#though he honestly has no idea that he's been spoken for since the age of 12

[stiltonbasket]

lxc having the #1 Hot Guy Ranking is kind of funny? Like, he's such a sweetie that he's ignoring all of the people making googoo eyes at him? and lwj is staring down anyone that looks like they might try anthing (except nmj).

Jiang Fengmian, several years pre-canon: I want that boy as my son-in-law. :(

Nie Huangyin, watching a tiny NMJ eating snacks with LXC and JYL: I totally get where you're coming from, but that divine honor was destined for me. 😌

Jiang Fengmian: What?

Nie Huangyin, playing dumb: What??

*twenty years later*

Lan Wangji, to the general public: "I will separate your heads from your shoulders if you even think about trying anything with my Xiongzhang."

Lan Wangji, re: Nie Mingjue: "Why in heaven's name is Chifeng-zun not even thinking about trying anything with my Xiongzhang???" >:(((

[eluxcastar]

Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat. 

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it. 

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

[jacespookiebear]

ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 5

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 3-4 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, angst, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

“Hush now, Princess,” Lysanna tried her best to console you as you kept spurting tears. You blew into the tissue she gave you. “You were only frustrated..” you were all back on Dragonstone from Driftmark, except for the Ser Laenor, who was murdered, in his own home and in his father’s hall. Not only were your nephews grieving over their father’s death but you all had just came back from the wedding ceremony of Daemon and Rhaenyra. The Old Valyria wedding put all kind of emotions on the children’s faces, especially Daemon’s daughters. You and Lysanna certainly had no clue on what to feel. But you weren’t crying about that, it has been over a few weeks since you told your step-mother a heavy lie, it had you refuse to even look or speak to your nephew, Jace, ever since.

“And what of my nephew?!” you lifted your head to face Lysanna, who frowned and could not speak another word. “He will forever curse me once he finds out! He will hate me..” you continued to sob and sneeze into the tissue. Rhaenyra was there, hearing of it all. She wasn’t mad at all, no, she was quite contented! But had worried for you, of course.

Though, she had thought it was wrongful to put yourself and her family in a bad position with Alicent. Daemon thought you were fussing over nothing. Honestly, the couple wouldn’t mind if you were to be betrothed to the eldest son, your bond with Jace reassured Rhaenyra that it would be a marriage of eternal happiness and love. “Sister, stop your cries. I had no idea you had thought of Jace as a potential suitor.” She lightly chuckled. You scoffed at her comment, but said nothing . The corners of her lips lifted and her eyes glint with wonder, “Jace would never hate you. In fact, I believe this is what he always wanted.”

You got up from your chair to circle around your lady-in-waiting and your sister, clearly getting ready to rant some more. “You don’t understand!” you choked on your tears and gave yourself another break to breathe, like what Lysanna told you to. “I said a lie..a lie that is utterly unacceptable! Jacaerys said it himself—if he was to be betrothed, it would be out of duty not out of love!” you continued as the two listens, “And I have been ignoring the poor boy..I’m the worst person to have ever lived in the Realm..”

“Stop that nonsense now, Y/n,” Rhaenyra ordered, and suddenly there was a knock on your chamber doors and it began to swing, you quickly ran out of the view and under your bed:

“It must be Jace! I can’t look at him in the eye!”

You heard Rhaenyra groan at the way you hid so quickly, Lysanna laughing at the scene. Jace entered the chambers, with a frantic look on his face.

“Mother,” he muttered, turning to look around the room and once he was done, he frowned at his unsuccess. “have you seen the Princess? I searched the entire castle for her. We have not spoken since..I am worried..” you felt your heart break at his words and tone.

“My darling boy,” Rhaenyra smiled, she and Lysanna exchanged a look to each other before continuing, “I heard she might be in the gardens..but before you go, you must answer me truthfully.“

Jace stared back at his mother and gave a slight nod, wondering what she wanted to ask. He was worried it was a question concerning the Princess, you.

“Are you upset with the Princess?”

The question made Jace blink in confusion. He wondered where did his mother get the impression that he was in distress. But to answer her, he shook his head, “No. Why would I be?” he asked, curiously. Rhaenyra only smiled in return and slightly shrugged her shoulders,

“No reason,” your sister said, “be sure to tell your aunt.” Jace nodded and pardoned himself to leave the chambers, continuing his mission to look for you before having to go back to his studies with your uncle, Daemon. Once he left, you slid out from under your bed and heard Lysanna continue her laughing fit, you gave her a glare in return.

Rhaenyra got up from her seat and had plan to leave but before she could, she turned to look over to you, “You should go to him. Talk to him—he will understand. If you want my truth, I believe Jacaerys would be the perfect suitor for you.”

Your sister gave you a smile before she walked out. You bit your lip in frustration, she was possibly right. Lysanna helped you off the floor, quickly fixing your hair before you excused her to go find the twins and Luke to play in the library like always. After some time of hesitation, you finally walked through the halls of the castle and went outside to the gardens to find your nephew. Finding him was easy as he was near Meraxes, who was laying next to the trees, resting.

Your nephew looked rather stubborn when he couldn’t see you anywhere near your dragon but his face was quickly lit up when you approached him. “Princess!” he ran up to you, Meraxes slightly lifted her head and let out a huff, it was a sign that she missed your presence.

“Forgive me, my Prince,” you fiddled with your sleeves, you gave Jace a neutral smile. He looked confused for why you were apologizing, “These past few days…I have left you in the shadows..”

Jace nodded in agreement but held no ill feelings towards you. He watched as you began to pick at your skin once again and stopped you before your skin could turn red. “You must hate me.”

“I do not,” he answered, “I have missed you.”

“What a sweet reassurance.” You dryly confessed.

“You’re troubled,” Jace noted, curiously. “I wish to help you if only you tell me.” You hesitated to speak once more but Rhaenyra’s words clouded your thoughts and you grew more confident.

You gave your nephew a genuine smile and signaled him to walk with you through the gardens. “I am to be betrothed.” Jace quickly whipped his head to the side to look at you, panic spread all over his face. He did not look happy, not one bit.

“To whom?!”

“Well—many great houses had offered their sons’ to me. Uncle certainly had enjoyment in declining every offer,” you explained, “he says no lord deserves the hand of the Realm’s Beauty.”

Jace, still not convinced, he bore an emotionless expression as you finished speaking. “Are you to marry a Martell?” he asked, you shook your head once again. You were making his head spin, then who were you supposed to marry?

“It is my duty to tell you the truth,” you begun. You let out a deep breath and took Jace’s hands into yours, “I had whispered such lies about us and for that, I am terribly sorry, my sweet nephew,” the anticipation left Jace very impatient and nervous, “I have spoken on your behalf to the Queen…we would be married..” after the long line of silence, certainly you expected a harsh shove and a angered expression but instead he tightened his grip on your hands.

“I will do my best to honor you, my Princess. I am relieved to hear you say those words.”

You shook your head at his words, surely he was only saying those out of duty. You wanted his honest feelings. “Please do not lie. It was my fault, it is not my place to speak wrongfully about you and for that I am terribly sorry.”

Jace grumbled at how you pulled away. “It does not matter,” he says, “I am quite contented to know you want us to be betrothed…are you?”

His question burned into your head, you did not know how to feel or what to say. You are happy to know that your nephew was on your side, that you do not need to marry a high lord from a great house. House Baratheon and House Lannister were amongst them and were rather desperate for your hand, your uncle tells you—from the many letters they sent and offers they bargained to the King. Rhaenyra had liked the decision of offering your hand to the new Warden of the North—Cregan Stark, he was around the same age as you and is a capable fighter. But you were happy enough to know you would marry your nephew, he would make you happy and is a noble boy who has respect and honor unlike your brother, Aegon.

“I am happy.” you insisted, truthfully. 



To your answer, Jace looked relieved and sighed happily. He gave you a smile and you both continued to walk together while he began holding onto your hand.

That settles, you thought. You will marry Jacaerys.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As times have passed, 2 years to be exact, very quickly. You had just turned ten-and-seventh and your betrothed certainly had many plans in mind for his ten-and-fourth nameday that was coming up. Rhaenyra had decided to let the celebrations be held in King’s Landing, to the King’s requests. The halls of where meetings were held, you sat in front of your sister and uncle who had continued making preparations for your wedding. Your betrothed was running late, Lysanna had informed you that he slept late last night.

“I had already requested for an Old Valyrian wedding,” you reminded for the hundredth time. Your uncle, Daemon was all on board for it, you are a Targaryen and you must stick to traditions. “I do not wish to be married under the Seven. I do not believe in the Seven. This is my marriage, remind the Queen of that.”

Rhaenyra tapped on the wooden table, she received word from the Queen that she would like to also be part of the planning of your wedding. She wished for you to have a wedding under the Seven, with all the Great Houses present, but you wanted an Old Valyrian wedding. For years, you planned for your wedding to be held under the great traditions of your house. Rhaenyra was rather frustrated to be in the middle of your quarrel with your step mother but of course, Daemon found it amusing.

Your elder sister let out a tired sigh, she leaned into her seat. Although she sided with you but the Queen had very much insisted on this matter. “I understand, sister. But I have tried to reason with the Queen. I shall talk more on the matter when we arrive to King’s Landing for Jace’s nameday.” as she finished, the doors opened and your lady-in-waiting, Lysanna, arrived with a handful of letters.

“My Princess, I brought the letters that you had asked for,” she announced and you ushered her to come closer. The letters that you had Lysanna prepare to send across to the North, to her brother, the lord of Winterfell. Letting Lord Stark know you were arriving to visit Winterfell after your wedding. You’ve been planning to have a trip in the North for years now and you made sure to also bring Lysanna. She had shown to be grateful to visit her brother after years of being apart.

“Very well, Liz,” you spoke happily, you looked over at the letters with content and they were all beautifully written. Lysanna was known to be very proud of her penmanship, since she had become learning how to write, her main duties were to write all the letters that were to be sent from Dragonstone. “Have a raven send them off. And with our preparations..let us be finished, sister, I shall retrieve to my chambers.” you wished, with a nod from your sister, you had left your seat. As you left, Lysanna stayed behind to talk with Rhaenyra and Daemon about the continued demand letters from House Lannister, it’s been years since Rhaenyra announced your betrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon and yet, House Lannister had still insisted on offering Jason Lannister’s hand.

With each step towards your chambers, you grew more irritated. Irritated towards your step-mother, who wouldn’t take no for answer. You felt yourself grow mad everyday. As though you are in Dragonstone, miles away from King’s Landing, your step-mother still found a way to have a say in every decision you tried to make.

With you occupied in your own thoughts, you suddenly felt large but strong hands wrapped around your torso and pulled you inside in a room— a room that looked to be Jace’s chambers. Letting out a loud gasp, you heard a chuckle. Once you turned, you saw your betrothed. He was dressed in his training attire. Jace had grown so much, he grown to be more taller and bigger. His looks are more defined and mature, no longer possessing those chubby cheeks you had always squished when he was younger. But Jace could say the same about you.

You always were beautiful, but still you had changed, a lot. Your hair grew more longer and fuller. The curls appeared to be tighter with the years that had passed. Certainly he had watched your breasts and hips mature as well, you no longer had the ability to wear the dresses you had owned since you were twelve. Rhaenyra had the seamstress make you a whole closet filled of gowns after your ten-and-fifth nameday. Now you mainly wear blue and purple gowns to honor your betrothed’s house. You had still worn red and black gowns from time to time, though, you missed wearing white. It was a color that suited you better than any color, everyone in the Kingdom would agree.

“Ñuha hūra qēlossās,” Jace cupped your face, with your frustrations still bubbling inside you, you moved away from his touch. Noticing on your behavior, he did not urge to touch you again, wanting to respect you. “my apologies for not arriving at the planning..”

“You said you would make an effort in attending.” you remembered. As much as you loved Jace, you couldn’t help but feel a little unsure in this betrothal. Making your way near his window sill, you could feel Jace’s presence behind you.

He sighed, sitting on the couch that was nearby instead of being right by your side. He wanted you to come to him when you were ready. “Indeed I have..promised...” he knew he screwed up. You were already so tense about the whole wedding and to make it even worse, he couldn’t show up to the preparations.

Silence covered the room, it went by slowly. Jace was impatient, he wanted you to speak. To break the silence. To break the awkward atmosphere in the room. But you continued to look out the window, you watched Meraxes fly freely in the sky, Vermax closely following behind. The two became inseparable year after year, the ill tempered dragon grew more comfortable around the company of the Silver Queen. A small memory clouded your mind, one where you had to apologize profusely to the dragonkeepers who were in charge of Vermax, receiving angry roars and scratches from him whenever forced to be separated from Meraxes. You remembered being so mad at Jace who only laughed at the situation when you explained it to him.

“It appears Vermax shares the same love I have for you, for Meraxes.” Jace had once said to you. The words stuck with you ever since, unsure how to feel or what to say. It was possibly true for a dragon to share the emotions with their dragonrider.

“She wishes for us to be married under the Seven,” you muttered, confessing what is on your mind. Lifted your head to turn to look over at Jace, “who knows what else she wishes..next she will force our children to bear names that are not suitable for Velaryons..”

Jace let out a soft laugh. The thought of your children together— makes him fill with joy, though he does not show it. “I shall agree with her,” furrowed your brows at what he had said. He continued, “our children would be Targaryens.”

“Ñuha vēzos, you are a Velaryon.”

“Not when I ascend the Iron Throne.”

He is right. Once he is crowned King, he will bear the name Targaryen, meaning your children will start bearing the name Targaryen as well. Making you remember that your firstborn would inherit the Iron Throne after Jacaerys and so would their firstborn. Even when time will pass, you still could not wrap your head around those facts,

“If it bothers you, Princess, then we can name them after dragons.” the thought of having your children be named “Balerion” or “Vermithor” made you giggled. Your mind no longer remembering your anger towards Alicent but now you were ecstatic and in a good mood— all because of your future husband.

“Even if you had forgotten about your husbandly duties,” you turned your body away from the window and moved towards Jace, “you were able to help me forget all about my troubles.” you sat on the couch and moved closer to him.

“Thank you.” you whispered into his ear. Jace gently held onto your arms and wrapped them over his shoulders for you. You breathed in his scent as a way to calm your nerves. Perhaps you were wrong. In your eyes, you made the right decision in choosing Jacaerys to be your future husband, the future father to your children.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I feel like this chapter was a little more shorter than the others😒 I’m sorry about the delays. School is rough!! I was having trouble with how the story should continue but I’m adding more and more plot cus I love this fic so much it’s like my baby right now.

taglist (woohoo!): @sigynxlokiwifelover @l-3-e @audigay @urmomsgirlfriend1 @cold-v0dka @cookielovesbook-akie @theoriginalwife000 @xoxovenusquinn(would not let me tag u:( @ghalakgx (would not let me tag:( @neenieweenie @classysassynabitsmartassy @generousbearwolflight @gariben @si1versamurai @deltamoon666 @aemondssiut (would not let me tag u:( @thelastemzy @ryantryan6969 @topazy @starogeorgina @infinitleyethereal @speedypeter @dramaroomrat @potatolady189 (would not let me tag u:(

[tequila-solar-storm]

Natlan trio is soo wholesome!!! I find the idea of Mualani and Kinich dumping their grainfruit on Kachina's plate extremely hilarious HAHAHA

Speaking of Kachina I personally hc kinich being surprisingly good with kiddos. Just smth smth about how doting he is in the web event. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew how to knit. Seeing that the girls don't seem morning people I can picture kinich helping braiding their hair if he's around in the morning. Also his in game lines scream mom friend. Which is honestly adorable.

I too hc kinich as being affectionate in a quiet way but if he's directing his affection towards someone, there won't be room for doubts. Elder Leik as his father figure is absolutely canon in my heart and kinich being affectionate with him is such a sweet addition! I can definitely see it, kinich crashing at his house maybe helping with the cooking so they can enjoy a meal together. I am surprised there aren't actually fics about these 2 yet.

Also Leik knowing his son habits and just looking away is SO hilarious xD I wonder if he ever tried talking to Kinich about it and ultimately giving up (he doesn't need to know any details thank you very much)

Thank you author for answering had a blast reading your hcs!

—🌻

Previous Post

Kachina realising that she’s the real adult among the three:

Jokes aside, thank YOU for sending these lovely asks!! Answering them has been incredibly fun!!

Response under the cut! Spoilers for Kinich’s character stories + mention of ‘Kinich’s Deal’ from the Yupanqui's Turnfire Tribal Chronicles!

You’re so right about Kinich being the Mama of his group!! His relationship with the two especially so! Why stop at just braiding their hair? He’ll be helping them brush it too!

Since Kinich is canonically good at housework and other domestic jobs (Out of unfortunate necessity 😭), I won’t be surprised if he can knit as well! I can picture him knitting stuff for his friends, like new gloves for Kachina or a little pouch for Mualani! The possibilities are endless!

I do think he’ll be great with kids! Provided they’re not too intimidated by his seemingly cold demeanour + badmouthing from the adults HAHAHAHA Evidence of this is Huni and Toba, despite not having spoken to him before, calling him ‘big brother’ in CN! Which is super cute! Though it might just be a cultural thing, since Natlan in particular is pretty liberal with all their ‘big brothers/sisters’ and ‘aunts/uncles’ in CN. EN didn’t translate most of it over and I’m not sure about JP and KR…

With what he said to the Traveller at the end of the ‘Kinich’s Deal’ quest, it’s safe to say his affection for someone can’t be more obvious when it’s there!! He’ll definitely cook for Elder Leik, but looking at Kinich’s specialty dish, let’s just hope Leik can handle his spices! I definitely want to write something about Leik and Kinich in the future, but I’m drowning under a whole bunch of WIPs. So I think it’s best if I don’t start anything new until I’m done clearing through them HAHAHA

I don’t think Leik would feel the need to have ‘the talk’ with Kinich since Kinich is beyond mature for his age. He’ll probably just do the ‘ur an adult now so u make ur own decisions but remember to stay safe and yadayada’ song and dance but otherwise won’t bring it up. He’s covering his ears and closing his eyes at all the crazy rumours getting flung around. He doesn’t need to know. It doesn’t exist if he doesn’t perceive it HAHAHAHA

[darkmajesty-xo]

18+ MDNI| tw! ProHero TodoDeku, Assistant! Reader, Age Gap Suggestive

a/n : this is an unedited poorly written thot that i had for christmastime, neglected it then thought to release it for icythots birthday. i'm sorry my love you deserve better but maybe someone will like it !

midoriya is awful at hiding things.

snacks, secrets, feelings and especially presents. so, naturally birthdays are very stressful for him.

he tries his best each year but no matter how creative he thinks he is, his boyfriend always stumbles upon his hiding spots. it can get really frustrsting at times, and even though shoto says that it's okay and still pretends to be surprised with whatever allmight related collectable he gets him-- deku still wants to get this right!

so this year he had the bright idea of leaving the wrapped gift in his office drawer until the big day. midoriya is often up and out of the house by 5am for his morning jog and workout, with his bestfriend kacchan, while shoto sleeps in. however, since it's a "holiday" deku would forgo the gym sesh and drive over to their joined agency like a sneaky little elf.

it's honestly the perfect plan and he doesn't know why he didn't think of it sooner.

izuku was proudly mumbling to himself as he stepped off the elevator and into the office space when he noticed you sitting at your desk in the lobby. you'd been his and shoto's assistant for about a year now; a quirkless college grad with great references and eager to please. both men would describe you as a literal godsend-- single handedly organizing and restructuring the business aspects of their very chaotic agency.

don't judge the man, it's tough being the "on again off again" number one and japan's new "symbol of hope".

between keeping civilians safe and battling it out on the charts with kacchan every other week, he doesn't have time for paperwork and protocol. shoto, who sits comfortably at number 3, simply ignores paperwork and waits for somebody else to do it.

all of that to say that you were a super hardworking and valued employee but it still doesn't explain why you'd be at the office this early on the weekend.

