your husband a while to realise what was happening, groaning when he looked at your irritated face. He let out a displeased grumble, blankly waiting for what you had to say to him, but it never came.

“Yes dear, what’s the issue?” Cyno groggily huffed, although the glower on your face was quite adorable, despite how you tried to seem angry with him. You crossed your arms over your chest, an exasperated sigh left your lips.

“Please! I can’t sleep with your snoring, It’s almost as bad as your jokes!” You implored, hugging the plushie he had gifted you prior, which now lived full-time on your bed. At that, he snickered, stomach rising and falling in laughter to mask that prodding offence at your comment.

“You could say i’m snore-ing you to sleep.” Cyno cackled, usually your heart would start fluttering at the sound of his amusement, but now you felt your eyes twitch. “You know, boring…snoring—” He cleared his throat, as if you’d want to hear any more.

“Cyno! No more!” You shrieked, moving to sit on top of him as you repeatedly hit him with the pillow, his uncharacteristic giggles sounding through the room. His protests fell on deaf ears, all thanks to the quite aggressive action of yours. Luckily, that little flush on his face wasn’t visible in the night.

You soon collapsed onto him, face buried into the crook of his neck. Cyno felt a little apologetic, smoothing his hands over your messy hair. Finally, peace at last.

[hanckocks-dagger]

oh, the night's so blue

masterlist

John hancock x f!reader

Description: After a drunken one night stand with your boss and mayor, you'd planned on hiding out in your room for several months. Those plans get delayed when Nate, general of the Minutemen and your childhood friend, asks you to join him on a quest in the west of the Commonwealth.

Tags: Drunken one night stand, Hancock is a pining simp, and a slut. Reader is not SoSu, has afab characteristics and is referred to with she/her pronouns through the story. No y/n

Warnings: Smut! Drunk sex, consentual but I'll throw in the dubcon tag anyway, talk of violence, guns and drugs a lá Fallout ofc

Word count: 6.1K

Notes: So this is a one-shot that sort of feeds into an idea I've had in my head for a while, of a reader that knew Nate from before the bombs, who either ended up in Vault 111 as well or something similar, but got out about a year before Nate did. This might end up turning into a series of semi-connected one-shots or I might just cut it off here, but I definitely have some other ideas for this story rolling around in my head. More story focused than some of my other fics, delving a bit more into what actually living in the game's story would be like, but of course a hefty dose of our lovely Hancock. But I really like Nate, and I didn't want to make the reader the Sole Survivor so we could see the two of them interact. Also my Nate build is usually high charisma, high strength and low intelligence (idiot savant perk ofc), so he's a bit of a himbo <3 my fav type of man.

Also just a small and totally irrelevant thing, but I headcanon Nate/the sole survivor as choosing not to smoke, just because the player isn’t able to smoke in the game. Just a fun tidbit I threw in there. Also, I’m a smoker and I have friends who aren’t and the relentless back and forth teasing is always fun. They all vape anyway, so it’s just a race for who gets cancer first lmao. 

Cross posted on my ao3!

"What's the status on the top shelf stuff?" You yelled out from the back room, wiping drops of sweat from your forehead before they could drop into your eyes. Sure, the new beer tap was ingenious, making the closest thing to actual fresh beer since you'd come out on this side of the cryo-chamber, but goddamn were the canisters heavy.

"Almost out of moonshine, luv," Charlie called from the bar, tinny cockney accent carrying through the open space.

That was fine, you could drop by and speak to Vadim tomorrow before opening, as long as Hancock could supply the caps and lend you some help to carry the bottles back.

"Anything else?" You grunted, heaving a full canister back out to the front, bending down to connect the pipes.

"I think you should start carrying some Fireball, I know how much you used to like it," A new voice spoke up from the other side of the bar, startling you into banging your head on the underside of the bartop. You cursed, shooting to your feet, finding a ginning, familiar face on the other side.

"Nate!"

He said your name back with the same amount of enthusiasm, slouched in one of the barstools, familiar bright blue vault suit looking a little worse for wear.

"When did you get in? How did you get in?" You asked, eyes flitting about. Sure enough, there in the background, spread over one of the couches was mayor Hancock, speaking with a smiling Magnolia and a broody looking MacReady.

"Just landed in town, figured I'd come say hi before crashing at the Rexford."

"Well, shit," You breathed, wiping your sweaty hands on a dishrag, "Can I get you a drink? I want to hear about this oh-so-secret mission you were on."

"Sure, I'll take a beer."

You fished over a clean-ish looking glass, gave it a quick wipe for good measure, and poured. The movements were practiced, muscle memory from a lifetime ago taking over as you tilted the glass, filled it, flicked the spout the other way for some top foam. You slid it over the bar, accepting Nate’s smile as payment. 

You grabbed yourself a glass, calling out to Charlie as you filled the glass with ice, “I’m calling it a night, just leave me a list of whatever needs to be done in the morning.

You poured yourself some of the top shelf stuff, nothing good by pre-war standards, but nowadays it was rare and mostly didn't taste like it was 200 years old.

You stepped around the bar, planning on planting yourself on a stool next to Nate, but he was already rising to his feet, heading for the rest of the group.Hiding your awkwardness, you trailed after him. You knew MacReady tangentially, sometimes bringing him drinks into the backroom, keeping an eye out for disagreements and sometimes running up to get Ham when things were getting out of hand. Magnolia was your coworker of course, and there was plenty to talk about after long shifts, but she was– technically speaking– about twenty years your senior, and married to her job in a way you weren't.

Then there was Mayor Hancock. A charming flirt at the best of times, happy to stand up for you on the job, as the owner of the bar, after all, but there was always something about him you never managed to crack, never straying away from genial small talk. Small talk, of course, these days, meant discussing the last Super Mutant raid, or let him rattle off about his favorite chems. As you approached, he tipped his hat at you and you responded with a little curtsy, using your free hand to tug on your apron like a skirt. 

You fell onto the couch beside Nate, stirring your drink with a finger, using your other hand to untie the apron around your waist. Being off your feet felt good. There were no clocks in the Third Rail, and no windows, so your sense of time tended to get a bit skewed, but seeing as Ham usually tossed out the stragglers by 5 am and you'd had a mess and a half to clean up, you assumed it must be closing in on dawn. A rough 12 hour shift made your liquor feel earned, as you sipped at it, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

"So," You said, catching Nate's attention before he could get sucked into the others' conversation, "What was the notorious General of the Minutemen up to this week? Liberating some more settlements?"

"Mmm, actually doing some work for the Railroad," His tone went hushed, unnecessary and strangely endearing, as everyone in the bar knew and was at least non-committal about their activities.

"Ahh," You replied, matching his tone. "Did it go well?"

"It went fantastically. I brought my own team in," He motioned with his beer toward Hancock and MacCready, "But we ended up getting some help from another agent, too. And, man, what a lady," he went a bit starry eyed, making you laugh.

"Got a little crush, Nathaniel?"

He snorted, and you spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks with glee. 

"Nothing like that, but what a powerhouse. You should have seen her, mowing them down with a minigun."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nate, I've seen you in Power Armor before. Unstoppable force and all that."

Ever humble, Nate's cheeks turned rosier, and he glanced down at his drink. You watched his Adam's apple bob, the shy smile that graced his features.

To put him out of his misery, you turned to the group at large, "So, does this mean you've returned our beloved mayor back, or are you heading out again?"

Hancock's attention snapped up from MacReady so he could grin at you, "What, you missed me doll?"

"Well, you do sign my paychecks," You smiled back at him, then remembered, "Oh, yeah, speaking of, I have to go over to Diamond City tomorrow to get more of Bobrov's best, maybe I can steal Nate to help me ferry it all back."

He hummed, "What d'ya say, brother? 100 caps to keep my favorite employee safe?"

From behind the bar, Charlie gave his best impression of a grunt, "I resent that, mayor!"

"'M sorry, Charlie, you just don't have her charm."

"Or her tits," Magnolia chimed in, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she smirked at you.

You flushed, eyes flitting around, finally landing on Hancock and MacReady's empty glasses, "Refills, boys?"

"Thought you'd clocked out," MacReady said, even as he handed over his glass. "Well, I'm the club's ambassador even after hours, gotta keep the reputation up."

"You best not be giving free drinks to every sorry brother that walks in here," Hancock called after you as you stepped behind the bar.

"Mm, no," You sing-songed back, "Only my favorites."

The night passed easily. You stayed by Nate’s sidelistening to him tell tales of the people he'd been meeting, the farm he recruited for the minutemen last week. He didn't delve too far into this last mission, always the good soldier who followed orders. You spent about twenty minutes trying to guess his secret Railroad code name.

"Mmmm, buttercup."

"Not even close."

"Sugar bomb?"

The look of offense he gave you was so scathing it had you spitting out half your beer over the table, doubled over in laughter as he complained.

"It relates to my prowess as an agent, not some pre-war pet name!"

"Fine, fine, uhhhh. Striker? Shadow? Tank?"

"Honestly, these are terrible. Never open a baby naming business."

"Uhm, excuse you," You said, taking a sip of beer to try and reduce the heat in your cheeks, "I would make excellent raider names. Chainsaw, evil-eye, uhhhhh," You cast your eyes around, searching for inspiration, "Ricky."

"Ricky?" MacReady asked, eyebrows knit in confusion, "What's wrong with Ricky?"

"Dunno," You shrugged, "Doesn't he just sound like an asshole?" You put on an air, repeated 'Ricky' in an ominous voice, which got MacReady and Nate to crack up again.

Magnolia vanished up to the surface after a bit of flirting with Hancock, insisting on her beauty sleep. As was your usual, you whistled after her, calling lewd, joking comments as she walked up the steps. As was her usual, she gave you a scowl and the middle finger.

"Ehhh, I'll get her to crack one of these days," You murmured into your beer, that tipsy, never ending giddy smile stuck on your lips. You caught Hancock's eye where he sat, now alone on the couch, spread eagle with his gangly limbs. When he spotted you, he gave you a grin, cigarette in his teeth.

Suddenly you desperately wanted a smoke. You patted your own pockets, found that you'd left them at home. You cursed the you from the morning for whatever logic had made that choice, suddenly desperate for nicotine.

Your head, resting against the back of the couch, lolled to look over at Nate. Who, of course, didn't and had never smoked. Goody-two-shoes.

So, you clambered to your feet, ignoring the ache that made itself apparent, and collapsed over besides Hancock.

"Does the good mayor have some cigarettes to share?" You asked, hand on his knee, leaning in close to be heard over a playful argument MacReady and Nate had started.

Hancock's smile got wider somehow, those deep dark eyes crinkling at the corner, giving the appearance of crow's feet.

"For you? Always." He dug around in the deep pocket's of that crazy coat, pulling out a cigarette case. Instead of handing you one, though, he plucked the one from his mouth and stuck it into yours.

Brain slowed by a long shift and plenty of alcohol, it took a moment for the action to catch up with, fingers rising slowly to pluck at the cigarette. You blinked at him, but he seemed unphased, pulling out another cigarette from his case and lighting it.

You leant back in the couch as your brain caught up on his move, staring blankly at a gesturing Nate, MacReady equally engrossed, somehow having missed the interaction that now had your brain reeling. Hancock's arm was stretched out behind you, tantalizingly close, fingers almost tickling the hairs at the back of you neck. You felt the chill of goosebumps, shook off the urge to shiver.

You puffed at the cigarette instead, slowly sinking back in the couch, reverting back to the sort of talk you were used to with the mayor, "How'd you like the trip? Nice to get out of the city?"

Hancock took it in stride, as he did everything, "Oh, yeah. Makes you forget what's out there, staying too long in these walls."

You hummed your assent. You stuck to Goodneighbor because you wanted to stay alive. The furthest you'd ventured in the last year was scoping out that brewery for the Rexford. But Hancock was a ghoul, and even so was more careless with safety than anyone else you knew. Getting out of the city, with only yourself and the stars as company... it was a romantic idea.

"So, what, we're gonna become the Railroad's home base now?" You teased,

"Not exactly," Hancock replied, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, "But Nate knows his shit, and he trusts them. They're doing good, dontcha think?"

You considered this, rolling it around in your liquor soaked brain, "I guess it depends on whether you think the synths are just robots or... y'know, slaves being put through just as much pain as we are."

Hancock nodded, eyes trained on you, expression curious. For all his flirting, Hancock was easily one of the more respectable men you'd met, always willing to listen, even if he was usually a bit too out of his mind to interpret it. He was whip-smart, too, when he was sober enough to put a thought together.

"I suppose it depends on if you believe in the soul. Do you, Mayor Hancock?" Some deep-seated, long ago buried urge reared his head. You remembered being a kid, sitting in a diner with high-school friends, batting your eyelashes at a crush of yours, a coy smile on your face, trying for a sultry voice and missing it by a mile. But now you were about two hundred years older, and had a few years of experience under your back.

So when you looked at Hancock through lidded eyes, purposely hollowed your cheek as you sucked on your cigarette, the one that had been in his mouth before yours, you could appreciate his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way the hand behind your head seemed to move just a bit closer, the minute shift of his hips as his body turned further towards you.

"I think I'm a bit too sober for those kinds of questions," He snickered. Being a Ghoul made determining age difficult, but sometimes you were sure Hancock was young, younger than you even, the way he carried himself, the carelessness of a teenager.

You smiled back, soft, put your cigarette out in an ashtray on the table, picking up your glass instead.

Hancock said your name, sultry, and that hand finally brushed your shoulder, a gentle, teasing touch.

You answered with a smile, a tilted, " John," followed by a sip from your drink, one you concentrated all your effort into drinking as normally as you could. If you let your tongue slide over your lips to catch the lingering taste, well, no one had to know.

"You know," You said, voice hushed as if you were revealing a great secret, "I feel like I don't know you well enough. You haven't been around enough since you hired me."

"I knew I left the bar in good hands," As if to prove his point, his fingers teased over your bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Maybe, I should- ah- give you a tour of the Old State House sometime."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, accompanied by a lecherous wink, but you felt your face flush anyway, ridiculously charmed by his brazenness.

