#first off being the fact that the relationship between the knight and the girl is forbidden by templar laws

[currentlyonstandbi]

i dont have the energy to articulate this point any better, the 9-month time skip should’ve had sally find it was nigel’s grave dug up and the skull taken and it WOULD’VE if the director wasn’t a coward. argue with a wall

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Homesickness.

Pairing: Yandere!Silver x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 1.6k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @felix-the-lemon-king.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Physical Intimidation, Arranged Marriages, and Manipulation.

“You’re going to miss the ball, beloved.”

You flinched into yourself as you heard his voice, accompanied by the sound of clipped heels against stone floors and the slight reverberation of both disruptions against barren walls. A foolish, naïve part of you had convinced the rest that a royal guard – no, a general would have too much pride to be found absent from his own betrothal celebrations, let alone be seen in a servant’s hall, but you should’ve known better. There were many in Briar Valley who let their pride distort their vision, countless who allowed their rank and titles to overshadow even their most basic sense of rationality. Silver was, tragically, not among them.

And Silver was, tragically, the only resident of the valley you were engaged to.

You didn’t rush to respond. Patiently, you counted the seconds until he was standing at the base of the stairwell you’d took refuge in – not unlike the way you used to hide in spare bedrooms and vacant parlors as a child, whenever your parents were entertaining guests who had too many questions about your pointed ears and the scales on the backs of your hands. And, tangentially, you couldn’t say the bolt of dread that would always strike your chest when you heard you parents calling you out of that day’s chosen hiding place was totally dissimilar to the fear that knotted in the back of your throat as Silver stepped into your line of sight, coming to stand in the doorway at the stairwell’s base. He was still dressed in his regalia, his clothing evenly divided between the pitch-black armor of the royal guards and the formal attire that would be expected, given the occasion. His sword was sheathed at his waist – a sight that, weeks ago, might’ve made you somewhat wary, but that you’d since grown desensitized to. No part of you found comfort in the fact that he seemed to be constantly within arm’s reach of a weapon, but it was hard to be scared of something he never seemed to draw.

It took him a moment to find you in the darkness, his eyes more limited by it than your own, but he seemed to soften as his gaze finally landed on you. “You’ll miss the ball,” he repeated, his tone concerned rather than irritated. Another small blessing – for a knight, your betrothed seemed remarkably slow to anger. “Is something wrong? I know Malleus took charge of the arrangements, but if something doesn’t suit your preferences, I can—”

“It’s beautiful,” you assured, because it was. Because it had been. Because for any little girl from the Briar Valley or any other fae land had been in your place, this all would’ve been nothing short of a dream come true, but you weren’t a little girl, and you weren’t from Briar Valley, and you found very few things beautiful about the idea of getting married at all, let alone to a man you had only recently met. “It’s only…” You curled your hands around the fabric of your own attire. “I’m afraid I’m just… not very good at parties, I guess. I’m sorry.”

You half-expected Silver to frown, to urge you back to the banquet hall he’d come from, but he only sighed, shaking his head in a sympathetic sort of way before taking to the stairs and seating himself beside you, leaving a measured gap between your body and his. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re not used to being here, just yet.” He paused, flashed a small smile in your direction. Even at the best of times, you struggled to read his expression – not because he was overly cold, but because he always seemed to radiate that same uncanny, only a touch above off-putting warmth. At least a portion of it had to be insincere. Fae or human, there wasn’t a person alive who could be so consistently affable. “It took me months to adjust, the first time I left the valley. Everything was so alien – if I hadn’t been travelling with my father, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a day.”

It was difficult, but you did your best to smile, to laugh. Although your pairing had seemed strange at first, it did make a twisted kind of sense – a fae born without magic, raised by the human nobility of a country with only negligible ties to Briar Valley, arranged to marry a human with magical prowess in spades, raised in service of a fae king, for the mutual benefit of their homelands. You wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it was a part of some elaborate joke, the type it was rumored your kin were so fond of. It was only unfortunate that you had to be the target of their humor.

“The dark bothers me more than anything,” you admitted, before you could think better of it. “Where I come from, it’s almost always sunny. Having to live someplace without light and with so little warmth—” And so many cruel faces, and so many gnashing teeth, “—I suppose I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“It’s not always like this.” It was the most eagerly you’d ever seen him speak. “You’ve come during a poor season for it, but the view from the castle’s highest tower on a clear day is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and the valley’s coasts get much more sun. I’ve heard they tend to hold their festivals around this time of year, too.” He seemed to pause, to consider, then went on, “After the wedding, I’d be my pleasure to take you to one.”

At that, you let yourself relax. He was aloof, sure, but he was kind, too. You could be thankful for that, if nothing else. “I was planning to return home as soon as possible, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer.”

“Of course.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought you heard him moving closer to you. “Malleus suggested we continue to stay in the castle while you settle, but… it would be nice, if we had our own home.”

Your delicate smile wavered. “Silver, I know we haven’t talked about this but—”

“Unless you’d like to stay here, I mean. But, I’d still like to show you the cabin where—”

“Silver,” you tried, again, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I meant that I’m not going to stay in the valley at all after the wedding. I understand why I’ve been asked to marry you, and it’s not that I haven’t enjoyed my time here, but—” Another laugh, a pleading glance in his direction. “I don’t belong here, as you wouldn’t belong anywhere but Briar Valley. You know that, don’t you?”

Now, it was Silver’s turn to go quiet. When you found the nerve to look toward him, you found him staring blankly ahead, his lips ever so slightly quirked downward. Huh.

So that was what he looked like, after he’d gone cold.

You didn’t see him draw his sword. His hand was on his hilt, grip tight enough to bleed the color from his knuckles, and then, your back was pressed against the harsh slant of the staircase, the flat of his blade pressed to the base of your throat and Silver above you. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You might’ve forgotten to breathe, too, if you hadn’t been shocked enough to let out a single, airy gasp – just loud enough to be audible.

“After the wedding,” he started, speaking slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid you might not understand. “I think you should remain in the valley, with me. I’ll build us a house – a cabin not far from the castle – and you’ll be safe and warm for as long as I can take care of you. Would you like that?”

You opened your mouth, but suddenly couldn’t remember how to move your tongue. Silver angled his wrist, the slant of his blade pressing into tender flesh. “Would you like that, beloved?”

“I---” You forced yourself to swallow, to shut your eyes. “I want to go home, Silver.”

This time, you felt something razor-sharp and frigid bite into the skin just below your jawline, drawing the thinnest possible trail of blood. “And you will.” Then, after a measured pause, “And that home will be with me.”

He wasn’t cruel enough to make you say it aloud. All it took was a quick nod, a pathetically fractured whimper, and he was drawing back, returning his sword to its sheath as he pushed himself to his feet. There was no mention of swords or cabins or the blood now dripping down your neck – only long, weighted look, the implications of which you didn’t wish to examine. “Stay here.” Almost reflexively, you moved to stand, but all it took was a tilt of his head and a flash of his blade to have you falling back into place, paralyzed. “I’ll tell Malleus that you won’t be returning. When I’m finished, we’ll return to our chambers together.”

You hadn’t formerly been sharing chambers, but pointing that out felt redundant, if not entirely useless.

You watched as he started to turn away, only to hesitate and return to you. With a deliberate kind of slowness, he lowered himself onto one knee in front of you, taking your limp hand in his. “Of all the people I could’ve been betrothed to, I’ve found myself increasingly glad that I’m betrothed to you.”

His smile was warmer than it ever had been, and yet, you’d never felt so cold.

“And, eventually, I know you’ll feel the same.”

[rrxnjun]

blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun

pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms

playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.

Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 

“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.

“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”

Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”

“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”

The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”

Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 

However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 

Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.

Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.

Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.

The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 

This is not how you imagined your morning to go.

Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.

“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.

Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 

You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.

Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 

The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.

“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”

Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.

Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.

“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”

Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 

“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 

The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.

Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.

“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 

This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.

“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.

Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 

“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”

You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.

“We can figure that out later.”

Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.

You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.

Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.

“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.

Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”

“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”

Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 

“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 

The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…

You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.

You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.

Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.

Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”

“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.

“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 

Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.

The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 

“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”

Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.

The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 

Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”

Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.

The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.

“I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 

He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.

The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 

You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 

He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 

Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.

“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.

Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.

You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 

“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.

…and the old Renjun is back.

Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.

Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”

“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 

“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?

Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 

Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.

“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 

But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.

“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.

“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.

Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.

“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”

“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.

“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 

“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”

Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 

Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.

“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.

You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.

Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 

Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 

Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”

Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.

Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.

“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”

Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 

When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”

“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.

“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.

“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 

Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”

While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 

After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.

The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.

Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.

“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”

“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”

The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.

Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.

Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.

“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”

“Why didn’t you get one, then?”

“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.

He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 

“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 

“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”

There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.

In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.

You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 

All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.

“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.

“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.

“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”

“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.

“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”

The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.

Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 

Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 

Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.

“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.

You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.

“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”

“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.

“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.

He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.

And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.

“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”

“Okay and?”

“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.

Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”

“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”

“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.

“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.

“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”

To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.

The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.

Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”

“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”

Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 

The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.

“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.

“No, thank you!”

And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.

What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.

“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”

“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.

“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.

“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.

He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.

“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”

Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.

“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.

“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.

“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”

“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”

“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.

“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”

Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.

“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”

Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”

Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.

Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.

You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 

Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 

Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”

“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.

“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.

“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.

“Why?”

“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”

“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.

“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.

“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.

The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.

A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.

After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.

Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.

“Hyuck!”

“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.

“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 

You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 

“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.

“Ah! Hello!”

You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.

“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.

“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.

“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 

“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 

The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.

He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 

And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.

You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.

“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 

Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.

“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 

“What about your friends–”

“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.

“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 

You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.

The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.

“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.

“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 

“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.

“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”

“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.

“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 

Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.

You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.

“Was it because of Yunjin?” 

The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.

“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”

Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”

His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”

Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.

“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”

Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”

“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”

You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 

“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.

“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.

The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.

In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 

Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”

Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 

You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.

After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.

“Hello!”

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.

“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.

The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.

And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.

–

Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 

Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.

Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.

“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 

“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.

“Don’t you want the latest one?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.

“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.

“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”

Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.

Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.

“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.

To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 

“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?

“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”

“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 

“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”

“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.

“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”

“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.

Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.

“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.

“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.

On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 

The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.

It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 

Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.

And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.

You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.

“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 

The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.

“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.

“Do you even like anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.

“I like spring too, actually.”

“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.

“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.

“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”

“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”

“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.

The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.

“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.

“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 

Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 

Or maybe you won’t.

Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.

“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”

“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.

“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.

“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”

He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”

Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”

“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.

Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.

“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.

“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.

“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”

“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 

“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”

Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.

His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 

“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.

“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.

Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”

“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”

“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.

Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.

After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.

Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 

“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.

Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”

“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.

“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.

“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.

“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 

“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.

“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”

Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 

Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 

“Does it look good?”

“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”

“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.

“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 

There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 

“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 

His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.

“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 

“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 

Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.

Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 

It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.

“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 

He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.

Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.

Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.

“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.

Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.

A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.

Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 

Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 

His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.

He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.

“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.

“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.

Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.

His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.

“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 

In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.

Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 

“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.

“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.

He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.

His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”

He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.

He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.

Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.

Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.

You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.

Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”

“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.

“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.

“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.

And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.

Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”

As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.

And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 

“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.

If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.

When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.

Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.

After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.

You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.

And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 

And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.

The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 

It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 

You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 

Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.

Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.

Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…

However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 

You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.

“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.

You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 

The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 

“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”

You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.

“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.

“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 

It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.

“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”

Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 

Your words fail you.

“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 

The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.

A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”

Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”

Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”

“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”

Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 

“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 

“Look, I–” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”

And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.

“It’s just…?”

“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.

“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.

Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 

“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.

“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.

There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 

He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 

He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 

He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 

He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.

In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.

You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 

[btr-rewatch]

Big Time Rush Season 1, Episode 14: “Big Time Dance”

Highlights: Lots of weirdness happening as the guys set up the first annual Palm Woods School Dance. Also, the first appearance of our friend Fabio!

It's the end of the year, and finals week is wrapping up at the Palm Woods School. After announcing the upcoming, notoriously boring class party, BTR suggests that they have a dance. A real one, with music and dates and NOT Bitters making awful balloon animals. Mrs. Collins agrees, but there are a few small obstacles to overcome first, such as the fact that they need to find chaperones, come up with a theme and decorations, get food, and find a place to hold the dance by that night. Oh, and there's no money available to spend on it.

The boys will find a way to pull it off, though.