"goodmorning, y/n".

you must not've heard the ding of the elevator because the sound of his voice startled you into spilling the contents of your mug all all over your keyboard.

"shit. shit. shit." you scrambled to blot the mess with your cardigan sleeves, shaking your head and worrying at your lips. deku was slightly amused. not because you'd spilled something but because he'd never heard you use profanities before. you were normally very reserved and meek. your submissiveness was something that he'd spoken about to you in the past because he felt like some of the sidekicks were taking advantage of your kindness. if deku had to list one toxic trait about you, it'd probably be that you were an extreme people pleaser. even moreso than him, and that's saying something.

"are you okay? i hope you didn't burn yourself".

you sighed, defeated, allowing yourself to glance at the annoying intruder only to be met with sparkling gemstone eyes and a soft smile. time has been well on midoriya. even with the slight crinkles by his eye and streaks of gray peppering his emerald green mop, he still looked as youthful as ever. the same deku that stole the hearts of many all those years ago- just a few more scars on his warlorn body and a softer layer to his midsection. but he looked great! if anything that extra thickness on his tummy only emphasized his mouthwatering biceps and juicy juicy thighs. he could probably crack your head open with those things.

"hey, sweetheart. are you okay?" he was closer now, the minty aroma of his cologne flowing into your space. your cheeks burned. here you were lusting over one of your very taken bosses, yet again.

"mr.deku! im fine, im fine. you just startled me is all" you breathed, brushing a stray loc away from your face. deku hummed, seemingly evaluating your strange reaction but choosing not to comment.

"why aren't you at home with your family? i could've sworn we gave all the administrative staff the day off".

"well i don't really have a family or anybody waiting for me, so i figured that i could get some work done. crime doesn't stop on the weekends" you shrugged. that didn't sit well with deku. he couldn't imagine you spending the day holed up in his agency.

"why don't you come home with me"?

it was hard not to laugh at the way your eyes widened. your mouth opening and closing in shock. it was so easy to fluster you. deku didn't know if it was due to your age or if you were just that innocent. he liked that. its perverted, he knows, but the thought of you on your knees staring up at him all doe eyed lived rent free in his mind.

"ouch, i didnt know that i was such bad company" he teased, just to get a rise out of you. and of course you took the bait. rushing to apologize. clarifying that you didn't want to be a bother. insisting that he haad much better things to do than babysit you. but deku wouldn't be deku if he took "no" for an answer, and that's how you wound up in your employer's kitchen watching him struggle to decide what he'd be preparing for his lover's birthday brunch. it was something that his friends did every year for eachother and he offered to host this time but there was one small problem…

deku can't cook.

sure he has the funds to hire a catering service but that seemed so impersonal. he wanted something that came from the heart! but after a couple tik tok videos and several pancakes on the floor- he started to rethink that decision. he then heard the little giggles coming from your direction. he turned towards you with a raised brow and you quickly put both hands on your mouth in response.

"what's so funny, little girl ?" he pointed his batter covered spatula towards you, only to get some on his freckled cheek. you laughed even harder this time, grabbing for your phone to take a picture. he liked seeing you like this, all free and relaxed.

"y'know i didn't see "bully" listed on your resume" he joked, pouting while dramatically turning his back to you. "don't expect a good reference letter from me when you go seek out greener pastures".

"oh please" you snorted, rising from your stool to join him at the stove. "where would i find something greener than your hair, mr. deku?" you teased, bumping him aside with your hip to grab the bowl of batter, "besides i'd never leave the two of you". it grew silent; the only sound being the sizzle of the batter hitting the pan. for a moment you thought you'd overstepped and began raking through your mind for save but the hero mimicked your earlier action-- softly bumping your hip to catch your attention. with flushed cheeks he smiled down at you making heat bloom witin your own cheeks.

"the feelings mutual, sweetheart".

after about two hours of cooking, with deku insisting on "mandatory snack breaks", the two of you had accomplished decenrt brunch spread with a fusion of japanese and american cuisine.

the two of were giggling over a pot of kenchinjiru when shoto sleepily shuffled into the kitchen. it was a welcomed sight to wake up to you and izuku being so cozy. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, just admiring how well you fit with his partner, how comfortable you both seemed. he could've watched you all morning, had izuku not looked over his shoulder.

"oh! hey, sho. look at what i found" izuku chirped, happily petting you on top of the head. "izuku--" you whined shyly, glancing at the heterochromatic hero.

even fresh out of bed, shoto looked absolutely stunning. his silky strands were parted down the middle, falling loosely against his tailbone. his beautifull sculpted face held no imperfections, save for his iconic scar. however, his body told a different story. standing bare, in only his boxers, you could see battle scars littered against his pale flesh-- weaving against one another like the intricate lines of a tattoo. he'd always maintained a slimmer physique than deku, showcasing a smaller waist and chiseled abs lightly dusted with a bicolored happy trail that led to his scantily clad lower regions. the sight of shoto todoroki in nothing but his skin tight boxer briefs was mouth-watered. you eyes wandered a bit longer and lower than thet should've and the icy hot hero definitely took notice.

eyes locked on your own, sauntered towards the two of you and pulled izuku into a steamy kiss. the greenette was shocked, especially when his partner's hands dropped to grip his ass. he leaned into the other man's touch, moaning softly with each swipe of his tongue. you were as still as a statue, drinking in this erotic display of passion. yes, you'd seen them kiss around the agenc before but it was never more than a light peck. this was soft porn.

"goodmorning, baby" shoto whispered against izuku's lips. kissing him softly once more before pulling away and turning towards you. you didnt know what to expect but it surely wasn't him pulling you flush against his body, big hands resting on your hips while nuzzling his cheek against your own.

"what a nice surprise".

his voice was still husky with sleep and it tickled your skin. he pulled back slightly to get a better look at you. big bright eyes, rich skin and soft curves. the last thing he epected to wake up to was you in his arms, but its not like he's complaining. it's no secret that shoto fancies you. the only person unaware of his crush was you.

for the sake of decorum and professionality, in addition to his long-term relationship, he'd refrained asking you out directly. you were the best assistant they'd had and both men could tell that you were shy, so he would've hated to scare you off. he kept his efforts subtle. one time you mentioned how sweet you thought it was that him and izuku left eachother cute encouraging messages on their desks throughout the day, so he started leaving you cute little notes as well.

"you're doing great".

"i'm so happy you're here".

"you're the perfect little helper".

"you smell nice"

you didn't get the last one, it was intercepted by izuku who felt like it was borderline creepy. he didn't have any problems with shoto's crush/obsession with you; he actually encouraged ti, especially in the bedroom. but there was a time and a place for everything.

the two of you had been staring at eachother for a while when deku's voice brough you back to reality.

"do you mind excusing us for a second, love ? i'm sure you dont want to see this old man in his undies" Izuku giggled, while nudging his partner.

"she doesn't seem to min-

"shoto! bedroom, now."

the two men left you to your simmering soup, and thoughts while they trekked to their upstairs bedroom.

"you've really outdone yourself , izu" shoto began, "i was expecing another allmight figurine, not a threesome".

"shoto, baby, you gotta relax sometimes" izuku sighed. he searched through the drawers looking for a pair of shoto's sweat then threw them at the other man's head. "i saw her at the office this morning and invited her over because aparrently she's all alone. she just thinks she's here for your birthday brunch and has no idea about your little obession with her".

"MY 'little obession' ? wasn't it just last night that you begged me to fuck you like i'd fuck her ?"

Izuku ran his figners through his hair trying to ignore the emerging stiffness between his thighs from the memory.

"i- i will admit that i am attracted to her and after spending time with her this morning i can admit that i do like her BUT i am not the one that purposely gets hurt on patrol so that she'll fuss over me, and i'm definitely not the one that calls her for literally everything just so i can jerk off to her voice over the phone, am i ?"

"i will neither confirm nor deny those statements".

"exactly" izuku rolled his eyes, "m'gonna go check on her, k?"

"don't eat without me" shoto smirked.

"perv" izuku muttered, but winked back at his handsome boyfriend. he opened the door and there you stood wide-eyed with your hand over your mouth.

his eye twitched. they'd just been busted discussing you in a very lewd manner. he was just about to apologize but you did it first

"i'm so so sorry, mr deku. i didnt mean to listen, i just wanted to tell mr shoto 'happy birthday' but then i heard you talking and i didnt know what to do because i have been in love with the two of you since i started working and i never imagined--

izuku interrupted your ramblings with a soft kiss and gestured to shoto who was already sitting on the bed, cock in hand.

"how about we make it a very happy birthday, love ?"

[justatalkingface]

Hi there,

I'd love to know your ideas and opinion on Hori going out of his way to make Bakugou the second OFA user as it was shown in the movie. Are you a fan of it?

This post has aged badly because of how long it's been sitting in my inbox, but... well, I was the one who did that, so that's my own fault.

Hahahahahah, yeah, wow, sweet flying fuck no. In a series that has been escalating in how many bad decisions they've made lately, that is one of the worst. More than that, it is telling, in this deeply concerning way, about how little Hori seems to like his own main character.

I've never watched the movie, and I have no desire to, because I'm pretty sure all that'd happen if I did would be me spending the entire movie picking out plot holes than anything, but I have done some basic research on it, and my impression is that it's very... Naruto filler-movie-y, where the protagonists get Random Power up that is basically never spoken of again (note that this is basically official confirmation of Bakugou's promotion), the same general kind of big fight sequence where both of them work together, etc.

It's just... it's just shallow, though, is the thing. At least the filler Naruto movies had the basic decency to make up whatever power up they used and threw away; here Izuku is taking one of the foundational parts of the entire story and just.... giving it away. All of his emotional attachment to it, as a Quirk, as his Quirk, as part of a legacy connecting him to All Might, One For All, and what is singlehandedly keeping him in his current place in society (since at this point he wasn't allowed to be smart anymore), and he just throws it away to Bakugou.

And then, to top it off, it just comes back to him. Some Fucking How(TM). And, because this is, again, one of the foundational parts of the fucking story, that just leaves... so many questions. So many.

Like. If the Quirk could yeet itself from hosts it doesn't like, could AFO ever really take it? Or would it Yeet Thyself from his body, and presumably take a copy of AFO with it in the process (and doesn't that mean, since there was that nod to this happening in canon, that Izuku should have Explosion now? That he literally, by Hori's own logic, has taken that fundamental core of Bakugou's character, and should be in the perfect place to invalidate his entire, badly managed and over all atrocious 'character arc'?).

Really, the more I think on this, the more I realize that that is proof that, not only was Explosion drastically warped to contort to Hori's whims, but so was OFA; OFA, originally, was just supposed to support Izuku, as an assistance to his character, but as time passed, it became clear that that was no longer true, and Izuku only existed to assist OFA. And no, I'm not even talking about the actual person, I'm talking about the set of powers Izuku's entire purpose in the story had been reduced to helping display on demand.

And the fact that, looking at it with that symbolism in mind, that movie's ending was a perfectly horrible encapsulation of what happened in the overall story, of Izuku handing his entire self identity over to Bakugou, for him to take and use however the hell he wanted.

...Fuck, that's depressing. Really, honestly, I wonder why the hell Izuku even exists. Seriously. It's clear that Hori doesn't want him, and he wants all the good Izuku things to go to Bakugou; there's plenty of manga and anime with an asshole of a main character, although a lot of early things would have to be changed to explain how that'd work...

I wonder, but I actually know that answer: beyond needing a more acceptable hero, beyond changing plans, having Bakugou as the focus the way Izuku was would, A, put a spotlight on the traits of him Hori clearly wanted to avoid doing, and B, would put more pressure on Hori to make Bakugou change in way he so clearly wasn't allowed to do, to make the reality of him match up with the narrative version so many people love (You could argue that Izuku, in a similar place, stopped changing after awhile, but at the same time his complete lack of growth is the main reason why the people stopped liking him anymore, because he stopped feeling like a person, and one of the major reasons the second half of the story became so overwhelmingly shit, to the point even people just casually enjoying the story on a surface level read couldn't miss; combining that clusterfuck with Bakugou's shit characterization is probably the only reason Hori didn't just... have Izuku die at some point so Bakugou could flat out replace him, along with shallow nods to their 'rivalry' (like this movie!) to help the story sell).

...I've gotten off topic. So, to sum up: No. No, I hate it, it's terrible, I'm glad I've never had to actually watch it happen.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Hi AKOM, I read Ian Leslie's article about "Now and Then," which you re-blogged, with great interest. Like you I believe it to be a fairly "sane take." Like many readers, I was struck by one passage specifically: "As far as we know, it wasn’t a sexual relationship, but it was a passionate one: intense, tender and tempestuous." The negation isn't necessary for Mr. Leslie to make his central point, which is that the Lennon/McCartney relationship can best be understood as a love affair. So why mention it at all? Because the idea of a sexual relationship (or attraction, even) between the two men is so offensive it has to be excluded, even though no one brought it up? Or as a circumspect way to introduce the idea to the discussion, buffered by the careful addition of "not, as far as we know?" I think it's the latter; I'd wager many readers do. And my feelings on this are mixed. Because the tone of "by no means do we want to suggest the presence of base carnal desires" is one of disapproval. Had this sentence not been in there, the love affair analogy would have spoken for itself, to be filled in by the reader at will. On the other hand, it's hard to ignore the possibility that these five words, "as far as we know," are the entire point of the article, which otherwise doesn't make a big effort to specify the exact shape of the love affair analogy. Passionate, yes. Breakup, yes. Hurt feelings and coded messages, yes. The Beatles' music as carrier of suppressed emotions—yes, but which ones? "In a sense, the music of the Beatles, which brings so much joy and consolation, is the glorious fruit of male repression. We like to think we live in a more emotionally enlightened age. We have learned to talk it out. Yet sometimes I think that is itself a kind of avoidance, or a failure of nerve. We’ve awakened from the dream, and yet seem to be more confused than ever." Is he talking about the current state of talking about John and Paul? What do you think? (I hope he expands on his analogy in his book.) P.S. I love your podcast and the hard work you put into it so listeners like me can feed their heads. Thank you for that! [P.P.S. I took out a digital subscription of the NYT because of this article, and no, I did very much not read the comments, nor do I intend to do so.]

Hello @crepesuzette2023! Thanks for writing! :) To be honest, the line "as far as we know, it wasn't sexual" didn't strike me as anything other than responsibly agnostic. I think if you ask the reader to reframe an already extremely famous creative partnership as a love affair, the natural follow-up question would be: sexual or platonic? In that event, stating he has no knowledge of it being sexual while also allowing for the possibility it might have been is exactly the right tone to take, IMO. Because that's the truth; we don't know either way. Honestly, I've been a bit bewildered by some of the tumblr response to this article. As I said, I think Ian Leslie's is a thoroughly sane take. Then again, I've been publicly talking about John and Paul as a love affair (on not just my own podcast but other peoples' as well) for years now, so maybe I'm in the belly of the beast. Don't get me wrong, it's very gratifying to read this in the NY Times! I'm excited by this shift towards open discussion in the public realm, but it's hardly scandalous. Leslie has been working on his book since 2021, I think. I don't agree with him on everything, but I think his takes on Lennon-McCartney are very good and sound. I recommend his piece on Get Back if you haven't read it. TBH, I'm not sure what the highlighted passage means. If I had to guess, I'd say he's talking about the way Beatles scholarship so far has refused to publicly accept Paul and John being in love, or contemplate what that means to their art or their lives because we have historically been too scared or cowardly. And maybe the act of creating timeless art as a display of love is much more powerful than being able to say the words to someone. But I don't really know. :) Also, this is just my (Phoebe's) response. Daphne and/or Thalia may have different takes. Thank you for the kind words about AKOM!

[thesoulesscollection]

Toppat Charles Hcs

Been wanting to do some Hcs for a while and I've always been interested in the idea of Toppat Charles. So I did my own take on the idea. May add and or update later since it's all up in the air here, done for fun really. 

Also, this is inspired by the Au; Single Father Terrence by @dark-twist-fairytaless (hope you don't mind). Since I can never get the Au out of my head. Where Terrence Suave is the adoptive father of Burt and in this Au, Charles as well. 

Warning Long Post Down Below; 

The youngest to ever become leader in Toppat history; was appointed at the age of 17 yo due to the previous leader, his adoptive father, Terrence, having mysteriously disappeared without a trace 

Due to being the clan's leader so young did have an impact on them. Constantly they feel pressured to be perfect and happy all the time 'keep smiling and stay positive' is their spoken motto

Does suffer from severe imposter syndrome, anxiety, depression, sleep deprivation, and mild snaps of spitting anger among many other hidden issues

Had a very close relationship with his father, seen as the baby of the clan, nicknamed 'Angel' so he was quite spoiled by everyone, but mostly by Terrence 

^ So Charles was devastated when hearing the news of his father's sudden, unanswered disappearance and then further stressed over taking over the leader title so soon and young

Charles has an even closer relationship with his older sibling, Burt, practically glued to the hip, both are the other's emotional support

Now at the age of 23yo, Charles gained the clan's respect, making a respected, terrifying name for themselves both in the clan and outside it.

Never bothered to assign himself a right hand, in the beginning in his hope thought his father would return. Then later, just wasn't interested in the idea and nobody really caught their attention either

^ Although he does have Reginald, the previous right hand to supervise over and act as the 'placeholder' for the empty title 

^ Besides Reginald, there was one person Charles did want to be his right hand and that was his older brother, Burt though the other declined the offer. So it's up in the air 

Nobody takes Charles seriously at first by their short, soft appearance and seemingly cheerfully upbeat attitude, sharp toothed smile always on his face. Though underneath, that positive mask, is a sharp witted, calculated young man who's extremely loyal and protective over the clan

Used to and still can be reckless in their decision making as well, as very adventurous. A very familiar trait given his father's deeds though thankfully been properly molded by Reg to be useful

Overall Attire; Color scheme is mainly white and gold with sprinkles of red meant to resemble the appeal of Angels/Angelics. White top hat with gold trims connected with a red headset. A white suit with thin gold trims, with a fitted red vest corset, black button up shirt underneath, and a white large coat that almost drapes on the floor

^ Tends to dress more flamboyant and relaxed than not whenever given the chance, for example; heels, makeup, jewelry. Or tight, body hugging outfits.

^ Honestly, Charles is more fluid in how they present themselves and genuinely dress how they please. Clothing isn't held hostage by gender for them, anything goes

[yellowkitkieran]

What the Heart Wants: Part 4

Read part 3 here

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kieran is your best friend’s older brother. Your best friend’s fit older brother that you definitely haven’t had a crush on for years. Not at all. And he certainly doesn’t like you back, that would be absurd...

Monday at training, Aaron came in absolutely beaming, his smile ear to ear and it didn't take a genius to guess why his mood was so high. 

At least Aaron hadn't bragged about shagging you. If he had, Kieran wouldn't have been able to stop himself from punching him right in his stupid, apparently very attractive face and laying a verbal claim over you then and there. 

But no, Kieran simply avoided his best friend for a few hours, trying to drown out his merry laugh by throwing himself into his recovery. And thankfully yesterday was an off day, which left him free to binge a shoddy American television drama and eat all the ice cream he could.

Now it's Tuesday and what he can't avoid is his previously set in stone commitment of dropping the pair of you at the airport for your flight back home to Scotland. He was stiff and awkward on the drive, speaking little and looking in his rear view even less. At one point, he'd even had to roll his window down because he felt like your perfume was suffocating him, filling his lungs with the flowery scent of you and confusing his senses. 

Because since his revelation two days ago, he's not been able to stop his thoughts from drifting to you, no matter how hard he tries. In the shower, at night when he closes his eyes to sleep, even when he's on the pitch- you consume every minute of his thoughts. 

