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blueprint-han · 3 years

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stay tonight — bang chan.

↪ why, you must be in love, then. oh trust me, i know.

— new years’ with Chan is spent confessing known feelings to each other and getting back at him for what he did to you on your first date.

pairing: chan x (gn) reader [while this was written with a fem reader in mind, i do think this can be read with a gender neutral perspective]

genre: fluff.

⇥ warnings: nothing at all! a little bit of kissing here and there, but this is completely sfw.

word count: 2.6 K

type: drabble.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Bang Chan, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

song: this was inspired by Stay Tonight by Chungha! Highly recommend listening to it when reading this fic <3

↯ note: This is actually shit™ because I was very writers blocky with this fic and had to rewrite it many times to develop a decent plot </3 still, hope you have a lovely Christmas! 🥰 Happy reading <3 this isn’t very well edited so please excuse any errors <//3 ⇥ dawn.☀️

“You know you’re not supposed to be sitting there, right?”

You straighten up and turn around at the familiar sound that rings through your ears, content when it’s exactly who you wish to see standing there. The smile exchanged between the both of you is simple, sweet and relaxing as you get off where you’re seated on the compound of the building. Walking towards him, your hands go around his waist and he chuckles in response. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You revert back. “I was just about to call you.”

Chan quirks a brow at you, silently grabbing your hand and leading you to the two random chairs placed at a convenient angle — one where you can both bask in each other’s presence and do some stargazing at the same time.

“Why? Did you miss me that much?” His tone is very cocky at the moment, and it makes you want to kiss that stupid grin off his lips. Sadly, he knows you well enough to know that such comments only fluster you when spoken — and that’s exactly what happens — you feel yourself go warm from the inside, a dizzy expression taking over your face as you sit next to him.

Love. The first time you’d encountered the term was in first grade — yet you’re almost certain it’s nothing like what you feel when he’s around you. This kind of love is different — it’s special. It’s the kind of love that causes a fiery sensation to bubble through you when you spare as much as a glance at him, yet it’s also the kind that keeps you calm and running like the waves washing against the shore of a golden beach.

You can’t put words to explain what love means after you met Bang Chan. It’s more than just a feeling or sensation — it’s like the warmth that flows through your insides when you sip on hot chocolate during cold winters, it’s when your whole life turns into shy smiles, delicate giggles and nervous glances exchanged towards each other. That could perhaps, only outline what you felt around him.

A small tug on your lips and flutter of your eyelashes is all it takes before Chan places his warm hand over your own, lacing fingers together as his thumb runs over the soft skin of your hand. There’s no need for words right now — just soft gazes lingering on each other and the chill air that clouds itself around you, making you yearn for the warmth that you know only Chan can provide.

You take a brief moment to let your eyes quickly run over Chan’s features — his black hair falling over his temples, his eyes peering into your own, his lips slightly parted open. He hasn’t taken the face chain off, yet. He looks like he’s taking you in too, and you want this moment to freeze right here. Because the way Chan’s looking at you right now almost sweeps you off your feet.

But of course, there’s your goofy side coming out when the feeling gets to the point where all you wanna do is just lean in and close the gap between the both of you.

“Close your mouth, mister.” You give him the most obscene-looking pout ever. “I know I’m too pretty to resist.” That (very cringy statement), paired with a wink thrown with each eye causes Chan to break eye contact from you and start laughing, hysterically.

“Y/N.” You can’t even see his eyes because of the tiny™ crescents that have taken their place. “What, in the name of lord, was that?” Chan clutches his stomach, his loud giggles very prominent in the quiet surroundings around you.

“Oh, come on, it’s the end of year. There should be harmony—” The last word is in a singsong voice, spreading your arms out to enhance the dramatic tone. “— everywhere possible. You just can’t appreciate my comedy.”

Chan only coos at you, leaning in to kiss your cheek ever-so-lightly before giving you the most beaming smile you’ve ever seen. He pinches where your cheeks feel hot. “Yes my little comedic genius, you’re adorable.”

“You love it.”

You pout at him, and Chan immediately leans in, cupping your cheeks and squishing them together before kissing the pout right off your face. He pecks lightly once, twice, thrice before pulling away, eyes glittering under the stars — you could see a whole universe in his orbs, and they seemed to be dragging you in.

You’d met — no, you’d properly seen Bang Chan for the first time when you passed by him in the MNET Countdown for their Miroh comeback. You’re forgetful enough to not remember what song you were promoting at that time, but you do remember bowing down at all the members of Stray Kids multiple times as you exited the stage. It was also the time you felt that tug on your heart’s strings, all because Chan’s lips pulled into a smile when his eyes fixated on yours.

You’re again, forgetful enough to not remember anything about your surroundings, but you do remember staring off into his brown eyes, even if it were for a mere second — yet it felt like you were swept off your feet. You do also remember when Chan reached out for your shoulder, and you froze. You weren’t capable of words as Chan brushed off a piece of tinsel off your top; throwing you a beaming smile.

“T-thank y-you,” You remember saying, stuttering, rather. You could feel his radiance clouding your brain as you scrambled along your route, trying to calm yourself down of that unfelt rush of emotion you’d just felt. The loud applause and the bustling crowd, the members singing their parts of the song, the other groups making their exit — you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything except that smile. Those eyes that crinkled into the finest of crescents, that flash of his dimples that softened your heart and then that final brush of his fingers against your shoulder, enough to take your breath away.

Call you lovestruck, but Bang Chan had you in his grasp the moment he laid his eyes on you.

The second time you met Bang Chan was again, at a show, but this time. You were an MC instead of a performer. You don’t need to dwell on the lot of details again, but you can still feel that shock wave that ripped through your fingers when Chan borrowed the mic from you. Your fingers only barely touched, yet you could feel all the blood rush to your face in that very moment, biting your lip slightly as you allowed him to do the talking.

You did pray and hope that he, or anybody else for that matter, didn’t notice how red you were, because hell that was embarrassing.

“You look at him like he’s an anime character come to life.” Ah, typical friends. Using your love for anime boys to tease the way you kept blushing every time Chan even so happened to walk past you.

Of course, by the third week of this happening, you were almost certain you’d fallen head over heels for the man — that man who you’d never talked to before, if you didn’t count the awkward hellos and bows you’d shared. You didn’t understand why or when or how he managed to catch your attention so much — all you knew was that you were hurled headfirst into the vortex of love, and you were only plunging deeper and deeper in, with no way out.

But did you want a way out?

“I can feel you staring.”

Oh shit. You awkwardly straighten yourself before shifting your gaze two degrees to the side. Chan’s dorm (he’d made sure all the boys were out) was a less-than-ideal-location for a first date, but being an idol has its own repercussions, you like to believe.

“Y/N!” He exclaims, giggling at you as he shakes your arm, like he’s trying to pull you out of a trance or something. It only makes you very obviously shy of the fact that he’s caught you red-handed.

“I have something for you…” He drags, his eyes looking curiously into yours, scanning for a response. Your own widen and a smile takes over your lips — you don’t care about the gift in all honesty, just the fact that he thought of getting you something for something like a first date warmed you up.

“What could that be, hm?”

“Wait here.”

He runs into his (shared) room and you hear sounds of him rummaging through something, and he returns with a small object in his hand. You try to get a glance at it but his hand is covering it up majorly, and he cheekily smiles as he sits in front of you.

“Close your eyes.” He says in that adorable, pouty voice that can have you do almost anything for him. Sure, this is your first date, but it took you two weeks after the confession to clear up your schedules and set a timing and place for you to meet up.

“Channn, just show it already!” You counter, groaning at his secretiveness.

“Nope, you’ll have to close your eyes.”

If he wasn’t so freaking adorable, you’d have snatched that thing from his hand, owing to the amount of curiosity you had.

“Ugh, okay fine.” You squeeze your eyes shut, sighing when you feel Chan’s soft hand engulf your own before placing something cold and… is that plastic?

You open your eyes to look at the small, rectangular object in your hand.

“A cassette tape?” You raise an eyebrow — not mockingly, but rather in a questioning way. As far as you remember, cassettes weren’t something used regularly to play music.

“Mhm, we had a lot of time before our first date, you know? So I thought I’d try to make it special.”

“Awh, how are we gonna play this?”

“Behind you.”

You frown, turning behind you to look at the massive, ancient cassette-player sitting on a table.

“How did I just notice that now?” Chan shrugs.

“Let’s l-listen to it then.” A small smile graces your lips.

And of course, you were crying by the end of the tape.

You do remember the contents of the tape. It had four songs — all of which were supposedly written for you — you didn’t bother to ask, but the mere thought of him going through all that to record and immortalize them into a tape had you touched.

The thought invokes a heavy feeling of nostalgia — suddenly you wanna go back in time, one year ago on your first date, just to relive the experience. Looking at Chan has always made you want to give everything you could to the man — yes, he was handsome, he was pretty, but moreover you could never, ever get over how much of a kind hearted and empathetic man he was. He’d pulled you out of your most vulnerable state and shown you how the true world was really like — filled with love, joy and exhilaration.

“Hey.” You hear the whisper and shake yourself out of your thoughts. “It’s thirty seconds to midnight. They’re gonna release the fireworks.”

A nod, and the both of you rush to move to the edge of the compound and gaze at the night sky.

“Don’t you think they’ll be looking for us below?”

“Nah, I told Hyunjin and Jisung where I’m going, they’ll take care of it.” Like usual, he intertwines your fingers together once again, looking up at the sky and then at his watch. You only giggle at his words, nodding before leaning to rest your head against his shoulder.

“Twenty seconds.”

This was it. In twenty seconds, the year would come to an end — while all the memories you’d made with Chan, and everyone for that matter, would remain, a small part of you would miss this year and all it’s days. Yet, you could be either excited for the year that was to come, or be sad that an amazing one was going to end — and you were leaning towards the former.

“You know,” You feel a sudden burst of emotion cutting through you — almost like you’re starting to tear up.

“Yeah?”

“I’m-I’m really glad I met you.”

The bustling of the city grows louder, and you can hear the collective chats echoing throughout the space.

Chan isn’t amused, but you can tell he’s taken aback by the sudden vocalization of your thoughts, especially when you tend to keep yourself on the more silent side.

“O-Oh…”

You smile, still holding his hand when you turn to face him and he does the same, eyes filled with curiosity, a hint of confusion, but he nonetheless let’s you speak.

“I don’t know, every time I look at you, I just think about — how grateful I am to have you standing next to me like this. And I might sound a little cheesy or dramatic here, but I’m really, so happy when I’m with you — you really make me smile without doing anything, you make me feel safe and it’s just… you’re so special to me.”

Perhaps it’s just the sudden surge of emotion you feel when you look into Chan’s eyes, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from saying anything. The words just spill out and string themselves into a confession that leaves Chan breathless.

A soft sniffle leaves your lips and Chan’s eyes gloss over too, he silently brushes his thumb under your eyes to collect the tears that fall out.

The loud sound of ringing resounds throughout, signifying that there’s only ten seconds left. The chants pour in, one by one. Ten, nine, eight, seven…

Chan really doesn’t know why he’s gotten emotional over a small confession, but to him it feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Not that he had any doubt in the first place, but the reassurance you give him is more satisfactory than anything he’s ever felt. While Chan knows you’re happy being with him (and vice versa), moments like these are what make your relationship lively and exciting, joyous.

Six, five, four.

“Why, you must be in love, then, Y/N.” He feels himself say. You look up to him and your eyes meet and it feels like a world’s united together. You love him, he loves you, and tonight, that is all that matters.

Three, two…

“Oh trust me.” You say, and at that moment, you hear nothing, except for the thudding of your quickened heartbeat and Chan’s voice catching in his throat. “I know.”

One.

You barely notice the luminescent firecrackers that start bursting behind and all around you high up in the sky when Chan’s gentle grip on your cheeks tightens and he pulls you in, chest crushing against yours as his lips engulf your own in one of the warmest, softest kisses you think you’ve ever received.

Because in the end, this is where you like being the most — in his arms, feeling his presence beside you building your confidence. You think it’s destiny, it’s fate how the both of you seem to click so much and fit with each other so well — indeed, you’re in love with Bang Chan. Because with the start of the new year, you can feel yourself forgetting about everything negative, everything except the light of your life, him. Your thoughts are fuzzy but still coherent, and you want to drown yourself in everything Chan, Chan, Chan.

When you pull away and rest foreheads against each other, finally, it all seems peaceful. There’s the distant chattering from below, but you and Chan are trapped in your own world to notice that.

“Happy New Year…” It’s a tiny whisper, yet you catch it quite easily.

“Happy New year,” you say, smiling at him lovingly before pecking his lips, leaning into his chest and humming when his hands wrap around your shoulders, engulfing you in warmth. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

You smile to yourself. In your head, you know what you’re gonna do is half to revive past memories and half because you want to get back at Chan for almost making you cry on that first date with his dimpled smile and his thoughtful gift.

“I have something for you.” You playfully word, feeling that wave of nostalgia hit you when Chan raises an eyebrow.

“I thought we didn’t get each other gifts for new years.”

“Yeah, but this is special. Close your eyes.” Chan does as you say, though reluctantly, holding himself back from tangling his fingers with yours again. You snicker at how he bites his lips and stiffens his fingers, leaning to press a soft kiss into his palm before placing the gift.

Chan frowns and opens his eyes to peer into your own, fiddling with the cassette tape in his hand.

“A cassette tape?” he probably doesn’t remember in explicit detail, but you try not to laugh at how he mimics the exact same way you acted on the first date.

“Yeah, it’s something I made for you.”

“Oh,” He looks at you sweetly, making your heart swell as you nod in agreement. “I’ll listen to it when I get home, we have the cassette player there.”

You shake your head. “Mhm, nope! Lucky for you, I contacted the right people so you could listen to it.”

Chan raises both his eyebrows in amusement, chuckling to himself as he turns in the direction you point.

“Behind you.”

And just like the old times, that cassette player was still there. It had taken you a whole two trips to McDonald’s to convince Minho to help you sneak it in, but if it all worked out, everything was set.

“How did I just notice that now?” Chan seems amused at the level you’ve gone to present your gift, and a tiny bit mellow at your actions.

And this time, you were the one who had him tearing up by the end of the night.

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name, and I’ll Be There: 2.1

"If you wake up to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door...call out my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call."

"Ehe! Peek-ah-booooo," your chubby fingers separated those of your savior so that you could peek at him through the gaps. His lips tugged into a barely-noticeable smile. Your sudden coughing fit brought an end to the rare sight as he watched blood spill from the corner of your mouth.

"Do not forget what I've said." The man bit the tip of his thumb, drawing blood in the process, and closed the gap over your eyes. He touched the tip of his thumb to your lips and a warm light enveloped you.

"XIAOOO!" You gasped for air and shot up from the ground. Cold sweat clung to your clothes, and your hair was sticking up in unruly ways.

You were greeted with shocked faces, with most mouths agape and about to welcome spoonfuls of breakfast. "And here I thought you'd sleep all day again," Childe let out an awkward laugh. "How're you feeling, Sleeping Beauty? You drool like my kid brother," he pointed to a corner of his mouth.

"S-shut it," you hurriedly wiped at your mouth, and found that he was bluffing. He choked back a laugh. Your breathing finally returned to normal...had he joked around to calm you?

"Your fever must have broke last night. The color finally returned to your face." Zhongli continued to eat as if everything were normal.

"Yeah! At this rate, we might be able to leave by tomorrow!" Paimon spun around happily.

"Let me get you some food," Aether reached for a bowl and utensils. "You haven't eaten anything in a while. You must be starving."

You stayed silent, but stole a glance at Xiao. He continued to eat without looking in your direction. What was I dreaming about just now? Your gaze fell to your lap. Why did I call Xiao's name?

"Hey, are you still feeling sick?" Aether prodded you after you didn't answer him. "Maybe we should go back to--"

"I'm fine. I just had a really weird dream." You caught Xiao glancing at you from the corner of your vision.

"If you say so. Don't hesitate to tell us if something's wrong."

"Thanks." You finally took the bowl from his hands and ate in silence.

Xiao scouted the area around the path they were to take the following day. He leapt from tree to tree to identify any potential threats they may need to eradicate along the way. His mind was unusually cluttered with thoughts pertaining to things outside of his duty. Like you.

It appears as though she's beginning to regain her memories of that day.

"'If you wake up to a knife...'" You absent-mindedly touched your throat as you recalled your dream. "Why does it sound so familiar?" You ran your hands through your hair, gripping the strands as you repeated the action over and over again. It felt as though the answers were sitting on the tip of your tongue--so close yet so far away.

"You should really stop wondering off on your own. Especially after last time." Childe nodded toward your injured leg before kneeling beside you. "And even more so considering this is the same spot you got injured."

"It's fine. Xiao already cleared this area. I guess the lawachurl was just a loner."

"That won't always be the case. You need to keep your guard up at all times. You never know when an enemy could strike you down."

"You mean enemies like you?" You scooped up water from the stream before dowsing your face.

"Well, you're not wrong," he laughed. His face fell as he watched you dry your face. "What were you dreaming about this time?"

"'This time?'"

"You tend to talk in your sleep or jolt awake." He paused. "You've been calling Xiao's name a lot lately."

"So I've heard," you muttered and stood. "I don't know what to tell you. I barely remember my dreams."

"You know, lying isn't your strong suit." Childe matched your pace as you limped back to camp.

"Maybe when I know what to make of my dreams, I'll share. But I promise you won't get any useful information out of them for your precious Tsaritsa." This earned you an unreadable grin from the Harbinger.

"Is everyone ready?" Aether's gaze swept across everyone's faces and landed on you.

"Yep!" You grinned widely. "I can walk fine for the most part."

"Cool! Let us know if you need a break."

Your team set off to Huaguang Stone Forest. It wasn't too far of a journey from your current location, but your still-healing injury proved to be a bit of an issue not long after you guys left the campsite. You were already several feet behind the rest of the group, sweating profusely in the mid-morning sun. Xiao slowed down and walked alongside you.

"If you need to rest, speak up."

"I'm fine," you insisted despite being out of breath. "I can keep up."

Xiao narrowed his eyes as if he were thinking of pointing out that you were in fact losing ground. After a few minutes of watching you recklessly hobbling about the trail, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Here." He knelt at your feet with his back facing you.

He wants to give me a piggy-back ride?! You were mortified at the possibility of being teased by the group if you went through with this. Your cheeks burned a bright red.

"Don't reduce me to waiting on you. Hurry up," he ordered.

"O-okay." You didn't want to test the patience of the yaksha and did as you were told. He rose to his feet with you on his back, bright red with embarrassment. "Childe is going to criticize me for being so weak--"

"So?"

"Oh, I--" You hadn't realized you said it aloud.

"If you're that eager for strength, we can do endurance training."

"You'd do that?"

"On one condition." You picked your head up off his shoulder to look at him. "You do it for your own protection, not for approval."

"Right," you nodded, realizing how childish your statement was. "What I said....I had only meant that Childe's teasing is annoying. I want to grow strong of my own accord."

Xiao nodded without saying anything. You adjusted your grip around his shoulders before awkwardly resting your chin on him. I really hope he can't feel how hard my heart is beating....or how hot my face is. Wait, why do I even feel this way in the first place? You failed to realize that the tips of Xiao's ears were dusted pink.

Childe bit the inside of his lip after he glanced behind him to find that Xiao was carrying you. The all-too-familiar pang of jealousy yanked inside his chest.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshinimpactxiao #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao genshin impact #writing

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

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An Iron Box - Perfect Portrait

On the off-chance anyone’s still reading this series, I hope you enjoy this update.

It may be shorter, but it’s a scene between Chishiya and MC/Reader that was in my mind but I never put it into the original fic :)

You can also find it here on AO3.

If you haven’t read the original, you can find it either pinned to my Tumblr or on AO3 here.

Thanks so much for reading. It means the world <3

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

People were so predictable. Even in a world where you can’t trust anyone, they still look for someone to connect with.

It seemed that saving (name) from that awkward situation at the bar did the trick, as afterwards, she clung to Kuina’s side – and by extension, my own. However, there was a slyness in her eyes whenever she looked at me. A calculating curiosity that revealed her distrust for me.

And yet, it didn’t keep her from seeking me out.

One morning, several days later, I headed downstairs earlier than usual, hoping to enjoy the rare quiet as I ate breakfast.

While the bread from supermarkets was inedible, flour and yeast were perfectly intact, and with the Beach’s over-abundance of electricity, making bread was a favourite pastime for the former-chefs and bakers living here. And so, grabbing two slices of toast from the kitchen, I took a seat at a table in the far corner of what would have been the hotel’s restaurant.

Soon enough, people would filter down from their rooms and the usual circus would begin. But for now, it was silent. Peaceful. I lifted a piece of toast.

‘一緒に朝ご飯食をべないか.’ Do you want to eat breakfast together?

Typical.

I put the toast down. ‘You’re leaving too big a gap between words. It sounds unnatural.’

Something brushed against my hood as she hovered behind my chair. ‘Teach me to sound natural then.’

‘No.’

‘どうして.’ How come?

Perhaps she would leave soon. If I waited until she disappeared, I might actually be able to enjoy my breakfast in peace.

It’ll be cold by then.

Weighing up the options, I gave in and took a bite of my toast. ‘Because you’ll only learn by speaking it more,’ I said, swallowing. ‘And also because I don’t want to. You should practise on Kuina instead.’

She circled around the table, holding a small bowl of dried fruit in one hand. There was a screech as she pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. I turned away, looking out of the window instead, but in the corner of my eye I could see her watching me, fingers playing with the bowl of fruit. She was still wearing my hoodie.

‘Kuina doesn’t speak English as well as you do.’ She huffed. ‘And if I make a mistake, she doesn’t tell me what’s wrong. I think it’s a Japanese thing. Everyone here is so polite, and nobody wants to correct you if you have bad grammar.’ She paused. ‘But you will.’

So I’m rude enough to correct her, hm?

She wasn’t wrong. But this still wasn’t enough of a reason to make me want to waste my time teaching her a language that she would pick up eventually.

‘You do have terrible grammar,’ I said. ‘You sound like a textbook.’

When she shifted her chair closer, I instinctively leaned away. ‘I know. I probably have a foreigner’s accent too. But I need you to tell me how I can get better.’

She did have an accent, strong yet not unpleasant. And surprisingly, I didn’t mind it. I knew I had an accent whenever I spoke English, but it was only normal. As for not sounding like a cardboard character in a language textbook? Well... she was clever enough to figure it out by herself.

Picking up my second piece of toast, I began to take a bite when a set of fingers wrapped around my forearm.

And there it was again.

That warmth

It was just like in the pharmacy when her knee had touched mine. That same warmth seeped into my skin, humming under the surface. A shiver ran through my body, and I yanked my wrist away, severing all contact.

For the first time this morning, I looked at her fully, seeing the briefest flicker of astonishment in her expression before it relaxed into idle curiosity. If she was surprised by my reaction, she didn’t comment on it.

Instead, she shifted in her seat, chewing uncomfortably on her dried fruit. ‘By the way, you never told me how you learned English? Did you study abroad?’

The question took me back a few years, to those nights spent in my bedroom as a child, pouring over language textbooks. The one-sided conversations with myself, the books I had spent hours picking apart and translating until the early hours of the morning.

‘I was bored as a child, so I taught myself a language.’

Her eyes widened. ‘When you say you were a child...’

‘I was seven when I started learning.’

I was seven when I gave the housekeeper some of my pocket money and asked her to buy me an English language dictionary. And even when she asked my father if it was alright, he didn’t once turn to look.

(Name) shook her head in disbelief, and muttered under her breath, ‘that’s insane.’

By now, we were no longer alone. People were filtering in regularly, filling the tables as they chatted with friends about their recent games. I put my headphones in, hoping that she would take a hint and find someone else to have breakfast with. Only, she remained seated, munching on a dried apricot.

‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘but if a seven-year-old can do better than you, maybe I made a mistake in bringing you here.’

She pulled a face and boldly took one of my headphones out. ‘Maybe you should convince Hatter to let me leave.’

I glanced down at my earbud twirled between her fingers, before meeting that wide-eyed stare. ‘Maybe I don’t want to.’

Maybe you’re too valuable to let go.

There was a moment of quiet where neither of us looked away. She was close enough that I could see the variation of colours in her eyes, and the slight hint of pink washing over her cheeks. So that’s what she was thinking of. How very amusing.

If she had feelings for me, it would certainly be easier to convince her to go into the royal suite. But then again, she would cling to me in that annoying way.

And I don’t have the patience for that.

Breaking eye contact, I retrieved my headphone from her fingers. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re useful to have here at the Beach. It would be a shame to let you go.’