Btw, this classroom is absolutely ridiculous. Those desks are packed together so tightly that I'm almost certain it's against both room occupancy regulations and fire code.

Look at that tiny sliver of space between Kendall's and James's desks. If there was an emergency, none of these kids would be able to promptly and safely evacuate without stumbling over desks and backpacks. They'd probably end up trampling each other. So many violations happening in this room. There's no way this classroom setup is legal.

After school ends, the guys get to work planning the dance. Jo is happy when she spots Kendall approaching, as she naturally assumes that he's going to ask her to be his date. Though, if you recall "Big Time Party," you know that his approach to inviting Jo in that episode involved asking her to be his, "guest, friend, person-thing." Quite frankly, Jo's hopes shouldn't be so high.

Somehow, Kendall manages to do an even worse job this time around and simply tells Jo to get snacks and sodas for the dance. Jo's reaction is understandable.

She's trying so hard to remember why she has a crush on this guy.

After being told by Bitters that they can't have the dance at the Palm Woods, Logan does some quick research and finds them a great deal at a warehouse in L.A.'s "Murder District." (they decide to pass on this deal)

Surprisingly, Gustavo says they can have the dance at Rocque Records under the condition that they perform at it. They agree, then run off to find dates. Well, James, Carlos, and Logan do. Kendall tries to be responsible and wants to find chaperones. Carlos strikes out with each of the Jennifers, then heads to the park to ask any other girls he can find. James decides to help Logan ask out Camille.

He also mentions that Camille's a good choice because she isn't his (James's) type, and can I just say that I kind of disagree with that? In fact, Camille might be the most compatible girl for James in terms of the recurring female characters we see on the show. She's just as high-maintenance, emotional, and passionate as he is, and I think they could have had an interesting relationship.

Or maybe they're too much alike and would have ended up killing each other. Idk.

Logan musters up every ounce of confidence he has within him and manages to do this

Commendable attempt, Logie.

Over in 2J, Mrs. Knight agrees to chaperone the dance, then loses her cool and promptly flees the scene when Katie suggests she should find a date to bring. Kendall asks when the last time was that their mother went on a date, and Katie says when she was three.

Not gonna delve TOO deeply into the Knight family headcanons, but for Mama Knight to have been in the dating world when Katie was that young, it means Mr. Knight had been out of the picture for quite some time already. Probably just after (or even a little before) Katie was born?

Meanwhile, Carlos is at the park, looking at girls through binoculars like a weirdo.

The Jennifers approach and tell him that they want to be his date to the dance. Except they don't want him to go as himself. Instead, they've all prepared alternate personalities that he must embody and rotate through during the night. Very normal behavior.

Gonna skim over some stuff because this episode has so many different storylines going on at once, but basically: Carlos is roped into being three difference people at the dance, James keeps inadvertently inviting random girls to be his date while trying to help Logan, and Logan manages to ask Camille out with the aid of cue cards, but she turns him down because she doesn't want his invitation to be coached.

Additionally, Kendall and Katie are struggling to find their mom a date. After almost setting her up with Bitters and bombarding her with a plethora of attention from a horde of handsome doctors, she tells them she'll only go on a date with the man who is on the cover of one of her romance novels. Of course, she does this assuming it'll be an impossible task for them, but nothing is impossible for Kendall and Katie.

They're adorable and I love them so much

They head down to the lobby to use the computer to track down Fabio (Kendall doesn't have his own laptop??) and I can't get over the way Kendall just shoves the guy already seated at the computer out of the way.

This is some First Episode Kendall behavior, honestly.

They manage to get in touch with Fabio, hold him hostage in the bathroom, and convince him to go out with their mom. Kendall also fumbles another opportunity to ask Jo to the dance, and Logan faces several other failures trying to ask Camille.

We go the dance later that night, where Carlos quickly crumbles under the pressure of being three different guys and ends up with Stephanie. I always really liked her btw, and I wish she would have stayed on the show as Carlos's long-term girlfriend. They were cute together.

Logan finally finds success in asking Camille to be his date.

Kendall finds Jo and asks her to dance, but Jo is still upset at the fact that Kendall never actually invited her to be his date. Kendall replies that he didn't ask because he just assumed they were already together. It's sweet, but I think these two need to work on their communication skills.

The guys perform "Stuck" (great song), James gets chased by the angry mob of girls he accidentally asked out over the course of the day, and we close the episode with everyone having fun on the dance floor.

Cannot believe so many shenanigans unfolded over the course of just a handful of hours. I wonder if time doesn't progress in the same way in the BTR universe as it does in the Real World. I mean, as it is, their world is barely governed by the same rules and basic scientific principles as our own is. Impossible scenarios are just everyday occurances to them, and absolutely absurd happenings don't even make them blink.

Honestly, the world of BTR is a scary one. Gustavo's marketing team shock-tests people for research. Sexist coffee makers try to murder you with foam. Doctor Hollywood is out there actually giving people medical advice. Children are packed in school rooms like sardines, with no hope of escape if a fiery inferno consumes the building.

Well...anyway! Silly episode! See you next time :)

[theshenami]

On the remarkably consistent childhood friends to lovers romantic trope in the Final Fantasy series

Following my playthrough for FF7 Rebirth, I have been thinking about romantic tropes in the FF series more broadly. The stories that have romantic relationships that develop between the main cast (or at least guest party members) seem to all follow the childhood friends (or, at least, childhood/family connections) to lovers trope. Just wanted to list the examples I can think of that follow this paradigm. (Disclaimer, I have never completed FF6, so cannot speak to that game).

FF3: Ingus and Sara grow up together in Sasune castle, and become a couple at the end, with Ingus declaring that he will follow her anywhere and stay by her side. This is the well-known trope of the knight and princess falling in love.

FF4: Cecil and Rosa grow up together along with Kain, with whom they are in a love triangle. Kain sort of runs off in the end because he can't deal with the other two being together at the story's end.

FF7: I know, it's really the only debatable one due to the narrative and affection mechanics of the OG, but the plot clearly shows that Cloud and Tifa have harbored romantic feelings since childhood, and they are obviously a couple raising a family together in AC and DoC. ToTP and OTWTAS delve further into their feelings, but are really just the devs clearing up things they did/could not get into in the OG. The remake trilogy adds more depth to the relationship as well, since Square couldn't really use tone of voice or body language in the OG to express the clear romantic chemistry and tension between them in the first two trilogy entries. In fact, it is so obvious that other characters and party members actively bring it up (Marle, Johnny, Yuffie, Barrett, even Aerith at times).

FF8: This one is a childhood/family connection one, as Squall and Rinoa's parents had a unresolved love story. It's a bit of stretch, I know, but it does loosely fit in with the other couples' arcs.

FF10: Similar to FF8, this one involves Tidus and Yuna having a connection through their fathers' having been comrades during Yuna's father's pilgrimage 10 years prior to the main story. Yuna even goes so far as to state that it must be fate that brought them together, during their voyage from Besaid to Kilika. It is worth noting that this one is a two-fer, since Wakka and Lulu are also childhood friends who become lovers, especially if you incorporate the 10-2 subplot in which Lulu is literally pregnant with Wakka's child.

FF12: This one only hints at two childhood-friends-to-lovers couples. Basch and Ashe have history as it seems he was a knight in the Dalmascan military when they were both younger, and their history is hinted at rather than directly addressed as in other games. It is suggested that they may develop romantic feelings some time after the main story ends, but are both bound by duty to be apart. Vaan and Penelo fit the childhood friends to lovers trope much better, but their relationship is only ever implied: Balthier constantly teases Vaan about Penelo by calling her "your girl" multiple times (which Vaan never refutes), and the final scene of the game is literally Vaan returning to her as he says "I'm coming Penelo".

FF13: Snow and Serah are the childhood friends to lovers couple here, and they do end up together in the end if you ignore the two sequel storylines.

FF15: Noctis and Luna start off as childhood friends destined to have an arranged marriage, but they develop strong romantic feelings for each other despite being apart for several years (yet again, by tragedies befalling their families/homes), and are reunited in their love both in adulthood and in the afterlife.

FF16: This one is another two-fer, with the obvious pairing of Clive and Jill growing up together and having romantic feelings as children, then being forced apart due to tragic circumstances (anyone sensing a theme here?), only to be reunited and fall in love as adults. This one mirrors FF7 quite a bit, complete with the memory loss narrative elements where Clive and Cloud both forget about the key roles they played in their respective childhood tragedies, only to rediscover the truth while on a journey of self-discovery where they battle with their own subconscious to rediscover their true pasts, with their childhood love interests at their sides. As a bonus, Jill also goes through her own journey of self-discovery at Drake's Breath with Clive at her side, much like Tifa does together with Cloud in the Lifestream. The less prominent pairing is Dion and Terence, who mirror the FF3 arc of Ingus and Sara, with the knight and prince (rather than princess, bold move SE) declaring their mutual love by story's end.

Please let me know if I missed/misrepresented anything, and I hope you find this remarkable consistency in the childhood-friends-to-lovers trope in the FF series as interesting as I do.

[sapphire-weapon]

another broke take i keep seeing is that ashley develops feelings for leon but that it’s not mutual, which is dumb bc even if leon isn’t as open about it (the ‘running from creeps’ and ‘good company’ lines notwithstanding), his body language is very telling imo.

holding on to her a little longer than he needs to during the church escape, touching her shoulder to check on her (when they’re saved by luis) or in reassurance (post-stabbing), gently cupping her head and tracing his fingers down her arm, reaching for her face again when she’s on the altar, grabbing her hand to pull her into the lift, and the way he always stops to help her up with both arms when she’s downed by enemies

even the fact that he’s literally being paid to protect her can’t justify the tenderness of all these little touches. i highly doubt “touch the president’s daughter like she’s the only thing that keeps you going” was in his job description. don’t even get me started on his boyish, almost bashful, “i can catch ya” like literally what the fuck

I think, after being forced into the shadows for eighteen fucking years by this fandom -- and by Aeon fans especially -- I've been hesitant to make any definitive statements on Leon and Ashley's relationship outside of its effects on Leon's character arc (and reaffirming over and over and over again that Ashley disappears from the series, as though to soothe people's reactions??).

But I was on discord talking to @godtier earlier, and once I actually said it out loud and then actually got an agreement from someone who could not be paid to give a fucking shit about this ship -- I'm just going to go ahead and say it for the wider fandom.

Resident Evil 4 Remake was written as a romance, and the romance is between Leon and Ashley.

With the new scenes they've added in, it's literally structured like a romance story is. I'll even outline it for you.

1) Call to Adventure / The Meet Cute

Literally their first meeting in the church, culminating with the catch and that moment of longing as they lock eyes while Leon continues to hold her just a few seconds too long.

2) Refusal of the Call / Rejection of the Relationship

At first, Leon treats Ashley solely as his mission objective. ("Hey can we take a break?" "Sorry, we need to keep moving.") And Ashley, for a good bit, doesn't trust him at all but goes with him because she has no other choice. ("Seriously, this cannot be happening.")

3) Acceptance of the Quest / Giving the relationship a chance

The escape from the cabin sequence up to the "seems this isn't your first time running from creeps." line. This is where we see them actually start to warm up to each other, and Ashley, for the first time, believes Leon can and will really get her out of there.

4) Trials and Temptations / Three Dates

The three dates are:

1) Ashley busting the window open after the Mendez boss fight, helping brush the embers off of Leon, and helping to pull him to his feet

2) Salazar's introduction ("The girl's just fine. With me.")

3) The road to the Water Hall (Leon jumping across the chandeliers + this is the first time the "knight and the princess" allegory is stated)

5) Midpoint Crisis / I-need-you-but-can’t-have-you

The stab followed by Ashley running away in tears, terrified of hurting Leon again and horrified that he saw her like that. This is also the second time that the "knight and the princess" allegory is stated.

6) The Road Back / Pulling Back Together

The pep talk. Leon is openly vulnerable for the first time ever in this game, and Ashley is grateful to have him with her. Note that Luis calls Leon "Prince Charming" immediately following this scene.

7) The Fall

Ashley stating "I won't run. Wait for me, Leon." And then Leon following up with the "I can catch ya" line.

8) Dark moment / The Break Up

Leon sitting at Ashley's bedside waiting to turn and ready to shoot himself. He's already half given up, and some part of him has started to believe that they won't actually make it out of here -- not together, at least.

9) The Sacrifice

"This time, it has to be different." Leon is forced to challenge the assertion by Ada and Krauser that he hasn't changed, and he even has to prove it to himself. He destroys Ashley's plaga, holding her hand the whole time, smiles breathlessly, then collapses to the floor.

