Two Puppets, Thrown Aside

all of us are dead — incorrect quotes (spoiler)

y/n : I'm so ugly

cheong-san : beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

y/n : you mean 'eye'?

cheong-san : ... istg

gwi-nam ver

y/n : I'm so ugly

gwi-nam : bitch i fancy you wtf? you're fucking attractive in my eyes!

y/n : take out the s.

gwi nam :

also gwi nam : cHeONg-sAn

---

Second part of that one fatui/tsaritsa ask as promised you touch starved heathens <3

"Don't even try, ankle-biter," Foul Legacy's pearl eye bore straight into Scaramouche's, yet the latter only scoffed in disdain without blinking.

"Do you think you scare me?" Scaramouche scoffed, and there was electro already crackling between his fingers— and he would've happily attacked Childe had it not been for Signora slapping both their hands as she walked by.

"You are both childish," she rolled her eyes, smirking. "Besides, both of you have technically already lost whatever this was."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Chuckling, Signora opened the door that led to your empty bedroom. "Their grace stayed with the Tsaritsa last night, and they're still with her."

And true to her words, when the three did get enough courage to dare bother the Tsaritsa in her privacy, it was to see you asleep with your head upon her lap, covered with thick, soft furs and her hand carding through your hair as she worked in a comfortable silence only broken by your deep breaths.

Of course they left; lately your sleep had been a bit interrupted with unpleasant memories and dreams, and so they treasured any chance you got to sleep so soundly.

(And of course, none of them were stupid enough to bother you in any way with the Tsaritsa around).

──・──・・ ♡ ・・──・──

"Your grace!" Childe beamed as he saw you, quickly taking his Foul Legacy form before you could even greet him. He had been away on a mission, and while you certainly liked spending time with all of the Harbingers and the Fatui in the Palace, Childe and Foul Legacy were special to you.

"Hello, Childe! I take it your mission was successful? Where was it, anyways? The Tsaritsa wouldn't tell me," you frowned, but you weren't genuinely upset; they all had a right to keeping things private, and you were not going to force them to tell you everything.

"Hmm, it was! I just had some debt collecting and pest control to do," he replied, growling slightly when he said 'pest control'. So it was that type of mission, you thought with a hidden wince. "But I'm back now and—"

Quickly yet still gentle as ever, Childe picked you up on his hands. His voice turned exaggerated and playful. "— and I'm not letting you go until I get my head scratches! I've been gone for so long, I bet that ankle biter has gotten all your love and affection and not me!" He stuck his tongue out through the mask, in a new, recent move between the two of you that just randomly happened.

You laughed aloud, unaware that your contagious joy was heard and seen by some of the Palace maids. "Aww, you're jealous, aren't you? You really are the brat Scaramouche says you are!" And yet, you were all too happy to start petting his head and hair, enjoying the rumbling purrs you got in response— this, too, was something special between the two of you.

"Wait, Scaramouche calls me what!?"

You two remained unaware of the maids who exchanged beaming grins with each other; like so many of the others in the Palace and the Fatui ranks, they had been suspicious of whether or not you truly were their God— surely the other nations wouldn't be so stupid?— but over the period that you've been here and the way the Harbingers and even the Tsaritsa herself treated you reassured everyone that it truly was you.

(And even weeks later, two maids would giggle about the night they caught you and Lord Harbingers Tartaglia trying— and failing— to sneak into the kitchens because of how you two kept snickering whenever Lord Tartaglia's starry cape got caught on the door handles).

And that aside, during times the maids and Fatui agents interacted with you, none of them were blind to that almost warm, golden aura you had— it made them want to just. . . hug you and keep you safe and happy, if only to be close to that divine, comforting warmth of yours.

And so there was no denying that you were their God, and thus, all of Snezhnaya would happily welcome you to the land you've created for them.

---

Honorable Or Not(Scaramouche)

Summary: You are a nuisance to Scaramouche’s mission objective, and he loathes people like you. However, he does not plan to end your life right away.

A/N: Some scara being awful!! This idea has been on mind a while back but then JJK brainrot happened. I love the power trippling trope too much smh

Content warning: Gender-neutral reader,violence, corruption kink, unedited, plot twist ending

People like you makes Scaramouche feel sick.

Always so cheerful and enthusiastic, ready to help others at the blink of an eye, and that smile.

Those qualities stirred something in him.

The sentiment is well above and beyond normal irritation, and he cannot quite put a label on it yet.

However, Scaramouche can at least be certain of one thing. He wants to see that sweet façade of yours break. A captain of the knights of Favonius. Who came from a modest middle-class family and landed on a commanding position by nothing but your own merits? The ultimate embodiment of chivalry? Diligent, skilled and that readiness to help the weak.

You pose a major threat to his current mission.

All captains of Favonis do, to be frank. But he finds you so much more irritating compare to that shady looking calvary captain, or that pathetic exucse of a Lawerance.

Scaramouche does not plan to kill you unless the situation calls for it, however. He wants to break you first instead.

Your privileged origins never gave you any opportunities, to wonder on the other side.

What are you, under all those layers of righteous ideals?

Where would you be without that long list of morals and principles?

Oh, how Scaramouche takes joy in seeing, those laughable confident faces distorted with fear! Those used to look down on him as if he is lower then dust, groveling at his feet, begging for his mercy.

With that eagerness to please others, the Harbinger thought you would be quite gullible.

He was proven right when one of his underlings lured you out of town alone, by just claiming to be needing some help with broken carriages. How easy, too easy perhaps.

How you manage to pull yourself up after being subjected to his electroshock is extraordinary. As expected from a high-ranking knight of Favonis, Scaramouche scoofs. But he still got you in his camp, far away from the city of the wind. Better do your best to entertain him, during your stay here.

So you can imagine the shock the little man feels, when you draw your sword at him as if nothing has happened. The way you put down his men is impressive even to the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers.

An electro vision...how did he missed that? Of course you are more resistant to shocks if you have that little gem, it was foolish of him.

You are one of that woman’s chosen...

That smile on your lips.

It is not those warm, daily ones you wear around town. Nor it is one of those encouraging ones you show to your subordinates. Sinister is one way to describe it.

“What kind of fool do you take me for?” Furrowing your brow at blood stains on your armor? Do you know who you are dealing with here?

So, this is what you hide under that jovial demeanor. A cruel beast, with little regard to human lives you deem unworthy.

“Two can play this game, Master Harbinger. I believe the acting Grand master would be pleased to hear I captured a Fatui officier alive.”

This is way more interesting than Scaramouche had ever imagined.

But you know how the saying goes. It's no fun if you do not resist a little.

---

genshin boys in a biker gang

synopsis: when you’re a nerdy college student invited to the biker gang’s fraternity party.

character/s: scaramouche, xiao, thoma, childe, kazuha, gorou, itto, ayato

note: inspired by my favorite UA party playlist by nimbus!! <3 may be a bit suggestive in some parts hehe

ITTO! + delinquent best friend! + feel this moment, sweater weather

your best friend who invites you over to the gang’s late and tumultuous fraternity party!

begins with a cliche greeting — when pebbles suddenly come catapulting at random intervals on your poor glass window during a school night, and you begrudgingly force yourself to stand up and greet the presence of the six-foot framed culprit beaming with mirth below.

encourages your procrastinating ass to furtively slip out your window and fall into his sturdy and open arms — giggling childishly as you shake your head and he looks down at you with that stupid smirk twisted across his lips.

makes sure to help you stand up properly, before taking your hand and scampering off towards the abandoned streets of the tranquil neighborhood. fortunately, the venue of the location wasn’t far off from your address, and soon you’re both sidling into the establishment’s back door while brimming with much excitement.

spending a night with itto isn’t as average as the majority expect it to be. everyone believes you’re the average best friends with much platonic affection for each other…however lately, there’s been a proliferation of an unspoken and irrefutably odd sexual tension thickening between you two.

like when his intrusive arm lazily slithers around the dips of your waist, rather than the usual public display of his bulky limb thrown across your smaller shoulders, as you both push and weave through the congested sea of skimpily clothed bodies bathed in a neon glow.

when his aggravatingly dominant smirk directed at you beneath the fluorescence of flamboyant lights, glows a little too brightly amidst the feverish haze of the darkness.

or when you attempt to sit down on one of the chairs next to the bar, and instead find yourself playfully hoisted by itto onto the marble counter — his large palms tightly pressed around the curves of your hips when he sets you down, childishly bumping his nose against yours in a somewhat teasing manner.

and try as you might, in desperately failing in your attempts to pry his iron grip off from digging against the sides of your waist, the lighthearted sound of his hushed snickers witnessing your futile endeavors still manages to send a stupid flush across your shadowed cheeks.

if you weren’t already visibly flustered enough by the ambiguous gestures, itto would most definitely add fuel to the fire with a nonchalant exchange of flirty remarks towards you, his wandering fingers absentmindedly twirling the soft locks of your hair that you had upsettingly given much effort to style for the night.

perhaps it was simply the air inside the vigorously confined atmosphere of the disco — evidently dense on your lungs as it reeks of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes — leaving you utterly grasping at straws for breath beneath the humidity and his blistering gaze. you can feel the blare of the music pulsing through your veins, but nothing as loud as the painfully blatant thumps of your traitorous and foolish heart.

