#and liked him already but this skyrocketed my opinion by so much

[chayannesegg]

okay rewatching the creation lore and it's SO sweet the way mike (and mine!) are consistent in advocating for richas during the whole thing: telling people off for pressuring him for answers he doesn't have, trying to keep blame off of him given the impossible situation he's been put in (obviously he'd never have killed his tio tubbo if he knew this would happen! it was meant to be a bet), attempting to take the brunt of sunny's anger. it was such a tense situation and he does a great job navigating it on behalf of richas

he's also still very kind with sunny (esp once he realizes how upset she is, bar a few mistimed jokes) trying to focus on bringing back her dad, while firmly protecting richas and it's just so good!! he's so good!! even with his relationship with sunny being NOT good! she's been antagonistic with him for days, and now he's defending the person she sees as directly responsible for her dad being gone, but he still tries even if sunny is not able to recognize it (bc he's the adult and she's hurting so much)

i'm just so glad richas had mike with him for that conversation. it would have been so much harder for him if someone wasn't there firmly on his side, defending him and his feelings

he comes across so independent and brazen-faced most of the time, but he's just a little boy put in an impossible position.

told he's accidentally really killed his tio; told he's holding the piece that's keeping him from returning; told he's ranked 7th in tubbo's hierachy and disposable in the face of other eggs; watching chayanne and sunny get increasingly annoyed with him (and threatening him!)

who is going to care what he thinks, what he feels, about how he's expressing his hurt?? well, his pai ofc and it's so lucky he was there with him

[lyneira]

♡ How to earn the lion's love ♡

-> things you can do to make this lazy lion love you to the moon and back

leona x reader (fluff!)

check out malleus' version here! -> ♡ how to gain the dragon's affection ♡

Lull him to sleep!

Yes, I know he can easily fall asleep on his own already, but if you were there with him, he would sleep 10x better! Do anything to relax him. Let him rest his head on your lap, run your fingers through his smooth mane, or maybe even hum a soft tune and he will be at peace.

The first time you have him lay his head on your lap, he'll feel a bit tense. Sure, he's used to others doing things for him, but he's not used to being given such intimate affection. Assure him that it's okay to be this vulnerable. Though, you needn't say anything at all. Tell him by gently rubbing his temples, enveloping him with the warmth of your hands, and feel as he allows himself to let go as the weight of his head falls deeper into your lap. If he wakes up and sees you smiling tenderly down at him, he might immediately pop up off your lap. He'd do this, not because you startled him, but because his heart can't handle such a beautiful sight and he'd need to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.

Shower him with compliments!

This guy has a lot of pride and an ego that needs to frequently be fed. Just do it, will ya? Treat him like the king he is because at home, they simply don't treat him right. But no flattering him! He'll get irritated by your insincerity (and he'll probably call you a bootlicker lol 💀) if you do.

Don't allow him to tell you "never mind" or "it doesn't matter" when it comes to talking about his feelings or his opinions!

Even if he says "it's a pain" to try to explain it and will stubbornly attempt to keep his mouth shut, be persistent in wanting to hear what he has to say! If you're far more stubborn than he is, he'll eventually let up. Again, back home, he has often been treated with disregard for being the second son, so do the opposite and go all out with it! Make him feel heard and his appreciation for you will skyrocket. The foreign feeling of opening up to someone may be weird to him, but if that someone is you, then it's a feeling he'd be willing to get used to.

Be appreciative and acknowledge his efforts!

He’ll probably shrug you off, saying that he only did it for his own selfish reasons and whatnot, but stand your ground! Deep down, it warms his heart that you see him, and that his accomplishments and efforts aren't going unnoticed. He might say that he doesn’t need your thanks. Even so, a little appreciation can’t hurt from time to time, can it? And it'll go a long way too. You’ll notice that he’ll be doing those things you've thanked him for more frequently. (He'll act kind enough when he's around you that Ruggie would be like, "Hey, y/n...what the heck have you done to Leona?!" 😨 lol)

Simply play chess with him!

It doesn't matter if you're good or bad at it, play his favorite game with him and he'll enjoy it either way. If you're skillful, his competitive spirit will come out and he'll be having a fun time going against you! No worries if you're bad at it, he's willing to teach you even though he'd be like 🙄 for most of the time. But as you eagerly listen and try to grasp the tactics he teaches you, he'll subtly smile to himself. He's secretly happy you're trying to spend time with him doing what he enjoys.

Also, attempt to make it a routine with him. In his mundane life of attending classes, give him something to look forward to, (which would be getting to play chess with you)

For most of his life, Leona has been overshadowed by his brother and has lost much motivation because of it. So let him know that you see him, that you hear him, that you appreciate him, and maybe he'll come to find one of those rare motivations. That, being you 😘

a/n: now that my posts are finally showing up in the tags, I'll continue this series on this blog instead of @ne-nene-ne ! That'll include any of my other writing as well!

I realize that I might honestly be more biased towards Leona because this one was longer than Malleus' 💀 (I love both boys tho, I swear)

As for the next victim, I'm thinking of doing Azul next! then maybe Idia too 🤔

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[lunatic-pudge]

Werewolf Sniper SFW and NSFW Headcanons

SWF

-Good lord, where do I even begin? Let's just say that Soldier pissed Merasmus off so much that everyone got turned into some sort of mythological being. For Sniper, he beceame a werewolf

-His "normal" form is just him with wolf ears and a big fluffly tail, he also has slight more body hair as well, his form take a more wolfish appearance and behavior when there's a full moon out. He had to cut slits in his hat so he could still wear it

-He likes to think he's still relatively the same, but it's just him in denial. His sense of smell is heightened, he is able to see better at night, and, much to his dismay, he isn't able to hide behind his stoic facade anymore. Ears perking up at the mention of treats and tail wagging when happy. Yes, Scout makes fun of him for it

-He does use this new werewolf form to his advantage though. Finding himself out and about, hunting more. He starts noticing how foods taste different, eating and craving meat moreso than usual and forgoing sweets, mainly chocolates cause they make his poor tummy hurt now

-When it comes to Sniper in a relationship aspect, he becomes an even more protective lover. He finds himself following you around more, like a lost puppy. He's basically glued to your hip. He'll also expect more physical affection as well (in private, he's not good with PDA) He wants his ears scritched, god damn it >:( He will whine and give you sad puppy eyes until you give in. He's evil like that

-And due to his wolfness, he'll start trying to "groom" you, licking and slobbering all over you, trying to clean you up even though it can feel like the opposite. It's also his way of trying to mark his scent on you. He wants people to know you are his mate and ONLY his, even if it means covering you in slobber

-Now when it's a full moon out, you won't have to worry about your safety, but you'll have to worry about the saftey of other's  when they are around your lap dog of a boyfriend

-When in his more wolf-esque form, he acts more wolf-like than human. He tends to be more mute in that form as well, resorting to growls, howls, barks, and other wolf noises

-He's feral, he's even more overprotective of you (if that's possible) in his wolf form. He likes to keep you safe in his camper, but you're usually having to keep him from mauling people like Scout cause he likes to push people's buttons

-So, in my very biased opinion, werewolf Sniper is a 12/10, would recommend

NSFW

-I'd like to think his sex drive was rather normal at first, but after becoming a werewolf, it skyrocketed. He's embarrassed and couldn't help it. He just can't help but notice how plush your thighs looked. Or how the shirt you were wearing was hugging your figure. And the way you bent down to pick something up? Don't even get him started. He was ready to POUNCE

-Now Sniper already had a scent and breeding kink, but now, as a werewolf, OH BOY. It's amplified by, like, 10 times

-Let's start with the scent kink. It's like his heightened sense of smell is a secret blessing to him. He loves to bury his face up against the crook of your neck and surrounding himself with you smell. It's what really gets him going

-Your perfume/cologne, your natural scent, everything you just smells so good to him. He has a bad habit of stealing your clothes when you're not around. Not only to comfort himself, but also to get off. Could be a shirt, bra, or underwear, he'll press the article of clothes up to his face, inhaling your scent while he strokes himself. Whimpering and panting like the good boy he is. Definitely would cum in your underwear, which would only fuel his drive

-Now for that breeding kink >:)

-Sniper always loved the idea of filling you to the brim with cum, breeding you and making you his officially (in his mind). He will have you in positions that will ensure his cum stays inside you. Even keeping your hips tilted up if he has to

-He'll whisper in your ear about how beautiful you look filled up to the brim with cum, and how beautiful you'd look pregnant. Stomach swollen and so round. Breasts filled with milk. Pregnant with his child. And since he's a werewolf, he'll has a knot so it helps with keeping all his cum in you

-He's also very bitey and will leave scratches on you. He doesn't mean to be so rough with you, he underestimates his new found strength. He just loves to mark you up. It's also another way claim you

-Loves praises. Call him a good boy. Hold him, kiss him, mark him up. Show him how much he means to you. Show him that, even as a werewolf, you still love him. He might just cry from the praises

That's all for now. I just really love wolf Sniper. Hims a baby boy who I just wanna love and protect.

[josiesullysblog]

His and Only His

~AGED UP Neteyam x Na’vi reader

~Explicit content, dom Neteyam, Sub reader, toy play

~Proofread?-no

~Summary- You were never one to let people walk all over you, but once you and Neteyam meet that changes.

***

You were a very opinionated person. If you wanted to say something, you were going to say it regardless if it hurt someone's feelings. Your mother said this was the best thing about you, that so many people are fake and it's refreshing to see someone so real.

So, you always did what you wanted, you weren't hurting anyone so why hold back what you wanted to say? You weren't mean, bitchy, some people would say, but you believed you were living your truth.

You had many friends, but none of them topped the friendship you had with Kiri. You two were connected by the hip, doing anything and everything together, but you never expected to fall for her older brother.

It started normal, you, of course, knew of him due to his title, and he was your best friend’s brother. A small hi or wave would happen and you two would be on with your day. Until one day it changed.

His body changed, and you had wondering eyes. He was taller, his voice was deeper, and he started hanging out a lot more. Neteyam noticed changes in you as well, your body started shaping, and you grew big boobs, bigger than anyone.