10) Declaration

"Hey... we're a team, right?" "Keep this up? I'll be out of a job."

11) The HEA

Leon and Ashley literally ride off into the sunrise together towards a happily ever after.

The original RE4 is not structured this way. Even if I tried to, I couldn't slot Leon and Ashley's scenes from OG into this outline.

And the romance angle is reinforced over and over and over again through repeated use of the "knight and the princess" allegory beyond what I've even listed in the outline. You know, the fairy tales about the knight who saves the princess and they fall in love and live happily ever after. In addition to Salazar saying it, there's the "Prince Charming" line from Luis, Ashley references it when she jokes that Leon should literally put on the knight's armor -- and, on a meta level, Leon has a fucking fantasy hero costume.

There's even goddamn dialogue in the game where Ashley says to Leon, "I knew you'd come" -- which is basically just ripped right out of the Princess Bride.

And to continue the meta reinforcement of it, Leon and Ashley literally have a matching set of alternate costumes called "Romantic" -- and they are fucking Romeo & Juliet inspired. Come the fuck on, man. They couldn't have been more on the nose about it if they'd tried.

And this is in addition to all the other shit you already pointed out in your ask.

And there's the fact that they completely removed any hint of Ada possibly even remotely being a love interest for Leon in this game. The focus remains solely on Ashley and the bond that she and Leon build together.

Leon and Ashley's relationship in RE4 Remake is canonically romantic in nature, and I'm so fucking tired of pretending like it's not.

[vvallent1ne]

THE HEIRESS - genshin impact

summary: Being the Heiress of the Cryo Archon, more commonly known as the Tsaritsa, was no easy task. Which is precisely why the Archon hand-picked a lowly, Monstandtian, Visionless girl.

… meet Feyre, the local bookworm of Mondstadt!

chap. II: the descent down the mountain brings the anamnesis of at-hand acquaintances

chap. I - chap. II - chap. III (IN PROGRESS)

wc: 5k

THE trek down the mountain was but a normal one at the most. Albedo took the initiative to stay squarely in front of Feyre, mayhaps to shield her from any open threats. Feyre, being behind her mentor, was able to admire him brazenly. His hair seemed so ... soft. Was it real? Or was it just synthetic, much like the rest of him? Albedo had informed the girl of his true nature not too long ago, while Feyre was working on bringing a sweet flower back to life. She was shocked, to say the least. Though, some part of her always felt off around him. Not in any major way to affect their relationship or how she viewed him, but just a small feeling in her gut. That the person she was talking to, the person she assisted, the person she was taught by, was in fact, not a real human. It sometimes made her feel uneasy whenever she thought about that night. The way his voice was unwavering as he revealed his deepest secrets to her, bared his entire being in front of her. The hushed whispers, the candid words, the fleeting touches. She shivered at the memory.

She wondered what it would be like to be aware that you were not truly alive—just...breathing. She felt a pang of pity in her heart for her mentor. She, herself, had not really known what living was until she met Albedo. Oh, how alluring he was. Feyre was trapped in his presence like a fly in a spider's web. They first met not too long ago, maybe when she was 17. She was going up into Dragonspine in order to pick some extra mint for a homemade remedy she was crafting. Well, technically, she met Sucrose first, but then came him.

She had just bent down to pick the last of the mint before she heard the sound of snow crunching, as well as clothes rubbing together. She could faintly hear the sound of jewelry clanking in the slight breeze. Her mind shocked her into defense mode. She'd had a dream like this before. It was that same Fatui agent in almost all of her dreams, binding her wrists and dragging her away by her hair. She refused to go down without a fight. She grabbed the hilt of her sword, a pathetic weapon to have if not used with a vision. She gripped the handle like a vice, her body freezing mid-stand. She paused for a second. So did the person. She then turned around as quick as a hare and pounced on the individual, pinning them to the ground.

Feyre was 100% not expecting a green haired, glasses wearing, meek alchemist to be under her. She immediately recognized the girl as Sucrose, Kaeya had mentioned her in a few conversations while he talked to her about his new job at the Knights of Favonius. He said that she was a shy little thing with a tendency to grow embarrassed or flustered by the smallest things. Feyre could relate to her on some level.

After recognition hit Feyre like a freight train, she climbed off of the shaking girl and stood up, offering her hand out to the alchemist.

"I am so sorry. I thought you were ... well, I actually don't know, but ..." She trailed off, silencing herself before she could ramble on again. The green-haired girl took her hand and lifted herself up, readjusting her uniform. She repositioned her glasses as a small smile split on her mouth. Feyre then recalled what Kaeya had said about her tendency to grow flustered, and looked at her cheeks. Low and behold, the alchemist was blushing furiously. The contrast between the red of her cheeks, the green of her hair, and the porcelain of her skin was a beautiful sight, Feyre decided. This thought caused her cheeks to erupt in heat as well.

"It's alright, I understand. I'm sorry for sneaking up on you like that, It's just ... I saw you picking mint and wanted to ask what it was for," The green-haired girl confessed, her eyes glued to the snow next to her shoes. Feyre realized that she wasn't one for eye contact either, and was thankful for this fact. After a few beats of silence, mostly caused because of Feyre admiring the sight of the alchemist's face, the said girl interjected worriedly. "You don't have to answer that! I totally understand if you think I'm strange for sneaking up on you, It's just that I thought maybe you were interested in alchemy as well, and if you happened to be researching the same things as me and-" The girl's rambling was promptly cut off by Feyre's calmly spoken words.

"Don't worry. I don't think you're strange, I know how insatiable curiosity feels," The flaxen-haired girl began. "Since you want to know, I was picking some mint in order to create a homemade remedy for certain illnesses. I've heard of you before, Sucrose, right?" The girl questioned.

"Ah—um—yes! That's me!" The girl with the vibrant emerald hair finally found her voice, her words tumbling out in an awkward yet endearing fashion. Her hand absent-mindedly moved to scratch the back of her neck, a clear indication of her nervousness. "If you don't mind ... and you don't have to if you do ... but I'm quite curious as to where you heard of me?" Taking advantage of the pause in the conversation, the young alchemist decided to return the question, her tone filled with a hint of cautious curiosity.

"You worry too much," the flaxen-haired girl said, her voice as soothing as a calm breeze over a tranquil sea. "My brother is Kaeya, the renowned Cavalry Captain of the Knights. His reputation surely precedes him. It's quite possible you've heard of him, given you work in the same organization," She paused, her bright eyes reflecting the flicker of light from the snow. "Moreover, he's spoken of you in our conversations before." Her words hung in the air, and the gravity of them caused the alchemist, already flushed, to blush a deeper shade of red, a color so intense it could rival the setting sun.

"In conversation ... huh ...—w-wait! You're Kaeya's sister? You must be Feyre, then. It's nice to finally meet you!" The alchemist beamed in recognition.

"Yes, I am Feyre. I'm truly grateful to meet your acquaintance, Miss Sucrose," Feyre affirmed, her words carrying an undercurrent of sincere gratitude. As she spoke, she respectfully bowed her head, a gesture of deference accompanying the mention of her respective title. This unexpected display of humility seemed to startle the alchemist. She widened her eyes, a clear expression of surprise flashing across her face, and instinctively wove her hands in front of herself in a sporadic manner.

"Oh, please, you don't need to call me that! Just Sucrose is fine." She relented, giggling slightly at the thought of being referred to as such a professional title.

"If you say so, Sucrose." Feyre spoke, giving the alchemist a closed-eye smile. The green-haired girl was fascinated, star-struck, even. The next words that left her mouth did not feel of her own accord, rather a gut feeling manifested.

"Would you ... want to meet my Master? You mentioned that you were working on a remedy for illnesses, and I think he'd be impressed by your work." The girl almost gasped when she realized what she'd said, why would a brand new acquaintance want to meet a stranger and share her home remedy recipe? Archons, what was she thinking?! Before she could interrupt herself again and evoke the offer, Feyre spoke, her lulling voice crashing over the alchemist like waves over sand.

"That sounds lovely, actually. I would be honored to meet him." Feyre said, her smile growing larger and larger. Sucrose was dumbstruck by the sight. The snow falling perfectly on her hair, the enchanting smile gracing her face, the twinkle of excitement in her eye, the lighting the sky shed on her tanned skin. Sucrose could definitely see how she was related to Kaeya. Both were inarguably beguiling. It took her whole being not to take a picture and capture the sight forever.

"Great! Come with me, he doesn't have any labs planned for today, so it should be a perfect time for a meeting!" The alchemist said cheerfully, her personality unfurling as more time went by. Feyre was happy to know that the shy girl was comfortable enough around her to let herself be ... herself.

"You seem to know his schedule pretty well." Feyre observed, beginning the follow the now-walking alchemist. Sucrose turned her face around, but kept walking while she responded.

"Of course, It's my duty. Well, Master Albedo says that It's not entirely necessary, but I care to disagree!" Sucrose replied, turning her head back around to watch her surroundings. Feyre hummed in acknowledgment. "He tends to start his mornings around 6 A.M. sharp, though I've never seen him sleep ... anyway, he then makes a cup of coffee—he prefers it black—and while he drinks it, he'll explain to me what the plan for the day is. But most of the time, I already know what it is before he says it," The alchemist rambled on, a smile bloomed on her face as the two grew closer to the camp. "And after he's finished his coffee, he looks through his notes from the previous day—if we were working on the same experiment, that is—and revises them if needed. Then the majority of the rest of the day is spent working. Doing labs, performing experiments, collecting data, forming hypothesis’, and so on. Oh! And the most interesting part of the day is when Master Albedo paints. It doesn't necessarily happen every day, but it's pretty common. If he hasn't told me to head back yet, I get to see him collect his array of supplies and head out to find a spot that sparks his creativity. Then, he'll sit down or stand depending on his mood, and he'll begin painting what's in front of him. It's almost scary how accurate his depictions are. It's like he took a picture and printed it out onto the canvas. I'm telling you, he really has a gift for-"

The green haired alchemist was cut off by a sudden impact. She stumbled for a second before she regained her balance, glancing up at what she had bumped into. Low and behold, it was her Master. Feyre had seen the man approaching, but decided not to say anything in case he wasn't who she thought he was. Sucrose obviously was too enraptured by her own storytelling, not noticing his nearing figure. Feyre did not make eye contact, however, feeling awkward around two already-acquainted individuals.

"Sucrose, there you are. I was worried you were injured," He spoke with a voice as smooth as silk but as cool as ice. His eyes trailed to the blonde girl next to the alchemist. "And whose this you've brought with you?" He spoke, removing his gaze from the girl, despite feeling an obligation to continue staring at her.

"Oh, Master Albedo! This is Feyre, Kaeya's sister! She was gathering mint for a homemade remedy she was going to craft—isn't that just amazing?! I thought you'd be interested in hearing more about it from her yourself!" Sucrose spoke in an excited manner, beaming with joy and radiance.

"Kaeya's sister, huh? I was not aware he had any siblings. It's an honor to finally meet you, Miss Feyre." The Master said, putting a solemn hand to his heart as he bowed gently. Feyre blushed at the undeserving gesture. She now understood how Sucrose must've felt earlier.

"Please, there is no need for formalities. It's my pleasure." Feyre responded, bowing in return. Albedo had smiled slightly at the sight of her pink-tinted cheeks.

"So, a homemade remedy, hm? Do you or Kaeya get sick often?" Albedo queried, one eyebrow raised as he began to lead the two girls towards the opening of the camp. The truth was yes... but also no. Kaeya tended to get sick more often than she did, but the two of them had very weak immune systems period. Whenever Kaeya would feel under the weather, which was a lot, she would create medicine from different herbs found in Mondstadt. And in her free time, she would research what different herbs did to the body. She'd search the highs and lows of every mountain and plateau in the whole nation to find something to soothe her brother's pain.

"I suppose you could say so. Him more than me, but we do just fine." Feyre spoke, purposefully being secretive about any matter relating to her brother. Though she was younger, she was the more protective one. She didn't want anyone to lay a finger on Kaeya, which is why it was so hard for her to let him join the Knights, and even harder for her to keep her composure when he returns home scratched up. Her nose scrunched at the memories. Albedo took notice and ceased his questions regarding her brother for the time being.

"It is quite admirable that you would do that for him. You seem like a good sister." The alchemist said in an almost teasing manner. Feyre wasn't suspecting his voice to ever change tones, so this certainly shocked her. With wife eyes and a flushed face, she replied.