Charlie ended up kicking the four of you out, insisting on sweeping before the sun came up. On the way up the stairs, conspicuously a few steps behind Nate and MacReady, the two of you got a bit too handsy, after you'd spent the last couple of minutes petting the velvet of his coat, hypnotized by the luxurious softness of the ancient costume, as Hancock rattled off history facts about Boston, some of which you'd half remembered from history class.

"Found the old fucker's diary in a closet on the second floor," He'd said, as your fingers traced down his arms, across his chest, barely disguised fascination. You wanted to steal his hat, tuck it onto your hair, flick it the way Hancock often did.

"That old bastard was– was kinkier than you could ever imagine," His voice stuttered as your fingers traced near his navel, studying the stitching on the waistcoats he wore.

"Oh yeah?" You snickered, loose enough with drinks to lose your impulse control chasing after whatever felt good in the moment. Mostly that had been cigarettes, but now it was the idea of kissing him, of feeling that mouth on you, anywhere.

"The mayor of Goodneighbor," You breathed, smoothing out his collar, "Keeping himself busy with five hundred year old porn."

Hancock laughed with you.

Outside, the two of you stumbled apart, leaning against the brick wall to share a cigarette, Nate and MacReady somehow still talking, even if Nate was shooting you curious glances and MacReady smirked every time your eyes passed over him.

Eventually, though, when a too loud sentence awoke a grumbling drifted who threatened to hurl a bottle at Nate, it was time to call it a night.

Nate clapped Hancock on the shoulder and kissed your cheek, which got him a punch on the arm, a bit harder than you meant to with the alcohol in your system. He took it like a champ, of course, calling out, "Have fun!" As he rounded the corner towards the Rexford.

MacReady vanished with a tip of his cap, leaving you with smoke in your mouth and the morning sun in your eyes.

"You want to take that tour now, doll?" The brush of a teasing hand over your lower back.

You thought about your dusty apartment, of waking up in a few hours to repeat the same shift for the millionth time. A cold bed, empty.

"Yeah," You breathed, hand catching on the fluttering sash around Hancock's waist, setting a firm pace and tugging him along with you like a dog on his leash. His hands found your hips before you even made it to the door, pinning you against the old wood to kiss you, deep and warm and wet. Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, till you stood hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest.

Somehow, one of you got the door open, falling through the door, walking each other in an embrace towards the staircase. The kiss deepened, Hancock licked into your mouth as you bumped into the banister, struggled to keep your balance.You let him lead, pushing you backwards up the stairs, hands always gentle, ready to catch you if you tripped.

It was a drunken fumble, your shirt rucked up, trying to get all his stupid buttons unbuttoned as you staggered to the stairs, his lips suddenly attached to your neck.

His hands moved to your exposed waist as you reached the second floor, greedy hands moving over the expanse of skin. You huffed against his mouth, finding it unfair as you struggled to even get under his ridiculous fucking shirt, finally managing to sneak a hand under it, nails gently scratching against rough skin. You weren't exactly versed in Ghoul anatomy, but you'd heard enough complaining from drifters at the bar about the lack of feeling in their skin to know you'd have to push a little deeper, press a little harder. Sure enough, as Hancock lead you stumbling towards his bedroom, you pushed your hand up to his chest, pressing down into the meat of one of his shoulders, you received a deep groan against your mouth.

Then suddenly you were in the Mayor's bedroom. Clean enough, by the wasteland standards. Strewn with chems, as you'd anticipated, but the bed looked as clean as you could be.

Hancock had ended up behind you, hands sneaking around to your ass, your collar pushed to the side so he could kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder. It felt... nice. Soft. Softer than you'd anticipated from him. It sent an ache through you, not to your core, though electricity tingled, desperate for attention you hadn't provided it with in years. The ache was in your heart, extending out to your lungs, stealing your breath the way his kisses had, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

You spun around in his arms to capture his lips again, nipping at his bottom lips, hands moving to his waist, sneaking down into his waistband. The two of you danced around the room, lips locked, hands moving as clothes were unbuttoned, tossed to the side, shoes pulled off.

Then you were naked, falling onto a surprisingly plush mattress, as Hancock dropped his coat onto the back of his desk chair, pants unbuttoned and half falling off his skinny hips. He left the hat on, even as he stripped everything else off, and it made you huff a quiet, airy giggle. He grinned back at you, always happy to be happy, as he crawled on top of you, bracketing you between his legs.

His dick was the same as the rest of him, scarred and pocked, but you found you didn't mind in the slightest as your hands wandered downwards, teasingly gentle touches running over him, drawing out airy breaths and groans.

You were quick to guide him into you, pulling him down for a kiss when he entered you, sending shocks of burning pain through you, uncomfortable but manageable. Still, he noticed, unfocused eyes blinking down at you, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," You breathed, even through the tension of your muscles, "Just– uh– been a while. Gimme a moment."

He seemed unsure for a moment, looking as if he wanted to pull out, but you forced a calm through your muscles, slowly feeling him inch his way further inside, until the two of you were hip to hip. You breathed through the sting, shutting your eyes and guiding his face to your neck, happy when he got the hint and nipped at your skin. Your breath got shaky when he found a perfect spit by the junction of your neck and your shoulder, feeling his teeth sink into the flesh, soothed quickly with his tongue, with his spit-slick lips.

"Okay," You breathed eventually, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other clutching at the muscle on his back, "You can move."

"Are you–"

"Hancock," You said, voice firm. In a more sober state, his caution would touch you, but you were desperate to feel the drag of him, to feel his hips working. "I'm a big girl, it's okay. You can move."

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pulled his hips back. With conscious effort to keep your muscles calm, your side of the kiss was a bit half hearted, but you gasped into his mouth as he pushed back in, the stretch not painful but, "So fucking perfect," You breathed, "Just like that."

Hancock was amazingly receptive, somehow cataloging every moan and twitch, and he had you pushed into the mattress within minutes, gasping and shaking beneath him. His hips drove into you at a perfect pace, his mouth moving to your tits, gentle bites at the soft skin, pulling your nipples into his mouth to flick at them with his tongue. Your whispered words of direction quickly dissolving into moans and gasps of his name.

Almost the exact second the thought of your clit popped into your head, his fingers were there, moving tight circles, pressure just the right side of too hard. You arched into him, a moan so loud it would have made you self conscious if you weren't too focused on driving him deeper, getting him closer, getting as much of his skin on you as you could.

Your orgasm approached with mounting tension in your muscled, strangled cries of more, harder, "Please, John."

You came with a strangled cry, every muscle in your body tensing and then going completely limp, gasps of air as your peak faded, replaced by a pleasant buzzing sensations. John's pace slowed as you shook, hands leaving your clit to grab at your hips, pull you towards him as he chased his own release. You were happy to let him, your hands exploring him leisurely, gripping at his biceps, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to guide him into another kiss.

You could tell when he got close, the way his hips jerked, thrusts growing rushed and sloppy, desperate, the way his breath quickened, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken even further. At the last moment, he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock, haphazard pace the same as he fucked into his fist, a few more pumps and he came over your stomach. You tensed under the surprising heat of it, but relished the soft groan that escaped his mouth, head tilted back, mouth open,

He half collapsed on top of you, breathing against your mouth, only his arms holding him from falling into you. With every inhale, his expanding chest brushed against your breasts, every touch sending electric shots through you.

He collapsed beside you, still panting, one arm curling around your chest, just under your tits, pulling you into his side. "Just– give me a second, I'll get you something to clean up."

"Mmm," You breathed, relishing the heat of him, positive he was warmer than a normal person, the way it radiated off him, heating your skin at the contact points, "Don't worry about it. Deal with it in the morning." Your words were slurring, eyelids heavy.

"Mmm," Hancock agreed, tucking his face into your shoulder. He held you tight, like little kids held onto teddy bears. It was... nice. Unfamiliar to you, but, as you buried your head into the soft pillow, you supposed it was something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

You woke with a start, unfamiliar footsteps thudding above your head. It took a moment to reorient yourself, to recognize the walls you were blinking at, the hand tucked around your waist, the soft snores in your ear. Your head thudded, your mouth dry as a desert, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey. 

"Shit," You whispered, slowly extracting yourself from Hancock's warm arms, getting to your feet. Stark naked. Your pants were slung over a chair, one sock still in the pant leg, the other tossed onto a desk, surrounded by several tins of mentats and empty jet canisters.

"Fuck," You breathed, hopping around trying to get your socks on. One of your boots was on its side, halfway under the bed. Your shirt was hanging on the fucking doorknob and you tugged it on, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to it from last night’s shift.

You swept the room, but couldn't for the life of you find your underwear. The thought of leaving them somewhere was mortifying, but when Hancock shifted in the bed, you decided not to risk staying. You pulled your boots on, leaving them unlaced as you crept over the ancient floorboards. Seeing as Hancock was managing to sleep through the ruckus of the drifters on the top floor, you doubted the creak of the house would wake him, but you were still extra cautious as you cracked the bedroom doors open, just enough for you to slip through and rush down the staircase, pointedly not looking at any of the Neighborhood Watch.

Out in the semi-fresh morning air, you took a deep breath, mumbling another curse to yourself as you began a quick jog home, trying to avoid any knowing glances as you rounded a corner and shouldered the door to your apartment building open.

Shower, underwear, find Nate, get him to ask Hancock for the caps while you cowered in the background with sunglasses and a baseball cap over a dark hoodie. Fuck.

The shower was cold, obviously, and you counted your blessings for having running water at all, even if it was a bit too irradiated for comfort. You did your best to scrub fast, hands brushing through sweaty, greasy hair, soaping the necessary areas. You very pointedly did not linger on the dried, flaking cum on your stomach, exorcizing it with a washcloth and curses.

You were busy drying your hair with your dirty shirt, because whenever the water lingered too long it left an uncomfortable sheen over your hair and smelled a bit like a bog. A knock sounded at the door, sending ice through your veins, a response equivalent to the roar of a Deathclaw or the clicking of a Mirelurk.

For a moment, you contemplated crawling onto the rusty fire-escape outside your living room window and walking into downtown Boston to let some Super Mutants eat you.

Instead, though, you stepped over to the door, moments quiet as you contemplated what the fuck you were going to say. Last night was a mistake. You're my boss. I haven't had sex in two years and I'm sorry for leading you on, can I please have my panties back?

Another knock startled you out of your thoughts, fast and panicked, followed by the call of your name from a voice that definitely did not belong to Hancock.

You opened the door to a panting Nate, already back in his suit and armor, gun tossed over his shoulder.

"Nate?"

"Hey! Have fun last night?"

You flushed, even though his expression was nothing but kind; curious and happy for you, like a good friend should be.

"Uh. What's with the get up?" You deflected, which Nate took in stride.

"Distress call from the Minutemen, they asked me to head out west to Graygarden."

"The... farm run by robots?"

"Oh, that's what it is?"

"Wh- Never mind. What are you doing there?"

"Something about the water supply and Super Mutants. I'm leaving in a few minutes"

"Okay, that's fine, I'll drag someone else with me to Diamond City, no stress."

"No, I want you to come with me."

You blinked, hand tensing on the door frame, "Nate I'm not a fighter."

"Yes you are," He said, looking so genuinely confused it made your heart seize a bit, "We fought together. At Anchorage. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't–" You swallowed. 

After returning home, witnessing massacre after massacre, you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't get involved in that kind of shit. Even after the world ended, you'd managed to keep that promise. At night, alone in your cold bed, you could still hear the hissing of sentry bots, the creaking of power armor, the whistling of bullets. "I don't do that anymore, Nate."

Nate pulled one of his more serious faces, a rare sight for a man with seemingly endless drive and relentless optimism, even after losing more than you could imagine.

"Look. I understand what you're feeling–" You took a breath to interrupt him, because his blind patriotism had driven him forward when you'd lagged behind, weighed down by the blood on your hands. Nate pushed forward, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do. And nothing helped me heal those wounds like helping people."

"Helping robots." Your voice was flat.

"Who provide food for over a dozen settlements. You'd be doing good."

You bit your lip, casting your eyes over your apartment to avoid the earnest look in Nate's eyes. Sure, you were... content in your life. Goodneighbor was as safe as any settlement could be, you had steady income, some sort of purpose. But you remembered the day Nate had walked into the Third Rail with Nick Valentine on his heels, bleary eyed, vault suit still pristine. The way your heart had sung, the way an aching loneliness you'd felt since coming off the ice had faded.

Was this what the rest of your life would be? Slinging drinks, small talk with coworkers and bar patrons, waiting for the next time Nate would walk in through the doors like some yearning wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

Besides, you weren't going to be able from Hancock in his own fucking town, not for long.

You shut your eyes, feeling the phantom weight of a gun in your hands.

"Fuck. Fine."

The smile on Nate's face was like a kid's at Christmas.

"Great! I'll meet you at the front entrance in..." He glanced down at his pip-boy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Okay."

And he was off, leaving you standing in your doorway, blinking at nothing wondering what the fuck you'd agreed to.

Under your bed there were some loose floorboards you'd been using to store the important things. Your spare caps, your vault suit and pip-boy, your 10mm pistol and your combat shotgun. The former was familiar to you, used centuries ago in a war no one understood anymore. You'd grabbed it on your stumbling way out of the vault, and it was a good thing to or you would have gotten gored by some very territorial mole rats before even making it to a settlement. The shotgun had been stolen, in your trek to downtown Boston, taken off a raider you'd knocked out with a lead pipe. He'd clearly made some adjustments to it, with a hair trigger, less recoil than expected and a scope you'd never needed to use. You'd been meaning to sell it since you'd gotten in, but it had ended up in the floorboards where you'd simply hoped it would stay unless you were strapped for cash.

A knapsack was quickly filled with everything you needed, a change of clothes, a portable water purifier, all the food that would go to waste if you didn't take it with you. You tucked some spare caps into a hidden inside pocket, wrapping them in cloth to keep them from rattling. Your spare 10mm ammo, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a flashlight.

The pistol was strapped into a thigh holster, a gun belt held your shotgun rounds. The shotgun went around your shoulder. They felt heavier than you remembered them being, their weight an oppressive reminder with every step you took out of your apartment. You'd need to let Charlie know you wouldn't be in for a while, and you'd need to stop by KL-E-0's for some spare parts. Easy enough, it was just the matter of avoiding certain tricorn-hat wearing mayors.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the street. You cut a more imposing figure with your armor, with the glint of weapons. People moved out of your way as you jogged towards the Third Rail, sliding in through the door like a mouse darting into its burrow.