He wasn't the only one noticing the difference between you and other Na’vi girls. He couldn't explain why but it started to irk him how others spoke about you, but he knew his thoughts were worse. You were a loud opinionated girl but he knew he could break you.

He could make you shut up, no other man could do that to you. You needed to be dominated to have a man put you in your place but he knew you wouldn't voice this. So he’d have to break you, but he found this more fun.

He memorized your schedule, he appeared only for a short period but a long enough time to where he knew he’d have your attention.

“How come I always see you?” you questioned him, “oh i’m on your mind?” he smirked at you. You shook your head, “no! It's not like that Neteyam,” he noticed the small blush appear on your cheeks. Perfect.

You had a crush on Neteyam, I mean how could you not? He was the finest man and had the best manners, but what you didn't know was that he was feeling you just as much.

Friday, was your relaxing day. No stresses, no jobs, and no training, a whole day dedicated to you. You lay in the sun, not noticing Neteyam’s eyes lingering on you.

“Beautiful day hm?” you jumped up looking at the voice, “yeah,” you said carefully watching the boy as he came closer, “feels nice to just relax?” you nodded, not having any words to say.

“You know the best way to relax is?” you shook your head noticing how he held a hand behind his back, “one thing I’ve learned is that those sky people love pleasure.”

He pulled out a small thing, it fit in the palm of his hand it made your curiosity skyrocket, “what is that?” he smiled, “this my dear, is to help relax you in the best way possible, orgasm,” your eyes widened, “what?”

Neteyam laughed, “you out of all people should know,” you immediately stood up, “what do you mean by that?” Neteyam found it's comical that you thought you could intimate him. “You're always so tense,” he stood behind you, messaging your shoulders causing your breath to hitch.

“Don’t you want to feel good,” he couldn't think right, his voice, his touch, everything it was too much, “I guess,” he kissed your neck, “then you’d let me put this in you.” his words made sense you didn't know why.

You wanted to relax, “okay,” his hands traveled down taking your bottom off. His fingers found your entrance a moan coming out as a result, “already so wet for me,” your head flew back, “oh, yes please,” Neteyam smiled he had you just where he wanted you.

He stuck a finger in, stretching you, molding you to be ready for the toy. He found it after trying to get Lo’ak to come home after spending time with Spider. He knew it was wrong to steal, but the thought of you struggling to stand up because of something so small turned him on.

“Once this goes in you,” he said as he pushed it in, you threw your hand over your mouth which was quickly grabbed. His hand proceeded to play with your breast, “slow down Teyem,” his smile deepened, “i’m the only one who can take this out [Y/n].”

He became serious, grabbing your chin, “if I find out this is taken out, it won't be pretty for you.” the toy felt uncomfortable but fun. You squirmed as Neteyam finally let go of you, “say yes sir,” you tried catching your breath, “yes sir.”

You were so stupid. The only thought going through your mind was how could you let him put that thing in you. Every step you took was a reminder of what you let him do to you. Kiri would be so upset, your thoughts got the best of you.

You helped bandage up anyone hurt in the war party, hopefully, enough time to get your thoughts straight. This bit walked in, so insignificant you didn't even know his name. “Hey, [Y/n] help him!” you smiled as you told the boy to sit down.

Throughout the whole interaction, not many words were exchanged. You were so focused that you hadn't even noticed Neteyam lurking. You didn't know he was there till a vibration caused you to gasp, “are you alright,” you nodded, “yeah just got a body chill.”

You finished him off, holding back moans, “maybe you should lie down,” he said walking off, you just nodded as you made eye contact with Neteyam.

You walked over to the boy, “Neteyam stop,” he just smiled, “stop what? I’m not the one touching other boys,” your eyes widen, “that wasn't my choice I had to and why do you even care,” he grabbed your chin quickly, “everything having to do with you is my concern.”

The anger in your body dissolved as he spoke, “you always have something to say hm? I’m going to show you, your nothing but a cock sleeve.”

“That's not true,” you felt him intensify the vibrations, “look at you, fighting back moans, and you're not a cock sleeve,” your knees bucked, falling into Neteyam, “it's better if you admit it now.”

“Never,” you weren't going to betray your friend, your best friend. Neteyam forced you onto your knees, standing in front of you. “Suck,” he showed you his shaft, the head dripping with precum. “Don’t make me ask again.”

You wanted to push his buttons, see how far they’d go but at that moment you listened to him. Your mouth took him, bobbing on contact. Neteyam moaned watching you, “see I told you, nothing but a horny slut.”

You didn't hear his words, as you let your hand surround the rest of the part that didn't fit in your mouth. Vibrations roared inside you, causing you to moan on his dick. “Fuck just like that,” you were gone, like an addict you wanted more of him.

“I’m going to cum and when I do, pretty girl your all mine,” you went faster wanting him to cum, which you exceeded. He let out a loud moan, “fuck,” you wiped your mouth as you looked at yourself. Hair a mess, on the floor, you don't even know how you go to this point.

You shook your head, “why?” you sobbed, “why are you doing this to me?” he just smiled, “because you need me,” you looked at him confused, “you don't know it yet but you want to be dominated you love it.”

You moaned as you felt yourself coming near to orgasm, “you were made to be on your knees,” he watched you on the floor, “everything about you is submissive.”

You moaned louder as you were near, trying to cover your sound as the toy finally came to a stop.

“Your mine, [Y/n],” he got to your level making eye contact, “your body, your soul, everything you were made for me,” he kissed you as his hands slid up and down your arm.

“What about Kiri? Everyone else they’ll say-,” he cut you off, “do you think I care about what they have to say? I want you,” he grabbed your chin, “if I want you, i’ll have you.”

You stood up, wiping your tears, “how do I know you won't hurt me?” Neteyam smiled, “I want to fuck you, make you my horny slut, but I promise you this I’ll never mistreat you.”

He kissed your hand, “you are my most prized possession and you’ll be treated as such,” you smiled feeling giddy hearing him say that, “I’d like that.”

He smiled, “I know, you don't know what I have in store for you, little one,” his hands played with your nipples, “you have no idea.”

***

Hey guys! Sorry this was late I had last-minute plans but I got this done. The week is over so I’ll be going back to my old posting schedule :( but summer coming soon! Hope you all enjoyed it!

[aqua-dan]

Fav artist for Garth?

I have been thinking about this ask for multiple hours, and I am unsure if I can pick a true favorite because there are so many wonderful artists who have drawn Garth over the years! However, I think I built a pretty solid list of my top 5 artists for Garth (oops!), so here goes:

#1: Phil Jimenez

I have so much love for the way he draws (and writes) Garth! Of every artist out there, I feel he has the most love for drawing Garth and I can feel that care and attention to detail in all his work. I am absolutely in love with the way he draws Garth's expressions too! He allows him to have exaggerated expressions and really allow us to feel the emotions of the story through the art. He's not afraid of showing him in painful and less than idealistic moments, and allows his face to reflect that. I think it's something that a lot of current comic book artists shy away from for fear of making characters look "ugly." But Jimenez goes all in on it and still makes Garth look stunning 24/7!

#2: Ramona Fradon

Ramona Fradon was one of the co-creators of Garth, and was, in my opinion, one of the most incredible people in the comic's art industry. She sadly passed away last month at age 97, and she only just announced her retirement from art a month prior to her passing. Her influence on the industry, especially for female artists, was monumental, and her art style stood out so uniquely amongst others. I've always loved how fantastical her art is. She creates fascinating underwater creatures and has an absolutely precious way of drawing Garth. I appreciate that she made the decision to draw him looking as young as he was at the time, especially since a lot of other teen sidekicks were drawn to look older. I feel very lucky that I was able to get a piece of art from her (the first pic in this section!) around the time of her passing. I will treasure it forever!

#3: Nick Cardy

There is something so charming about the way that Nick Cardy draws Garth! There's a simplicity and retro feeling to it that comes off as so fun! I don't know exactly what it is about his art, but it always makes me smile!

4: Mark Buckingham

Buckingham's style is like if "stretch and squash animation" was a static art style, and I LOVE it. It looks so funky and bouncy and expressive! It's one of those styles that I don't think everyone loves, but it really works for me and makes the comics extremely enjoyable to read for the art alone! It's not super polished and has some rough edge qualities, but that's precisely why I like it!

5: Lucas Meyer

Meyer is a newcomer in the scene of comics, but WOW! I am not immune to how gorgeous his art style is. I'm so happy that he's been named the ongoing artist for the current series! (Even if I can't get good writing, I'll at least take the nice art!) I think his style is so clean and pretty. I do wish that he went more "all-in" on expressions sometimes, as I do feel that his characters all look slightly generically pretty and don't emote particularly much. That said, the art is undeniably gorgeous, and he's already skyrocketed himself up onto my personal favorites list despite only starting with DC in 2022.

I do have a few honorable mentions as well, which include: Ivan Reis and George Perez.

There have been plenty of artists who did a great job, but these are my personal favorites! Thank you so much for the ask!

[xjulixred45x]

Kaigaku/Genya/ObaMitsu x Yui Komori! Reader

request:

hello! I saw that requests are open so I want to make one, mainly headcanons of kaigaku (probably from the aus reverse because the canon is a bastard), genya and mitsuri/obanai (as a poly relationship) with a couple that is like yui komori,! Take your time with this order and good luck in your studies!

Hello! I wouldn't say exactly Revérse AU. Kaigaku is (in my opinion) one of the most WASTED characters in the entire series, more than a son of a bitch, I feel like we don't get to see ANYTHING of him to understand his motives. I understand you sister.

This will be long😬 but I hope you enjoy it

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: Female

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/kidnapping, PTSD, kidnappers are mentioned in some cases, SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA AND ANIME, the reader has a personality like Yui Komori, Kaigaku can be somewhat OOCHurt/Comfort, Fluff.

Kaigaku Inadama

He probably knew you from 1-the Wisteria house (those that appear in chapter 9) or 2-you are related in some way to Jigoro (his and Zenitsu's sensei).