What's Bug doing now? Probably with Aaron.

Oh, she'd love that book. I should get it for her. 

She leaves today. I won't see her again for ages. I should tell her how I feel.

The last bit would be self sabotage, the likes of which Kieran might never recover from. He can't let you catch on to the lust that simmers beneath the surface; if you do, who knows how you'll react? You were frosty on the drive, which he can scarcely blame you for. He's avoided your messages, not responding to the ones asking if you could see him before you leave. The last thing he wants is for things to be awkward before you head home.

"Do you have plans to come back anytime soon Bella?" Kieran fights to keep his voice from betraying his true question: will he need to deal with seeing you again in the coming weeks? 

"I certainly won't be back any time soon." Kieran stumbles at the sound of your voice, knocking your suitcase on the bumper of his car as he sets it down. "Honestly it's a great city and all, but that hangover after our night out? Fucking hell, worst one of my entire life! I don't need a repeat."

Kieran's eyes remain trained on your feet, unable to lift them or find his words to reply. God, will it always be this hard? Why does looking at you seem like some herculean feat that he can't overcome? Will he ever be able to meet your eyes again?

Bella laughs, unknowingly taking the spotlight off of him, "neither will I! We're gonna have enough time in this city when we come here for uni- I don't need to set another foot in London until we start classes."

"I dunno though… I might come back once or twice and see Aaron? Depends on where that goes. I enjoyed the time I spent with him, at least." Kieran's eyes snap up. He immediately realizes his mistake when he finds you watching him intently, like you'd only spoken to see how he'd react. He can't help but feel like he's failed some fundamental test when fury flickers across your face, there and gone.

He can't do anything right with you. Between nearly telling you off a few nights ago and apparently upsetting you now, he has no idea where he stands. And it's infuriating as well as terrifying.

Kieran doesn't want to lose you. As a friend, of course. Nothing more. 

As he always does, Kieran turns to self-deprecation to ease the unease roiling in his gut. "Wow, yeah nothing about Bella's older brother- just the Gunner's keeper huh? I see where I rank- at the bottom apparently." Kieran laughs and Bella slugs his arm. He's acutely aware of how you remain silent. 

Your voice is iced over, "yes, you do. At least Aaron doesn't ignore me when something is clearly bothering him."

"Ugh you would know," Bella quips, cutting off Kieran's reply. "You abandoned me last night for him- again! That's twice on this trip you chose a boy over your best friend!" Bella rolls her eyes in a way that lets you know she's not really mad at all. 

Kieran's shock causes his mouth to move faster than his brain. "Oh- you spent the night with Aaron? Why?" 

"Because he's sweet." You cross your arms over your chest, popping your hip like you used to when you were younger and trying to be intimidating. "And he told me how you cornered him and basically told him I'm off limits. I can take care of myself, Kieran."

But Kieran is mad. Furious even- with his friend and with you, thanks to your attitude. He doesn't deserve to be chastised like this- he was simply trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. 

His hands curl into fists at his sides, blunt nails digging into his palms as he turns a similar frostiness back on you, "wow, all it takes is one drink and the two of you get real cozy huh? Usually it takes way more convincing for a woman to-"

"Finish that sentence," you cut in, "I dare you Tierney. Finish it."

Kieran takes a step towards you, leaving mere inches between your chests. This close, he can see the freckles of color in your irises, layering over each other to create a one of a kind mosaic. He can feel your hot breath on his chin as you raise your defiant gaze to meet his. He can practically taste the venom on your tongue, swirling behind your teeth ready to poison him. 

"Fuck off Tierney," you mutter, "before you get hurt."

"Maybe I should finish that sentence," he says with equal, level quiet. "You wanna know what I was gonna say-"

Bella shoves between the two of you, laying her hands on Kieran's chest and forcing him back. "Okaaaaay and that concludes our trip to London! Thanks brother- see you in a few months when you've lost your attitude!"

With her arm looped through yours, Bella takes a step. Ultimately she almost gets yanked off her feet; you stand your ground, feet a shoulder width apart on the pavement, like your shoes are glued to the sidewalk. The way you stare Kieran down stirs something in him. His soul responds to the fire in your eyes the same way his feet are drawn to the pitch by its siren's call- he finds he can't look away. He doesn't want to look away. 

Kieran's mind wanders as the seconds tick by. Do you look at Aaron like this, like you want to devour him and slap him at the same time? Or is this a look reserved only for Kieran?

"Goodbye, Kieran. I hope you learn how to treat your friends with respect before I move here, or else you can count me out of those ranks."

Ouch. Friendzoned, hard. 

Kieran nods to say, 'message received.' Seemingly satisfied, you spin on your heel and speed walk towards the check in desk. Kieran leans against the boot of his Audi and watches until your suitcases are loaded onto a belt and whisked away. He sees you hesitate, boarding pass in hand, and he's prepared when you glance over your shoulder like you feel his eyes on you.

Kieran waggles his fingers in your direction in a mocking sort of way. Your shoulders go rigid and you shoot him the finger. Kieran tips his head to the side. Despite knowing he'll regret it later, he can't help but blow you a bitter kiss.

**********

Three weeks later

You break into a run the second you lay eyes on Aaron. He opens his arms, anticipating your jump into them and sweeping you off your feet with ease. You laugh is bright as he spins you in a circle before setting you down, smiling when your eyes meet. 

"I missed you," he mumbles in your ear, bringing a blush to your cheeks. "I'm glad you finally agreed to come visit."

"You sort of made it hard to say no Ramsdale, what with you pestering me about it day in and day out." You smile at him, unable to miss the way he's unabashedly staring at your lips. You don't mind because the feeling is mutual; you can't take your eyes off his either.

"Use my name please, will you? I like that much better." He nudges your nose with his before letting you go to grab your bags, a fact which you're thankful for considering you definitely overpacked for a weekend getaway. 

"I thought Ramsdale was your name, or did I miss a memo?" You tap your chin thoughtfully as you continue, "did you change it while I was gone? I could've sworn that kit you sent me said Ramsdale…"

"You're an arse," Aaron quips, pinching your side. "You know what I mean!" 

"Alright Aaron," you say with a heavy roll of your eyes. He perks up at his first name though, a sight which you find utterly adorable. "Where are you taking me anyway?"

"Home." The way he says it gives you butterflies, like it's simply true.

"And then?"

"And then maybe I can take you on a proper date somewhere, maybe to get some food?"

"Ooh yes, something greasy and filling- that sounds perfect!"

Once you're at his car with your bag loaded in the boot and are within the relative privacy of the front seat, Aaron leans over the center and kisses your cheek. You blush again- how many times is this man going to make you blush today?

You turn to smile at him. "What was that for?"

"Because I missed you." That's it. No frills, no expectations hiding behind his words, just plain and simple admiration. In response, you lay your hand on his cheek and pull him in for a proper kiss, just a quick peck but at least it's your lips on his. 

Aaron echoes your question, "and what was that for?"

You parrot his earlier response with a grin, "because I missed you."

Aaron holds your hand on the entire drive to his flat, helping you settle in once you arrive. When you agreed to come for a visit, Aaron insisted on one of two options for lodging: one, he'd put you up in a suite at the fanciest hotel he could find, or two, stay with him and hang out in his guest room. You chose the latter, not wanting him to spend a fortune when he'd already paid for your plane ticket to London in the first place. 

And you're glad you did- Aaron's flat is gorgeous. As a bachelor, you would've expected bare minimum furnishings and football stuff shoved in every nook and cranny, but Aaron's flat is quite the opposite. The walls, as expected, have some football memories scattered on them, but at least the kits are framed and hung squarely. A thick patterned rug covers the hardwood floor in the living room, set before a large television and an L shaped sofa that looks like the perfect spot to binge watch a show. The neutral color palette is dotted with warm reds and sunny oranges, lending a coziness to the entire space. 

The guest room he leads you to is just as impressive, the wood framed bed perfectly made with crisp white sheets and a fluffy down comforter. Aaron sets your luggage near the closet and spreads his arms wide, "so what do you think? Does it pass inspection?"

You laugh, shaking your head at him, "I'll admit I'm pleasantly surprised Aaron- you've done well with your place. Are you sure you didn't pay a designer to pick all this out- or a maid to keep it clean?"

"No and no," he replies, "I like things tidy and I've always had a bit of an eye for design. Having my own space to do with as I please definitely gives me plenty of room to explore!"

You nod appreciatively, noting the bachelor-esque touches when you look closely. A football stashed in the corner, an Arsenal scarf over the desk chair- small things that add a touch of Aaron's interests to the room. 

"Well then, why don't you give me ten minutes," you say with a nod towards the attached bath, "and then we can go grab dinner?"

Aaron's smile could outshine a thousand suns. "I think that sounds perfect. I'll change into something presentable."

*********

What are the odds that you pick the same hole in the wall pub for dinner that Kieran does? Miniscule, in a city with as many options as London presents.

You aren't even in London, and yet Kieran finds himself catching glimpses of you in half the women that brush past him. 

Her hair is the same color as yours. That outfit is something you'd probably wear. Your eyes are the same color as her top.

Kieran is starting to worry that he might be obsessed with you. Instead of paying attention to his date, he's busy picking out pieces of you.

So when you walk through the doors into the dimly lit foyer packed with bodies, Kieran decides then and there that fate has it out for him.

"Oh bloody- fuck me," he breathes, ducking his head. His date, a lovely French woman named Collette that he'd met on some app, frowns over her wine. 

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost, chérie. Is everything alright?" She lays a hand on her arm and Kieran has to fight the urge to shove her off.

"No," he answers immediately, peeking over her shoulder with a scowl when he spots Aaron taking your jacket. Praying he's hidden well enough, Kieran watches as your eyes scan the room in search of a place to sit.

Collette glances behind her with a frown, failing to see anything that might disturb him like this. "What? Kieran what's happened?"

"Just… Someone I know is here."

Unfortunately for Kieran, you point to the stools a few paces from where he himself sits. Kieran curls in on himself, fighting between wanting to be seen and wanting to stay hidden. You come into earshot too quickly, making the decision for him and forcing him to hunker down.

"...no I'm serious- keepers are the backbone of any team!" 

Aaron's laugh has the hairs on the back of Kieran's neck standing on end. "You're flattering me. I won't be offended if you tell the truth! Without strikers, no one would score and thus there would be no game."

"Yeah sure, but without a decent keeper? There would be no real challenge, no one to stop those strikers from just hitting the back of the net over and over. It would be too easy! And wingers, yeah they're important too… they help you but when that shot comes in, it's all down to your reflexes as a keeper."

Kieran is so lost in your voice that he doesn't notice his date has abandoned him. He catches a flash of her blonde hair near the exit, escaping a mediocre date that took a rather abrupt nosedive when you walked in.

Sighing and resigning himself to his fate, he leans his elbow on the bar but keeps his back toward you. Maybe if he's careful you won't notice him and he can escape unscathed.

He should leave. But your presence keeps him rooted to the spot against his will. You're like a storm he just can't escape; appearing in his skies to rain on his parade. He's helpless, unable to run for shelter because his limbs won't work. Instead he stays still, letting your voice soak him like a cold rain until a chill settles under his skin. 

"Kieran?"

Fuck. Of course Aaron knows what his back looks like- he sees it all day on the pitch.

Kieran's eyes slide shut. He wills a smile onto his face, praying it isn't plastic when he swivels and is met by your hard stare, annoyed that you've wrecked the evening. 

Kieran misses your smile. He wishes you wouldn't look at him like he's the scum of the earth, like he's the one that betrayed you instead of the other way around.

"Hey Bug- Aaron couldn't find someplace nicer to take you than this hellhole?" 

"Don't call me that." Your voice carries the same ice as that day at the airport. It slowly begins to wear him down, bit by bit.

Aaron rolls his eyes, though the gesture is more amused than annoyed. "Don't look at me, she picked it. Insisted they've got the best bar food in the whole city, though I'm not really believing that just yet."

"It isn't half bad." Kieran half smiles. His eyes still haven't left yours.

Smile at me, Kieran thinks. Just once. Come on, Bug, please… I miss you.

The past few weeks have been… complicated, to say the least. Kieran has tried to put his own feelings aside to be happy for his mate, but there's only so many times he can hear about how amazing you are without wanting to snap. His jealousy is growing into a tangible thing. He spends less time with Aaron off the pitch, not wanting to hear him giggle as he texts you or worse, when he calls and Kieran can faintly make out your voice on the other line. 

You haven't messaged him once since the airport incident, as Kieran has dubbed it. Not that you talked frequently before then, but at least he could usually count on congratulations after a good match. Now he gets nothing, and each day that passes only makes his loss more apparent. 

Kieran forces himself to speak. "How are you, Bug? Haven't heard from you in ages."

Without a hint of remorse, you spin to face Aaron without answering his question. "You know what, I'm not all that hungry actually. Why don't we just find some place for takeout on the way back to your flat, babe?" 

Babe? Babe. You called Aaron babe.

You may as well have driven a stake through Kieran's chest. So you are a thing then. Kieran truly has no chance with you, not even in this hell.

"Yeah sure darlin- See you at training tomorrow mate?" Aaron, the sweet soul he is, has no clue about the turmoil happening in Kieran's head. Aaron doesn't know that he stomps on Kieran's heart when he takes your hand and smiles at you like you're his world- the way Kieran wishes you'd smile at him.

Like you used to smile at him. 

"See you later Bug," Kieran tries, praying you'll give him something. His heart is shattered into pieces at his feet, with the exception of one small shard. That one, that last, miniscule piece, you hold in your fist and crush it with two simple words.

"Bye, Kieran."

You walking out on him is becoming a disturbingly common occurrence in his life. Kieran waits until you're gone to signal for another drink, asking for a double in hopes it'll somehow make him forget the hurt surging through his veins with each beat of his ragged heart. 

"You love 'er."

Kieran startles, glancing up to the bartender. She leans on the counter, using one hand to slide him another whisky. 

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The lass that left with your mate. She was off like a rocket when she saw ya. Must be history there."

"No history." Kieran drags a finger through the sweat on the side of his tumbler. "No love on her end, either. Obviously."

The woman's laugh drips with pity, which Kieran is too depressed to call her out on. "That answers my initial question then, you do love 'er. Why don't you tell her, lad?"

"Because she wants nothing to do with me, you've got eyes. You saw how she was with me- is that a woman who has any interest in me? Nah."

"Actually she probably does. If I were her and ya pissed me off like I'm assuming y'have, I'd act the same way if I felt something for ya. Women don't hold that much hatred for someone unless they're trying to cover something up."

Kieran squishes the seed of hope that takes root in his stomach. What does this woman know about you, or what you might feel for him? She's nothing; an outsider trying to hype him up in hopes of a fat tip. As if sensing his train of thought, she holds up her hands palms out in defense.

"Look I might not know the whole situation, but all I'm saying is there's probably something there. It's worth a shot isn't it?"

"Not if I only make things worse," Kieran mumbles, knocking back the rest of his drink. "Can I close my tab?"

The woman smiles sadly at Kieran, but runs his card and hands it back. He pauses, grimacing before murmuring, "should I message her?"

"Now? Nah lad. But in the morning? Absolutely."

But when morning rolls around, Kieran doesn't have the balls. He leaves his phone on his side table and heads in for training, hoping to sweat out his sorrows and come home exhausted enough not to care. 

[bridgertonbabe]

Are Violet’s brothers still overprotective over her relationship with Edgar in the HP AU? And does Alex still ends up with Eliza in this AU?

No Charlie, Alex, and William are far more lax in this AU. When Charlie first learnt she had a boyfriend he was initially skeptical purely because she's still his little sister and knew she had been left disappointed by previous love interests during her time at Hogwarts and didn't want her to end up brokenhearted - but once he learnt she was seeing Bernadette's older brother his concerns were instantly alleviated. Edgar Bertrand had been in the year above him at school and Charlie had thought very highly of the Gryffindor prefect and goalkeeper, having never heard a bad word spoken about him and knowing him to be an overall great guy; he honestly couldn't think of anyone else worthier to date Violet than Edgar.

Benedict on the other hand struggled more with the idea of his only daughter having a boyfriend she was utterly besotted with. For several weeks he naively thought Violet was hanging out with her friends all the time and crashing round theirs instead of coming home most nights, until Sophie sat him down and broke the news to him that their daughter was out all the time because she had met someone. At first he tried insisting that it wasn't healthy for Violet to be spending so much time with her beau so early on, though Sophie quickly pointed out how hypocritical he was being since they had been virtually inseparable and holed up in his bed for the best part of six weeks at the start of their relationship. He then voiced his concerns when he learnt that Violet's boyfriend was seven years older than her, feeling as though he could have the potential to be controlling of Violet because of the age gap; however his sons assured him that Edgar was sound and that as Bernadette's older brother he wouldn't mistreat Violet in any possible way. Benedict still stubbornly has his reservations about the young man until Violet brought him home to meet them and once he had met Edgar, Benedict had to admit that his daughter couldn't have brought home anyone more perfect for her .

And as for Alex and Eliza, they too still get together in this AU. Eliza is a muggle-born who is daunted by the wizarding world she has suddenly been thrust into and on her very first day as she nervously makes her way along the Hogwarts Express trying to find a compartment she bumps into Alexander Bridgerton; a good-looking boy she knows from the next village over where her grandparents live. She had played with him and his siblings in the local park on a few occasions and she can't believe her eyes to see him on the train to the same wizarding school she'll be attending. He recognises her immediately and cheerfully invites her to join him and his brothers and cousins in their compartment, and when he introduces her to his relatives they all welcome her with open arms and she feels a lot better knowing she's not as terrifyingly alone as she had once thought. Alex had even been generous enough to purchase her some sweets from the food trolley when it rolled around when he noticed she had left her wizard currency in her trunk, an act of kindness which does nothing to stop Lizzie's blossoming feelings for him. Once at Hogwarts she ends up as the voice of sensible (yet largely ignored) reason in her friendship trio with Charlotte and William, and she has Alex and the rest of the Bridgerton cousins always checking in on her and keeping her company whenever her mischievous pals end up in regularly scheduled detention. Much like his father before him Alex is largely oblivious to the crush Lizzie harbours for him, and he doesn't recognise his own feelings for her until the summer before his seventh year when she starts dating a local muggle boy; and suddenly Alex is infuriated with himself for not realising his feelings for her sooner.