“thanks for coming out with me tonight, little nerd.”

THOMA! + dependable fixer made hot bartender! + evacuate the dance floor, dinero

the cute bartender lingering around to take your order!

when itto begrudgingly leaves to resolve a pressing issue with some other gang members, he eventually decides to leave you in thoma’s reliable care while he’s away.

comes off as a super extroverted guy — he’s very friendly and welcoming with you, going as far to give you the interesting privilege of concocting a unique (most certainly non-alcoholic) drink with certain ingredients he thinks would suit your taste. and it turns out quite beautiful without a doubt, swirls of orange, pink and violent shades coalescing together within the crystalline glass — almost like the characteristically ethereal sunset captured within a frame.

is low-key flirty…however you don’t really notice it because you presume he’s simply being nice.

but it’s there alright — in the little proud smirks he sends you after succeeding to make you laugh with a witty joke, how his fingers linger a little longer over yours when he extends you the finished beverage, how his eyes seem to stare a tad too much at your seemingly distracted semblance as you quietly admire the aesthetic refreshment in your possession.

and oh, you think you’ve finally noticed it when you catch wandering viridescent irises sneaking discreet yet frequent glances, over at the surface of your lustered lips from the drink in hand.

it’s undeniably evident in his aura when sharing a conversation with you too, as he seems more lively and engrossed with your friendly exchange of various and random subjects, despite the discussion not actually building up to much at all.

so it’s an understatement to say that when another person repetitively beckons him over — with much aggression and impatience in the customer’s blatantly slurred words — that thoma was merely irritated by the man’s impolite and rude attitude.

rather, the trivial spark of anger that flickered once in a while as he quietly busied himself with the man’s order, only ignited even more when the drunken customer gradually began to harass you with perversely cheap and degrading comments from the other end of the counter.

and thus, thoma eventually resorts to walking over towards him with the chilled beverage in hand, casually offering it out to him. when the drunkard soon takes it, the blonde’s free hand swiftly swoops in to wrap around the wrist of the rude man, whispering something incomprehensible beneath his breath for only the man to hear — a seemingly polite smile twisting across his lips as he watched the man’s eyes slowly widen in fear.

needless to say, whatever transpired between them seemed to prove itself as more than effective, to suddenly leave the customer wobbling with a frantic scurry to somewhere farther away from the bar.

as thoma placidly returns to standing across you from the bar to entertain your thoughts, you ask with inquisitive interest as to how he got the man to abruptly scuttle away without much protests or a fight.

he merely shrugs with what you’ve distinguished to be his signature smile, leaning down gingerly to wipe a small stain of your refreshment off the corners of your dewy lips.

“oh that? it was nothing important. now, on to a more pressing issue — would it still be presumptuous of me to see if i could somehow get this pretty lady’s number by the end of the night?”

SCARAMOUCHE! + squad six’s irascible captain! + sway with me, party rock anthem

the belligerent boy you accidentally bump into while exiting the bathroom!

after politely excusing yourself from thoma — as soon as more orders suddenly started flooding in and you had already regrettably finished your drink — the two of you eventually agreed to part ways with exchanged numbers, as you hurriedly left to wash your face in the bathroom.

although as soon as you finish your business and turn the corner to leave, your shoulder coincidentally collides against another boy’s, eliciting a disgruntled response and deathly glare from the other person in the vacated and cramped hallway.

technically, both the stranger and you were partly at fault for not watching each other’s way through the narrow corridor…

still, he was quite persistent with his profanities of anger purely directed towards you — and it pissed you off that he couldn’t seem to find it in his pride to take half the blame either.

so there you both were — arguing within tapered confines for perhaps a solid ten minutes, literally encouraging everyone else to evade the bathroom and hold it in their bladders for only gods knew how long.

strangely, the longer you contended with each other, the more you noticed a lot of details about him. like how his indigo irises darkened with every provoking comment exchanged, how pale slender fingers exasperatedly ran through his dark hair as a sign of clear irritation, or how he infuriatingly chewed on his bottom lip to perhaps compose himself with what mere insignificant semblance he had left.

you presumed that by the unreadable look on his face, he was finally ready to apologize (like you had already did minutes ago) on his behalf of the blame.

however, you’ve probably failed to realize that in the midst of your heated dispute, the boy had already cornered you on one end of the corridor as you leaned against the wall, your hands captive underneath his wrists after practically combusting and waving them around the air for emphasis, thereby causing him to hold them down so you wouldn’t take up too much space flinging them around his line of vision.

you hear him mutter something incoherent beneath his breath, sounding similar to another string of characteristic vulgarities you had eventually grown to understand was just a natural instinct of his.

“archons woman, would it kill you to shut up already?”

“make me, you little dipshit.”

the bold comment is enough to leave the hostile boy slightly bewildered, gaze boring into yours with an eerily odd intensity. he becomes quiet in thought, and you think that this is it — he’s finally going to back down and you can all go on without much of a struggle any longer.

however to your surprise, he simply chuckles lowly and shakes his head with a sadistic grin…tilting his head to inch closer to yours with a cocky smirk contorting across his lips in a ghost of a whisper, that almost instantaneously leaves you flustered at the absurd and blatant implied notion of it.

“alright, trouble. let’s see how much it takes to break you.”

KAZUHA! + taciturn classmate turned badass soldier! + hey baby, balenciaga

the familiar classmate who saves you in your search for the lounge!

you recognized a tuft of white and red locks amidst the dimmed crowd, initially thinking nothing of it but a weird coincidence when you felt a tinge of familiarity within the conspicuous hues.

to say you struggled with traversing through the congested mob was much of an understatement…you basically kept getting pushed and pulled by the colliding bodies, along with the dizzying beat of the deafening rhythm ringing in your ears. you could barely see anything from the number of people vigorously jumping up and down, as your legs began to feel wobbly and considered the thought of giving in onto the floor.

fortunately for you, a stranger’s hand suddenly clasps yours within the heated dynamic of the club — almost instantly hauling you away from the crowd and to a significantly less populated space.

you raise a hand to your head unsteadily, taking ragged breaths as the world ever so slowly began to spin. a pair of arms catch your staggering frame, and you hear the faint whispers of a boy asking if you’re still feeling alright.

when you glance up at the stranger to express a brief thanks for saving you back there, your eyes furrow in evident confusion at the sight of familiar crimson irises. wasn’t this the student seated a row in front of you during literature period?

he seems to recognize you too — a frown etching across his fair features the longer he looks at you. kazuha was almost certain you were practically a goody-two-shoes, clear by the sense of diligence and responsibility you exhibited during class. yet, to find you carelessly stumbling around a club, let alone lost in a dangerous biker gang’s fraternity party…

unfortunately, this also meant his concealed identity was ultimately exposed — and all he does is let out an amused chuckle at the absurdity of it, shaking his head lightly as he helps you stand up properly, before wordlessly taking your hand to courteously guide you over to where the lounge was situated.

you had so many questions as to why — why the usually civil student was suddenly found donned in the same jacket itto wore to signify his connection with the gang, why the characteristically reserved boy was somehow found greeting strangers who passed by and talking with you a bit longer than he usually did in class, why his thumb kept rubbing oddly comforting circles on your palm as he casually walked over to a corner you haven’t noticed ever since you arrived here.

when you both approach a door, you watch as kazuha merely hums while fishing for something in the pocket of his jacket — never once letting go of your hand, even as he pulls out a key and twists it inside the knob. he pushes open the door with his shoulder, sending your astonished expression over with a reassuring and undeniably pretty smile.

apparently, the lounge was only exclusive to the actual members of the gang, and could only be accessed with a certain key — which your best friend had unfortunately forgotten to mention when attempting to enter it. kazuha gestures over to a seat by a vacant couch, saying you could take a quick rest and try to clear your head from the previous events that had recently transpired outside.

he turns around in preparation to leave, however your fingers bashfully clasp on his sleeve, accompanied with a hasty ‘thank you’ that you had almost forgotten to express to the nice boy a moment ago. you feel warm hands hover over yours, pressing a little object that felt similar to the sensation of a key into your own palm — and glance up to see a winsome smirk plastered on his lips.

“here, this is the key to the lounge. we’re even now, aren’t we?”

“e-even? how do i repay you back?”