"You flatter me. I simply do it because I want to keep my family safe, just as any sibling would do. Plus, I enjoy gathering and creating mixtures, it's oddly soothing in an ... indescribable fashion." Feyre spoke, beginning to daze off while thinking of the enjoyment the hobby brings her. Her lips slightly curled up unbeknownst to her. The alchemist passed through the threshold marked by the pitch of several tents.

"Ah, I can relate, in a way. I, too, have to look after someone I would consider my sibling. We are not blood related, of course, but we share a bond like we are," Albedo spoke, a fond, reminiscent tone voicing his words. He pictured tiny little Klee, with her partial to bomb making, in her little red attire, holding Dodoco at her hip. He smiled at the thought.

Feyre, however, was not put at ease by his openness. Why was he so honest, so trusting towards her? She didn't know him and he didn't know her, so what was the point of revealing weaknesses? She scrunched her eyebrows in uncomfortableness, opting not to respond after him. What if he was trying to lure her into a false sense of security? Feyre's thought process was cut off by the alchemist continuing his point. "Moving onto the main subject at hand," the alchemist began again, passing a couple of the many tents in the camp. "Have you always been interested in creating medicine to sustain health?" He spoke so formally that Feyre was overcome with shivers. Nobody in Teyvat—at least in Mondstadt—spoke in such a manner. Her suspicions of the peculiar blond alchemist grew. Feyre pondered his question, mulling it over in her mind, trying to decide whether she should answer it or pretend she had never heard him in the first place. She ultimately decided that it wouldn't kill her to tell him.

"I suppose so. When I was an infant, I would combine divergent substances and mixtures to see how they would react—or what they would create." Feyre could play the formality game, and she could also win. Was he trying to maim her? Distract her enough with his gorgeous golden locs or his serene voice so that she would divulge her Achilles heels? What utter nonsense. Did he believe she was naive? Mayhaps stupid? Her eyes glinted with malice. She refused to give into the ploy he was playing at.

"You find enjoyment in the creation of something unique? How very interesting... have you ever considered studying Alchemy? I believe you would find it thoroughly exhilarating, given your past activities." Albedo spoke with a persuasive tone, obviously trying to convince her to research the topic. Feyre was laser-focused on what he had said at first. He thought her medicine making was ... interesting? Nobody thought so. Kaeya teased her for being so worried, the few people who knew her deemed the activity strange, and those that didn't thought she was a witch of some sorts. The one thing she'd never never heard before was "interesting", and from, according to Sucrose, a very smart man nonetheless. She was so stunned, she almost forgot to respond to his question.

"Um ... not really." She spoke curtly, trying to gauge where this conversation was going. The alchemist reached a certain green tent and went inside, ducking to avoid getting hit with the tent's flaps. Feyre did not know if it was rude to go in as well without asking—but honestly, she didn't want to ask either. She decided to stand and wait outside of the tent until he returned.

After a few seconds, Feyre could hear the alchemist's footsteps pause before stopping completely. She sucked in a breath for an unknown reason, the icy air filling her lungs. Why did he stop? Did he forget something? Not long after, she could hear his steps approaching the entrance of the tent, getting louder as he grew closer. Her heart skipped a beat or two. She was oddly ... unsettled by the man. He did not radiate the warmth that even the coldest people in Teyvat did. Though he was kind and respectful, he acted in a foreign way. His hair was too perfect. His skin was too spotless. His eyes were too bright. He seemed almost inhuman. As his footsteps drew nearer, she found herself frozen, almost like a deer in headlights. The alchemist, having bent down slightly at the hips, pushed the tent flaps away and looked into her eyes. Horripilation passed over her. Those eyes ... their haunting amalgam of lurid color was downright seductive.

"Aren't you going to come in?" He spoke, blinking the snow off of his lashes. Too long. Too thick. Too beautiful. She blushed bashfully out of embarrassment. She nodded her head rapidly while blinking intermittently, displaying her discomfort. She cursed herself for not realizing what the alchemist was requesting her to do firstly. As said alchemist ducked back under the shelter of the tent, Feyre took a deep breath in preparation. After a beat of silence, she followed resolutely.

The interior of the tent was larger than she expected. The green walls of fabric seemed secure and blocked out the icy winds as well as the glare of the descending sun. Inside lay a lone sleeping bag that didn't look comfortable in the slightest. Feyre noticed that it was also unwrinkled, almost as if never been used before. If this was where the alchemist stayed during extended experiments, why was the bed untouched? She shrugged off the weird feeling her self-imposed question gave her. At the front of the tent was a small desk along with a small chair. Both made of regular wood from Mondstadt. On the desk sat multiple stacks of papers and documents, all of them sorted neatly into noticeable piles. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about what they said, and she fought the urge to run over to the desk and read them herself.

The alchemist walked over to said desk, his back facing her. She took this time to appreciate his hair. The way it fell beautifully onto his neck and upper back, the way it seemed to capture the sunlight like chlorophyll, the way she could envision how it would feel between her fingertips, her legs, her teeth. She was overcome with a waterfall of emotions, her irrational urges surging as she had to figuratively glue herself in place to not act on impulse. She was shocked at her own brain. Why was she feeling this way? Thankfully, she never had time to think too hard about it, as the alchemist beckoned her over with a finger. She followed like a lost puppy to its owner. She mentally cringed at her compliance.

"Come, take a look at this experiment I've been working on. Of course, these are mere notes taken, but I promise you, they are trustworthy." Albedo spoke, picking up a sheet of paper and handing it over to the girl. Feyre grasped the paper in her hands, careful not to bend it. Her eyes glazed over the notes—several charts, graphs, and bullet points clattered her vision. She almost gained a headache from the sheer amount of information entering her brain. She tried her best to make sense of the experiment, and after doing so, handed the paper back to the alchemist with a distressed look on her face.

"You're ... trying to revive a Whopperflower?" She queried, her head slightly tilting. The alchemist seemed to think her confusion was amusing, as a sly smile crept upon his face.

"Precisely. My ultimate goal is to create something from nothing. That is what the art of Alchemy reflects, is it not?" The alchemist smirked and Feyre's heart skipped another beat. She was still heavily confused, though. Why a Whopperflower? She asked him this very question. "While I might be thoroughly skilled in the art of alchemy, even I have not been able to create life. So, In working my way to that point, I will start off small. In the past, I've revived mint and cecelias. The next step is Whopperflowers. I am going to execute my first attempt at this experiment tomorrow evening. I was wondering if you'd care to join me." Albedo asked genuinely. Feyre was skeptical of his request, however. Why would a great alchemist such as him require someone whose practice in alchemy is akin to that of a vegetarian in a meat shop?

"You want me to join?" Feyre questioned, assuring that she heard him correctly the first time around. The alchemist nodded his head in return, all signs of teasing absent from his porcelain face. Truly, it was a sin to be that beautiful. Feyre had to pry her eyes away from his before she was stuck there forever. She glanced down at the page he now held, the one she had held before, in an effort to escape his gaze. In doing so, she read something she hadn't noticed before. In the top corner, she could clearly see the stamp of the Knights of Favonius. "You work for the Knights as well?" She asked, referring to Sucrose. She knew that Sucrose worked for the Knights, but she didn't expect someone of Albedo's intelligence to commit to such a lowly workforce.

"Ah, how rude of me. It seems I have forgotten to mention my occupation. Allow me to formally introduce myself to you once more. I am Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius." He spoke with such gravity that her eyes were drawn back to his, drinking in their shallow yet cavernous depth. She couldn't help but just nod at everything he said. She felt like she was in a trance—or drunk. One of the two. "I am going to be completely transparent with you regarding my motives. I wish for you to become my subordinate—my liaison, if you will. I am very interested in seeing how your interest in the topic of alchemy unfurls overtime." Albedo said, a gentle smile gracing his lips once more. She found herself smiling as well, nodding like a brain-dead idiot. She realized her stupidity quickly, though, and quit doing it. Her suspicions began to kick in again. She pondered if he would have any ulterior motives for asking her to be his assistant.

As Albedo began to go over what the job entailed, Feyre couldn't help but envision what it would be like to be his assistant. He said that she would have to monitor major experiments as well as pursue her own. Ask questions. Form a hypothesis. Experiment. Take notes. Analyze. Draw conclusions. The scientific method, she realized. She felt like a student. In regards to the pursuit of crafting life, he told her that she would begin with reviving a sweet flower so as to not overwhelm her. He told her to think of it as "dipping her toes into the ocean of alchemy."

"So, what do you say?" Albedo asked, a playful smile returning to his face. Feyre paused before expressing her hesitation.

"I'm not ..." She started, but quickly changed what she was going to say. "Are you sure you want me? I've never practiced alchemy before ..." She confessed, dropping her head to the floor in partial shame and embarrassment. The alchemist merely laughed for a short second—the melodious sound of it evading her senses. It was as smooth as his voice, yet as unnerving as his eyes. He looked at her in a harmless manner before responding.

"Do not fret. I have faith in my ability to instruct you, and even more faith in your exceptional talents." The alchemist spoke, the teasing lilt in his voice manifesting once more. As he awaited her answer, he began to stack his moved papers once more, removing his eyes from her figure. Feyre couldn't help but look at his arms, his hands, his fingers. The way they moved with practiced precision, almost like they'd done the motion a million times before. After a few moments of no answer, Albedo turned his head to face the girl while continuing to stack his papers. Feyre wasn't sure why she felt her heart beat a little louder at this action. He looked at her inquisitively, awaiting her response.

"I would be honored. Thank you for this opportunity." Feyre decided, wanting to feel free from his stare. The alchemist nodded affirmatively as he finished stacking the last pile, straightening the papers out in one swift tap on the desk. He turned his entire body to face her.

"Then it's decided. You will be my assistant, an alchemist-in-training. You will do as I previously stated, from sunrise to sunset," He spoke, moving to exit the tent in which they had entered. "In my opinion, your first steps into alchemy are your hardest. Grasping the concept, understanding the material... It can be difficult. This is why I will have mercy on you during your first weeks," He ducked under the flaps, the icy wind hitting him immediately as he stood patiently for the girl to follow. Once she did, he began walking to the edge of the campsite, where Sucrose was stationed, keeping herself busy as she reviewed her notes. "Although, I cannot promise I will be as merciful in the future." He ended, coming to a stop a few feet away from the green haired girl.

Feyre nodded, agreeing to all terms and conditions to her new job. She wanted to ask about the pay, but grew too shy. She didn't want it to come off as the only reason she agreed to this. Sucrose looked up, noticing the two nearing the exit of the campsite. She closed her notebook and stood up.

"You're back! How did everything go?" Sucrose asked, already having suspected that her mentor was to ask the blonde girl to become his apprentice. She felt some kind of excitement for the blonde girl, remembering when she was in her shoes just a few years ago.

Albedo nodded once before speaking with a gentle smile. "Quite well. Sucrose, meet your new coworker. She will be practicing alchemy under my wing when not assisting me in experiments and labs." He smiled a little wider saying the words out loud. His new apprentice. Oh, surely his experiments and progress would go by so much quicker with another set of hands, right? A happy feeling bloomed in his stomach at the thought of future endeavors.

"Oh, that's great! I can't wait to work alongside you!" Sucrose spoke, resisting the temptation to throw her arms around the girl as a congratulations.

"I should be saying that to you," Feyre replied before turning to Albedo for the last time. "Again, thank you for this opportunity." She bowed slightly as she spoke.

Albedo shook his head slowly before replying. "Of course. I'm curious to see where your steps in alchemy take you, Feyre. I'm sure you'll travel far." Feyre blushed slightly at his words, feeling as small as a snowflake in his presence. "Now, it is quite late. You should be returning home. Sucrose, would you accompany her back down Dragonspine?" The alchemist asked politely, eyeing the darkening sky. The winds began to grow colder, and he knew they would become unbearable soon if Feyre did not take her leave. Sucrose nodded urgently, determined to fulfill her task.

"Of course! Follow me, I know the safest and fastest way down." Sucrose exclaimed, waving Feyre over as she began to follow said path. Albedo had simply waved at the two girls in adieu, Sucrose and Feyre returning the gesture before turning their backs completely.

THE rest of that night was a mushy blur of wind and ice, Feyre realized as she recalled the memory. Albedo continued walking in front of her down their trek as Feyre got caught up in the rapture of their first meeting. She could remember it so clearly, so vividly. She could remember the way the falling snow felt on top of her hair, the way she couldn't look away from Sucrose's emerald hair, or Albedo's cerulean eyes. She smiled fondly at the recollection.