[all-the-fun-of-the-cirkus]

listened to white light/white heat by the velvet underground for the first time. been a while since i listened to a record that actively wants to kill me

i can't decide if this album's aged brilliantly or terribly. obviously it's legendarily unlistenable and abrasive, and when it was released there was pretty much nothing that sounded anything like it. but the velvets are mega famous now, and whole genres have been invented based off their vibe. so, this album isn't anywhere near as shocking and difficult as it was back in the day, because so many artists since have copied it or deliberately exceeded it, and i can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing

because, being realistic, there's very little in the way of actual songs here. the title track is a blatant rewrite of i'm waiting for the man (although i think i actually like the rewrite more purely because it's a little more complex, i.e. it has more than two chords), here she comes now is a pleasant (if horny) breather. the rest is... otherwise, and i can't help but wonder if divorcing it of all that shock factor mutes some of its power

it certainly doesn't mute all of it, though. side 2 is where it gets real interesting, with i heard her call my name basically just being a vehicle for some wild, feedbacky guitar soloing, and i don't mind that one bit (it's a mystery to me why lou reed plays so little guitar on his records, he's really rather good at it), and sister ray...

i mean, if you're reading this i'm going to assume you're at least vaguely familiar with the band (if not, i'm amazed you got this far but hi!), but depending on your tastes a seventeen minute one chord jam with no production to speak of, featuring someone yelling semi-improvised (at least it feels like it to me, there's no way he wrote that fuckin ding-dong line so many times) poetry about an orgy and two guys just wailing madly at their instruments, for (cannot stress this enough) seventeen minutes might well be your nightmare, or your idea of heaven. as usual, i'm in between, but i did very much like it; i was flagging around nine minutes on but it gets real ferocious from that point on, and i kind of really dig the vibe. it feels like the musical equivalent of a drugged up, chaotic party careening out of control, particularly when reed begins shaking up his delivery, stuttering, slowing down, speeding up, and his and cale's soloing, as well as the ever-increasing tempo, paints the same picture

there's two other pieces, one of which is blackly hilarious and one terrifying. i couldn't tell you a thing about the music of the gift, given it's slammed right into one channel and behind the spoken monologue, but the monologue makes up for it. honestly i think most of that comes down to cale's dry delivery (with a very lovely welsh brogue, i might add), with one bit in particular not, uh, ageing too well, but there's a nice subtle wit to the prose as well, with a few choice double entendres (reed 100% knew what he was doing with "rough hands gripped his package," c'mon). not sure how much relisten factor there is to it though

lady godiva's operation, on the other hand, uh, fucking hell. if you've not heard it before, a) again, i'm a little confused why you're reading this far but cool and b) go listen to it now before i spoil it. anyway, i was expecting it to be a relative oasis of pleasantness, and the first half is alright, i guess. nice melody, nice singing from cale, but it's very repetitive. then reed comes in, like he's forcing cale out the way. then it just starts building, the instruments desyncing, the heart monitor sound effect, the vocals sliding up and down in the mix, and the song disintegrates around you, and it's legitimately frightening. again, it's the aural equivalent of a surgery going wrong and dissolving into chaos, only experienced through a fog of drugs and anaesthethic, and it's supremely unpleasant in a fashion that's impressive, but which i haven't decided if it's actually enjoyable or not. thank fuck for here she comes now, which is nothing special but you need to hear just to recover

this is certainly an experience, and i think it's an experience anyone interested in rock music should have. i'd put it comfortably third in their canon (behind the two self-titled-ish albums and ahead of loaded, ftr), and i'm glad i've filled in that gap in my collection

[fictionfixations]

1/1-1/7

"The truth hurts."

Heizou grumbled, walking down a lone path in his home village. It was so unimportant, it didn’t even need to be named! ..And he totally didn’t have to be forced by General Kujou to take over the case because no one else was free.. He just–  The detective hadn’t actually returned since he left to pursue a dream, not since.. The festival a few years back. Especially with.. the incident.. He had no reason left to stay. What, with a father wanting him to take over his work while he was still in his rebellious stage? All that would be left are pitying stares from adults that would’ve been looking down on him, so instead he had set out and made a living.  ... He isn’t that dumb to not realize that less people are leaving or entering the station. This makes him come to the conclusion that some are staying in doing work overnight (or for multiple days), and others are going out on more long distance trips. Long story short, the commission’s forces are spread thin, and therefore Heizou the renowned detective must be brought to a town regardless of his wants or desires. Or maybe he’s being overdramatic. ... ..But, anyway- Long story short, people have been going missing. Mainly people around his age, from teenagers to young adults. Ahaha, maybe it wasn’t a good idea for a detective of a similar stature to their victims to be on the case, but there really wasn’t much they could do. Barely any leads too! Therefore, he could perhaps act as bait.

I'll Tell You My Sins // Offer Me That Deathless Death

Ajax had walked around nervously, checking himself briefly to make sure he looked okay. Well- he shouldn’t have been this nervous. He hadn’t been so worried when he’d infiltrated a party in Fontaine and had needed to seduce an official (he was male, but that’s not important), but this was different.

He hadn’t been home in forever.

Well- Ajax had sent gifts and letters of course to his siblings, but.. He didn’t think his parents would have allowed him to come back, not since what is now Tartaglia, the battle-hungry hound..

Looking at himself in the mirror, he frowned, hand grasping at a white strand, which faded into blonde, and then into ginger. Ajax had heard once that those with ginger hair didn’t go gray, but rather.. white.

The delusion must’ve had more of an effect then he thought. He didn’t think it was normal for someone as young as him to start going gray- or white in this instance.

He could shrug it off as a fashion choice? Like how Scaramouche had bits of a lighter purple at the back of his head (which he only knew because he’d often steal the big hat from off his head).

Knock. Knock. “Lord Tartaglia, your ride has arrived.”

Ajax the family man sighed, while Childe the harbinger painted a smile upon his face, and opened the door. “Вы очень добры, mi amor.” He playfully spoke, slipping into his home tongue, and then into Fontaine’s. It was always said to be the love language, after all, and everyone listened more if they liked you.

The Fatuus blushed, bowing before walking away.

He almost missed Ekaterina who stayed back at Northland Bank. She wouldn’t have taken his shit honestly, which was rare considering his status. There are plenty of horror stories spoken between the newbies about how scary the Harbingers are (he’s been there, he’s heard them himself), and how they’d probably cut off your arms and legs for the smallest of errors, so they’re always tense and never lecture him, no matter how childish he acts.

You Don't Need Treats // You Don't Need Tricks // And You Don't Need Me

Deku gave a small smile, watching as Kacchan stood at his grave. That’s all he did now. Watch. He recalled the theory that ghosts stayed when they had regrets.

..His regret must’ve been being unable to see Kacchan grow up into a hero he had always meant to be, besides not being able to get a quirk. It was only logical.

It was sad, though. Kacchan had so many friends now. Sometimes he felt jealousy pulse through him, making him shake. All he was, was just a figment of his past. He should’ve felt happy that Kacchan was able to be himself, and enjoy it without him, but it hurt. It hurt so bad. It hurt more than anything Kacchan’s quirk could do. Because it wasn’t fair, and if he thought, he could pretend that he was there, and that they were his friends. 

But anyway.. He followed Kacchan for a long while, until he heard of a little girl with white hair from the teachers (it was so easy to eavesdrop while Kacchan did boring things).

So of course, like any person would, he went to see the little girl. She was in a kids room filled with toys, and looked so adorable! He squealed, hovering closer, only to jump when she did, staring at him.

Deku’s eyes widened, recoiling. “You– can you see me..?”

Immediately he became aware of his ‘appearance’.. Blood dripped from his forehead, staining his fluffy hair, and he was in Aldera’s uniform, albeit blood covering most of it as well. It was not a pretty sight. His sadness grew when she didn’t seem to care about how bad he looked (how bad was it, when a little girl is completely insensitive to a sight?) 

“Mmhmm!” The girl- Eri, he recalled, nodded.

Hope ran in through his veins immediately. After all, if she could see him, then who else could?

“Ah.. My name is Midoriya Izuku. What about you?” He gave what he hoped was a kind smile, drifting down and sitting on his knees to better match heights. 

She stared at him for a moment in wonder, before reaching out.

Deku blinked. “Huh? Are you trying to..-”

A gasp left his lips as suddenly he was wrapped in warmth, and there was a bright light–

Every Word you Say on a Throne of Lies // That Fail to Come to my Surprise

@Analyst Viridian

The world is unfair to the quirkless. I’m sure you might be thinking, ‘how so?’ Let me explain.

When one thinks about someone who is quirkless, they think they are useless. Either that, or pity. They think the quirkless are fragile and baby them, when they are just as capable as you and I. You’ll either think of that as, ‘no way! You’re lying’.

They are just as capable. Think about it, many heroes out there fight quirkless, such as underground heroes (no names, they’re underground for a reason), or heroes when they have a bad quirk matchup with a villain. After all, it is bad to overly rely on your quirk should a time come that you can’t use it, be it too dangerous, or you can’t use it in general. For example, if you had a touch-based quirk against a long-range. 

You’d have to fight quirkless because there isn’t much you can do unless you have someone else there to support you in some way. Or maybe, say, Midnight against Snipe. She’d have to get close for her quirk to be in effect, while Snipe doesn’t have to worry about that. If she were alone, she’d have to basically fight quirkless since her quirk wouldn’t be the best matchup, at least until she gets close enough.

To Be Started: Chapter 5 of A Mimic in Disguise ( i dont know what im doing with this story anymore. well i have ideas but writing no longer haunt my thoughts when im trying to sleep so i have no motivation. ive been reading a LOT of fics and anime and manga and books and light novels.)Chapter 2 of Echoes of a Past Unknown (so sorry for the cliffhanger aghhh, idk if i want to keep writing dsmp stuff) Chapter 2 of Cheating Death (IM SORRY IM IN MY MHA PHASE NOW        ....wait but its happening IN mha... im so dumb (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻     dude i dont have any ideas, any i mightve had i didnt write it down omfg my memory..) note: since my keyboard is broken and im using a on screen keyboard to type now, i think its safe to say its gonna take longer to write my usual 1000 word minimum. do i like change it from one week deadline to a month?? but i might get lazy      but i already am   aghhh

ive been neglecting my channel 

well loss of motivation usually = break

but technically i already do that

aghh

anyway here ig

[fandomsimagined]

Devotion (Tartaglia x Reader)

Pairing: YanTartaglia x Reader

Summary: Childe wants nothing more than for you to be his and him to be yours… he doesn’t care if this isn’t your typical love store. He loves you. You love him. That’s all that should matter and that’s enough to make it your love story. You might think he doesn’t love you, but you’re very wrong. He loves you more even. He’s willing and happy to fight for you. You might not believe him now, but you will. He has a plan to prove his devotion.

Warnings: Not a healthy relationship at all. Background character death, referenced murder? Misplaced office reference and use of the terms ‘mistress’ and ‘girlie’. Other than all that you know not that bad

A/N: We’re still working on getting all of our blog figured out and set up all nice but an important note is that we are both well over the age of 18, and both very well aware that this is not okay behavior and just fiction! Please note the same (:

Childe loved you. He really did. You didn’t want to see him anymore though… he could vividly remember you walking away with tears welling up in your eyes and pain evident on your face. Truthfully, it shocked him beyond disbelief and had he not been completely blind-sided he would’ve reached out at that very moment to stop you and explain. Of course, when his mind fully grasped what was happening, you were already gone and he… well he hurt like hell.

“You know I love you… but clearly I- Well, you meant more to me than I did to you-“ Childe did have enough common sense to interrupt there, denying it of course, but you had stopped him, “You’re married. I loved you and to you I was just your mistress. I… can’t see you anymore. It’s not fair to any of us. Bye Ajax…”

Obviously now that he was thinking about it, it still only somewhat made sense that you felt that way. It’s his own fault, he knows that, because he should’ve explained to you that logically it might seem that way, but it simply isn’t the case. Had Childe not been frozen in place he could’ve assure you that you were absolutely his soulmate. He hasn’t even thought about being with his wife since he laid his eyes on you. Childe should’ve told you that before you’d even spoken he was already talking to his lawyers about filing for divorce. He’d even taken you to meet his family on several occasions! Why would he do that if you meant nothing to him.

He wanted to be a little angry at you for even thinking that. Why would you think that? But that’s his fault too. He know he should’ve been upfront with his relationship status. He knows that you’ve always been so kind and understanding, if he would’ve told you upfront that he was going through a divorce you probably would’ve tried to comfort him. Honestly, he was going to tell you, he just wanted everything to be finalized first (he had no idea how long it could be drug out). Once you’re back in his arms he’ll worry about how you even found out and who would’ve possibly told you when he’s been so very careful about subject matters that come up.

Anything worth having is worth fighting for. He can’t exactly remember where he heard that quote, but it’s stuck with him. Especially now. Childe wants nothing more than for you to be his and him to be yours… he doesn’t care if this isn’t your typical love store. He loves you. You love him. That’s all that should matter and that’s enough to make it your love story. You might think he doesn’t love you, but you’re very wrong. He loves you more even. He’s willing and happy to fight for you. You might not believe him now, but you will. He has a plan to prove his devotion.

The hardest part was convincing you to come. Childe hopes that when you finally agreed it was because you missed him and changed your mind. Realistically it’s easy to tell by your tone that wasn’t exactly the truth, and the words that follow don’t help much either: We can talk, you can explain and that’s it. Still, you agreed to see him and that was enough. He can do the rest.

When you knock, Childe is too excited to notice you’re a little earlier than planned. Too excited to realize he should probably change. He excitedly flings the front door open with a warm, lopsided grin plastered on his face. You must’ve wanted to see him more than you let on because your cold exterior is slowly melting away and you’re trying not to crack a smile of your own.

Yes, Childe looks a little disheveled (perhaps a tiny bit tired), but other than that he looks normal. Well, it is Halloween and Childe isn’t the one to skimp on holiday, so you’re not all that surprised to see him all dressed up for Halloween. Maybe a little surprised since he’s alone and it’s early in the day. Either way seeing the fake blood splashed all on his clothes and face is a little amusing and not exactly what you would’ve imagined him to choose costume wise, “You must be taking Tuecer trick or treating later.”

Thankfully he’s always been quick on his feet, it only takes Childe one glance down at his clothes to piece together your observation together. Great timing really. “He doesn’t know yet, but I thought I might surprise him. He asked if you would wanna come with him the other day though.” Childe ushered you in, quick to close the door behind you and ignore the way your face fell.

“You said you wanted to explain.”

“I do. I will. You said I only thought of you as someone on the side, that I didn’t love you and that’s just not even close to true. I had divorce papers drawn up before we met, with proof, they’re dated. I’ve taken you to meet my friends, my family, hell I’ve even taken you to work functions! And what do I always introduce you as?”

You assumed that perhaps it was a rhetorical question, but the more he stared at you with expectant eyes, you knew he was waiting on an answer. Challenging you to say it. “You didn’t tell me though. Why wouldn’t you tell me something as important as that?!”

“I didn’t want you to think it has any bearing on us, like you were a rebound or getting with someone who wasn’t fully committed. I had ever intention of telling you as soon as it was final. I was only waiting on a signature, which I got today.” He looked a little triumphant at that, “Come on, what do I call you?”

You did love him. It was hard not to do so. He was charming, handsome, loved spoiling you, sweet to his family, funny and sure he could get a little jealous or overprotective but in the right setting that was kind of attractive too. Your friends begged you not to meet with him. Something about how they knew you would fold when those pretty blue eyes were staring at you, that Childe always knew how to get what he wanted and you were no expedition. You would admit… your will power was starting to waver, “You haven’t even apologized to me and you’re definitely the one in the wrong.”

He drew closer, a dangerous glint in his eyes, like he knew his hard work was about to pay off. “I’m sorry. Don’t keep me in suspense though, girlie. What do I always call you?”

Childe had you wrapped in his arms before you knew it and much to his pleasure you mirrored the affection without much coercion. A sigh escaped your lips. Did you ever really stand a chance, “The love of your life.”

“Because you are. I’m all yours and I’m sorry I wasn’t forth coming at the start, but don’t don’t my devotion to you. I’d do anything for you…” Childe really meant it.

He would be getting you back tonight. Failure hadn’t been an option. He had already gotten rid of the thing keeping him from you completely (not before promising she could leave if she signed the damn paper already). The door had been locked as soon as you stepped in, literally and metaphorically. But he wouldn’t deny that seeing you willingly give into him felt so much better.

[forestlingincorporated]

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People. 

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them. 

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent. 

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.) 

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction. 

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children. 

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically. 

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation. 

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear. 

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect. 

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?) 

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but... 

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7. 

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.) 

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics. 

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two. 

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about. 

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural. 

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries. 

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance. 

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other. 

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent. 

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart. 

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist. 

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well. 

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child. 

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive. 

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you. 

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt. 

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh... 

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating? 

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting. 

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t. 

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so. 

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet. 

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom. 

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought. 

[sundaysundaes]

Revival

Jung Jaehyun X Reader feat. Haechan | Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmate AU | NC-17 | 15k

Summary: When fate brought Jung Jaehyun to you, it didn’t feel like your first time meeting him. And with him, smiling at you like his heart shattering to pieces, eyes painted with longing, you knew you were connected to him somehow. You just have to find the answers before it’s too late.

Warnings: sex scenes (both with Jaehyun and Haechan), mentions of death and suicide 

For my lovely cinnamon bun Esme @rainydayswithnct​ I couldn’t think of anything else to give you but this. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, I hope this will make you happy ❤️

His eyes… They remind you of the ocean after the storm. 

It’s not the color as his are dark brown, like the freshly turned earth after rain. It’s the feeling, the way they glimmer under the soft evening light, calm and steady, but in a way, emits sadness, yearning for something. As if he had been crushed, trapped inside a hurricane for so long, he was about to fade into the void. And as he peered into your eyes, full of depths and secrets you long to unveil, something tugs upon your heartstring. 

It’s not love at a first sight. You’ve experienced that before with Lee Donghyuck, the lover whom you share frantic kisses and desperate touches with. But it’s something more intense, something you can’t even begin to fathom, something you wish you understand.

The second your eyes are locked to each other, it’s like you’re electrocuted, starting from the tip of your hair down to your toes.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, your voice sounds like you haven’t spoken in years. A tiny red spot begins to form on his chin from where it made contact with your head earlier. “I was looking for a book so I wasn’t—I didn’t see you there.”

The man, young enough to be around your age with a gaze wiser than most, has an expression of a heartbroken man. There’s pain that fleets through his eyes, a feeling that he quickly hides with a smile too bright to be genuinely coming from the heart. When he speaks, his voice is both rich and soft, deep and tender. “No, it was my fault.” He shakes his head. “Please don’t apologize.”

You want to reach out to him, want to know why he looks like he’s seconds away from breaking apart, want to ask him whether you’ve said too much or too less. But he’s nothing but a stranger and you don’t want to step out of the line. “Were you looking for a book?”

“Yes, umm…” He points his finger towards a book hidden in the shelf behind you. “That one.”

You follow his direction, smiling when you read the title written on its spine. “No wonder we bumped heads. I was aiming for the same book.”

“Oh, then it’s fine,” he says, pushing the book back to you after you handed it to him. “You can take it.”

“No, please, go ahead. I’ve read this too many times already.”

“Me too. So—”

“I insist.” You press the book to his chest, looking up at him. He looms before you, standing 180 centimeters tall that you have to tilt your head up to match his line of vision. You catch a sniff of his scent, the smell of soap and aftershave, thinly layered by cologne. His eyelashes are long, face framed by strong jawlines, brunette locks falling over his forehead. When his lips curve up, pretty dimples start to form in his cheeks. He looks like a painting, a thought runs through your mind, one that you hastily dismiss. “Take it as a form of my apology for bruising your chin,” you add.

His eyes widen, just for a split second before a soft chuckle reverberates from his chest. When he speaks again, it’s almost like a whisper—like a secret never meant to be told, “I can never win against you.”

You barely catch his words. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. “I’m… I was about to borrow this and grab some coffee. Would you care to join me? I’d love to talk more.” His body language indicates that he’s nervous which you find rather endearing. “I mean, It’s hard to find someone who has a similar taste like mine.”

Your heart convulses. You know how grabbing some coffee together tends to lead to something more. Your boyfriend’s name pops in your head but your lips betray you before your brain can form a warning. “Well, I do have a peculiar taste when it comes to books,” you answer with a smile. “Sure, as long as you tell me your name.”

“Right, sorry.” You love the sound he makes when he chuckles, and you love it more when it echoes louder in your ears. He offers his hand, stretching out his lean fingers. “I’m Jaehyun.”

You expect it to be soft just like the way he’s gazing at you, but his palm feels calloused against your own. When you reply to him with your name, he seems stunned but doesn’t stay still for long. Your name flows out of his mouth so naturally, as if he has been calling you for years, like a soulmate to another. It feels like electricity is running through your veins once more, something that you’ve never experienced before.

It takes around ten minutes to walk from the library to the nearest coffee shop and by then, you’ve caught on the little gestures he makes: the way he forces himself to laugh a little when he notices he’s being too straightforward; the way he clears his throat when he feels like his words have more hidden meanings than they let on. You’ve become aware of his passion and the love he has for books, so strong that it can only be matched by your own. You’ve learned about his dream, a novelist in the making, taking his first baby steps to turn it into reality.