“easy. just keep your pretty lips sealed about seeing me here.”

his smirk deepens at your flustered cheeks, your grasp on his sleeve loosening at the flirty remark. kazuha remains unfazed on the other hand — simply walking towards the exit with the lazy wave of his hand, to bid goodbye to you for the evening.

“have a nice night, l/n.”

CHILDE! + (my) best friend’s brother (is the one for me)! + like a g6, dancer in the dark

your best friend’s brother who catches you peacefully resting by the couch!

you’re oblivious to the ginger-haired man quietly approaching your table — as your eyes were absently trained on the glass of water settled in front of you, sparkling ice cubes leisurely melting within the lukewarm temperatures of the pellucid liquid.

it’s only after a few rapid taps from behind your shoulder, and a familiar grin peeking through your side-vision, do you then recognize your best friend’s older brother, sporting an eerily similar biker apparel to all the other boys you’ve encountered throughout the span of an entire evening.

sure, kazuha’s secret identity came off as an initial surprise to you…but childe? the lanky and overprotective boy who used to welcome you in his teasing embrace every time you’d come over their house? the very same one who had the habit of bickering around immaturely with his siblings, yet remained an unusually benevolent guy at the end the day? this was him?

and it’s not as if childe himself expected to find you in such a place either — however he doesn’t exactly discern your unanticipated presence as a terrible circumstance. so there he casually leans, over the couch with a chiding smirk at your pallid face, nonchalantly threatening you to keep it a nice little secret…or else he’d politely rat your rebellious ass out to your parents too.

tense moments aside — he would most likely slide next to you on the couch and simply behave the same way he usually does while sharing an average conversation with you, making little to zero effort of letting you adjust at the sudden fact that he was a member of a biker gang.

will definitely haul your lazy ass off the couch just to dance. he even snickers as you collide on his chest with rather wobbly legs across the dance floor — whispering rather incoherent mumbles in the lobe of your ear (that somehow fell along the words of you being careless), while his hands stealthily travel down to your hips with a cocky grin.

warm breath tickles your feverish skin, as you both slowly sway your bodies to the rhythm of the music. you’re almost certain your best friend would have murdered the both of you, if she had caught the seeming oddly close and intimate sight displayed on the disco.

is sort of a sadist as well — when he twirls you around and holds you close with your back against his chest, he likes to lean down to mutter teasing jokes in your ear that leave you irritated and strangely flustered…but nonetheless, smiling.

“we may as well have fun together while it lasts, darling. after all, we’ll have to end up forgetting about this when the night’s over.”

AYATO! + a run in with my courteous blind date! + we are who we are, you make me feel

meeting your blind date while deliberating if you should head home!

as you leave the lounge after handing kazuha’s key for childe to return on your behalf, its only when you realize that it’s already gone past midnight, despite your initial plans to head home early and finish a project presently due a few hours from now.

as you aimlessly wander around the less crowded dance floor in search of itto, you feel a hand abruptly clasp your wrist, gently tugging you backwards to a foreign scent. your head whips back in surprise at the gesture, only to be greeted by a civil smile contorted on familiar features.

it was impossible to mistaken him — after all, you had only gone out on a blind date together rather recently, around a week ago. and it seems he hadn’t forgotten you either, grinning warmly like he did the last time you had seen him. still, why was it always the most unexpected people who were secretly part of a gang?

will definitely spend a little over an hour talking with you in a corner, mostly things about catching up and asking how the other has been doing. ayato’s actually noticed your presence ever since you entered the club, but has missed countless of opportunities to quietly approach you since you were clearly busying yourself with…well, other guys.

a literal gentleman — tenderly nudges you closer to his side when he notices someone passing by behind you and you’re busy talking, will casually tuck stray strands of hair falling across your face with a polite smile (which ultimately interrupts your sentences and makes you blush — he says its for your convenience, but really, he thinks its just cute to see your cheeks red), actually asks for consent before doing anything he presumes you’re uncomfortable with!

actually becomes very satisfied with himself when he makes you smile or laugh, it feels like a hundred victories won for him within the simple twists of your lips…though he doesn’t really understand why you stubbornly refuse to take him seriously when he compliments that you look pretty tonight.

gets somewhat confused thirty minutes in, when he sees you don’t seem very unfazed by him. and perhaps ayato was too hyper aware with the electric sensation of your fingers lightly brushing against his — but you didn’t seem to elicit much of a reaction with his mere presence. because of course he wants you to feel shy when you’re next to him, why was he the only one being so reserved now?

when he hears that you’re leaving to head home, he feels sort of dejected. but it was reasonably better for you to depart, than to leave you around here with the rest of the unrestrained gang members. who knew what would happen the longer you stayed?

his mind will definitely nitpick on him for being a coward to not ask you out, but he doesn’t really want to force you into doing something you didn’t enjoy either. so there it remains in the depths of his thoughts, for the last few minutes until you bid him goodbye to leave.

kind of had a “fuck it” moment in his head when he sees you turn around — eventually plucks up the courage to take your hand with a little smile and a hushed question, before he then watches you withdraw for the evening.

“if you’re interested, would you still be willing to see me again in a movie theater rather than a nightclub?”

XIAO! + gang leader next door! + freak, feel so close

attractive yet private neighbor at the secluded corner of the bar!

you presumed he would be anything but, well, a gang leader. and yet, there the man was — seated in a discreet corner behind the counter with a glass in hand, vehement golden-amber eyes never leaving the faint silhouette of your figure coalescing amidst the sea of bodies.

you couldn’t genuinely tell if you either liked him or not. for instance, he wasn’t always much for talking…which was honestly comforting when the neighborhood would have everyone celebrate the holidays together — as you would simply sneak away with xiao and tag along with him to places like movie theaters or convenience stores, without forcing yourselves to communicate much.

albeit, the night he accidentally stumbled bloodied inside your house (which he had inadvertently confused with his) at the late hour of the night, rendered him undeniably indebted to you for not making much of a fuss about the conspicuous sight.

despite your generosity with meticulously bandaging his wounds, and remaining reticent towards the strange circumstances that had transpired within the confines of your property — xiao’s character was nonetheless austere, and hastily vacated the premises as soon as you had finished your handiwork, without even bearing to pause and say thank you.

well, at least you knew how he ended up thrashed that evening.

you hadn’t really planned on stopping by to share a conversation with him anyway — he’s probably recognized you by now, and perhaps it was only better if you left without making things more awkward and difficult for the both of you.

as you proceed to push your way through the suffocating crowd despite the occasional jostles, you could swear that you could already see a blinking red sign that signified the exit of the club. when you attempt to take a step closer, you accidentally bump into a stranger’s chest — muttering a hasty exchange of apologies before trying to move aside so you could eventually approach the door leading outside.

however, the man doesn’t seem to give you any space for it — and it’s only when you glance up at his face, is when you recognize the perverse and drunken man that had incessantly bothered you while you were still with thoma. except now, neither the blonde nor itto wasn’t here…none of the other faces you’ve met throughout the entirety of the night were. and chances were, with the clogged throng of bodies surrounding the both of you, it was almost impossible to even dare to find a sliver of an opening and ultimately slip away.

you can hear the man sloppily flirting with you in incomprehensible mumbles, his hands flailing as they try to grasp your frame while you attempt to shove them away. you can feel yourself growing all the more anxious when one of his hands tightly clutches your wrist, chills running up your spine as you hear him laugh in triumph while he pulls you closer to his body. you could see that you were a thin line of people away from the threshold of the disco — if there was only some way you could miraculously shove him aside and make the greatest effort to frantically burst in a run for it, maybe, just maybe…

“i thought i already warned you not to try anything funny, you fucking jerk.”

in the briefest of seconds, the burning grasp on your limb finally loosens — and you’re left staring agape at the pervert instantaneously thrown down at the floor, clasping his bruised cheek as blood begins to trickle down the corner of his cut lips. you feel another set of fingers protectively wrap around your arm, and you glance over to see the green-haired boy you were previously thinking of, looking down with an unreadable gaze at the man knocked to the ground.

due to the sudden commotion, the crowd had dispersed and cleared a path to witness the scene — onlookers left stunned at the bloodied man, guiltily averting their eyes away to prevent being dragged into the tense situation. the man coughs groggily, clutching his cheek with terror before slowly scampering away within the mass.

after a few moments of processing the situation, the crowd eventually resumes back with their dancing. you can only watch as xiao quietly wipes the blood splattered off the corner of his lips, rubbing it on his shirt in evident disgust.

xiao suddenly tugs you closer to his chest, his breath hot as it fanned across your flushed cheeks, as he lowly murmured something in a muffled whisper that astonishingly erupts into a pit of butterflies that flutter in your stomach, before he eventually (and rather reluctantly) lets you go for the night.

“don’t say i never gave you anything. now i’m not in your debt.”