You rattled like a tin can chime as you walked down the steps to the bar, announcing your approach before you could be seen, a cat with a bell. You were skittish, pausing at the last step to peek into the lounge, trying to spot a red coat, a familiar smile. Coast was clear.

"That the new uniform, then?" Charlie's voice nearly sent you flying, a squeak leaving you as the Mr. Handy suddenly appeared in view. The three eyes didn't exactly convey emotion well, but you could hear the dry amusement in his tone, maybe a hint of judgement.

"No, I uh–" You shook yourself, loosening the cotton in your brain, "Nate asked me to accompany him on a mission. Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Seven days and I'll file a missing person's report." Dry, dry, dry.

"Right," You breathed, gripping the banister like a life line, "Right. I appreciate the uh– The thought, Charlie. I'll see you around." Saliva filled your mouth, and you had a second to panic about throwing up on the floor as your stomach rolled, before the feeling faded.

Charlie didn't dignify you with a response, going right back to... whatever it was he did when the bar was closed, so you turned around, rattling right back up the stairs. First vacation in two years.

Again, you kept your head down as you walked through the alley towards Kill or Be Killed, pointedly avoiding letting your gaze slip to the Old State House, like the building itself would summon him. Something burned in your chest, not quite shame, but the next thing to it. In another life, you would've considered chewing on a baby aspirin, kept the landline in view, ready to dial 911, if you were having a heart attack. Now, though, you shrugged it off, grabbing your canteen and taking a greedy drink, washing away the cigarette taste that still lingered in your mouth.

KL-E-0 was in her usual place, piercing red eye landing on you.

"Well, don't you look dressed to kill."

You'd wondered, sometimes, if she had been especially programmed to sound so sultry, or if it was just her natural charm.

"Heading out for a while," You dug your bag of caps out of your pocket, placing it on the table as your eyes roamed over the wares available, "Think you could spare some grenades and shotgun shells?"

"Let's get you outfitted, killer."

The word left a sour taste in your mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes. You made it through the trade quickly, enough ammo to last you several encounters, enough grenades to get you through a couple rough spots. You left with your pockets lighter, your bandolier, pack and shoulders weighed down.

"Have fun, baby."

"Yeah, thanks, Kleo."

Nate was standing by the entrance, a respectable distance from the Neighborhood Watch, a focused frown on his face as he fiddled with his Pip-boy. He looked up when you approached, frown turning to a bright smile.

"So," you said, shouldering your gun, "Ready to head off?"

"Not quite, we're still waiting on the rest of the party. You know how he is, always fashionably late."

You didn't manage to get out your confused "Who?" Before a familiar hand was clapping Nate on the shoulder, saying, "So! Ready to get this show on the road?"

Fuck.

Notes: This is so insanely self indulgent it’s crazy, but I do hope you enjoyed at least a little <3

[kaywinchester]

Princess in Distress

Pairings: Dean & Sam x child!reader

Word Count: 2,938

anon request: Hi lovely, I hope that your doing okay?

I know that this is a bit odd of a request and if your not into it, I won't feel bad for you to just be like no absolutely not.

So I'm really big on the fics where the readers like really young (around 4 or 5) and Sam and Dean rescue her on a hunt from where her parents died. And it's lots of tears and sadness and fluff and theirs lots of cute little nicknames like babygirl and princess and she goes to live with them because she has no where else to go. And of course she has to take a liking to one of the boys, either Dean or Sam, whichever one you want.

I know that's really weird, but I just like to read those because I think they're cute. And again, no pressure and if you don't like it or simply just don't want to write it, no worries.

And if you have any fic recs like that, if you wouldn't mind recommending that would be great.

A/N: Hey y'all I am back with another fic!!! I'm excited I am sitting down to write in this moment, I missed writing spn stories. I still come on here to check on things and read other writers stories. I hope y'all enjoy!

~

The Winchesters had gotten a lead on a demon case a few towns over in their home state of Kansas. Some of Crowley's demons were going around, taking the forms of innocent citizens to go undercover. The boys were able to track down a few so far, but unfortunately, none of them had made it.

The demons had beaten up the bodies of the original individuals so much that they were already dead by the time they had exorcised the demons from them.

Y/N's parents were among those individuals.

5 year old Y/N was living a normal, everyday life. She was close to starting kindergarten. Until everything took a turn.

Her parents Alan and Marisa Wesler, got possessed one night. The next morning, Y/N was under the care of two demons, wearing her parents like costumes. She did not notice at first, it eventually got to a point where it was clear, something was wrong. Y/N started asking questions, to which the demons would grow impatient as time went on, and ditched the act.

Y/N did not understand, it looked like her mother and father, but they were not acting like them at all. She wanted to trust them, but something about their demeanor did not sit right with her. She thought about calling the police, but didn't know what she'd say. She thought about running away, but didn't know where she'd go. Instead, Y/N made a plan to go to her neighbors house. The Merrick's, who were good friends with her parents. Little did she know, the demons had sensed her plan.

Y/N waited until it was 11:00 at night, when her parents would usually go to bed. It was hard for her to keep her eyes open this late at night, but she was determined to get help. She tiptoed down the stairs out of her bedroom, avoiding every creak she could. She approached the front door and looked behind her to make sure no one had hear anything. The coast was clear.

Turning the lock of the front door ever so slightly, and quietly opening the door a crack.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetie?"

Y/N whipped her head around to see her mother standing over her. Surprised, since she heard no one coming.

~

Sam and Dean had gotten word of where the next demons were headed, a town outside of Kansas City. They just hoped they would get there in time, this time around. The boys had tracked them down to a suburbs neighborhood.

They had been driving all day, it was now late at night. Dean drove through the neighborhood, Sam sitting in the passenger seat, looking for anything unusual. Sam wasn't able to locate an address, but they had tracked the location to this subdivision.

Sam rolled down the window, hoping he and his brother did not look as suspicious. It was almost midnight, so most of the inhabitants should be asleep.

As they drove down a street called Magnolia Ln, Sam looked at each house, and soon found one where the front door was wide open.

"Dean, stop."

"What? Why, what do you see?" Dean slowly braked, putting the car in park in the middle of the street.

"Look." Sam pointed out. Dean met his gaze at the open front door of the house.

"Doesn't that seem kind of odd?" Sam suggested.

The two looked over the house, when all of the lights went out, all at once. The brothers looked at each other and opened their doors in unison. Rushing to get their defense supplies and approached the house with caution.

~

The demon that had Y/N's mother snatched her up, the minute she found her trying to escape the house, and dragged her across the floor.

Y/N screamed. "Mommy! What are you doing, let go of me!"

"Not a chance in hell! Listen here, you are going to do exactly as I say." The female demon said. Y/N's father then entered the room in a rush.

"They've found us!" He whispered urgently.

"Who?"

"The Winchester's"

"You little terror! You led them right to us!" She slapped Y/N across the face and threw her across the room. She landed on the ground, tears welling in her eyes. She had no idea what was going on, or what her mother was talking about.

The demons smoked out of their meat, black smoke filling the air and escaping through the vents in the home. Y/N looked up in terror, then watched her parents both fall to the ground, lifeless.

Waiting a few moments for any sign, there was nothing. It was still and quiet. The little girl arose slowly, walking lightly over to her mother who laid still on the floor.

"Mommy?" Y/N called out, nudging the woman, but getting no response. "Daddy?" she tried her father, but nothing.

Sniffling, she backed away, almost frozen. Until she heard footsteps coming from outside the house. Y/N panicked, not knowing if there was something else coming after her, and ran to the nearest closet down the hall.

Sam and Dean entered the house, clicking their flashlights on so they could start looking around. Dean walked into the living room to find two bodies, a man and a woman. He sighed out of frustration, they didn't make it in time.

"Sam." He called out.

Sam's footsteps got louder, coming closer to Dean as he looked over his shoulder at the scene. His face dropping in regret. "Dean-"

"Let me just make sure, you go search the rest of the house."

Sam nodded and wandered off to check the rest of the house for any other family members. Upstairs, he found the couples bedroom, and a child's bedroom, with no sign of a child.

"Hey! I found a kids room, but I didn't find any kids." Sam announced as he came down the stairs.

"Do you think they killed their kid?"

"I'm not sure, no sign of anything." Sam sighed.

Meanwhile, Y/N hid in the corner of the hall closet, concealing herself behind as many coats as possible and tried to silence her cries.

"I feel like we're at a dead end here, there's no way we're gonna be able to keep up with these demons, they're too fast." Dean exclaimed, frustrated they had made no progress in the last week.

"I know, but we might have to skip their next stop, where ever that is so we can catch up to them eventually." Sam suggested.

"Or, we go find Crowley instead and get that son of a bitch to-"

"Wait." Sam interrupted.

"Sam, I'm getting tired of this, sometimes you gotta go straight to the source."

"No seriously, shhh. Listen." Sam whispered. They both stayed still and quiet. Sam's eyes widened, looking at Dean when he heard distant whimpers. They both walked quietly towards the noise, checking around the rest of the first floor until they found a closet that hadn't been checked.

Y/N heard the footsteps and the knob of the closet turned, and quickly quieted her sobs, scrunching up her small form closer into the corner. She saw a flashlight shine into the closet.

"Hello?" Sam whispered.

He started moving coats and other items, digging around in the closet. He pointed into the corner, revealing a little girl looking up at him with wide glossy eyes.

"Hey, are you okay sweetie?" Sam asked lightly. The little girl looked terrified, starting to cry. Sam gave Dean a glance, in which he responded with a look that screamed 'I don't know what to do'

"Alright, it's okay, c'mere." Sam huffed, reaching out for the little girl who couldn't back away anymore. She squirmed uncomfortably in his grip as he lifted her into his arms. "I'm not gonna hurt you." Sam reassured.

Dean stared with sad eyes at the child, who looked over at her dead parents in tears. Sam placed a protective hand over her head as he walked out of the house. Dean following behind.

"Okay, I'm just gonna have you sit in the car for a moment. I'll be right back." Sam opened the door to the backseat, letting the little girl out of his arms. It was getting chilly, Sam removed his coat and draped it over her small frame, to use as a blanket. Y/N accepted it shakily, moving to the far end of the backseat.

Sam closed the door as lightly as he could, trying not to frighten the girl. "Dean, what the hell are we gonna do? She's clearly terrified, and probably just saw her parents die."

"I know, poor kid." He whispered. Dean opened the back door and peeked his head into the backseat. "Hey kid, do you uh, have anywhere we could take you?" Dean hesitated.

The girl remained silent, trying to think, but didn't know of anywhere else to go. She shook her head no. "Nothing? No family, friends, grandparents?" Dean asked, getting no response.

"Well, it's really late, she's probably exhausted. Let's just take her with for the night. I don't know what else to do, can't really take her to the police and explain all that." Dean motioned to the house.

"Sure, I guess." Sam trailed off, looking over at the car. Sam and Dean had never had responsibility of a child like this, under these circumstances.

Dean rounded the car, getting in the front seat and looking back at Sam who stood there in disbelief.

"C'mon, we'll figure it out in the morning!" Dean called out.

Sam got in the car, looking back at the little girl who looked right back at him with bewilderment. He gave her a small smile as they pulled off the street and out of the neighborhood. Leaving life as she knew it, behind.

~

Y/N's eyes slowly opened, staring at the ceiling of a room she did not recognize. Slowly, she sat up in an unfamiliar bed, looking around the small room. Her gaze stopped at two men, who were sitting at a table. One was typing on a laptop, the other slumped over the table, sleeping with a beer still in his hand.

Sam looked up, nudging a passed out Dean. "Hey, Dean, wake up. She's awake."

Sam had been up all night trying to find information on her family and what they could possibly do.

"Hi, morning sweetheart. Um, do you uh, remember anything from last night?" Sam asked lightly.

The little girl thought to herself, remembering the events of the previous night. Her parents acting scary, black smoke, then they were gone just like that. She nodded frantically.

Sam's face was apologetic for the girl. Dean sat still at the table, letting his little brother handle this, as he was still trying to fully wake up. "Could you tell us your name?"

"Y/N"

"Y/N... that's a very pretty name. Well, I'm Sam, and this is Dean. We want to help you, if that's okay with you."

Y/N slowly nodded yes. "Where's my mom?"

The brothers looked at each other with a look that Y/N couldn't decipher. There was a long pause, neither of them knowing what to say. "Is she passed away? My daddy too?" She asked, tears welling in her eyes.

"Um, Y/N, I don't know how to tell you this... but, yeah." Dean unwillingly chimed in. "Why." she started to cry. "Why are they gone?"

"It's ah, a little hard to explain." Dean said.

Sam cautiously went over to the bed she sat in, awkwardly sitting down on the edge. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was really scary. Mom and dad were really mean for a while. I was gonna get help, but they didn't like that. And then there was black smoke everywhere. I think it hurt them." Y/N said in between sniffles.

"I think you're right" Sam said. Y/N looked up at him. "See, my brother and I are trying to figure out what the black smoke is doing. We help people and try to stop bad things from happening."

"Oh... can you help my mom and dad?" she innocently asked.

"What's important, is that we help you." Dean stood up. "Do you have a last name?" Dean asked, hoping they could track down some family for Y/N to stay with.

"Uh, Wexler, is how I think you say it." she said quietly.

"Wexler? With an X?" Sam asked as he walked back over to his laptop.

"No, there is no X. It's like Weshler." she tried.

"Wesh?"

"No, weschler." Y/N struggled to pronounce the S.

"Wesler?"

"Yeah, Wesssler."

Sam started typing, searching anywhere, anything.

"So, uh. Are you hungry?" Dean asked, since he was ready to eat. Y/N nodded, her expression lightening up a little bit. "Okay, how bout we go get some waffles. Or are pancakes more your thing?"

"Waffles."

"With syrup and whipped cream?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright, let's go!" Dean looked over at Sam. "Want anything?"

"Uh, sure I'll take a-"

"Didn't think so." Dean cut off. Y/N giggled, as she followed Dean in her pink polka dotted pajamas.