“Have you thought about what kind of story you’re planning to write?” You question as you slide your cup closer with hot, black coffee shimmering inside. Before you take a sip, Jaehyun drags a sugar bowl toward your direction. “What?”

“It’s too bitter for you.”

“You think I can’t handle my coffee?”

“It’s not that.” He clears his throat and you wonder what is it that he’s trying to hide. “The coffees here are always too bitter.”

“Yeah?” You taunt him, smirking. “Well, watch me.” You take a sip, about to wince when the bitter taste hits your tongue but you act unfazed. Smacking your lips, you say, “See? I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No. Give me the damn sugar.” 

It doesn’t take long before Jaehyun’s little laughter becomes one of your most favorite sounds in the world. 

“I’m planning to write a romance novel,” he responds to your earlier question.

“Romance, huh? To be honest, I see you more as someone who writes detective stories. Never would’ve pegged you as a romantic.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be more than just a romance story. It has a supernatural element to it. Borderline fantasy.”

“Like what?”

He takes a few seconds before he responds quietly with a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll just have to read to find out.”

“Cheapskate.” You purse your lips. “Is it going to have a happy ending?”

“Well, they’ll be separated by death in the end.”

“No,” you drawl out. “What happens to them? You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me about it.”

“Of course, I can.” There’s a tiny smirk creeping up his lips. “I’m the author.”

“And a jerk too, apparently.” You’re worried you might go too far with your joke but Jaehyun still peers at you with that warm, longing eyes that make you curl your toes.

“Fine, then,” he succumbs. “Since you insist, I’ll give you a hint later. But you’ll have to imagine the rest.”

“Then tell you about it? What if you steal my idea?” You raise an eyebrow, teasing him. “I happen to have a very creative imagination.”

“I promise you I won’t. I’ve finished writing my version of it. I’ll let you see it after you tell me yours.”

“Huh, interesting.” You pretend like you’re rethinking your decision, just to get him a little bit hopeful and nervous by it. “Deal, why not.” Your coffee has grown slightly cold but the sugary taste of it serves as an addiction. “So, does that mean we’ll see each other again?”

“Well, I do have to go back to the library to return the book. So, hopefully, yes.” You both exchange stares, sharing sheepish smiles with you breaking away first, bringing your focus back to your coffee. “I’ve never seen you in the library before,” Jaehyun questions, “Is today your first time visiting?”

“No. I’ve been visiting it almost every day for the last… two weeks, I think? It’s near my workplace so I usually drop by after work to read for an hour or two. My apartment is pretty small so it feels a bit cramped. That’s why I enjoy spending more time outside.” You swirl your spoon, watching the little whirlpool you create inside your cup. “Besides, I can’t read at home.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s…” You awkwardly laugh, waving one hand in the air. “I have a boyfriend who is younger than me and he’s a pretty lively person. It’s hard to focus on your book when someone keeps pulling you into conversations.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop tapping against the surface of the coffee table but it’s too fast for you to notice before he starts again. “Isn’t it better to have someone like that rather than to be alone, though?” He counters, the smile on his lips never falter but the one in his eyes does.

“I…” It’s not apparent but you can sense it, the painful look on his face. It feels like you just said something that hurt him so badly that you want to apologize about it. “Yeah… I guess so…”

Maybe he notices you noticing, which is why he tries to mask his feelings better with a wider smile that does reach his eyes this time. “Why do you choose this library?” He diverts the topic. “There are a lot of new ones in town, bigger ones too. This place is pretty old and dusty.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You nod, sighing. “Okay, don’t laugh, but honestly? It just feels somewhat nostalgic to me. The first time I stepped inside, it felt like I’d been spending all my life there—just sitting on that old couch, reading books, enjoying the silence. It just feels familiar, even more comforting than being in my room. It’s weird but I can only feel at ease when I read there.” Jaehyun stays quiet that you have to lift your head to understand what goes through his head. His face is pensive, undecipherable. “What about you? What’s your reason, Jaehyun?”

He stops breathing at the sound of his name escaping your mouth, his shoulders tense, and only after what feels like hours, he finally has the strength to drag his eyes away from yours, bringing them down to see his interlaced fingers lying on the table. 

“It’s just closer to my place.”

***

“Hey, babe.” Donghyuck chirps with a lollipop stuck in his mouth, his fingers running through the keyboards, eyes locked to his computer screen. He can tell that it’s you who just slipped through the front door by the sound of your footsteps. “You’re late. Did you get the puddings I asked you?”

“They’re in the fridge.” You take off your coat and unwrap your scarf from your neck before you stroll toward the living room. You can’t remember what or who initiated it but it has been almost six months since he started living in your apartment. You remember how he used to spend just one night at your place on the weekend, then two when he felt a bit needy for your touch. Before you knew it, his personal belongings were scattered all over the place—his hoodie on the couch, his towel on the bed, his toothbrush on your sink—and he could be spending the entire week at your place, only moving once to his apartment when he ran out of comic books to read. It just came so naturally that you didn’t notice at first but by the time you did, it was too late to even bring the topic to the table.

Being with Donghyuck was easy, casual, and he gave you more reasons to laugh over little things more than anyone else. During the first two months, you acted like newlyweds with him peppering kisses on your face whenever you arrived home from work. Unlike you, Donghyuck is a freelancer and he does most of his work at home. He used to be considerate enough to do some chores for you—cooking, cleaning the bathroom, sometimes even doing your laundry when he felt he’d been neglecting you. Whenever you arrived late, he would’ve always had something prepared for you, beaming at you with a contagious grin while chiming, “Finally, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you and I’m starving. Today’s dish is your favorite so let’s eat!”

But things are bound to change and happiness doesn’t last forever. It started slow, almost unnoticeable, with him forgetting to kiss you good night before bed and you treating the fact that he no longer paid attention to what you were wearing as normal. Nowadays, he doesn’t have enough affection to greet you with his smile—one that used to shine brighter than the sun. Comforting hugs and welcome kisses are long forgotten.

It’s lonely, but it’s fine. He’s still here. Donghyuck is still yours as much as you are his.

It’s fine.

“I met someone today,” you say, reaching out to stroke his dark hair. It’s so soft and fluffy like a dog’s fur and you find it calming just to card your fingers through them. The feelings are the same, only his reaction isn’t. He used to lean into your touch as a kitten would. Now, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. 

“A man?”

“Yep.”

“Is he hot?”

“Well, he’s not ugly.”

“Then don’t get too close to him.”

Donghyuck is the jealous type, he’s always been—sometimes even a bit possessive but it makes you happy to know there’s someone out there who cares about you so much he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else. But not today. Today, his words feel empty. You can tell that he doesn’t mean any of them. He just says them as a joke, maybe out of habit, but certainly not a warning.

“What will we be having for dinner?” You ask him when he’s busy shouting foul words to his screen as his character just got shot dead.

“Jesus—left, you moron!” He groans loudly in to the air before he turns around, finally recognizing your presence. “What? Oh.” He pops the lollipop out of his mouth. “I just had some take-outs.”

“You didn’t wait for me?”

“I was dead hungry, but I ordered some for you too. It’s probably cold now but you can heat it up.”

“Can you do that for me, please? I love it when you add more seasonings to it.”

“I’d love to do that but,” he smiles apologetically, his fingers meeting the keyboards once more. “I’m busy, babe. There’s an event going on and Jeno literally won’t let me take a break. Look, I’ll cook for you tomorrow, I promise.”

You have stopped believing in his promises, or at least, don’t allow yourself to believe. You’ve learned that the best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything.

You smile back, push his hair away so you can land a kiss on his temple. And no matter how much your bottled-up feelings are about to burst, you don’t say a word.

Because you know silence is what keeps your relationship alive.

***

That night, Jaehyun appeared in your dream.

He had a different hairstyle, a little bit shorter, color’s a shade darker. He was dressed in an old-fashioned way—a white buttoned-up shirt under a brown blazer that was a couple of sizes bigger than it was supposed to. Nevertheless, he looked just as strikingly handsome as he was in real life.

He took off his fedora hat, bowing when his eyes met yours as he entered the library—the one that you always visit. “You look beautiful today,” he said, smiling like he always has from the first time you saw him but it felt different in the dream. His smile was timid and shy, eyes never stayed long enough to be locked with yours, but they were honest. The way they shimmered in adoration at the sight of you, painted with both desire and affection.

Your body went autopilot, words flowing from your mouth before you could even process the situation. It was like you were residing in someone else’s body, just a bystander. “Are you saying I didn’t look beautiful yesterday?”

“No, that’s not—” At the sight of you covering your smile behind your hand, he sighed, pressing his hat to his chest. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m sorry. Which book would you like to read today?”

“Will you choose one for me?”

“Unfortunately, I have a peculiar taste when it comes to books—”

“I trust you.” He smiled a tad wider, perfect teeth peeking behind soft red lips, and you could feel your lips curving to mirror his. 

“Well then,” you said, reaching toward a bookshelf. “Why don’t we start with this?”

It ended without you knowing what book it was nor the line between your dream and reality. They stand out so vividly—the scenery, his expressions, the lines you’d exchanged with him—that it takes you a few good minutes to realize that it was just a dream and not a memory.

You couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

***

The library is indeed old, with walls standing in dire need to be repainted. But the faint smell of sandalwood combined with the orange tint of sunlight sneaking through the windows is comforting. Crowds don’t gather much around here—maybe four or five people at most—and you’re consoled by the tranquility. There’s only a soft thrum of acoustic guitar playing through the speakers that keep you company.

And Jaehyun.

You meet him every day when the sun is an hour away from setting. You don’t chat for long, spending most of your hour reading your chosen book for the day while stealing glances at him scribbling stuff down on his notebook.

“Why don’t you use a laptop?”

“Not fond of it. I feel more like a writer this way,” Jaehyun responds, re-reading the words he just wrote on paper. When he notices you’re giggling, he frowns. “What?”

“You’re like my dad.”

“Then I’m sure your dad is a very smart, tech-savvy man.”

“I’m saying you have an old soul, the way you prefer to do stuff more traditionally.” You sink further into your chair, opening a new page, eyes scanning the lines but not reading them. “Well, I guess that makes the two of us since I already have the e-book version of this on my iPad and I’m still here reading it in a library. How’s your story going?”

“Pretty well. I just came up with a really annoying character.” His smile is a bit different this time, somewhat mischievous. “Inspired by someone.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?”

Jaehyun drags his pen over his note. “Character A begins to question her—”

“Shut up!”

The more time you spend with him, the more you feel like he’s becoming a mystery you can’t solve. You’re closer to him, closer than any of your friends, but you know there are secrets he tries to bury underneath those tender smiles. To you, Jaehyun, with his eyes that always seem like they’re telling a different story—one that nearly drives him to the brink of tears, still seems like an incomplete puzzle. And if time allows you, you’d gladly collect every piece of him to be able to perceive him better.

***

Jaehyun visited you in another dream.

This time, you were walking next to him beside a beautiful pond in a backyard that seemed familiar enough to be your own. Both of you were dressed in traditional clothing and you wondered whether a ceremony just occurred.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding your hand.

“I don’t know, maybe,” you heard yourself mumble, body moving beyond your control. “I just feel like we’re moving too fast. We just turned twenty.”

“Are you having doubts?” He intertwined your fingers better and you noticed how his were shaking slightly. “About me?”

“Of course not.” You turned around, reaching up to caress his cheek, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “Jaehyun, this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I want to be with you, there’s no doubt about it. I’m just thinking about our future, that’s all. What will we do with our jobs? Our money? What will we do when we have kids—”

“It’s just like you to overthink about stuff,” he tittered, “We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

That earned him a pout. “I’m not overthinking about stuff. I’m planning them.”

“Of course, my bad.” He kissed your inner palm once before he let you frame his face again, his hand pressing against the back of your smaller one. “Thank you.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For everything. For caring, for worrying.” Jaehyun smiled so gently, it was almost heartbreaking. “For being with me. Perhaps it’s immature for me to say this, but whatever future that lies ahead of us, I’m sure it’s filled with nothing but joy as long as we’re together.”

“That is such an embarrassing line to say.” You giggled and the blush that bloomed on his face was instant and striking but before he could say a word, you pulled him into your embrace, resting your cheek against his chest. “As long as we’re together, huh?” You repeated quietly. “Then will you promise you’ll stay with me forever?”

“I promise.” Jaehyun’s smile was pressing against your hairline. “Not even death can separate us.”

You wake up with a cold sweat, your heart thrumming so loudly, it makes you feel nauseous. Donghyuck shifts around in bed at the sound of you gasping for air, sleepily asking what’s wrong as he rubs his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you tremulously utter, a hand on your chest as if it could do something to steady your racing heart. “Go back to sleep.”

Donghyuck sends you another look with eyes barely opened. “Come here.” He tugs you closer to his chest, his nose grazing the crook of your neck. “It’s just a nightmare,” he murmurs drowsily against your skin, and in a matter of seconds, he drifts back to sleep.

“Yeah…” You swallow your breath, Jaehyun’s name resting on the tip of your tongue. “Just a nightmare…”

One that feels too real.

***

Weeks turn into months, and what started as curiosity becomes affection. 

Reading books has turned into nothing but an excuse for both of you to spend time together. What started as stealing secret glances at each other has morphed into an exchange of secret whispers in a secluded corner. The questions have become more personal too, and you find yourself talking about childhood memories and nonsensical ideas that show up in your thoughts, even the ones you have never shared with anyone else, not even to Donghyuck who lends his arm for you at night.

It’s only the dreams that you keep quiet about, as they always revolve around him since the first day you met Jaehyun. You’re not sure why, maybe it’s a way of your subconscious trying to tell you that you have feelings for him—feelings that aren’t meant to be shared with friends—as the dreams tend to play romantically. And you can’t deny that you do feel something about him.

It’s hard not to feel anything when Jaehyun has given you everything you’ve ever asked from a person. From a friend. From a lover.

But it’s not love. Definitely not love. At least not in the way you know of. In your mind, love is in the form of hugs you share with Donghyuck, not in the way Jaehyun lands his eyes on yours. Love is—

Your head swirls. What is love?

The concept of love is so complex that even if you know about it, you’re not sure if you understand it enough to experience it. You have never talked about love, not with your boyfriend, not with yourself. Is it something that you’ve already felt once? Are you in love with Donghyuck—the man you’ve spent the last two years together?

What does he think of me? You start to lose focus, sinking into your thoughts and the soft music playing in the background feels like a lullaby. Does Hyuck love me?

Before long, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. You fall asleep with your arms folded on the table, cheek pressing against them.

You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming of a hand, so warm and tender as it brushes stray hairs from your temple. You’re dreaming of a voice, so familiar to your ears, so quiet and heartbroken as it resonates in whispers. You’re dreaming of a pair of lips, so soft and light as they press against your strands.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember me. It’s okay, so please…” Slender fingers curl around your wrist, bringing it to frame a face with skin as soft as porcelain. “Just come back to me…”

You wake up. 

Jaehyun is sitting on the other side of the table, pen tapping against his lips as he reads back his work, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He notices the little shift in your movement, immediately beaming at you with his signature smile. “Hey there, Sleepyhead.”

You rub your eyes before sitting straight on your seat, your hair’s astray. “What—How did I—” A coat is slipping through your shoulders and you catch it before it meets the ground. It’s Jaehyun’s. “Umm—t-thanks,” you mumble, handing it back to him.

“Sure,” he responds. “You were shivering so…”

“Oh… Right.” You certainly don’t feel cold now especially when your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “W-what time is it?”

“Around eight. The place’s about to close.” Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, grinning at your behavior. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve. My boyfriend's gonna interrogate me for this.” You sigh, trying to gather back every bit of your strength and dignity. “Why are you still here?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, acting offended. “You don’t actually think that I’m the type of guy who leaves pretty girls sleeping defenselessly in public, do you?”

The word ‘pretty’ comes so effortlessly from his mouth that you’re sure he doesn’t mean it to mean something more. “There’s literally no one else around here but the staff besides us.”

“Which should be the more reason why I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You scoff, shaking your head in amusement. “Yes, yes, how chivalrous of you. Thank you, oh my mighty prince. How can I return the favor?”

“By coming here again tomorrow?”

The way his eyes shine with excitement at the thought of seeing you again makes your heart flutter. “I don’t think you need to ask,” you grin.

***

Jaehyun knows you. He knows you too well. But it’s not the things that can be seen, it’s the things that you can only know by spending time together. Jaehyun knows the type of music you listen to, knows that whenever it gets too cold, you’ll start craving a cup of hot chocolate. 

It’s strange, the fact that Jaehyun, a stranger you just befriended, pays attention with all his heart, even at the words that accidentally slipped off your tongue as if you’re the only person who matters in the world, while Donghyuck, your boyfriend, barely bats an eyelash when you share an important aspect of your life. It feels strange at first, but now, it sickens you.

“What’s this?” You ask, examining a CD case he just hands over. “Are you giving me a mix-tape?” It doesn’t have a cover, just a note painted with the words: When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other. You have your eyebrow raised. “A quote by Rob Sheffield?”

“It’s a hint for my story. As promised.” He takes a seat in front of you. “Have you worked on it?”

“When you’re only giving me this quote as a hint and nothing more, it’s kinda hard to come up with something tragic for the ending.”

“I thought you had a very creative imagination.”

You throw a playful glare and he titters a little bit in response. “Is there any other reason why you’re giving me this?”

“Just something to keep you company.” He smiles. He always smiles, but more with his eyes than his lips. Then he slides down another thing—a book this time—wrapped with a red ribbon. “As you read this.”

It’s an old book written by your favorite author, one that you haven’t been able to read because it’s so rare to find. “How do you—” You’re lost for words. You have never told him about this. You’ve mentioned your favorite books but none from this author as it is something personal that you prefer to keep to yourself, not wanting others to judge you for your distinctive taste.

“It’s written by my favorite author,” he elaborates, “I just thought you’d like it too since we have similar taste.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, you can sense that. But if he’s not ready to provide the words, you won’t take them away by force.

“Thank you.” You hug the book to your chest. Somehow, the air feels like spring, like cherry blossoms blooming for the first time after being frozen for so long. “I’ll cherish this.”

“It’s just a book, don’t be dramatic,” he chuckles but happiness is written all over his face, mirroring yours. Jaehyun’s eyes soften and he appears so fragile, like a porcelain doll. So beautiful and vulnerable.

The songs he has compiled for you seem like they’re taken straight out of your playlist. Even for the songs you’ve never listened to before, they click right in. You’re so caught by the moment, drowned deep in the lyrics and the music that resonates from your speakers, that you don’t hear the sounds of your boyfriend stepping into the room.

“I thought I heard noises. What are you listening to?” Donghyuck asks, leaning over your shoulder to peek at the empty CD case you’ve been holding on your lap.

“A friend gave me,” you answer. You notice the way his eyes dart to the handwritten note and it makes you nervous as if you’re doing something wrong behind his back, something forbidden.

“What a thoughtful friend,” he comments nonchalantly, albeit a little bit cold. You mask your anxiety with a chuckle. “Maybe you can tell your friend that there’s this thing called Spotify nowadays. Literally no one listens to CDs anymore.”

Your tongue lays heavy in your mouth, and maybe it’s better to leave things the way it is but you can’t stop yourself from bitterly saying, “I happen to like listening to CDs. It makes me feel nostalgic.”

“You and your nostalgia.” Donghyuck snorts, completely missed the annoyed tone in your voice. He places a peck on the top of your head. “Well, I’m hungry. What do you want to have for dinner? I’ll cook."

“There’s a new Chinese restaurant opening just a block away,” Jaehyun said on a Sunday evening when you two were about to part ways. “They got amazing reviews. Do you have some time to spare? I know how much you love Chinese food.”