As her and her mentor's journey came to an end, she found herself staring into his hair gently swaying in the wind. She fought the urge to touch it, almost reaching her hand out before she instinctively pulled it back. She knew that she was limited to the mere sight of it—that the fantasy of experiencing it with any of her other senses was one that would stay a fantasy—nothing more, nothing less.

[twilightmalachite]

Poltergeist - Garbage Heap Sketch 7

Author: Akira

Characters: Madara, Natsume, Tsumugi, Arashi

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofreader: Revoltrad

"I won’t abandon Anzu-chan in a dangerous den of monsters like this when the boys seem to be useless."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Maizuru House (Recreation Room)

About an hour later…

Tsumugi: I’ve discussed with the actual staff for now, we can help out with simple tasks for the time being. Things like cleaning up rooms, washing the dishes, and so on and so forth.

I guess it’s a little late in saying this, but since I have the most experience with this sort of work, it kinda seems like I’m in charge. Is that okay?

This is supposed to be a project for the sake of Mikejima-kun. If you want, I could have you handle it instead…

Madara: Nah, it’s best to have the right people in the right places, isn’t it? Even if you entrusted full authority to me, I wouldn’t know what I’d be doing at all, honestlyyy!

Arashi: That’s true, I can only imagine things managing to get even messier than they already are.

Madara: Oya? Weren’t you heading home, Arashi-san?

Arashi: Well as a big sister, I can’t just run away and leave Anzu-chan behind, can I?

I won’t abandon Anzu-chan in a dangerous den of monsters like this when the boys seem to be useless.

Natsume: AhaHA, our evaluation is surprisingly lOW, isn’t iT?

Tsumugi: Well, Knights has always been carrying NewDi on its back~, so I think it's inevitable we’re seen as unreliable.

But, that aside, this makes five of us sent in from ES, so let’s divide the thirty children into five separate groups for each of us to keep an eye on.

It’ll be easier than dealing with everyone all at once.

If we concentrate on a smaller number of children, we might be able to build a closer relationship, too.

Basically—It might make for some good shots for the program.

Madara: We don’t have much time for filming, riiight? I agree with that, we’ll need to narrow our targets if we’re going to get along with the children in such a short time period.

If we try to attack them all at once, we’d probably run out of tiiime!

Natsume: It’s no different than otome games and other dating gamES.

Tsumugi: Yup. By the way, I’ve also requested the staff for brief profiles of each of the children, and tried to gather up the children who seem to be relatively harmless into groups.

Worst case scenario, only camera footage for those groups of children can be used in the actual program. What do you think?

Madara: Well, the scene earlier in the auditorium is certainly something that cannooot be broadcasted…

If it was something between the children, we could have laughed it off as a prank, but since it was directed towards adults, it would just cause a scandal.

Natsume: It’d become an entire broadcast nightmaRE.

But that asiDE, how exactly did you group thEM?

Tsumugi: First, I divided them between boys and girls, roughly speaking.

Some of these children are still too young to go to the bathroom by themselves, and although they’re kids, it might become controversial for someone of another gender to handle them.

Among the girls, I named the more dangerous group the “Rafflesia Group”. The one that’s relatively more tame I named the “Sunflower Group”.

Madara: They’re classified as if they’re pests, huuuh!

Tsumugi: Fufu, I’d like Narukami-kun and Anzu-chan to be in charge of those groups. Which one of you would like to be responsible for the more dangerous one?

Arashi: …I hate to do it, but I’ll be in charge of the more dangerous one.

Natsume: As expected from a knigHT. Are you saying you can’t let a girl do anything dangeroUS?

Arashi: That’s part of it, but there’s also the fact that Anzu-chan isn’t an idol.

I can’t just let our producer, who is helping us out from the goodness of her heart, do something dangerous that could get her hurt, can I?

As idols, we’ve signed a contract that covers hazard pay when we took on the job. But it’s not the same for Anzu-chan.

Tsumugi: Well yes, there is a difference there, isn’t there?

Arashi: Right. The Rafflesia Group might get involved in a dangerous prank or something and may not be broadcast in the end, but…

According to the staff, the girls do seem to be more composed than the boys.

Tsumugi: Yes. And as for the more rowdy boys… I’ve grouped them by how well-behaved they are. From least to most dangerous, the “Rabbit Group”, “Lion Group”, and the “Kaijuu Group”[1].

Madara: Is the last group really so dangerous that they can’t be described with a real animal, but with a fantasy creature insteaaad?

Tsumugi: Yes. The kids in this Kaijuu Group seem to be really out of control.

They’re quite literally problem children. The staff explained to me many times the precautions needed to take in order to come into contact with them.

Madara: What, are these kids SCPs[2] or something?

Tsumugi: Well… I do think that the staff is more afraid of these kids than necessary, which I’m a little stumped about.

Or… It’s not so much that they’re afraid of them, but as if they’re wary of agitating them.

Natsume: These are children they’re dealing wiTH. As corporal punishment will get you fired on the spot in this day and age, the policy of “wake not a sleeping lion” instead typically prevails.

Tsumugi: I guess that’s just how it is… So, how should we divide up the groups for the boys?

I can endure just about anything as long as I don’t die, so should I be in charge of the most dangerous Kaijuu Group?

Madara: Hmm… Nah, let me be in charge of them.

Natsume: Whoa, what’s thIS? What’s got you so motivated all of a suddEN?

Madara: It’s not that I’m motivated or anything. I’ve traveled all around the world with not much of a thought about idols, so I’ve gained all sorts of experience.

And well, I’m preeeetty nimble and sturdy. So, under the assumption that the children hate adults and will attack them…

Tsumugi: In other words, you think you’d be more capable of dealing with such dangerous children than I would be, Mikejima-kun?

Madara: Mhm! Even if someone were to try beating me up under normal circumstances, I’d be able to subdue them without causing injury!

I might also be able to see through any traps before they happen, whereas you would get killed instantly by those, Tsumugi-saaan!

Natsume: This is sounding more like a conversation between adventurers before they challenge a dangeroUS, monster-infested dungeON, rather than a conversation between nursery teacheRS…

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

Kaijuu essentially means “monster”. I've kept the original spelling, because Kaijuu often refers to the genre of large monsters often depicted in tokusatsu...

A reference to the SCP Foundation, a multi-media horror project that details phenomena/creatures/objects/etc that require “Special Containment Procedures”; essentially what “an SCP” is. It originally began as a wiki project, but has since branched out into video games, web series, novels, and more in a variety of languages world-wide! Akira, the author of this story, even authored one of these novels!

[itsclydebitches]

I want someone to explain to me how the heck Blake ended up dropped nearby Weiss when she fell with Ruby?? Shouldn't, logically, she be closer to her? Or do we just say "it's fake wonderland, logic no longer exists". Also how did they all find each other but not find Jaune. Not complaining, exactly, that he's not made an appearance just... confused by it. (Would be hilarious if the writers somehow forgot they even dropped him to begin with.)

I think the explanation for that is in the Volume 9 sneak peek we saw a... year ago? A while, anyway. The one where we get the events of the finale from Ruby's PoV. When she falls Blake sorta disappears after Ruby looks away for a moment, then she winds up in the in-between place with the floating orange orbs (which are a strange detail ngl), Neo shows up, they fight, Ruby throws her off, and then Neo just kinda hovers there menacingly until she too fades away. Ruby then wakes up on the beach alone.

So yeah, it's an "explanation" in the sense that the story seems to have gone, "Magical voids mean we can just have everyone wake up wherever we please, rather than tackling the more challenging structure of keeping those who fell together." Honestly, I'd much rather Ruby wake up and forge an actual relationship with Blake + deal with Neo without the rest of her team than, uh, meeting a mouse.

As for Jaune, who knows. More convenient plotting where the team stumble across each other quickly--as in, the first episode or two given the theory that our trailer isn't showing much beyond that--but for inexplicable reasons he remains lost? Does it have to do with the fact that maybe they aren't looking for him if Weiss assumes/hopes he made it to the portal? Or the reigning theory: Jaune is an antagonist of the Volume, changed by Wonderland, and thus is actively avoiding the girls?

Personally, I'm not persuaded by that though, for a couple of reasons. 1. It would require a Wonderland where both space (falling in different places) and time are seriously wonky, given that Jaune fell last, but is presumably warped by Wonderland long before the girls even wake up. I mean, it's possible, especially given our inspiration, but it's way more confusing/messy. 2. If Jaune were the antagonist I would honestly expect them to hint at that in the trailer. Given his popularity across much of the fandom and the writers' own interest in his character, that seems the perfect way to hook a lot of fans after the long hiatus. And 3. The theory revolves around Jaune being the knight which yeah, tracks in an aesthetic sense (sword and shield) but the narration of our presumed antagonist is a woman and the shot from the back that the trailer gave us 100% looks like a woman (as RT would design one)/not like Jaune/I'm pretty sure that's her long hair up in a bun. The theory was more plausible back when the knight/armorer/whoever she is was only wearing a helmet.

Really, I'm not sure what to make of Jaune's lack of screentime in the trailer. Again, it could simply be that they only picked scenes from the first 1-2 episodes, but it feels like we're already struggling with the problem I pointed out all the way back in Volume 8: by having Jaune kill Penny and then fall into the void, RT created a situation where he has to be at the center of the next Volume's emotional journey--you can't just ignore what he did + his presence in Wonderland--but simultaneously, Jaune shouldn't be the focus when this is otherwise a Volume about our title team working through their own doubts. Now, we're seeing that precise push-and-pull in the fandom. Some fans are horrified that he didn't show up. How can you possibly ignore Jaune right now?? Meanwhile, some are relieved that he didn't show up. Good, this wasn't supposed to be your Volume anyway. RT really backed themselves into a corner with this one, imo, because if Jaune's journey gets a lot of focus we'll be right back to, Why is he Mr. Character Development when all four girls are RIGHT THERE, but if they don't do enough we've got more, Love that you introduced these HUGE plot points and then did so little with them. If Volume 9 centers the emotional journey around finding Jaune and comforting him over Penny's death, we've got a problem. If they mostly ignore his actions and focus on the girls, we've got a problem. It's not that RWDE folk are refusing to be happy about what's put up on screen (as I often see the more protective fans claiming), but rather we recognize the mistakes made in the past that are now leading to more issues.

[shivvytheshiv]

as usual i’m making somewhat of a thread of my thoughts on episode 10!

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON FINALE SPOILERS SO BEWARE

• lucerys and rhaenyra’s relationship in this episode makes my heart sink. especially knowing the ending but even in general. out of all of her children rhaenyra really has a soft spot for luke, she had some sweet moments shared with jace but he’s a firstborn so that explains it. luke is mama’s boy

• ok honestly why is every birth scene in that show so traumatic. i CRIED. gotta admire emma d’arcy acting cause wow. i loved the dragon parallel, i believe it was syrax feeling his rider’s pain?? and rhaenyra’s strength oh. my. god. pushing her daughter out HERSELF, not letting any handmaiden near, knowing damn well she won’t live, grieving her and literally in no time dealing with a handful of problems? THIS WOMAN Y’ALL

• the scene on the bridge between daemon, otto and rhaenyra was great. parallel with ep 2 was POETIC, also really loved seeing rhaenyra on a dragon bc we didn’t really see that since she was a younger girl. that book page reference? rhaenyra crying when being reminded of their ‘childhood love’? I SCREAM IN LESBIAN

• oh OH OH. CORONATION. i really suck at remembering names but the knight stealing viserys’ crown and actually running to help the other side reminds me of jaime post season seven. daemon crowning rhaenyra weeks after pretty much crowning his brother was poetic. damn everything about this episode is poetic

• i talked about the choking scene in a previous post so there’s nothing to add here really. i personally found daemon’s characterization interesting and complex, also rhaenyra snapping him right back with ‘he didn’t tell you, did he?’ knowing how important viserys’s trust was to him??? my complex babes really deserve each other

• corlys really said imma support my daughter in law even tho she’s not my daughter in law anymore. i stan. i really hope they give us some ‘queen and her hand’ moments between him and rhae in season 2

• ALSO RHAENYS😭😭😭😭💍💍💍💍💍

• lucerys and aemond- i was literally scared to write this part bc it’s so messed up and there are so many layers but here we go. first of all rhaenyra’s motherly moment with jace and luke before they flew off was EVERYTHING.

luke is such a baby compared to all them lords and aemond and he did such a great job 😭😭😭 like he addressed that baratheon brat with so much respect and grace. they did raise him well.

THEY BOTH ARE MAMA’S BOYS PLEASE

ok i really am not an aemond’s fan and i’m not trying to defend him but the fact that luke’s death was an accident actually really appealed to me. like obviously aemond is a prick for doing the whole ‘give me your eye’ thing but it is understandable of him to look for revenge. luke did take his eye. it was fair but you have to admit it gotta hurt. might be that he actually wanted that revenge, might be that he just wanted to scare the poor boy and that was the exact reason for chasing him on vhagar. luke’s death was obviously a shock for him and that’s what i find really interesting about it:

Aemond might be an excellent swordsman, he might be advanced and familiar with how it’s done but he never faced death — until now. we don’t really see aemond the way we see aegon, jace and luke - as a young man who literally has no life experience yet - but he is. until now.

• ending scene 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

honestly im in awe if you finished it lmao. overall it was one of the best episodes i’ve seen so far and i really enjoyed the intensity and some unexpected turns. i know people tend to hate it but if you didn’t i’m right there with you

[agentrouka-blog]

I also want to point out that Stannis is dismissing Arya's inheritance as well when he insists that Jon take Winterfell. If Sansa is unable to ever be recovered to the point that she is considered legally dead ie Gerion Lannister (keep dreaming though antis) then "Arya"as her heir (just as Bran was Robb's Rickons was Brans) is the rightful Lady of Winterfell. Stannis wants to eliminate the Boltons, and if successful that leaves "Arya" a widow. Or are widows unable to marry? And he can also ask Jon to be one of her regents. I mean just look at how he wants 11yo Shireen's rights defended if he were to die tomorrow.

This isn't an instance of people being salty about "bastards stealing trueborn inheritances" It's about Stannis' sheer hypocrisy and the fact that if he had the Stark girls in his custody, he would not be offering Jon this. He couldn't care about removing the stigma of bastards or implementing more protections for them on a wider level, he'll just take one bastard and give him power because it'll personally benefit him.

Hi there! :)

Good point.

In his defense, Stannis considers himself the true king, and House Stark technically commited treason against him by rising up for independence, placing House Stark's role as wardens of the North and lords of Winterfell at his mercy. Technically. On a practical level, he knows it's not feasible, but it's the same pretend-it-away approach as his idea of "princess Val".

Stannis plays the role of the king who can dispose of the marital future of a vassal or a ward of the crown, either of which is what he would consider Arya to be. He says as much to Jon in his letter to him from Deepwood Motte. That's the extent of her importance to him.

He becomes aware of her after leaving the Wall and arriving at Deepwood Motte. He writes a letter to Jon, who secretly already sent his own rescue mission in the shape of Mance.

And word has come to us that Roose Bolton moves toward Winterfell with all his power, there to wed his bastard to your half sister. He must not be allowed to restore the castle to its former strength. We march against him. Arnolf Karstark and Mors Umber will join us. I will save your sister if I can, and find a better match for her than Ramsay Snow. You and your brothers must hold the Wall until I can return. (ADWD, Jon VII)

Stannis, as you point out, does not suggest using Arya to try and bind the North to him through her role as a Stark heiress. Even once she is in his hands, his concern for her centers around her relationship to Jon first and foremost. He would not give her over to Jon if she was his key to the North.

"Oh, and take the Stark girl with you. Deliver her to Lord Commander Snow on your way to Eastwatch." Stannis tapped the parchment that lay before him. "A true king pays his debts." (TWOW, Theon I)

Jon, too, doesn't consider her claim to Winterfell to be a big factor when considering what Stannis might do. He anticipates that she would be married off to a Southern knight, not be treated as Lady of Winterfell and heir to the North.

 The king would only want to marry her to one of his own men, Horpe or Massey or Godry Giantslayer, and the gods alone knew what use the red woman might want to make of her. (ADWD, Jon IX)

Stannis' fantasy of creating a Norther-wildling alliance through "princess Val" and a male Lord of Winterfell of his choice fades away when Jon rejects him. It's not a very feasible plan, since the grooms in question would otherwise be Southern lords or knights.

"If Your Grace wishes to lose all of my lord father's bannermen, there is no more certain way than by giving northern halls to southron lords." "How can I lose men I do not have? I had hoped to bestow Winterfell on a northman, you may recall. A son of Eddard Stark. He threw my offer in my face." (ADWD, Jon I)

Stannis and Selyse instead end up making several smaller wedding alliances between wildling "lords" who bend the knee, their daughters and the Southerns knights in Selyse's court. Much like Jon does with Alys Karstark and Sigorn of Thenn. The Big Wedding is replaced by many smaller ones, reducing the need for a powerful focal point.

Hence, the plan for Winterfell and the rulership of the North becomes divorced from House Stark's current bloodline, though Stannis still recognizes its significance.

"If it gives you any solace, Horpe and Massey are doomed to disappointment. I am more inclined to bestow Winterfell upon Arnolf Karstark. A good northman. (...) He has Stark blood in him. The blood of Winterfell."(ADWD, Jon IV)

And as shown above, he doesn't amend this plan even when Arya's presence becomes known, even after he becomes aware of the treachery of Arnolf Karstark.

So Arya's claim to Winterfell is essentially disregarded by Stannis for the time being. She is treated with no more significance by him than absent Sansa is. He has no interest in female heiresses, he wants a capable adult male leader in place, not a girl, however legitimate her claim. (And yes, the hypocrisy is thick when you consider his entire war is fought because his "claim to the throne" makes it his duty to enforce the law and fight to get it. Other people's claims are subject to his own needs.)

Which is really funny, because "Ned's girl" is one of the main reasons the mountain clans and the Mormonts are marching with him.

 What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." (ADWD, The Turncloak)

But the wolves insisted; Roose Bolton could not be suffered to hold Winterfell, and the Ned's girl must be rescued from the clutches of his bastard. So said Morgan Liddle, Brandon Norrey, Big Bucket Wull, the Flints, even the She-Bear. (ADWD, The King's Prize)

"This march was madness. More dying every day, and for what? Some girl?" "Ned's girl," said Morgan Liddle. (...) "Ned's girl," echoed Big Bucket Wull. "And we should have had her and the castle both if you prancing southron jackanapes didn't piss your satin breeches at a little snow." (ADWD, The King's Prize)

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks." (ADWD, The King's Prize)

So Stannis fails to make a practicable plan for rulership in the North in the case of his victory. Which is really another excellent hint at the idea that he won't play a significant role in securing victory over the Boltons.

Which will leave room for the Northerners themselves to squabble over which of the available Stark heirs they'll want to support over the Bolton faction.

Stark heirs, though, it seems they want, be they girl or boy.

[alyjojo]

Advice to Work on Yourself 🏊🏼‍♀️ in August 2023: Gemini

The Hierophant - 6 Swords - Knight of Wands

Regarding: Justice

You’re being asked to take things a lot more seriously than maybe you’re typically comfortable with. The Hierophant when you’re usually a Knight of Wands. You like to follow your impulse wherever it leads, spend money wherever, on whatever you feel like in the moment, and indulge in probably several hobbies or interests that leave you feeling heartbroken later when things don’t work out the way you want them to. When you can’t pay for emergency purchases like a rock massively cracking your windshield, because you spent all of your money on…idk, shoes. It also negatively affects your relationship, and may be related to passionate “hobbies”.

If that applies to love then it’s like straddling the line between committed and being a fkboy/girl, flirting online with pornstars or something. What would be considered an unnecessary indulgence, it pleases you but it’s disrespectful to someone else, especially if they’re serious about you. The Hierophant with The Hermit is needing to go deep within to ask yourself some tough questions about The Lovers rev…why do you have a hard time with relationships? What is the common thread between all of them? Like one person complaining about something could be a difference of opinion, but…12 of them? At some point, they’re all onto something.

If you’re someone that likes to go to the club a lot, that’s being highlighted as something that needs to stop with 4 Swords. This could also be an injury of some kind that’s had you knocked down for awhile, but has or will be healing. Some of you may have been bed bound and it created a whole online addiction of the “wand” variety. Some outside thing you’re doing is hurting someone else - 3 Swords. Your wand needs discipline, maturity, and restraint, male or female. Could be money too, restraining your impulses either way. 10 Cups comes with Temperance…being patient, mixing elements of yourself with another person so that everyone is happy. The Hierophant, standing by your morals and what you know to be right, acting in a serious manner, or how *you* would expect a committed partner to act. And Justice, cutting off everything that isn’t that.

Now Camel does show you’re bored, possibly have been stuck in one place for some time, you’re feeling restless like you want to pounce on anything new just to feel ALIVE. This is saying calm down. Do this with your person, if you have one. Spirit wants you to be passionate about things, but…smart things, good for you things. Couch Time refers to things you’re watching specifically, things like TED Talks or “100 most amazing beaches” or for example I just watched a documentary on Cheeses 🧀 It was very boring 😆, I don’t recommend it, and I still don’t know how it’s all made the same way but comes out different…I digress, but at least I now know that Gouda is actually pronounced “how-da”, in its native language, which is great, and Geminis love nerdy fun facts like that. Or yanno, whatever good for you thing you enjoy, that feeds your mind. You could find a whole new passion in this way.

Animal Oracle: Camel 🐪

“Trust that you have the resources to get through the challenges before you.”

Sometimes it feels like you’re journeying across a vast, lifeless desert that stretches behind the horizon with no end in sight. Journeying across this seemingly barren landscape before you, your thirst for comfort and solace during these times can most readily be satisfied by looking to your inner resources. All the experiences you’ve had in your lifetime, the challenges you’ve successfully faced, and the wealth of knowledge you’ve accumulated can be called on not only to cope with any type of adversity that presents itself, but to help you move forward with courage and determination. First, identify where you want to go and then proceed slowly, steadily, and deliberately toward that objective. As you move along, cast away your fears, doubts, and hesitations whenever they arise, letting the four winds lift them up to the sun to be burned away. Ease your mind and heart, and know that all is well and you’re protected at all times. Call upon your helping spirits who have assisted you up through this point in your journey. You have what it takes, you will get through this!

Artist Oracle: You have two

AI WEIWEI

- When authority says to be quiet, get a loudspeaker

- Art must fight for freedom or the whole world is a prison.

- Some things are whole only when they shatter.

JEAN-MICHEL BASQUIAT

- In lieu of a canvas, find a wall.

- Try collaborating with Andy Warhol.

- Good work can come from bad habits.

Advice:

- Upgrade Your Couch Time

- Make Saving Easy

Charms:

Intuitive ♋️ on Camel shows resources being slim with this reading in general, but this card says you are resourceful enough to get creative with it and be able to manage everything that you need to, with a little disciple from this Saturn charm & Hierophant.

Saturn 🪐 on Knight of Wands is disciplining the wild monkey 🙉 within that wants to spontaneously buy shit, travel, flirt, hop from person to person and not commit to any of them. It’s a necessary “grow up” kind of a lesson that’s being shown here, but for your own sake. What you really want long term is to get a handle on what the wild monkey in your brain wants NOW. He can wait, give him a banana 🍌 and take care of what needs taking care of first. Making Savings Easy is connected to this.

Dancer 💃 on 4 Swords are hobbies that you’ve either been forced to stop, creating this lull in your normally excitable energy, dissatisfaction and boredom because you can’t do what you used to do, or they’re things you need to stop, either way. I’m literally hearing “find new hobbies”. I really get this is for someone with ten porn subs and have watched them all, or clubs all week every week, excessively doing too much. This could even be impacting your health and you’re not realizing it. Spirit recommends active movement (if possible), but using your brain, wit, and knowledge more often too. Purposeful healthy activities that are fun & active over whatever over-indulgent ones that leave you feeling 😓 later.

[scoops-stevie-archive]

happy new year!!!

I posted 20,559 times in 2022

That's 10,221 more posts than 2021!

822 posts created (4%)

19,737 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@oniongrass

@jiangwrongcurator

@saxonvoter

@zackisontumblr

@gayafmermaid

I tagged 11,339 of my posts in 2022

Only 45% of my posts had no tags

#steddie - 2,597 posts

#dingus - 853 posts

#ofmd - 833 posts

#animals - 609 posts

#blathering blathersqueue! - 595 posts

#mine - 549 posts

#q - 338 posts

#video - 284 posts

#smoosh - 272 posts

#wwdits - 253 posts

Longest Tag: 90 characters

#��😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

how do the veteran knights explain merlin and arthur's relationship to the newbies?? they see merlin, a servant, mouthing off to the prince (or king, depending on which season you're watching) and they think surely he's going to be punished but then arthur's giving it right back and suddenly it's a back and forth that just has the older knights rolling their eyes and shaking their heads in fond amusement

711 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

#4

steve being a chaperone at the senior prom of '86 because he promised robin and nancy a dance at least once. all sad because eddie said he wasn't going and what's the point of being a chaperone if you can't whisk your boyfriend away for a private dance? but then halfway through the night eddie shows up dressed to the nines in a black waistcoat and a white button up, black tie tucked in and his chain hanging from the pocket of his black dress pants, wearing his nicest sneakers. his hair is pulled up into a ponytail and steve just stops. stares. and then promptly m e l t s.

1,121 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

#3

read on ao3

really though, think about it.

girls in robin's year would totally still be hung up over steve "the hair" harrington. king steve. the boy they've created in their heads and would kill for a shot to go out with him.

so when they see his beemer in the parking lot after school on the first day in 1985, a game of telephone immediately starts. they gossip about how he's there to see a girl, nevermind the fact he'd never go for someone still in high school (unless you're a boy whose repeating his senior year but that isn't relevant just yet), and names start flying. news reaches inside the school building quickly and the halls are filled with whispers.

no one gets close to him. it's almost as if everyone is waiting with baited breath to see who's going to get in the car. they watch and discreetly point and make their predictions until a hush falls over them when they see steve perk up and sit in his seat a little straighter, turning his key in the ignition and starting the car. everyone looks around for the girl he's inevitably taking home, and the building doors slam open with a bang! and robin buckley comes tumbling out onto the sidewalk with all the gracefulness of a newborn foal. they pay her no mind and keep watch for the absolutely beautiful girl that has the honor of sitting in his passenger seat.

and then robin buckley moves in and throws her backpack into his backseat before sitting shotgun. says something that has steve letting out the most ugly cackle they've ever heard, a giant grin on his face.

there's no way.

how did robin buckley manage to capture the former king of hawkins for herself?

they watch as steve backs out of the parking space, still laughing and engrossed in whatever conversation the two of them are having, and drive away.

after he picked her up that first day, he's been driving her to and from school ever since just so she wouldn't have to ride the bus. even going so far as getting her breakfast and coffee before he drops her off. he's got her a little bit spoiled.

and it makes all the girls furious.

robin thinks it's absolutely fucking hilarious.

they mostly glare at her in the hallway between classes and she has to stifle her giggles behind her hand. they won't do anything directly, she's noticed, but she hears the jeers behind her back and it only makes her roll her eyes. if only they knew the real steve.

robin shows up late wearing a polo under her denim jacket that obviously belongs to steve. they had their weekly sleepover the night before (where they share a bed and oh wouldn't that knowledge make every girl see red) and they'd both slept through the shrill ringing of the alarm clock. she'd snatched the shirt off his floor in her haste to get dressed and neither of them noticed until someone was brave enough to point it out.

"woke up late and didn't have a clean shirt," robin shrugs. then, to be a little mean, "not my fault his bed's so comfortable."

and just like she thought, the girl's face goes bright red and the steam coming from her ears is almost visible. she storms off and they've got new gossip for the week.

it keeps happening. robin wears steve's clothes more than her own now after realizing how good she actually looks and how comfortable they are compared to her own. it's not all polos and buttons; there's a few plain tee's and a couple with graphic designs that she tends to favor more.

"keep 'em of you like them so much," steve had told her one weekend as she raided his closet. he was still bundled up under the blankets in his bed and looking at her fondly. "they don't fit me anymore and i'd rather they get more use than collect dust."

the day before christmas break, robin's sitting at her regular lunch table when the chair in front of her is turned backwards and eddie munson is straddling it, giving her a smirk.

"so, buckley, a little birdie tells me that you and harrington are going steady."

robin rolls her eyes. "me and the dingus?" she shakes her head. "there's nothing going on there, trust me. we are platonic with a capital P, all the way."

eddie hums in consideration and he's got that look on his face that robin recognizes well. she gives him a once over and leans in, beckons him forward like she's telling a secret.

"but you, on the other hand..."

1,315 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

#2

some trashy tabloid publishes an article about eddie (without prior planning or authorization from his pr team) basically trying to drag eddie's name through the mud and spread lies about him just for clout and views.

fans are rightfully upset and immediately take to defending him and mentioning him and steve in their tweets. eddie doesn't publicly comment on it but steve posts a video to instagram of eddie laying in the recliner with their baby on his chest, singing softly to her to get her to sleep, rubbing her back with his fingertips and a soft smile on his face.

his caption is the complete opposite. it's scathing and he shows the world just how big of a bitch he can be when it comes to defending his husband.

3,117 notes - Posted December 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

when steve and eddie finally adopt, everyone thinks that eddie's gonna be the fun parent and steve's gonna be the over protective one. when their kid falls from climbing the playground equipment at the park, they find out its the complete opposite.

eddie's on the ground with the kid pulled onto his lap and wiping their tears and speaking in soft tones to calm them down.

steve takes one look at their scraped knee and says, deadpan, "yep. we're definitely gonna have to chop your leg off." which makes the kid scream and cry harder into eddie's chest as eddie tries to scold steve without laughing.

13,769 notes - Posted November 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nerdlydelicious]

What’s the best ship, and why is it White Knight?

Good question! Well obviously the answer is because best girl + best boy = best ship. It’s simple math.

But to give an actual answer to your question: Jaune and Weiss didn’t have the best start in knowing each other. Jaune came on a bit too strong out the gate, and kinda shot himself in the foot by not easing back on the throttle and just trying to get to know her. Weiss on the other hand thought Jaune’s interest in her stemmed from an interest in her family. Obviously we know that wasn’t the case, but it shows that Weiss has had to deal with that very thing a lot, and that made her jaded towards boys who made an advance on her. Why she didn’t give Neptune the same cold shoulder at first… I dunno, so don’t ask me.

But of course, Weiss learns that’s not the case at the dance and she realizes that Jaune really does care about her.

And that’s one of the reasons why I love White Knight so much. Their relationship, regardless of whether it’s platonic or romantic, didn’t start out on the right foot like it did for Ren and Nora, or Yang and Blake. Jaune and Weiss started Beacon rough around the edges in their own ways and they wound up grating against one another. However as time passed we saw that she warmed up to him, and he eased off. From Weiss complimenting him in the Vytal tournament, to the two of them sitting side by side at the dinner table in Haven, to him saving her life and the little moments of him looking out for her, to her accompanying him and Oscar to the movies, to Weiss putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling proudly at him when he helped Penny, and of course the two of them being the last to fall into the Void, it is clear that any awkwardness between the two of them has long since vanished. Despite how they started Jaune and Weiss have grown beyond those awkward days. Though the moments between them are small and almost background material, I still think they’re significant and bear weight, and shouldn’t be disregarded.

And there’s other reasons, of course. There are certain narrative elements that connect. Cinder wounded Weiss to torment Jaune, and Jaune unlocked his semblance, an aspect of who he is, trying to save her. Sure, Cinder chose her because her aura was broken at that point, but from a story writers standpoint the fact that it was Weiss, the girl he had a big crush on back at Beacon, who was chosen to be why he unlocked his semblance and not someone he was arguably closer to like Ren, Nora, or even Ruby speaks of intent on the show writers’ parts. They meant for that to happen, for them to have that moment. And with how volume 8 ended and what I think might happen in volume 9, they’re going to have some more moments of closeness, and I hope that this time Weiss will save Jaune from his greatest enemy: himself.

And, to finally wrap up my mini rant about my feel good ship: there are parellels and similarities in their backgrounds. They both come from a proud and old lineage. Weiss is trying to redeem hers and fix the damage caused by her father, while Jaune starts Beacon trying to live up to his family legacy. There’s also the fact that they fit nicely into the ‘knight and princess’ trope that I’ve always been a sucker for, though she’s certainly no damsel in distress.

TL;DR I like White Knight because they’ve both grown a lot throughout the show and have shared important moments together as well as having narrative connections and parallels. Also, they’d be very cute together.

[morganas-pendragons]

Don’t Fear The Reaper (I) | Jason Todd

Storytime! So I never really could find myself getting into the DC universe outside of Birds of Prey, the Arkham Games and the Gotham TV show. It just bored me to death. However, I love darker anti heroes, and so Jason Todd’s story in Arkham Knight has been seared onto my brain since I was a teenager. I just replayed this game again when I got my own xbox and boom, this idea was born! I know very little about the canon outside of this verse (or what is and isn’t canon) so mind any mistakes, but I hope you enjoy! There’s dark elements in this (as there is in all the Arkham Games) so be warned. 

Song inspiration is Don’t Fear The Reaper by Denmark + Winter 

Tag: @embarrassedauthornerd​ / @darth-vaders-bitch​

Reader is she/her due to the fact I’ve been developing this idea for a while, so it fits the purposes of the fic!

It starts easy, just as it always does. The younger sister of Dick Grayson - just three years older then Jason - who was at Batman’s side when they first met at the tender age of fifteen years old. 

There was something unique about you off the bat. Something that caught his attention.   

  “What.. what’s your name?” He asked, raising a wary brow as you extended your hand.   

  “You’ll figure that out later.” You murmured. “You can just call me Blaze, for now.”   

It starts easy. He falls, and he latches onto that easy thing because it’s safe and comforting and one thing his parents never gave him.  

 Love. 

It starts off easy... but nothing ever stays easy. 

There’s so many things he’s planned to do with you. So many unfinished memories, fractures of laughter and smiles and sunlight and kisses and so many things he just prays and pleads he’ll have the pleasure to do someday. 

Jason Todd was never gifted with enough time. But if there was one thing he was gifted with, it was the relationships he forged through meeting Bruce Wayne. Dick Grayson, your older brother, was the only person left in your life who was fiercely protective of your heart. 

And well.. that was something Jason could agree with him on. They would both be protective of your heart. Gotham would never give you the illusion of safety. That was why Bruce had taken the three of you in. Tragedy had struck, you’d proven you all had potential, and well... Gotham wasn’t kind to Nightwing or Robin, but it surely wouldn’t be kind to Blaze. 

  “Good.” Jason murmured, peering around the corner with Dick to see the shortly lived embrace between you and Bruce. Dick had been reminding him that you had a hard time forming relationships ever since you witnessed what had happened to your parents first hand. You and Dick had that memory seared into the very fabric of you. A stain. One that could not be washed out. “Because someone should protect our girl.” 

Jason was hoping it was going to be him. But he’s never gotten what he wants, has he? 

He thinks he’s fallen in love with you mere months before the incident happens. His nightmares are getting worse. Being out on the road and aiding Batman in forging Gotham into what he believes it should be is not an easy task. It’s disheartening. Traumatizing. Exhausting. You don’t have the slightest clue how Bruce and Jason do it, but it’s not like you can do anything to stop them. 

You just.. watch from afar. Keeping a mindful eye on your brother, you make it a priority to say hello every time Jason comes home. 

But the hardest thing you have ever done is definitely that last goodbye. 

  “Jason, wait!” Before Jason could walk out the door, you found yourself running forward not of your own accord to throw your arms around him and give him the fiercest embrace. It’s not just one of those normal hugs though. This one is fierce and breathless and all encompassing. Just the thought of how this hug is so different from the others you’ve shared makes Jason warm inside. “You come home to me, you understand? We still have alot to do together.” 

To make up for the time we didn’t have anyway. 

He gives you this smile that is so unlike him - because everyone knows Jason Todd to be hot tempered and reckless, but not you - and it makes your heart skip a beat because it is saved specifically for you. 

  “To coming home.” Jason nods. “I promise.” 

And that’s the last time you ever see him. When Bruce returns to you and Dick, he passes the news that Jason Todd died on their mission. Only thing is that there’s no proof. You are angry. It’s why the two of you got on so well. Your anger rivals the other. 

There’s a reason your hero name is Blaze. 

  “He... he’s what?” 

  “He’s gone, Blaze.” 

And well... you don’t accept that. You just can’t. You'd already lost your mother and father, been conditioned to be a teenage soldier for the betterment of Gotham, and had no one to rely on but Dick. You refuse to accept Jason Todd has died. 

That’s the day you start blaming Bruce Wayne for the death of the boy you love. 

It’s unfortunate he never knew you did. 