Let's go for the first, there is already a lot of the second.

Definitely at first he didn't understand why you were so friendly, and it even got on his nerves thinking that it was some kind of facade to attack at any moment.

But seeing that it wasn't like that, he really doesn't know how to deal with someone so gentle and kind. Or why he feels the need to get your attention.

He tries to be his normal arrogant self, tease you a little, but most of the time he can't bring himself to be like that with you. Not when you take care of him with such gentleness, which he's not used to.

A glutton for your food, he doesn't say much when you bring him his daily portions, but he doesn't leave a crumb behind. He's a glutton for your cooking.

Although it may not seem like it at first, he is a good listener, while he eats and you talk to him, try to remember the things that you seem to like, so he can be more prepared to try to like you.

A great show-off! But that was already seen coming. Especially if you ask him to see his techniques, his ego (already through the roof) is going to skyrocket.

He may even be more dramatic with his injuries just so that you care for him and look at him more than the other patients, he is somewhat capricious, but be patient with him, he will live.

If we talk about more advanced terms of relationship, Kaigaku is quite protective of you, but not in the traditional way so to speak, he is protective without you knowing it most of the time, like giving death glares to those who he feels are talking bad about you to your back, or always having the katana nearby when they go out at night, you never know...

Although he definitely won't think twice about fighting with someone to defend your honor. Especially after knowing about your past with abuse, he won't tolerate it.

Kaigaku is BAD with emotions, but he definitely won't leave you suffering, if the PTSD attacks are being especially bad he will try to be there for you, mainly with physical contact (not suffocating). He will get better the more time he spends with you.

Speaking of, if the people who hurt you somehow come back into your life...haha. They better run, Kaigaku is going to hunt them (although you don't have to know that part).

What else is he supposed to do!? Someone as good as you... just won't let little shits get away with it.

He is not religious at all, but he will let you do what you need to feel safe, even if it doesn't make sense to him, he knows that in a world with demons, one needs to hold on to something.

If we talk about the timeline where he becomes a Demon, you already know who his first meals would be ;)

Even if he becomes a demon, I see him watching over you from a distance. If you join him, even better! It can protect you much better that way.

ALTHOUGH- I don't think he'll let you turn into a demon, not because he doesn't want to, he's just scared of the possibility that you will 1- die or 2- forget about him completely.

But if we talk about a timeline where he does NOT become a demon, it is most likely that he will try to make amends for what he did in the past in some way (what with Gyomei and partly Zenitsu, although it would not be easy).

Fortunately he always seems to regain energy when he comes to visit you, seriously, his companions literally don't understand how you have him so tamed (especially Zenitsu).

In general it is like having your own Bulldog, aggressive but loyal.

Genya Shinazugawa

You're going to be the death of this man--in a good way!

When he met you at the Mariposa mansion, he already couldn't handle the other nurses, but you insisted on taking care of him, which made it much worse.

He's obviously not mad at you! He just doesn't know how to handle his nerves. Although with your perseverance and soft personality, he learns to AT LEAST not stutter SOOOOO much in front of you and have a decent conversation(Progress!).

Being so gentle and friendly, it's only natural that he gravitates towards you. His mother, you remind him a lot of his mother. It hurts but at the same time it feels great.

So he tries to help you from time to time with the tasks you do around the mansion, like carrying heavy things or reaching something from a high shelf (we all know it's not a problem for him).

Although at first you thought he just honestly didn't like you, because of how he sulks when he's nervous, if it weren't for the other butterfly girls, maybe you wouldn't have noticed his Crush for you.

You would have to take several first steps, Genya simply wouldn't dare to do it without a CLEAR clue that he has a chance with you (my poor boy has self-esteem problems).

If we talk about more advanced terms of the relationship, Genya is still the shyer of the two, but he is more likely to initiate physical contact than when they were not a couple. Dude, holding hands, hugs from behind, stuff like that.

Genya is quite careful with you, mostly because he is somewhat afraid of scaring you with his appearance and height, especially when you tell him what you went through in the past.

He's obviously angry, and of course! Who would hurt someone as good as you!? They don't deserve to breathe. But it focuses more on comforting you about the situation.

He has his fair share of nightmares related to what happened that night, and while he's not very good at consoling, he does his best (and honestly he's better than Kaigaku in that department, he's like a teddy bear).

Thanks to Gyomei, he has some understanding of religion, so he sees your prayers as something .

Be grateful that you have something to draw comfort from.

LIVE-FOR-YOUR-FOOD-Did you see that drawing of him blushing while Aoi tries to get him to eat? That's you two at the beginning.

Although of course, now that they are in trust, he really appreciates when you bring him some bento after a mission (demons don't know well people). Take advantage of these moments to let him talk about your day and how it went while he was away.

I once tried to help you cook something, but I failed miserably and almost set the kitchen on fire.

I once tried to help you cook something, but I failed miserably and almost set the kitchen on fire.

If the people who hurt you in some way come back into your life, don't worry! The shotgun is loaded and Genya is already deadly enough to go against high-ranking Demons, heartless morons are nothing to him.

Even if they don't die, it will ensure that they are away from your life.

In general, he can't stand seeing you afraid, he will do whatever it takes to see you happy, safe and healthy.

Iguro Obanai + Mitsuri Kanroji

(these two are my Comfort Ship)

(anyways)

Mitsuri would try to keep in touch with you to make sure you were doing well, so to speak.

Obanai was the one who had the hardest time opening up to you, obviously, but with the help of Mitsuri and your attitude, I can start to be tolerant and little by little start to like you.

Obanai could empathize with you over the topic of the turbulent past, so he was able to overcome his "rejection" towards you much faster than one would expect thanks to this.

Mitsuri is ridiculously more obvious with her Crush on you, Obanai is more discreet, but in itself the fact that you are a woman, you are not Mitsuri and HE TOLERATES YOU is already enough of a clue for those who know him.

It's say that after your rescue you ended up at the Butterfly State. Obanai and Mitsuri will take advantage of any opportunity to check on you, have a chat with you, etc.

Mitsuri helps you with her enormous strength with heavy tasks, she can even carry you if you are very tired, don't worry, for her you don't even weigh like a bunch of grapes.

Obanai is quieter, but he accompanies you in day-to-day tasks, apart from the fact that he seems to be ruder to staff who are not especially YOU. Shinobu ends up serving as Cupid here and assigns you to him constantly.

If we talk about more advanced relationship terms, They are both a love and balance each other perfectly.

Mitsuri is much more chatty and cuddly, Obanai is more serious but gives meaningful gestures without the need for words.

Mitsuri is a great inspiration in general, Obanai is someone you can empathize with much more due to past experiences and certain shared feelings they come to have. Mitsuri does everything she can to stop them from thinking those things.

As I said at the beginning, it is most likely THEY who saved you, so they are more aware of your past related to abuse. They are very careful about it, especially Mitsuri because he doesn't want to go into unknown territory and make you feel bad, but he tries his best to make you feel better.

Obanai is better at dealing with crises, having gone through years of his own traumatic experience, he is better informed on the subject and will share everything about it with Mitsuri.

In general, both of them open up to you so that you feel more comfortable with them to tell them things and everything is as balanced as possible.

Pile of hugs pile of hugs pile of hugs--

Obanai doesn't eat much, but he definitely tries to leave his plate empty to make you and Mitsuri happy.

Mitsuri LOVES your food, everyone does, but with Mitsuri's appetite, it's understandable that she'll be the one who eats the most of your desserts.

If those who hurt you return...it won't be for long, they will have a wild Obanai behind them while Mitsuri distracts you with some sword tricks along with Kaburamaru around your neck preventing you from turning your head to where Obanai is.

Even MITSURI would be eager for revenge, even if they don't want them dead, they want them to pay for harming someone as good and innocent as you.

They bring out the worst in her, so to speak.

Overall, they are a very balanced and loving trio. They make sure you NEVER feel vulnerable and unprotected again. Not their your guard.

[gemini-sensei]

Not really a request but I always wanted to ask, what do you think the characters full adult height is?

Oh interesting question 🤔

I tried my best, but these are just my first thoughts, so take it with a pinch of salt. I also went based off of Google searches of the actors' heights 😅 so yeah. This is... something lol.

○●○

My immediate thought is Sam doesn't grow much taller. Maybe an inch, but for the most part she is done growing.

On the other hand, Anthony already skyrocketed. His growth spurt made Sam the shortest in their family and he likes to tease her for it. By adulthood, he gets to be 5'9.

Miguel is 5'11 in adulthood.

Hawk is a solid 5'10, but if he keeps his tall mohawk, it adds a good 5 or 6 inches.

Tory gets another two inches, so like 5'8 or 5'9. Sometikes she likes to wear heeled boots just for the hell of it, so additionally another two or three inches with those.

Robby is like 5'9. Not much more growth from him either.

Demetri tops off at 6'1. Tall boy but sometimes he hates it (just my opinion).

Yasmine stays the same, so about 5'9-ish. She also wears heels and gains a few inches like that.

Moon get to 5'5 and stops there. Sometimes she wears heels, but not as often as Yasmine.

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Congrats on 300 followers, Ray!!! For a request, how about something extra fluffy…

Callum meeting Rayla’s parents (and Runaan, of course) and accidentally lets slip that he wants to marry her

Mando this is perfect thank you so much, I've been itching to write some rayllum since season 5 dropped but haven't had any idea which direction to take. I hope you like it!!

When Rayla poked her head out of the makeshift tent, she looked almost as terrified as Callum was. Maybe it should have made him feel better to know that he wasn’t alone, but instead, his nerves skyrocketed, his heart doubling its already-too-fast pace in his chest.

He should have gone somewhere else, anywhere else in the makeshift camp they’d set up after the battle at the Starscraper. But he hadn’t been able to shake the idea that Rayla might need him. The last time she’d seen Runaan, after all, he’d threatened to kill her. But this was pointless, wasn’t it? None of the people in Rayla’s tent had so much as raised their voices, and Callum’s pacing had probably interrupted their reunion, and he’d made a bad impression without them even needing to see him—

“Do you want to meet them?” Rayla asked.