“I never told you I loved Chinese food.”

“Everybody loves Chinese food, it’s not that hard to guess.”

“Fine. But if you can guess what I’m about to order, I’ll start filing a restraining order against you, assuming you’re a stalker.”

“Well, I gotta be careful not to get caught then.”

“Baby?” Donghyuck snaps you out of your reverie. “I’m asking what you wanna have for dinner.”

“Umm…” You push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, somewhat jittery. “Chinese food?”

He frowns upon your words. “I didn’t know you liked Chinese food.”

“I-it’s just something I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Well, I’m going to cook you something better.” He grins, boyish and ignorant. “How about your favorite Spaghetti Aglio e Olio by Chef Lee Donghyuck?”

You smile, weak but hopefully not empty. “That would be nice.”

***

“You’re okay?” Jaehyun asks the second you take a seat in front of him. He seems so concerned that it surprises you. You haven’t realized you look that troubled.

“I’m fine,” you assure him with a smile. “Just… You know, boyfriend stuff.”

You can tell how Jaehyun is holding back his words from how tightly he keeps his lips pressed together. He’s always considerate like that, always detecting every little thing that you try to hide but never pressures you to speak, especially when it comes to your relationship. Jaehyun respects you, respects the fact that you are already involved with someone that he never tries to get you to look in his direction. Though his eyes often betray him, Jaehyun tries his best to maintain his distance. He never flirts, never praises you with romantic words, never steps out of line.

And you’re thankful for that because deep down you know, once he does, it will be hard to untangle yourself from his grasp.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then...” Jaehyun closes his book, leaning closer. His dimples are so prominent when he grins, eyes turning into a beautiful pair of crescents. “How about we go try out some dumplings?”

It’s so sudden and random but once the idea sinks in, there’s only one thing you want to say. “Take me away, Jaehyun.”

It’s not about the food. It’s not about ignoring your problems, or the loneliness that’s drowning you a little bit more every day. It’s about enjoying the little things with someone who understands you, someone who doesn’t need to hold your hand to keep you warm. 

Someone who can finally let you breathe.

***

“I can’t believe it’s closed early,” you whine after you read the sign that’s strapped to the library’s front door. “And I was so excited to read the next chapter too.”

“What’s the book?” Jaehyun asks, adjusting the strap of his bag that hangs low on his shoulder.

“No Longer Human.”

“By Osamu Dazai?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got a copy of that.”

“What, really?” The spark of glee that glimmer in your eyes catches him by surprise but he hides it behind a soft smile. “Can I borrow it? It’s such an old book, I can’t even find the e-book version of it.”

“Sure. Would you like to come over to my place?” The line makes your breath hitched in your throat and Jaehyun recognizes the faint blush that spreads on your cheeks. Mirroring your reaction, he hastily clears his throat, rubbing his nape as his face turns scarlet. “Or, uhh, I can just hand it over to you tomorrow.”

“No, it’s—” As you tuck your hair behind your ear, you notice your fingers are shaking. “I have—I’ve got time to spare. You have coffee at your place, right?”

His shoulders begin to relax and with a soft gaze, he reciprocates with an even tender smile. “If you’re alright with instant coffees.”

“Then lead the way.”

Jaehyun has this mature persona around him, like a caring big brother that calms you down but the second you arrive in his hallway, he fumbles with his words, his key slipping out of his fingers during his first try, and his nervousness starts to rub off on you.

It makes you wonder whether he’s feeling like he’s crossing the line, just as much as you are with Donghyuck’s name sitting on the front of your mind.

“Come in,” he invites, opening the door but keeping his eyes anywhere else but yours. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

His apartment smells just like him and it makes it hard for you to focus on anything else. But the second you’re able to sort that thought away, you realize something. He keeps his place minimalist and neat, just like the way he dresses and writes. Everything is organized properly with two paintings decorating his walls—ones that remind you of your grandmother’s house. “You really do have an old soul,” you playfully comment and he scrunches his nose at you in return.

It feels more familiar to step into Jaehyun’s apartment than your own because he has everything that you wanted and more. All the books sitting on his shelf, his collection of CDs, even the potpourri he has on his coffee table has the same scent with the one you’re planning to buy. 

“I know you said we have similar taste, but this…” You scan his bookshelf in awe, noticing how it almost covers his entire wall from how huge it is. He owns hundreds of books and everything is arranged alphabetically. “This is just taking it to another level. Are you sure you’re not my stalker?”

He simpers. “If I was, I wouldn’t have invited you here. Too much evidence.”

“Or maybe you’re just planning to keep me here with you forever.” When he doesn’t reply, you realize how wrong that line just sounded. “I’m sorry, was that a weird thing to say?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Jaehyun waves you off, walking to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

The tension gradually starts to ease by the time you have a book in your lap, your eyes running from one passage to another. Sitting next to you, Jaehyun has his pen glued to his notepad again, his brown hair nearly looks golden as the sunset illuminates his face with such a warm, beautiful glow.

He really does look like a painting, you admire as you steal glances at him from behind your book. The perfect shape of his nose, his smooth skin, the way he’s so focused on his story, drowned inside his imagination… Maybe you’re being carried away, taken by his beauty, that your mouth begins to produce the words without thinking.

“Why do you look so sad?” 

Jaehyun’s pen nearly slips from his fingertips. “What?”

“Sometimes you just look... so lonely and hurt,” you clarify although you’re growing more conscious of the way you’re crossing the line. “It feels like you’re forcing yourself to smile when you look at me...”

Jaehyun loses the ability to speak, even just blinking his eyes already seems like a stretch. But he sees something, the genuine curiosity and concern written in your eyes, that makes him avert his gaze away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he remarks, forcing himself to chuckle and you know that’s he’s showing you that smile again, even when you can barely make out his features.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe you’re just tired of him keeping secrets to himself when you’re sure they concern you. Maybe you’re just sick of seeing him like he’s on the verge of breaking apart without knowing the cause. Or perhaps it’s just your selfish way of saying, “I want you to smile, truly smile, because of me and no one else.”

But you find yourself reaching out a hand, your fingertips meeting the warm skin of his cheek, wanting him to turn his face around so you can see his expression. Jaehyun jolts, your name tumbles down his lips abruptly, his hand clamping against your wrist. “What are you doing?” His eyes are shaking as they bore deep into yours but yours are steady. Your eyes, your voice, your fingertips. They’ve never been this steady.

This is the first time you’ve been this close to him, to know how long his eyelashes really are, the way they flutter against his cheeks, the curve of his mouth, and the beauty mark on his pale skin. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever witnessed in person.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suddenly touch you like that.” You try to retract your hand, but he keeps his fingers around your wrist, hand hanging mid-air as he swallows his breath. Seeing him nervous makes you nervous. “Jaehyun, I won’t force you to say anything you don’t want to say, but…” You haven’t realized that you’ve been speaking in whispers, but Jaehyun has and his eyes soften just as much as yours do. “Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

Whether it’s from your words or the tenderness in your voice, you’re not sure, but Jaehyun releases your hand only so he can cup your cheek. He murmurs your name, so soft as if he’s telling a secret that he’s been dying to say. He leans forward, his breath is now fanning your cheek, and he’s so close, so close, and your eyes begin to shut when his lips faintly graze against yours—

The ringing sound of your phone blares through the room. 

Your entire movement stops but your heart runs a thousand miles per hour. It takes a good few seconds to come back to reality, and when you do, you’re not graceful at it. “Umm—” You glance away, breaking free from his touch. Your fingers are trembling hard when they retrieve your phone from the table. It has stopped ringing and a notification appears on your screen. The sight of your boyfriend’s name makes you feel like the floor is crumbling underneath you. “Sorry, it’s Donghyuck—I have to—It’s getting late, he must be looking for me.” Too embarrassed to see his face, you quickly gather your belongings into your arms, not even spending a few seconds to wear your coat back. “Thank you for inviting me. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” And you don’t wait for an answer, only forcing yourself to laugh which comes out as strained and pitchy, before you head toward the front door.

“Wait.” Jaehyun has his right hand pressing against the back of the door, shutting it close before you have the chance to let yourself out. You’re trapped between the door and his chest, making it harder for you to breathe. “Can you look at me?” He firmly orders but promptly adds a soft, “Please,” when you’re not brave enough to respond to him. 

You turn around, hugging your purse and your coat to your chest, facing him but not meeting his eyes. You can feel him analyzing your expression, feel how heavy his gaze is on your face. He bends down slightly, hand reaching out to frame your face like before but you flinch, eyes shutting tightly before he can make any contact.

You can’t see the look on his face as you are too frightened to do so, but you can tell how much you hurt him by the sound of his voice. “You forgot your book,” he states, handing a copy of Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human.

“O-oh, right.” You sound so nervous, so afraid, and you don’t know why. “It’s okay. I won’t be able to read at home anyway—”

“I want you to have it.” It’s the first time he loses the warmth in his voice when he speaks and if you’re not too clouded by your thoughts, if you weren’t so selfish, you would’ve tried your best to fix the situation. But not right now. Right now, you just want to disappear. You want to run back home, run into Donghyuck’s arms like how you’re supposed to be. 

Because this is wrong. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not when you have another man waiting for your return.

You take the book from his hand, noticing how your fingers brush his and how they stay that way for a little too long, but Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes and you’re still not sure why you’re on the verge of crying.

“Don’t be. It was my fault.” He notices your emotions, he always does, and it breaks you apart to know how much you’re breaking him right now. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nothing happened,” you convince him, shaking your head and will your tears to go away before they fall down your cheeks. “We didn’t do anything.”

Jaehyun’s fingers curls, nails sinking into his palms as he tries his best to mask what he’s feeling. “You’re right,” he quietly repeats, “Nothing happened.”

***

“Where have you been?”

Your keys slip through your fingers at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice and you’re petrified, millions of thoughts running through your head as you try to come up with an excuse.

But why? Why do you have to come up with an excuse? “Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.” Isn’t that what you said?

“Babe?”

You jump back a couple of steps when Donghyuck walks into your personal space with a frown breaking on his temple. He furrows his eyebrows deeper at your reaction. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

“Yeah, umm—” You adjust the collar of your turtleneck shirt, suddenly feeling like you’re being choked. “It’s fine—I’m fine. I just had a long day at work.”

“Why didn’t you text me? I could’ve swung by to pick you up.”

You force yourself to smile at his offer. “Thank you. It’s okay, really. Were you waiting for me?”

“Well yeah, I wanted to eat dinner together. It’s been a while since we did that and I wanted to make it up to you.” He cutely pouts and you’re reminded of the reason why you’re so trapped under his spell. “Text me next time when you’re about to come home late so I don’t have to wait for you.”

There it is. It strikes again. The feeling of loneliness. Curling your fingers at the hem of your shirt, you weakly reply with, “I’m sorry.”

Because out of the millions of thoughts that run through your head, that’s the only thing you have the bravery to say out loud.

***

“Hyuck?” You call out, carding your fingers through his soft locks. Donghyuck has his head on your lap with his legs sprawled out, taking most of the couch. His eyes are glued to the screen of his Nintendo Switch, thumb moving frantically to land a new high score. “I think we need to talk.”

Donghyuck doesn't respond right away. After a few relentless movements of his thumbs, he shouts, “Fuck, not again! Goddamn, I gotta restart all over again.” You can see him renewing the game, picking a different character. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I just…” You’re nervous, feeling more so than the pain that swells in your chest from not being taken seriously. “It feels like we haven’t been spending time with each other. Properly, I mean.”

“We’re spending time together now, aren’t we?” He hisses when his character takes another damage from his opponent. “What, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

I want us to talk. I want us to laugh. I want us to listen to each other like we used to. “I’m not in the mood for movies right now.”

After taking another shot, Donghyuck groans. “Fuck this stupid game,” he grumbles, throwing his device to the coffee table. “You know what’s annoying? The fact that I could land a perfect high score when I was drunk as fuck but now, I can’t even get into top three!”

Your patience is growing thin, but even then, you can’t find the strength to confront him properly. “Hyuck…”

“Right, sorry.” He heaves a sigh, rubbing his head as he sits straight up, facing you properly. “What is it? Is there something wrong?”

You meet his gaze and you realize how rarely you stand in this position, with him looking directly at your face with concern in his eyes. Now that he’s paying you full attention, your vocabulary turns into a blank slate. Your lips are parted but your voice is nowhere to be found, as it is hidden by the fear of speaking beyond control once you let your emotions run loose. 

“I…” You begin, clearing your throat to sound less anxious. “Are you happy with me?”

He knits his eyebrows together. “Of course, I’m happy. What are you talking about? Have I done something to upset you?”

“No, it’s…” Your hands lay rigid on your lap, fingers tightening around each other. You weakly smile. “Nothing. I guess I just had some weird thoughts popping in my head.”

“Look, I promise you I’ll do the laundry this weekend,” he confidently convinces you, as if that was the problem you’re currently facing. He pokes you on the nose, grinning boyishly. “Stop acting so weird, you’re creeping me out. What else are you thinking about? If it’s sex you want, you just gotta ask. You know I’m down with it anytime you want.”

“Yeah, of course…” You can force yourself to laugh but every sound you make feels like a knife piercing against your heart. “Sorry, I was just being stupid. You can ignore me.”

“I won’t ignore you, how can I do that? Not when you’re this cute.” He giggles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. But his affection does not make the butterflies in your stomach come alive. It makes hot tears threatening to appear in your eyes. “I like your sweater,” Donghyuck coos, “Is it new?”

No, this is my third time wearing it in front of you. “Yes. I’m glad you noticed.”

“I always notice everything about you.” He ruffles your hair as he stands up, stretching out his arms above his head. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about? ‘Cause I’m dead tired.”

“No. Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime, babe.” He bends his head down to kiss you fully on the mouth, tongue running along your lower lip just to tease like usual. When he pulls away, he has his juvenile grin intact. “Well, I’m going to bed. If I wake up late tomorrow, you can re-heat the food. I’ve stored everything in the fridge.”

Donghyuck disappears behind the door before you can finish saying good night.

***

The sun’s about to set… He must have been there already.

It has been two days since you last saw Jaehyun. You know you’re not being fair avoiding him like this, but you don’t know what else to do. You’re not brave enough to face him after that. Have you been giving him signs? Was it your fault, was it the expression you made, was it the words you spoke, that made him lean towards you, asking for a kiss that you were more than eager to give?

“Hey, babe,” Lee Donghyuck chirps against your ear, arms finding their way to circle your waist, pulling you to his lap. “What are you doing?”

You’re successful at hiding your surprise but knowing it’s Donghyuck, anything will probably pass by without him realizing. Even when you have spent the last fifteen minutes reading the same paragraph in your book over and over again as your thoughts drift somewhere else. 

You have a boyfriend and it’s not Jaehyun. Donghyuck is everything to you now, isn’t he? Yet, if you hadn’t been interrupted by that phone call, you were sure you would’ve yielded to Jaehyun’s touch.

“Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.”

You’re disgusted with yourself.

You throw a glance to the side, your nose nearly brushing his as Donghyuck settles his chin on your shoulder. Unlike Jaehyun who has a fresh, masculine scent, Donghyuck smells like summer and lilacs under the sun. It’s comforting and sweet, yet even after two years, it stills feels somewhat unfamiliar to you.

“Reading a book.” You shiver when he pushes your hair away, placing a lazy wet kiss on your nape, lips parted and tongue pressing against the skin. “Hyuck…”

“It’s okay, keep reading.” Whenever his mouth makes contact with your skin, he adds a hum or a moan to make sure you know that despite his words, he’s not giving you the chance to continue. “You want us to spend more time together, don’t you?”

You deeply exhale, staring lifelessly at the ceiling, sensitive skin being caressed but none of his touches pumps desire through your veins. Since when did I stop wanting him this way? You wonder, feeling guilty when Jaehyun’s face appears in the corner of your mind once more.

“Baby,” Donghyuck murmurs seductively against the skin, thin fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your navel. “Hasn’t it been a while since we last did it?”

“It’s only been a week.”

“And that’s a week too long. I want you.” He strokes your cheek, guiding you to meet his eyes. “Can I touch you?”

It’s a rhetorical question since you both know you can’t say no when he demands something from you. “Of course.”

Donghyuck’s lips still taste the same, feel the same as they suck bruises on your delicate skin but the sparks are no longer there. He used to make you squirm with excitement, body begging under temptation. Sex used to be an adventure, a way for him to make you lose your mind, to have you gasping his name between moans, nails clawing against his back, thighs trembling under his fingertips.

Right now, sex is just… another glue to keep your relationship in place.

Clothes are discarded on the floor, and Donghyuck is sitting with you on his lap, his spine pressed against the couch, nails digging into your hips as he brings you down to take him inch-by-inch. He hisses when he feels you engulfing him with your warmth, head thrown back with lips parted in a blissful moan.

“No matter how much we’ve done it,” he chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “I can never get enough of the way you’re taking me so well, baby.” Donghyuck is a very passionate lover and his lips love to praise, both by words and kisses. The way he calls your name, the way he whispers, “You feel so good around me,” often makes you wonder whether there would be any other man who will desire you this much. But is it love? Does he love you? 

Do you love him? 

You’re not sure. You don’t know yet. But you know he plays a huge part in your life. Donghyuck once added a spectrum of colors into your previously dull, monochromatic life. You care about him, think about him more than you should, even putting his needs and priorities above yours.

If that’s not love, then what is it?

“Donghyuck…” You flinch when he rocks his hips up, a bit too rough and forceful as he’s getting impatient with the pace you’re going. “I—I think I love you.”

It surprises you that these words can leave your lips but you don’t regret it. It’s the right thing to do, saying these words to him. It’s only natural after the amount of time you’ve spent with him. It’s a way to bridge the gap between you and him, to reignite the flame, to bring laughter back into your life. 

To fix the mistake you just made two days ago.

But maybe his thoughts are too clouded with lust, maybe your words are too quiet for him to hear, or maybe you haven’t said the words at all and everything is just playing inside your imagination but no matter what the reason is, Donghyuck doesn’t answer. The words that escape his lips are obscene, a sign that he’s about to finish and you let him pull you closer to his chest, let him sink his face in the crook of your neck, let him groan and release everything inside because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Did you get to come?” He asks, breathless and flushed when he’s finished. His bangs are glued to his temple, sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat and when he strokes your cheekbone with his fingers, they tremble from the pleasure that washed through his body.

“Yes.” You didn’t. You haven’t in a while. It’s not because you didn’t enjoy it. Donghyuck still moved in the way you wanted him to—in the way that used to untie the knots in your stomach, almost making you cry from how good it was. But you’ve begun to realize that there was a part of you missing and Donghyuck isn’t the right piece to complete the puzzle. 

Jaehyun.

The dread of having another man’s name running through your head is so much, it almost makes you vomit your insides. 

“Hyuck.”

“Yes, baby?”

“I said I love you.”

There’s no going around it this time. You’ve said the words, you’ve pronounced them loud and clear but when Donghyuck still doesn’t say anything, you wish the earth could swallow you whole. “Can you… say something, please…?”

“Baby,” he sighs, fingers framing your face so gently, it hurts you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t love you but—”

You’re stunned, shocked to your core at the incoming rejection but… that’s it.

You don’t feel anything. How can you not feel anything? You don’t feel hurt, you’re not disappointed, you’re just…

Relieved.

“Baby, are you listening?” Donghyuck calls again, grabbing you by your chin so he can peer into your eyes. “I like you. I really do like you. I like you so much but love is such a big word and for me to be committed that way is just… I don’t know, I haven’t figured out my feelings yet. I don’t even understand what love is. I just—I need more time.”

You’re lost for words. How can you tell him? How can you say that you’re so relieved he doesn’t love you back? How can you tell him that his action does not break you apart, but only makes you realize that you’ve just been forcing yourself to stay with him because it feels like it’s the right thing to do?