GOROU! + steadfast bodyguard walking you home! + last friday night

the nice boy xiao ordered to end up taking you home!

since itto still hadn’t returned from his priorities, and xiao was needless to say, visibly pissed at the man’s utter carelessness for inviting you over to such a late party — he sends gorou to walk you home and ensure that you return safely instead.

very friendly to talk to! he’s kind enough to lend you his jacket as soon as you both step out of the club — to which you initially reject with a reassuring smile, but end up taking it anyway since the night breeze had gotten chillier.

asks if you had fun from the party, while you’re leisurely ambling through the empty sidewalks. he noticed you around the club a lot, and wondered if you enjoyed yourself with the belated festivities…which you genuinely did! to some extent.

gorou was initially worried on taking the task of walking you home, mainly because he was concerned that you wouldn’t feel very comfortable with being accompanied by a stranger…considering the events that had previously transpired back in the club.

he also notices that your shoulders began to hunch with eyes occasionally fluttering shut, soft yawns escaping your lips instead of verbal responses coming out — a sign that you had already grown weary after the eventful night.

instantly offers to carry you on his back! to which you’re somewhat unsure if you still had the capacity to decline on the request, considering your legs began to feel numb from walking around for too long…so you end up complying with his generous proposal instead.

makes tons of jokes and lighthearted conversations to keep you awake. you honestly appreciate his efforts for going out of his way to take care of you even when he didn’t have to, but all he does is smile with a little shrug of his shoulders, claiming it wasn’t much of a bother for him at all.

perhaps the calmest part of your evening, and it felt more than refreshing to just talk with someone, despite your drowsy remarks and the world beginning to blur.

when you arrive home, he carefully sets you down and helps you stand properly, watching as you insert the key into your door knob while repetitively thanking him with a tired smile for taking you home.

“not a problem, y/n. just glad you had fun tonight! get some rest soon.”

it’s only when you begrudgingly reach your bedroom and slide out of your shoes, that you realize gorou’s jacket is still hanging over your shoulders. how the hell did the both of you even forget about it?

you negligently totter over towards your ajar window, surveying around to see if the boy was still somehow waiting there…only to be greeted by the deserted sight of your streets, and the once darkened sky of the evening gradually begin to illuminate, amidst the unperturbed serenity of the slumbering neighborhood.

well…

there was always next time.

---

F.R.I.E.N.D.S. ★°*ﾟ

Su-Hyeok x Fem!Reader | 5.2k words

Warning/Rating: Fainting/Language/T

Premise: Five times you and Su-Hyeok correct people about your relationship status and one time you both just accept it.

Author’s Note: This is an AU fic set outside of the zombie world where you and Su-Hyeok are childhood friends (also neighbors!) but everyone mistakes you for a couple. I personally love the 5 + 1 prompts, so I wanted to challenge it myself. I don’t think I’ll get over AOUAD any time soon, or Su-Hyeok for that matter, so I’m pouring my love into writing for this franchise. Requests for other Su-Hyeok prompts are also welcomed! ♡

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷1. Ms. Park

“Su-Hyeok, what do you think of Nam-Ra’s interpretation?”

Class 2-5 all turn their heads to the back, trying—but failing—to suppress their laughter, awaiting what kind of nonsense would spew from Su-Hyeok’s mouth this time around.

“I agree. She’s 100% correct.”

Some giggles slip through before Ms. Park silences them by holding her hand up.

“Great,” Ms. Park says sarcastically, with an air of teasing. “Now…just what do you agree with again?”

Su-Hyeok doesn’t even falter, replying with, “If she could be kind enough to repeat her response so that I can gather my thoughts more coherently….”

The whole class loses it right then and there.

His seat-mate further rubs salt into the wound by whispering between bouts of laughter, “Yah, did you even have any thoughts to begin with?” This earns him a glare, but he was too far gone to care.

Su-Hyeok grimaces, seeing the disappointment on Ms. Park’s face mixed with amusement as she gestures for Nam-Ra to recite her previous statement again. With the amount of times he acts up in the same manner on a regular basis, he’s surprised and grateful that she still allows him to step foot into class for lessons.

Nam-Ra rises once again, her chair creaking slightly, though that doesn’t wake you up from your nap next to her. Currently, you were turned away from the window, left elbow flat on the desk surface as a makeshift pillow.

“All of us have some sort of prejudice. We all have preconceptions about other people.”

“Precisely,” Ms. Park compliments. “Thank you, Nam-Ra, for saying that twice.” With her emphasis on the word, she fixes her stern gaze on Su-Hyeok, but her next words are the exact opposite. “Bare-Su, please pay more attention to my lesson during class time and less on staring at your girlfriend, Y/N.” She raises her eyebrows teasingly.

Su-Hyeok is quick to correct her, trying to suppress the heat he feels slowly making its way up to his face. “Ms. Park,” he says incredulously. “We’re not together.”

“Eyyy,” Dae-Su’s booming voice reverberates in the classroom. “Now you’re just making up lies.”

You stir at the loud sound, but it’s still not enough to make you open your eyes.

“I’m serious, Dae-Su,” Su-Hyeok splutters.

“Yet you’re not denying having stared at Y/N~,” Woo-Jin drawls, giving Dae-Su’s awaiting hand a high-five with a resounding smack.

“Dumbass duo!” Su-Hyeok says exasperatedly to deaf ears. “Ms. Park, how come Y/N is taking a sound nap in class, but I’m the one being ganged up on?”

“This is the first time it has happened, and she’s still ranked 3rd in the class. I’ll let it slide,” Ms. Park crosses her arms and smiles, entertained by Su-Hyeok’s excuses.

“Isn’t this blatant favoritism?” Su-Hyeok mumbles under his breath.

“You also favor Y/N, so you can’t be one to talk,” his seat-mate once again teases.

“You’re not even on the baseball team so why are you so hell-bent on hitting home runs with your sassy remarks today, huh?” Su-Hyeok slaps him upside the head.

“Alright, alright, settle down class. I think that’s enough punishment for our Bare-Su today.”

When Ms. Park turns back to the blackboard, she says loud enough for the class to hear, “No worries. We can just ask Y/N for confirmation when she’s up.”

By how much the students were cracking up, it suddenly seems like a free period.

“Seonsaengnim!”

At Su-Hyeok’s outburst, you wake up, trying to settle back into reality.

Of course, Ms. Park notices your state of rousing. She’s not one to miss any little detail. “Ah, good morning to you, Y/N. So glad you can finally join us.” Her words hold no malice at all, but you’re still sheepish.

Shyly scratching you head, you voice out, “I apologize for dozing off. Did I miss anything?”

You finally notice all eyes on you. Well, save for Su-Hyeok’s. “Guys….? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Well—" Dae-Su begins but is cut off by Ms. Park.

“Please refrain from sleeping again in my class as it’s a distraction…to some more than others.”

Laughter rings loud and clear again as you turn to Nam-Ra for answers.

“Banjang, you’re the smartest one here. What’s going on?”

Nam-Ra turns to you with a slight smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on her before, despite how much she’s warmed up to you as her seat-mate and friend, though she’s hesitant to admit to the latter.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Nam-Ra says dismissively, but lightly. “Ms. Park was just teaching Su-Hyeok about preconceptions.”

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷2. On-Jo

Linking your arm through Nam-Ra’s while balancing your tray with your other hand, you pull her in the direction of where On-Jo and I-Sak were already seated with their own lunches piled high with food.

“Save some for the rest of us, On-Jo,” you joke as you and Nam-Ra sit down on the opposite bench, pointing to your friend’s tray.

“Ha ha, very funny,” On-Jo pouts. “I don’t eat a lot; I just eat well.”

“A little too well,” Nam-Ra chimes in, causing you to choke on your banana milk in laughter and surprise. Since Nam-Ra started opening up to your friend group, you can already see the influence it’s had on her. Her conversations may still be minimal, but boy do they pack a punch.

While you all wait for the rowdy boys to join, I-Sak mimes pulling you, Nam-Ra, and On-Jo into a huddle and whispers, “So, have you guys thought about who’s asking who to the spring formal in a few months?” Here, she raises her eyebrows and adds, “Better yet, who are you hoping will ask you?”

“Aish,” you rebuke. “I thought you were about to spill your biggest secret or something!”

“Hey, I’m just curious! Not all of us are set and ready like you are, Y/N!” I-Sak winks at you as you’re in the middle of chewing.

You finish your bite before replying, “Huh?”

“Well, you and Su-Hyeok are already dating, so isn’t it obvious you’ll be attending together?” On-Jo answers.

Flabbergasted, you retort, “But we’re not in a relationship. I thought that was what’s obvious.” Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Tsk, since when did you become so good at lying, our sweet and innocent Y/N?” I-Sak pokes you with the clean end of her chopstick.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you emphasize. “I’ve known him since we were babies, and he definitely doesn’t like me in that way. I know that for a fact!” You point from Nam-Ra, to On-Jo, and finally to I-Sak. “Not one more word from you guys, alright?”