~

Y/N spent the morning with Dean, getting breakfast at the diner a few blocks away from the motel they were staying at. He wasn't used to making conversation with a kid, let alone a kid Y/N's age.

"Hey, how old are you anyway, babygirl?" Dean asked on the walk back to the motel room.

"I'm five." Y/N held up her hand, showing 5 fingers.

Dean smiled and shook his head a little. "Well, you're the bravest little five year old I've ever met."

"I am?" Y/N said excitedly.

"Absolutely."

Dean unlocked the door and held it open as Y/N walked in, she held a coffee cup in her hands as she walked over to the table where Sam hadn't moved from.

"We got this for you." She smiled as she slid the cup over towards him.

"Wow, thank you very much, princess!" Sam exclaimed, looking up from his laptop.

Y/N spent the rest of the day in front of the TV, watching anything on the available channels that was appropriate. Y/N was a little bored after a while, but in a way, she understood that the brothers didn't have any kids toys laying around. Sam checked the time, it was nine pm.

"Okay, I think we should get to bed." Sam announced as he clicked off the television. Y/N yawned and scooted over to the bed she slept in the night before. Sam lifted the covers as she climbed in and laid down. "Let me know if you need anything, we'll both be over here." Sam tucked the girl in as best he could.

"Okay, thank you Sam." Y/N gave her best smile, getting comfy and rolling over to her side.

~

A few hours later, Sam let out a huff and pushed his laptop away. He looked over at Y/N who was for sure asleep by this time.

"Dean, I couldn't find anyone that's around in her immediate family. Her parents were both only children, both sets of grandparents have passed. No cousins or anyone I could find, it's weird... It doesn't seem like they had a lot of family left."

Dean stared off into space for a moment. "I guess, social services? Isn't that kind of the next step."

"Dean, you know how difficult the system can be. I know she isn't ours or anything, but I just don't know if I could put her through that." Sam leaned over into his hands.

"What do we do?"

~

The two men tried to be as quiet as possible, wanting to let the girl sleep in as long as she wanted to. When Y/N woke up, she looked over and sat up with a smile when she saw a specific basket on the table.

"Is that for me?" She asked with a hopeful tone. Looking over the basket of goodies. Sam suggested they get her some fun things to have. So, Dean went out once the nearest store opened and got an assortment of coloring books, toys, stuffed animals, games, and books for Y/N.

"I- uh, we didn't know what you liked, so we got a bunch of different stuff." Dean smiled. Y/N looked over all of the various fun toys, reaching for a stuffed elephant. She held it in her arms and snuggled it's softness.

"Why did you guys get so much stuff. This is crazy, I never had a present like this."

"Because a princess deserves to have some fun." Sam smiled.

"And... there's something we want to talk to you about." Dean followed.

It was not their first choice, but had ultimately decided to keep Y/N with them until further notice. Though it was a big decision that they had talked over, pretty much the whole night, there wasn't anything they could do at the moment.

The boys sat down and tried their best to explain it to the little girl. If she didn't know of anyone to stay with, and if they couldn't find any other arrangements....

"How would you feel about staying with us for a little while?" Sam asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Y/N stood there in thought, not saying anything.

"If you don't like that idea, we totally understand, and we can find something else that will work."

"No, um. I'm good with that." Y/N gave a little smile, squeezing her elephant.

[actual-changeling]

Every night, Crowley sleeps curled up in a bed dusty from years of disuse, slipping under the sheets and trying to preserve the touch of Aziraphale's scent in the air.

Every night, Crowley dreams.

It is always the same dream, scene by scene, word by word, and yet it never feels familiar or fails to pull him deeper into the depths of his mind.

When he opens his eyes to the shimmering reality of his subconscious, he is watching the sky break open, a thunderstorm of rain hailing down on London. The interior of the bookshop is comfortably warm, his sprawl across the armchair intentionally effortless, and the noise of darkening pavement and wet tyre tracks almost drowns out the light ding of the door opening.

The world narrows down to the glowing outline of his angel, dressed in white with eyes the blue of blooming magnolias, and Crowley is frozen no matter how desperately he tries to move.

Every time Aziraphale walks towards him, reaches for him, and it is then, with one of his palms pressed to his cheek and the other gripping his arm with a white-knuckled tremor, that Crowley is ripped from his stupor.

"You came back," he says, his voice echoing and his vision growing blurry.

"Of course I did," Aziraphale responds every single time. "I love you."

The kiss tastes like saltwater and rain, an ocean breeze tinged with bergamot, a cloud of dust picked up by a gust of wind in spring, inhaled with a smile and sunshine on his face. It tastes exactly like Aziraphale is supposed to taste; his mouth is soft, his body is moulding to the shape of Crowley's.

"I missed you," Crowley whispers with unmoving lips. "Don't leave me again."

When he tries to open his eyes, he can't, and the warmth of Aziraphale's body flows apart, dissipating into the darkness, dragging him out of the deep and towards the surface, towards dawn, quickly enough for his ears to pop and a scream to stay stuck in his throat. Every night, the dream ends the same way.

Oh, Crowley.

He wakes, gasping around shallow breaths, his heart beating fast enough to make him dizzy. Even with the sheets clenched in his fists and his body shooting upright, Aziraphale's words sound as clear as they did when he first spoke them into existence.

Nothing lasts forever.

Every morning, Crowley swears to himself to stop sleeping, to never close his eyes again, to leave the bookshop, and to run as far away as he can until he finally finds a place untouched by the angel.

Every night, he ascends the stairs, unlocks the bedroom door, and slips back beneath unmade sheets, chasing the taste of their kiss.

Pain, Crowley knows, is not what makes a nightmare, nor is it terror, fear, or heartbreak. It simply tells him that he had something, someone, worth losing, and even though the shape of his loss is the only thing he has left, it's better than not feeling him at all.

Nothing lasts forever, Aziraphale leaves him every single night, and they will never get the chance to try and outrun time.

[ellssbellss]

day two

prompt: firsts/comfort

@allaboutnalu - @thenaluarchive

-> word count: 3.85k, rated T for langauge

-> summary: Lucy really shouldn't be as worried as she is. Natsu can take care of himself. But she can't help it when her mind turns to the worst as she is stumbling through the forest, separated from her team. She can't help but wonder if he's alive.

.oOo.

alive

Lucy hated the outdoors. 

Okay, well, no, she didn’t. Not really. Lucy liked fresh air, the way Magnolia smelled like actual magnolias in the spring, the buds of her city’s namesake in early bloom. She liked the festivals her guild held out in the open fields, bingo and rainbow sakura trees with her friends as they sat around piles of fresh cooked foods, her favorites stacked in front of her like jenga pieces. Lucy even appreciated the hikes to her missions, even if they were forced to walk due to Natsu’s incredible motion sickness. It gave her time to clear her head, think through her plan of action when they arrived to wherever they were going, and to actually hear her inner voice for a change. 

And, of course, Lucy loved the stars. They were always glittering and majestic above her as she laid down to rest, her team beside her as the magic firelight never truly dimmed. The constellations reflected in her eyes, the connecting stars reminding her of her loyal friends who had, and forever will, fight by her side. 

But, as the celestial mage fought for breath after breath, sweat turning her blonde, manicured hair into a mustard splat on her forehead, she could say she hated it.

She hated the heat that burned into the wound on her shoulder and above her knees, and because she had three gashes and two hands, she had to choose which ones to cradle as she pushed her way through the trees. The key-holder despised the way the sun beat down on her, smiting her skin with its rays as she trudged through endless forest, the leaves seeming never ending and particularly revengeful as they smacked her when she passed. 

She hated the absence of her team, not knowing where they were after the explosion of the enemy’s base sent them flying in every direction. Natsu had done his best to hold onto her wrist as the blast came through, but the force was too great, and their exhaustion from their battles had already taken its toll. So his grip broke, and the ball of fire that was the core of their enemy’s power finally blasted out of its confinements, wedging distance between them. 

With Team Natsu scattered through every edge of the forest, Lucy had no idea where to start. 

She smacked, rolled, fell, and finally landed on ranges of mountains and dirt paths, coughing up soil and leaves while picking branches out of her hair. She thanked the wonderful, beautiful magic that swirled through her veins from her own power, making her more durable to the violences of a Fairy Tail mage’s lifestyle. And Wendy’s protection support magic didn’t hurt either. 

She had stood up in the clearing gravity decided to drop her into, and then fell immediately back onto her knees. Her hands smacked the ground as she cried, whined, cursed, whatever she wanted to do, really, until her body had released every large, frustrated emotion she had. 

Eventually, she would make a plan to go back to the town square of the city that hired them, an unspoken base for her team that had been settled long ago if they ever got separated like this, but not now. Right now, with the pain shooting through her body and the worry for her friends in her heart, she needed this. 

Then, finally taking her last shuddering breath, she stood back up, summoned Pyxis with what little magic she had so that she knew which way was east, and set on her way. 

First, Horologium had come through the gate via his own volition, sensing that Lucy’s magic power was already drained from her fights and her pain, and offered to carry her. She had nearly cried again, quickly hopping into the clock and relaxing her joints. Or her limbs. Or her eyes. Basically everything that was too sore to think about. 

But when she woke up about two hours later, dropping onto the ground with a hard smack!, she had to come to terms that she needed to walk on her own. Horologium had stayed as long as he was able, and she was grateful. But, fuck, did this suck. 

She was hurt, sweaty, grimy, and in desperate need of a bath when she got back home. 

More than ever, though, she was worried. 

Which was stupid, Lucy knew. Her team was a group of strong, almost seemingly unreal warriors who have fought greater foes than an explosion of some low-level mages. So strong that she would admire them from the cover of their shadows, not always quite knowing where she fit in. 

But they were still alone, like she was. 

They could be severely wounded. Erza could have landed on her leg wrong and broke it to pieces, or Wendy could’ve fallen onto something sharp. 

Or maybe they were scared? Gray put up a tough facade, but she knew him. He would put up an icy front, and he would fight through it, but his heart would be rapidly beating out of his chest as he turned every corner. 

And Natsu. Her heart didn’t want to think about Natsu. 

The look on his face when her hand had slipped from his nearly wrecked her. He called her name, the sound twisting with the way she called his, and it echoed across the chasms of the forest. Her name was cracked on his lips as he took the blunt of the explosion, pulling her out of the way and behind him the best he could. But there hadn’t been time. 

And now, he was lost somewhere to her. 

“Someone remind me to kick him when I find him.” She mumbled to herself, gritting her teeth as she lugged herself up an incline. For putting her health before his own, again. 

For making her worry about him, again. 

She really shouldn’t be. The pink-haired man bragged about being raised by Igneel in the woods. Everything that they needed to survive, they forged and hunted for, but only needed each other to be truly satisfied. Natsu was brought up in the most unlikely circumstances, and, somewhere along the way, that spirit of chaos and uncertainty bled into his bones like wildfire, shaping his DNA into a constant state of anarchy. 

It also embedded a natural survival instinct into him, one that has never steered him wrong before. The forest was his home, and deep down, Lucy knew it still was. He could never truly be hurt, or broken, or even dead. No, not in the place that raised him. 

Lucy raised her palm and wiped away the tears that fell down her cheeks. 

Damn it, he was fine! He’s Natsu, her Natsu! He’s Salamander, one of Fairy Tail’s strongest wizards, son of Igneel. Natsu was E.N.D, the brother of a dark wizard, destroyer of evil. 

Natsu is the man who brought her to Fairy Tail, her teammate, her partner. He…he sneaks into her bed, and eats her food. He protects her to a fault, but never lets her do that same for him. He just smiles that crooked grin of his, calls her ‘Luce’ and always looks on the bright side to everything. He brings her warmth whenever she has none, and he makes sure it stays, no matter how hard it might be. 

And she needed that. More and more each day, she came to rely on it, on him and who he was until she couldn’t imagine her life any other way. She didn’t want to. The celestial mage would do everything she could not to lose her dragonslayer because she needed him.

She needed to see him, to hold him, to kick him until he apologized for driving her absolutely crazy with worry. However she could have Natsu, she knew she would need him until her last breath. 

Through tears, she spots the arch to the townsquare, the circular walls around the marketplace acting like gates to heaven as they towered over the endless forest. Breathing a sigh of relief, she forced herself to push. No matter how tired she was after the hours of walking, how much her exhausted heart sputtered in her chest, Lucy dragged her ass under that arch and leaned against the cool stone with her good shoulder. 

Her eyes slid over every detail of the spherical square, the walls lined with apartment buildings and bakeries, restaurants and shops. Then, concentrically, it melted into carts or wagons, then into one fountain in the middle. 

Hastily, she looked for bursts of red, blue, black and pink, her anxiety spiking when she saw none. She checked every entrance into the square, an arch posted at each of the four corners of the world. But, from where she rested, she couldn’t see a single sign of her friends, of her family, and it made her want to scream until her throat gave out. 

Limping, she began to ask the citizens. A pretty blonde girl, dragging her feet as she clutched her arms and knees, speaking through tears as she waves them down. “Excuse me! Please, have you seen a scary lady with red hair? Like blood?” 

The mother tucked her daughter behind her back. 

“No, no, sorry.” The celestial mage did her best to smile, but by this family’s reaction, she probably had something in her teeth. “Have you seen a young girl, then? Blue hair? We were out in the woods, and we were fighting, and she got away from me.”

The woman took an offended breath, squeezing her daughter's arm. Lucy’s eyes widened.

“No! No, not like that! I’m just looking for my friends!” The key-holder pleaded, trying again as she gestured an inch above her head. “What about a grumpy guy this tall, hm? He uses ice magic, wears a necklace, and…uh, oh! He was probably stripping! He has a bad habit, especially when he’s stressed, so he was probably just–

“Listen, lady, if you don’t back away from me, I’m going to call the police–”

Lucy just shook her head. “It’s not what it sounds like, I swear. Just please, have you seen–”

“Get away from us.” The mother hisses and promptly turns around, giving Lucy a concerned look as she practically sprints away. 

“No!” Lucy calls out to her, hobbling forward. “Have you seen a pink haired dragon guy who breathes fire?” The mother didn’t respond, only walking faster. “Oh! He has a talking cat!”