Callum blinked. It took a second for the words to sink in through his panic, and even then, he opened his mouth and closed it several times before he could find his voice. “Sure?”

Rayla gave him a small, nervous smile and extended her hand. Callum reached out to take it, then hesitated.

“Are you… are you sure?”

Rayla smacked his arm. “They know everything already, dummy.”

“Oh!” Just when he thought he couldn’t get any more terrified. “Okay.”

He slipped his hand into Rayla’s, gripping it tightly, and she pulled him through the opening. 

All three of her parents were armed. That did not seem like a good sign.

Runaan’s arms were folded, a steely glare on his face. Lain and Tiadrin were a little more relaxed, standing with their arms around each other’s waists, but their faces were devoid of any discernible emotion. Callum swallowed hard.

To his shock, it was Runaan who broke the silence. The older man’s glare deepened into something sadder, and he bowed his head. 

“I know you must have mixed feelings about seeing me again, after… what transpired since we last met. I thought I knew the weight of your stepfather’s life, that I had factored the place he held in the hearts of those who loved him against the harm he dealt my people and found the scales tipped against him. But I have committed actions just as cruel against you, and you still chose to spare me. I’m grateful for that— and more importantly, I’m grateful that you kept Rayla safe when I could— when I would not.”

Callum swallowed again, this time holding back grief instead of fear. He had made his peace with Rayla loving Runaan— but peace with what happened to his dad was a long way off.

More than anything, he wished it didn’t have to be this way. That meeting the three people who meant so much to the girl he loved wouldn’t have to be tainted by so much loss. 

“We’re all grateful,” Tiadrin said, her cool expression breaking into an understanding smile. Lain gave him a similar look.

Their warmth thawed Callum enough to find the right words. “You raised an incredible daughter. Being with her has been the most incredible privilege of my life.”

“A mage and a poet. You picked a good one, moonberry,” Lain said, winking at Rayla. She ducked her head, but not enough to hide her smile. 

“You’re under no obligation, of course, but I can assure you you’ll always be welcome in the Silvergrove,” Tiadrin added to Callum.

A grimace chased Rayla’s grin away. “Actually… he won’t. Neither of us will. I’m a ghost.” She turned to Runaan. “They banished me for botching our mission.”

“But you saved the dragon prince!” Runaan bellowed, outrage pouring from every word. It raised Callum’s opinion of him, just slightly.

“And that won’t bring Ram, Skor, Callisto, and Andromeda back to life,” Rayla replied quietly. 

The names cast a silence over the tent. Callum looked down, giving the others a moment to mourn, letting them break it on their own terms.

“But where will you go?” Tiadrin asked.

Callum raised his head. “She can come back to Katolis with me.”

Lain raised an eyebrow. “A lone elf in a human castle?”

“She won’t be alone. I would stay with her for the rest of my life— and so she’ll have a home there for the rest of her life, too.”

A split second later, he realized what he said, and fought the urge to clamp his hands over his mouth. 

He meant it. Of course he did. He’d faced enough with Rayla to understand how deeply he loved her— and he’d faced enough without her to understand how much it ached to be away from her. But there was a difference between knowing she was the only person he wanted to spend his life with and admitting that to her parents within five minutes of introducing himself.

He risked a glance at them to find that Tiadrin’s smile had only widened, and he allowed himself a single, relieved exhale.

“Then let’s talk about that,” she said, waving him over to her corner of the tent. Taking her hint, Lain and Runaan motioned Rayla over to the other end. 

Callum glanced at Rayla, tense, only to find her beaming, her eyes shining with tears. She raised their entwined hands and kissed the back of his before letting him go, lightly pushing him over to where her mother stood waiting.

“I’m sorry,” Callum blurted, before she could even get a word out, directing the words more to the wall of the tent than to her. “I never meant to imply that I wanted to— to take Rayla away from you, or make any decisions for her. I know I shouldn’t have said that, but—"

“I’m glad you did.”

Callum finally met her eyes.

“A prince who ran away with an assassin. A human who can do primal magic. A dragonguard who never once abandoned his post.”

Tiadrin’s beaming face blurred as Callum found his own eyes brimming with tears. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel them, and only succeeded in pushing them onto his cheeks. Tiadrin gently reached out, wiping them away, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“I can think of no one better to entrust with my daughter’s future than you.”

She let go of his shoulders and reached up, removing one of the silver bands that encircled her horns. “Ethari made this for Lain when he told him he wanted to ask me to marry him. I got this—" she tapped the matching silver band on her other horn— “on my wedding day. I suppose I could have taken the old one off then, but I’ve been too attached to it. But I’m ready to let it go.” Carefully, she placed the band in Callum’s hands.

“You’re so young, Callum. Take some time to be with Rayla now, to understand who you are in peace. If you decide, at the end of that, to give this back to me, I won’t judge you.”

She stepped back and gave him a wink. “But if you decide you want to pass it on to a new owner… well, I have a hunch that she’ll be ready.”

[yuikomorii]

Admin, may we know if there is something that bothers you about Ayato?

// Although Ayato is my best boy, there are some aspects that bother me, but not necessarily about him but about the way he was written throughout the games. It’s alright if you disagree with me, this is simply my opinion!

To begin with, Ayato is described as an awful narcissist in the first character sheet. Because they're vampires, DL characters must be sadistic, and I loved that they made them cruel, because humans are just prey in their eyes, and they're basically monsters. Returning to Ayato, he fit the DO-S criteria until they decided to make him the most heroic and selfless Diaboy of them all out of the blue. True, these aren't bad traits at all, and I believe in character development, but in Ayato's case, it was already far too much to the point where he almost lost his initial personality.

I talked with some of my friends about it and it feels as if Rejet victimizes Ayato. You may be wondering how they do that, but bear with me as I explain. In LE, Ayato is the only character who has no allies (except for Yui), he receives no apology, and everyone begins to hate him in such an OOC manner. I described it better in this post and honestly, Rejet made everyone way too mean towards him. I’m sure at least Laito or Subaru would have felt bad for Ayato in such a situation but they actually didn’t and that was way too uncharacteristic. I have the impression that they wanted to villainize other characters in order to make the audience pity Ayato and be like “No, my poor baby! You’re too good for this game!” or stuff like that. 

They also gave him two other major roles in LE to demonstrate what a good person/brother he is. In Laito's route, he helps his brother by filling up the place, checking on the Demon World for him, and occasionally looking after Yui. Then, in Kino's route, he sort of becomes Yui's lover and sacrifices himself for her, being burned alive by Kino. After Yui is finally brainwashed, Ayato notices that she has begun to like Kino and allows her to be with him. Excuse me, what—? That doesn't seem like something Ayato would do, especially since he becomes Yui's best friend and is the first to acknowledge Kino as his brother, despite the fact that he stole his woman, burned him alive, tortured him and planned to sell him to the church.

And guess what? After Lost Eden, Ayato's popularity skyrocketed in Japan, where he literally won first place in a contest held in the Rejet store and second place in the Chaos Lineage poll. Rejet's strategy appears to have been successful.

Rejet tones down other characters in order to make Ayato shine. We all know Rejet enjoys making Ayato act like a hero, which is fine until they start making other characters look bad, as I previously stated. There's a scene in Young Blood where Shu and Subaru openly admit that they only used Ayato as bait and had no plans to rescue him afterwards. So... are you going to tell me that little Shu and Subaru would actually do something like that? Because I have my doubts. As evidenced by the flashbacks, they were kind children. Once again, it seems that Rejet is forcing the Diaboys to mistreat him in order to make Ayato likeable. He mentions being an outcast at one point, which is clearly not true.

I respect Rejet's work and am grateful that they created DL, but I’m not okay with their obvious bias toward Ayato. They try everything to make him likeable, as if he's the most underrated character. He is literally the most popular Diaboy worldwide; there are people who recognize his face but have no clue about the games or anime. Ayato is already favored; he's on buildings and took part in Anime conventions alongside many well-known characters; there's no need to make him even more popular by giving him more positive traits. People used to like him a lot even in HDB and MB ://

[pansexual-puppy-pack]

@theoraekenapperciation 's theo week 2023: day 4: part of the pack

Of all the people in the McCall Pack, Theo hadn't expected Corey to be among the first people to have his back.

But here Corey was, sitting on the edge of Liam's bed, only five feet away from Theo, sprawled in its center. Liam and Mason were downstairs getting snacks. They had to get to a pack meeting in an hour.

"What's this?" Corey asked him, handing Theo his textbook. "3a."

Theo looked over the question, although it acted as more of a backdrop to his train of thought.

What remained of the once-feared chimera pack could fit on a double bed. A year ago, Theo would've rolled in his grave knowing that.

"It's c." Theo answered, handing the biology textbook back. "A and b refer to animals. D is close, but no cigar."

Corey stayed silent as he took notes. Theo took the opportunity to listen to his heartbeat.

Curious thing about Corey Bryant; his heart never seemed to stick to a consistent rhythm.

Since it never seemed to bring up any major issues, Theo never mentioned it. (He guessed it was part of his genetic chimera-isms. Probably a heart condition?)

Theo and Corey didn't talk to each other much after Theo was freed from the Skinwalker prison. Everytime he and Corey were in the same room, Corey's heartrate would skyrocket, his scent would spike, and he'd find some way to excuse himself. (But really, could anyone blame him?)

So what changed that made Corey so convinced tbat he could be good for the McCall Pack?

Theo asked himself this again when they arrived at the McCall household, when Liam and Corey started defending him in from of Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Malia.

"Are you really letting his happen, Corey?" Stiles asked, exasperated.

"Would you believe me if I said this was my idea?" Corey told him.

The conversation turned into an argument turned into a shouting match. Mason was standing off to the side. (Theo couldn't blame him.)

"He saved my life!" Liam yelled, halting the debate and silencing the room. Numerous hearts beated in Theo's ears, blood pumping with adrenaline and anger. "At least like, four times already! That's gotta be worth something."

Stiles bit his lip. Malia glared at Liam. Lydia pulled her lips into a thin line. Scott had that pained expression on his face when he wanted to say something someone else won't want to hear.

"You called him to help." Liam said, facing Scott. He pointed at Scott, then at Theo. "You. Called him. No one forced you to. No one asked you to. You made that choice. That means something, and I think you know what."

Scott stood silently in thought.

The rest of the room stayed that way, too, because they all knew that it was his opinion that mattered the most.

Scott looked up at Theo, who had been quiet the whole time. He didn't know how to defend himself like Liam did. "Theo?"

Theo pushed off the wall, meeting his gaze.

"What do you think?" Scott asked.

Theo looked at Liam and Corey before he answered. They gave him reassuring nods. "I think you already know what I want. Ghost Riders, remember?"

Scott nodded, approaching him with an outstretched hand.

Stiles threw his hands up in defeat behind him, Malia groaning and Lydia sighing in tandem. (Theo thought he heard Mason let out a relieved breath.)

"It's going to be a long, rocky ride." Scott said, placing his other hand on Theo's shoulder. "But I think you've proved yourself."

Theo nodded, copying his motion.

"There's gonna be more like this," Scott said lightly, nodding to a disgruntled Stiles, Lydia and Malia, who had all taken up space on the couch. "But trust me, they'll come around eventually."

Theo eyed his arm for a second before taking it and shaking.

"Welcome to the Pack, Theo." Scott said with a smile.

Liam cheered and high-fived Corey. Stiles and Malia let out matching swears. Lydia looked away.

Theo allowed himself a small smile. "Thanks for having me."

(p.s.: all days will be uploaded to ao3! days 1-3 (minus the artwork) are already up :))

[yanderegrizzsworld]

I feel like from that anons "Take on the Hedgehog Trio" analysis, Sonic would be completely laid back & normal til u "give him a reason not to be". Like he gets more worked up after u show him ur wanting to leave or something. I kinda think hes relaxed at first cuz u two are already dating & hes still an arrogant hero. I think hes also the only one who manages not to hurt u 😂 Silvers insecure & smothering. He is the type where u can take advantage of him easily but his temper & like u said, powers are still there. Hes also constantly stressed about his time & shows his frustrations more openly so I can imagine his paranoia & jealousy being pretty freaking high. Hed probably hurt u on complete accident by being an emotional mess with strong ass powers. I also feel like his intelligence should be higher. Ppl tend to think hes completely dumb cuz hes naive.. theres a difference. Shadow... just has no chill. His "stats" (as u call it) indicate hes the strictest & deadliest & I unfortunately agree with this one. This dude went thru a lot & made too many enemies tho he still works for GUN. U know how he was willing to kill (put down Mr. Tinker in the comics to protect Earth) a few times to accomplish his goals? I feel like hed get so stressed & angry on ur escape attempts hed hurt u. I dont think hed kill u cuz hed already make sure theres no one u can come to. The most aloof & distanced hedgehog is the most overbearing & overprotective of u. U unlucky asf lmao

Sonic is the most laid back of three, as the hero of Earth/Mobius not only does he have a sense of duty to ensure the safety of others but he also believes that at the end of the day, he's the only true victor in his battles.

In my opinion, none of them would hurt you intentionally, Silver would have the worst reaction when hurting you as he wears his heart on his sleeve. He'd be apologizing constantly & doing anything you ask of him even if you've long forgiven him & I agree with what you said of his intelligence & how others tend to think naive is similar or is a synonym to dumb. Like Knuckles, Silver is a lot smarter than what others give him credit for, is he naive? Yes. But that doesn't mean that he's dumb. First, remember that he comes form a dystopian apocalyptic future where he had little to no interaction with others beside Blaze & secondly, naive is the lack of (worldly) experience while dumb can mean either refraining/unable to speak or not having the ability to absorb ideas readily.

Shadow would be the deadliest yandere, not to y/n but towards others. This man has so much trauma which leads to him gaining enemies & this leads to his protectiveness to skyrocket. If he were to hurt you he'd apologize while tending the wound(s), he'd say that this wouldn't have happened if you'd just listen & not run off on your own. He's at a constant war with himself where, in one hand, he wants to keep a distance in fear of an enemy seeing you two & them using you against him while on the other hand, he's beyond touch-starved & wants nothing more than to lay on the couch/bed & snuggle into you feeling all his doubts & stress wash away in your presence. No matter who you get, with pros there is always cons with them.

But can you imagine the three being yanderes for you & teaming up, you'd never know peace again.

[onewomancitadel]

I have a small fear that if Jaune saves Cinder the hate he gets will skyrocket to new heights. I can already see people calling him a pathetic loser, a simp, and a weak doormat. Knightfall is a ship that combines the two most hated characters in the fandm so I'm slightly worried about it's reception. How do yo think Knightfall will be received by the fandm if it happened? Do you think the reaction will be positive or negative?

Hi anon, thanks for your ask.

My first impression reading this ask was that I think there's more going on here than worry about fiction and narrative. I think it's totally okay to recognise how that type of projected worry works (and perhaps even how to identify and work with it). There's nothing you can do to control other people and what they think (and life would be very boring if we could do that). It's also important to recognise that these people you're referencing are not people who necessarily share fundamental values with you; if someone would unironically use 'simp', I'd immediately dismiss their opinions wholesale.

I also don't think that in itself is viable criticism, and if the writers were looking for criticism, they would ignore that particular type. Whatever backlash by Redditors against Jaune's character didn't affect the storyline given to him in V5, or even V6, or into V8. We can already demonstrably see that doesn't matter. The same is equally true for Cinder.

I also think the fact that they went ahead with the Ozlem reveal in V6 and then also further committed to the Atlas Arc suggests to me that whilst there are points of criticism from the fandom they take on at times, they still have an idea of where they're going they're not going to turn away from. The Ozlem reveal in particular is pretty damning to people attached to the Huntsman Academy happy funtime premise.

It's very funny you said that Knightfall combines two hated characters in fandom. Personally, as a Cinder and Jaune fan since V1, I have seen a gradual shift in the way the two are perceived, especially after V8 with Cinder. So that's one thing.

Another thing is that, funnily enough, quite early on I said Knightfall was actually a pretty elegant solution to that fandom reception problem. I don't think they would intentionally write it that way, but I do think that Jaune and Cinder make a shit load of sense together that would give you different perspectives on them.

I also am not going to lie, I think some of the hatred towards Jaune and Cinder comes from a childish tantrum that Jaune wasn't the shounen protag they were promised and Cinder isn't the sexy, uncomplicated femme fatale they wanted. By the same stroke, that is exactly what makes their character arcs so compatible and what makes them intersecting make so much sense; the character archetypes they truly are, truly make the most sense together. I don't know how it would go for everyone, but I do think that once they intersect, people might start to see.

But if you go through my blog, like under the redemption arcs tag, you can see me talk about characters like Cinder that are harder to understand, and equally for the compassionate heroic figures in love with them.

I'm not quite sure what the complete context of this ask is - e.g. if you are a Knightfall fan, or just a Jaune fan worried about what would happen to him - but I think, if you are looking for advice, my advice to you would be to try to be part of space where the things you enjoy are taken seriously. If people are mean on Reddit or in Discord servers about the characters you like, you don't have to be around them (or you can just learn to ignore them and be steady in your own opinions. Me personally, I have to be away from those types).

You could start a Tumblr blog (if you don't already have one) or you could start your own R/WBY server for people with a similar attitude to you (I imagine a single character server wouldn't go on very long).

With that being said, let's say in the worst case scenario Knightfall is not received well. By the time it happens, if it happens at all, it's going to be towards the end of the show - which is around when the Relic of Choice will come into play. You can see more under my Indecisive Queen tag, or indeed referenced in my Knightfall masterpost, that them meeting over the Relic of Choice is at least one thing I expect to happen. Also, according to the Vault and Relic special worlds, the two surviving from the first Vault meeting at the last Relic makes the most sense.

So, if it makes you feel better, you've got time where it's not happening quite yet, at least in terms of canonical confirmation (and some people are still convinced Blake/Yang isn't a thing because there's been no kiss).

On the other hand, I think that if people don't understand that Jaune's Semblance is literally compassion as a superpower and that he's got a bigger purpose in the narrative (connected to Cinder) that makes perfect sense, their opinions are not really worth your time worrying about. If they don't understand the themes of the show and basic storytelling, how can you take what they're saying seriously? I try not to be so cynical, but there are a great deal many viewers - and here I'm not sure what it is about R/WBY that seems to attract some of them - that lack the tools to understand how stories work. Like, reading reviews recently that complain a story has conflict? That a protagonist needs something to drive her and something to overcome? I don't know what's exactly happened; to some degree I think it's just contrarianism.

The people you're thinking of calling him a - simp? This is the second time someone has said this about Jaune in an ask to me. What the fuck is going on? What is in the water? Like, I don't know want to know who might say this kind of stuff, but it's very silly. Anyway, I have no idea how a character exercising active agency in a story is a simp.

If someone thinks transgressing the boundaries of the side of Good with the villain everybody expects to be irredeemable and then also committing an act of effective heresy and then succeeding at the task of helping the woman the audience and the characters at large believed unable to be helped is somehow a doormat or a simp, then they're not criticising the narrative.

They're misogynists. I'm just going to say it. They don't know how to analyse narrative. Someone saying that, thinking a male character exercising nonviolence and helping a female character is 'simping' is just a misogynist, and probably not wanting to change their opinion because their defensiveness and victim complex has shrouded their worldview.

I don't think telling them they're being misogynistic will necessarily help; with those types, it never does, especially because misogynistic, in their eyes, is not a bad thing or something that would make them want to change their beliefs/behaviour.

But I do think pointing out they don't know how to criticise things properly is the thing I would do. Because they're not doing that. I don't mean to characterise one group a particular way, but that crowd always thinks their personal aggrieved feelings count as narrative criticism. It is very ironic when they call women emotional. it makes me laugh.