Nam-Ra slurps a spoonful of her seaweed soup loudly.

You turn to her and narrow your eyes. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you said not one more word,” Nam-Ra says without missing a beat. “That was a sound.”

You could never win against Nam-Ra verbally. “Don’t tell me you agree with On-Jo and I-Sak,” you say while facepalming. “Look guys, he’s really sweet, kind, caring, brave…” Realizing you’re rambling when the girls give you a look, you blush and backpedal, “What I mean,” you say as you fix them all with a gaze of finality, “is that it’d be weird. We grew up together, and we fight all the time.”

“I like to call that lover’s quarrel,” On-Jo states.

You roll your eyes and throw a clean crumpled napkin at her, which she manages to dodge.

“I also forgot nice smile, athletic, handsome—" I-Sak mimics your voice. You know it’s bad how spot-on it is when even Nam-Ra laughs.

“Yah! Do you want to die?”

On-Jo protects I-Sak from your slaps to her arm.

“Just admit that you like—" On-Jo is interrupted by a voice you know all too well.

“Like what?” Su-Hyeok asks, oblivious, as he plops down next to you, nudging your shoulder with his out of habit as the boys fill in the rest of the bench, focused on their own conversations.

“Yeah, Y/N, what were you going to say?” I-Sak prods, smiling wider than you thought humanly possible.

You turn to Nam-Ra for help, but she’s just the same as the other two, fixing you with a mischievous grin.

Su-Hyeok looks at you, waiting for an answer.

“Uh…I was just saying that I like,” you stall as you look around for a way out. Your gaze lands on a drink everyone has on their tray. “The banana milk!” You cringe as the words leave your mouth.

“Oh, in that case,” Su-Hyeok hands over his bottle to you. “Here, you can have mine.”

As he turns to his right to talk to Cheong-San, I-Sak flashes you a heart with her fingers discreetly, Nam-Ra elbows you in the arm playfully, and On-Jo—You’re going to get her big time for this.

Before Su-Hyeok is finished with his conversation and turns back to you, she mouths, “I love oo yoo.”

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷3. Cheong-San

You have no idea why your friends decided to play soccer during lunch when it was scorching hot out, especially a day before exams, but followed nonetheless.

On-Jo and I-Sak opted out and were currently benched, acting as cheerleaders. You, however, got dragged into the game as Nam-Ra was the referee and she didn’t want to be alone on the field.

The sun was starting to make you sweat, and you chalked it up to the heat beating down on your head for the sudden dizziness you were feeling. You shook your head and tried to focus on the game that was about to start.

Cheong-San was right next to you, and on the far end of the field you could see Su-Hyeok playing goalie. As Dae-Su kicked off signaling the first half, you began to stagger as your vision becomes unfocused. Just when Cheong-San is about to sprint off in the direction of the ball Dae-Su had kicked, you grab onto his arm, stopping him.

“Cheong-San, I don’t feel too good,” you say.

He steadies you by the shoulder and peers at your face. “Y/N, you’re looking a little more than just pale. Do you think you’ll be okay? Want to sit down for a minute with On-Jo and I-Sak?”

You close your eyes as your head spins but manage to give a weak nod when he checks your forehead temperature with his hand.

“Hey! What’s going on over there?” Someone screams across the field, questioning.

As Cheong-San takes your wrist to lead you back to the girls, your vision goes black and the last thing you remember is someone catching you to break your fall.

***

On-Jo and I-Sak were the first ones to reach you as Cheong-San tries to sit you up. He gets you to somewhat lean on his chest, an arm around your shoulder as the girls crowd around to see what they could do to help.

“Is Y/N alright?” Not getting a response, Nam-Ra checks your pulse and breathing. “Her heartbeat is a little slow, but other than that maybe she got heat exhaustion?”

“I think we should take her to the nurse either way,” On-Jo says, I-Sak nodding in agreement.

“On-Jo, come with me,” Cheong-San directs, as he maneuvers you for a proper piggyback.

“Move,” Su-Hyeok says, seriously.

“It’s okay, I got her,” Cheong-San replies as On-Jo helps to stabilize you on his back.

“I wasn’t asking.” Su-Hyeok slightly pushes Cheong-San.

“Guys, this isn’t the time to fight,” Nam-Ra admonishes, pointing at your unconscious form.

Without another word, Su-Hyeok picks you up easily and carries you away, with Cheong-San and On-Jo in tow all the way to the infirmary.

Once there, On-Jo decided to go get some snacks since everyone skipped lunch, leaving the two boys behind with you after the nurse assessed your condition.

Cheong-San starts chuckling quietly as Su-Hyeok glares at him.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t find the situation funny, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m worried for Y/N as well.”

Su-Hyeok narrows his eyes at Cheong-San. “Why?”

Dumbfounded, Cheong-San replies, “Why would you ask that? She’s a good friend. We grew up together too you know.”

When Su-Hyeok doesn’t respond, Cheong-San nudges him with his foot under the bed to which the former just makes an incoherent noise. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I’m not jealous at all that you caught Y/N before she fainted.”

“I never mentioned that,” Cheong-San says between laughs, dimple on full display. “Would you rather I had dropped her to the ground? I don’t know why you would be mad when I was just lending a hand, and considering that you guys are dating and all…” he trails off.

“We’re not dating,” Su-Hyeok says flatly.

“Stop messing around with me Bare-Su,” Cheong-San teases, tilting his head in the direction of your small hands that Su-Hyeok was currently enveloping in his large ones.

“You idiot, I’m not kidding. We’re just friends; that’s all.” He doesn’t let go of your hands. If anything, he cradles them even tighter.

Cheong-San pauses, thinking whether to believe him or not. “Okay, hypothetically let’s say you guys aren’t together—"

“—Because we’re not,” Su-Hyeok interrupts.

“Hypothetically,” Cheong-San stresses. “Then, do you like Y/N?”

“Then, do you like On-Jo?”

“I asked first!”

“I—"

When you open your eyes, you’re met with a white ceiling and curtains, the sound of the machine displaying your vitals beeping away.

Recognizing that you were in the school’s infirmary due to the IV drip and the strong smell of antiseptic, the only thing you remembered was fainting. Everything after is a blur.

You hear hushed whispers and realize it was Su-Hyeok and Cheong-San in the room with you.

“What are you two idiots arguing about now?” You rasp.

Their heads whip towards you, shocked and simultaneously relieved.

“How much of our conversation did you hear?”

“That’s the first thing you ask me? I don’t even get a ‘how are you’?” You fake mock hurt at Su-Hyeok’s question.

“Are you okay?” Cheong-San asks.

“I like Cheong-San better,” you joke and stick your tongue out at Su-Hyeok as Cheong-San does the same.

“We were worried sick but I guess you’re fine now that you’re back to bullying me,” Su-Hyeok complains. “So feisty for such a tiny human.”

“Easy for you to carry,” Cheong-San mutters, earning a kick from Su-Hyeok. “OUCH!” He exclaims as he begins to rub his shin from the impact.

You look between the two of them, more confused than ever but decide to let it go. “Why am I here again? I only know I passed out.”

Su-Hyeok flicks you on the forehead. “The nurse said you were dehydrated and it seemed like you didn’t eat or sleep well enough. Coupled with the heat exhaustion, your already tired body couldn’t handle it and you went down.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Is that all you can say? You scared me to death. You stayed up late studying again huh?”

“Maybe…” You reply guiltily.

The boys shake their heads at your predictable nature. You always study like crazy but this has never happened before, so you were going to make sure to not accidentally neglect self-care for good grades again.

“How did I get here from the field?”

“Cheong-San caught you and—"

“Awww, you did?” You sit up and spread your arms for a hug, having to let go of Su-Hyeok’s hands to do so.

Cheong-San was going to return it until he turned to Su-Hyeok for permission.

“Why do you need to ask whether he’d allow it?” You roll your eyes. “My arms are getting tired.”

You pull Cheong-San in for a hug and he returns the friendly gesture.

Just then, the door opens and On-Jo comes in with a plastic bag full of goodies. “Y/N, you’re awake!” She rushes over to squeeze the life out of you.

“On-Jo…can’t breathe,” you say in between pauses.

She lets you go and elbows Cheong-San. When he doesn’t get the hint, she takes him by the hand and drags him out, leaving the bag behind on the table for you. Just before the door closes, Cheong-San pops his head in again. “Su-Hyeok carried you in his arms all the way here!”

“AISH!” Su-Hyeok throws his backpack at the door, but the two had already left.

You turn to Su-Hyeok who won’t meet your gaze. Poking his arm, you tease him. “So, you do care.”