‘I’d be more useful if you helped me learn Japanese.’

‘No.’

At this, she turned away. For a long moment, neither of us spoke and I was just starting to enjoy the silence when she mumbled, ‘has it occurred to you that you’re the only one I can actually talk to?’

Ch... that’s a lie.

She had Kuina. The two of them got along rather nicely, and (name) was still blissfully unaware that none of it was real.

Ignoring her comment, I left to take my plate back to the kitchen, but when I re-entered the restaurant area, I noticed that every table was full. That was, except ours. Elbow on the tablecloth, (name’s) hand rested over her mouth, the smallest hint of a frown tugging at the corners. She was staring vacantly at the tiny bowl of half-eaten dried fruit.

‘Has it occurred to you that you’re the only one I can actually talk to?’

Understanding dawned on me. She stuck out like a sore thumb, alone on a table for four.

The other Beach members were avoiding her, probably because they knew only high school English and assumed she wouldn’t be able to speak Japanese. Even when talking to Kuina, I had seen her mixing up the two languages, sometimes struggling to understand small miscommunications.

Her expression reminded me of the Mona Lisa, those trips to the Louvre where I was made to tag along on my parents’ business trips, only to be left in the hands of his uninterested assistant. (Name) wasn’t smiling, but there was something hiding beneath the slight pull of her lips that echoed DaVinci’s painting. It was something uniquely human that I couldn’t seem to read.

It was enigmatic.

But it was also a perfect portrait of isolation. Everyone wants someone to understand them, to be seen for who they really are. And she was no exception.

The thought pulled at me, persistent, but I pushed it well away. If she was isolated, it would come in handy later on. So long as Kuina and I were the only people she could comfortably talk to, she would be more easily swayed into relying on us.

And when I do send her into the Royal Suite, she’ll have no reason not to trust me.

With that thought, I left her there alone in the hotel restaurant.

Later that night, it wasn’t until the clock ticked into the early hours of the morning that the hotel finally fell into a slumber. And it was then that I slipped out into the empty hallways.

The meeting room was lit only by the faint yellow glow of the patio’s outdoor lights. It wasn’t much against the darkness of an empty Tokyo, but it was enough to illuminate the pinboard propped up against the far wall. Names and numbers had been tacked on, all split into groups of four or five in preparation for tomorrow’s games.

My eyes scanned over the board, narrowing down on the one name that stood out in katakana, Niragi’s kanji right beside it.

But it was only when I switched Niragi’s name with my own, that her enigmatic frown appeared behind my eyes once more. That same portrait of isolation that haunted the back of my mind.

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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prodbyteez · 3 years

Text

cs. ukiyo [f]

(n.) living in the moment detached from the bothers of life

word count; 978

notes; ateez 9th member au, cw (food)

genre; fluff, they're in love. that's it

request; there is girl member in Ateez and she is extremely close to San. Both of them secretly like each other and yearn for each other but do not express it because of them being in the same group. But one day, something happens and the girl member can’t help but kiss San, perhaps to shut him up or perhaps outta nowhere

it was clear as day. clearer than the glass windows seonghwa deep cleaned on the weekends. sadly, clarity wasn’t enough. being the 9th member of ateez came with having another family to see you through your mountains and valleys. speaking of mountains.

new message:

[pretty boy choi <3] i know it’s 1 a.m and we have practice tomorrow at 7, but i can’t sleep and i really want ramen :)

you rolled your eyes unlocking your phone.

[me]: and what makes you think i’m going to go with you?

[pretty boy choi <3]: wait you’re not going to? :(

if you really don’t want to it’s okay. i’ll just go by myself then…

[me]: you’re such a baby. give me 5 minutes

[pretty boy choi <3]: hehe love youuu

you couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you rolled out of bed and grabbed your sneakers and a hoodie when you heard your phone ping again.

[pretty boi choi <3]: say it back meanie >:(

[me]: or what?

[pretty boy choi <3]: ...no hugs? for a week! >:(

[me]: that would hurt you more than me and you know that

[pretty boy choi <3]: ...fine

but are you cominggggg. it’s cold

[me]: i’m coming i’m coming

and indeed, upon entering the 7/11, your mountain man was wearing shorts and a sweater while standing in front of the freezer trying to get a drink.

no wonder you’re cold san

he turns around at the sound of your voice.

YAYY YOU CAME FOR ME

i came for the food, relax

he pouts and it’s so irresistible. you want to lean in and kiss the pout off of his face but then again - you’re in a 7/11 with cameras in every corner. not the best place to let your emotions flow.

it was always like this. secret hangouts, fleeting touches, warm smiles, eyes lingering on lips for a bit too long. it pained both of you but it was what was best for the group. it wasn’t like either of you were oblivious to each other’s feelings. like you said, clearer than seonghwa’s glass, but you had to think of 7 other people. it wasn’t fair for you two to be selfish just because you harbored not-so-secret feelings for each other. you were still able to hang around each other this way without drawing too much suspicion even though sometimes all you wanted to do was kiss each other senseless in the practice room or after a stage or after a win.

you followed san to the cashier and headed back upstairs to the lounge so you could both eat in peace. it was silent but not a heavy, awkward silence. more like the kind of silence that brings comfort. san scarfs his food down as the soup gets all over his face and some dry vegetables end up on his lip. you laugh and set your cup to the side, grabbing a napkin.

you eat like a child

he looks up with bright eyes as he watches your hand near his face.

maybe i do it on purpose so you can baby me

you don’t have to do anything on purpose for me to baby you

and there’s the silence again. a warm silence that embraces the two of you as you wipe his face gently. you can tell he’s staring, but you don’t mind.

hey

you feel him grab your wrist as you begin to pull away. he takes the napkin from out of your hand, crumpling it up and placing it on the side.

hey?

you look at him with big eyes startled at the sudden action. gosh he loved your eyes so much. you feel him move his hand from your wrist into your hand interlocking your fingers together.

you know i have feelings for you right? that’s never changed

i know. and you know i have feelings for you right? that’s never changed either

i know...it’s just...i don’t know, i feel bad that we can’t really act on it because of the company

he looks down at the table. the silence feels sad now.

yeah...it sucks for sure...you chuckle bitterly and try not to get too emotional in front of him. you don’t want him to feel worse than he probably already does, maybe in another place, or time, or universe even, we’d be free to fall in love

it takes a minute, but san looks up smiling.

that’s okay

it is?

yup, he looks over at the microwave clock. 1:49 a.m.

you hear his chair scrape against the floor before you feel him pulling you. let’s go. you scramble all the trash together throwing it away as he starts walking towards your dorm again, and it’s not long before you find yourself in your dark room, the only light source being the moon from those really clean windows, wow.

okay...um...goodnight then?

no no listen, you said that maybe in another place and time maybe we could fall in love right?

yeah, but i don’t get what that has to do wi-

so how about here and now?

what?

another place. another time. your room. 1...he takes a peek at his phone...57 a.m.

and you finally realize that he’s been holding you in his arms this entire time with his arms around your waist and your hands on his chest, foreheads as close as ever. and maybe you’ve fallen in love with a genius. you smile at him with that smile he would die for.

this works

you lean in a little more closing the gap and press your lips against his own letting your arms hook around the back of his neck. you can tell he’s smiling as he hums into the kiss. and for a few minutes, neither of you care about companies, or images, or even how your breaths smell like msg and spicy noodles. all that matters right now, is how freeing kissing each other feels.

networks: @ateezlovenet

#ateezlovenet #fluff #request #I VERY MUCH ENJOYED WRITING THIS #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON #I RLLY DO #HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #FEEELINGSSSS #san #choi san #san fluff #ateez #ateez fluff #san imagines #ateez imagines #writingsbyteez

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sokkasangel · 4 years

Text

will you do me the honor?

»»——— sokka x f!reader

summary: sokka & the reader are stargazing & start to ramble about the far future.

warnings: none

word count: 800

a/n: the reader is already an integrated member of the gaang in this fic. also this is a request by the lovely @queenofmankind !

»»——— masterlist

day three with no sleep.

you’d been counting the days since this new side adventure began. aang overheard a merchant spill about a once-in-a-lifetime meteor shower four days ago. the trip to the earth kingdom was long & arguous, so the everyone was excited for this distraction.

sure, sokka argued once in a while about timing, but after seeing how passionate the rest of the group was, he changed his tune. however, katara teased he only stopped badgering because you were the most excited out of all of your friends.

but seeing meteorites & talking about them are two different things. without the location or timing of the shower, this distraction soon became more stressful than the whole lord ozai ordeal.

each night, appa would land on a plateau or mountain, high above hindering clouds & tree lines. everyone kept their eyes peeled. you’d all sit in a circle, staring into different sections of the dark sky.

but nothing came.

“well, maybe it’s supposed to be tomorrow,” katara suggested each morning after a sleepless night.

so flash forward to day three. your eyes are bloodshot, & they hurt. aang & katara refuse to use their energy on bending. & poor sokka can barely walk, let alone say one understandable sentence.

on the verge of giving up, the gaang decided to rest in the lowlands of a nearby mountain range. it was mid-afternoon, so most of the group took light naps to gain some energy.

when you awoke a few hours later, the sun had already set. you panicked. what if you missed it? when was the next time you’d see a meteor shower?

you rose & tried to wake aang. he rolled over & muttered something garbled. poor baby.

you moved on to katara; you knew she wanted to see the shower badly. you shook & shook her, but it was no use. she was out of it.

then there was one: sokka.

it’s not that you didn’t want to be alone with sokka. you did. you really did. it’s just that you didn’t know how to be alone with him. it was always friendly between the two of you, but after a quickly shared kiss in the northern water tribe... your relationship seemed to be nothing but awkward.

there was so much unsaid. he still has that thing with suki... & did he even want to be with you like that? you two never made anything official.

but nevertheless, you weren’t going to deprive him of a potential good view. you turned away from his sister & sat next to him. he was curled up in his sleeping bag, snoring. & loud too.

you silently chuckled & moved a few strands of hair out of his face. he looked less crazy & energized when he was asleep. you traced the bridge of his nose with your finger, & then his jawline, & then his lips.

it wasn’t a bad kiss. not at all. it was actually kinda perfect. it happened before the gaang left the northern water tribe, when a straggling fire nation ship pulled up to the wall.

“i call dibs!” sokka yelled, as soon as he saw the red flag. when aang & katara gave him a look of concern, he replied, “cmon, i got this. don’t worry!”

he ran a little ways ahead, but then suddenly slowed his pace. he stopped, turned around, & made a beeline for you. because he was running, he basically crashed into you.

and before you could register what had happened, he grabbed your face & kissed you. it was soft & passionate & long overdue.

“i’ll be right back,” he said pulling away.

you had hoped he’d ask you out after dealing with the ship, but he never did. those feelings just merely lingered in confusion.

& so now you sat, outlining sokka’s face.

after realizing how weird this was, you decided just to wake him up. you were forced to do this multiple times before, so you were an expert.

you shook his shoulders, which caused him to stir. then you tickled him, making a loud laugh erupt. he immediately sat upright & begged you to stop.

you sat back admiring your triumph.

“not funny,” he said. he unzipped his sleeping bad & crawled out. “why’d you have to wake me up? it’s not even light out!” he gestured to the sky.

“well, i was going to give up on the whole meteor shower thing, but i have a good feeling about tonight.” you stood & offered your hand, which s sokka took hesitantly. “i couldnt wake the others, so it’s just us.”

you led sokka aways to a small opening in the wooded lowland. it was a perfect little circle. a few lightning bugs made way for you two. looking up, you noticed the tree line parted, allowing a good of the sky. you laid down on the grass, & sokka mimicked you.

it was silent for a couple of minutes. neither one of you knew what to say. you focused on a few constellations you recognized.

finally sokka spoke up.

“i wanna build a house.”

you laughed. “sokka, i think you need more sleep. you’re talking nonsense again.”

“no, i’m serious. i wanna build a house, maybe somewhere secluded. a little ways from town.” he didn’t look at you while he spoke, he kept his eyes on the sky above.

“okay?”

you followed a lone lightning bug across your line of view.

“&... & i want you to be there.”

what? what were you supposed to say? is he being serious?

when you didn’t respond, sokka kept going. “i wanna live with you in the house i’m gonna build. i- i want you there. a-and maybe after a while, there will be three or four mini-me’s & mini-you’s running around.”

“sokka...” you turned onto your side to face him. but he still refused to look at you. “you mean all that?”

it sounded perfect. more than perfect. a little life with sokka was all you wanted.

but what if this was a prank? was aang & katara hiding in the trees, waiting to jump out & say “ha! you thought!”?

or what if he was settling? suki wasn’t here, but you were. did he just miss her?

no, he’s not like that. is he?

the avoidance of eye contact made this worse. you couldn’t read his face. & you started to panic.

all you wanted was laying right in front of you. he was right there. it was all right there. in your grasp...

but you had your hand extended out fully. it was up to sokka to close this gap. would he quit talking & leave it to how it was? was this your fate with sokka? just meaningless conversations with underlying tension?

“of course i mean it!” he threw his whole body forward. he sat up & threw his arms up at the stars. and finally... finally he faced you. he stared right into you. and it almost seemed as if he was keeping himself from jumping to you.

“i’ve always meant it! i just didn’t know how to tell you.”

#atla masterlist #avatar #sokka x reader #atla #atla x reader #atla fanfic #atla x you #avatar fanfic #avatar sokka x reader #avatar x reader #avatar sokka #avatar the last airbender #sokka #sokka x female!reader

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fayeimara · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be || One For Every Billion

8. Fan Behaviour

Your impromptu group has slowly made way through the long street of vendors over the last hour, sampling different treats and picking up small trinkets and mementos of the festival.

It's been pretty exhilarating not only with the exuberant energy of the younger girls with whom Akari somehow seems to blend right into, but also the odd tension between you and Suna. He's mostly stayed by your side as you stroll behind the others, his watchful eye on his sister and her friends but you've also caught his discerning stare aimed your way many times as well.

In as little as sixty minutes, that's quite a lot of time to make eye contact with a silent and seemingly immovable companion for the night. You don't let his demeanor throw you off, however, and continue on, immovable in your own way. Which means you say what comes to mind but don't follow the urge to stumble or yammer to fill any quiet gaps in conversation.

Somehow, it works and instead of being awkward and uncomfortable, you find myself at an odd peace, even with the feeling in the air as if you're at a precipice.

You haven't felt this level of comfort and familiarity with someone since... well, since Toru, you suppose. At the thought, a prickle rushes over your skin but you shouldn't have anything to feel bad about. You're in no way committed to anyone and you're sure nothing will happen here, regardless.

"Sorry," You look over at Suna's quiet intervention to your thoughts, "I don't have a jacket on me."

You raise an eyebrow before realizing you must have shivered outwardly at your last thought, hm, you really are letting your guard down to have let a physical reaction slip through. And he really is as perceptive as you first thought to have noticed that small movement.

Looking over at his own simple yukata that suits him incredibly well, you feel the corner of your lip lift before replying, "No, but it's so worth it."

He flicks another one of those sideways looks at you, chin lifted slightly and face angled so you can't read too much of it, "Yeah? Like what you see?"

"Oh yeah." You bite down on your lip to stop your smile from breaking into a flirty grin. You really cannot stress how incredible attractive his laid back confidence is to you.

A small smile of his own breaks through and you catch it before he turns his face away to the stalls on his right. When he looks back, it's gone as if it never happened but there's a look in his eyes that makes you feel almost breathless.

You think you actually do lose your breath when he smirks and casually adds, "Me too."

"Y/n-chan! Rin-onii!" You don't get a chance to respond as Rika bounces back to you both, "We're at the end, but Akari-chan found us a perfect place for the best view for the fireworks!"

"Then lead on, brat." Suna huffs out in mock annoyance. Yeah, you've been getting slightly better at reading him over the past hour. It's a gift.

The two of you follow behind them again, heading towards one of the bridges over the river beyond the street you were just on. There are glowing paper lanterns floating in the water below, lazily passing underneath and by in groups across the length of the bridge. Strung up above you all and reflecting in the dark water are similar lanterns, casting a warm glow over your group's chosen little corner with only a few people some distance away from you all.

Even if the view of the fireworks isn't all that great from here, which you're not sure about since you don't know quite where they've been set up, this ambience is enough to make this a perfect place to rest. Suna leans his back against the railing, right beside where you've chosen to lean forward facing the other way, with your forearms resting on the wrought iron as you survey the lanterns that are carried away.

"Do you game?"

You jerk your head up at his random question, looking up at him where he's got his classic side gaze trained on you. Hm, maybe not so random as probing. You answer just as succinctly as he asked his question, "I do."

"Okay." Another smile tugs at his mouth, you're sure he knows you're being stubborn. "Your voice..."

He's baiting you but what exquisite temptation, you can't help but ask, "What about it?"

"It sounds so..." He trails off, as if lost in thought but you think he's just torturing you for your sass earlier.

You're usually patient, you swear, but.. "Suna." but, you're starting to think his patience might just outweigh yours.

"Familiar." His eyes meet yours again as soon as the word leaves his lips and you're called back to the moments you were thinking that being around him felt familiar too.

But that's not what he means is it? You wait for him to speak again and when he does, even though you're expecting his next implication, you're somehow still both surprised and flattered, "I really like your channel."

"You watch GameOverGirls?" Yeah, that's literal disbelief in your voice. You know you and Vee have a lot of followers on the channel the two of you started back in the fall, especially thanks to both your fans from other clubs and activities, but here in Japan? At least any family you have hear that know about it would make sense, they know you from the first degree. But how would Suna Rintaro have found you already?

He shrugs casually, expression unreadable when he answers, "I like your voice. And you actually know what you're talking about." Then, with a smirk, "The streams aren't too bad either."

You don't even know where to start. The audacity of this pretty boy. Now you're flattered, flustered, and somehow offended at the same time. "When did you figure it out?"

"Just now."

"Seriously?"

"I couldn't place it at first. But then I just did."

"Huh."

"Pretty sure this is where you say thank you."

"For what? Entertaining you?" You pretend to yawn with a hand to your lips and a roll of your eyes, "Talk about fan behaviour."

He tilts his head back fully to study the sky, "Guess I can't deny it, huh?"

With a laugh, you mirror his stance, turning around to lean back against the railing and tilting your head up to survey the stars. After a pause, you give him an opening, "Unless you think you can do better?"

"Well, I could have cut some serious time on that run through of Sekiro. And yeah, I'd be the one carrying you through Warzone." He pretends to grimace and you smack his arm in retaliation.

"Please, squad up and let's see who carries who."

"Okay, bet."

You're about to turn to look over at him to see if he's serious or not about his offer to join your party sometime when something streaks over the sky. You've been expecting the fireworks but when you realize what it is, you suddenly reach out to his arm with one hand and point with the other, excitedly exclaiming, "Oh my god, Suna, a shooting star! Make wish, quick!"

Then you're watching its briefly brilliant light slowly disappear, scrambling to think of your own wish without realizing you're already making one by wishing that you could enjoy more moments like this. It takes you a little bit to realize you're still lightly holding Suna's wrist and he hasn't said anything.

After another beat, once the star has completely disappeared, your eyes slip back over to meet his only to realize he's already been watching you. You're compelled to break the building tension and choose to ask, "Did you make a wish?"

The serious, piercing look in his eyes holds you in a trance as he replies, "I did."

Light blooms across his face just as he answers, sharp, bright bursts accompanied by loud booms and pops, but you can't tear your gaze away from his own immovable, captivating gaze. It's better this way, the reflection in his eyes as they echo the light cast by the fireworks.

So the two of you stand there watching each other instead of the fireworks, surrounding by the cheering of your group leaning on the railing across from you both, conveniently facing away from you to give the illusion of a private moment. One that belongs just to you and Suna.

x-x-x-x-x

The rest of the night flies by quick as you and Suna are pulled to rejoin the rest of the group shortly after your interesting moment together. You don't know what it means but what you are sure of is that you'll be replaying it over and over in your head later, unable to stop from analyzing such a poignant moment with a guy that was a complete stranger to you just hours before.

Neither of you really have the chance to explore it further either, as you're both pulled this way and that by the others for the rest of the activities. No more breathtaking moments relatively alone together, but you don't mind too much, you have to think it over after all and need a minute to catch your breath in the meantime.

Everyone writes down hopes and wishes on paper lanterns before setting them afloat to join the hundreds of other dreams that float away hopefully to a benign deity. Your group then stops at the shrine, placed at the apex of the location, to offer your respective prayers before returning to loop around to any stalls you missed.

As you're all winding down for the night, Rika asks for your socials and you happily oblige. Suna, on the other hand, manages to slip your phone out of his sister's hand as the two of you are exchanging the devices back and taps at it briefly before handing it back to you. You smirk and mouth 'fan behaviour' when you see he's added his contact info, including his twitter handle.

He just raises an unbothered eyebrow and replies out loud, "Just wait until it's you asking for my autograph. You'll thank me then."

"I won't need to thank you if you're my friend."

"But you'll still need my autograph?" He smirks at you.

You can't help but tease about something you both had discussed earlier, "Didn't you tell me you were scouted to go to school here? I'm sure I'll be wanting your name on a paper someday."

"You'll want my name, huh? At least buy me dinner first."

You blush as you realize how he twisted your words and, for once, you don't have a comeback. So you make a reckless, last ditch effort to act like he didn't just win this round and do the opposite of denying his words, "Sure, Suna Y/n has a nice ring, I guess."

Holy shit. You didn't think anything couldn't completely break his impassive expression but you think you might have accidentally have won this round as you see the shock roll his expression right before the red of a full blush sneaks up to kiss his cheeks and tips of his ears.

His surprised eyes are wide on yours as if he's frozen solid by your words before he blinks and then it's like a shutter as he recollects himself and suddenly he's completely unreadable again. But you saw it, that moment that Suna Rintaro was completely caught unaware and absolutely flustered.

You both know who won, though somehow, he still gets the last word, "Well, that's definitely one way to get a permanent autograph."

The two of you turn and start to move forward to the exit in mutual silence, neither you nor Suna noticing Rika still by you both, having watched your exchange in delighted surprise and gears now turning in her head as she realizes her half baked idea earlier seems to have worked even better than she could have ever imagined.

Prev | Next

Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Remember Vee's tweet back in the Falling Into Winter Interlude? Sept 18th (21-09-18 timestamp if you're curious) - she was promoting her and Y/n's gaming channel - GameOverGirls :)

-There was still another hint connection in regards to it back in the same episode

-One that may be one or two degrees of relation as to how Suna found the channel ;)

-He really does like Y/n's voice specifically (even though Vee's got a nice one too but he's barely noticed lol), long before he saw the pretty face to match :D

-Y/n and Vee only suffered through Sekiro on a bet from Key and Tee

-Suna realized it was crazy since he just met Y/n tonight but... he kind of liked how his name sounded with hers..

A/N: Seriously, why is everything about him so pretty??? His name, looks, voice. Just...why? Anyways, with this episode, I've caught up to where I'm currently at in written segments for this series so updates might be slightly slower than usual until I can pull back ahead. Additional notes - I don't know why but I'd mixed up the pic for Suna's priv with his main so ended up using the same one for both since it was too late by the time I realized. It'll be fixed from here on. Also, clearly, the yukata pic makes him look older but he's still 14, it's more about the visual of him in his simple (but striking) yukata <3 Finally... can we all guess which precious bby boy is next???

Taglist: @delusivist, @prettyinblack231, @kac-chowsballs, @sakusasimpbot, @hawkthekinnie, @poppi144, @oikawasbuttcheeks

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butterflymar · 4 years

Text

DAY 2: FAVORITE BL DRAMA

I have quite a few... I can’t choose just one so bare with me lol

Life Senjou No Bokura

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: One day after school, the serious Ito and the child-like Nishi meet by chance, as each endeavors to remain walking on the sidewalk`s white line. As time goes by, Ito recognizes he is drawn to Nishi in a way that is new to him. Nishi, for his part, is frustrated that they only get to meet on the sidewalk. Ito decides to act upon his feelings and kisses a surprised Nishi, who agrees they need to walk side by side for a change. The sparks between them are undeniable as their relationship blossoms in high school, survives the college years, and matures into adulthood. A deeply moving work that bears witness to loving partners, whose unchanging feelings must co-exist within a world of changing realities.