What if you’re just staying with him because you’re so afraid of being alone, not knowing that loneliness is the only thing he can offer you in return?

“I understand,” you quietly reply, climbing off his lap. Your knees wobble slightly under your weight as your mind travels somewhere else. You gather your clothes into your arms, placing them back on your body.

Donghyuck frowns at your reaction, calling your name as he stands up and pulls his jeans back to place. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you by saying it when I still don’t truly mean it the way you do.”

You can’t look at him, can’t meet his eyes when you can’t even understand how you feel. “I get it, Hyuck, it’s fine.”

But maybe Donghyuck is taking it the wrong way because his voice is laced with both exhaustion and desperation to make this feel any less terrible. “Babe, can we just talk—”

“I said, I’m fine!” You turn around to face him, head dizzy and heart palpitating. It scares you. It scares you that after all this time thinking Donghyuck was the one for you—all the things you’ve done, all the memories you’ve shared—you still don’t understand your feelings for him. You loved him once, you’re sure you loved him once. But is it love if the feeling isn’t eternal? Can you call it love when it fleets by so fast, disappearing without a trace as if it’s never existed in the first place?

To think that these two years you have spent with him would amount to nothing...

You take a deep breath, wishing your body and voice to stop shaking. When you look him in the eyes, there’s nothing but certainty written in your eyes. “You’re right, we need to talk.”

Donghyuck walks to your spot, hand resting against your waist, another one framing your cheek. “Please don’t be mad,” he whispers, and for the first time in the last few months, he does look sorry. “I’m happy to hear you say those words, I really do, but—”

“I want to break up.”

He freezes, jaw dropping low. “What?” 

“I want to break up with you, Donghyuck.”

“What—why—” His eyebrows are sewn together, and you take his hand away from your face, breaking free from his hold. “You’re breaking up with me because I can’t say I love you too?”

“No.” You exhale. “I’m breaking up with you because I feel fine with you not saying it back.”

He stands in silence, then his forced chuckles fill the air. “Babe, what are you talking about—”

“Are you happy with me?” The tremble in your voice has receded. “Be honest. Are you truly happy with me? Or are you just going along with everything because you’re so comfortable—so used to the situation of being with me—that you start to think as long as I’m not hurt, it’s fine. As long as I’m not alone, I can keep going with this relationship, even when I’m with someone who doesn’t truly understand me. Or accept the real me.”

Donghyuck releases the breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. His voice is a pitch lower when he speaks, bitter and hurt. “Is that how you feel? All this time when we’re together?”

“No.” Your heart still breaks at the sight of his face. “I think I really did love you once, Hyuck. And if you had rejected me a few months earlier, I would’ve probably broken down crying. But now…” You grow stiff, noticing the infuriated look that’s plastered on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck stays mute and the silence only adds more tension to the atmosphere. His teeth are grinding against each other when he replies. “Why did you even say you loved me if you weren’t fucking sure about how you felt?”

You twist your finger in the hemline of your shirt, in dire need of something to keep your emotions collected. “I thought it would make us grow closer again. To fix what’s lost between us,” you weakly admit, heart throbbing and breaking at the sight of him. “But then I realized that we shouldn’t say we love someone just because we have to. We should say it because we want to. Because we truly feel that way. But I didn’t feel anything when you didn’t say it back. I only felt… relieved.” 

The enraged look on his face forces you to drag your eyes to your feet and you stay still, breathing as quietly as possible. It’s only when Donghyuck starts to reach for his jacket, muttering, “I’m not having any of these bullshits,” as he walks passes you that you dare to look in his direction.

“How easy for you to put this all on me,” he declares with his fingers lingering on the doorknob, so spitefully it shocks you. “You probably think I’m dumb and insensitive, but I know. I’ve noticed the way you changed ever since you met him.”

“What?” His words feel like a slap to the face. “I don’t—”

“You know,” he cynically laughs into the air, throwing his head back. “Just because you found someone who makes you happy ‘cause he can quote your favorite lines, read your favorite books or listen to the same shit you like, doesn’t mean you can throw me away like I’m some fucking garbage.”

You’re petrified by his words. Somewhere in your head, you keep saying that the reason why you’re breaking up with him is that you’re so different from each other—that there would be little to no chance for the two of you to understand one another even if you’re given all the time in the world. But you can’t deny that there’s a part of you that completely rejects Donghyuck simply because you’ve stopped wanting him as much as you want Jaehyun. 

It sickens you.

“I’m…” It’s suffocating. The tension in the air, his eyes, the way your heartbeat is ramming against your ribcages. “I’m sorry...”

Your apology only aggravates him more and with gritted teeth, Donghyuck slams the door behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of your room.

Your apartment has never felt this big before.

***

It’s funny how you just ended your two years relationship with your boyfriend but Donghyuck isn’t the one you’ve been avoiding for months. It’s Jaehyun.

Something is gnawing at you from the inside, the feeling of guilt as if you just sinned. You didn’t cheat on your boyfriend. Physically, you didn’t. You’re attracted to Jaehyun, everybody would be to someone who owns such a handsome face and delicate features. But it’s more than just physical attraction because when you lay at night in your bed, alone and empty, it’s not his face that comes to mind. It’s the little thing he does, the way he listens to your words so attentively, the way he smiles—happy and sad at the same time, the way he greets you, the way he nibbles at his lower lip as he tries to think of a word to write on his note. 

And the dreams.

The dreams never stop, they only grow stronger. You can remember each and every one of them crystal clear when you wake up. They’re usually different every night but for the last few days, the atmosphere and the surroundings were the same. 

In the dream, you were lying down in a hospital bed, wearing nothing but your white gown, too weak to even lift a finger. Jaehyun was sitting on a wooden chair with a book in his hand—the one that he presented you as a gift in real life—while his other hand was holding yours, thumb tenderly gliding against your knuckles. He seemed much thinner, cheekbones growing prominent with dark eye-bags tainting his pale skin. But his smile was the same, just as warm, just as tender.

He was reading you a story, one that you had memorized by heart from how many times you’ve read it. But it’s different when he read the words out loud, voice melodious and soothing, like a mother’s lullaby. When it was over, he beamed at you, asking, “What’s your favorite part of the story?” And you opened your mouth but no words could come out. You were losing your voice, could only make croaking sounds and even that already put a strain on your body. You could see how much it broke him to hear you struggle but he waited patiently, hand squeezing yours tighter. 

“Me too,” he responded after he heard your answer, kissing your knuckles. “I like that one too.”

In another dream, you saw him sitting at the edge of your bed, his mouth still formed that beautiful, delicate smile, but his eyes were as heavy as the storm. You asked him, why, what’s wrong, trying your best to let your voice break free from your mouth. He brushed his fingers against your cheek, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I won’t let anything separates us,” he said and it felt more like a promise than how it sounded. “Not time, not death, nothing. I will always be with you.” He let his lips linger on your temple as he whispered the next words. “So it’s okay if you want to sleep. I won’t be going anywhere.”

Then… I’ll see you again when I wake up.

“Yes.” He leaned closer, letting his lips meet your chapped ones in a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

But by the time you opened your eyes, heart thrumming loudly inside your chest, with the sound of the alarm in your phone muffled by your pillow, you knew that in the dream, once you go to sleep, you’d never be able to wake up.

I have to see him.

***

Three months have passed since you last saw him. It’s funny that despite how close you are to each other, know each other like the back of your hand, you just only realize now that you haven’t given him a way to contact you. No home address. No phone numbers. No social media. You’re not even sure what his last name was. You never needed to know his contact details before. Every day, an hour before the sun is replaced by the moon, you will meet each other here in this library—that was the unspoken promise between you and neither of you ever broke it. Not until now. The second you stop coming to the library, you disappear from his life as well, as easy as snapping your fingers.

The quickest way to see him is by visiting the library. Today you will see him. You just have to.

It’s raining hard, hard enough to drench you to your socks, painting shivers to each of your fingertips. It’s a Sunday evening, the sun is an hour away from setting behind the horizon. But with how heavy the rain is going, the day will turn into the night before the sun can shine its light through the clouds again.

Hesitation arises within you as you take shelter on the porch, your shivering fingers circling the doorknob to the library. He might not even be here in this kind of weather, you miserably think to yourself. It wasn’t raining when you took your leave half an hour earlier but you should’ve noticed how thick and dark the clouds were. Your thoughts were too jumbled that you didn’t even think about carrying an umbrella with you.

But you’re already here and if he still keeps his promise…

You take a step inside.

Your clothes are drenched but thankfully they’re not dripping water to the carpeted floor. It’s warmer inside, so warm that you feel like you’re home, sitting close to a fireplace, basking in the scent of sandalwood. Your eyes naturally scan the room, taking a longer glance at the table where you usually sit in front of him, a book in your hands, a smile strapped to your face. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s not here. Is it because of the rain? Or… Maybe he has stopped coming here to see me. 

You can only realize how important someone is to you when they’re gone and it hurts so much that you have to nip at your lower lip, fingers curling around the end of your sweater. 

I want to see him again…

“You’re here…”

You turn your head to the source of his voice, heart about to burst when you see Jaehyun stopping on his tracks, one hand holding the entrance door open, another one carrying a folded umbrella that drips water to the floor. He’s so stunned at the sight of you, he doesn’t even appear to be breathing. In a whisper, your name breaks free from his lips.

And you run towards him with all your might.

He nearly stumbles from how hard you’re crushing your body against his, his umbrella falling from his grip but he doesn’t push you away. Jaehyun is warm, warmer than everything you’ve ever held and you wonder whether you’re just freezing from the cold or he’s always been this comforting. It feels so natural to stay in his embrace, to be wrapped with his strong arms, to have him whisper your name against the shell of your ear. 

I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.

Jaehyun...

The first tear that slips down your cheek is an accident, as you don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t even know why you’re crying but you can’t stop. You sob against his chest, fingers curling against the fabric of his knitted sweater, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from crying harder but failing every time. 

Jaehyun never breaks away from your embrace. He does not care if people stare, does not listen to the murmurs being exchanged at the back of the room. He pulls you closer, one hand holding you around the waist and the other one stroking your damp hair. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he says, overwhelming you with his scent, his warmth, his voice, his everything and you still want more. His lips nearly brush against the tip of your ear when he whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

Your hands are now fisting the back of his sweater, pressing your cheek to his chest as you muffle your cry, focusing more on the sound of his heartbeat. It feels like a dream, one that you never want to wake up.

It’s only when you have the strength to pull away from him that he releases you. He swipes his thumb under your eye, erasing the stains of your tears. He looks at you in a way that is so different than the way Donghyuck used to. His gaze is softer, a mix between the feeling of relief for having you in his arms and a yearning to have more as if you’re still far away from his reach.

I want him to stare at me like this forever.

“You’re freezing,” he says, noticing the coldness of your cheek against his palm. “Would you like to come over to my place? I can make you something warm.”

You let out a tiny laugh. “That would be nice.”

***

Jaehyun’s sweater is too big that the hem falls to the middle of your thighs. Your clothes are in the dryer, making rumbling noise that’s loud enough to fill the awkward silence between you. Drying your hair with a towel he gave you, you take a seat next to him, careful enough not to invade his personal space too much.

“How are you feeling?” Jaehyun asks, handing you a cup of hot chocolate.

“Warmer now, thanks.” You wrap your fingers around the mug, seeing a cloud of steam erupting from your drink. 

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other. I’m glad you look fine.” 

“I am. I feel fine. More so than I’ve ever been.” And it’s not a lie. Being here with him, despite everything that happened, makes you feel at ease. He makes you feel as if you had been embarking on a trip for so long and now you’re finally home. “Were you, umm…” Were you planning to wait for me at the library? Have you been waiting for me all this time? Or was it just a mere coincidence that we bumped into each other again?

“Were I what?”

“Never mind.” You don’t have the bravery to do it. Flushed, you quickly take a sip of your drink.

“I was about to wait for you,” he suddenly confesses, nearly making you choke. “I was… worried about you. I kept wondering whether something bad happened.” His voice gradually turns into murmurs as he continues. “And I thought... After what happened... You hated me.”

The ticking sound of the clock echoes like thunder when silence hangs in the room. “I would never hate you, Jaehyun…” You’re unconsciously rubbing the edge of your mug with your thumb, eyes fixated on the glass instead of him. “There’s no way I could hate you.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see him turning his head to face you. “Well, you stopped visiting for three months without leaving a word. It was hard for me to stay positive,” he says, a bit teasingly, “And I had no idea how to contact you either. I didn’t know what else to do but wait in the library every day until I could see you again. So that’s what I did.”

Blood is rushing to your face. He did wait for me. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He chuckles and you just realized how much you missed hearing it. “You don’t need to. I’m glad we can meet again.”

“Me too.” You mirror his smile. “You know, you could’ve just looked me up online.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” He asks and your heart stops. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You have to tell him the truth, you owe him that much. “I couldn’t. The way Donghyuck looked at me when I broke up with him made me feel so guilty and I knew I would hate myself even more if I ran back to you right after.”

“Why?” Jaehyun questions in a whisper. “What did you feel guilty for?”

Your heartbeat roars so thunderously loud, you can hear it in your ears. “Because he said the reason why I broke up with him was that… I had feelings for you.”

Jaehyun stays in silence for a few seconds and it drives you insane. Eventually, he leans forward to lay his cup down on the coffee table. “So…” He hesitantly speaks. “Did you tell him he was wrong about that?”

You tighten your hold around your cup. “I…” Taking a deep breath, you confess. “I didn’t.”

And there are so many things to be said, but none of you dares to speak. The silence is deafening, its invisible arms strangling you little by little and you’re trapped, not knowing whether to ask him to respond or just run away before your heart explodes to pieces.

Jaehyun does that look again where he stares at you like you own his heart, giving you the permission to hold it or crush it however you like. “Your hair is still dripping water,” he says, reaching out to place his hands around the towel and gently dab your strands, squeezing out the excess water and he’s so close, you can truly see the color of his eyes. In the soft, yellowish light of his room, they’re a little bit darker, a stark contrast to his pale skin. You’re distracted with the way his eyes shimmer under the light, the way he breathes so softly, warm breath hitting your lips.

And you don’t know who initiate it, but for the next breath you take, you’re gasping for it against his mouth. Jaehyun’s lips move slow against yours, tentative and patient, waiting for you to react. But he doesn’t have to wait, not when you’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Not when both of you have been wishing for it to happen.

If your mind wasn’t too deluded with the thoughts of him, how he feels against your body, how he tastes on your tongue, how the low grunt and moan that escape from the back of his throat successfully send shivers down your spine, you would’ve probably thought about how different he was compared to Donghyuck. Jaehyun was so tender, cradling your figure so gently as if you were about to break into pieces if he moves too fast. His kisses aren’t as rushed and bruising as Donghyuck’s, but they’re deep and just as passionate, if not more. The effects that his lips have on your skin burn stronger than anything you’ve ever felt. And if you thought Donghyuck reminded you of the sun, Jaehyun was the blazing sun himself.

But you couldn’t think of Donghyuck. You can’t think of anything else but Jaehyun. Right now, he’s the only one that matters.

“Push me away anytime you want,” he says, eyes dark and hazy, as he circles a hand around your waist to press your body flat against his chest.

With one hand fisting his collar, you let your lips taste him once more. “I never want you to.”

Your soft gasp is muffled by the skin of his neck when Jaehyun lifts your body off the couch, and you tangle your legs around his waist for support as he carries you toward his bedroom. Despite the growing, overwhelming passion between you, he lies you down so gently on the bed, hovering above you as he paints your name at the skin below your ear. You let out a sigh, pulling him closer and closer until you can sink completely into his warmth. 

No words are being exchanged because they don’t need to. Jaehyun speaks with his eyes, expresses his feelings with his lips, and carves your body with nothing but affection and adoration with his gentle hands. It amazes you how different sex can feel when there are feelings involved. It’s a connection, not just between your body and his but your mind, your soul, and every bit of your heart.

You’re more sensitive to his touch that even the slightest slide of his finger can make you arch your back. Jaehyun swallows every gasp, every moan of his name that tumbles down your lips and you do just the same with his.

He only stops to give you the chance to catch your breath when he’s fully sheathed inside you. His fingers tremble as they caress your face. “Are you okay?” He asks, sounding breathless and hoarse. He looks even more beautiful like this, skin glistening with sweat, lips bruised and swollen by kisses, pale cheeks reddening at the feeling of you peering into his eyes.

You smile, gaze softening. “I’m fine.”

Jaehyun has never looked so content before, so relieved, so happy and it makes you feel something in your stomach—something that you haven’t felt for months—to know that you’re the reason behind his most genuine, beautiful smile. When he whispers, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me,” into your ear, you know that he’s not talking about the time you were absent from the library. His words have more weight to them as if he’s been waiting for you for years as if you once belonged to him before something separated the strings between you.

“I’m going to move, okay?” Jaehyun murmurs against your lips, and you let out a shaky breath, nodding a little.

He takes it slow, waiting for you to adjust to his rhythm as he keeps his eyes on your expression to make sure he’s not hurting you in any way. His eyes are half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a small moan, barely audible. He splays one hand on the inner part of your thigh, fingers pressing hard against the supple skin as he pins it down to the bed, spreading your legs wider so he can press himself deeper inside you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against your jawline. “So beautiful…”

You nibble at your lip, circling your arms around his shoulders, raking your nails down his back as he picks up the pace. He’s perfect, he’s so perfect at everything he does—the sway of his hips, the angle, the way he changes from giving shallow to deep thrusts in accordance to your expression, knowing exactly what you need. 

He kisses you every time you give him the chance and it makes everything a lot more intimate, makes you feel more vulnerable, makes you feel more exposed. “I’m in love with you,” he says, forehead pressing against your own. “I’ve always been… All this time…”

There’s a surge of joy washing through your entire body and it’s so intense, you find yourself hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your vision blurred with tears. How can you feel so complete when this is your first time with him?

“Jae—” You gasp, your thighs trembling as you wrap your legs around his hips, arms hugging his shoulders tighter. “Jaehyun, I’m—I’m close—”

At your words, Jaehyun untangles your arms from his body and sits on his heels. He takes a hold of your waist and slams his hips harder to yours, driving you to the edge until you’re left sobbing against the sheets. He pulls away on the last second to finish himself off, tainting your stomach as a low grunt breaks free from the back of his throat. His bangs are falling over his eyes, a bead of sweat rolling down from his chest to his lean stomach and he still looks like a painting, one that you can’t seem to stop admiring.

“Wait, don’t move,” he says as if you had the strength to do so. “I’ll clean you up.”

When he comes back from the bathroom, fully clothed in a white tee and black sweat pants, he takes care of you so attentively, dabbing warm towel along your skin, swatting the bangs out of your eyes. A gentle smile never leaves his face but he blushes whenever your eyes make eye contact, though not as apparent as the shakes on his fingertips. 

“You’re so good at this,” you tease him, propping your elbows on the bed. “Must have a lot of experience with women, I’m sure.”

“I’ve only ever been with you,” he answers and it doesn’t sound like a lie.

“What?”

His movement stops, acknowledging the appalled look on your face. “There’s… something you need to know.” He slips under the comforter, lying down on his side, and makes sure it covers your body to your shoulders to keep you warm. “That day, when we first met… It wasn’t our first time meeting each other.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows are adjoined in the middle. “When did we first meet then?”

Jaehyun falls quiet, eyes searching yours. “In the same library,” he says, “Seventy-four years ago.”

***

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips as you scan your surroundings. Jaehyun has taken you somewhere you haven’t been before, a rural area in the foothills of Jiri Mountain. After spending more than three hours drive from Seoul, seeing nothing but never-ending roads and traffic signs, it feels refreshing to see a charming little village, blanketed in a snow of white and soft pink, with the sound of water streams soothing your ears and cold wind of April caressing your cheeks.