With that being said, I am not exposed to this end of the fandom anymore. I don't know whom you are referring to, and I hope it doesn't seem like I'm trying to stir trouble. But sometimes you have to recognise when something isn't an intellectual debate anymore and is something else instead.

Now, with that horrible shit out of the way:

How do yo think Knightfall will be received by the fandm if it happened? Do you think the reaction will be positive or negative?

I think I have talked about this before somewhere on my blog, and I have sort of already answered this throughout the ask, but I think the reaction will be complex. It does mystify me that basic, thematically sound narrative beats I saw coming (Ironwood's fall, Penny's death) were subject to such controversy. I don't mean whether you anticipated it or not is the problem - I mean the offense that was felt at the very notion of such story beats. So, as much as I think Knightfall makes sense, if it does happen, a lot of people are going to be surprised.

On the Tumblr end of fandom, I don't really see either Jaune or Cinder subject to virulent shipping; a lot of Cinder fans on here don't ship her with anyone, and generally prefer her not to have a romance or don't consider that in their interest. Jaune is usually second to a lot of Tumblr users' interests as well. So I think the reception here might not be as significant as people think. I anticipate a range of reactions, one of which will include writing a romance for Cinder somehow reduces her character because she shouldn't want for things for only herself or true love or anything, and probably some anti-redemption opinions which are nonsensical from the foundation and just people who don't like her, don't like vulnerability, and don't like complexity.

I don't know about the rest of the fandom. I avoid Reddit, Discord, etc. I used the subreddit from the first volume until five, but I quit when people were celebrating Cinder's 'death'.

Honestly, I think we might be mentally overblowing it.

The way I view it as well is that because we bring so much baggage to narrative, sometimes what we're arguing about isn't what we think we're arguing about. That's why the way I run my blog (which is often about interrogating my tastes or why I do or do not like things) is, well, the way I run my blog. I find it really fascinating, and with R/WBY in particular you can see this in an extreme fashion.

I do want to say though, twists that make sense in hindsight are some of the most fun. I think if you talked to the average R/WBY fan and said you shipped Jaune/Cinder, they would think you're a bit weird or someone who just reads fetish erotica (because Cinder's not a complicated character, of course). But if it did evolve onscreen, it wouldn't seem so strange; it's one of those things that might inspire confusion or revulsion at first, and then once you lay out the argument for it, it seems like the only way to realise everything thematically and narratively, and character-wise.

Because as I relentlessly do not shut the fuck up about: I think Jaune and Cinder are one of the major pairings (along with the others) that literally resolves the Ozlem conflict. Moreover, it resolves their own personal conflicts, realises the themes of the show, and it's very, very unique, and the kind of thing R/WBY does best. The clincher for me personally with Knightfall was when I realised it fits perfectly into R/WBY tonally, and it's the exact kind of thing I am into tonally.

Because I am in one of those moods, let me cite Campbell from Power of Myth, Episode 5:

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: What he was saying is that this love is bigger even than death, than pain, than anything. This is the affirmation of the pain of life in a big way.

BILL MOYERS: And I would choose this pain for love now, even though it might mean everlasting pain and damnation in hell.

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: That’s right.

[…]

BILL MOYERS: So there’s joy and pain in love.

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: Yeah, there is. Love, you might say, is the burning point of life, and since all life is sorrowful, so is love. And the stronger the love, the more that pain, but love bears all things.

Love itself is a pain, you might say, but is the pain of being truly alive.

Basically that's it. If you notice, the major R/WBY pairings go through major conflict and deal with major vulnerability and pain, that's what makes Blake/Yang what it is over Blake/Sun, and that's what makes Ren/Nora able to reveal their feelings for each other and see the truth. Part of this is Salem and Ozma's problem. That's why Ozma hides in V6.

This is why I think there's potentially something very major in Jaune and Cinder's favour. The thing people say makes it impossible is the thing I have - not to repeat myself - gone on record of saying the pain between them is the thing that makes absolution, healing, and, well, romance, possible.

Same citation as above, emphasis mine:

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: Right. That’s a very mysterious thing, that electric thing that happens. And then the agony that can follow, which is that which the troubadours celebrate, you know, the agony of the love, the sickness that the doctors cannot cure; the wounds that can be healed only by the weapon that delivered the wound. […]

Well, the wound is the wound of my passion and agony of love for this creature, and the only one who can heal me is the one who delivered the blow, you know.

BILL MOYERS: So we often hurt most the person we love, and heal the hurt by the love that hurt.

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: That’s something like that, that’s the paradox of the job.

Given R/WBY's major mythic influence, both from the monomyth (Campbell is the Hero's Journey, monomyth bloke) and from the mythic and religious traditions from whence the monomyth is derived, I think it's thematically appropriate to share. The Wound of Love also has a presence in Christian theology, which is relevant for a character based on a Catholic saint, and as a story that does use Christian themes (which I think personally it uses like many other influences, not as a predominant theme, but it is there) it is worth considering there's some type of precedent here to consider the Wound of Love.

But with that aside, I think you can still say that interaction of vulnerability and love is there. This is just how I would formally describe it.

Anyway, back to fandom reception: you might be surprised, who nose! I personally think Knightfall is a story beat that makes Jaune's ultimate purpose narrative very clear, and makes him very powerful in a transformative way - and the same for Cinder. But as I mentioned in this ask here, which I recommend reading, violence as narrative language is partly our issue here. To be quite honest, I think that this is actually a theme of Knightfall already, and already a facet of Jaune's character. I just take this to the logical conclusion in the story. If you were not supposed to kill Cinder in V5 and unlocked your magical Semblance whilst you were at it, then what?

Ultimately, I think that whether people respond to Knightfall positively is not really the thing I am personally concerned about. Some people want a simple story and they want to leave a story with fluffy feelings or justified feelings. They want something that leaves them feeling like evil has been defeated and killed and they want it in a familiar way. But I think that the question more pertinent to me is what's thematically appropriate and what is a story like R/WBY trying to do. Even if I didn't agree with R/WBY I would still want it to tell the story it's supposed to do. A lot of people can't sit with discomfort with a story or understand what does and doesn't work for them.

I also intellectually respect a story much more if it commits to its ideas.

At the end of the day I think Knightfall is the organic conclusion of what they've established. A lot of people in fandom do not understand what they've established, and in some ways I think that's the show's fault and in some ways I don't think it is - and is a totally separate post.

As always, I think you just need to find your bliss. If you're a Jaune fan and you're worried, just remember that you enjoy Jaune's character and you understand him in a way some others don't. (I am also a Jaune fan, as is obvious). It might be a fun exercise for you to figure out what compels you about him. If you are a Knightfall fan, I think you may have to get used to narrative and fandom uncertainty. (;

With asks like these, and even by myself actually, I often wonder what's the point of reading or watching stories. It should move you. Are you moved?

[youareunbearable]

okay look I know I said Fingon earns the epithet The Valiant 'cause he's bold enough to approach omega Mae in heat as a joke but now I can't help but obsess slightly over the idea alphas tend to avoid Mae when he's in heat bc he's Big and Tall and Very Deadly, you can't help but keep those things in mind when he's That Cranky, and yet! there Fingon goes sauntering up charming as you please and gets slung over Mae's shoulder like a caught deer and dragged to a private corner every time. king shit

AAKJFHAKFHAF LISTEN IM THRIVING YES THIS IS WHAT I WANT IN MY ASKBOX!!! ok so i laughed when i saw ur reply and have been world building around just that idea lmaooo

Like Mae HAS to be gorg in every au in Valinor, so I picture him as something ppl view as like, the IDEAL omega: beautiful, great at taking care of children, good at minding a House, able to make political connections/small talk, smart, strong, from a good family, able to protect kids/loved ones, tall, etc.

But like, the more "violent" traits were less desirable with elves when they got to Valinor, for why would an Omega need to be able to fight and protect their family from the Dark Hunter if Valinor is peaceful? and as a second gen elf born in Valinor, the traits that makes Mae the Perfect Ideal Omega for the older generations makes those of his generation hesitate to approach. A beautiful deadly creature to be admired from afar, yet a flee on sight once he gets close.

It makes dating hard, it doesn't help that Feanor makes for a crazy and intense in-law.

I like to think that Mae had one heat partner before Fingon. Fingon might not have started his ruts or whatever at this point (because there is the age gap) but like he would have been so close that Mae might have been a little confused/cautious if hes a pup or not (he decides on pup and Fingon is Vibrating with "please god pick me" energy and hes a little heartbroken at being dismissed. Cue plan "Become the most Alpha to ever Alpha ever"). Anyways, Fingon sees Mae fight/test this alpha to see if hes strong/worthy to spend his heat with him/maybe bond?? before he is whisked away by someone else for safety and he saw the aftermath. The cuts and scratches, the brusies, the bitemarks, how exhausted the Alpha was after and vowed right there to Be Better for Mae. Others saw the aftermath too and no matter how much that alpha said how pleased he was about being chosen, no sex is good enough to risk disfiguration with scars.

This is where Fingon comes in. When Mae has another Heat and is prowling around Formenos (not exiled yet but its away from the city and easier on the Omega territorial instincts and there is less of an alpha/beta population to terrorize) protecting His family and he catches the scent of Alpha on the wind and hunts him down. The alpha is shorter than him, but strong, and no matter how much force Mae puts into his attacks the alpha doesn't back down until Mae feels content and allows himself to be pinned by the alpha and expose his neck. The scent goes from Alpha to Fingon and Mae feels his heart swell that the alpha that is perfect for him is the one he loves already.

And then thats it. I like to think they formed a marriage bond/mating bond or whatever, but even if they dont then i can see them still spending Mae's heats together in Beleriand.

I also think that other races are more "traditional" with Omega heats than the elves. Like men have i feel like the classic ABO society. Hobbits have much more Omegas and Betas than Alphas, so their society views Omegas as people who typically have positions of power more so than other races. Dwarves have low numbers of Omegas and women, however they value the idea of Omegas and women as protectors of the home, so they are still taught to fight even if they don't really leave the mountians. They are prized, so many are very honoured and hold high positions that impact the home/doesn't involve a lot/any of travel. The Dwarves opinion of Mae skyrocketed not only after he saved their king but also defended Himring to such an incredible degree during the Battle of Sudden Flame. Ideal Omega in their eyes and was huge when helping build his Alliance

[katoptron-katophlegon]

Assorted AC6 thoughts now that enough time has elapsed for me to write down coherent stuff and I had time to reflect on it a bit. Will be very disorganized because otherwise I wouldn't be able to write anything

Ok this game has skyrocketed into the top 5 favorite games ever for me, and also one of the best games I've ever played objectively. I already felt like this after finishing it just once but the subsequent playthroughs cemented this even more. It's like everything I love about the AC series amplified by 100. They put crack in this thing. Also (though this goes in general for the AC series) I'm very glad to have found a Fromsoft series to get attached to, because I've always loved their way of making games but I could never find anything that really kept me all the way till the end of the game.

Favorite things about this game were the story and characters hands down. I'm the type of guy who plays games for these two things, I don't really care for gameplay even if it's doo doo ass it won't influence my rating of the game much (though this game's gameplay was INSANE good of course. I'm fucking addicted to it) I value pieces of media for their ability to make me feel REALLY strong emotions (which doesn't actually happen often), and I can say with great confidence that rarely has anything ever made me feel as strongly as this game. Probably only Extella and some parts of FGO. I don't remember ever having to take so many and so long pauses simply because I had to emotionally prepare to continue or actually ponder decisions to take. I'm usually very quick to make decisions and just say "fuck it we ball" even in what are supposed to be emotionally charged moments lol.

My list of endings going by enjoyment would be LoR > FoR > AIE. It's hard to explain because I think all 3 endings were more or less equally well-executed, all 3 of them made me feel the equivalent of emotion I feel throughout an entire year, but what makes the difference are the types of emotions and themes. It all comes down to very personal tastes. AIE genuinely gave me an existential crisis and made me go "good lord what have I done" (yes even more than FoR) and was the hardest one to go through emotionally, because it touched on topics I have very strong opinions on and to complete it I basically had to go against all my ideals and what I would normally choose to do. All of this discomfort was more than made up for by Iguazu though. Honestly I'll just talk properly about him and the other characters in other posts when I feel insane enough because otherwise this post would be 3km long

FoR had my favorite mission in the game, Breach the Karman line. Which was honestly one of the highest moments in gaming in my experience. The setting in (near) space, the unlimited energy, the callbacks to the Old King route from 4A, and the Rusty boss fight. Goddddd how did they fucking DO THAT how did they engineer Rusty to be the perfect character for me. And the insane HAUNTING feeling finishing this route gives you. A tragedy of your own creation. The monster who burned the stars.

LoR is the ending I felt less conflicted choosing, even though killing Carla and Chatty killed a part of my soul as well, and I felt like the Destroy the Drive Block mission was a reward for having the courage of choosing this route. Rusty helping you (he was the first one to answer the call.... what are we......) and complimenting you, getting to feel like a real hero, a real Raven... Someone who uses their means to be a champion of free will and freedom. And then the fight with Walter. Him being the final boss was a mix of being caught completely off guard, but also expecting it. I remember thinking "what if Walter is the final boss... No, couldn't be, he's gone". I was honestly terrified of him just blowing up in our face because of what we had done but this was the first step of me realizing that the character I had created in my head, and had been bracing myself for the entire game ("ok this is it, he's gonna get PISSED and show his true nasty self") simply didn't exist. I had been wrong the entire time. Walter means THE WORLD to me and I could (and WILL) write like 50 pages about him.

Likely forgot something and my concentration is already going to shit, but also I don't want to make this post longer than it already is so like. I'll leave the thoughts about the characters and whatever else comes to mind for some other time. If this game doesn't win GOTY I'll become the joker. Also I'm petty saying this because I actually like BG3 but AC6 made me feel more in the 56 hours it took me to finish than BG3 did in the 200+ hours I've already put into it lol.

Random screenshot of my favorite scene.

[rogersevans]

Enchanted

Summary: You didn’t expect filling in for your colleague would have the most successful man in Boston besotted with you. 

18+ Content, Minors DNI: mafia!chris, ceo!chris, swearing, not much in this part, but there will be future smut/x-rated scenes.

author’s notes: so, i started this with an idea in mind and then somehow along the way it veered off and grew a mind of its own. how they meet is very much fifty shades of grey like (i’ve only ever read the books), but that’s not how it ends. this is also my first try at this type of trope, did a lot of research for it, but let me know of any mistakes. i’m not sure how many parts this will be. 

masterlist

“Great,” you muttered under your breath as you wiped at the evident coffee stain now covering your once pristine, crisp white blouse. You were impatiently waiting for the elevator when a mailman came rushing around the corner, not looking where he was going and collided with you, causing the scorching coffee to spill over you. 

The ding of the elevator distracted you momentarily from the hideous stain as you stepped in, thankful that you were the only one using it. You’d only been in the building for five minutes and you were already regretting taking over the assignment from your colleague, who had continently fallen ill at the last minute. 

You glanced over the buttons, trying to remember the floor number you needed. Taking your phone out of your bag you opened your emails and began searching for the email from your colleague, giving you vague information about the client and location.

Interview : Chris Evans @ 13:30PM

You knew that name, everyone in Boston knew that name. He was the man that started from nothing and within two years his business had skyrocketed, owning majority of the clubs, restaurants and properties within the Boston area. Everyone had their suspicions of how he rose to fame and fortune and this is something he was asked about, constantly. But he would always shake it off with that charming smile, simply shrug his shoulders and talk about timing or fate. 

Underworld activities was your guess. One you didn’t shy away from when asked your opinion. You had a tendency to be very opinionated, you’d be a crappy journalist if you weren’t. 

Floor 13. He's witty, charming and knows how evade the tough questions. We’re interviewing him for our “50 Under 50″ piece, I’ve attached the base questions we’ve been advised to ask him, sent over by his personal assistant.

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, of course he’s found a way to have control of the interview. Guys like him always did. 

“Hold the door!” You heard a deep voice shout from the lobby, making you up glance up from your phone, hitting the button to hold the doors. A large hand just caught the doors in time despite you trying to hold it, making them pull open, revealing a tall and handsome man. His blue eyes were the first thing you noticed, the sliver of green causing them to twinkle under the warm fluorescent lighting. But his beard was the biggest giveaway as to whom it was, the dark hair hugged his chiseled jaw in the best way. It had become a favourite of the ladies in your office. The buzz of this interview had been a big deal. 

Chris Evans. 

“I tried to stop them, honest.” You pleaded, with a coy smile. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it. What floor?” He asked flashing a dazzling smile that made your cheeks tinge a deep shade of crimson. 

“Uh, your floor actually.” You watched his brows shoot up, causing lines to form on his forehead. “That sounded less creepier in my head. I promise I’m not a stalker. I have an appointment, at half one. I’m from-” You didn’t know why you were rambling to the gorgeous man in the crisp, navy blue suit, but you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“You’re from Boston Globe Media.” He stated, his eyes flitting down to the offensive stain on your shirt, before flicking back up to meet yours. “I’m Chris.” He held his hand out for you to take, flashing you his perfectly white teeth. “Coffee accident?” He nodded to your shirt, but kept his eyes on yours.

“Yeah, mailman ran me over. Or fate saw an opportunity.” You muttered the last part before taking his hand and giving it a shake, telling him your name. His touch was warm, his skin was soft and his scent was intoxicating. You watched his lips move as he repeated your name in a whisper, making your eyes narrow slightly but before you could question him on it the doors opened signalling that you'd arrived at his floor.

“Shall we?” There was that damned smile again, but this time it came with a new feeling, a warm feeling that bloomed in your stomach and something resembling butterflies erupted, leaving you speechless. 

With a curt nod you followed him across the room, the office falling silent at the sight of him. You watched how everyone moved back to their desks quickly, heads down. He ran a tight ship. 

“Give me two seconds.” He motioned for you to sit in one of the two chairs outside his office. “Just gotta make a quick call.” Was all he said before disappearing into his office, shutting the door swiftly behind him. 

The office chatter picked up again when he was out of sight, his personal assistant giving you the side eye as she typed away on her computer. 

Eyeing the fucking stain. 

“Coffee mishap.” You informed her, your mouth moving with a mind of its own. “Mailman ran into me.” You awkwardly continued, before demonstrating the events with the coffee only to be met with a small huff. 

“Mr Evans, will see you now.” She spoke in a formal tone. “I hope you read the questions before hand.” She said in a condescending tone, making you role your eyes as you stood. 

“Those questions, and those questions only. Got it.” You bit back before giving her your best bitchy smile, pushing the door open and stepping in.

“I’m sorry about that, business never stops.” He charmed, making his way over to you and reaching behind you to close the door. “Please, have a seat.” His large hand finding the small of your back, guiding you. 

He was charming, you’d give him that. 

“So, Mr Evans...” You started once you sat, pulling out your notepad and pen and crossing one leg over the other. 

“Would you like a drink?” He offered.

“No, thank you.” 

“Let me know if that changes, I’ll get that sorted for you.” He gave you a wink, leaning back in his chair. 

“Anyway,” you pushed on, ignoring that stupid feeling in your belly. “You’ve been quite the talk of the town over the past couple of years. Starting with nothing but $20 in your back pocket. But you’ve managed to build one of the wealthiest empires in the state.” Chris couldn’t hold back his prideful smirk, silently agreeing with you. Impressed that you’d done the research considering the last minute change. Chris has a habit of remembering everything, an eidetic memory, and he didn’t remember your name on the email from his assistant. “Which is why I’m here today. You’ve made it to Number 1 on our 50 Under 50.” 

“Your work with charities such as Christopher's Haven and Animal Rescue League of Boston have really made you stand out above the crowd. Some may say your charitable work is what made you the man you are today,”

“You don’t?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his desk. 

“Excuse me?” You replied, confused. Your eyes narrowing in on him slightly and your brows knitting together. 

“You don’t think my charity work is what got me here?” He pressed, his brows rising up in question. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think-”

“I think if you’re going to write an article about me it most definitely does matter what you think.” He watched you look down at your notes, flicking between he pages before looking back up at him. You were getting flustered. “Those questions were created by my assistant, not me. I’m asking you, so humour me. Please.” He added, noticing how your shoulders relaxed a little. 

“I- uh- well-” taking a deep breath through your nose you forced yourself to relax, dropping your pen in your notebook before meeting his amused expression. “I don’t.” Where you really about to do this? Question one of the most powerful men in Boston? Question his links to the mafia? Yes. “I believe you’ve gotten your success elsewhere.” Your stomach was currently summersaulting and twisting, your inner monologue praying to the God’s that you didn’t end up in the docks, sleeping with the fishes. Your hands trembling as you fiddled with the pen resting on your lap. 

“Oh? And where’s that, sweetheart?” He was testing you, seeing if you had the balls to actually say it. You watched as his jaw set, swallowing slowly.

“You know my name Mr Evans, I prefer you use it. Those demeaning names might work on your female colleagues here, but they don’t work on me.” You sternly spoke, not knowing where the surge of confidence came from. 

Chris was shocked, no one ever stood up to him. Had you just told him off?

“Now. I believe that whilst your charity work has paid off in the long run. I think you’re using it as a buffer.” You spoke with such certainty, your voice clear. 

“A buffer?” He repeated, impressed with your tenacity. He wouldn’t normally indulge these types of questions or rumours during interviews, but he found himself intrigued by you. How you held yourself in conversation sparked something in him. Most women usually turned to bumbling and fumbling messes around him. “Hmm..” He trailed off, scratching his chin before waving his hand for you to continue. 

“Well, I believe that you’re involved in underground activities. Dealings with criminals and the mafia families.” Now that you were saying this out loud to Chris, you felt stupid. 

“You do, huh?” He watched you nod slowly, your eyes flicking everywhere except from him. “I’m over here,” his index finger tapping his desk lightly to bring you back. The way he purred your name sent a shiver down your spine. “Your evidence?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. 

Evidence? Fuck. How were you drawing a blank right now? Evidence. Evidence. Evidence. You repeated over and over in your head, trying to rack your brain. 

“If you need a minute...” He smirked at you, practically watching the cogs turn inside your head and the steam coming out of your ears. 

“That won’t be necessary.” You snapped before regaining composure quickly, something that if Chris blinked, he would’ve missed. “I believe your connections to the Mackie family is enough evidence, not to mention your connection with the Stan’s which dates back almost 25 years. Who are widely known for their criminal-”

“Myself, Mr Mackie and Mr Stan are great friends, they’re practically family. Surely your research tells you that.” You clocked how his nostrils started to flare, the only sign of irritation he gave. 

“It does. Friendships explain a lot of things Mr Evans. But one thing they don’t explain is the business deals that go on behind closed doors. I hear that Mr Stan is very invested in your company.” You quipped, putting emphasis on the words to make your point. 

You both sat in silence as you stared one another down, the glimmer of green dancing around his blue orbs as his licked his lips and shook his head slightly and shuffling in his seat, you were making him uncomfortable. 

“Now we’ve discussed my opinions, would you like to return to the scheduled questions?” You asked sweetly, coking your head to the side slightly. The only sound was your pen tapping lightly at your note pad.

“My office. Now.” Your boss demanded, her expression hard and stone like. The exact opposite of the soft and warm one she always displayed. Not giving you much of a choice to refuse before turning on her heels and marching back to her office, leaving her door open.

“What’d you do?” Janie asked, her head popping over the divider that separated your desks. 

“Only one way to find out.” You grumbled, locking your computer before pushing yourself up and heading towards her office, ignoring the stares of everyone else. 

It took a lot to piss off your boss, normally a level-headed and calm person. Always soft spoken. You tried thinking back on your work week, it was now Friday and you couldn’t think of anything you’d done that would’ve pissed her off. 

“Sit.” She demanded when you closed the door, pointing her perfectly manicured index finger to the seat across from her desk. 

“Everything alright?” You asked nervously as you took a seat, playing with the sleeves of your jumper. 

“You tell me.” Was all she said before turning the screen of her computer to face you, it displayed the first draft of your article on Chris. “Want to explain to me why you diverted away from the questions? Or why I had a phone call from Mr Evans this morning demanding an explanation as to why my journalist felt it appropriate to pry into his personal business? Asking about his relations to families such as the Mackie’s and the Stan’s.” Her tone was short.

Oh was she pissed.

“Excuse me?” Was she serious right now? Was he serious? He'd pushed you during the interview to tell him the truth. Your blood starting to boil and anger starting to rush through your veins. “Mr Evans insisted that we go off topic, I was more than happy to continue with the provided questions.”

“You expect me to believe that he initiated the topic of conversation about his connections to the underground world?” She sounded incredulous as she spoke, shaking her head before clicking her tongue. 

“Yes. He pushed me- encouraged me even, into giving an answer. He asked for my opinion-”

“So you lie!” She shouted, causing her assistant to flinch on the other side of the windowed wall. She did have a point there. You could’ve lied, but that isn’t who you are. “We don’t need someone as powerful as him putting in complaints.” You snort of laughter caused her jaw to tick in anger as she raised her perfectly groomed brows. 

“I’m sorry, not once during our conversation did he express any issues with my questions or opinions. In fact, he found my theories amusing.” You reasoned, you weren’t going down without a fight. He had no right to push you for an answer and then make a compliant to your boss about it three days later. You were beyond irked, your body began to tremble with anger. Your last nerve dangling by a thread. 

“Well, I hope you find suspension amusing.” She watched your jaw drop, pleased to render you speechless for once. You and your boss had always gotten along without a hitch. But sometimes you needed reining in and she was a tad smug to be the one to do it. “Two weeks. Get out.” She nodded towards her office door, before returning her gaze back to her computer screen. 

Your last nerve was well and truly plucked, you were seeing red as you stomped out of her office to gather your things. Never in your professional life had you ever been suspended. It was embarrassing to have the entire office watch you pack your things, their eyes following you to the elevator. Janie giving you a sympathetic smile, pointing to her phone signalling that she’ll ring you later. 

Once you reached your car you couldn’t stop the scream of frustration that rippled through your throat, kicking the wheel of your car and instantly regretting it when you felt the pain surge through your foot and up your leg, causing you to hiss out in pain. 

“Mr Evans, that reporter from Boston Globe Media is on the phone.” Maria, his assistant, spoke through the intercom. “Demanding to speak to you, something about a phone call with her boss. I can tell her you’re in a meeting-”

“No need Maria.” Chris couldn’t stop the grin that tugged the corners of his mouth upwards. “I’ve been expecting her phone call. Pop her through.” 

After you left you'd been on Chris’s mind non-stop. It didn’t take him long to dig into you and your life, he remembers the confused look on Jensen’s face when he decided to sit with him. Something he never does when enlisting the help of Jake, he would normally give the name and wait for his call. But Chris couldn’t stop the niggle of curiosity that had been bugging him. 

In the last three days he’d learnt that you had an apartment in the city, you’d been born and raised in Boston by your parents, who had divorced when you were 20. He knew what you studied at college. What gym you frequented. Anything available to Jake, he knew. 

You’d piqued his interest and he found himself looking for an excuse to speak to you again. To him, you were breathtakingly beautiful. A breath of fresh air. He found himself craving you at night, wondering what it felt like to hold you. You’d only spent an hour in his company and he felt like he needed more of you. 

The purr of your name came through the speaker of your car, his velvety voice calming you instantly. “How can I help you?” 

“You’re joking right?!” You scoffed, the irritation bubbling back up, your knuckles turning white as your grip tightened against the steering wheel. “My boss suspended me because you put in a complaint.”

“I did.” He hummed in response, leaning back in his chair. 

“If you felt uncomfortable with my opinions Mr Evans-”

“Call me Chris.” He demanded in a soft tone, irking you more.

“Why didn’t you say something? Or inform me that it was all off the record? I didn’t see you having a problem with our conversation at the time, Mr Evans.” You spat through the speaker. 

Oh that pissed him off, and he knew you were doing it to pluck a nerve. 

“I entertained your theories, sweetheart.” Two could play this game. “That still doesn’t give you the right to write about them. I don’t remember giving my consent.” 

There was the fucking nickname again. You weren’t his sweetheart, nor were you going to be. How did he even get a copy of your draft? 

“It seems you need to refresh yourself on journalism etiquette, I’m sure those two weeks of suspension will be the perfect opportunity.” He chided, smirking when he heard you huff through the phone. He had to admit, the reaction you were giving him he found incredibly sexy. You didn’t care who he was or what he was capable of, knowing of his connections and yet here you were, cursing him out and attempting to put him in place. Something no woman has ever done. Except his mother, but Lisa Evans was a force to be reckoned with. Something told him you and her would get on well together. 

“It also seems that you’re now free for the next to weeks,” he started. “I’d like to take you out.” He confidently stated, taking a sip of his coffee.

What the fuck? Was he being serious? Did he actually want to take you out on a date after getting you suspended? Does he know women, at all? You couldn’t help but stare at the screen in your car, shocked. 

“On a date or with a rifle? Because right now, the rifle sounds more enticing.” Your dry reply had him spluttering on his coffee, spilling it on his tie. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, grabbing some tissues to clean his tie. 

“You do realise you got me suspended from work? I’m in shit up to my eyeballs with my boss because you got your Calvin’s in a twist, and you think I want to go out on a date with you? You’re ridiculous.” A part of you was disappointed with your answer, the part that couldn’t help but swoon when he smiled or fill your belly up with butterflies every time he purred your name. Did he always have to say it like that? In that raspy tone, like there was meaning and endearment behind it. 

“Think about it, sweetheart.” He cooed into the phone, not phased one bit by your rejection. “I’ll be waiting.” Were the last words he spoke before ending the call. 

Chris Evans always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. 

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”