My Personal Thoughts: I already wrote a review for this so I am going to re-share some of those thoughts here. This is one that I have watched countless times already. They went by the manga for mostly all of the episodes and I appreciated seeing that. They gave more context for certain details that may have been lost while reading the manga and translated it to screen. I think they depicted the age gaps well too. For 4 episodes only, I feel that they did a great job including the most important aspects. Actually now that I think of it, I would have loved to see more of them in their early 20s depicted on screen because that was like one of there honeymoon phases and I’m a hopeless romantic lol but that’s just a personal preference not complaining. Also, the show stopped at age 40 and they could have gone on throughout there entire lives but I understand why they chose not too. The manga is great as well!!! I think that the main actors depicted beautiful true love very well. They had amazing chemistry. Japanese BL’s have that special spark about them that I love. I also loved that it showed there relationship from high school till there later years. I don’t see that a lot with BL’s. They usually just stick to one time period. The aspect about them being connected by a line in relation to there love was a nice touch as well. I am glad that it has a happy ending as well. This is a pretty quick one to watch and a great one at that!!! If you haven’t watched it yet, I would highly recommend it!!!

I Told Sunset About You

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: Teh and Oh-aew were best friends until a boyhood line of reasoning turned them into rivals. Years later as they're preparing for university admissions, both pursuing interests in the field of Communication Arts, the two meet in a Chinese language class. Their reunion awakens complicated and unstable feelings.

My Personal Thoughts: Same as above, I already wrote a review for this so I am going to re-share some of those thoughts here. This is DEFINITELY one of my top BL shows of the year 2020. This is such a beautiful masterpiece of a show!!! I remember when the preview trailer first came out… I was already hooked!!! I was on the lookout for it and it did not disappoint me one bit when it finally started. I looked forward to seeing it every week. It made me feel all of the emotions. I was up here sitting in my room crying over everything. I don’t think any other BL has made me this emotional before in my life. The two lead actors really DELIVERED!!! I could feel every single stare, every single body movement, and every single touch. You could cut the TENSION with a knife!!! No one couldn’t tell me that there wasn’t a magnetic true love between these two. I know this sounds cliche but it's like they were destined to be together from when they were childhood friends. Also, I would love to see them in future projects!!! The cinematography in this show is TOP FREAKIN NOTCH!!! Every single scene is just so beautifully shot. The cinematography alone makes me want to cry lol I saw somewhere that someone said the filming of the show reminded them of an indie film and I totally agree!!! The writing and directing on this show was impeccable to me!!! No cringy dialogue and every single line served its purpose well. This is movie grade writing. I also wanted to quickly just say that I loved the attention and callback to details throughout like with the tutoring book that Teh made for Oh-aew that was left empty by the end of episode 4, the flower that was supposed to be colored the same as Tan’s garment but Teh colored it red because he was thinking of Oh-aew, the rubbing of Oh-aew’s back when he sniffles, the references to Teh’s favorite actor, and the use of Chinese phrases to get meaning across. I could go on and on but wow I just loved how they really connected all of the details throughout. I can’t wait for Season 2!!!

Theory of Love

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: Third is a filmology major and a member of the Savage Team along with his best friends Two, Bone, and Khai, but he has a secret. Third has been secretly in love with Khai for years. For three years, he has kept his secret love in his heart, silently supporting and loving Khai while knowing there is absolutely no future between them since Khai is as straight as a streetlight pole and also an absolute player. To make matters worse, Khai has a "no dating friends" policy. How long can Third love Khai silently while watching Khai bring a different girl home every night? Third has tried to see Khai as just a friend. But has failed time and time again. Because as easy as it is to fall in love, to stop is just as hard. Maybe even harder. That is until Third learns a secret that breaks his heart completely. But when Third decides to stop, Khai decides to start.

My Personal Thoughts: As sad as this show can make me feel at times, I love rewatching it. I still to this day think that it is one of the most well written BL’s that I have seen. Everything flows nicely and everything connects. Your not left wondering how you got from point A to point B. I thought the show had great character development especially when it came to Khai’s character towards the end of series. I know a lot of people had mixed feelings about his character due to how careless and dare I say stupid he acted at times but if he can make the audience hate him that much as a character... I would say he is doing something right!!! Gun’s acting never fails to amaze me!!! He really is one of the best actors I have seen. I know he had to be drained from all of that crying that he did throughout the show though lol It just goes to show that when you truly love someone you can’t just stop what you are feeling inside that easily no matter how the other person feels about you or treats you. As the old saying goes, love is blind. I also loved the friend group as well and Two and Bones side stories with the teacher and crush from school. They added to the shows greatness and didn’t take away from it. The friendship dynamics throughout the show was I feel something that really kept me engaged. The cast acted well together. There was no awkwardness or hesitation. I feel everyone bought there best for this drama. They incorporated the movie references so cleverly and I love how the title of each episode was the title of a real romance film. Just the overall theme of film was very intriguing to me. This drama left me filled with heartache and a rollercoaster of emotions but the ending is worth it!!!

HIStory3: Make Our Days Count

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: At first glance, high schoolers Xiang Hao Ting and Yu Xi Gu appear to be polar opposites: While Xiang Hao Ting is an outgoing, hot-headed extravert and some-time bully, Yu Xi Gu prefers to keep a low profile and focus on his schoolwork. They seem bound for totally different futures – the bookish Yu Xi Gu looks destined for academic success, while life is just a long popularity contest for Xiang Hao Ting. But a quirk of fate – and a crucial intervention by a female schoolmate – results in the two young men’s paths crossing. But there is more to both young men than first meets the eye. Xiang Hao Ting was not always this way. He started out as a perfect student until he discovered the joys of going off the rails. And Yu Xi Gu has a reason for being so aloof and studious: His parents died in a traffic accident while he was younger, and he is being fostered by his aunt. As such, he works hard to get good grades in an effort to win a scholarship and ease the financial burden on his relatives. Yu Xi Gu also works part-time at a convenience store, where his manager Liu Zhi Gang has developed a crush on a man he has met at the gym. Back at school, meanwhile, Yu Xi Gu and Xiang Hao Ting find themselves drawn together, and passions ignite. The former notices that he has the unique ability to bring Yu Xi Gu out of his shell – and becomes intent on melting his cold-as-ice exterior. What will happen when their two worlds collide? And can love be the catalyst that helps bring these two unlikely students together – as their high school days draw to a close?

My Personal Thoughts: I will stand by this notion for all of my days but this show is one of the best shows I have seen PERIOD!!! Not even best BL shows I have seen but just in general. It highkey saddens me that it is rated at an 8.1 right now on MyDramaList due to how it ended when other than that... it’s a top notch show. This was one that I watched as it was airing and I would get excited to see it every week. My clown self should have known by the title “Make Our Days Count” that some mess was about to occur but I didn’t pick up on it. Now, I just disregard the last episode (WE DON’T KNOW HER!!!). You can just tell that they had a great budget for this series. The production was on point. It had great cinematography, great storylines, and it felt realistic too. The main couples acting was OFF THE CHARTS AMAZING. I loved the whole opposites attract thing going on. Although the show was set in high school... it almost didn’t feel like it nor did it have those typical clichés going on. I liked how it dealt with topic of LGBTQ+ acceptance as well. I wasn’t so sure about the side couples relationship at first but I grew to love them as time went on. One last thing I wanted to point out was that even though I am always looking for a happy ending... I learned from this show that not everyone can get a happy ending. That’s not how life works sadly. In real life, there have been a lot of people who were truly in love and lost there partners tragically. Although it may be hard to accept the outcome, it is something that happens in real life. This is a drama that you appreciate even more as time goes on. It truly is a gem of a series!!!

TharnType

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: Type Thiwat is a handsome freshman with a passion for football and spicy food. Although he’s a friendly boy, he hates gay people because, in his childhood, he was molested by a man. His life turns upside down when the new academic year of college brings along a charismatic roommate, Tharn Kirigun. Tharn is a gorgeous, compassionate music major, who is also openly gay. When Type learns this, he is determined to make Tharn leave the dorm, as he won't live with a gay person. Tharn is equally determined not to give into Type's homophobic tantrums. With a gay guy and a homophobic guy that have to share a small space together for the rest of the year — what can possibly be the outcome of their story? Hatred? Or maybe love?

My Personal Thoughts: *Goes to hide in a corner* I know this drama is problematic and controversial as hell but it’s like a train wreck that you can’t turn away from. What truly carries the show I feel is the chemistry between MewGulf. I don’t think I would have enjoyed the series as much if other actors were cast in those roles. They just exude confidence, passion, love, and lust. In terms of the storyline, I found it to be a chaotic occurrence of situations where I just had to know what was going to go on next. Everything that occurred had me intrigued for the next episode and so on and so forth. I loved Type’s character development. One quick thing I want to touch on was I know there were a lot of problematic things that happened which I will touch on at a later date but one thing I wish people were more understanding of was Type’s outbursts, thoughts, and feelings in certain situations. He was a victim of sexual assault so I felt the way he handled certain things was in response to what he had gone through as child and I think some viewers kind of missed that and were almost too harsh on him. Everyone processes and deals with trauma differently. This show went through so many twists and turns and I honestly lived for it especially the shocker towards the end of the series. I didn’t see that one coming at all!!! Despite all of its flaws, this show still holds a special place in my heart.

Honorable Mention:

Cherry Magic: As of today, this show has 4 episodes left and I think I am just going to come out and say that THIS IS MY FAVORITE BL OF THE YEAR!!! It’s a beautiful Japanese BL and I rewatch the old episodes while I wait for new ones to come out alot. It’s such a fluffy, heartwarming, and precious Bl series!!! I love it to pieces!!!

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ghostiewriter · 4 years

Text

prologue | tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

Summary: JJ’s life is thrown upside down after a school trip. Now he just decide what to do about his newly found powers and discover just how much his life has changed.

Warnings: contains strong language, a teeny sliver of sexual references, just the three boys being dumbasses? a small smidge of angst (it barely counts) and some fighting, kinda amateur but he’ll learn eventually

Word Count: 8.2K (I’m so sorry)

A/N: ahhh so here’s the prologue! Hope you guys enjoy, it’s a bit of a mess and it wasn’t meant to be this long but oh well! This is just to kinda set up the world, I promise the chapters won’t be this messy! There will be way more Kiara in the next chapter as well, don’t worry! Like I said, this is just a filler chapter! Also this is unedited and I am kinda unwell so lets hope this makes sense :) feel free to leave any feedback!!

masterlist // taglist // ao3

JJ prided himself in always loving an adventure. A random trip at 3am when one of his buds felt down? Hell yeah! An exploration through the streets of New York when he decided to ditch his Spanish final? Let’s go, dude! A spontaneous road trip with his boys during summer? JJ was down! But this? This just felt like some sick joke.

Admittedly, JJ wasn’t listening in class when the trip was announced. And as Pope liked to remind him every couple of minutes, this whole situation could have been avoided if he had listened in class. But can you blame the guy? A whole day off school to visit some big corporation uptown where he was getting a free lunch—JJ would be stupid to reject that. Yet, JJ should’ve known there would’ve been some catch, some flaw in this trip. And that flaw was that he had to spend the day walking around Cameron Industries, the biggest nerd fest on the East coast.

JJ was bored out of his mind.

Pope was ecstatic beyond belief.

John B was ready to punch JJ in the face if opened his mouth to complain one more time.

“Why call it a trip when all we do is listen to these dudes in lab coats droning on about some weird gene thing? Like c’mon! A trip is meant for relaxing. Where the fuck am I gonna relax around here, huh? The fucking gift shop—“

“Shut up,” John B hissed at the blonde, smacking JJ’s arm for good measure, to which the blond dramatically whined at. “Just please…shut up. You’ve got one more hour until lunch, alright? Don’t ruin this for him.”

JJ huffed as he glanced over at Pope, who was eagerly questioning every scientist they came across. As much as it pained him to agree with John B, he did have a point. There weren’t enough fingers in the world to count the amount of times JJ had dragged Pope into some anxiety-provoking, impulsive situation. The least he could do is suck it up a little and mope silently as they walk through countless fancy labs that probably each cost more than his apartment complex altogether.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so chuff,” JJ huffed, his fingers twisting the rings that adorned his hands—a force of habit when he was uncomfortable and bored. “You usually back me up on this kinda stuff—“ But JJ didn’t need to finish his question. Oh no, because the answer was right there.

JJ smirked as he turned to John B, one eyebrow raised in question. However, his friend seemed much more content staring at Sarah Cameron from where she stood near the front of the group, smiling towards the tour guide like they were close friends. Which they probably were considering they were standing in the building her father owned.

Ward Cameron. Renowned scientist, billionaire and founder of Cameron Industries. A true inspiration. What started as a hopeless experiment in his high school chemistry lab ended up forging Ward Cameron’s path to success in the biggest multibillion-dollar multinational corporation that held the future for chemical engineering. JJ just thought he was some lucky rich kid that had daddy’s money to support his dream.

And it was for that reason that JJ rolled his eyes, nudging his friend out of his daze. “You do know you don’t stand a chance, right?” JJ commented.

Harsh but true. JJ and the rest of the kids that attended this trip went to Midtown High School. True to its name, it was smack bang in the middle of two very different livelihoods. Uptown Queens: home to the kids who live of old money, designer clothes and trust funds. And Downtown Queens: home to working-middle class who would spend the rest of their lives making a sliver of the uptown folks’ wages.

Take a wild guess which area JJ is from.

However, some old dude in the 60s decided to try and bridge the gap between the classes and thus, the school was born. All it did was let each know how much they resented the other. Yet, John B had fallen into the alluded mind-set of that old geezer and set his eyes on Sarah Cameron, the most uptown chick you’ll get. And of course, JJ was there to remind him of that very fact and push him off that imaginary bridge. It was a fool’s hope to combine the uptown and downtown folk; it was a fool’s hope to try and make them get along. It won’t happen now nor ever.

John B flipped him off. JJ only grinned in response.

Nonetheless, that ended up being the most exciting part of the hour. JJ shuffled along at the back of the group, his eyes constantly wandering around the labs. Did he have any clue what any of it was? Hell no, but he was naturally curious and couldn’t help his hands from wandering. Sue him, he was a teenage boy with ADHD and a knack for getting into trouble—he was bound to do something stupid.

His interest in science perked up a bit when he noticed a small enclosure of what looked like completely normal spiders, yet as their tour guide spoke, they were anything but normal.

“Our team have been working on taking the genetic code of three separate species of arachnids and combining them to form a super-spider. One which can survive and reproduce and live as any other would. It is the first step in the future of genetic engineering and modification. With this technology, we could find cures to diseases that were deemed impossible to cure. We could form a stronger, better human race—“

“Isn’t that unethical?” A voice interrupted. Everyone’s head snapped towards the curly-haired girl that stood by Sarah Cameron’s side. JJ knew very little about her—considering this was honestly the first time he had seen her—and he wasn’t complaining…nor was he actually listening to what she was saying. “I mean, won’t this just introduce a future of designer babies and a superiority of the genetically modified over the natural?”

“I understand your concerns,” The tour guide—a young redhead who honestly didn’t look a day over twenty-two but then again, JJ guessed everyone around here was some sort of genius. “But I can assure you there are a number of protocols behind this research that would prevent such a thing from happening.”

“Can you really stop the rich from getting what they want?” Ironic considering she was a rich, uptown chick.

An awkward silence washed over the group before the teacher quickly cleared their throat and directed the tour guide to continue.

JJ—being the foolishly bored teenager he was—made his way over to the unknown girl, standing next to her as they looked at the spiders in the enclosure.

“Poor things.” She sighed sadly. JJ only raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

“You know,” He began, his voice smooth and suave—the usual JJ charm he used on girls. “I totally agree with you on all those…ethic…things…” He trailed off, risking a glance towards the girl who only narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?” She questioned, nodding her head for him to continue.

“Yeah, I mean, save the animals, am I right?” He grinned, nervously scratching the nape of his neck. The girl seemed unamused.

“Uh huh, sure thing, buddy.” She stated before turning to catch up with the group. But JJ’s voice stopped her once again.

“How about I take you out some time? And then you can tell me all about all this ethic stuff.” He proposed, his usual charming smirk on his lips. He was a lady’s man, he knew he was gorgeous and JJ would be a fool if he didn’t use it to his advantage. One small date to charm her before JJ wiggled his way into her bed, then boom—they never have to speak to each other again. Plus, this girl may be one of Sarah Cameron’s wee minions, but JJ didn’t let class get in the way of his ‘love’ life. He just resents the lot of those uptown kids in every other aspect of his life. No harm in fraternizing with the enemy, right? What other people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It’s just a little bit of fun.

“Do you even know my name?” She asked him, her arms crossed over her chest. It took a lot of self-control for JJ not to follow the movement. He cleared his throat, leaning one hand against the enclosure.

“Uh…Samantha?”

“Nice try, asshole.” And with that, she turned around to join the group.

JJ stood there, a little dumbfounded by the encounter. He was taken aback not only by the fact she had just rejected him, but with the sass in which she did so. He would be lying if he didn’t say it was a little hot, but he expected it. Uptown kids always thought there were better, superior to the downtown kids.

But JJ didn’t wallow in his rejection for long when he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his hand. He glanced down, seeing a spider on the back of his hand and his instant reaction was to shake it off. “Little shit!” He hissed, looking down at the small bite mark on his skin.

“Hey, dude, you comin’?” He heard John B call out. He glanced around, unable to spot the spider. He shrugged, JJ has had worse than a small spider bite. He’ll survive.

“Yeah, I’m starving, let’s go!”

Little did JJ know that was his last day as a normal, hyperactive teen.

**********

“I’m telling you something is fucking wrong with me!”

Both boys looked at their blond friend with sceptic looks. It was Saturday morning and far too early to deal with JJ nonsense. Especially when they could barely understand what he was going on about. It was around 6am when John B and Pope received a very distressed call from JJ. Neither one was very sure for what reason, all they heard was ‘freaky’ and ‘fuck’ multiple times during the call. But he sounded like he was really going through something so they eventually went over—arriving at JJ’s place at 7:30am. JJ was too on edge to even try and call them out on it.

“Dude, breathe,” Pope muttered, watching JJ run holes in his carpet from how much he was pacing. “Calm down a little—“

“I can’t calm down, Pope!” JJ snapped, looking at his friends who seemed far too calm. “Like I don’t know if I am freaked out or pumped but just—“ He paused, seeing the look of confusion on his friends’ faces. He huffed and pulled his shirt off, looking at them expectedly. They didn’t react.

“JJ, did you really call us down here on SATURDAY MORNING because you have another birthmark that looks like George Clooney because I will literally murder you—“

“No, no!” JJ hissed before pointing down to his abs, and then his arms. Then he began flexing, yet he was met with blank expressions again.

“Dude, as much as I love staring at your abs, what the fuck are we meant to be looking at?” Pope asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“They are different!”

“They are?”

“They are!”

“Uh…how?”

JJ scoffed, as if it were obvious. “They are more defined!”

“…more defined?”

“Clearly!”

John B let out an unattractive snort, pushing his hair back as he leaned back against the wall, all his worry for his friend now gone. He was honestly concerned it was something important. “What’s next? Is your hair too perfect, J? Need a bag to cover how gorgeous you are?” Pope snickered along with him.

“I mean, I am having a good hair day…” JJ trailed off before shaking his head and turning to the two of them again. “But that isn’t all, okay? It gets freakier!”

Both boys looked at JJ with amusement from their spots on his bed.

JJ rolled his eyes before he stretched his hand out, his palm facing the ceiling with his two middle fingers pressed into his palm. Not even seconds later, a THWAP echoed through the now-silent bedroom.

Both teenagers looked down at the string of substance that just existed their friend’s wrist, completely shell-shocked. It was John B who spoke first, looking away from the white substance on JJ’s bed.

“Is that like…the same as…did you just—“ John B points down to his groin area, only for JJ to grimace.

“Dude, no! EW! I didn’t just jizz from my wrist!”

“It looks like you just did.”

Pope quickly kneeled down next to the bed, hesitantly reaching to touch the stuff, ignoring John B’s comments on how disgusting it was. “It feels like…silk,” He murmured in confusion before pulling his hand away, noticing how it stuck to his skin. “And it’s sticky.”

John B gagged in the back, but JJ ignored him. “It’s like glue, a really strong glue! And then after like twenty minutes, it disappears!” He told Pope as he reached for the scissors to help his sticky situation.

“How did you do that though?” Pope’s mind was reeling with the possibilities, the science behind the completely inhumane thing JJ had just done and he had witnessed with his very own eyes.

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Does it have anything to do with that weird-ass bump on your hand?” John B perked up, nodding towards JJ. All three boys’ gazes shifted to his left hand, where in fact there was a small red bump, no bigger than a grape at most.

“Nah, dude, that’s just from the spider bite yesterday.” JJ answered with a shrug. Pope chocked on the air, looking at JJ like he had three heads.

“I—you mean the fucking GENETICALLY MODIFIED SPIDERS FROM THE LAB?!” JJ winced, trying to shush Pope but there was no avail, this boy was going off on a rant. “Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell anyone yesterday? JJ, those could’ve been poisonous or had long term effects or—“

“Made you some weird mutant with cool powers.” John B added. He quickly shut up when he received the ‘look’ from Pope.

“We have to tell someone at Cameron Industries.” Pope concluded. JJ was quick to pipe up, taking a few steps away from Pope on instinct.

“What, no way! They are gonna stick me under some fancy microscope or inject me with needles full of…stuff! I’m not going back into that geek galore!” JJ stated. Pope looked like he was ready to open his mouth, and start spouting out arguments as to why JJ should head over to the professional scientists over his weird, overnight mutation. But it was actually John B who came to a more mutual conclusion.

“Or we just do our own tests,” John B shrugged, both boys turning to look at him with fairly discombobulated expressions. “C’mon, Pope is basically a scientist and he is smart enough to figure out whatever the hell is going on with you!”

“I don’t have half the equipment they would have—“ Pope tried to argue.

“Look, we aren’t going to find out anything through a microscope. The best way is just go out there and test what he can do. How hard can it be?” John B grinned.

Pope wanted to argue that it was very hard. Though he had read countless papers on the genetically modified spiders, even he didn’t know enough to do a full conclusive examination on JJ and his new state. He didn’t have half the things he needed, but when he looked over at JJ and saw a much more relaxed—and hopeful—expression on his face from when he had suggested returning to the lab, Pope sighed and shook his head a little.

“Just so you both know, I am going to say, ‘I told you so’ when this goes downhill.”

**********

That is how JJ, Pope and John B found themselves standing on the roof of JJ’s apartment complex, the busy streets of New York oblivious to the scientific discovery that is happening above them. JJ couldn’t tear his eyes off the skyline, finding something about it much more relaxing that the potential of just what his new body could do. He was scared—no, scratch that—he was nervous, anxious if you will. JJ couldn’t lie that a part of him was excited. It felt surreal, like something out of one of those comics he used to nick from the uptown kids. Then again, JJ wasn’t very fond of the idea of being some new scientific discovery. It made him feel like he would end up like one of those poor frogs they had to dissect in biology—poor fuckers.

“Okay, so the spiders were made from three separate species to optimize their physical properties—being able to adapt to new environments, heightened senses to avoid predators, enhanced strength and speed, stronger material to create webs for larger prey—all that jazz. No research has been done on the psychological properties though.” Pope rambled, his hands moving wildly whilst both boys stared at him with clueless expressions.

“Which means?”

“JJ could have some really cool powers but could also be going totally insane,” Pope said with a sheepish shrug. “Like I’m talking full Tasmanian devil mode here—“

“Very reassuring, dude.” JJ stated bluntly. He took it all back, he wasn’t excited. He was terrified now. He glanced down at the small bite on his hand, which was slowly deflating as time passed. JJ wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried that the second the bite disappeared, it could mean something really bad—like him turning into some massive humanoid arachnid that attacks the city. He shivered at the thought. “Right, let’s just get on with this.”

John B clapped a hand on his back, a small smile on his lips. “You’ll be fine, dude, alright? You’re in good hands.” He tried to reassure JJ. And JJ knew that everything Pope was saying was just to help him understand what was going on too, but he couldn’t help but think there was a small part of Pope that enjoyed using JJ as a lab rat. He was a scientist, could you really blame him?

“Yeah, I know.” He said with a curt nod.

“Let’s try the web again, see how far you can shoot it.” Pope piped up, moving to stand on the other side of JJ. “The average spider can shoot a web to about four feet, but these spiders have the DNA of the Darwin Bark Spiders which can shoot webs up to eighty-two feet. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you could reach the same, maybe more.” He then gestured for JJ to try it out, pointing towards the building opposite then, which was only around eight feet away, at most.

JJ took a deep breath before extending his hand out, the THWAP sounding clear despite the ongoing traffic down below. Yet, the web barely shot out a couple of inches before landing on the edge of the roof with a disappointing splat.

“Well then…” John B trailed off, all three boys staring at the failed web shot.

“You clearly weren’t trying, just concentrate!” Pope said with a clap of his hands. He only received a blank stare from JJ.

“I was trying, dumbass! It’s harder than it looks. It…feels weird, man. Like a sneeze…from my wrist!” He huffed, but Pope only nudged his shoulder to try again.

JJ sighed and turned to face the opposite building again. He raised his arm, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to imagine the web shooting out and reaching the opposing roof. He tried to imagine more web fluid being shot out his wrist, he tried to imagine like he actually knew what he was doing. Not even a second later, the THWAP sound was heard and suddenly there was a white rope of silk extending from JJ’s hand onto the next roof over.

“Holy shit!”

JJ grabbed the web, giving the web a light tug. He was expecting for the web to break, for his hand to be covered in web fluid. But instead the web remained, strong and sturdy as though it was bolted onto the roof.

“This is crazy, dude.”

He snapped his hand back, watching the web breakaway from his palm and flop, hanging from the brick wall like a pathetic piece of string. “That was cool as fuck,” He murmured as he glanced down at his wrists in shock. He gently ran his thumb over his wrist, a delightful shiver running down his back. It caused him to smile a little, thinking about just how far he could shoot these webs.

“Dude, you could swing around like Tarzan now.” John B snickered. JJ gave him a deadpan look but he couldn’t help himself from glancing down at his wrists again.

“You think?”

“Only one way to find out.” John B grinned.

Pope’s eyes widened slightly as he quickly began to shake his head. “You don’t know if the web is strong enough to hold his weight, he could hurt himself or—“

“You calling me fat?” JJ gasped with a pout, a hand placed over his heart. “You offend me, Pope. Thought you were better than this.”

“If calling you fat will stop you from swinging off a building like an idiot then yes, I am calling you fat.” He hissed.

JJ grinned, his eyes quickly searching around before he noticed a large satellite pole sticking out from one of the nearby buildings. It was a bit further away, but JJ let the pride of his last success get to his head. “I can do it, bud, don’t worry about it.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Don’t encourage him!”

“He can do it!”

“How the fuck do you know that!?”

“Sixth sense, my dude.”

JJ blocked out the bickering, taking a couple of steps back from the edge of the roof. A running start never hurt anyone, right? He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck from left to right. Never once did he let his gaze shift away from the satellite pole. He crouched down a little, already feeling the adrenaline build up in him. “Diver down, boys.” He grinned before he began sprinting to the edge of the building. As he reached the edge, he pushed himself off and extended his arm out, imagining the web wrapping around the pole and seconds later it did. He held the web tightly in his grip as he felt himself swinging towards the building. Whoops and cheers could be heard, though JJ wasn’t sure if they were coming from him or the boys back on the roof.

“JJ, THE WALL! LOOK OUT!”

But JJ was a little too pumped up to even comprehend what Pope was screaming until he noticed the brick wall getting closer. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ The words echoed in his head and he tried to think of a way to slow himself down. But it was useless as he found himself colliding with the wall, his eyes clenched shut on impact.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, his limbs sprawled out like a starfish. A part of him thought he was dead, that maybe he hit the wall way too hard, he had a lot of momentum after all. But the muffled screams coming from his friends was enough to tell him that he was very much alive. “I’m alive!” He yelled out, slowly beginning to blink his eyes open, finding himself face to face with a brick wall. “What the…” He trailed off when he glanced at his hands, finding them attached to the brick wall.

His heart was pounding when he looked down, seeing that he was attached to the wall, very far up from the ground, with nothing suspending him. His mind was reeling, almost as though he was waiting for himself to fall and his body to meet the ground. But it never happened.

“You’re like an actual fucking spider, dude!” He heard John B yell, as though he was right beside him, which caused him to wince a little. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing them still very far away on that roof.

JJ shook his head and glanced up, seeing the edge of the roof a couple of feet from where he was stuck on the wall. He took a deep breath before slowly removing one hand, and when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall, he moved it up higher. Slowly, JJ found himself scaling the side of the building, his heart beating wildly even as he pulled himself over the edge, both feet finding the solid ground of the roof. He turned back to look at his friends, both of whom looked shocked beyond belief.

“What the hell…” He could hear Pope whisper, which only caused JJ’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought.” He muttered to himself, only now realising that the bite mark on his hand was long gone.

**********

JJ winced a little as he heard the bell ring, indicating the end of this period and the start of lunch—his favourite subject. Yet, JJ wasn’t exactly jumping out of his seat as usual. It was now Monday and everyone was back at school. JJ, Pope and John B had spent the better use of the whole weekend to run around, using JJ like some lab rat and seeing just what he could and couldn’t do. And JJ was fucking exhausted. The amount of times he had face-planted into a wall was beyond funny and he had learnt the hard way that the more on edge he was, the more sensitive he was…well, to everything. The sound of the chairs screeching against the floor made him cringe, the bright LED lights made him want to cry and the feeling of his sweater against his skin was scratchy and uncomfortable. JJ sure as hell wasn’t hyped for his newly found powers if this is what the rest of his life is going to be like.

The blond sighed to himself as he shoved his stuff into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and heading towards the cafeteria once he left the class. He kept his head down, finding the small shuffles of his vans against the floor were helping him from cussing out every single student that bumped into him, making him honestly want to scream and stay six feet away from everyone. He tried to reassure himself that he was half way through the day, that he only had a couple of hours left and then he could preferably go hide in a hole somewhere for the rest of his life. Okay, that is a little dramatic but a dark hole sounded great to JJ right now.

But here’s the thing, JJ is a Maybank. He has the good ol’ Maybank luck, which means even when he feels shit, the universe is out to make his life worse. And the universe sent that in the form of Rafe Cameron and his loyal little minions, Topper Thornton and Kelce Smith. Midtown High’s own version of the Plastics, some may say.

By some, I mean JJ. But hey, don’t judge. He was forced into watch Mean Girls by one of his flings awhile back and he won’t lie, the movie slaps. But that is besides the point.

“Oi, Maybank!”

JJ inwardly groaned at the sound of Rafe’s voice. He would much rather hear nails on a chalkboard than whatever Rafe had to say. JJ wouldn’t consider them bullies, they were simply the top tier of the uptown kids who had some sort of superiority complex. And JJ had no issue on challenging them, it was far too easy to wind up a bunch of rich kids who weren’t used to being called out on their bullshit. And it just stuck. They would say something stupid to try and provoke him, and most of the time JJ’s words were enough for them to leave him alone. He had the satisfaction of punching Rafe in the face a few times, but usually Pope and John B were quick to hold him back. After all, it would backfire on JJ if he got into trouble with an uptown kid.

“What do you want?” JJ huffed out, glancing up at the trio. The sight of the three of them almost brought a smile to his lips. Uptown kids and their need to follow trends, they wore the same outfit in different variations and it honestly made JJ want to laugh. The classic preppy look with their pastel sweaters and tennis shoes, it made JJ want to gag. But he contained his vomit as Rafe spoke up.

“Aw, c’mon, Maybank. That all you got today? A bit pathetic.” Rafe snickered, the other two laughing along with their leader. JJ rolled his eyes. The funniest thing about them was their outfits.

“As much as I’d love to talk to you little pastel powerpuff girls, I have much better things to do in my life,” JJ said with a sarcastic smile on his lips as he side-stepped the trio, attempting to make his way past them. He really didn’t have the patience to deal with them today. He had happily planned to steal food from Pope and take a nap for the hour. But the second he felt Rafe’s hand on his shoulder, he knew that wasn’t going to be happening.

“Watch your mouth, Maybank.” Rafe spat, his hand tightening on JJ’s shoulder. The act made him want to cringe away and rip off his skin. The feeling of his hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing that little bit of skin near the neckline of his sweater, it made JJ want to gag. It felt horrible. He wanted that feeling gone.

“Piss off, Cameron.” He scoffed, harshly jerking his shoulder so Rafe’s hand would lose its grip but it only tightened. In an act of desperation, JJ did the only thing that seemed reasonable. He shoved Rafe away. Now normally, it would be enough to have Rafe stumble a few steps so JJ can make a quick exit. But JJ just so happened to have forgotten that this wasn’t like every other normal time. He wasn’t normal anymore. So, his shove was much more than a wee push, it was more like completely winding Rafe. JJ couldn’t help but cringe when he heard the sound of Rafe’s body colliding with the lockers before he slumped to the ground, a dent now evident in the lockers from the collision. Topper and Kelce looked at JJ with mixed looks of confusion and fear before rushing to their friend’s aid.

“Oh my god, Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped to the end of the hallway where he could see Sarah Cameron, but she wasn’t alone. Beside her was the curly haired girl from the trip. His eyes widened a little when his gaze met hers, but he was only met with a glare from the mysterious beauty.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed at JJ as the two girls got closer, now seeing the full effect of what JJ had done. JJ gulped a little, his fingers tapping the side of his legs as he tried to think this through. What could he say, ‘oh sorry, kinda lost control of my new powers, I’ll be a little more careful next time’. Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.

“He started it!” JJ blurted out, only to mentally smack himself at how childish he sounded. “I barely touched him, he was being dramatic!” He added but the looks of uncertainty didn’t reassure him that they bought it. He was in the lion’s den here, a downtown kid surrounded by the privileged. He was never going to win. So, he did the only sane thing any downtown kid would do. He got out of there as quick as he could.

“He could be concussed!” Sarah Cameron spoke up for the first time, a frown on her face as she met JJ’s gaze. He could almost feel the judgement oozing from her.

“Maybe he will finally have some brain cells knocked into him!” And with that, JJ ran out of that hallway and didn’t stop running until he was far away from the school.

**********

“I’m sorry what?”

Following the fiasco on Monday, JJ’s week hadn’t been much better. Most of it was spent avoiding the uptown crew whilst simultaneously keeping a low profile, which is very hard for someone like JJ. He was used to being the class clown, milking any attention he got. Now he felt like he was under house arrest or something, trapped to keep to himself and work out what the hell was happening to him. But true to their commitment of being his best friends, John B and Pope were right there beside him. It had been a long and stressful week but they made it through. It was a little exhausting on them but they had each other to lean on. JJ was just glad he wasn’t alone.

But now, sat in Pope’s bedroom on the Saturday night, looking between the two boys with a very concerned look, JJ wasn’t sure his weekend was going to be any more relaxing. He knew the three of them combined weren’t the best combinations. They probably shared a brain cell between them and even then, it mostly resided with Pope and his weird, random facts. They had come up with some really strange, out-there ideas before—like the time they tried to give John B a perm with household products or when they convinced themselves they could do a road trip in John B’s crappy van. But this was the icing on the cake. This was enough for JJ to confirm that his friends had completely lost their mind.

“Think about it!” John B continued, practically rolling on the balls of his feet in excitement. JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt him. To be honest, JJ wasn’t even sure where to start with how bad of an idea this was. “You have these super cool powers that are totally useless to everyday life, so why not put them to use? You could be like—the next Batman or something!”

“Batman was a rich dude who made gadgets. He doesn’t even have any powers. How the hell would I be like Batman?”

“Okay, bad example,” Pope piped up. “But just think about it. You could make a difference, be a hero!”

“A really badass superhero!” John B added.

JJ looked at them with a frown on his face. This now just seemed like a deranged joke. He was waiting for them to laugh, to say it was just a silly joke and move on with their usual weekend plans. But they didn’t. They continued.

“I mean, we could be a team! The three of us! You’ll go out and do all the crime fighting, Pope can make crazy gadgets and do all the…tech stuff and I can be your guy in the chair, you know?”

“My guy in the chair?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy in the headset…surrounded by screens…telling you where to go when you need extra help and stuff.”

“What?”

“Like Pope would set it up, but I would be the mastermind behind it! Like you’re stuck in a building and can’t find a way out, I would help you find a route. Your guy in the chair!”

JJ only shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples to try and not completely lose his temper.

“And like every superhero ever, you’ll need a suit. So, I went looking through some stuff and I found my mum’s sewing machine,” Pope fumbled around in his pocket before he pulled out a small bunch of red fabric. He threw it to JJ, which he easily caught. JJ then realised it was like a ski mask, with two small holes for his eyes. “It’s not much but we can work on it, keep your identity secret and everything.”

“Oh, and you’ll need a badass name! I was thinking like Night Monkey, or—“

“—Spiderling!” Pope interrupted with a grin, clearly proud of it. But JJ had enough.

“Can the both of you just shut up!” He snapped, both boys instantly quieting down, looking at JJ with concerned looks. “Okay, are you out of your mind? Me? A superhero? Hate to fucking break it to you but I am not the superhero type guy, alright? I’m not your friendly neighbourhood nice guy helping old ladies cross the street or getting cats out of the tree! I could give zero fucks about the law cause all its there for is rich idiots to manipulate and use to ruin lives of people like us!” JJ cried out to them, letting go of any hope he had on trying to keep his cool.

“People like us don’t become heroes, alright? We are usually the ones that get locked up. And knowing my luck, I will be thrown straight into some loony house, in a straitjacket because of these powers! You guys have to be absolute fools if you think any of this would work.” JJ huffed as he stood up, shoving the mask into his pocket before making his way to the door. “I don’t care about other people, alright? I care about you guys, my mum and most importantly, myself. Why the hell should I risk my life for a world that won’t appreciate it anyways.” Both boys stood there stunned, looking at JJ with wide eyes and parted lips.

“JJ—“

“No, okay? Superheroes are meant for comic books and movies, not real life, alright? Grow up.” And with that, JJ slammed the door as he left the apartment.

JJ scoffed, muttering to himself as he walked through the dark streets of New York, deciding to take the longer route back home. He needed the time to clear his head, grasp his thoughts. He didn’t know what the boys were thinking, he was definitely not fit to be a hero. Were they out of their minds? Give a guy some abnormal powers and suddenly he should be putting on a cape and preaching morals. That wasn’t JJ, that would never be JJ. He was selfish, arrogant at times and beyond prideful. But he was aware. He knew what he was and he knew he didn’t have what it took to be a hero. Pope and John B needed to stop being ignorant and see that.

He rolled his eyes at the thought and continued his way back to his building complex, hands shoved in his pockets with his right-hand clenching around the fabric of the mask. Small puffs escaped his lips as JJ started regretting taking the long way home. It was October and winter was promising to come early, JJ could tell that much by the stinging cold against his cheeks. The cold was just the cherry on top of his bitter mood.

Yet, as JJ continued to make his way home, he could hear the sound of people talking, causing a frown to form on his face. JJ had walked this way many times, especially during the night, and the chance of passing someone down these streets were fairly rare. Maybe the odd one here or there, but a group of people? Definitely not common.

At first, he ignored it. He had gotten used to the heightened senses over the week, being able to hear things from a distance even when he didn’t try. For all he knew, he could be hearing the muttering of some people a few blocks over. So, he ignored it and carried on walking. But then it started getting louder and clearer. JJ felt his whole body go on alert, the hair on his arm standing up, like his body knew something was off. He could feel it in his gut, a horrible realisation that this wasn’t going to be his usual walk home.

It wasn’t until when JJ turned the corner that he realised just what he had walked into. There stood around five men, all wearing masks that covered the lower half of their faces. They were dressed in all black, probably to draw less attention to themselves, but JJ could see the glint of guns in the light of the lampposts shining down on the street. They stood outside a building, three of them seeming to try and block the view of the other two. It was then when JJ’s brain actually caught up with what he was seeing and realised what the building was. A bank. These guys were trying to rob a bank.

Well shit.

The way JJ saw it, he had two options here. He could turn around, pretend he didn’t see anything and let them get on with what they were doing. Chances were they would either get caught by the police or he would see that the bank had been successfully robbed tomorrow morning on the news. Or JJ could do something about it. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, only to see that it was dead. Of course, it was the good ol’ Maybank luck. He shoved it back into his pocket and looked towards the five men.

Then an idea popped into his head. A stupid, insane idea that was nothing short of self-deprecating and downright dumb. It was short of one of the worst ideas he had ever had. JJ had done a lot of weird stuff in his life but this definitely tops it all. And the worst part was that he was going through with it, because as much as he hated it, it was his only choice right now.

“I’m gonna regret this.” JJ huffed to himself as he snatched the mask out of his pocket and pulled it down over his face, adjusting it so he could see through the small holes Pope had made. He let out a breath, shaking his shoulders a little as he tried to pump himself up, get his adrenaline going.

“You got this, it’s not like they have guns or anything,” JJ muttered to himself as he placed his hands on the wall of the building across from the bank, the one he was currently hiding around so the bank robbers wouldn’t see him, before he began to scale the building. I mean, who would expect the enemy coming from above, right?

He stopped around half way up the building, thanks to the heightened senses he was able to still see the criminals clearly. He watched them closely, seeing only the three men that were on lookout where the one with guns. “Oh, let’s hope this works.” He whispered to himself before extending his arm out.

“What the fuck!” One of them called out as his gun was snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye, his two friends following a similar reaction. JJ wasn’t even thinking about where he was throwing the guns, just as long as they were nowhere near these dudes when he confronted them.

He watched them freak out, yelling at each other as they looked around for the culprit to their missing guns. He heard the half-ass threats they used and tried not to snort before he shot a web to one of the lampposts nearby and swung down, landing gracefully at the top of the lamppost.

“Guys, I hate to break it to you but someone lied, bank doesn’t open until tomorrow morning.” JJ called out to them, giving a small shrug. All five heads snapped up to look at him, and the glares he was receiving was enough to tell him that these guys weren’t big jokesters.

“Piss off, kid, this is none of your business.” One of them replied in a blunt, scruffy voice. It honestly made JJ cringe a little.

“You see,” JJ sighed. “I’ve made it my business so…” He trailed off before snapping his wrist, a web shooting out to stick to the head of the closest criminal and with a firm tug, his head hit the pole before he slumped to the ground.

One of the men growled at JJ, clearly not happy about some weird kid interrupting their wee heist. “You had your warning, kid. Come down and play with the adults.” He taunted before JJ noticed the glimmer of something in the light. A knife. Of-fucking-course the gun wasn’t the only weapon they had on them.

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” He commented, shooting a web to wrap around the criminal’s wrist, prepared to pull it out of his grasp, only for the robber to tug the web instead, sending JJ flying off the lamppost and falling on his ass to the ground. “Fuck!” He hissed as he quickly jumped to his feet.

“Life is unfair,” The criminal muttered before reaching to punch JJ but he easily dodged it. The speed and agility with which he moved with clearly distracting the criminal long enough for JJ to kick him hard enough that sent him stumbling back into the wall. JJ barely had time to process it before he snapped his hand to the left, stopping a fist that was inches away from his face.

“Nice try, asshole.” He huffed before twisting the criminal’s arm before sending a swift punch to his jaw. There was a satisfying pop sound that told JJ he would be preoccupied for at least a couple of minutes.

He then noticed two of the criminals trying to corner him, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little under the mask at just how cliché it seemed. In seconds, JJ has webs shooting out each wrist, attaching to the chests of each men, before yanking the two towards each other. Groans echoed through the empty street as both men collided with each other.

JJ’s head snapped to the side when he heard an angry battle call as he saw the man with the now dislocated jaw running towards him. JJ crouched down a little before he began running towards the criminal, his arms hooking around his knees. He kept running forwards until JJ felt glass smash around him and the two of them fell through. He quickly got up, wincing at the window he had just broken before turning to the criminal and giving him a good smack in the face—he definitely wasn’t holding back with his strength on that one.

JJ began to work fast, not knowing how long each of the criminals would stay dazed and unconscious for. In no time, he had them piled together, a healthy amount of web fluid keeping them tied together. They wouldn’t be going anywhere—at least for twenty minutes. But it was just JJ’s luck that he didn’t have to worry about that time limit because not even seconds after he finished, he heard the sirens and saw the blue lights flashing down the streets.

Police cars began to surround the bank, creating a semi-circle to prevent any possible escape. Officers began to exit their vehicles, guns set and loaded and now aimed towards JJ. “This is NYPD, keep your hands where we can see them!” One officer called out.

“Shit,” JJ muttered to himself as he raised his hands in the air, watching as officers slowly approached the crime scene.

He watched as a look of confusion washed over their faces as they took in the scene: the smashed window, the five tied up men, the weird silky rope that was binding them together and of course, JJ in his crappy mask.

He watched as they evaluated the situation. Watched as they tried to piece it all together before one officer—the badge telling JJ her name was Captain Peterkin—stopped in front of JJ with raised eyebrows. “Did you do this?”

“Sure did, ma’am.”

“Why?” Another officer perked up, JJ could see his badge said Officer Shoupe.

“They were robbing a bank, what did you want me to do? Sit around making daisy chains until you showed up?” JJ immediately defended, glaring as best as he could with the mask on his face.

Peterkin smiled a little before she cleared her throat, JJ’s attention shifting to her. “Then I guess we owe you a great deal of thanks for your work.”

“All in a day’s work, can I leave now? I’m sure the security cameras will give you all the answers you need.” JJ stated as he already began to take a few steps away from the crime scene, walking backwards.

“Can we at least know your name?” Peterkin asked.

JJ looked down at his wrists before he snapped them up, watching as the web attached to nearby building. He looked at Peterkin and couldn’t help grin under his mask as he answered her question before tugging on the web and swinging away into the night.

“Call me Spider-Man.”

Taglist: @alphinias @popcornhook @loveyatopluto @teamnick @peanutbelley @iccyyyybitch @jiara-maybank @donkey-is-my-spirit-animal @carissarose16 @unspokenfaith @largedenominationsplease @jiaaras @homebody-nobody @smileymikey @hvitstark @shaymq7 @hmspogue @falseungodlyhours @aarchiess @rcsales @raeoffuckingsunshine @jjskiaras @parker-holland-osterfield @thesadprose

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #outer banks fanfiction #jiara fanfiction #obx fic #my fic #spiderman au #marvel #tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

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smndragon · 3 years

Note

🌷CH

ISNT THAT KINDA CUTE

Yes yes

6-7-9-10-11-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20

Things: "tell me you like me too." This feels more demanding and toxic I feel, someone grabbing your arm or hand. I feel one of your admirers likes to hold your hand or wants to and has shorter nails which they bite a lot from habit and nervousness. I see possibly Herman, Hungarian, Argentinian, somewhere in south America or South Africa. Possibly may be from the UK or you will meet a new admirer who is coming there or wherever you are as a transfer student. Could be younger than you. I hear the word seething for some reason, possible anxieties and jealousy which stems from both sides. You're struggling with something personal currently. Though this conflict is on display at times it involves a deep connection I feel, deeper than both parties believe or know. I can't tell you what to do here, but you should do what's best. Cry if you want to, I was just listening to it's my party and that came up. There's a lot on your plate right now, remember it's okay to set some of those items down onto your table and give yourself room to prepare and make plans. I feel you've been a bit under prepared for some things and may be short staffed if you work somewhere which could be the trouble of your stress also. You don't have to handle it all yourself, you may have realized this and are getting help currently which is good. Something I heard came to mind randomly, "good rain knows when to fall" take this as you may I feel it could be that things will come when they do and you must yourself be prepared and thankful for it. This became more of something else other than your admirers and crushes so I apologize. I feel some could wear glasses, paint their nails bright or dark colors. One may be a bit plus sized or chubby and is insecure about it or confident. They show off their body I feel, knowing that they're beautiful. True love's kiss came to mind. Some of these people have waited for things that are falling through their hands. Blue stars came to mind. Blue sneakers or shoes. Green energy's are here also. "You're much more than you think you are" clenching hands on a bed or sofa sitting down. Someone needs to hear this, has, or has told you. Marksmen came to mind. I see cellular light on a few to majority. Dancing with the stars, junior, kicks, pumps, jockey. Some may be very dirty minded and will express this with you lol or hide it silently thinking of jokes to themselves. Bakugou stickers, ginger drinks, you may have attended an event with one of them recently. Others could be hiding gay feelings for you. Or are going against their code growing up liking you and struggle deciding things. Indecisive. Queer. "You've got brains" idk what this means may be a group project or smth you worked on with one. "You've gotta give me something here." Throwing hands out. Major change will come to your life soon involving some or family issues. Listen to poets of generations for answers. What's with this cryptic shit lol. There's a need to thank some of your patrons and guides if you believe in them. They have gotten you far and are showing you adversity to give you strength and achievement in planning and structure or construction of things. Hard work is your gift in this case, and it may seem hard but it will be worthit if you see it through. Brown hair, green eyes, I see a lot of green, blue, yellow shapes and stuff. One of your admirers may have a disability of some kind mentally or physically. I see hair covering the eyebrows or they may be very faint. Chipped tooth or nails. Possible gap or gaps too. They may like to joke with you or say hi randomly and possibly may make you cringe or feel awkward but they really like you lol they don't know how to approach much. There's still a lot of insecurity here. Look for red flags, painted colors, shagged clothing, hair, or looks. Green, turquoise, blue, orange, red, bronze, copper, and dragons in general.

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yeoldontknow · 5 years

Text

Light Sakura

Author’s Note: welcome back to chanvember 2019! this is a much heavier offering. when i was in japan in april, i wrote some of my thoughts and feelings into notes. there werent many, but i decided to turn them into this beast a fic. this is a very personal story - personal and heavy, and is probably me at my most raw and honest. more than anything, this is me letting you in to watch me process life. i hope you can still appreciate it <3 Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: romance; angst; travel!au; fluff; light smut Summary: While taking your honeymoon in Tokyo, alone, you meet Chanyeol, a man who reminds you of the person you remember being long before you learned to forget yourself. After spending one full day together, you question if you could walk away from him - especially when it feels like walking away from yourself, again. Rating: R Warnings: some intense, adult angst; the most beautiful chanyeol ive ever written; and an explicit makeout session Word Count: 15K

Barely half nine in the morning and already the cherry blossom trees of the Shinjuku National Gardens have decided to whelm you.

Overhead, they sway in the breeze, elegant in their movements and peaceful in the way they seem to exist for no one and everyone, but most of all, themselves. You relate to them, in only this half-formed similarity, alone on the linen blanket you’ve spread across a soft patch of grass.

The blush pink of the petals puts the flavor of hope, faith, and healing on your tongue - you’re unsure if this is what they truly mean, if this is the ascribed symbolism to pretty, delicate things, but it feels like they matter. You feel strongly and passionately they mean something beyond the aesthetic of paradise, filtered and filtered again through Instagram as proof of experience.

To you, they are the herald of change, the transience of perfection contained neatly in the blossom, fading almost as soon as they appear. Always, they depart swiftly, detached and long missed yet remaining somewhere just beyond reach, a memory of perfect bliss; the wonder, and the healing, and the euphoria of existence, and the grief and melancholy of the inherent loss.

From the corner of your eye, you see it, a large mass of struggle and frustration. Intrigued, you look over to find a man, tall and gangly, battling with himself and the blossoms and the sun to take a selfie. On this cloudless day in April, the sun seems to find his eyes from every angle, even this early in the morning. Blinded yet, somehow, ignited, he becomes at once a man both at peace and at war with nature, challenged by the haze of morning to outshine the blossoms. Even under the sakura tree, the sun seeks his shapes, gives him a glow that speaks of reverence and admiration.

It’s entertaining to witness, though only serves to remind you that there is no one with you to laugh or to watch, to share in the delight of such a vision, and so you look away, having already seen enough for yourself.

Glancing down to your blanket, you see the array of items spread before you, gaze drifting to the sakura mochi. Your lips fall to a grimace, the humor of the morning dissipating on sight. Nothing about the confection tastes right, or truly like a confection at all. One bite, and all you could think was that some things are meant to be witnessed and admired, never consumed, their delicate lightness bitter on the tongue but sweet to the iris.

Lured by motion in the distance, you look up once more and find he is still there, spinning in circles beneath the trees. The longer you watch, the more you find he is somewhat familiar in his unfamiliarity, the strangeness of not knowing his name or personality or history its own sort of comfortable adventure, the thrill of it settling over your nerves in a way you had long abandoned. The sight of him overtakes you the same way he is overtaken by the sun, almost immediately and without escape. Though, for you, you know you are overtaken by the nostalgia of an imperfect youth and the mistakes that come from letting the wrong person in - not dangerous, not lethal, but deadly just the same and always just as reckless.

And so you don't know why you speak, why you even rise to a stand, allow yourself to disturb the peaceful solitude of your morning, wanting, rather suddenly, to ease his struggle. Even more, you don’t know what exactly it is about him that makes you reach out, giving yourself yourself away and over to the feeling of longed for and missed connections.

'Do you want help with that picture?'

A small noise of surprise leaves his chest as he turns to face you, seeking your voice with his lips set in a full pout. At once and against your better judgement, you swoon, transfixed by how arresting he truly is. Arresting, a word you’ve never really used for people or even art made after 1945, the term reserved for pain and poetry, but he becomes it, embodies it, in every sense of the meaning.

His smile take it time as his gaze walks over your features, taking you in, beguiled and amused and delighted for the help - relieved too, a grateful smile falling on his lips as though he'd been waiting for you, relaxing at once into the comfort of not knowing you at all. It strikes you how easy it is to connect when you aren’t really trying to, when you aren’t thinking or overthinking, and people can just be themselves.

The warmth in his smile remains, even as he speaks, the genuine contentment of it infectious. 'Do you mind?'

Taking a few cautious steps towards you, he runs a hand through his hair, anxious.

'Happy to.' You close the gap between you both, extending your hand, palm upwards, for his phone. 'It's funny, I thought this would have been easy given how long your arms are.'

The joy of his smile spills into his laugh as he hands you his phone, the sound boisterous and altogether too loud for the quiet stoicism of Japan, his unbridled energy turning the colours of the gardens into something far more rich than the human eye could bear.

'Sorry,’ you giggle, carried by the sound of his pleasure. ‘I don't mean that as an insult.' It’s amusing, you think, how awkward this exchange is. How terribly exciting it truly is to not be comfortable. ‘You just don’t realize how hard good selfies are until you’re short, like I am.’

'Well,' he concedes, 'the limbs are helpful for group photos but when you're perpetually under the sun and in the way and having to duck, it's just as difficult.'

Far more lightly than you would have imagined for someone of his size, he settles on the edge of the wooden bridge, the water of the pond glistening behind him, gleaming much like the cityscape in the distance. At once, he is radiant, another word you’d never used for a person until you saw him, the tips of his ears catching the light, the sunbeams finding him in a way they don’t seem to find other people. Or, perhaps, they don’t find him at all, and simply are born of him entirely, emerging from his core and lifted into the atmosphere.

A warm breeze moves through the air, rustling your hair, and he leans into it, almost imperceptibly. Eyes closed and expression soft, he lifts his head towards the sky and smiles, blissful in his quiet contentedness.

An image such as this, you think, is poetic, the kind of portrait that resonates throughout the city long after the person has left, adding weight to their photo collection and adding weight to all of those who witnessed its capture. But your finger hesitates, the slowness of your muscles taking its time to luxuriate in his expression. His delight, his happiness, his easy way of coming alive as though it were natural, and as though you could learn to do it, too.

And so you are slow, paused in your admiration long enough for it to dissipate altogether, his mercurial personality shifting his pose almost immediately into one of casual nonchalance.

'Let me know when you're ready,' he says, regarding you with a calm, yet detached smile.

'Okay.' You're unsure when you became so breathless, when the air left you and went in search of somewhere, or someone, else, but you're unsure it matters. Moments like this, of intense feeling and abrupt emotion, you know, usually do not last. 'Three. Two. One.'

The moment you press capture to take the picture, his expression changes. Eyes going cross-eyed, he sticks out his tongue and wrinkles his nose, making a mess of the scenery, and the image, altogether. And all at once, you laugh, overcome and overtaken by the shock. The abrupt force of it makes you sputter, your breath lurching forward in a cough as he rises to a stand, pleased with himself.

'How did it come out?' Pride drenches his words, smile wide and large and eyes glistening in victory, as you realize he meant it - he meant every detail of it.

Catching your breath, you study the picture, the absurdity of it, and turn it around to show him. 'You don't want me to delete this?'

He shakes his head, reaching for the phone and regarding the photo with a smirk. 'Absolutely not.'

‘Who is this picture for?' you question, confident a photo like that has a home, a purpose, a place. It’s not pretty, the expression and the energy tarnishing any hope of it living on social media.

'Just me,' he clarifies with a small shrug. 'But does it have to be for anyone?'

You fall silent, mind empty by the simplicity of this statement and mesmerized by his lightness of being. A talent, you are aware, you simply do not share. 'No,' you agree, voice soft, 'I suppose not.'

'Do you want me to take one of you?' he offers, pocketing his phone and cocking his head to the side.

In truth, you hadn’t considered it - hadn’t considered any part of this morning, likely would have come and gone with only pictures of the trees and none of you, your essence moving through the city without leaving a trace. It would be nice, you think. Something for your mother or, as he said, something for no one at all - something to remember yourself by.

'Do you mind?'

He nods, enthusiastically, offering his palm with eager fingers. 'It's the least I could do.'

Sitting on the bridge railing in the same place, the breeze moves through your hair once more, and you understand why he eased into the feel of it, almost tender in its smooth traverse between the strands. Sweetness lingers in the air, the smell of blossoms and food and a distinct characteristic, definitive to Tokyo, that you will never quite place. Hands gripping the wood, your mind wanders, seeming to forget there’s a purpose to your position here, a purpose for this crowd and a reason the petals move through the air, lifted much the same way the wind gives flight to wings.

Would you have wanted to share this moment, you think, with someone else, or share it at all? Are you truly sharing this moment, with the people around you and the man preparing to take your photo? Would another person have made it better - would he have made it better? Could it really have been more joyful than this?

Mostly, you think you would have been pressured, too aware of everything, especially he needs of another person. Aware, most distressingly, of the crippling necessity for plans and the way you are forever bound to the beginning and the end of an existence, all actions reduced from their experience to little more than a point A and a point B, with little room for the journey in between.

As if on cue, your new found partner coughs, approaching you with a placid expression.

'Sorry,’ he mumbles apologetically. ‘You're getting a facetime call.'

Gently, almost reproachfully, he hands you the phone and you look at the name, the iridescent letters making your stomach sink. Guilt overtakes you, mind racing even though it feels so impossibly empty, each glimmer of the name and the sad, almost solemn image of your face running your tongue dry. Briefly, you are reminded of the sakura mochi, and the way beautiful things so easily sour.

The shadow of your new, strange friend lingers, his own body taking on a sway that distracts you enough to decline the call with a tap of your finger.

'It's okay,' you say, handing your phone back to him with a smile you know is partially vacant. 'I can call him back.'

He simply nods, expression neutral, both somehow aware that you will not.

With only a few long strides, he returns to his original position just as swiftly as he returns to his original mood, jovial and easygoing all over again. 'Tell me when you're ready.'

'Ready,’ you announce, unsure if you’ve ever really meant it.

Loud with enthusiasm, he counts down the same way as you had, but you find you don’t carry the same playfulness to be as creative or amusing as he was. He was mesmerizing, and you are entirely uncertain how to attain that same radiant sense of optimism he seems to exude even beyond the frame of his picture. Instead, you simply look at him, trapped in a state of wonder and loss, a limbo that feels worthy of being captured.

It is not, you think, that this is a moment you’d like to return to, merely that you think you’d like to see how it looks. More than anything, you want to know how to capture and hold and maintain the fleeting experience of growth. Down to the depths of your marrow, you simply want to give permanence to the in between, your desire for control a habit you could never quite shake, regardless of how often you try.

Humming, he approaches you with your phone in hand, pleased with himself, though the corners of his mouth are downturned in pensive consideration.

'Who is this picture for?' he muses, parroting your earlier question and handing you the phone.

You meet his gaze for a single moment, mystified by the way his thoughts run wild in his irises, before looking down at the image. The person in the photo is you - she looks like you and wears your clothes, but you are aware that you are entirely absent from the image. Instead, you have been replaced with someone unfamiliar - neither hopeful nor resentful, she simply appears lost. Not lonely, not lacking, just learning, having neither retreated inward nor retreated at all, here and nowhere and delighted by the confusion of it.

'No one,' you say, proud with your success. This is not a beautiful picture, and you are glad for it, the ability to witness the discomfort of evolution. 'Everyone.'

Looking up at him once more, you finally offer him a smile you believe in, a smile you know is genuine.

'Does it matter?'

He shakes his head, returning your expression with childlike wonder. 'No, I suppose it doesn't.'

For a few, intangible moments, you remain like this, both regarding one another, a little unsure how to feel or what to say or what to even make of one another, smiling because it feels right and it feels good. He leans forward, inches closer as though pulled by a magnet, and the motion draws your attention to the queue that has started to form behind him. Each passing moment, more people arrive to the gardens, people wanting to view the blossoms and wanting the same photo as you, patient and yet hardly patient at all giving the bounce in their knees.

'Do you want to have breakfast with me?' You’re entirely unsure where the question comes from, and find yourself pointing in the direction of your blanket, the food and the bags still exactly where you left them.

You are unsure where the question came from but you are not upset that you asked, not even appalled. At this moment, the only thing you can truly fathom is that you want to remain in his company if only because it is spontaneous.

He glances to where you pointed, narrowing his eyes. 'Are you sure? I don't want to impose.'

'Do you have somewhere else to be?’ you press, allowing him a way out should he be too polite to take one for himself. ‘Plans?' The word feels heavy in your mouth, weight and severity of it unsuited for him entirety.

'Not really,’ he grins. ‘I'm just exploring today.'

You return his smile, glad that he gets it even if he does not. 'Me, too.'

'In that case, yeah, I'd love to join you.'

Together, you make your way to the blanket, his stride slightly unnatural as he adjusts to your pace. The kindness of it fills your chest with a heat long absent in your connections with others, and you welcome it, delighted for its return.

'I'm Chanyeol,’ he says, angling himself on the blanket so his shoes remain on the grass. He extends his hand towards you once more, friendly and personable.

'Y/N.'

The press of his palm into yours warms your nerves, a thrill of newness gliding up your arm and into the nodes of your lungs. Swallowing thickly, you maintain your smile, wondering if he can see that his presence threatens to send you floating, a too much too soon rush of blood to the head. His gaze remains on yours too long, the same way his hand remains twined with yours too long, and when he remembers himself, separating you, it does not escape your attention that he presses the flat of his hand to the blanket, knuckles tense.

It’s the same for you, the memory of his touch lingering long after he has left you, skin tingling and feeling tattooed.

Blinking, you avert your gaze and nudge the wooden box of sakura mochi towards him, gesturing for him to try it.

'Oh you got one of these?’ he begins, slowly, tentatively. ‘They're...'

'Awful?' you offer, hoping he agrees.

'Yeah,' he laughs. ‘It’s really surprisingly terrible. I didn’t want to say in case you love it.’

Your laugh joins his, the sound new and refreshing - yours in a way that it hasn’t been for a long time. You recognize the sound of it, the crystal ring and high echo a sound you made when you were nineteen and unafraid of the distant expanse of life. Back when you were fresh and bright and untarnished by the way a person can wake up and demand so much of you before the sunrise - demand parts that do not exist, and so you must create them, calling the shell of this action a compromise.

"I’ll give that up because you’re asking so nicely," you hear yourself say. "But be warned this is a slippery slope, and I don’t think you’re ready for the fallout."

He thinks you’re teasing. You know that you aren’t.

"One day," you hear yourself say, "I will give it all up for you and there will be nothing left of me for you to take."

Hours later, the linen blanket folded neatly into his backpack, Chanyeol joins you on the trip to teamLab Borderless. Because, you have two tickets and it would be a shame to waste them, a thing you said as a method of reasoning, a means to rationalize the fact that you felt good about asking him. Because, he had attempted to buy tickets and found he was too late, the day already sold out and the next available date after his departure. And you smiled, glad for his company and for the ability to make irrational choices, the magic of both these things making the tips of your fingers tingle with adrenaline.

And he smiled, you like to think, because he was glad to be with you, with someone, glad that you wanted him, continuing a conversation that never seemed to stop.

The art museum swallows you, takes you in and refuses to release your bones, turning you to carrion flowers. The dark shadows and blurred edges entrap you in a state of awe. At every corner, the impenetrable blackness looms but it is not foreboding, the contrast giving way to smears and arrays of colour so unlike the usual refractions your eyes choose to witness.

Even covered by this darkness, still, Chanyeol finds a way to glow. Through almost every room, the colours adorn his skin, craving contact with one they recognize as their own. Or, perhaps, it is you, learning to crave all over again and shedding the weight of responsibility, of choice over carnal desire, mind over matter, and the physicality of your wanting suddenly made manifest for all to see, staining him with the residue in the process.

He seems at peace in the falsehood of this magic, touching walls and touching lights with long fingers and delicate caresses. Standing behind him just enough to give him space, privacy, you watch as a light show animals, flowers blooming from their backs as they walk, passes along the wall. For a moment, you are transfixed, wondering where the lights are, how someone as tall as him doesn’t interrupt or break the lines of their imagined flesh, until he reaches one arm up and runs his fingers down the wall.

Slowly, gently, sweetly, he caresses these false animals, long fingers offering a gentle touch to the wall, and you step forwarding, moved by his bravery. Peering at his profile, you regard his serene smile and half-formed dimple at the corner of his cheek, softening for him as the seconds pass. Mirroring his actions, you do the same, running your hand down the wall and feeling the fabric, stroking the necks and limbs and arms of animals, the press of your fingers sending flower petals cascading to the floor, gathering, and not gathering at all, at your feet.

Chanyeol smiles at you, pleased with the entropy you have introduced, and walks down the hall with his hand still at the wall, touching and touching all he is allowed with the same tenderness he would provide a lover. It seems, to you, that he will never truly have his fill of the sensation of feeling, the smile he wears too satisfied with himself to really pull away, only doing so when the wall ends and he absolutely must. Standing in front of a new room, his hands clench into fists, wanting to touch but refraining from smearing his prints on the glass.

He leads you further into the museum, into a room full of lights and lights and lights, strung from the ceiling and glimmering not unlike diamonds. It takes you a moment to realize the lights are just that, and not refined quartz, natural pieces of the earth uprooted to display their shine. Chanyeol weaves away from you, looking at you over his shoulder with a playful, tempestuous grin, and you struggle to keep up with him, his long limbs carrying him away faster than you can move through the crowd.

Alone in an open expanse of light, you turn and turn, spinning in circles looking for him, rationalizing this sudden separation and wondering if abandonment always feels so abrupt; if you, and your over eager feet, did this to him, pushing beyond your limits out of righteous indignation. Was it always going to be this way? Would you always find yourself in solitude, just when things started to feel good?

From the distance, you hear Chanyeol’s voice and the noise of delight he releases, a sound that says he found what he’s looking for. You almost see his shadow, the length of him mirrored and rendered into an iridescent form behind the lights, a luminous mirage in an oasis of illusions.

‘Y/N,’ he calls, voice rippling through the room with some restraint, his efforts of being polite likely going unnoticed. ‘Watch this.’

At once, the lights change from soft hues of green and pink and purple to white, pure and endless white, the room igniting in a flash before turning blue and blue and blue, the sound of rain consuming the room. All at once and all over again, you feel weightless, as if the limits of nature and the limits of physics could no longer root you to the earth.

But then, you suppose, that is the point.

Limits don’t exist, likely never existed at all, your own mind creating the borders just to give structure and rules to things never meant to be thought through, only felt. Always felt and touched and bent by your hands and no one else's, and you find you thrive when there are no rules, just light and sound and art and Chanyeol; always Chanyeol, leading you into the light and ensuring you feel it.

The light hits you like a flood, shimmering in all the ways you wish you could. Your clothes and skin and hands become kindling for alchemy, granting you permission to glow, still differently than the holy way Chanyeol seems to smolder within the magic. On you, it attaches and pulls at you, breaking the boundaries of your flesh until you stand, palms up and regarding the ceiling, feeling a mist the sound of rain surely did not bring with it. But still, you are wet, wet with tears and relief and memory, emptying yourself of the things you keep buried within, letting them run free simply because Chanyeol gave you the aural, cosmic permission to do so.

He comes to stand before you as the lights turn to a shade of red, the glimmer making his dark hair appear auburn and putting a false flush at his cheeks. His very presence seems to change the atmosphere, molding the energy to fit and suit him, your own breath halting in your lungs, your blood, your heart, giving you pause to take him in, making room to fit him inside and never let him free.

‘Beautiful, wasn’t it?’ he asks, soft and thoughtful and the quietest he’s been all day. ‘That’s my favourite.’

You can only manage a slight nod, too vulnerable to give shape to words, fully aware the sound of your own voice would break you. Chanyeol steps closer, the lights behind and around you changing from red to purple, romantic in their shift, and the electric shock between you both looms, running down the light strings the same way it runs down your nerves.

‘Do you want to get some tea?’ he tries, keeping his tone even and soothing.

Once again, you nod, needing to be near him and needing to feel close, healed, and warmed by something other than the sight of his deep, affectionate eyes.

The pressure of your tea cup on the table causes flowers to bloom, a trick of light and science that makes it hard for you to speak for a long time. Your flowers are different from his, all pink and yellow and gold, where his swirl in deep shades of purple, the rich green of his leaves sprawling not unlike ivy, reaching, as best they can, towards your petals.

'This was meant to be my honeymoon,' you announce abruptly, keeping your eyes fixed on the foamy liquid and watching the petals bloom in your cup. Mentally, you compare them to the blossoms that line the street and the park, aware that these colours are too strong to be natural, but are equally as ephemeral.

Chanyeol doesn't say anything, just watches you patiently, expectant.

'I have two for everything,' you continue, running your finger over the petals and watching them bleed into your skin. 'It's cheaper to travel as two, in every sense. No one ever wants you to go alone, or go alone and feel good about it.'

'Why did it end?' As soon as he says it, he recoils, apologetic. 'I'm sorry if that's personal.'

Hissing through your teeth, you sigh. 'He didn't cheat on me, if that's what you're asking.'

'I don't really know what I should be asking,’ he counters, still so resolutely encouraging, ‘but I'm glad that's not true.'

'I wish he did,' you admit bitterly. 'It would have made sense. There would have been a reason.'

Chanyeol softens, hand coming to rest on the table, inching forward and back again. 'That's okay,' he reassures. 'Sometimes, things just don't work out.'

'He was perfect.’ You aren’t really sure why you say it, aware that you are announcing things you would share in a conversation with someone else. Perhaps that’s what this is, a conversation with no one, not even Chanyeol. 'Anyone would have loved him.'

Still, he smiles. 'But anyone doesn't have you be you.'

When you turn to face him, your expression feels cold, and you wait for him to reel back, shocked and pained, but he remains calm and patient. You love him, then, love him and hate him all at once.

'I could have.'

'So why didn't you?'

“Are we spending too much time together?” you asked, the sadness in your chest pulling at your lungs, tearing the nodes in the hopes of creating irreparable fissures.

“No?” he replied, also a question and sounding just as distressed as you.

You shook your head. “We are.” It was so obvious. Everything, to you, was so obvious. “We’re starting to sound like one another.”

It was such a silly thing to say, silly and cruel. You were so aware of it, of his crestfallen expression and the way you burdened him just by letting him know, by letting him see. Doubt painted his features, and you felt guilty for the thrill of watching him collapse.

“I just want to sound like me again.” This too, should have been obvious, but it crept up on you, slowly and when you absolutely didn’t want to look. “I don’t really don’t even understand my references, anymore.”

All you can do is look at him, look at him and smile in a way that feels hollow. But Chanyeol, for all his goodness and all his kindness, doesn’t seem to mind, he merely smiles back in a way that does not demand words. With him, there is no pressure, simply the understanding that not every question deserves or has ownership of an answer.

Chanyeol, for all his boyish charms, is the first to understand that, sometimes, questions just are and you cannot expect them to be solved.

Beside your glass teacup, your phone rings, silent and depicting the face of a person you’ve spent days trying to let down easily.

You decline the call.

The petals in your cup begin to fade.

Akihabara is his idea, silent suggestion tucked at the corner of his mouth, nestled behind his smile. A suggestion after a late lunch that leads you, seemingly aimlessly, to a train, an alley, and his outstretched hand, extended calmly and held in pause, waiting for you to take it and to not let go. It’s likely he does this to ensure you do not get lost in the throng of people, the tight crowd of commuters making their way home or simply making their way, shaking off the energy of a long shift - or, perhaps, still at work, likely in the last third of their work day, seeking a brief release in the form of distraction.

It’s likely he does this so that you do not get separated, but the tightness with which he holds you puts hope in your chest, a hope that he clings to you so desperately because the fear of separation runs deep and runs longer than either of you would like to admit. It’s nice to think this way, even if the sense of power it provides is fleeting.

But he offers you his hand, assumes that you will follow, assumes, beyond any measure of doubt, that you will be beside him, his mirror, and expects little else from you at all, undemanding of anything except your company.

At sunset, it's hard to fathom anything more golden - the river swallowing the sky and taking it whole, reflecting that which they consume like a jealous lover, proud and greedy. Chanyeol is all smiles and loud laughs, weaving through the people, the overwhelm, to show you everything - everything, yet conversely, nothing at all, at home with the chaos.

The city seems pregnant with potential, a gleam of untapped and just bloomed magic starting to unfurl within the lights, the rate of change a slow descent that eases you into another universe altogether - seen always without being seen until the totality of it is noticed all at once.

And when the sun disappears from view, the blue black of early night casting its protective shadow over the earth, Akihabara changes the sky. All at once, it is a metamorphosis of progress that eats the cosmos, transmutes the atoms and the clouds and the stars into fuel for its electric sheen. It's impossible to know where to look, if you should look anywhere at all apart from Chanyeol. The neon lighting of the signs puts shadows on his cheekbones, cuts his jaw into a rough shape that turns him from a boy into a man, his smile neither menacing nor tempting, simply alive and aware, a man in his element, brought to life by the electric current of energy.

It's a sensory overload, the city street and Chanyeol's protective, possessive grip. With his hand clasped tightly in yours, the light burrows beneath your skin, seeking the pores along your flesh and rooting itself down and down, into your inbetween. Every stroke of his thumb against your knuckles, every laugh, is an electric shock traversing your nerves and pushing you the edge of excitement.

You keep your eyes trained on the tips of his ears and the smooth line of his neck, his long legs always a few steps ahead of you - like he’s figured it out and like he’s lived this street hundreds and hundreds of times. Store signs pop on as you pass, and his ears catch the light, the tips taking on every shade of the rainbow, and your own heart struggling to memorize the person he becomes under each.

There’s something wild about this feeling, the admiration and the adoration of watching these asymmetrical pieces of him become beautiful and charming, that reminds you of craving, of the intensity of it, and, most of all, of the hunger that always seems to follow. It’s been years since you’ve wanted someone, wanted them beyond comfort and understanding, wanted someone and the mess of having to learn them all over again, aware that true intimacy follows and accumulates over time. But desire, desire always comes first, and it is always what makes you want to let a person in.

Chanyeol stops abruptly at a taiyaki vendor, eyes wide and full of fascination as he lingers by the window, watching the red bean paste rhythmically get dropped into dough molds. Still, he does not release your hand, only squeezes it twice, ensuring he has your attention, your touch, and your focus.

‘Have you ever had one of these?’ he asks, still watching the chefs and the mold press.

You hum. ‘Yeah, in New York there’s a place that makes them. Obviously, I’m sure these are better.’

He turns to you, wrapped in a state of pleasure and excitement, and everything about him is infectious. You smile at him, simply happy to be smiling with him, and he pulls you along, ordering one pastry in skilled Japanese. Blinking at him, you watch as he speaks with the cashier, wondering how you could have missed such a practiced accent or confident speech pattern, but quickly remember it was you with the tickets, you who spoke first, and even at lunch, you ordered separately, walking away from him to wait patiently at a table.

So much of him you’ve missed or glossed over, so much of the man he is rather than his heart escaping your attention, and when he holds his treat in his hand, you find it difficult to look away from him, watching him take a large, impressive bite.

Once again, a laugh erupts from your chest, and he pauses mid bite, regarding you with curious eyes.

‘Your mouth is so big,’ you clarify, and he smiles, proud and laughing with you as he continues to eat. ‘It’s just so impressive.’

Chanyeol closes his eyes happily as he eats, giggling in delight at your pleasure or the pastry, or maybe both, content with every detail of the moment. Smirking, he tilts the pastry towards you offering a bite, and the simple generosity of this action halts your breath in its path. This is intimate, should not be so intimate, especially when you are aware, so aware, of the true meaning of the word, but still it settles over you, like dust and the light and the acceptance that, again, you feel good about the risk you’ve taken.

Placing your lips where his have been, you wonder idly if the sweetness on your tongue is the dough, the sugar, or him, a residue left behind comprised of his laugh, his words, his soul filling your mouth and keeping it wet and wet, inspired to transform into someone else. Neither new nor different, just cleansed.

You chew slowly and he keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your reaction, and the intensity of his stare, the heat and the wonder sends you reeling.

You told him even though he said, clearly and repeatedly, that he didn’t want to know. He didn’t need to. Think of him what you will, he was smart, smarter than you ever gave him credit for, and he already knew. Saying it would just confirm his doubt, breaking him all over again in the most unnecessarily cruel way.

“I have something to tell you,” you announced, even though you both already knew.

“Not tonight.”

But you said it anyway, aware that every tomorrow hinged on his reaction, whether it would mean losing himself or losing you. You just wanted to know which he would choose, waiting to see which direction he’d take.

‘It’s sweet,’ you say, watching Chanyeol beam and nod and agree, delighted. ‘Sweeter than the one I had before.

He takes the pastry back and swallows the marks your teeth made whole, turning away to chew and watching as the cars pass along the street. Sugar lingers on the corner of his mouth as he eats, lips and cheeks sweet in a full pout as he savors the pastry, but you can’t really look away from. Tokyo is diverting and distracting, but you can’t fathom a better view.

'Hold on,' you laugh, his pause of confusion entirely too endearing for a man his age, however hold he is or is not. 'You have something on your...'

You might never know what compels you to reach up, your finger extended and your touch gentle, moving the sugar away with one slow, languid swipe. You decide it's another question that likely will never have an answer, because there is no answer, but just as quickly as you also decide it does not matter. Chanyeol's smile of gratitude is bewitching, the blue and green lights pulling the gold and red from his skin, and the reverent way he looks at you answer enough.

For several moments, you remain this way, silently regarding one another and letting thought, emotion, and need grow between you. A moment of silence in which there is no silence at all, the noise of the city a soundtrack of wanting that gets drowned out, stifled beneath the prism of affection that blooms and blossoms between your chests.

'Thank you,' he says, as though nothing at all had transpired, as though there was no pause, as though time did not stop at all. 'I'm a messy eater, sometimes.'

'I can be, too,' you muse, looking away and hoping for a distraction, a thing that should not be so difficult to find, yet still proves to be. 'He always hated that, my ex.'

Chanyeol snorts, finishing the desert with a large bite. 'I don't think that's something you can help,' he counters, mouth full.

You shrug. 'He would always laugh while he complained. I imagine he thought that made it better, like he found it endearing, but you can always tell, can't you? You can spend so long with a person you eventually can hear what they don't say, even if it's not in their tone.' Tugging your lip between your teeth, you wonder if you should continue, if it really matters. 'After so long with a person, I think your language changes, your sentences become the same, and it takes time and distance to unlearn it.'

He releases a long hum, eyebrows raised. 'I get that,' he nods, allowing you to speak without challenging anything at all.

It strikes you that he seems to understand so much of you, understands your motives, your solitude, and you imagine he would be happy with anyone. It strikes you that is is not with anyone, and you find it hard to fathom that he would be without a partner to join him.

'Why are you alone, Chanyeol?'

The question both sounds and feels abrupt, but he doesn't react unfavorably. Chanyeol pauses, crumpling the bag with one large fist, his earlier nod slowing but not halting.

'I'm sorry if that's too personal,' you clarify, reminding yourself not everyone is running or needs to. You and he are different people, even if it feels as though you have become bound together, a sensation that accumulated over time, the same way nondescript, vague senses of time do.

How long have you been together? A while.

How long have you known you love him? Not long.

'It's not,' he affirms, looking around for a bin before realizing there would not be one. Opening his bag, he licks his lips twice, wetting his mouth for the words he attempts to gather and drops the crumpled mess inside. 'It's not personal, it's just that there's no reason.' Raising his eyes to meet yours, he purses his lips in thought. 'I don't like waiting for adventure or waiting for someone to come with me. Maybe that's my flaw,' he suggests, resting his hands on the straps of his backpack as he straightens his spine. 'That I'm too impatient to properly share.'

'I don't think you need to have a flaw to want to be alone,' you reason, 'or that wanting to be alone is even a flaw at all.'

'Maybe,' he agrees, although passively. 'Come on. I want to show you the arcades.'

The game centers are a terrain you find impossible to imagine, to fathom, if you had not been given reference to start from. They pull you in from the street, yellow and red and blinding, luring you to them with the impossibly clear sheen of their glass containers. Chanyeol dives into a building, holding your hand once more and looking over his shoulder with a grin, leading you to a claw machine tucked towards the back of the room, away from heavy foot traffic.

Releasing your hand, he digs through his pockets for coins, gesturing towards a One Piece figurine he regards with competitive delight.

'I've been trying to get this since yesterday.'

The box stands tall, compressed between two plastic bars that grip it tightly, unforgiving in its hold. Your eyes narrow as you regard the stronghold the machine seems to have on the figurine, feeling confident that such a plight is futile, but he slides his coins in, lip caught between his teeth in thought as he aims the claw.

He takes great care in this process, hand delicately wrapped around the knob to guide and settle, calculated and focused. For a moment, you see him as an architect, an artist, a chemist, an alchemist, studied and careful, lovingly breathing life into things that currently do not exist. Triumphantly, he slaps the button to initiate contact, stepping back with eager interest as he watches the claw drop, the lights on the machine sparkling and playing music to maximize the tension.

He is unsuccessful.

'Damn,' he curses, but still his smile remains, reaching up to his cheeks and replacing the dimple you did not know you missed.

Eyeing him conspicuously, you cock your head to the side, gaze moving between him and the machine. 'Isn't this all just a cash grab? A way to waste your money?'

'Sure,' he agrees, sliding another coin into the slot. 'But it's nice to forget for a while, isn't it? It's the thrill, the tangibility of maybe, possibly. Gambling thrives because the odds never appear to be out of our favor, and we all like proving ourselves wrong.'

The last few syllables to his words take on a lilt of loneliness, and you are unsure how to argue with him or this feeling, given that he does not leave any space for it. But, for a while, you are content to watch him, watch the way his smile never seems to disappear, not even from his eyes as he tries and loses and tries, and loses again. Six rounds pass and still he is unsuccessful, and you wonder when you got so engaged with the rise and fall of a claw, but you know the real question is: when did you get so addicted to a stranger who promises the world but delivers the sun, a man who never really lets joy die?

When he leaves to go change a cash note for more coins, you depart too, in the opposite direction, the machine losing its glamour as soon as he disappears. Aimlessly, you wander, walking down aisles and rows, looking in without really looking, hoping to maybe find your own game to play.

Around the corner from Chanyeol's game, you find a claw machine with a set of towels trapped inside, something you don't need, but remember needing, wanting, and putting on your registry with a soft smile, finally feeling optimistic about your future.

"We don't need these," he countered. "We've lived together for two years. Shouldn't we ask for money for the honeymoon? Something we can’t buy everyday?"

"That's practical, sure, but these are nice." They were so lovely. When you were young, you imagined having towels just like these once your got married - adult towels, wedding towels you sometimes called them - towels that proved you were Of Age and ready, but for what you did not know.

Even now, you do not know.

You do not need these, but they're sweet, the characters of My Neighbor Totoro woven into the fabric and a silk lotus leaf shimmering in the light. You do not need these, much the same way Chanyeol likely does not need an anime figurine, but they are nice and they are charming, and there's something about the possibility of winning something, even if it is useless, that makes you slide a coin into the slot.

Time disappears around you, much the same as your money, but you don't think about that. Not truly. It's the first time you don't think about the loss or gain of money in years, mind falling back in time once more.

"Why don't we leave the list on the refrigerator?" he suggested, as though he were talking about a shopping list, a list of needs for the apartment, a bucket list.

"Do you want to?" you asked. But what what you meant to say was: I don't want people seeing how much I owe you. I don't want anyone to know how much we've invested in one another.

There's a nostalgia to the claw machine, something that feels like a regression and resulting in little else than making you feel young, as though you never really grew up at all. Somewhere along the way, you buried the child in your heart, tucked her deep inside and left her in the shadows, abandoning the sense of play that came with living. You're not sure how long you stand there, sliding coins and sliding the claw, focused and diligent, buying happiness rather than buying towels.

And when they fall into the slot, the thrill of success runs through your fingers, eyes wide in amazement because, yes, this was far easier than you thought it would be, and you stand still, shocked and pink with the joy of it. You blink a few times, lips parted in a daze, catching up with reality and yourself, remembering both the you you've become and the you you lost precisely at the same moment.

'Did you win?'

Chanyeol's voice resonates around the room, enthusiastically encouraging and sounding pleased as the machine plays celebratory music.

Glancing up at him, you're aware your expression appears torn, wanting to celebrate and wanting to return the towels, likely having paid far more than they were worth. But he beams at you, proud and happy, and you find that you are happy too. They are not adult towels, not even wedding towels, but they are yours - the first frivolous thing you've bought in years and the lack of consideration you gave to them feels impossibly, delightfully refreshing.

'Yeah,' you laugh, unable to look away from the ecstasy that adorns his smile, 'I did.'

Chanyeol releases a yell and lifts his hand, demanding a high five, acting as though these towels are an award and offering you more praise than you deserve. 'Let me see.'

Pulling them from the slot, he leans over your shoulder, inadvertently tucking you against his chest, and sharing his warmth, his breath, his radiance. You settle against him, holding the box in your hands and admiring the neat stitching, wondering if you too could learn to embroider. But it feels natural, you think, to smile this much and to feel this warm and to win so easily, even if these experiences are transient at best. It feels natural under his chin and against his heartbeat, your hands clutching the plastic as a means of keeping them to yourself, wishing instead it was his hands you had won.

It feels natural, hearing how vital he is and feeling how alive he is and knowing, with all of you, that underneath your years of pretend and experience and regret, you are exactly the same as him: enraptured by the beauty of the universe and demanding you hold it in your palms, never letting it go.

'These are so you,' he announces, breaking your thoughts with a low whisper.

You swallow thickly, always caught off guard when he's quiet and his voice takes on a rasp that makes him sound aged, beyond time. Looking up at him, you let yourself become awed by his soft expression, curious and enamoured. 'How do you know?'

Again, your voice is breathless when speaking with him, and you wonder if this is truly his habit. If maybe, more than anything, his talent is taking your breath away.

'You're like Satsuki,' he says simply, as though this is answer enough. 'You're Satsuki and I'm Totoro.'

It's not an answer you expected, mind falling through the layers of such a statement as he departs from you. Is it his height that makes him Totoro? His propensity for cute, magical things? His service to you? Or, perhaps, his heart, his devotion and loyalty and awareness that you are alone, by choice but not really by desire, not anymore you think, his heart able to see straight to your core before you could grant yourself permission.

Chanyeol returns before you can decide what he means, shaking a bag with the word WINNER printed over and over on the plastic. Wordlessly, he takes your towels and drops them inside, handing you the bag looking pleased.

'I wasn't nearly as successful,' he says with a small pout. 'But, I did get this.'

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a plush Rilakkuma keychain, the item almost dwarfed in his large palm. Immediately, you erupt into laughter.

'That's absolutely hideous.'

Chanyeol laughs too, giggling at the poorly sewn face and unsettling clown pattern. 'I know,' he says, happily. 'It's horrendous. I don't want it.'

'Then why did you bother?' you ask, laughter fading while your cheeks still ache from the force of your smile.

'Why wouldn't I?'

He simply shrugs, as elated with his success as he is yours, proud and proud and moving through the arcade back into the street, and taking the light with him.

Half past midnight and karaoke feels like the only logical thing to do, the only place you think you'd truly be welcome at this hour - the hour late, your body tired, but still unwilling to leave Chanyeol.

Throughout the day and all over the city, you'd seen the signs for a place called Big Echo, their sprawl and reach, white sign looming from the corner of some of the most menacing sky scrapers, enough to lure you in. Their contrast keeps you curious, office buildings standing above you, higher than most buildings you remember seeing in other cities, windows black and impenetrable with a sign that heralds hours of karaoke. It's impossible to understand, and you are glad for this incongruity.

Most of all, you find you are hungry. Chanyeol kept you out in Akihabara well past dinner, dining on street food and winding from arcade to arcade, and now, emerging from Shibuya station, you are looking for something more to fill your stomach. He pulls you along, links your arms together as you walk, bound and united and happy, holding you against him as though it is where you belong.

This late at night, Shibuya makes your eyes hurt, the colours and signs frenetic and fractious in their vibrancy, demanding your attention, your focus, perhaps even your soul. Chanyeol's eyes sparkle as he looks from sign to sign, smiling upwards at nothing at all while you smile directly at him, keeping your gaze trained on his ecstatic pleasure in the effort of ensuring your heart gets used to it.

You know that it won't, that no matter how long you spend with him you will always be caught off guard by his beauty, by the way even his dark hair appears illuminated in these lights. He seems to eat the stars while the light feasts on him, a give and take of reciprocal lumosity and, somehow, you have been selected to watch. Even in a crowd as immense as this, you know you'd find him, drawn to him, heart seeking its magnet.

Standing on Shibuya crossing, Chanyeol pulls you close, rests his free hand on your arm and leans gingerly to your ear, close enough to feel his breath move through your hair. Naturally and instinct, you lean into him, positive that you will likely never be close enough, hoping and wishing that his lips will graze your skin, thinking you might finally know the true definition of bliss in the wake of such a happy accident.

'When we cross,' he says, close enough to rest his head against yours, lips kissing at the shell of your ear as he speaks and your heart breaking and reshaping in one single instant, 'don't let go of me. Don't let go but make sure you watch.'

'I won't,' you say, tightening your grip even though a crowd like this does not phase you, Times Square at Christmas an entirely different sort of test. But you tighten anyway, keeping him close, certain that he will try to rush ahead of you and, for just this once, you want him to be yours. 'I won't.'

The crossing sign turns green and all at once you are taken by it, moving forward as though something as simple as this has purpose, meaning, a symbolism of initiation you will bear as a cross. A smile pulls at your lips, widening with each step, feeling anonymous and feeling terribly insignificant, drowning in a sea of people with Chanyeol as your oar.

Someone laughs. You think it might be you. Another takes a picture. You know it is not Chanyeol. Lifetimes and stories pass you by, and you are drunk on it, wired into obsession simply because you feel as though you've crossed the world again and again, forty steps and still more angles to traverse the same path, new ways to witness the same thing. Different people, the same shape, nothing ever really the same again.

The Big Echo is tucked inside a dark amber building housing offices, stores, and restaurants. The elevator to the eighth floor seems far too elegant to be taking you to karaoke, a place where most people drink to celebrate or drink to forget or simply drink, aware that it is Friday or Sunday and the weekend has passed by with the same unyielding speed as life itself. Comprised of floor to ceiling mirrors, you and Chanyeol, standing side by side, are eternally, endlessly refracted into infinity.

Yet, in every reflection, every angle, all you can truly see is him.

At such close proximity, the closest you've ever really been - with no way out and only one way in - and the most alone you've ever been, you are suddenly aware of his strength and magnitude. Eyes drawn to the length of his arms, you regard the veins that rise as canyons down to his hands, keeping the secret of his power within his knuckles and joints. The tattoos adorning the skin captivate you, their pointillism blackness so rich and detailed, standing out on him better than you've ever seen on anyone else, the darkness resting on him with the same pride as the light.

Lifting your gaze, you study the regal line of his posture, the confidence rooted in his spine and shoulders, and feel your fingers twitch. You have held men before, held a lover in your arms and against your body, aware of the weight and aware of the heat, but never have you wanted to hold anyone quite so solidly, or quite so physically.

You wait for him to stop you, so obvious in focus you devote to his features, but he does not, simply inches closer, wordlessly encouraging your stare. And you do, letting yourself become haunted by the slope of his lips, the false phantom memory of their touch igniting along your skin. Perhaps it is your awareness of his dimples, the clandestine softness he keeps nestled at the corner of his mouth, that keeps you on the edge of anticipation, hoping and hoping to see them again.

Like this, you drink him in, admiring the tips of his ears and the thick, softness of his hair that makes your fingers begin to ache. How would it feel to card your fingers through the strands? Would he smile and lean into the touch? Would he watch you, eyes wide and speechless at the gentleness you'd provide? Would he ask you to do it again and again, craving your hand and your warmth, as badly as you seem to be craving his?

This was always your biggest flaw, you think, hyper aware of your detachment and the way your mind would always wander. During sex, during dinner, during long drives, or even during conversation. Always, he would find you looking away, looking nowhere, hearing without listening, seeing without witnessing, and he would call you back, asking where you went.

But you always wanted to say the most important thing was that you looked back. Always, you would return to him.

With Chanyeol, it’s impossible to be anywhere other than absolutely with him, resolutely and down to your core. To look away from him would mean pain; to break away from him would hurt, sever parts of you long buried but still connected, still whole, still vital, just neglected. And the same way you refuse to depart from him, so too does your skin refuse to truly let him go. The press of his body against yours is a preview to all the wishes that settle on you like a fever, sending a flush of heat up your chest and neck, and down to your thighs, wanting to be full of him.

And so you don’t look away. You simply won’t, aware and waiting, feeling his touch before and without it happening, imagination running wild while your heart battles against your sternum.

Feeling your gaze on him, he turns to look at you, on floor six when there's so little time to truly have all of him, but he blushes, receptive to the ferocity of you. Bags have taken root under his eyes, exhausted by a day of sightseeing, and giving him a puffy, purple hue, but he’s glorious in the mess of it, unable to be anything but majestic.

He keeps his eyes on you, unwavering and demanding, the most demanding he's been since you met him, turning his chest towards yours hardening, not in cruelty but with a sensuality you did not expect to see. Like this, he makes you aware that he does not only feel your gaze but relishes it, feels it deeper than you mean it to go. With one hand, he clenches the evaluator railing, leaning closer and closer while his other clenches into a fist before straightening, touching while touching nothing.

And with his eyes on you, your body wanting his body, the air in the elevator becomes thick, elevating your heart rate the same way it elevates you.

When the elevator dings, he breaks from you, lips parted and eyes searching, pupils dilated for a different kind of light and a different kind of relief. His strides are quick where yours are sluggish, wanting to remain in the bubble of desire that cradled you. But he looks back, lips wet from where his tongue has just been, knowing you are there and unable to look away.

You smile, rolling your shoulders back to lift your breasts, following blindly while not really following at all.

Settled in your private room, Chanyeol orders more food than you know what to do with, his only explanation that you said you were hungry before he takes a skewer of yakitori into his mouth, consuming it all in one go as he chooses a list of songs. His fingers are quick, selecting a number of songs and creating a queue before you even read the titles.

'I've only ever done this when I was drunk,' you admit, eyeing the digital pad with apprehension before you find the button that says ENGLISH.

'Really?' He adds a second songs, not lifting his gaze to you in the process. 'It's the most fun when you're sober.'

'It's the most embarrassing, I think you mean.' Looking up, you see he has already added nine songs. ‘How often do you do this?’

‘All the time,’ he beams. 'You just need to do it with people you trust.'

Chanyeol hits start, rising to a stand before taking another skewer into his mouth. Grabbing both microphones, he keeps his eyes trained on you and winks as Time of My Life Starts to play. The absurdity of it patterned with the sudden darkness of the room and the glow of a disco ball makes you laugh, watching him with a grin you know to be adoring, but don’t bother to mask.

'God, this song?' you laugh, rooting yourself to the floor. ‘Shall I be Jennifer and you be Bill?’

Refusing to let you sit still and hide in the shadows, he offers you the second microphone, eyeing you in earnest.

'Come on,’ he says, flicking the microphone in a gesture of lifting and delivering you to him.

'You're serious.’

You’ve done karaoke countless times, watched drunk friends and bad friends sing off key, or on no key, demanding attention and turning the evening into a concert about their pain, their nostalgia, their childhood, simply themselves. Any silliness or playfulness is always overrun by the desire to be seen, but Chanyeol holds the microphone, totally sober and fully prepared to abandon himself and his ego.

'Deadly.' The melody begins to play, yellow words turning pink, and he pouts. 'Look, you made me miss my cue.'

He doesn’t wait for your response, just places the mic in your hand and walks backwards towards the center of the room, keeping his eyes locked on yours. His eyes remain on yours as he starts to sing, exuding the kind of energy that says he could command a room if he so chose, and is aware of it. Walking into a bar with him would be like watching into a bar and watching every head turn, all eyes on him and you knowing the eyes are their eyes are there, challenging you to feel doubtful.

Chanyeol is talented, voice rich and warm, chocolate that drips down into your soul, nestling inside your blood to bring you comfort. You almost keep silent, content to spend the night listening to the way his mouth gives shape to words, the way his voice handles syllables with a tonality that speaks of unpracticed, natural ability. But he eyes you, expectant, and when you finally join him you regret not having done so sooner.

The smile he offers you is blinding, warm enough to combat the dawn, content, just as you were, to watch you for the rest of the evening. At the end of your first verse, he claps against the mic, delighted and proud, watching you with a focus he had not devoted to anything else throughout the day.

For you, karaoke comes as a relief. Having spent the majority of your life singing, it hits you, abruptly, that it has been years since you last did it freely. Moving in with a roommate boxed you in, kept you quiet in ways you weren’t sure you wanted to be, afraid of being annoying, inconvenient, or of judgement, and so you stopped. Moving in with a partner, making a home and a life, rather than a room, you tried again, only to find that this desire, too, soon began to fade.

Did he ask you to? Did he ever demand you keep quiet? You can't remember. Perhaps you just did so, returning from the shower one night to find his greeting and welcome cool, so unlike the way his smiles used to feel like champagne. You thought, then, it was your singing, a distraction from late night emails or work, but now, with Chanyeol, you think maybe it was something more, something not about you, taking on his anguish just because you thought you should.

From the start, he makes it easy and fun, song after song of terrible pop music, several you’ve never heard and others you know, and wish, secretly, that you did not. But it does not matter if the music is good or bad or even music at all because, with him, every sound is a work of art. And, with him, everything is easy. He doesn’t mention if a note is wrong and does not cringe or skip a song if he does not like it, he simply cheers, drinking and eating and laughing, joining when he knows the words and watching when he doesn’t.

Somewhere around 2AM, the alcohol refuses to leave you, your limbs heavy and restless, eager for hands and for touch, and eager to be held. At some point, he curled into you and over you, tucking you under his arm, light hearted and light headed, his nose pressed into your hair and yours into you his chest, breathing the bergamot musk into your lungs, deep enough for them to ache.

'It's going to hurt to leave you,' you announce, staring blankly at the screen.

An old woman reaches through her window to stoke the head of a yellow sparrow. The scene changes, a school girl running for her train. It changes again, none of the scenes depicted cohesive or coherent, but they bring you comfort, a confirmation that life is little more than a series of impressions.

Chanyeol moves away from you briefly, looking down at you with a small frown, lips red and wet with sake. He appears hurt, pained that you’d bring up such a suggestion, as though the alcohol has removed him from time entirely.

It would be so easy to giggle, but such a feeling is hard when you’re this drunk and this afraid of losing him. 'Don't look at me like that,' you hiss. 'It will make me want to kiss you.'

He only blinks once before he takes your face between your palms, firm and commanding, and kisses you, pulling you close against him as though he’d been waiting all day to feel you. Your hands wind around his neck, pressing against him as much as you can, ensuring that he has to tilt to keep kissing you, angling himself in the accommodating way that comprises all of the best kisses. A small noise of pleasure leaves his chest, and you smile against him, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, invigorated.

Lifting his head, the heat in his gaze is threatening, jaw set and unwavering in the knowledge that he will not let you go so easily. A hand on your hip glides up your spine, sending a shiver up into your shoulders, as he fists a hand in your hair and tugs it, exposing the full length of your neck to him. Chanyeol latches his tongue and teeth to the tendon, rubbing circles into your hip with the same pressure his tongue provides your skin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, grinding down into him once more for a reprieve, but he bites, hard enough to leave teeth marks and moans, a roll of thunder in his chest that makes your thighs clench.

At your core, Chanyeol's cock strains, the hard thickness of it causing wetness to pool at your underwear, eyes rolling back and vision hazy as he sucks and sucks at you, refusing to let you be free of him.

When he pulls away, your pulse quakes, blood rushing hot and heavy as you watch him, mouth wet and eyes dark, memory forever etched with the way he looks at you - certain you are the epitome of craving, and you, certain that he is all of your desires made manifest.

His gaze falls to your neck once more, a prideful grin pulling at his lips.

'Don't cover that mark tomorrow,' he demands, voice full of gravel. 'I want everyone to see it.'

Tomorrow. Today. Now. Time catching up with you all at once, shattering the drunken eternity you've created in this room. You think about waking up without him. You think of who you will be when he is not there. You feel yourself sober up, and hate it. Perhaps, you hate yourself, the feeling sickly and full of regret.

You lean down to kiss him once more, wanting to feel sheltered, but he leans away from you, eyes sensitive and scared.

'Are you still with him?' he whispers, nervous but unafraid of the question’s inherent weight, the edge of uncertainty falling in the spaces between the words.

Keeping silent, you blink at him, feeling your stomach drop.

'Your fiancé,' he presses, as though there is someone else you could have been with. 'Are you still together?'

Still you do not speak, unsure of the answer or if there is anyone apart from Chanyeol. In truth, had you ever actually been with anyone else?

'You're not wearing a ring.'

Chanyeol's voice is small, withering beneath your silence and coming up with reasons he should not be so scared. His eyes search your face, hoping for an affirmation or a confirmation, anything that would give him permission and you watch, once again, as you become a vicious thing, leaving men crestfallen in your wake.

'No, I don't want to be with him,' you murmur, aware, beyond any shadow of doubt that this statement is true. 'I know that I don't - '

Chanyeol interrupts you, the hope in his voice sharp as glass. 'So I can keep kissing you?'

You furrow your brow, feeling yourself sober up, and wishing for the warm bubble of pretend to return. 'What do you want out of this?' you ask anyway, shattering your sense of idealism.

He flinches at your question, the words sending him reeling as though they are an act of betrayal. 'Just you.'

You snort, the natural humor of the sound absent. 'You're drunk.'

He narrows his eyes, defensive. 'I'm not that drunk.'

'What will you do tomorrow?' you counter. 'It's just one night, Chanyeol.'

'Does it have to be?' he tries, the optimism he carries making acid rise in your chest.

For a moment, you try to picture it - another day with him, another day holding his hand and laughing, making noise, making a mess, making something. It's hard to fathom you'd be the only one he'd choose to do this with, and so you mirror his expression, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed.

'Do you have a girlfriend?' You don't mean for the words to sound so biting, but you feel possessive, hating yourself for it, knowing you don't have the right but letting it move through your blood, regardless. 'A boyfriend?'

'No?' he says quickly, offended. 'Do you think I'd be here if I did?'

'I don't know,' you shrug.

It's hard to imagine he wouldn't have someone wanting to follow him, someone impatient to share things with him, to see as he sees and to laugh and cry and yell as loud as he does. Impossible, you think, to imagine him alone, and so you justify your questions with the sense that he deserves someone, even if you don't deserve him.

But Chanyeol still sees through you, does not let you escape or make it about him, his expression becoming hard. 'Not everyone is running, Y/N.'

Leaning back, you frown. 'I didn't say you'd be running.'

Sliding off his hips, you settle back on the couch, facing the screen and not him, neither afraid nor unwilling to look at him, mostly uncertain what it would mean for you if you did. All day, his eyes on you have been pretty. You're not sure you can handle another cold stare.

'Is it so hard to fathom that I could want to spend all day with you, because I want to?' he demands, words curt and tone clipped.

Bristling, you look at him, falling back into a pattern of control and detachment, heart breaking all over again, this time infinitely, indescribably worse. 'I don't know. Maybe? Strangers don't do this.'

He laughs, the sound empty. 'This is how a lot of people meet. You're just so used to your boxed structure.'

It happens quickly, the firing of your nerves that tell you to leave, the motions of your hands as you gather your things, messy and disorganized. You did this before, not long ago, mind vacant and body acting in its own reaction, but this time, you are present. This time, you are aware of the hurtful experience of running, hurting yourself, for the first time, in the process.

'This was a bad idea,' you mumble, hearing yourself say it and hating that you do.

Chanyeol stands, moving to stop you before stopping himself, the boundaries suddenly drawn and nowhere for him to fit. 'No, please don't -'

You cut him off, moving past him towards the door. 'I'll pay for my share at the till.'

Chanyeol reaches for you, but you're already too far, far beyond the length of his arms. 'No, please - '

The sound of his voice echoes, even after the door shuts.

Shibuya without Chanyeol is cold, more shades of blue than you had noticed before, and you shiver, dropping your bag to put on your coat. Even with it wrapped tightly around you, you still shiver, missing him but, mostly, missing yourself.

The trains are no longer running - you remember reading this before you came, preparing for a city that only pretends to sleep - but Shibuya is still busy. The faces surrounding you are no longer fascinating or full of stories, but the gaunt faces of the lost and lonely, the tired and groups of people too social to notice they are actually alone.

You're not sure how long you stand on the sidewalk, watching people pass and wondering where you fit with them. Do their eyes follow you too, the sake still warm on your cheeks but your eyes alive with rage and frustration and sadness? Do they watch you cry? It's strange, you think, to feel parts of yourself become damp with emotion while the rest of you remains still and expressionless.

Strange, you think, to remember the person you were when you were drunk, drunk on Chanyeol, drunk since 9AM, at the same time as you remember and relearn this you, the sober you, who misses Chanyeol more than the man you signed a lease with.

'Please don't run away from me like that again.'

Chanyeol's voice emerges behind you, sounding breathless and terrified, but commanding. In this, he is unwavering, delivering an order as though he as the right.

Turning to face him, you crumble, seeing the wetness at his cheeks that mirrors your own, the mess of his hair, and the change you've brought onto him. Now, he does not smile. Now, he does not glow, the light stolen by your hands and your words, reducing him to an ashen state of grief.

'Isn't that dangerous, Chanyeol?' you try, focusing on keeping your voice calm. 'That you don't want me to? We don't know each other.'

He takes several steps closer, not letting you get away. 'I'm telling you I want to get to know you.'

'I leave everyone first.' You're not sure what it is about him that makes you say this, his eyes and his desperation pulling your greatest anxiety from your chest, but you keep talking, hoping he didn't hear and hoping he's still too drunk to care. 'I'm not worth this and I have a mess back home. I don't even know where you live?'

He laughs, looking past you momentarily, patronizing were it not for the shimmer of tears on his cheeks. 'Geography doesn't really matter when you have technology.'

'So, what?' you counter, bewildered. 'You want to date me? After a day?'

'No!' he says, looking back at you, running a hand through his hair. 'I don't know!'

'That's the point, Chanyeol!' Hearing your voice echo through the air, you look around, silently apologizing for interrupting the conversations of those around you, but there is no one, just you and him, and the eyes of everyone else not on you. 'You're so used to just going through it alone and making a fantasy out of everything. That's not real! There's nothing about that mindset that lasts!'

'And what about you?' he counters without hesitation. 'Acting like you know me when you've been too selfish to ask anything all day, talking about yourself even when you're trying to talk about me?'

Blinking at him, you regard him in silence, thinking back on the day and the words you've shared and the questions you've asked and realize he's right. Throughout the day, Chanyeol has been nothing but himself, unapologetically forthcoming when the question is asked, honest and supportive, and completely unselfish. Now, with him standing before you, looking empowered and looking violent in his need to be understood, you realize you'd only let yourself see half of him.

And this part, this new, emboldened part, excites you even more than the softness he carries.

'You got hurt,' he finishes, jaw set and tense, 'but you and I both know you hurt yourself.'

It's the fury in Chanyeol's eyes that ignites you, the raw and vulnerable tether to the totality of human emotion that puts a flame in the center of your chest, warming you and waking you. You cannot recall the last time you've seen someone mad, or had an argument that felt just as wild and passionate and important as you needed it be. Years have passed in which you were never allowed to be angry, only sad, the fire in your chest deemed dangerous, and brutal, and cruel, and absolutely never meant to be shared.

Years where every expression of emotion went against the way you needed it to feel - productive and intense and whole - reduced and belittled to just the embers of grief.

'You're right,' you admit, honest in your concession but still unforgiving in your honesty. 'I unmade myself for someone totally wrong for me. But you can't tell me you think you can be that hero. Don't be naive enough to think you can heal me. You know nothing about me.'

"I am constantly saving you from yourself!" you shouted, smiling at the way your voice sounded, beautiful in its natural timber of loudness.

The paradoxical contrast of how it sounded to how you felt - exhausted, burdened - made you want to laugh, but you held back, aware that one battle cry was enough for the evening.

"Why are you so angry?" he pleaded, the shallow edge to his voice infuriating you. “Why do you always resort to anger?”

"I can't be your wife and also be your hero. I don’t have that in me."

A death sentence. A gesture that would permanently be yours.

'I've been watching you put yourself back together all day,' Chanyeol retorts, matching the volume of your voice. 'All day it's been you, doing things because you want to, not because you had to. I know, with confidence, that you don't need me. But I'm saying I still want to be here. For you. I had too good of a time with you for it to mean nothing.'

The passion and raw veracity in his tone sends you reeling, and you sway, at once unsteady in this feeling. In one day, just one day, Chanyeol has proved he knows how to fight for you, the way you always needed someone to - with violence and impatience and a blunt, almost menacing honesty. You'd softened yourself for someone, surrendered pieces of yourself in the acceptance of comfort, neither love nor desire nor attraction, just safety, assuming this is what it meant to feel secure.

In one fell swoop, Chanyeol had unmade you, unmade these falsehoods and rendered you back together, somehow already having learned the map and the truth of you.

And as you watch him, chest heaving as though he had been to war and won; arms crossed over his chest, in victory rather than defense, you agree, smiling, aware that you haven't felt this good about anyone, not once, not in your whole life.

'I know what you mean,' you murmur, knowing that he hears you, would likely always hear you.

As if he's had enough of being apart from you, he steps forward, unfurling his arms and reaching for your hand, twining your fingers together. Whole conversations live and die between you, conversations that don't require words, the understanding that there is no requirement to have your plans defined, the mess of learning one another and learning your way through connection infinitely more exciting. Forehead resting against yours, he closes his eyes and breathes deep, his inhale uneven and warped with emotion.

'Come back to my hotel with me,' he whispers, keeping his eyes closed.

Closing your own eyes, you smile. 'Okay.' It feels good to take this risk, to be uncertain and to be passionate and keep him for as long as you are allowed. 'I have to go back to mine for clothes.'

Pulling away from you, he extends his hand, impatient. 'Let me see your phone.'

When you hand it to him, he opens the camera and leans down for a selfie, and this time, you make a face you haven't made since you were twenty-six and standing on the precipice of choosing security - you cross your eyes and stick out your tongue.

Chanyeol laughs, a messy uneven sound that makes you blush as you watch him stare at the picture.

Returning to the home screen, he presses the home button and turns it to face you. 'Unlock this for me?'

Pulling out his own phone, he calls himself and adds the numbers to both, intently focused on this task as though it is his lifeline. You remember getting the number of your ex - the man you left behind and have no desire to return to - and how getting that number felt practical, a need in order to coordinate rides to work or rides to mutual friends houses. A passionless exchange that grew into the pretense of passion, empty of chemistry from the moment you typed the digits.

'There,' he says, handing your phone back. 'Now we won't lose each other.'

Staring at his number, his name, the sakura flower emoji on either side of the letters, you smile, feeling twitterpated. 'You're serious about this, aren't you?'

'There's so much about me you don't know.' His smile is devilish, possessive. 'I'm greedy and impulsive, and right now I'm selfish. I want you to myself. I never make promises, but I promise you right now I believe there's something here.'

It's the kind of things you would have said before you had to change or settle for someone who kept you comfortable, safe but entirely not yourself. Long ago, at a bar or in bed or on a street with someone who made you feel wanted, you would have said these same things.

Had the tables been turned, you would have said them to Chanyeol - you imagine you will say them to him, different words with the same impact.

'Let me get my things.' A statement with no direction, your eyes wandering over the streets looking for a taxi or a landmark to center your location in relation to your hotel. 'I gave you breakfast yesterday,' you say, glancing at him with a coy grin. 'It's your turn.'

Chanyeol laughs. 'You got it.'

Unable to contain it, he leans down to kiss you once more, pulling you flush against him and kissing you first with his soul and then with his mouth. Now, you are completely sober, the cool night breeze and Chanyeol's rough words having dissolved the alcohol and your light sense of affection, replacing it with the fervor of ardor you'd been aching for. With his hands on you, pressing into the muscles of your back, and his lips moving against yours, smiling and laughing and kissing you over and over, you realize it's the first time you've ever felt anything from a kiss.

Now, you let him swallow your breath whole, willingly and without protest. He kisses you until you feel dizzy. He kisses you until you both are gasping, until you remember these sorts of displays are unfit for Japanese streets, and you break apart laughing at the thrill of breaking rules.

'I've never wanted to do that with anyone as much as I want to with you,' he admits, resting his forehead against yours once more, looking bashful.

You hum, attempting to prolong your absence from him. 'Me too.'

Slowly, you pull away from him, separating only when you absolutely must, Chanyeol holding into your hand until he absolutely cannot anymore. You walk backwards, much like he did at karaoke and much like you think you will always do, never wanting to look away from him.

When you finally do, you pull out your phone, walking in a direction you assume to be correct while you open the map on your phone.

Your phone rings.

A laugh erupts from your chest.

You pick up the call.

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summonerscenarios · 4 years

Note

How about some more chaotic Mc! Characters of your choice reacting to encountering Mc looking lost, so they ask how they got there. Someone decided that including Mc in the good ol game "The Floor is Lava" was a good idea. So, without thinking, Mc hopped onto the closest thing, the outside of a bus. Before they were able to get right back off, the bus took off with them on it. They highly doubt this is what happened, until the group Mc was with confirmed that is what happened. Hope this is ok!

Chaotic MC is once again getting into mischief! honestly I’m loving these scenarios so far because the idea of the MC just straight up using a bus for the floor is lava is so hilarious to me and I wouldn’t be surprised if this actually happened. (also from a floor is lava champion a rookie mistake smh)

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Takemaru

Takemaru spots you wandering around while he’s out running errands in his truck. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for the two of you to cross paths while he’s going about his work, if anything you guys accidentally meet up so often it’s become an inside joke. However he recognizes the look of someone who’s lost when he sees it, and you look like you have no idea where you are. He pulls up next to you and leans against the truck door as he calls out to you; you look relieved when you spin around and notice him and you all but jog over to the truck to greet him.

He asks you why you’re looking around so confused. Once he hears the story of playing the floor is lava with Ryota and your friends he almost doesn’t believe it. You make rash decisions all of the time but hopping on a bus right as it took off? AND sticking on it until it reached the next stop and getting lost? You can’t fault him for being at least a little bit skeptic. However he’s not just going to leave you wandering around trying to find a way back to Shinjuku Academy, plus when you give him those puppy dog eyes as you ask him where the quickest route back is of course he’s going to cave. With a sigh, Takemaru runs a hand through his hair and motions for you to get into the passenger seat, reassuring you that he’ll get you back to your group in no time.

You all but leap at the chance to get back and as soon as you’re in the truck and the belt’s you’re safely on your way back to Shinjuku. The ride back is straightforward; Takemaru knows these roads like the back of his hand by this point so the ride back is relatively comfortable, the only silence broken when you fiddle with the radio stations and start up some idle chatter. You guys talk more about what happened, how you thought you could have gotten off the bus before it took off, the route you ended up taking and some of the places you passed by before you were able to get off. You clearly feel a lot better now that you don’t have to worry about being lost, and even crack a joke that you’ve found some pretty cool shops to check out the next time you get lost in the area.

By the time the truck pulls up to the Academy and you jump out, the Summoner’s are already rushing out to meet you as soon as they see you. Ryota’s the first to reach you and as soon as Takemaru hears the boy fretting over if you got hurt and asking you what happened with the bus the oni begins to realize that damn you were serious. This is only confirmed when Shiro approaches him and begins apologizing profusely for Takemaru having to go out of his way to bring you back, corroborating your story in his explanation and filling in the gaps of what’s happened since you were gone. Even with it explained Takemaru’s in disbelief but he decides that it’s better not to question the kind of trouble you get into in favor of just being glad you got back in one piece. With that being said he still leaves you with a reminder to stay out of trouble next time, or at least to give him a call next time you get lost and he’ll come to your rescue before he heads off to continue his errand run.

Snow

Not much goes down in the Berserker’s territory that isn’t noticed by the ever watchful eye of Snow, so when word first comes about that you were spotted wandering around Ikebukuro after tumbling right off the back of a coach the news reaches his ears almost as soon as your feet (or body in this case) touched the floor. Naturally the lion transient brings this information to master Claude and upon being told to seek you out and bring you in if necessary Snow sets out to seek you out. He’s swift in finding you - you’d decided to take a rest on a bench not too far away from the Ikebukuro guild, still cursing at the scuffs marking up your knees and elbows and trying to wipe away as much dirt and debris as you can when you notice that you’re no longer alone.

Ever doting, Snow kneels down to your height and takes over looking over your injuries - they’re surface level but still sting when you move the joints too quickly. He takes care not to cause too much discomfort as he looks you over, noting that you must have taken quite a tumble as he looks up to meet your eyes in a silent questioning for an explanation. He’s mostly silent as you begin to open up about what happened, how an abrupt game of the floor is lava got out of hand when you’d hopped onto a bus and wasn’t able to get off before it took off on its intended path. His reaction is neutral throughout, humming along even when some of the facts you mentioned seem rather far fetched even for him, though if he does he doesn’t let his doubt show in the slightest.

By the time your story is concluded Snow’s already cleaned your injuries with a few well placed plasters to cover them up (when he pulled them out you have no idea but you’re definitely not complaining) and you watch him rise to his feet and hold out his hand for you to take. After such a surprising turn of events surely it’s for the best that he helps you return back to your friends, yes? After all they must be worried about you! Though Snow also wants to use this to see for himself if you’re being truthful about what actually happened, so when you slip your hand into his and accept his offer he offers you a smile pleased by your response.

The journey back is a pleasant one. After stopping by the guild momentarily you soon find yourself whisked off into a car and on your way back to where you were originally playing with your friends, where the only thing you had to worry about was keeping up conversation with Snow as you watch the scenery pass by through the window. The students that you had been playing with at the time practically rushed you in relief when they spotted you step out of the door as Snow opened it for you, a barrage of questions ranging from ‘where did you go?!’ to ‘do you realize how long you’ve been gone?!’ coming from several directions as you do your best to fill them in on what happened. Snow only hears that your story is in fact true from the mage who was doing a hell of a job reaming you out for being so reckless, warning you to be careful the next time you decide to hop onto a moving vehicle and even Snow finds himself taken aback seeing the group all speak out in agreement, further ensuring the truth behind your words. You can spot him shaking his head in surprise, though he still smiles when you turn back to him and shrug helplessly in a ‘well it happens’ gesture before your attention gets pulled back to your friends.

Ebisu

When Ebisu first spots you wandering around outside of the shop he wonders if you’re looking for something that you’ve lost. You passed by the window a couple of times before leaning against a wall and checking your phone, brows furrowed in confusion and then he thinks that perhaps you’re waiting for someone. Maybe you and Benten were planning to meet up? The two of you had been spending a lot of time together recently so the thought itself isn’t so weird to consider. However the next time he checks up on you a few minutes later you’re still perched against the wall, looking even more concerned than before.

Not wanting to leave you outside when something could be wrong Ebisu plucks up the courage to step outside the shop and call out to you, watching your expression shift into a smile upon seeing him approach. That smile turns into an awkward chuckle however once he asks if you’re alright, though before he can apologize if he made you nervous you begin filling him in on what’s transpired over the past hour. You’d been hanging out with Benten and some other friends when one of them had bellowed out floor is lava, and after a quick rundown of the game you’d panicked and latched onto the nearest thing that wasn’t the floor. I mean, how were you supposed to know that the thing was going to take off as soon as you’d grabbed onto the rear bars? The last thing that you’d seen of your group before the transport had rounded the corner was the Biwa player yelling for you to just let go as you disappeared from their line of sight.

Ebisu is shocked to learn about what’s happened - it sounds so bizarre that coming from anyone else it probably would have sparked some serious doubt, but after all the weird things you two have been through he thinks that it could very well be true. He doesn’t think that you’d lie about something like that so you’re surprised when instead of questioning you he just nods and confides that it must have been a shocking turn of events and that he’s just glad that you’re okay.

As soon as the words come out of his mouth however your phone pings with a message from Benten, followed by a spam of messages asking where you ended up and where you were right now. She even sent you a video someone had taken of the whole thing, and it’s even more bizarre to see the whole thing play out on the video than it was when you initially explained it. It doesn’t take long to fill your friend in on where you are, and the conversation ends with a firm order to stay where you are and she’ll come get you before the messages stop. While Ebisu’s relieved that the situation’s resolved itself he’s still got to get back to the shop, but at the same time he doesn’t want to leave you out here waiting who knows how long before Benten can get here. So after a moment of mulling the question around in his head Ebisu asks you if you’d like to come inside until she shows up - so long as you’re okay with it of course! But you can tell that he’s relieved when you accept the offer and take the lead back to the shop.

#Anonymous #housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagine #takemaru #housamo takemaru #snow #housamo snow #ebisu #housamo ebisu #request #ask

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jesusmick · 4 years

Text

Sad Boy Hours in Mexico

I have always wondered about the deleted scene from s9e6 where Mickey meets a guy wearing a Gay Jesus shirt. Here is a little drabble I wrote to try to fill in some gaps and explain how Mickey decides to go back to Chicago and prison. Featuring Mandy bc I love her. (2000 words).

It is dark by the time he turns the key to his apartment, the faint click of the lock rattling the loose doorknob. He doesn't know why he even bothers to lock it. He has nothing worth stealing, the drugs and the cash both locked up safe in Alonzo's apartment across town. Even if he did have something of value stashed away in his shitty third floor apartment, nobody in the neighborhood would dare try to break in. The people here, his neighbors, they left him alone. Come to think of it, his coworkers did too. Maybe it was because getting in with the Sinola cartel had been his dad's idea. He had been working with them for over a year now selling overpriced party drugs to stupid American tourists, but the other dealers still called him "El Menor". The younger. The lesser. Even 2000 miles away in Cabo, Mickey was still living in his father's shadow.

He kicks the door shut and toes his shoes off, dropping his backpack by the door. He's exhausted. The fog curling around his mind begs him to collapse on the bare mattress in the corner of the room and sleep until he forgets. He has done too much remembering for one day.

Instead, he moves to the beat-up mini fridge in the other corner of the room. Besides the mattress, the mini fridge, and the broken dresser that had been in the room when he moved in, he is alone. The single bare light bulb hanging from a wire in the ceiling does little to make his home for the last 14 months feel lived in.

Opening a beer, Mickey steps out onto his balcony and folds himself into a plastic picnic chair he inherited from his neighbor when she moved out.

Elena. She had been nice, Mickey thinks. Young and terrified, she had reminded him of Mandy. They would occasionally sit out on their balconies together and smoke. She didn't speak English, and Mickey's Spanish was fairly limited, but they got on. She had moved out a few months ago after getting pregnant with her drug addict boyfriend. Mickey knew he was in jail now. He also knew that he was the one who had sold Hernesto the drugs he had been on when he robbed the liquor store down the block. Mickey suspects that Elena knew too, but she never mentioned anything. She never blamed him and when she moved out, she gave him a potted plant and the plastic chair.

The plant had died weeks ago. Mickey wonders if Elena had her baby.

Taking a sip of his beer, Mickey's mind wanders to Mandy. He knew she had left Chicago years ago. They didn't talk much, but last he checked she was in Los Angeles working as a cocktail waitress in a bar frequented by the same trust-fund babies who made up the majority of his clientele. In a way, he was jealous of her, but also incredibly proud. She had gotten out. Out of their father's clutches, out of their shitty neighborhood in the Southside, and out of her own way. She was making something of herself, all by herself, even if that something was watered down appletinis.

Mickey, he could never be that person. He needed others too much, he thinks. He was too soft, too lost in his own head, too attached. Those first few weeks in Mexico had been some of the loneliest of his life. That was why he fell in with the Sinola cartel in the first place. Well, that and the fact that he was in the country illegally, making holding down a regular job impossible. His father had connections and he was desperate for a distraction. He wasn't stupid enough to call his group of dealers and distributors a family. He knew that they wouldn't think twice about killing him if he did something he shouldn't. But Mickey wasn't stupid, and so far, coasting along in this new life had made things easier. He had a job, a purpose, and a small shitty apartment to come home to at night. It was enough.

Until it wasn't. Until today.

He thinks that maybe he was a little bit numb. That being on his own for so long had turned his head to business and buried his anger, his sadness, his fear under a thick layer of dust and cheap Mexican beer.

Suddenly, he realizes that he is crying. He doesn't know when it started, maybe since he sat down on the porch, but if the dotted teardrops soaking into his shirt are any indication, he has been silently crying for a while now.

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms and pulls out his phone. He doesn't know why he does it. But he finds himself scrolling through his contacts and pressing call before he can think twice.

She picks up on the 4th ring. Mickey thinks maybe he would have preferred it if it had gone to voicemail.

"Mickey?" She sounds like she is somewhere crowded, Mickey can hear car horns softly in the background and the sound of high heels clicking on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Mandy." His voice is softer than he intended.

"Hey." There is a long pause before she continues and Mickey thinks that maybe this was a mistake. "I thought you were in Mexico."

"I am. How's LA?" God, this is awkward. Fuck, he and Mandy had never been good with words, even at the best of times. Now, after not speaking in years? What was he thinking?

"It's good, I'm good. I'm on my way to work actually."

"Oh, right. Do you want me to call you back? Sorry, I should have texted first."

"No, no, its fine. I still have a bit of a walk. What's going on?"

And that's it, isn't it? Nothing is going on, at least nothing that should have any affect on Mickey's life. But here he is, sitting on his shitty porch, drinking his third beer, and trying to keep his voice from betraying the fact that he's been crying.

It's just not fair. It's not fair that he should be out there, moved on to some new chapter of his life. Some new partner. While Mickey is here, still somehow waiting for him.

"Mick, you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here." He rubs his eyes again, pressing hard until he sees spots. He keeps them closed.

"You heard from Ian?"

It's out there now. The reason he called Mandy. The reason he was so distracted and irritable after seeing that college kid from Chicago wearing the "Gay Jesus" shirt. Alonzo had shoved him out of his apartment while they were counting the day's profits and told him to go fuck himself after his fourth nasty remark.

"Yeah," Mandy answers, "I've heard from him."

"And?" Mickey asks, suddenly frustrated. He stares out across the balcony railing, streetlamps flickering and the warm glow from neighboring apartments illuminating the street below. They should be staring out at the street together.

"He called me a few day's ago. I guess you heard about the whole Gay Jesus thing. He stopped taking his meds, got in with the wrong people, blew up a van. His sentencing is on Friday."

"Jesus Christ." Mickey exclaims softly.

He's quiet then. He can hear the sound of a crosswalk through the phone and Mandy's heels on the pavement. He thinks she might have pressed the phone to her chest because he hears her greet someone softly and the background noise suddenly fades.

"I should go." Mickey says and he hates how his voice breaks. Hates that he let himself get this affected. Hates that he is here, alone, in his shitty apartment with his shitty job stranded in fucking Cabo of all places.

He is about to press end on his phone and go grab a fourth beer when Mandy's voice, suddenly clear, speaks again.

"He misses you, Mickey." And that is just too much.

"If he misses me so much," Mickey's voice wobbles dangerously, "why did he leave me in fucking Mexico?" And he is openly crying now. He knows Mandy can hear it. And he hates that too.

Mandy sighs. "He's fucked up Mickey. Just like we all are. But he does miss you. He's pissed at himself for going off his meds and embarrassed that he let it go so far, but I think if you called him, he would listen."

"But he wasn't off his meds last year. He was himself. Or maybe he wasn't, I don't fucking know. He kept saying that he had is life together. He said he had a boyfriend."

"Some fucking boyfriend he turned out to be." Mickey thinks he hears real anger in her voice then, and he reminds himself that Mandy cares about Ian too. That Ian's sentencing was probably just as hard for her to hear as it was for him.

"He didn't even notice that he was off his meds, Mick. He just let him spiral until it was too late to do anything about it. He didn't even go to his hearing."

Mickey could hear the sound of metal scraping in the background and he thinks maybe Mandy was opening her locker before her shift started.

"What should I do?" He knows he sounded desperate, lost, but he doesn't care. He is desperate and more than a little lost.

"You love him, and even though he may be shit at showing it, he loves you too. Figure it out, my shift is starting."

"Yeah," Mickey sighs, "Okay. Thanks, Mandy."

"Bye. Call me later if you want."

She hangs up and Mickey drops the phone to his lap.

This whole day was just too much. Mickey isn't sure what he had expected Mandy to say, but hearing that Ian had gone off his meds and blown up a van wasn't it. When he saw the kid's shirt, he assumed that Ian had taken a job as some sort of gay preacher or social media activist and was now living a cushy life with his boyfriend in one of the hipster neighborhoods up in Chicago. His boyfriend who was probably just as smart and attractive as Ian. Someone who appreciated craft beer, who wrote poetry, and drank soy milk. Not someone with a lengthy criminal record, a fucked up family, who didn't know how to love someone without driving them away.

Somehow, knowing that Ian's life was falling apart, that his boyfriend as a piece of shit, and that he was going to prison gave Mickey a sick sort of vindication. He would never have let things get that crazy. He would have noticed Ian's mood swings and erratic behavior. He would have taken care of him and set him straight before he could have hurt anyone. Before he could hurt himself.

But Mickey knows that isn't fair, and truthfully, he is more worried for Ian than anything else. He has no idea what mental state he is in or how long his sentence will last. And prison is no place for someone like Ian. He's too soft. Too caring. Too proud.

With a new resolve, he wipes his hands on his jeans and picks up his phone. He doesn't really know who to call about something like this, so he finds the phone number for the public defender's office.

The call is quick and to the point. He knows what he wants and he knows what he is going to risk.

He agrees to meet them at the border in Tijuana in two days.

In the morning he will have to get a bus, a nearly 24 hour drive up the coast. But now, for the first time in over a year, a calm settles over him.

The plastic picnic chair strains as he stands, scraping against the concrete of his balcony.

He's not scared of prison. Looking around his room, he realizes that he has been practically living in a prison cell since arriving in Cabo. He is scared of Ian, though. Scared that Mandy is wrong. That Ian doesn't love him and that he is giving up his freedom, his future, for a man who has left him heartbroken so many times before.

As he crawls into bed, arranging his limbs under a threadbare blanket, his mind jumps back to a lifetime ago.

What you and I have makes me free.

Mickey thinks that he was right, back then. There is no freedom for him without Ian Gallagher.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless #fic

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leechtwinsfling · 4 years

Text

Twisted Wonderland @ DISNEYLAND [ Chapter 1 ]

✨ Twisted Wonderland FanFiction ❤

[ Disneyland Date Series - HEARTSLABYUL ]

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“Seriously, [N/A], how popular can you be?” Ace asks grasping hold of my right wrist.

“You can’t blame [N/A[, he/she has been through a lot with us.” Deuce states holding my left wrist.

The two first year Heartslabyul saved me from the fighting crowd that surrounded me moments ago. I guess my plan of hanging at the park calmly with Grimm has been thrown out of the window as all the dorms seem to have me in their schedule.

“Hey! I also went through a lot!” Grimm adds running beside us.

“Guys, I love the small talk, but can we please focus ahead of us? I don’t want us to bump into children, okay?” I ask in worry as I find their concentration not in front as many kids fill the faculty.

In a silent agreement, they watch carefully for the parents and their children around us as we slip through gaps between them. Our surrounds full of beautifully designed pavement roads, structures, shops, cart stands, and nature change it’s theme. Instead of being a neutral theme, a path leading towards the Queen’s Garden has roses and Medieval-like surrounding it. In astonishment of this change, my eyes gleam in amazement.

We rush through the path as I make a mental note to remember taking photos of this place once the situation has calm down. Nearing the end of the pathway, I spot a small tower ahead. A bridge-like pathway connects it as large figure card soldiers are on each side of it leading towards the tower.

Seeing as we’re heading over there, we finally arrive at the entrance of Heart Garden. Inside the tower, nearby, there is a shop selling Queen of Hearts merchandise which instantly has caught my eyes. But as of this moment, I need to catch my breathe as we finally stop running.

“Okay, Vice-Prefect Trey told us to wait here until they come.” Deuce states.

“How do you guys run so fast without losing breath?” Grimm panting for air.

They both shrug innocently.

“Track and Field Club?”

“Basketball Club?”

Grimm groans getting me to chuckle at his dramatic reaction.

“Seeing how fast and reactive the six of you were when we were escaping, I’m going to assume you all planned this beforehand?” I ask taking a seat at a nearby bench.

Deuce nods, “Prefect Riddle guessed that you’d probably be in trouble as it seemed like we weren’t the only dorm that wanted to hang out with you here. So he devised a plan during the time you were with the other dorms. Then once everyone gathered, we took action.”

“Our jobs were to get you out of there when Grimm was making a commotion. The seniors are as of this moment trying to escape, Upperclassman Cater is using his magic to confuse the other dorms so they can slip free.” Ace adds.

Suddenly, a familiar voice calls out to us getting our attention to look down the road to find our seniors. Arriving to our side, I seriously debate on trying to exercise as they all seem totally fine from running such a distance.

“We have 20 minutes to spare before the line for Queen’s Theater is open.” Riddle informs checking the time on his device.

Without any warning, Grimm perks up as he sniffs the air, “I smell tuna!”

“Are you serious? We ate before coming here, and you’re already hungry?” Ace asks in disbelief.

“There will be food at the Unbirthday Party and the Banquet Hall, so let’s save our stomach until them.” Trey suggests.

The group discusses what their next action shall be as my attention is far away from them. Instead, it’s on the nearby shop as my eyes can’t stop looking at the merchandise. Sneaking a peek at them, I decide to head over to the shop for a minute to possibly buy one of those popular headbands.

Arriving at the shop, my eyes gleam at the products as I know one minute won’t be enough to choose. Seeing how appealing they all look, I wreck my brain into thinking what to buy especially with my money budget (if there is one, usually you should have Sugar Daddy Crowley to pay for everything)

“[N/A]~ You’d look so cute in this!” Cater suddenly appears frightening me, “Here, try it!”

He places the headband onto my head before facing me across a nearby mirror. The headband has wire ears, beautiful white and red roses and a cute white bow and crown. Blushing at my appearance as I never assume that I’d wear something like this.

“I think it fits you more, Cater.” I smile before taking it off and placing it on his head.

Seeing how adorable he is, I giggle as he looks at the mirror.

“Let’s keeping trying some on~!” he persists as he picks up another headband.

“Cater! I found some phone cases!” Trey shouts across the shop getting the orange hair boy attention.

“Where?” Cater asks before rushing over to his friend.

Chuckling, I look around the shop before spotting Riddle. A plan comes into my mind as I look over the assortion of headbands in display before choosing one. Picking up one with two different color ears - black and red - it has a glimmering heart jewels on the golden crown.

Heading over to Riddle who’s looking through tea sets, I surprise him when I place the headband on his head.

“Aw~ You look adorable, Riddle!” I coo at the view in front of me,

Riddle blushes before huffing, “I’m not adorable [N/A].”

Tell that to the millions of fans you have.

Pouting, I see him nearly taking it off.

“Please keep it on?” I ask using my puppy dog eyes.

He flinches staring at me as I can see him slowly giving in.

Sighing, he drops his hand, “Fine.”

Cheering at his reluctant approval, my eyes find something else that interests me. Rushing towards it, I grab it before heading back to Riddle.

“Try this too!” I open the lock of the choker.

It’s design was simple yet elegant, it has red frills with a black leather collar. A rose dangles from the middle of it. (I changed the appearance a bit, but if someone finds a nice Queen of Hearts theme choker, message me please!!)

Leaning towards him, I wrap the choker around his neck before closing the lock. Not realizing how close the proximity of our faces are to each other, we both bloom a blush as I spring back away from him. Sucking in my lips, an awkward silence is in between us.

To break the awkwardness, I always know I can count on one of my three stooges (Ace, Deuce, and Grimm).

“[N/A]! Look at what I found!” Ace shouts getting me head to swivel towards him.

In his hands, he hold these humongous heart-shape sunglasses that gets me to laugh. Knowing he’s going to buy those without a doubt, the expedition through the shop continues.

Nearing the end, I have bought a few merchandises from the shop deciding to buy more later the day. Finding Trey nearby, I smile as he’s looking through the accessory section. Heading towards him, I halt for a second before picking up a flower crown that gets me to smile. It has a variety of white and red roses matching with the extra accessory of a hedgehog, tea cup, flamingo, and crowns. Sneaking up behind him, I place the flower crown on him before he looks back to me. Raising an eyebrow at my action, he takes it off before inspecting it.

He chuckles before placing it back on, “Well, does it look good on me?”

“Adorable.” I smirk getting him to laugh.

“Well, then, I’ll buy it.” he decides before looking back to the accessories in display and picking one out.

It’s a beautiful pendant as it has a four leaf clover with different styles on the leaves. One is entirely silver, another has green and white jewels as the last two leaves are sparkling in green emerald. They all connect towards the center where a green jewel shines. A silver steam is behind it before it connects with the necklace chain.

My eyes sparkle in the necklace’s glory as I’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“Turn around.” he orders.

“Why?” I ask.

“Just do.” he smiles getting me to blink in confusion before doing so.

I hear a click before finding his arms around my face. Feeling his breathe near my ear, I feel myself stiffen with a slight blush. The necklace is in his hands as he wraps it around my neck before closing it. Turning me over to face him, he looks up to my face before down onto the necklace and smiles.

“Beautiful.”

He then makes me turn around again before taking the necklace off me. In complete confusion, I look back to him as he closes the necklace again.

“Uh, are you buying that for someone?” I ask wondering if he has a lover that he never mentioned.

He chuckles at my expression before patting my head, “Yes. It’s you, silly.”

A frown appears on my face as he begins heading over to the cashier counter. Following him, I try to snatch the necklace away.

“You don’t have to buy me anything.” I argue trying to reach him despite being shorter than him.

“I’m your upperclassman.” he dodges my other attempt.

“But it doesn’t mean you have to buy me something!”

Seeing how my tries are futile, I jump onto his back before trying to reach the necklace in his hand that he’s holding up high in the air. People give us looks as we pass through the store. Failing in my attempts to be able to grab the pendant as we have arrive to the cashier, I realize the flower crown on his head. Just when I was going to grab it, he beats me to it.

“Hey! If you’re going to buy the necklace, let me pay for the flower crown!” I huff seeing him handing it over to the cashier.

“Now, now, it’s normal for the father to pay for their children.” he supports me as I slowly reach back onto the ground.

“Really? Now you use the family card?” I ask in disbelief knowing the smile on my face is betraying my seriousness.

“Yup.” he winks at me before grabbing the paid products and handing me the necklace, “Just enjoy us spoiling you.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m not a kid.”

“You’re one of the youngest.” he argues as we head off away from the cashier counter.

“Yeah, but I’m mentally older than the other two.” I proudly smile.

He laughs patting my head, “Okay, then.”

“You know I’m going to repay you, no matter what.” I challenge.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Finishing out conversation, we find the others waiting at the outside of the shop. Smiling, I rush over to them before seeing them all holding bags of merchandises they bought a minute ago. I frown feeling something is very off within the group. It was...too quiet. Looking around, I can’t find a specific magical cat.

“Where’s Grimm?” I ask in worry for my only dorm mate.

“Ah, he suddenly went off to find his tuna.” Ace sighs.

“He said he’ll meet us at the Unbirthday Party after getting his tuna.” Deuce mentions.

Seriously, that cat.

“[N/A]! Here!” he hands me the heart sunglasses he found in the shop, “I won another pair from the manager!”

“Won? How’d you win it and when did you meet the shop manager?” I raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, “We had a bet, and I won.”

“What was the bet?”

“If he can win against in a card game.” he smirks with a hint of evilness.

“Ace.” I give him a disapproving look knowing how he can easily win card games from his expertise of cards.

He gives me a pathetic shrug with his tongue slightly sticking out.

“I also got you something [N/A]!” Deuce interjects.

“What’s with you guys getting me so many things?” I ask being slightly cautious and confused as I remember all the times I had to buy them lunch.

He takes out a folded shirt before handing it over to me with a huge adorable smile, “I also got one, but in red.”

Holding the sunglasses and shirt in hand, I smile at them, “Thanks, guys.”

“You’re welcome.” they both sync.

That’s when I realize our group of six has turn to four getting me to wonder where the other two seniors are.

“Where’s Upperclassman Cater and Prefect Riddle?” I ask.

“They went to change clothes that they bought, and I suggest we also do since I assume we all also bought some.” Trey states getting all of us to agree before heading over to the bathroom/changing room.

Inside the stall, I unfold the shirt given to me by Deuce before giving it a scan and smiling. It was a sleeveless black top with a string design at the end of each arm holes. On the shirt, it was a monotone color of the Queen of Hearts with her famous quotes.

Taking off my outfit I have on, I change into this shirt before matching it along with Queen of Hearts pants/skirt (or whatever outfit you want). Placing the necklace around the neck, I loosely let my finger touch it as a smile and blush is on my face. Taking out the Queen of Hearts back I bought, I place all my other merchandise inside.

When I finish fixing my appearance with the heart sunglasses on my face, I head out of the bathroom/changing room. Finding a familiar orange hair upperclassman waiting nearby on his phone, I head over to him. He wears a simple dark cardigan with a four of diamond card shirt underneath. His pants are like leggings as there are golden orange designs on the sides of them. On his head there is a headband similar to the one Riddle wears. Instead of round ears, they are heart shape with one red and one black. A huge bow in right smack in the middle with black and white chess board design, golden accent and a red heart jewel.

On his wrist is a black and red bow as it’s center piece with ribbons behind it with other designs.

Noticing my presence, he smiles before gesturing me over, “[N/A]! Come over and take a picture with me!”

Abiding his wish, I stand beside him before looking up towards the camera and giving out a smile.

“Oh! I found these and the shop and thought they’d look amazing on us!” Cater rummages inside his pocket.

On us?

Taking out a golden 3D diamond shape earring, he smiles, “Here, try it on!”

Doing so, I replace my right earring with the one given.

“Now we match~!” he cheers.

Confused with what he means, I look over to his left ear to find the same earring. The other pair of the earring. He then pulls me into a hug before taking another picture of us showing off the earrings.

“Gonna post this~!” he taps his phone, “#Disneyland #matching earrings #heart garden”

Allowing to continue typing, I twirl the earring between my fingers feeling the light material. Soon later, the rest of the group appears as we regather.

Riddle wears a shirt similar to the original Queen of Hearts outfit, in the chest area with the heart design it has one of her famous quotes ‘Off With Their Head’. Black-grey pants match with the shirt as he continues to wear the headband and choker.

Trey has a black t-shirt on with Queen of Hearts designs all over it - heart, roses, crown, axes - and dark sweat-like pants. The flower crown continues to sit on his head as he tries to adjust it to his comfort.

Deuce wears the red version of the sleeveless shirt I am wearing with slightly torn up denim jeans. Under his sleeveless shirt is a tight turtleneck bicep length shirt showing his quite built body. On his head are two large round ears made out of black frills and three red roses on each ear. In the middle is a red, black and yellow bow with a white ribbon and crown holding it.

Ace is wearing his a white hoodie with black Queen of Hearts designs and a red jacket on top. To match the top wear, he has denim-like sweatpants withe white bold ‘ACE’ words on the sides of it. The heart sunglasses is on his face as he has black dog-like ears for his headband as there is also a tea cup on his left ear that looks like it’s spilling. In one of his hand, he holds a wand similar to the Queen of Hearts sector. On the other... a huge crown full of popcorn.

“Acem why do you have popcorn?” Riddle asks frowning at the sight of the buttery popcorn.

“Over there!” Ace points towards a nearby food cart.

“How are you going to eat all that before the Unbirthday Party?” I ask in concern looking the amount.

“There’s always room for popcorn! Especially with a movie!” Ace proudly exclaims.

“Just don’t complain to us when you don’t have room during the Unbirthday Party, idiot.” Deuce huffs getting the usual duo to once again begin bickering.

Riddle sighs, “Let’s just head towards the theater so we can get good seats.”

Agreeing, we all begin heading towards the Queen’s Castle with small talk as we admire the surroundings. Seeing Riddle guiding us as he holds the map, I smile before rushing to walk beside him.

“So what’s the whole schedule?” I ask curiously.

“Well, first we’re going to watch Queen of Heart’s History which will take half an hour. Then we’ll head over to the Meet & Greet and get signatures. After that, there’s an Unbirthday Party Event. We’ll have an hour of free time to ride attractions such as the Mad Tea Party and Queen of Heart’s Castle Tour. For lunch, we’ll be going to Queen of Heart’s Banquet Hall. When finished, we’ll have time to go on other attractions before the Queen of Heart’s Parade later the evening. Then there will also be a closing ceremony at night” Riddle informs.

He seriously thought this through.

“Sounds exciting!” I smile as my heart pumps in excitement.

He smiles back before looking up to the top of my head and staring.

“Is something wrong?” I ask tilting my head.

“Your head is empty.” he states before suddenly taking out an identical headband like his, “Here.”

“You got two of them?” I question wondering why he did.

“Well it seemed like you liked it, so I got one for you too.” he says turning his head slightly away hoping to hide his slight blush.

Smiling, I grab it before putting on top of my head, “Thank you, Riddle!”

He smiles, “You’re welcome.”

[ to be continued ]

#twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #deuce spade #ace trappola #twisted wonderland grimm #disneyland #disney #aniplex #twisted wonderland at disneyland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twff dds #queen of hearts

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