And, the lady was gone. 

Groaning, Lucy dug the heels of her hands into the sockets of her eyes. She had to find them before she actually went crazy. Swallowing, she tried to control the panic in her chest, the way it slammed into her sternum with each stuttering breath. 

God, it wasn’t working. She inhaled again, shaky and wet as she wiped her cheek on the back of her hand and looked up to the sky. The sun blurred into the sky as she noted that nothing would really calm her down. Not until she found them, not until she found–

“Lucy!”

Gasping, that voice struck chords in her heartstrings, the volume of it making her jump as she turned around. 

Through the rippling water of the fountain, Lucy saw Natsu sniffing the air, gaze intense and focused as he gripped the side of the west arch with so much force, the stone was cracking. Happy was resting on his head, a hand over his eyes as he looked far and wide, his wings hanging by his side weakly. 

Lucy met eyes with the cat first, and she had never been more Happy to see that stupid feline. His eyes nearly lit up, and he jumped up and down on Natsu’s head, pointing and waving at his blonde friend. 

“Natsu! She’s right there! It’s Lucy!” 

Natsu’s eyes immediately snapped to hers, onyx meeting brown through the bubbling current of the fountain, and he slumped, his grip easing off the stone arch. 

“Natsu!” She called, her voice cracking with fatigue. “Happy!” 

She didn’t know who started it, but they were running. Her feet made the same trip as the sun, starting in the east only to finish in the west as she called out their names, ignoring the strange looks they were getting or the pain that had tormented her on her journey back to them. Everything else just blurred around her, becoming background noise to her want, her need to have him again. 

Happy made it to her first, his weak wings barely lifting him into the air as he stopped her at the fountain, his flight path taking a crash landing into her chest. She curled her arms around him tight, holding the cat close enough that his fur tickled under her chin. He shook against her, and she scratched that space behind his ear that calmed him down, feeling his crocodile tears on her skin. 

“Lushee!” Happy squealed against her collarbone, and she released him so that he could breathe, his wings barely lifting him in the air. “We were so worried!”

“You were?” She panted, swallowing her emotion. She hadn’t even wondered if they were thinking about her. Lucy had only focused on Natsu’s well-being. 

“‘Course we were.” Husk and smoke filled the space around her as Natsu seized her shoulders, dark eyes turning to emerald in the sun as he stared at her. “Luce, what happened? You okay?”

He was in front of her. Really in front of her. His hands, calloused and scarred, gripped her sweat-slicked skin with a fervor, and his gaze truly lingered on her scrapes and bruises that were visible on her person. 

Natsu’s pink hair was really catching sunlight so perfectly, that it made the strands seem more blush than salmon, and his guild mark on his shoulder was actually rippling over his skin as he asked her again, shaking her slightly to get her to focus back in. 

Her partner was here, in front of her. And he was hurt. 

“Lucy,” The fire wizard repeated sharply. “Are you–”

“Am I okay?” She gasped, finally seeing the marks and scratches that littered his skin, bruises starting to form on his biceps and over his knuckles. She broke from his grip on her shoulder, holding his palm in her own, tracing the damage with her fingertip. 

“Look at you! Your hands, Natsu.” She whined, turning his palms in her grip. “They must be fractured at least.” Experimentally, she pressed down on one, watching his face carefully. “Does it hurt when I do this? Or when I pull it this way?”

“Oi! Mavis, don’t pull it like that, Luce! The hell are you thinking?” He says, ripping his hands from her grasp. “It’s fine, just a sprain. What about–”

“And your chest! What happened to you?” The celestial wizard exclaimed, running her hands over a large slice across his pectorals. It wasn’t as deep as some other wounds she had seen, but it was definitely worrisome, and the dried blood around it only made her anxiety spike. “Did you land on something? Was it one of the wizards you fought?”

“No, no, I hit a tree when I fell, and the branch cut me.” He pushed away her prodding hands, gripping her wrists in a pleading gesture. “You have scrapes all over you, I need to know–”

“Your face, Natsu.” Natsu’s voice was nice, but it was drowning over the beat of her heart when she saw his busted lip and the scratches on his cheek, dirt freckling over the line of his jaw. Her hand went to touch his bottom lip, mindlessly pulling the skin there with her thumb so see the depth. “Did you land on your face? Are you okay? Does your head hurt? When Wendy gets here, we need to make sure–”

“Lucy!” Her pale hand on his lip was seized with a firm grasp, and she was forced to follow its path as he placed her hand on his cheek, the sunkissed skin under her touch flaming and soiled. 

Natsu’s other hand brought her gaze to his, his touch gentle but firm as he guided her to his gaze. “Shut up for one second, you’re talkin’ too much and I’m tryna ask you a goddamn question.”

Lucy felt him squeeze the hand that was against his face, like a silent apology for interrupting her with harsh language. But his voice was ragged, and his stare was enough to effectively shut her up. 

“I’m fine. I may not look it, but nothin’ is too deep or too painful enough to where I can’t fight through it. I have a cut across my chest, my shoulder blade is shot, and I’m sure there are a million other things I’m missin’ that I just haven’t found yet.”

His hand let her go, and now both his palms framed her face, bringing her closer. “What about you?” Natsu asked slowly, fiercely emphasizing each syllable. “I smell blood on ya’ Luce, and you look like you just crawled through hell. I need you to tell me if you’re okay, but you keep interrupting me every five damn seconds.”

The dragonslayer's wounded chest was panting, his clothes ripped and torn just like her’s were, she was sure. But she was speechless. She just stared into his eyes, the desperation swirling in them making her lose all sense of where she was, what she was doing. 

It had never occurred to her that all the time she spent worrying about him, he was worried for her as well. 

Natsu shook her again. “C’mon, Luce, you gotta work with me! Where does it hu–”

“I’m fine!” Snapping out of her trance, she smiles wetly, and Natsu looks like she’s grown two heads. “I’m-I’m banged up, but I’m okay.”

“What’re you smilin’ for?” He asks, and the hands on her head turn her skull on her neck, clearly searching for some kind of brain injury. “Happy, I think she hit her head too hard.”

“Stop it, Natsu!” She shoves him back slightly, but it still laughing, her cheeks hurting from her grin, and probably a sunburn. “I’m okay, I’m alive!”

Those eyes zero in on her. 

She puts his hand over her heart. “I’m alive, and so are you. Even though we got separated, we both made it back here in one piece.” 

“You’re alive.” Natsu repeats, swallowing, the hand on her chest tightening. 

She holds it there. “You are, too.”

Natsu looks at her for a long moment before his busted up face, bleeding and splintered, breaks out into the brightest smile she’s ever seen. Lucy kicked herself for being so scared that she’d never see it again. 

“We’re alive!” He cheered, shouting into the townsquare, jumping around as a tired, battered Happy sat on the fountain, raising his own arms weakly in support. 

Natsu pumped his fists, chanting and drawing attention to their spot as he spun, and Lucy bathed in his happiness. “We’re alive, and Lucy’s alive, and nothing will ever tear us down!” 

Natsu comes back to her, and brings her into his celebration. Despite both of their injuries, he scoops her up in the tightest hug imaginable, his defined arms wrapping around her waist and twirling her in the air. She was startled at first as her sore feet left the ground, gripping onto his shoulders to balance herself. 

But his hold was assuring, and he just couldn’t stop smiling about how he was here with her, and she relaxed. Instead, Lucy threw her head back and called out to the townspeople who were surely staring at them already. 

“You hear that?” Her tired voice carried over the cobblestones, laughing into the open sky. “We’re alive!”

She looked down to see that he was already looking at her, his chin on her chest as he kept her in the air. 

His crooked, wide, real smile washed over her in fiery waves, and his arms felt so assuring as they folded themselves around her waist. She knew he would never drop her, never let her fall, never leave her without a fight. 

And, Mavis, she couldn’t help what she did next. Nothing could’ve stopped her from cupping her hands over his cheekbones again, her thumbs supporting the line of his jaw, and pulling his lips to hers. 

She had to lean down a great deal, keep his chin tilted towards hers, but she got there. Slotting her lips over his full ones under such a rush of adrenaline, she forgot about his busted lip. The taste of iron flooded into her mouth, but she ignored it over the sparks that shot down her spine as she kissed him, her fingers moving to thread through his hair and bring him closer. 

His arms around her tightened in what she could only assume to be shock. She silenced his cheers enough to hear the bubbling of the fountain next to them, and felt his sharp intake of breath. But her adrenaline was too high to stop, to go back to a life without his lips on hers. So as long as he wasn’t pushing her away, she would selfishly kiss him until he did. 

And he wasn’t. Instead, she felt herself being slowly lowered to the ground, their lips still connected as their bodies dragged against each other, clothes rumpling between them. One of her toes touched the ground as she was delicately placed back onto her feet, erasing the feeling of weightlessness she’d been feeling. 

Apparently, her courage left with it. 

Lucy pulled back, her brown eyes wide over blushing cheeks as she loosened her grip on his locks, immediately looking for her partner's reaction while screaming on the inside. 

His eyes had closed at some point, and they were still shut when she backed away a little, as much as she could with his arms still wrapped around her. But then they opened, and she swallowed at his dilated pupils, eyes dazed as he looked down at her. 

“What…” Natsu spoke first, hushed breath scraping over gravel, and she tensed under his hold. “What was that?”

Swallowing, she wanted to retreat, wanted to actually go back into that forest and hide in those vengeful leaves. “A, uh, a kiss.”

Her first kiss, and probably his too. Their first kiss. 

The corners of his lips, the same pair that had fit so perfectly against hers, quirked up. “I know that, weirdo.” He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “But what was it for?”

“I…I don’t know.” Lucy sputtered, her hands moving down to the base of his throat. “It just…felt right, I guess.” 

Her heart was beating too loudly, and she knew he heard it as she looked at him with uncertainty. 

But then one of his hands that had an iron lock on her waist trailed up her side, holding her face in his palm. 

“Okay.” He said, simply, before pulling her back in and kissing her with more confidence, giving her ample time to embroider her fingers back through his hair. 

Her body arched into him, and they kissed at their meeting point, gingerly avoiding the injuries and tender bruises they had suffered to get back to each other. 

But she was alive. And, at this moment, she had never felt more like it. 

thank you for reading! see you tomorrow!

day one | day three

[chadfallout76podcast]

"Deah Shroud!: A Nick Valentine Mystery" EXPLAINED and AMA

It never occurred to me to do this last year, but a lot of people have asked me questions about our Fallout 4 play in the last year in the Discord, so I wanted to open an AMA but also explain "Death Shroud!" and some of the broader themes involved in it.

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

Part 1: Pre-production

Before I get into the story, I wanted to explain how this production even came about. Over the years after working together on some official community projects with Wes Johnson through Bethesda, we became good friends. I took a couple of his acting classes and he talked about the Fallout For Hope charity initiative I started and asked for help in organizing the gaming community for his Alzheimer's Association fundraiser. The idea was to host a month-long digital event of discussion panels, game shows, improv and a play with as many different voices of video games, film and TV as we could round up. In our second year of his VoiceAPalooza fundraiser, I wanted to do an original old time radio show and see if could bring back as many of the cast that we could from Fallout 4. It was Wes who first suggested an adventure with his Silver Shroud character (that he voiced in Fallout 4's radio plays) teaming up with Nick Valentine (voiced by the amazing Stephen Russell). Valentine is, for me, one of the best written, unique companions in Fallout lore.

So, I reached out to Stephen Russell who had joined us before for charity work and he was all in on bringing Nick Valentine back to life! After that things moved fast with Bethesda's Pete Hines and Emil Pagliarulo joining us to have some fun for a good cause. We tried to get EVERY companion from Fallout 4 that we could, but schedule wrangling is tough, and some people are just impossible to track down or find. Matt Mercer would've loved to have joined us as Macready, but unfortunately scheduling didn't work, so the best we could manage would be a holotape (the only reason our snarky gun running merc had to take the big sleep in the story).

After having everyone plugged in to reprise characters, it was time to put fingers to keys and find the story...

Part 2: The Deep Lore

The origin of this story started with a thought: how would the NPC's and characters we love perceive modification of their universe by us? We, as players aren't the true creators of this universe or these characters (Bethesda is). If anything, we the players are the equivalent of "lesser gods", reshaping it in new ways, unexpected and subjective ways, and sometimes even chaotic ways (I'm looking at you avalanche of adult mods with realistic jiggle physics and Thomas the Tank Engine Vertibird).

It started with a mental image of the small ways in which we start out modding games, or even the first mods we (using the "Engine of Creation) actually create. I had a mental image of Magnolia doing her thing, singing away sultry in a crowded and smoky third rail when she looks one way, back the next and sees new curtains. A subtle thing, something a little startling, but in a universe where recreational drug use is met with a YEEE YEEEE WHEEEE...a change you simply dismiss as being overtired or a little too juiced.

I'm a sucker for old time radio. I grew up listening to classic radio horrors like The Whistler, Suspense, and Lights Out on vinyl records and cassette tapes when I'd spend summers with my grandmother on a little island off the coast of Canada. Getting the tone, feeling and sound to stage an old-time radio show was the easiest part of this whole process...it's baked into my brain lol. The key of course is finding the right narrative voice.

Enter: Bill Lobley. If you play Fallout 76, he is the announcer for the "Tales from the West Virginia Hills" holotapes, but before that he's a prolific voice actor, maybe best known for his role as the truly vile Jeremiah Fink in Bioshock: Infinite. He has a FANTASTIC transatlantic voice for old time radio and was perfect as narrator in the script.

Part 3: What Is Going On?!?!

I had the base idea, the voices to pull it off, but what was the meaning and message of the whole thing? I always start there. From a meta experience level, the story is about dealing with subjective reality that’s being torn apart. After Fallout 4 launched in vanilla, we the players changed that world and reshaped it with mods. The small changes in perceived reality are meant for the omniscient player (us) and are not meant to be perceived by the characters themselves...and yet, what if they were? And if they were...WHY?! The answer was right in front of me: there's a difference between something born into a world and something MADE into a world.