If you had been awake at the time, surely you would be a living tomato with the stares you know for a fact you would be getting from being transported that way across school grounds.

Su-Hyeok just breathes out exasperatedly. “More than you know.” He said the line so quietly, you would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention.

Not knowing what came over you, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you,” you say.

Both of you were surprised with matching blushes as proof.

Too embarrassed now for having been so bold, you make the excuse of feeling tired and lay down, turning your head to the other side to hide your smile. Su-Hyeok grabs your hand again even as you close your eyes.

His phone dings with a text and you hear him curse under his breath. “That little—“

Which could only mean one thing: Cheong-San.

[ Text: Are you sure you’re not dating? I saw everything through the window ]

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷4. Gyeong-Su

You’re walking along the school’s skybridge when you hear someone calling.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

You stop and turn around, smiling when you see it’s Gyeong-Su. He’s such a sweetheart that your friend group always has a soft spot for him.

He pants as he comes to a stop next to you, falling into pace by your side. “Geez, for someone with such short legs, you walk incredibly fast.”

“Is that all you wanted to say to me?” You push him.

Gyeong-Su laughs. “No, no. I’m just kidding. I have a favor to ask.”

“Glad to know you start asking for favors by first insulting the person.”

“I’m sorry okay!” He didn’t look sorry at all. “I need help with English. If I fail this next exam, I’d have to retake the class and the teacher and I already don’t get along,” he frowns.

“I’m not saying that I decline, but wouldn’t Nam-Ra be a better choice?”

“Sure, but she hasn’t studied abroad. You lived in New York for a year before high school.”

“Alright, but if your English has the accent of a New Yorker, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Better an accent than the Konglish I’m speaking with in class. Everyone always laughs when I have to read something.”

You giggle. “I can meet you in the library after our last class period. It’s a Friday anyway so we don’t have school tomorrow. We can stay a little later than usual. Does that work for you?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, Y/N.” Gyeong-Su looked so happy it was contagious. His smile suddenly falters as he leans in to tell you, “Although, I hope that you won’t let Su-Hyeok know.”

“What? What does he have to do anything?”

Gyeong-Su looks at you like you had two heads growing from your neck, gazing pointedly. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want him to be mad that I’m spending time with you. He’d beat me up. It’s clear which of us would win in a fight, come on now.”

“Why would he be mad?” You inquire, baffled.

“You know, for ranking third place in class, you’re not as bright as I thought.”

“Watch it,” you warn, playfully angry.

“You’re supposed to be tutoring me for language skills but here I am, having to spell everything out for you.” Gyeong-Su gives you a moment to see if you would figure it out but when he sees the gears turning in your head, he sighs. “Su-Hyeok might get jealous and I don’t want that. You know, protective boyfriend and all. The what-have-you’s from all those dramas.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which to you it certainly was.

“Whatever you say. If you see me one day with a black eye and a broken leg, you’re going to be held responsible for my hospital bills.”

You roll your eyes as Gyeong-Su waves and goes on his way, promising to meet up later.

***

A few hours pass and you find a seat in the corner of the library where it’s more silent and there’s a window nook in between two bookshelves against the wall; it was your favorite study spot aside from your bedroom.

Gyeong-Su is more punctual than you imagined, showing up barely a few minutes after you with all his study materials. His backpack could be used as a weapon with everything he packed inside.

“Are you sure you’re here to study, or are you preparing for war?” You stare in amazement as he pulls endless amounts of materials from his bag.

“I wasn’t kidding about not wanting to repeat class.” An English textbook comes slamming onto the table and you shush him hurriedly. Thankfully, the other students are too busy studying with their headphones in to mind the noise.

“We can work on spelling first,” you direct as you flip through his workbook.

You’re surprised how fast Gyeong-Su is learning after just a few units, and even more proud at the effort he puts into grasping the subject. Perhaps you could finally understand why teachers always glow when their students succeed.

“Wow, would you look at that. I’m a great tutor,” you boast.

“Your ego is pretty great too.”

You hit him on the head with a pencil but he just laughs it off. Your phone keeps vibrating with messages, so not wanting to it be a distraction, you put it on ‘do not disturb’ mode without checking the notifications on screen and proceed to place it upside down on the table.

Both you and Gyeong-Su are too focused on your studies to notice Su-Hyeok coming into the library.

“Y/N, did you lose your phone?”

You look up, even more surprised than Gyeong-Su at his presence. “How did you know we were here?”

“You didn’t tell him? Wow, I’ll remember that the next time I have a secret I need you to keep,” Gyeong-Su says, fascinated.

“I waited an hour for you at the school gates to walk home together but you never showed up so I texted Cheong-San and he said you were tutoring Gyeong-Su in the library.”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot.” You put your hand on your head. Su-Hyeok would always walk you home as you two live in the same area, neighbors to be exact. “I’m so sorry you had to wait that long. It totally slipped my mind!”

He didn’t look mad, just tired.

“You can go home without me you know. I wouldn’t want you to wait even longer. I still have a few chapters left to help Gyeong-Su with.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not letting you go by yourself in the dark. A few more hours is nothing.”

Before you can refuse, he dumps his backpack on the floor and scoots the adjacent chair closer to yours, sits down, and leans his head on your shoulder. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

He’s out cold in a few minutes, and you can only blame it on sleep deprivation; the badge every high school student wears proudly.

“Now that the boyfriend is sleeping and won’t fight me—“

“How many times do I have to tell you, Gyeong-Su? We’re not dating.”

“Sure, because that’s totally what friends do,” he says sarcastically.

As he goes back to his notes, you look down at Su-Hyeok on your shoulder, moving his hair out of his eyes carefully so as not to wake him. Were his eyelashes always that long? His nose bridge so high? His skin so clear? His lips—

“Earth to Y/N,” Gyeong-Su waves his hand in your face. “You guys sure have a thing for staring at the other when they’re asleep. You know, it’s the same look on your faces too.”

“What? We don’t do that.”

“First, he gets caught by the whole class and now you get caught by me. You’re lucky it’s just one person who’s seeing this.”

You brush aside the first thing Gyeong-Su says, because Su-Hyeok having feelings for you? Impossible.

“I wasn’t staring!” That draws the attention of a few students nearby.

“Fine, admiring tastefully then.”

You look down at Su-Hyeok again. “You have to admit, it’s pretty endearing seeing someone sleep.”

Gyeong-Su snorts. “You’re just saying that because it’s Su-Hyeok. If it was me, you would’ve already sent me flying clear across the room with a kick.”

Not really being able to argue with that, you ignore it and turn back to give Gyeong-Su another exercise when Su-Hyeok stirs. “Next, can you describe us all with one word and spell it correctly?”

He ponders for a moment before pointing to himself: “Amazing.” A-M-A-Z-I-N-G is the first line on his notebook.

Next, he points to Su-Hyeok: “Barefoot.”

You laugh at the accuracy while Su-Hyeok curses Gyeong-Su. It’s even funnier seeing him write it down in all seriousness. B-A-R-E-F-O-O-T is the next line.

A pencil aims at your face as Gyeong-Su mocks: “Gnome.”

“You’re getting awfully comfortable with the short jokes there.” G-N-O-M-E goes down in the third line.

“She’s just petite,” Su-Hyeok tries to defend you, doing a horrible job at it.

“Great, she thinks you’re loveable and he thinks you’re cute.”

“You do?!” You and Su-Hyeok say to one another at the same time.

“The two of you aren’t fooling anyone with this ‘We’re not together’ thing. Here’s a word to describe both of you. Gyeong-Su scribbles something quickly down on the notepad in perfect English and holds up it up sideways for you as he reads it out loud, gesturing with his pointer finger between you and Su-Hyeok:

┌──────────┐

ᑕOᑌᑭᒪE ♡

└──────────┘

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷5. Nam-Ra

No one ever comes to class early like she does, and so Nam-Ra is more than surprised to see Su-Hyeok of all people stepping foot into the room, the slide of the wooden door announcing his entrance. He jumps when he sees her already there.

“What is it?” Nam-Ra cuts to the chase.

“Uh…nothing,” Su-Hyeok stammers.

“Whatever’s in your hands doesn’t seem like nothing.”

He quickly hides the note behind his back.

Nam-Ra raises an eyebrow at this and taps your still-empty desk. “Go ahead and put it here. I’ll let Y/N know.”

“It’s not for her.”

“Su-Hyeok, you’re talking to me, not Dae-Su. I don’t believe that statement in the slightest.”

Su-Hyeok sighs as he walks over to your seat and sits down. “Prez, I need advice.”

“Hmm, what did On-Jo call it? Lover’s quarrel, was it? I’m not that experienced to be a love guru.”

“We’re not—"

“Cut it out. No matter how many times you guys deny it, it won’t make it true.”

“But—"

“Nope.” Seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything else, Nam-Ra smiles to herself. If she can keep this up, maybe they’ll actually stop dancing around one another. “Now, why are you here and not with Y/N like you usually are?”

“She’s mad at me.”

“I find that hard to believe, but explain.”

“Y/N has been avoiding me and I don’t know why. We were fine still during the study session with Gyeong-Su, but after that day she’s been keeping her distance. She flinches when I so much as sit near her, when I talk to her, she can’t look me in the eyes, and when we walk home together, she’s always speeding ahead. I think I might’ve done something wrong, but I also don’t think I have? That’s why I was planning to put this apology letter on her desk.”

Nam-Ra brushes her hand down her face at the absurdity of the situation. “You guys are hopeless.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you telling me or asking me about whether you messed up?”

“Uh…both?”

“Gosh, you’re clueless.”

“I didn’t know advice came with being bashed.”

“Just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to my following questions.” Nam-Ra revives a nod in response.

“Look, you haven’t done anything wrong right?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Does Y/N turn red when you’re near?”

“Yes, now that you mention it.”

“Is she becoming more flustered now when she never was before?”

“Also a yes to that question.” Su-Hyeok’s eyes widen and when Nam-Ra finally thinks he’s pieced it together, he hits her with the entire force of collective obliviousness in the world. “Oh no! Do you think she’s come down with something? Is she sick?”

“Aigoo!” She smacks him on the head with her workbook.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Focus!”

“I was until you gave me a concussion!”

“That’s not how that works—oh never mind! Just, think! I know it’s not something you usually tend to do, but try!”

“As long as you don’t hit me again.”

Nam-Ra ignores his previous words and continues. “Since you said you guys aren’t together I’ll believe it.”

“There’s nothing to believe or not, we really don’t have that kind of a relationship.”

“But do you want to?”

“I don’t think she likes me like that—"

“Yes or no only.”

“Fine, yes. I can’t believe I’m telling you before I tell Y/N.” Su-Hyeok slumps in his seat.

“So, you like her.” Nam-Ra states it as is, no longer questioning.

“I can’t say no now after what I said earlier, so yes. I really do.”

“Then just go tell her. It’s not that hard. You’re making a simple thing more difficult than quantum mechanics.”

“Does Y/N even like me back for me to confess?”

“Yes.” Now it was Nam-Ra’s turn. “You’re a fool for not noticing it: the avoidance, the distance, the shyness. Any of that ring a bell?”

She can physically see when the realization hits him.

“Everyone can see it except for the two of you. I’m shocked that it took me to smack some sense into you; literally and metaphorically.”

“I always thought that all friends were like that.”

“In what world? Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

Su-Hyeok springs up from his chair with his note, promising to think it through before confessing, and rushes off to who knows where.

When he leaves, Nam-Ra sits alone pondering whether she should just change her last name to Cupid.

Cheong-San and On-Jo clearly need some arrows as well.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ +1

When Cheong-San’s mom invites the friend group to their chicken restaurant for a free meal, no one could decline.

You and Su-Hyeok come in a bit later after everyone had already started eating, hand-in-hand.

“There’s the cute couple!” Cheong-San’s mom exclaims, handing over the largest platter of fried chicken you’ve seen in your life.

“Mrs. Lee, they’re not—” everyone at the table choruses in unison, except for Nam-Ra.

“We are!” You say, holding up your clasped hands.

Dae-Su drops his chicken on the floor in shock and everyone’s mouths hang open comically in silence.

“Mwoya? Have you been fooling us all this time?” Your friends talk over one another, but the sentence is somehow coherent.

“Just ourselves,” Su-Hyeok replies, looking down at you fondly, only to see you already gazing up at him.

---

All of Us Are Dead

---

Reverse Genshin AU(?) Scaramouche -THE Y/N main-

Introductions!

Works as a waiter in a shady club in the outskirts of town; can and WILL get information out of people and sell it for a price. Barely touches the game while working, but makes up for it when on his way back home on the train. There was on time when someone tried to steal his phone despite his “fuck off” vibes; the poor to-be-thief didn’t get to even get his hands on the phone before Scaramouche basically killed him with a glare. Plays whomever he finds enjoyable, but is willing to spend money on his favorites (especially you). WHEN you appeared on the story he was absolutely floored, obliterated, GONE, WRECKED- ok, to be fair, he LOVED your design and after you said your first line, he was smitten. Will hunt down ANY crumbs about your story, past, present and future; in case you have a tragic tale, despite his claims about not giving a shit, he will be quite understanding and i’m not the one to tell you, and you’re not one to know but he may or may not have shed a tear or two.

Wishing!

Screams “FUCK YES!” When your trailer is revealed, has your OST on blast in his room; despite your banner coming up WHILE he’s working, he will wait until he gets back home to throw all his wishes to you.  Loudest out of everyone when it comes the time to pull on your banner. Everyone will know the moment he gets you. C6 you a week after getting you first, he wanted to ensure he likes your playstyle that people sing praises to. He fucking LOVES IT. Scaramouche also gets surprisingly lucky on his pulls to C6 you, wins his 50/50 almost every single time and gets your designated supports to c6 too. Had a respectable amount of wishes piled up JUST for you. He gets absolutely wrecked when it comes to your weapon tho- so much bloodshed on that banner, gets a couple of weapons to R5 before he gets yours.

Time to Play!

The bitch that refuses to make public his builds despite having really solid ones If you manage to see them however, you will NEVER see a (Y/N) better built in your life, those artifact rolls are the “see it to believe it” trope. He loves you so much is incredible.Will change his profile to ONLY show you and your build. Gets a reputation after some youtuber comes across his profile and fawns over that glorious build. He’s known as THE y/n main after that.High-key proud but won’t be caught dead saying that.

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Kept Jewel

A request done for @vilithshaven and @that-one-lilith <3 this was supposed to be out last night because i put it in queue but then later forgot to put it back there after editing it some fkjejjre

Fyi this is NOT sagau!!

Warnings: yandere content, minor character death of someone who's only there for two seconds, reader is implied afab and uses she/her pronouns, kidnapping and imprisonment.

For as long as you remember, your world had been full of vibrant, bright colors. The grass had always been green and the sky blue and the sun a glowy yellow and thus you had never suspected that it was rather unusual for someone so young to have already met their soulmate— that was because you didn't know about soulmates and the little connection between meeting their eyes for the same time, the world finally blooming in color for the two half-souls that had been separated long before their creation.

You had been an orphan, placed under the tender care of the elders of Higi Village. When you heard the tales they told, you merely assumed they were just that— fairy tales meant to brighten up the children's days and to give them a new game of pretending they could not see colors, using whatever words they could use to describe something without mentioning its color. 

Higi Village, before the curse of Tatarigami completely spread through the land and polluted everything in its wake, before the Vision Hunt Decree and the Sakuko Decree, had been happy to accept visitors and outlanders, often showing them the wonderful sights and the mines and all the cute little trinkets handmade from the ores. 

One such visitor had been the strangest person you'd met— a beautiful boy with long, midnight blue hair, eyes as purple as the Shogun's lightning and Electro yet he'd been so sweet and gentle you had felt ashamed of thinking of him like that. Kunikuzushi, he'd introduced himself, his smile making his eyes crinkle just the slightest bit. A wandering vagrant. 

He has entertaining tales to tell, little superstitions and stories from the rest of his travels and so in return you tell him of your own stories, laughing under your breath when you talk about soulmates and colors. Why wouldn't you? Color has always been visible in your life as far as you were aware, and thus that was more than enough proof for you that soulmates simply did not exist. 

Foolish, young and naive you remains unaware of the bright gleam in his eyes. 

He leaves, eventually. He is a vagrant and a traveller after all, and still has many places to see. He is not the first visitor to grace Higi Village nor is he the last, and so you forget him just as you have eventually forgotten all other visitors. 

But he has not forgotten you. 

He is unable to forget you, the one person who does not know about their soulmate's existence. The one who does not know about soulmates at all. 

That was more than alright for Kunikuzushi or as he goes by now, Scaramouche. You were his; you were clearly meant for him alone— he who has no soulmate, for he is a puppet more than a human and not even the archons can dictate which souls belong to one another, but Scaramouche knows that you and him are meant to be together for how else could you remain so oblivious to the truth if not for the threads tying you two so intricately? If you were meant for whoever had let you see, then they obviously weren't important enough if you have not met them ever again. 

You are his. So he returns to Higi Village, and at what an opportune time, too! The Tatarigami has truly and well stripped the island of all its previous glory, and all the Shogun and her little military had done was create a furnace to harness it, rather than ridding the island of it. All of it means he is right to come for you; he will take you away from this barren island to somewhere safe and secure, where only he may have have access to you—

He finds you amidst his musings, asleep and curled under the shade of a wilting sakura tree. A meagre shelter against the battering rain and the lightning striking the sky in a maelstrom of color, but shelter nonetheless. 

They've kicked you out just as I payed them to. Wonderful. 

He picks you up— and oh, you aren't asleep, but rather passed out. Your body is sweating and heated, and now that he is close enough he could hear how nasally your breath was. You are sick, he realizes with a chuckle. All the better for him, really. With you sick and weak and so clearly starved, it will be easy for him to convince you to stay with him.

And so he took you, sick and weak and vulnerable, back to a place he'd created solely for the two of you. You will be safe here, where nobody but him will ever interact with you; where your soulmate will never find you; where you are far too grateful to have a stable roof over your head and a warm meal three times a day to complain about Kunikuzushi being strangely affectionate with you. 

It makes something cold and uncomfortable curl in your stomach when he holds you, someone practically a stranger to you yet he adores you as though you've known him for centuries. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't eventually forgotten Kunikuzushi in the sea of visitors of Higi Village, but it appears that he has not forgotten you— each night you find yourself in his arms despite how uncomfortable you are, listening to his awful whispers of how he'll keep you by his side for all eternity, of how beautiful you look and how you belong to him.

But it is either this or being left to fend for yourself on an island that is no longer suitable for living and that has kicked you out— you both know this, and so you bite down on your tongue and let him be as affectionate and controlling with you as he wants even if it feels stifling and scary at times.

Scaramouche is not fond of leaving you alone in the mansion, but sometimes needs must. Sure he can order any of the maids that have strict instructions not to ever show their face to interact with you, but he does not yet trust you and them enough not to try and pull some stunt to escape, despite how well-behaved you are and how you're slowly starting to lean into his touches, smiling just a bit and no longer always asking to go outside.

He's sure you'd be horrified if you realized you've come to like your kidnapper caretaker's company, so he doesn't bring it up but nonetheless it still makes him quite smug and all the more convinced of his beliefs. 

He wants your every second of wakefulness and otherwise, he wants your attention and your focus and everything that you have to give and everything that he has to take— these are all reasons why he hates leaving you, but he's still a Harbinger and he has duties to fulfil for her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa of Zapolyarny Palace, and among those duties is pest control. 

Certain agents have less loyalty than they should, and some of them often try to do a funny little thing where they sell information to other groups in and outside of the nation of everlasting winter. These agents need to be put down, so to speak, and Scaramouche is here just to do so and then return back to you, his dear unknowing wife.

The Fatui have long since marked out the location of their little hideout, so Scaramouche does not need dally by searching around before he and some of his own men are already tearing it apart, the little traitors soon captured and presented to him. 

He orders the rest, save for their Inazuman leader, to be killed. Let him see what will be his fate as well, he thinks with a nasty chuckle. 

Scaramouche is thinking of you even here— he hopes you haven't gotten bored of all the books he's left for you, or perhaps you're now doing some embroidery? Hmm, while he can't have you speaking with others that doesn't mean he can't give you a little pet to spend your days with— 

Scaramouche doesn’t give the leader a chance to beg for mercy before his Electro has surged through his hands and catalyst. The sooner he kills this little pest, the sooner he can get you back in his arms. 

He expects many things for his return— he does not expect to find you crying and panicking, pacing in circles in your lavish bedroom. Upon seeing him, he is further surprised by you throwing your arms around him and sobbing. 

"Beloved, what's wrong? Has anybody hurt you?-" 

"Kuni, I- I can't see colors anymore, I can't what color is the sky or- or what color your eyes are, everything's black and white," your voice shakes and trembles with your cries. "Why can't I- why can't I see?" 

Scaramouche's mind is reeling with just how good this opportunity is. Your soulmate is dead, and now you can truly, fully belong to him. 

He pulls you even closer, making soft shushing noises and caressing your hair. "I don't know, darling," he lies as easily as breathing— even easier, as he doesn't really need to do the latter to live. "Calm down, my beloved, I'll try to search for a cure and an answer. But for now, stay with me?" 

You are still crying, but that's alright: Scaramouche gathers you in his arms and pretends expertly as though he's as confused and worried as you are when in truth he's quite happy about this new development. 

"Oh my darling wife, it's alright, I have you now," he keeps murmuring to you, smug in the way you don't protest but nod your head. Oh dear, it truly is bothering you huh? "You belong to me, I'll keep you safe and sound, my love. Only stay good for me. . ." 

He takes you to your bed, slow and steady to keep you from asking him to leave. He does not falter in telling you little "assurances", but if the way you keep yourself so unusually close to his side then he knows that you find comfort in his presence and his words. 

Mine. He thinks with delight at feeling you still crying yet keeping your arms around him, so desperate for his comfort and who is he to deny his lovely wife anything her heart wants? 

You're my soulmate. 

---

Imagine being a Kamisato and trying to elope with Scaramouche. 

Your beloved is waiting for you in the lush gardens, waiting to spirit you away from the oppressive air of Inazuma, and you’ve been exceedingly quiet as you tiptoe through the darkened hallways of your family home. Freedom is so close, you can practically smell it. And just as you’re opening the sliding door with baited breath, it’s your older brother who confronts you.

“Leaving already?”

At first, you think that he’ll object as he studies your features, pale in the moonlight and glazed with terror. Ayato’s eyes meet yours, and for an instant, you could swear that he reads your thoughts clearly as words on a page. His eyes narrow, but after a moment he sighs and stands aside, with a soft, sad smile on his face.

“Visit us when you can.”

---

for scara "am i bothering you, my lord? i just felt really lonely..." 🙏

notes: yandere, afab reader, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome

There’s a hand on your head before you know it. A firm presence that strokes, calming and possessive. You don’t have to look up from your position on the floor, carefully kneeling on a cushion next to his seat, to know what expression is is on his face. Possessive and pleased. A smile, though not exactly a nice one, even on his better days. 

You lean into his touch and shift on the cushion, hoping to get more comfortable. If he hasn’t kicked you out already, it means he’s in a good enough mood. You might be able to coax him into a walk in the gardens later, if you play your cards right. 

And you do so want to play your cards right with your husband. 

You don’t know when exactly everything began to shift. When you stopped feeling like your stomach was constantly empty, being twisted and pulled in every direction. When your everyday activities morphed from anxiety-inducing expectations into simple habits. 

When you stopped feeling like a captive and started feeling like a wife. 

Was it when you felt ill, and he deigned to stay by you through the worst of it? Spooning broth into your mouth and wiping your face with cool, amp rags? A soft, affectionate move that had caught you by surprise. The gestures had seemed foreign on his face, and you wondered for ages whether or not one of your ladies or perhaps a servant had suggested it to him.

Was it when he offhandedly confessed that the thought of entertaining a particular traveling noble made him want to electrify his own eyes out, and the pair of you conspired to get the man drunk--and thus, off to bed and out of his hair--as quickly as possible? It was childish, silly even. You poured cup after cup and Scaramouche said nothing as his guest became absolutely sloshed. That night you even laughed about it together, snickering, warm under the covers of your shared bed.

Little moments, bit by bit, that paved over the reality of your situation and gave it something more palatable in your mind. Something you could work with and live with, possibly even enjoy. 

And if you no longer shy away from his hands, if you call him husband without a bitter taste on your lips, if you do your best to keep him pleased and reap the results... can you be blamed? 

You know it’s wrong. Deep down. You’re not stupid. 

If you think about your situation for too long, you know what you’ll find. Underneath the layers of crafted moments, the shiny veneer that you’ve painted onto your heart. 

You’ll find a different you that wants to positively scream and fight at every turn. A different you that wants to throw up at the thought of being around Scaramouche willingly, one that would never initiate affection... much less crave it from his hands. A different you that bore his punishments, his stings and shocks, grinding your teeth to avoid giving him the satisfaction of audible pain. 

But you can’t live like that forever. You tried. You tried for as long as you could, rebelling against him, rebelling against the life he’d forced you into. You were tired of being pushed down, mentally and physically. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling like you’d never escape.

So now? You don’t want to escape. 

Now you want him to touch you, to praise you. To shower you with gifts, though he still holds them over your head if he finds you’re being too needy. What do you need to see your family for, when he’s just gifted you an expansion to the gardens or a much-coveted visit to a local festival? 

Now you want to peel back the layers of Scaramouche, taking them off like marital robes, until you reach the Kunikuzushi underneath. Imperfect and clay-like. Unfinished. You want to see what makes him work and makes him stall and fill the gaps in him with something of yourself.

“My wife is lonely,” he murmurs, and his fingers still in your hair. “I’ll have to rectify that, won’t I?” 

You look up, finally, and your stomach doesn’t twist at the sight of his lidded eyes gazing down at you. Instead, your heart feels lighter and you reach up with your own fingers to intertwine them in his.

“But you already have.” 

---