*** 

“My name.. is Jason Todd. I was born in Gotham to Cathy Todd. My mother is dead. The Joker kidnapped me...”

The cold, abandoned wing of Arkham Asylum that he’s been locked in for half a year - or at least that’s what Joker keeps telling him - is as silent as the grave. Jason would even go as far to assume that he’ll die here. Why wouldn’t Joker kill him? It’s not like he’s useful. Or he has a purpose. He’s been aware of that for as long as he can remember.  

Then Bruce Wayne had left him to die, and well... here he was. Relying on hallucinations and harbored, unconfessed feelings to survive. Relying on you when he’d never even had you. 

“They called me Robin. He did. She did. They did. That was my purpose.. to save Gotham. I’ve been a Wayne since I was a teenager. Bruce Wayne saved my life-”

He sees flashes. Images reflecting like shattered glass against the back of his eyelids - which constantly hurt, he hasn’t slept for days - that he tries so desperately to reach for, but to no avail. Bruce. Dick. The rest.. they’re mostly images of you.

Images of how gentle you are. How much you came to love him, or at least he hopes, in such a short amount of time. How you’d given him things no one else could’ve. Bruce was his mentor. 

  “Come home to me, Jason...” He’s so sure you’re real, desperate to believe the apparition he sees in the corner of his eyes that’s developed from his delirium is not a figment of his imagination. Jason has forgotten what gentleness feels like. How sunlight feels against his skin. What a breeze off of the river smells like. What the sight of your smile looks like. 

You are the woman he loves.

  “You promised.” 

Were.

The longer he’s in captivity, the more difficult it becomes to form coherent thoughts that don’t resound with hatred. With grief, with shame. “Bruce Wayne ruined my life-”

And then he sees that photo on the floor. The half torn one the Joker tossed carelessly at his feet of him and you after he’d spent hours screaming and writhing on that floor that’s covered in dirt and grime and blood because he just refused to give you up. The pain didn’t matter. The constant wish to die didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. 

Nothing mattered as long as he knew you were still alive. 

You’re staring off into the distance of a sunset that the two of you had watched from behind the manor, overlooking the river. He’d taken it when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

Jason was always looking at you. 

He’s half a corpse here, strung up like some puppet without a Master. Maybe that’s what you had been. Someone who orchestrated all his good choices and tried to morph him into a better man. Someone who didn’t have his best intentions, someone who wanted him to be what you wanted-

Wait a minute. Had he- Had he started to lose his autonomy? The very essence of himself?

    “Have you got something to tell the nice man, Jason?” 

This isn’t him. Jason won’t hate you. Doesn’t hate, cannot hate- 

  “My name is Jason Todd.” 

  “And who do you hate?” 

  “Batman.” 

The Joker doesn’t use you against him as much as he does Bruce. It makes sense. He’s been pretty adamant to keep your identity safe, to keep you safe, but it only takes so long of psychological and physical torture before the resolve can crumble. 

  “Of course you do.” You watch in horror alongside Bruce as the camera pans to the bloodied, broken body behind The Joker. All this time, Bruce had led you to believe he was dead... “Do you hear that, Bats? Kid’s not yours anymore. He's mine. Mine, mine, mine. To do with as I wish. Shame you replaced him with Boy Wonder and the baby acrobat-” 

Jason’s head shot up at the same time yours did. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, gunfire rings in your ears and Jason is on the floor. 

  “You’ve seen what happens when you bring your friends into this crazy game.” 

The camera cuts, and then you’re screaming. It’s almost ironic how this situation is going. Jason isn’t the one overwhelmed by hatred at that moment. 

It’s you. 

***

  “Batman? Is that you?” 

He has to repeat it to himself every day. It’s beginning to get to him. The time that’s passed since he’s been locked up in Arkham like he is one of the criminally insane. The way his lungs continue to get considerably weaker, the pain from even the smallest movement that erupts because his body is wrapped in barbed freaking wire. 

  “My name is Jason Todd. I am in love with Blaze. Dick Grayson is one of my best friends. I was saved by Bruce Wayne.” He sways back and forth in his wheelchair with no company but the weak sound of his voice and the darkness. He’s long forgotten what sunlight feels like. “I’m Robin. I’m a hero. I’m in love with Blaze. I never told her, I never told her, I need to tell her-”

Weak. He’s given you up. After all this fighting... 

  “You’ve never been the hero, Jason. Batman and Blaze aren’t coming to save you.” Joker jeers in his ear, ever the constant whisper in his mind. He's forgotten the sound of Bruce’s voice. His encouragement. “It’s been six months now. I think it’s time to face facts.” 

  “SCREW YOU!” 

  “That’s the spirit! You’re a chip off of the old Batblock.” He nearly vomits when Joker’s hands slap his shoulders proudly, and the hunched position he’s taken from being in this chair so long sends waves of pain down his spine. 

  “Why won’t you just kill me?” 

It’s not like he hadn’t been begging for it for days. You’d move on. You’d find someone better. Dick would keep his promise because Dick was a good man and never would let his little sister down. 

  “What?!” Joker exclaimed. “No, no, no! I’m not going to kill you! Why would I do that? You’re my side kick now! Imagine it, you and me, the dynamic duo. Taking to the streets. We’d be just like Batman and that new kid of his.” 

His blood turns to ice in his veins. Jason knows his memory is beginning to distort because he’s been so focused on trying to remember your face and your voice and your joy that he’s begun to forget everything else. It’s either the concussions he’s gotten or the fact he’s spent the last two years stuck deep in an abandoned asylum being tortured for someone else’s amusement. 

  “No.. no, he wouldn’t...” Jason knew what the Joker was doing then, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care because he’d forgotten how to care. “NO!”

Days pass. Jason doesn’t sleep or eat anymore. His Robin suit is soiled in dirt and blood and sweat and God knows what else. The fabric has practically clung to him like a second skin and remains a cruel reminder of the people who claimed to love him. He knows now it’s not love. It never was. 

But he still can’t help but hear those final words in his head.

  “To coming home.” 

That’s the only thing that keeps that flicker of hope in him alive. It’s not hope in Bruce anymore. It’s hope in you. 

After the branding and the crudely burned J into his flesh made him pass out from the pain, Jason wakes up and blinks his eyes to adjust to the incoming darkness that had fallen upon him once again. Joker’s maniacal laughter echoed through the halls as it faded into silence. 

Alone. Again.

  “Not again... please not again...” Jason has been begging for Death for so long that he’s surprised it just hasn’t come to claim him yet. Maybe there is still some concept of mercy. If there is, he doesn’t plan on giving it to the Joker when and if he gets out of this wing alive. “JUST DO IT FOR GOD’S SAKE! DO IT!” 

 His eyes snap open, and the mantra begins again. Except this time.. this time, it’s a little more bleak. A little more morbid. Because this time Jason knows and acknowledges the truth. 

And well... the truth is hard to swallow. 

“My name is Jason Todd. I was abandoned to die. I was unloved, I was manipulated, I was betrayed. I did everything Bruce Wayne told me to without questioning my orders. Batman is the enemy.”

It comes in clearer with every hit, every broken bone, every scream that renders his voice raw as time passes by in minutes, hours, days, months. This is reality now. Nevermind the torture. Never mind the conditioning. This is the truth about Jason Todd.

His eyes fall upon that bloodstained picture in the corner. There’s no light left in his eyes now. No signs of Jason Todd. 

This is the truth about the Arkham Knight. Who he used to be has been buried deep beneath the surface for safe keeping. That aspect of innocence that he had been deprived of, that gentleness he’d long forgotten about. It’s a precious memory he never intends to let see the light of day again. 

So that’s why he must forget you as the girl he loved, and instead make you the girl he hates. The enemy. 

“And so is she.”

part two?? 

[ontheodderside]

Thoughts on Shifting Shadows

One of the things I’ll be shamelessly abusing this Tumblr for is sharing thoughts about the books I’ve read. And since today I finished Shifting Shadows...

Shifting Shadows is an anthology set in the Mercy Thompson world, and as far as I’m concerned it’s the very best urban fantasy books out there. Here’s why:

1. The books are really well written and then also well edited. There are no annoying inconsistencies within or between books. It’s just solid. And the author consistently delivers.

2. Mercy is a really powerful female protagonist, a great role model. In addition, she and her partner have a relationship that we can only be envious of. They support each other. None of the bullshit portrayed in Twilight. Mercy is her own knight in shining armor, thank you very much. Go Mercy!

3. The author, Patricia Briggs, doesn’t shy away from difficult topics. So yeah, that’s a trigger warning for those who need one. Personally, I think it makes for books that are both powerful and credible. Mercy’s world is harsh, but never needlessly so.

Okay, so now that you know why this is your must-read urban fantasy, let’s move on to this anthology. Honestly, I can’t believe I had no idea it existed until a few weeks ago someone mentioned it on my feed. I was pretty sure I’d read everything there was to read. And never was being mistaken sweeter!

All of the stories in this book are part of the Mercyverse, although not all characters are familiar. Overall, I loved most of the stories, with a few small exceptions.. Unfortunately, the very first story was the one I liked least. Silver is an origin story of Samuel and Bran, and - spoiler alert if you haven’t read #5, Silver Borne - it’s also (or I should say mainly) about Samuel and Ariana. My main issue with this story is that it’s short fragments put together, with very little detail to each particular one. As a result, I didn’t really buy either the love story or the tragedy. I wish I could have loved this one better, but oh well...

Fairy Gifts was a story about a Mercyverse vampire and a fae girl... about debt and about freedom. And about being able to hear the things that aren’t told explicitly. It’s unexpected and I loved the setting! I have to say that it’s been ages since I’ve read the other Mercy books, so I actually thought I remembered Thomas and Maggie from one of the installments, but I read in some other review that they are new characters. So, my mistake. I’d love to read more about them at some point though! [Update] Turns out I was right - Thomas is actually a character in Frost Burned.

Gray was another vampire story, this time one with a character I definitely wasn’t familiar with. See... when you suddenly find yourself undead, you may do things you’ll regret for the rest of your.. existence. And sometimes that means going back to where it all started... even though not everyone may welcome your presence. Tragic love. Hard to know whether to pity or cheer for the protagonist.

Seeing Eye. Oh, this was a true treat! This is the beginning of Moira and Tom, whom you know if you’ve read the Alpha & Omega spin-off. Who says white witches are vulnerable? I guess sometimes it’s the cops that need rescuing! I loved reading more about this couple and will gladly do so again in the future.

Alpha and Omega is in fact the very first book of the corresponding spin-off. It may be a short story, but it’s imperative to understanding the rest of the books. That’s why this was actually the one story I’ve already read before. This one needs to come with all sorts of trigger warnings. But you’ll meet Charles and you’ll learn about the magic of omega wolves!

The Star of David plot wise isn’t the most exciting story in the book, but I really liked seeing some more of David, whom we briefly meet in Moon Called. Sometimes, lone warriors get a second chance. Short and sweet.

Roses in Winter is a story about Asil (an important character in Alpha & Omega - the spin-off, not the short story) and Kara, the youngest wolf to survive the first few changes. In one of the Mercy books, her father contacts Mercy for help and she sends him and Kara on to Bran, the werewolf lead... but that doesn’t mean Kara is safe. After all, werewolf laws can be harsh. You’ll get to see a softer side of Asil and also a glimpse of Sage and Leah.

In Red, with Pearls is a story about Warren and his mate, Kyle. It’s a short mystery story, though I have to say that as far as mysteries go - this one is pretty predictable. Even so, I loved Warren, his dynamic with Kyle, and frankly his dynamic with everyone else, too.

Redemption may just be my favorite in this anthology. It’s a story about Ben. Yeah, the Ben who can’t say two lines without swearing. Or... can he? And what’s the real reason why he’s so grumpy with his secretary? We get a bit of a peek in Ben’s traumatic past, and here too: many trigger warnings! With that said, it’s a story about choices and about different types of dominance. If you love Ben as much as I do, you’ll love it!

Hollow is the one story in the book that’s actually about... Mercy. Mercy, Zach, two frightened people, and a haunted house. Another mystery and one I really enjoyed. But oh man... Being Adam must really, really suck.

Finally, there are two outtakes - one from Silver Borne and one from Night Broken. They are just too short to really have an opinion on. I have to say again I’m not really believing the Samuel - Ariana chemistry, but oh well - as long as they’re happy.

Overall, this anthology is a must-read if you love the Mercyverse as much as I do. And who knows, you might love different stories than I did. Let me know!