You take someone like Magnolia or Nick, both synths, that obviously weren’t naturally born from two people. They were conceived as an idea...a human idea sure, but still they were made, not born. Without even needing to say in the script, the Trickster from the Grognak comic books who shouldn't exist yet does IS also an idea. Some MADE into a world but not born...a different world sure, but still the creation of it. Nick, Magnolia, any synth as ideas themselves would sense that the world was wrong and being changed in a way no one else would because of fundamentally who they are and what they represent.

Everything that unfolds is because Nora as a keystone event in the Commonwealth, a focal point of the causal nexus making her a unique entity in that world. A causal nexus is the link between a cause and its resulting effects and ignore the science mumbo jumbo, because here's an example of how that works:

The Sole Survivor, Nora, listened to Kent's message, chose to answer him and put on the outfit of the Silver Shroud. As a unique figure she shifted perceived reality of everyone in the Commonwealth by becoming the Silver Shroud, acting like him and making people believe that a fictional character exists.

Unfettered belief and faith in an idea = manifested reality.

Rejected belief and faith in the idea = dispels that reality.

This HAS happened before in Fallout lore in the instance of people with horrifying backstories and personal tragedies choosing to become someone else such as the Mechanist (Fallout 3 and Fallout 4) or even the Ant-Agonizer (Fallout 3). This time however it was a unique figure who did this, a figure fated and meant to reshape the Commonwealth for good, bad or ugly.

This opened a door, the door through which another figure could influence and enter a new universe provided it take the form of something already in it...a reality side-step into the form of the Mechanist. Concurrently, the moment that happened, reality counterbalanced by making the Silver Shroud who was already believed to be real BECOME real as the ying to the Mechanist/Trickster's yang.

Now at home in reality, the Trickster found himself very much alive and unbound by story but had very little power to do much at all. He needed something more, an idea and faith that already existed in the Commonwealth with the infinite universe of ideas made, but not born like himself. His goal wasn't power, it was to sow chaos, reshaping reality into a realm for any and every idea despite the consequences to reality itself.

So what did he need? The belief in the Old Gods and a focus point of belief in the idea: a staff. The universe is as adaptive as it is remarkable and where the Mechanist had its opposite: the Silver Shroud, the Trickster needed its twin: enter Sheogorath...because what better staff to tear apart and reshape reality than the Staff of Sheogorath. There is a quest added in the new Skyrim Anniversary Edition in which you can build it for yourself with a few items: Branch of the Tree of Shades, Ciirta's Eye, Fork of Horripilation. In this universe it would have to fashioned with things FROM this universe.

Two eyes were needed:

The eye of a True Believer: Kent Connolly

The eye of a True Seer: Mama Murphy

Affixed to the top of a staff of the purest heartwood from a Twice Born Tree. Living wood from Harold, born a man who eventually mutated into a living tree.

Lastly, it had to be soaked in the tears of ages end: barrels of radiated blessed waters courtesy of the Cult of Atom.

The Trickster had no magic of his own in this universe in which to act, but thankfully courtesy of some powerful allies, he was able to make contact with shadowy cults and worshippers of the old gods who gave him the name of someone truly of faith in the old magic to make all of this work: Jebediah Blackhall, who in this spin of the universe did unfortunately get his hands on the cursed book: the Krivbeknah.

Finding allies was all too easy, as the events post main quest left the Commonwealth changed. To many, the Sole Survivor and his/her companions would be hailed as heroes. To others, they would be villains, particularly in light of what Nora CHOSE to do to the Railroad to end the synth threat for good. That's a lot of blood on the hands of heroes...

As the Mechanist/Trickster, Blackall and the Lombardos began using the staff, its changes and shifts in reality rippled backwards through time, as changing one specific thing would change its entire existence. You change some curtains and the manufacturer of those curtains only every made one pattern...the world object becomes changed universally. Tapping into the Engine of Creation to make these changes, leaves anyone MADE not born aware of them as they don't fit into the design as it shifts around them. Nick, Danse, Magnolia would all feel and see it, be thrown off for a bit before settling into the changed reality state.

At the climax when everything starts falling apart and you get everyone from GlaDOS and the Joker strolling on in, the only way to end it all is to separate the Trickster from the Staff and restore the saved intended state of reality. The Silver Shroud finds himself powerless against the Trickster...only someone from this universe would be able to intercede, hard wired into the Engine of Creation itself as an existing element connected throughout its framework and history. After sending the Trickster off packing to the moon (thanks GlaDOS), but its a little too late for reality. It collapses around them, finding themselves elsewhere...the point between the mind, creation and the outcome of reality.

After the Shroud fades away, Nick has the power and choice to roll the universe, his universe back along the tapestry of choices that led him here. They all were haunted by the choices they made the first time around, something Nora couldn't live with...that ultimately led her relationship with Danse to fall apart. So Nick decides to go back further, as far back as he can go and he finds himself back in his office with Ellie waking him up.

There are consequences to what he's done, that he's not yet aware of, ones that will become clear in our next episode. The synths remember, as he remembers...Danse, Magnolia and everyone else remembers the fall of the Institute. They all find themselves at their starting point, moving towards their intended fated position to encounter the Sole Survivor. For Nick? He's starting down the path that will led him to be held prisoner and meet the Sole Survivor for the first time.

As he'll soon discover however, things don't play out the same way this time. Moreover, while he was rolling back reality to an early saved state, he made a huge mistake and completely forgot about something and someone so incredibly important...

You'll have to wait to see what that is...

[starlightingsss]

forever and always?

laxus x reader drabble AGAIN, might write more parts!

help idk why i wrote angst BUT HES SO UGHHH?? sobbing btw.

he wasn't sure why he did it - why he left her. of course, he had to leave magnolia, but her?

he remembered it like it had just been yesterday, her eyes widening as tears filled them, her mouth opening ot say something but no words coming out, how he saw her heart shatter in his fact, how she collapsed, how she cried. he remember how he sobbed for the first time in a long time the moment he exited their house, how he told himself it was for the best, how despite that he couldn't stop his tears, the unbearable pain he lived with for a year that never stopped - until tenrou, until time itself stopped.

walking back into their old house seemed to awaken everything, the ache in his heart. there was no trace of her. 8 years had passed, since he walked out on the love of his life - 8 years to her, 1 to him.

everything was in its place, exactly as he liked it. the fridge was ridded of perishables, the living room cushions were in the right order, the dining table was uncluttered, the bathroom counter was empty except for his singular toohtbrush and toothpaste, the cabinets were empty except the ones that had help his own personal hygiene products, the closet was empty, their bed was made, his belongings were untouched. the sheets smelled of his cologne, the shower was stocked with his body wash. even the shiny engagement ring in the velvet box resting deep in one of the drawers of his nightstand was still there, undistured and resting on its soft cushioning.

naybe he liked it, so many years ago, but today - at that day and at that time - he hated it. his house was nothing but his house.

he hated mess, he never complained to her about it but she knew he hated it, but god, how he would kill to see a mess. her mess, the clutter of makeup products, her clothing, her skincare, the lingering scent of her perfume, the smell of her cooking. the elements of her that made his house his home, the things that warmed his bed and comforted his heart were gone - and as was she.

he didn't blame her, he ended their relationship with 2 words, never reached out and walked out on the teary eyed girl as if it meant nothing.

she didn't know he was on the island, she probably thought he left her in radio silence for years, it was too late to try again, it was too late to love her.

he couldn't stand it, his house haunted him with memories of her, he couldn't stay there any longer.

and so, he made his way to freed's house, grabbing his coat, and walking across town, to where its always been. he knew freed would ask no questions, and jsut be happy to have him there, but still, he knew his sleep would be haunted by his memories of her, the undying hope that maybe she still missed him, that maybe they were really meant to be, that the universe was on their side. maybe the gods were rooting for him and his soulmate, the love of his life. maybe, by pure luck, he didn't screw up as bad as he thought he did, maybe she had it in him to forgive her, and maybe she was just as hopeful as him.

maybe she would forgive him, maybe - even though it might seem so silly -, maybe, she still loved him as she did all those years ago, and maybe she still trusted him, and maybe the odds were in their favor and they had a chance. just maybe. but that maybe was the only thing that let him sleep at night, that maybe was the only thing that had kept him going, that 'maybe' seemed to be the only thing that kept his heart beating.

maybe he still had a chance, to be with her, to have their kids, and to have the life that they dared to dream of.

[genork-the-fandork]

Missing

Word Count: 651 Prompt: Unison Raid/Yearning A/N: I could have continued my trend of writing these from Lucy's POV, but I really wanted to mix it up. Something about Natsu yearning just really called to me. I craved it. So here we are! @thenaluarchive @allaboutnalu

To passersby, Natsu almost looked like the spitting image of Makarov, had the old guild master ever had pink hair and boasted a height greater than three feet. He seemed to be puzzling over something, his arms crossed tightly over his chest with his legs crossed. Instead of the front counter, however, he chose to take this position up on a central table, drawing the confused gazes of the rest of the guild.

"What's wrong with him?" Gray muttered, his shirt nowhere to be seen.

"I'm not sure," Erza murmured. "Natsu, are you all right?"

There was a moment of strange silence from the Dragon Slayer. Then, his eyes shot open, and he lifted his head with a determined look on his face. "I'm gonna go find Lucy!" But before he could sprint out of the guild hall, Erza grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Oh no, you don't." Erza lifted him and plopped him down on a bench. "She and Levy are having a much-needed girls' day out. It would be best to leave them be."

Natsu pouted. Of course he knew that. Why else had he waited until now to give in to his impulse to find them? It felt like something was missing, and he was pretty sure that was something—er, someone—was Lucy. There had been times before today when they hadn't gone on a job together or hung out at the guild hall, of course, but for some reason, today was different. He just really missed Lucy.

Naturally, he wasn't going to breathe a word of this to Erza to Gray.

"I'm going on a job," he muttered, turning toward the guild hall door. He slipped out the door before they could realize he hadn't even found a job from the board.

He walked through Magnolia with his hands in his pockets, his eyes searching absentmindedly for his blonde guildmate. Natsu knew he should let Lucy and Levy have their fun—after all, they deserved to have some time together—but he couldn't help the empty yet tight feeling in his chest. It was like being away from her was making him sick, or something. Why was that? Was he hungry?

There was a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, and he whipped around, eyes widening and mouth opening to call to Lucy. But it was just some other girl, not the one he was looking for. His shoulders slumped and his head fell, a little more than bummed. Man, something was really wrong with him.

Without meaning to, his feet had taken him to Lucy's apartment, and for a moment, he considered breaking in and waiting for her. Yeah, she would yell at him, but at least he knew he'd be able to see her. When had that happened, he wondered, that he needed to see Lucy every day for it to be a good day?

Snippets of thought floated in and out his thoughts. Laughing with Lucy, getting kicked by Lucy, hugging Lucy, dragging Lucy on a job with him. For years, it had been him and Happy. The fact that Lucy had become just as much a part of him as his little buddy in so short a time was really something else. He wanted to see her today. He needed to see her.

"Natsu?"

He turned around at the sound of his name. There she was, standing a few feet away from him, a bag over her shoulder and shopping bags hanging from her other hand. Somehow, he managed to refrain from throwing his arms around her and telling her never to leave him alone for the day ever again. His heart swelled and his lips broke into one of the largest smiles that he ever smiled. The thought that she was beautiful fluttered away before he could voice it. But the feeling stayed in his bones.

"Lucy! Welcome home!"

[mackeydoodledoo]

She Wears Short Skirts, I Wear T-Shirts: Chapter 7

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: 4 Years.... You hadn't seen her since high school. You really haven't kept in touch with anyone since. You've always been forcing yourself into your music with your bandmates. At the end of another local show, a familiar face faces you again...

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, 2nd Chance Slow-Burn

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme: I2I - Magnolia Park/Disney

A/n: If anyone has heard of 'A Whole New Sound', specifically the chapter's theme - it's amazing.

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

*Y/n's POV* You rush off of the stage and head to the merch table to help F/n's girlfriend as a line of people begins to build.

It felt odd being back home...

Since graduating high school, and the tour right after the fact, your band moved to the city, and put out an EP. F/n and her girlfriend are engaged...

Life's crazy.

Popularity was steady. You go to other towns to open, and open at venues in the city...

+*+

You help her break down the merch stand as your bandmates bring the packed stuff to their cars.

"Great show," A very familiar voice makes you stop in your tracks

"Oh... It's you..." F/n sighs, rolling her eyes, "You might want to take this one..."

As if you didn't have a guess on who it could be. F/n takes the last merch bin from your hands as you stare blankly into the car via trunk.

"Y/n, I know you can hear me," Her voice says

You slowly turn around, stiff. However, lightly gasp.

It was Bridget...

Only...

It definitely didn't look like her...

But it was her.

Her pink hair? Gone.

Bright, peppy style? Watered down to less brighter clothing.

"Bridget...." You say

Awkward silence other than your condensed breathing...

"That's all you have to say to me?" She asks

You shut your friend's trunk and brush past her.

"I don't have time for this right now Bridget," You wave her off over your shoulder

"But, I do," She says, following behind you

"You can speak now while I finish upbringing these out," You say, picking up one last container

"No, I want to speak to you face to face," She says

"I can't bear to look at you right now," You sigh, putting the container in the bassist's truck bed, "Now go home. I'm sure Hook isn't pleased you're here to see me."

"Yeah... About that..." She sighs

"What?" You scoff, "Hook cheat on you or something?"

You turn when she doesn't answer right away. So you turn to look at her but the tension in your body goes away when you see her nails nearly clawing at her elbows, and her lip quivering.

"Get in," is what comes out of your mouth

I might regret this....

She walks over to your passenger seat and gets in with no other words exchanged.

"Y/n!" F/n whisper-hisses

You look over and see them throwing their arms in the air; 'what the fuck?!' written on their face. Your face contorts with; 'I might regret this..' You walk to the drivers side and get into it. You drive off from the venue, going to your go-to late-night food stop.

"Ahh, Y/n, long time no see," The manager smiles, "I'll get your usual ready."

"I have Bridget with me too," You say

"Ahh, I'll get her usual ready as well!" He adds

The sliding door closes for a moment before he opens it to take your card to cash out the order.

"You know, in the last four years, Bridget comes to this place and orders whatever she got the first time you've brought her here," He tells you, giving your card back

You sit and wait for him to bring back the food.

"Hook never approved, so I had always gone here on my own when I'm home for the weekend," Bridget confesses

"Of course he didn't," You sigh, "It's practically soul food. Really hits the spot after a long day."

+*+

After getting food, you stop in the downtown pavilion.

"How often do you come home?" You ask, "Just to eat this food?"

"Mostly every weekend..." She answers, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, "Part of me hoping to see you here...."

"Well, if you must know, I have my own place in the city now," You say

"Is that so?" She sighs, sounding sad

"Well, I'm not driving back there tonight," You add, "Need a bit of a scenic change..."

"Oh... What about your music?" She asks

"We're kinda taking a break," You answer, "We've just been doing our local shows. Had to cap off ticket sales when we hit the capacity."

"Well, lucky me then," Bridget says, "I try to get into the small, local shows... But, only been lucky this one time..."

"Oh... You still follow our socials then?..." You say

"You sound upset about that..." Bridget says

"No, I'm not upset. Just surprised about it," You clarify, "You know, after Hook, at least from what I've seen, wouldn't let you listen to anything pertaining to the band. Especially me. If it's okay to ask, what... Happened between the two of you?"

She puts her food down and sighs, trying to find where to begin...

"You really don't have to start way back when," You say, "Just when you found out or whatever..."

"Okay," She says, "Basically, I walked into his apartment, wanting to surprise him after I came back from my culinary internship.... Saw a girl sitting on the couch next to him; his arm wrapped around her any everything..."

"Ouch," You say

"Blocked him on everything," She continues, "But, saw his pathetic apologies before then."

Well, now she knows how I felt about simply seeing her with Hook after winter break...

"How long ago?" You ask

"Last month," She answers, "At least, I found out last month."

"Ouch, harder," You sigh, "You two weren't living together right?"

"No, I wanted my own place," She says

"Must have been hard for Hook," You say, "Or not. I don't know."

"Might not have been," She tries to not cry

"Where'd your pink hair go?" You ask, changing the subject

"Felt too connected to high school," She says, wiping emerging tears

"Come on, you were the most popular girl in the halls," You say

"Ended up not feeling worth it," She says

"Hmm... Is blonde your natural hair color?" You ask

She nods, "Who in their right mind would go around, saying that their natural hair color is pink?"

"No one," You chuckle, "Do you... Still do cheerleading?"

"Yeah, at Auradon University," She answers, "Not the captain but it's nice not having so much responsibility on your shoulders for a change. You should come to a game. The girls would be ecstatic to find out I know someone in a bad they love."

"Oh?" You ask, "They love my friends and I?"

"Oh, absolutely, I never hear the end of it," She says, "I wanted to say that I went to high school with two of the members, but I got scared that if I do, I'd be asked so many questions. I also hadn't seen you until tonight..."

"Hmmm..." You say, "Well, I just might make an appearance. I have to make sure it'll fit into my schedule."

"You would do that?" She asks

"Why not make them jealous?" You joke

+*+

You pull into her driveway... Taking you back down memory lane.

"Thanks for... Driving me home," She sighs into a smile

"You're welcome," You slightly smile, "I'll possibly see you around."

As you reach back home, you greet your parents, and head off to your room. As soon as you flop into bed, you see a text from F/n.

Dude, are you serious? What? You seriously drove around with Bridget?! I thought you weren't on a talking basis with her. She revealed some shit I'm not disclosing. It seemed pretty serious. Ugh I cannot believe you sometimes. My life, I'll fuck it up my way. Just.... Be careful this time. I will.

You throw on your pajamas and see a text from Bridget.

Hey... Hey, you doing okay? Yeah, I just wanted to ask if you were doing anything tomorrow. Not that I know of. Why? There's a fall market somewhere in the city that I've always wanted to go to. Care to join me? Oh the Central Fall Market. Sure. I can take you to one of my favorite places down there too. I'd like that :) See you tomorrow Yeah. Goodnight Y/n, thanks. For what? A lot of things.

You plug your phone in and adjust yourself into your bed comfortably and lay there until your eyes grew heavy.

+*+

You put on your warmest jacket.. You were kinda excited to finally go to the market, but nervous on how it will go with Bridget.

"Careful honey," Your mom says

"You know I will," You say

You drive a few doors down to her house; Bridget waiting for you on her porch. Almost immediately she runs to your car with barely any time to put the car in park.

+*+

You find decent parking and the both of you begin walking to the marketplace.

"Have you been here yet?" She asks

"Not yet," You answer, "I'm really more about the oddities things, not the cutesy market kind of thing."

You watch as she rushes to a random stand....

"Hey I'm going to look around a bit," You whisper in her ear

She turns to you and nearly gasps at how close you were to her face. Your eyes move to her lips but quickly move back up to her eyes. You clear your throat as you walk to the stand that caught your eye.

You see crotched things. You pick up a few of them and hand the vendor your money.

"Thanks Y/n," They say

"Oh, you know my name?" You ask them

"I follow your band," She mentions, "Been to a few shows here and there. Ya'll are a vibe."

"Thanks," You simply say and then walk away

You walk back over to Bridget, who was now eyeing some bar soap. You tap her shoulder and she turns to you. You hold up a paper bag and the second she looks into it, she squeals. In the midst of her excitement, she gives you a kiss on the cheek. You stand there as you watch Bridget happily moves onto the next area.

+*+

The both of you find a hot chocolate stand and you buy to chocolate for the both of you. The only open seating was a loveseat in the corner, near the window.

"Sorry," She says

"For?" You ask, trying to keep yourself composed as much as possible

"Making you uncomfortable," She says, "You're all stiff. That's not good for the cold."

She swings her arm around your shoulder and leans you back into the couch with her.

"I've kinda missed moments like these," She confesses, "Hook never wanted to do the simple things like these.... Saw them as boring and rather go to a party instead."

"Have you gone to some?" You ask

"A few... The types if parties he takes me to... Aren't for me," She says

"That sucks," You sigh, "What kind of thing... Do you like?"

"Simple strolls through the market," She gestures to what the both of you were doing, "The simpler things. You're a whole celebrity, and yet you're making the time to do these things."

"Well, like I said, my friends and I are on a break from music," You clarify, "Performing is on a 'need openers' basis."

"Still, you're the popular one now," She chuckles

"I don't care about popularity," You say, "People here know when to treat a musician like a regular person. They'll acknowledge me, ask for a photo or auto here and there. But, have yet to be stalked."

"Hope not," She says, "About the stalking part."

"Hmm..." You sigh, leaning onto her shoulder

The both of you watch as people begin filing out to the city.

"Hungry yet?" You ask

"A little, yeah," She answers, "Taking me to that place you were talking about?"

"Yep, come on, let's get food," You stand, holding your hand out to her

You watch as she slightly smiles, takes your hand and stands up after you.

+*+

You park your car in the lot and get out, waiting for Bridget to follow.

"Hey Y/n!" The hostess greets you as soon as you walk in the door, "Just you again?"

"Actually...." You say, stepping to the side, revealing Bridget

"Oh! You've finally brought a date!" She grabs a few menus, "Follow me."

"Date?" Bridget whispers, following behind you

"Oh, it's nothing," You try to play it off

"We're one of the only places open late, so she always comes here," The hostess continues talking, "She mentioned someone she had a crush on, hoping to bring her here one day."

"Okay thanks!" You raise your voice

She snickers and she walks away.

"What was that about?" She asks, sitting across from you

"Since moving here, I've needed to find a new post-concert food stop over here," You explain, "This is the place."

"Cheating on your hometown post-concert food place are we?" She teases you

"Hey, doesn't count if I'm not there all the time," You argue

"Fair point," She sighs

The both of you order food.

"What did the hostess mean by 'you finally brought a date'?" She asks

"Like she said, I mentioned wanting to bring a specific person here," You say

"Is that... Person me?" She asks

"Maybe, maybe not," You take a sip of your drink

*Bridget's POV* She chuckles as she leans back into the chair and sips her drink. You look at her wrist; a tattoo.

"I noticed you had a sleeve," You point out, "What is it?"

"You'll see eventually," She replies

A waitress comes with some food and she continues leaning back in her chair.

"What?" You ask

"Take the first bite," She tells you, "I want to see your reaction."

You take the food off the plate and take the first bite. Your mouth waters as you take another, and another...

*Y/n's POV* "See?" You chuckle, beginning to eat, "Hits the spot after a gig down here."

"Does this place have any other locations?" Bridget asks

"Not that I know of. Hey, W/n, is there any other locations of this place?" You call your waitress over

"Probably in the next city over.... Auradon, I think," She answers

"Oh! I'll have to check out that one too," Bridget says, 'I attend Auradon University."

"Ugh, that prep college for rich snobby kids?" She scoffs

"Hey hey, Bridget, isn't a rich snobby kid," You defend her

"I'm so sorry Y/n," She raises her hands in defeat, "I didn't realize that your girlfriend... Was..."

Your eyes widen and you give her the stare of; 'go.' So she doeskin most likely going to figure out how to earn your forgiveness.

"Girlfriend?" Bridget blushes

"She's at Vill Isle University," You explain, "Auradon's biggest rival."

"I don't care about being called rich or snobby," She says, "She called me your girlfriend."

Of all things....

"Sometimes people say things under stress," You explain, "Plus, they all like me in here. I'm basically a regular."

The both of you finish dinner and begin driving back to your hometown.

"We have a show coming up next weekend in the city if you want to go," You say

"I'd love to," She replies, "But, it looked like it was sold out..."

"I can get you an all access pass," You blurt out

"You'd... Do that?" She asks

Kinda...

"Yeah," You say, "You'd have to just give them your ID to verify you're the person that's on the list. I'll get it taken care of tomorrow."

"Thank you," She says

You walk Bridget to her front door.

"Thanks for today," She says, "I honestly needed it."

"Good," You sigh

"I'm sorry," She says

"For?...." You ask, as if you didn't have a guess

"High school shit," She says

"Don't worry about it," You say, rolling your eyes, "That was awhile ago and-"

"No, I need to apologize for it," She says, "There-there had been a lot and-"

"Hey whoa slow down," You say, cupping her cheek

She stops...

"Why don't we talk about it another day then?" You suggest

She nods.

You sigh as you gently kiss her forehead. You saw the flush flooding to her cheeks. You clear your throat as you slowly retract your hand, putting it back down to your side.

*Bridget's POV* "Uhm, goodnight Bridget," She waves you off

You watch her leave your driveway and back down the road. The feel of her forehead kiss lingers.

Chapter 8

[isthlsfate]

⌞ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ⌝

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: you don’t always get second chances

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: elvis presley/austin!elvis x black!reader, angst, fast paced, fluff

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 𖥔 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

elvis stands backstage, staring at the mirror, his reflection a distorted version of the boy he used to be. the slicked-back hair, the rhinestone-studded jumpsuit—it was all a costume now.

the real him felt buried somewhere beneath the fame and the music. he adjusts his collar, his mind far away from the buzzing energy of the crowd waiting for him.

he hadn’t thought of you in years.

not until earlier that afternoon, when he caught a glimpse of someone in the crowd—a flash of brown skin, the curve of a familiar smile.

his heart lurched, memories crashing over him like waves.

the two of you had grown up together in tupelo, inseparable for most of your childhood.

long, sun-soaked summer days spent sneaking into movie theaters with a couple of nickels, sitting by the river’s edge singing dreams into the humid air, sharing impossible fantasies about what life could be.

but life has pulled you in different directions.

when he got his big break, you both promised to stay in touch. you wrote letters at first, but slowly, the letters stopped coming.

time moved on.

fame consumed him, and somewhere along the way, you slipped out of his life completely.

elvis had tried to forget you—thrown himself into the music, the movies, the women—but some memories linger, no matter how hard he tries to shake them.

you had always been the one, even when he didn't know how to admit it.

the sound of his name being called from the stage jolts him back to reality. he shakes his head, trying to clear the haze of nostalgia.

he couldn’t afford to lose focus tonight. but as he steps out into the spotlight, his eyes are drawn to the front row.

there you are.

you’re older now, of course, but it was you—those same wide eyes, that same smile, though it was softer now, more guarded.

for a moment, the world spins around him, the roar of the crowd drowned out by the pounding of his heart.

the set goes by in a blur.

he sings the songs by heart, but his mind isn’t on the music.

it was on you.

on everything you had been, and everything you never got to be.

after the show, he doesn’t wait for his entourage. elvis slips out the back door, heart racing, knowing he has to find you, knowing he might not get another chance.

you’re waiting for him in the alley, just like you used to after school when you’d run off to hide from the world.

“elvis.” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

“darlin’.” he replies, the sound of your nickname on his lips felt like both a homecoming and heartbreak all at once. “i didn’t think i’d ever see you again.”

you smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“i almost didn’t come.”

elvis doesn’t know what to say, how to bridge the years that had stretched between you, the paths you’d taken, the choices you’d made.

“i thought about you.” he says quietly, his voice rougher than he intended. “a lot.”

“so did i.” your gaze drops to the ground. “but things are different now. i’m different. and you—" you gesture to his jumpsuit, his whole image, "you’re elvis presley."

he wants to tell you that he’s still the same boy who used to sing for you under the magnolia tree, the boy who swore he’d always be there for you. but he knew that wasn’t true.

he had changed, and so had you.

“i should have reached out.” he says, his voice thick with regret. “i never should have let you go.”

for a long moment, the two of you stand in silence, the years between you feeling heavier than the humid memphis air.

elvis doesn’t know where to start. doesn’t know how to explain why he’d let so much time pass, why he hadn’t written more, called more, tried more.

he opens his mouth, ready to say more, but you shake your head softly.

“don’t, e. don’t apologize. we both made our choices. you had your career, your life. i had mine.”

he wants to tell you it’s not that simple.

that you are more than just a chapter in his past. but when he looks into your eyes, he sees the pain and distance there—the walls you had built up to protect yourself from all the hurt.

“you haven’t changed much.” you say softly, a wistful tone in your voice.

elvis laughs, though it comes out rough and hollow.

“that’s what i was thinkin’ about you.” he glances down, unsure how to say the next part. “i never meant to let you go.”

for a moment, you say nothing.

then you step closer, your eyes searching his face.

“i didn’t either.” you whisper, your voice catching on the words. “but we don’t always get second chances, do we?”

he winces at that, the truth of it sinking in.

his hands itch to reach out, to hold you, to turn back the clock to those summer nights by the river when everything was simple.

he had loved you then, even if he didn’t fully understand what that meant.

and now, here you both are—older, with miles of distance between you, but something was still there, pulling him to you.

“maybe we don’t get second chances.” elvis says after a moment, “but what if this is something different?”

you blink up at him, surprised. “different?”

“i’m not saying we can go back.” he says, stepping closer. “but maybe…maybe we can start over.”

you look down, your expression guarded, but he notices the way your breath catches.

“we’re not kids anymore, elvis. things are… complicated.”

he reaches for your hand, his ring-clad fingers softly grazing your palm.

“i know. but complicated doesn’t mean impossible.”

for the first time that night, your smile reaches your eyes.

“you still know how to say the right thing, don’t you?”

elvis smiles back, hope bubbling in his chest.

the two of you stand there, the tension between you easing into something softer, something that felt like a new beginning.

elvis could see it now—a future where you don’t have to be the people you used to be, but could be something better, together.

“i can’t promise it’ll be easy.” you say, looking up at him with a mix of uncertainty and hope.

“neither can i.” he admits. “but i can promise i’ll try with everythin’ in me.”

you squeeze his hand, your lips curving into a genuine smile this time.

as you walk off together into the warm memphis night, hand in hand, elvis can’t help but think how lucky he is to have this moment.

because maybe you don’t always get second chances.

but sometimes, you get something better.

[happilychee]

fairy tail rainy day headcanons

because it's rainy where I am

♡ a heavy rain cloud hangs over magnolia, and it feels like the sky is sobbing and howling with the wind outside. juvia worries that her guildmates will be mad at her for the rain, but they insist that it's the perfect weather to spend some time bonding in the guild hall.

♡ mira enlists juvia and wendy (not lisanna. she's a menace in the kitchen) to help her make warm drinks for everyone. there's hot chocolate, warm mugs of apple cider with cinnamon, and mulled wine. the fairy lights floating above the first floor seem to burn brighter when the dark sky obscures the sun. even though it's the morning, it feels like evening.

♡ no one is eager to go outside in the rain, so they open the sacred board game closet in the back of the guild hall. there's a variety of games, from simple ones like connect four to the complicated four-hour agriculture roleplays. levy and fried settle down for the most intense game of scrabble known to man. cana drags laxus into a series of card games with gray and loke. pantherlily, mira, erza, and wendy clear a table so they can act out an entire kingdom's history as they try to save their farms from extinction.

♡ if she ever frees herself from scrabble, levy wanders down to fairy tail's archive, where lucy is curled up with asuka, happy, and carla, reading an old storybook. they're on one of the plush couches, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a blanket. lucy feels her eyes drooping, and eventually she dozes off with the little cowboy and two exceeds in her arms. bisca and alzack are grateful for the quiet, taking the time to read their own books.

♡ of course, not everyone is happy being cooped up. erza has to break away from her game multiple times to stop natsu from going outside. she does not believe that him having fire magic will save him from getting a cold. eventually, natsu manages to slip past her, and he and lisanna splash around outside. lisanna drags juvia out, and they all end up soaking wet. erza and mira drag them back in with worried scolding.

♡ this prompts mira to start cooking a giant stew for everyone. natsu is tasked with keeping the huge pot hot with his fire while gray and mira chop vegetables and meat. the result is a hearty soup that the entire guild can enjoy. everyone leaves their board games (bisca gets lucy, asuka, happy, and carla) to settle at the guild's weathered wooden tables. the storm rages on, but inside the fairy tail guild hall, it's warm and lively as everyone shares a meal together.

[lgbtsana]

SOOBIN – LAST CHRISTMAS

— soobin txt one-shot

the realities of your boyfriend being an idol felt all too real on that day. you never expected it to come, you both were happy and he never showed any sign of being upset with your relationship.

you tearfully stared at him, listening to him tell you he wanted to break up. you noticed him stretch out his hand to wipe your tears, but you smacked his hand away. while you had noticed his hurt expression, you ignored it. you were dealing with your own emotions as well.

"did i do something wrong, bin?" your voice cracked, your eyebrows creasing together. he shook his head, "no, i did."

yet, he said nothing more, leaving you to think he cheated on you. when, in reality, his manager found out about his relationship and let the pd know. but, he didn't tell you that.

he couldn't risk a relationship scandal, it was the peak of his career. soobin even knew that, but he loved you so dearly, he couldn't let you go. but then, the pd found out.

the glistening white snow reflected the sun into the soft colors of your room. squinting, you slowly opened your sore eyes. you cried yourself to sleep, the usual person who hushed your cries from your constant nightmares wasn't there anymore, only adding to your sobbing.

stretching out your body, you sat up on your bed, letting your legs dangle off the side. you quickly rubbed your eyes before heading into the bathroom.

you sat and stared in the mirror. the under-eye bags were in plain sight, very noticeable. you haven't had a good night's rest since the breakup.

a heavy sigh left your lips, "time to get ready for the day, i guess..." as much as you didn't want to admit it, you knew you missed soobin. you made sure to steer away from any articles about his group or him.

but, of course, as you turned on your tv today, he and his group were performing. you couldn't help but sit and listen. they were good performers, even if you had to admit that.

your phone's notification sound went off and you turned as it lit up. noticing a text from soobin, you felt confused.

bin <;3: hey, can i come to your place? you: i'd appreciate if you wouldn't. bin <3: oh,, bin <3: alright, i understand.

you tossed your phone to the side of you and just cried more. it had been 2 weeks, why would he reach out now? but what made you question it more was why he wanted to come to your place?

the questions were eating away at you and it was christmas today, the season of giving.

"one chance?" you whispered to yourself hesitantly before shaking your head. "no, you can do this y/n. don't give in."

soobin stared at his phone, waiting for it to light up again with your message.

"dude, pd is gonna be pissed if he finds out your messaging her." beomgyu placed a hand on soobin's shoulder, who only let out a sigh.

"gyu, i know. i just miss her." his eyes met the floor when kai put a stuffed bear in front of his vision.

"cheer up," soobin looked at kai, who handed him the bear, "i'm sure you'll see her again soon." he gave him a thumbs up, which made soobin give him a short smile.

"maybe send her a bouquet of flowers," yeonjun decided to chime in "i heard girls love those."

"he's right, they do."

"taehyun, come up with a way to cheer him up on your own, dude." yeonjun punched his shoulder gently. "i'll pass."

"what's her favorite flower, soobin?" yeonjun turned to his fellow member and friend, who smiled while reminiscing "she loves pink magnolias."

the next day, you received pink magnolias at your door. earning them a raised eyebrow, you took out the card and read it.

dear y/n, i know you probably don't want to meet up, but i should tell you something i didn't tell you when we broke up. my pd found out about us, he forced me to break up with you. i had no other options. he didn't want a scandal to break out. what i'm trying to say is, i'm sorry y/n. kind regards, soobin

you scoffed at the card but kept the magnolias so they didn't go to waste.

you picked up your phone and sent soobin a text, showing that you wanted to move on. accepting the fact you two can't be together.

you: take this as my last text to you. you: we both need to move on. as you said, you can't risk a scandal, a dating scandal at that. i'm accepting our fate, you should as well.

with that text, you stopped looking at the texts you received from him. and slowly, they stopped coming altogether.

that was the last christmas you contacted him.

A/N: believe it or not, i did have a happy ending planned but decided to go full angst. maybe i'll release the happy ending ver? we'll see ig.

TAGS... angst, heavy angst, idol!soobin, nonidol!y/n ex!soobin, depressed!soobin, depressed!y/n, y'all miss each other so bad.

PERM TAG LIST...

@run2seob

[newtthetranswriter]

Stargazing Questions

(why are there no gifs of Bickslow this should be illegal)

Word Count: 1426

Paring: Bickslow x gn! Reader

Summary: You were supposed to spend the day with Bickslow but the rest of the Thunder Legion had other plans. Luckily the day still ends better than you expected after a nighttime stroll through the park and some stargazing.

Warnings: none really, maybe Ooc Bickslow

A/n: Hello, welcome to my first Bickslow oneshot, I’ve done some headcanons for him but I felt that he needed his own piece as well. Also this is for the weekly challenge in the X reader community that I’m in, the prompt was stargazing at night. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

   As the day dragged on with nothing really happening within the Fairy Tail guild hall. I had originally planned to spend the day with Bickslow, but Freed and Evergreen decided that they wanted to take a job and so they dragged Bickslow along with them. So now I sat at the bar occasionally talking with Mira, while wishing they would hurry up with the job. It was a simple one that in all honesty Freed could have done solo, but they’re a team so of course they all had to go.

   “You know sitting there moping isn’t going to bring him back any quicker.” Mira said, noticing the disappointed look on my face.

   I sighed, laying my head in my crossed arms on top of the bar. “I know, I just wish he could take a day off more than once every month. Plus we were planning to spend the day together and now the sun is about to set and we were only able to eat breakfast together.” I grumbled.

  She just laughed while wiping out a glass. “He is part of the Thunder Legion after all, it’s no surprise that he takes a lot of jobs. But they should be back soon, so don’t fret too much about it.” She said with her usual cheerful smile.

   I nodded, before I could say anything else, the sound of the Guild doors opening cut me off. Turning my attention to the front of the guild, I couldn't hide my anticipation as I waited for whoever it was to fully enter the guild. Much to my relief it was the team of three I had been waiting for. Jumping up from my spot, I rushed over pulling Bickslow into a hug, earning a laugh from him and chuckles from his two companions as they left us. “I missed you today.” I spoke into his chest.

   I felt him rub his hand up my back as he placed a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I missed you too. Sorry I skipped out on our plans, Freed was being a baby about going solo and made us tag along.” He explained as he pulled away slightly. Looking up at him I couldn’t help but smile, being in his arms after such a long day was always relaxing. “What do you say we go for a walk in the park to make up for me leaving earlier?” He suggested, followed by a chorus of ‘walk’ and ‘park’ from his babies that floated close by.

   Thinking for a second, I nodded as I pulled away from the hug. Grabbing his hand I pulled him out of the guild hall. “A walk in the park sounds fun, but Freed owes me lunch after taking you away like that.” I said laughing as we made our way through the streets of Magnolia.

   When finally reached the park, the sun had almost set completely painting the sky in shades of pink, red and orange with the majority being a dark blue with stars slowly starting to appear. As we walked we discussed how our day had gone. Bickslow talking about how the job had gone and how he really didn’t have to go. I told him about the numerous fights that happened in the guild hall, most of which were caused by Natsu and Gray. We also joked about what we were going to make Freed do as payback for messing up our plans for the day.

    We walked around for about an hour before we realized the sun had fully set. “We should probably head home.” Bickslow suggested as we got closer to the exit of the park.

    I was about to agree with him when an idea popped into my head. “Why don’t we watch the stars for a bit? The sky is clear so we might be able to see a few shooting stars if we’re lucky.” I suggested, pulling him towards the grass where we would be able to see the sky clearly. Picking a good spot I laid down on the grass looking up at the stars, patting the space next to me. I heard him chuckle before he laid down next to me.

   It was silent for a few minutes as we both watched the stars. “Aren’t they amazing?” I broke the silence, talking about how mesmerizing the twinkling lights are. When I didn’t get an immediate response I turned to face Bickslow to see if he had fallen asleep. But what I was met with was his beautiful red eyes looking directly at me, his helmet discarded on his other side. “What are you looking at?” I asked, trying to hide the fact that having him look at me like that sent chills down my spine.

  “Just looking at something more mesmerizing than some lights in the sky.” I had not been expecting that response. Sure we had been together for awhile and even lived together but hearing the playful and loud Bickslow say something that sweet was shocking.

  Taking a second to process what he said I focused on another fact. “Umm, okay but why’d you take your helmet off? Not that I don’t like it, I love it honestly, but you never take it off outside of the house or the guild.” I said, getting a little flustered. It was true he never took his helmet off anywhere someone he didn’t know might see his face.

   It was his turn to pause, after gathering whatever was running through his mind, he stood up. Turning to me, he reached out his hands signaling he wanted me to stand up with him. Once I was standing he looked very serious before he started speaking. “I wanted to see your face clearly when I asked you this.” He spoke clearly, and even though I understood what he was saying, I didn't understand why he was saying it. I gave him a confused look, signaling for him to continue. “While it’s true Freed and Evergreen dragged me along on the job today, it’s my fault we took so long to get back. On our way back I saw something in a shop window and I had to buy it.” Bickslow continued to explain, bordering on the line of rambling. He took a second to breath before looking me in the eyes again, as if realizing I was confused by what he was saying he sighed. “I wasn’t going to ask you this until I was able to give you a day of just the two of us but seeing so happy to see me when I got back plus how beautiful you looked while watching the stars, I don’t think I can wait.” I watched confused as he pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a simple yet gorgeous ring. “Will you marry me?” The smile on his face did nothing to cover how nervous he truly was but it was clear he meant it.

   Not missing a beat, I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him into a tight hug. “Of course, I’ll marry you.” I said burying my face in his neck.

   I felt him return the hug before he pulled away to put the ring on my finger. “I love you so much. Thank you for dealing with me and all the crazy things I’ve done in the past.” He said, placing a kiss on my hand after the ring was in place.

   “You don’t have to thank me for loving you.” I said pulling him in for a real kiss this time. After we broke apart the sudden silence around us was relaxing, that is until I noticed something missing. “Wait a second Bickslow where are your dolls?” I finally noticed that the mini totems hadn’t been echoing his words since we got to the park.

  He chuckled. “I sent them home, I figured they’d ruin the moment if I actually worked up the courage to ask you.” He explained.

  I nodded understanding why he did it. “Well I think now would be a good time to head home. Because as much as I’d love to spend the night out here with you, we are going to have a long day tomorrow.” I said, leaning down to grab his helmet before handing it back to him. “After all, once the guild sees the ring they’re all going to go crazy asking questions.” Bickslow nodded as he pulled me to his side, for us to walk home together.

(Dividers by @/cafekitsune)