“Hwagae,” he claims, his hand never leaving yours as he walks next to you, taking shorter strides to match your step. “People usually think that Jinhae is the best place to see cherry blossoms, but for me, it’s here.” He glances at the way your fingers are intertwined with his, smiling timidly to himself. “But maybe due to personal reasons.”

“Well, you’re not lying…” You murmur in awe, eyes widening at the sight of cherry blossoms trees that line the road, following both sides of a turquoise-blue stream, pebbles whisked about in the under wash like pieces of glitter. “It’s beautiful.”

You can hardly pay attention to anything else so when Jaehyun presses a kiss against your hairline, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “It is, isn’t it?” He says, pushing some loose strands behind your ear. “Beautiful.”

With his eyes locked with yours, it seems like he’s praising something else and you look away, cheeks heating up at his words. “How long does this road goes?”

“Around four kilometers.” Jaehyun follows your steps. “There are more than a thousand cherry blossom trees around. Locals call this lane the Marriage Road as it is said that lovers who walk hand-in-hand under the trees will get married and live happily ever after.”

He tightens his grips around your hand, and you can swear your palm is getting sweaty from how nervous you are. “You just can’t stop making me blush, can you?”

“I’m just stating out facts.” He chuckles and it’s even more beautiful than the whole scenery. He’s more beautiful than anything you’ve seen. But when he speaks, all trace of humor has dissipated. “You may not remember but... This was the place where I asked you to marry me.”

You have seen it coming but it still shocks you, nonetheless. It’s easier to treat him as a liar who’s telling superstitious stories and pointing things about you because he’s a stalker that knows more about you than he should. But the more he tells his stories, the more they feel like the truth and it’s not just a hunch. His stories are his versions of the dreams you’ve been having. The dreams that you’ve gotten ever since you first met him, and you never told anyone about that.

As you take a seat on the nearest bench, Jaehyun hands you his journal—the one he’s been using to write his novel. “I think it’s time for you to read the story.” But as you reach out to open it, he lays his hand on top of yours. “Before that,” he says, “Remember what I asked you? I want you to guess the ending for me.”

You’ve never thought about it, never imagined how the ending of his story would unravel. He has told you that it was about a pair of lovers meeting each other by fate and separated tragically by death, you knew that much. But anything could’ve separated them, whether it was because of sickness, accident, or simply because of old age, you could’ve guessed wrong. Yet, when your lips moved without thinking, providing answers that make your heart jolt, Jaehyun smiles and says, “Correct.” He then opens the book and gives you the chance to run your eyes through every passage. It’s written in a first-person narrative, allowing you to see through Jaehyun’s eyes as he unveils his story. 

The female lead has your name.

Every line. Every word. Every description. They feel like deja vu and the tiny hairs at your nape begin to raise. Your fingertips tremble as they move to open new pages. These are memories. They truly happened in the past. As you read, you can feel your own coming back, little by little, and by the time you’re halfway through the story, you can guess the next part that’s about to happen or correct little details that may have slipped from his mind.

“They were lilies,” you say, fingers tracing his perfect handwriting. “Not white roses.”

“What?”

“The flowers you gave me on our first anniversary.”

Jaehyun takes a shaky breath, and when he chuckles it sounds like a peal of tiny laughter and a choked sob at the same time. “Is that so?” He weakly asks, fixing his gaze to his lap. “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten.”

But he remembers everything else, everything that matters, even the way he felt back then. You could tell the love he once experienced with you through his eyes, the longing he has suffered as he waits for you to remember him once more, and the agony of being separated from you.

It’s easier to cry than to breathe when the memories of your past life start to dawn on you but you provide your best effort to stay reserved. There are more you need to learn.

The reason why he visited the library was not because he lived nearby. He moved there so he could visit the library, as it was the first time he met you in the previous life. “I was hoping she would remember the place as it was something we both grew fond of,” Jaehyun wrote in his journal, “She always thought I had a passion for books. She was wrong. She was the one who taught me that stories could mean something more. That they could make you feel alive, make you feel something you’ve never experienced just by words. I’d like to believe that these stories were the ones who brought us together, so we could create our own and maybe then, we could inspire other people—to make them feel alive with our stories.

I waited for her every day, from one season to another. The memories I have of her have always been there with me ever since I could remember, but that did not guarantee hers would resurface. Maybe she was looking for me. Maybe she was not. Either way, I couldn’t give up. I would not give up. 

And finally, one day, I saw her again. In the same library, with the same little smile she always had whenever she had her eyes fixated on her book. She appeared exactly the same as the first time I met her 74 years ago. I could not breathe, trapped between reaching out to her or just standing still in the distance, because when our eyes met for a brief second, she looked away. 

She did not remember me.

I was crushed. Devastated. I was nothing but a stranger. Twenty-five years I had been searching for her and now that she stood before me, I lost the ability to speak. It took me another week until I could find the bravery within me. I tried my best to appear as nonchalant as possible, even when my heart was breaking, even when my hands were shaking. I sank my nails into my palms so I wouldn’t take her hand and pull her into my embrace. When she told me her name, I was shocked. Her last name was different but her first name was the same, and I wanted to laugh. Fate could be so cruel, letting her keep her name but not her memories. 

But memories could be re-created, and I learned that none of her habits had changed. I might be a stranger, but to me, she was not. She was my wife and I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her I love her and hear her say the words back to me. I was ready to start over, to make her fall in love with me once more but before I could even begin, I learned that she had belonged to someone else.

And what killed me was that… She did not look happy with him.”

Your breathing stalls. Everything makes sense now. He’s been holding everything to himself. This was the secret he kept from you. And that time when he almost kissed you… What did you say to him?

“Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

That’s what he did. He stopped pretending. 

And you pushed him away, treating both of your feelings and his like a mere high school crush when they were something deeper than anything you’ve ever had. 

You place your lower lip between your teeth, nibbling at it until it grows white. He must have been so hurt, you realize, I’m the worst.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asks, reaching out to take your hand. “You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I—” You shake your head, hoping the tears won’t fall. You give him a reassuring smile. “I want to. I need to remember.” Your smile doesn’t deceive him but he gives you the space you need, believing the honesty in your words.

Your marriage with him only lasted for four years before you passed away in your sleep, your weak lungs could no longer support your system, and through his story, you learned that Jaehyun followed you to the place he shouldn’t have. Because just a few minutes later after you took your final breath, he slit both of his wrists with a knife and hugged your body close to his chest, his blood drenching the white sheets underneath. His lips lingered against your hairline as he spoke, “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

His neat handwriting starts to turn into dark splotches of ink as it is tainted by your tears. You’ve remembered. You’ve remembered everything. Everything that makes you happy and everything that hurts, you’re reliving each and every one of them. 

“Why?” You sob, shoulders quivering as you try to keep your emotions contained. “Why did you do that? You could’ve lived for many more years. Could’ve found someone else.” You bury your face in your palms, voice muffled by your skin. “You could’ve been happy without me.”

You can’t see how he looks at you, can’t feel his touch as he’s nowhere near, but you hear him take his breath. “My mother used to say,” he says, “that two people who are meant to be would always find their way to each other, even in the afterlife.” Jaehyun moves and kneels on the ground in front of you, his hands prying yours away from your face and his smile has never looked this blissful. “That’s why,” he continues, voice so soft it’s almost as light as the wind. “If there’s a chance, no matter how little it is, for me to see you again I would gladly trade my eternity for it.”

There are emotions you can’t explain, ones that you can’t understand. Emotions that make you cry as if the world was ending but also ones that make you feel so blessed to be born into this world, to be able to see him again, to witness his beautiful smile, his beautiful soul, and the beautiful love he has for you.

“Why are you crying?” Jaehyun chuckles softly but the quiver in his voice betrays him. He strokes your cheek, drying your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

Leaning into his touch, you sob against his palm, “I love you,” you confess, “I love you, Jaehyun. Even if my memories never came back, I’d still fall in love with you. Over and over again. I’m sorry you had to wait—”

Jaehyun abruptly stands on his knees, pulling you into his embrace. As your eyes widen in surprise, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, whispering, “If I had to wait a thousand years to be able to have this one moment with you, I’d gladly do it in a heartbeat.” His shoulders begin to shake and you wrap your arms around them, drenching the fabric of his shirt with your tears. “I love you too.”

There’s a voice inside your head that says, ah... so this is how it feels. 

Love... is not so complex after all. It doesn’t have to be. It’s not something to be understood. It’s not something to be thought endlessly. It’s not a choice to be made.

It’s a feeling, and feelings are meant to be felt. And you realize that happiness does not only emerge when your love is answered with the same passion. Happiness is already there in your heart just by loving him. You love him. You just love him. Entirely. Infinitely. 

So you kiss him with the biggest smile you can make, you pull him close with every strength that you have and you let him stay. In this life or another, you will let him stay.

And you will see him again when you wake up.

***

[veinereastath]

considering you make a lot of Harrow content (and bless you for it), do you have any take on what his past could've been? like, who he was, how he got into khonshu's service etc?

Ooooh, boy. This is something that's been bothering me since the show was around episode 3 and... You know what, it's hard, but I will try to put my chaotic thoughts into words.

Beware, long post, because I got carried away and broke Harrow's persona into little bits to analyze what I can.

Alright, alert, this is strong speculation / headcanoning.

* * *

1. There is very little information on Harrow, because those that we can be absolutely sure about are just those:

• he's American (though, funny enough, that's what wiki page says, it's not stated black on white in the show; but I guess it makes sense, so let's accept it as 100% solid fact),

• he was a former avatar of Khonshu and wielder of the Moon Knight title, • he's vegan,

• he speaks Ancient Egyptian, Coptic, and Arabic and knows a bit of Mandarin, but that last one isn't too important,

• he knows some big chunks of history, probably (I'm basing this suggestion on the things and people he mentioned to Steven in episode 1),

• if we accept a loose idea that Harrow is around the same age that Ethan Hawke is, we have early-fifties friendly neighbourhood cult leader.

Aaaand that's it. Bit disappointing, especially since this is the time where someone thirsty for more knowledge would get their hands on the comics and learn more, but... Being a Harrow stan has a big problem, and that is - Arthur Harrow in the show is a totally new, mostly improvised character that barely has anything to do with his comics counterpart (honestly, it came out way better, but still, that means we barely have any outside knowledge).

Fun fact if you haven't watched Assembled: The Making of Moon Knight - the very first idea/draft for Harrow was, according to the producers, Harrow that is some kind of shady billionaire instead of what we got in the end. Also came out way better, I think.

* * * 2. I have all Harrow scenes, even the few-second ones (him standing menacingly in the bus from episode 1, woah), and at this point I've probably memorized all of his dialogue lines, but you know what... Damn, it still barely gives any idea for what he might've been up to in the past. However, if someone came to my room, put a pistol to my head and told me to write few ideas about his possible occupation pre-Khonshu I might have, I would pick these: • psychologist / psychiatrist: let's be honest, Harrow is very good at manipulating people, effectively using his words, body language and touch, and while it's something that you can learn without any sort of psychological degree, it would just fit pretty nicely. It would also tie with how he's portrayed in Marc's & Co mind palace. Notice how his mind totally swapped the roles of everyone from the show - the "good" guys are patients, while Harrow's disciples are hospital's personnel (Bobbi Kennedy and Billy Fitzgerald, for example - these two you could probably recognize from episode 2, where they came to Steven's apartment, posing as/actually being police officers). And on the top of that cake you have The Big Bad himself as... Well, a doctor. A soft-spoken, patient individual. It's interesting how Marc's & Co mind took Harrow's good qualities and put him in charge of his... Huh, let's call it therapy. After episodes 4/5/6 and scenes from that asylum I could genuinely buy Arthur as former doctor, because he indeed does have qualities that would fit into this category - I only suppose it was later he's worldview got corrupted.

The only 'but' I have in this theory - something tells me that Khonshu wouldn't be overly interested in a doctor of any kind being his avatar, but I could be wrong. Still, it irks me a bit. Not very Khonshu-style.

• historian: I won't lie, it's a very loose idea, but hell, who knows. Not much to say about this one, mostly just throwing it in your face for you to think about if you wish. It might be just me looking too deply into just one sentence from museum scene in episode 1, but it's still something to think about. Even if Harrow wasn't a full-time historian, he definitely knows a thing or two, though it could be because of his life experience. Let's be honest, people in their 50ties know something about the world.

• okay, bare with me on this, but! mercenary: listen, I know that Harrow doesn't look too much like a soldier material (though he clearly kicks ass of 2, well, actually, 3 people at once in Episode 6, because Steven & Marc are a package deal), but it would fit nicely with Khonshu's interest in avatars that both can and are mentally ready to get their hands bloody. It would also make an amusing connection to Marc himself, and if we really wanna speculate hard, we could try to somehow connect the Bushman-Marc-Layla's father dilemma with Harrow himself. I just find it curious that the murder of archeologists took place nearby Khonshu's temple, of all places.

Also, if Harrow truly were a mercenary, it would also fit the way he at once point decided that serving justice after the fact is way too late - because someone in this profession sees death on a nearly daily basis, meets people of questionable backgrounds, so that would be a nice beginning for him to just go mad with society, and at some point, also hate himself, in a way (throwback to his confession in the end of episode 3, where he says to Khonshu's ushabti that he enjoyed inflicting pain).

All of it also makes me think about the way he basically growled 'mercenary' towards Steven during their first meeting in the Alps in episode 1. Because it either suggests some kind of hidden contempt towards this occupation because Harrow knows first-hand how disgusting it is, or it also could totally destroy this theory because he actually meant it in a truly derogatory way without actually having first-hand experience in this field of work. As I said in the beginning, it's all a messy speculation, do with that what you will.

* * *

3. The other things I was wondering about is his general status of wealth in the past. Somehow I can't imagine him as a very wealthy person. Either he was just making a simple living at some point (that, however, would clash with the mercenary theory, since this work has a potential for getting a lot of money), or he was, maybe, at some point, totally homeless. An interesting things worth noticing that he said in episode 2 are those:

• "I'm curious, do you think that Khonshu chose you as his avatar because your mind would be so easy to break, or because it was broken already?"

and:

• "I know that being on the right side of things is important to you. Khonshu always tries to ensnare those with a strong moral conscience."

^ also, I find it funny that right after he says that, Khonshu does his typical temper-tantrum shenanigans, knocks over some food and says "You have no conscience." I know that Harrow couldn't hear him at this point, but I find it more probable that Khonshu actually meant it as an offense towards Harrow. I genuinely doubt it was towards Marc/Steven. Steven especially, he's too pure, and he was in control of the body at the time.

Now, as everything else that Harrow says, those sentences as well must be taken with a grain of sand salt, because he knows that Steven is totally lost at what's going on, so Arthur tries to take advantage of it and manipulate him into getting the scarab's location. However, if we accept what he says as truth - and I'm willing to do so in case of these specific lines of dialogue, especially since I believe that Harrow is not truly a liar, but more likely he lies by omission.

Now, the point I'm trying to make is this - we actually know Khonshu has a weak spot for people with broken minds, for example he got Marc into his service when he was truly at his worst, with a gun pressed to his head. I can believe that he might've gotten Harrow in a similar way - either when he had no home, no money and no perspectives and was close to ending himself, or, if we accept the possible mercenary lifepath, he could've broke out of this line of work and found himself tormented with, perhaps, some sort of PTSD and crushing guilt + disgust because of the society as whole. This would make him a person with a broken mind, or one that is on the verge of breaking and just needs a soft push - and surprise, wild Khonshu emerges.

Another important, in my opinion, line of dialogue is this one, from 'Dr. Harrow' in the asylum, by the end of episode 4 (for those who don't remember, he says it to Marc as he's during a sort of panic attack and tries to run away):

"Truly, I understand how you're feeling. I too have suffered from mental illness, breaks in psychic awareness, manic episodes, followed by depression."

Okay. This is, once again, a dangerous territory of 'how much of actual Harrow is in Dr Harrow', because we don't know that, we don't know how much of this Harrow is actually Marc & Co projecting. But if we take it as another hint towards the actual Harrow and his past, we are getting a nice little clue: he indeed was on the verge of breaking, or even totally broken at some point. And once again, we can speculate that either he was a psychologist/psychiatrist that just got overwhelmed with the cons of this line of work (and believe me, it is very tiring, and psychologists also have their own psychologists and so on, it goes in circles basically) or he was a mercenary that suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

* * *

4. Last but not least - at what point did Harrow got invested into Egyptian mythology in general, if ever? Because we know that Marc was probably quite dim in this area (for example, he doesn't know who Khonshu when they meet, he doesn't know Hathor after years of servitude, and Hathor is one of the main characters of the Egyptian pantheon!), and yet Khonshu was interested enough to pick him up, revealing himself to someone who had nearly no knowledge about Egyptian gods at all. So, there are two possibilities:

a) Harrow was also taken in a similar way, not interested in the history of ancient Egypt whatsoever until Khonshu picked him up as his Moon Knight,

b) Harrow had either a general idea, or, even better, already was quite deep into the ideas of Egyptian gods. Hell, considering how hell-bent he is on the idea of justice, even if twisted, it is possible that he himself turned to Khonshu during his breaking point in life because he wanted to, and he was the one who searched for some sort of contact, if he was devoted enough to somehow believe in these gods' existence.

After mixing it up, connecting the dots here and there, there are two main (!!!) headcanon (!!!) backgrounds for Harrow I can come up with.

a) former psychologist/psychiatrist who got overwhelmed with the mental ilnesses of his own patients, quite possibly those who suffered some sorts of trauma from abuse/general injustice, and at some point lost control over himself; he delves deep into depression, and being already somehow interested in the idea of egyptian justice, at some point he gets maniacal enough to genuinely try and contact Khonshu, maybe in the midst of one of his panic attacks or those breaks in psychic awareness he mentions in episode 5. Khonshu sees a pretty nice catch and a mind broken enough to easily get twisted into a well-fit avatar, and so Harrow begins his bloody rampage in his name.

b) former mercenary who, during his escapades, saw first-hand a lot of violence, maybe even got captured and tortured at some point (!), suffering some sort of PTSD. He barely has any grip around the idea of egyptian mythology, but Khonshu appears and possibly gets him out of an unescapable situation (maybe from captivity), thus making Harrow continue on pretty much the same warpath, but now getting his hands bloody in a cause that at least seems better than just killing for money, therefore giving Harrow an illusion of setting himself straight. Also, being a mercenary gives a nice chance to learn Arabic.

* * *

5. Another thing worth thinking about is at what point exactly did Harrow turn his back on Khonshu and started being interested in what Ammit's views were. In this case, I barely can get anything solid from the show itself, so once again it's a speculation playground. I was thinking that perhaps he was a witness to someone preparing to abuse someone, making plans, and yet he wasn't allowed to act beforehand because Khonshu makes a point of waiting to the point where there is no turning back and evil has already been done. That sounds like something that might've make Harrow either start to strongly question his loyalty, or immediately break the deal and turn to Ammit, either momentarily, because he might've already been intrigued by the idea of her during his service (though I doubt it - if Khonshu was in his mind, it might've been risky), or found out about her during his separation from Khonshu, seeking a new way to regain some sort of sense in his life. Perhaps once again he gor thrown into the pit of despair and self-hatred, his mind broken both by past trauma and Khonshu himself being extremely abusive, desperately looking for answers, and boom, wild Ammit appears in some sort of old history books. This might've looked to Harrow like a final solution to the problem of world's injustice, and also serving justice to himself after genuinely enjoying inflicting pain on Khonshu's behalf (and perhaps even before then, if we accept the mercenary-lifepath possibility. Or he might've just been a psycho-doctor, though Harrow doesn't give me psychopatic vibes, honestly).

... Alright, I'm done. Thank you for the ask, anon. :") Have a treat in these trying times: