#asks (thaly)

[blxdc]

Send me a ♫ and I will give you a song that reminds me of your character.

[commanderthalys]

Wilson reaches into the box and pulls something out. She carefully lays it on the ground.

It is a "Box with colorful pills. (The label says "Grow your own Dino Friend")"

Wilson: "How can you grow a Dino? Put it in Water,... huh weird." (@wilsons-journey)

Thalys grabs the box, curious on how it would be possible to take such a tiny pill and have it grow into a raptor. Eager to try it, she grabbed the box and ran off to find the nearest lake.

“They’re going to need some space once they grow! A cup will be too tight!”

She this to to herself as she gently took each pill and placed it in a small pond. She patiently waited for the promise of dinosaurs, eventually falling asleep on the edge of the pond. She woke up a few hours later, excited to see what exciting raptor breeds would greet her, only to find several small dinosaur shaped foam pieces floating in the pond. She gathered the sopping wet dinos up and headed back home, a bit disappointed that no real beasts came from the pills.

“I guess that does make more sense than a real dinosaur. These are still pretty cute though.”

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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[edxnian]

Okay, whew--all drafts are done! I do still have a few asks to get done, but that's some good progress. I'll probably be lurking.

[hxttrick-archived]

“ you. i’ll always and endlessly fight for you. “ - :eyes:

emotionally intense prompts.

Words couldn't express how delightful he was. Only meant for her and her alone, a charming smile stretches upon his lips. He takes necessary steps to approach her, callous hands extending to grab one of her's. He gingerly clasps her's in between them; his hazel browns pooled with tender affection. "And I for you, your highness," he replied. "As long as I don't lose you too soon..."

[silens-oro]

Thalia in her toddler moodiness starts 'gardening' but she just plants her snacks and other miscellanous items and gets so pissed when her parents try to redirect her (try to get her to plant actual seedlings), cut to Pope gardening at night (when she's sleeping) digging up her item and planting an actual plant while Hawk laughes and watches him.

I see Pope making a little patch next to the established garden that has a little ‘Thalia’s Garden’ Winnie the Pooh style sign he helped her make one day while Hawk was at the shop. It’s the same corner Hawk gave to J when he was Thalia’s age and he loved to dig in the dirt and bury his toys just like Thalia did. The patch had been repurposed as J grew older and no longer used it, but the second Thalia showed interest, Hawk knew she had to dig the area back out.

🌙🌙🌙🌙

Pope was watching Thalia from the chair he moved over to just outside her patch so he could watch her when she was out there ‘gardening’. His jaw dropped when she pulled out a corner of the turkey sandwich she had at lunch from the front pouch pocket of her overalls.

“Thali?” Pope gently called to his daughter.

“Yes, daddy?” Thalia replied as she dug her hole with her play spade to a depth she seemed happy with, mimicking what she had seen her mother and father do. Thalia dragged out the two syllables in ‘daddy’ in a way that made Pope grin to himself every time he heard it, and he’d never get tired of it.

“Is that your lunch?” Thalia turned, smiling in a way that in her four years on this planet, Pope only knew it as Thalia’s troublemaking smile. Her eyes squinted and her lips tightened as they tilted upwards in an over exaggerated way.

“Maybe.” She dragged out the syllables again coyly. Pope sighed, leaning forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his thighs.

“You told me you finished all of your lunch, Thali. You know mommy and I don’t like it when you lie.”

“I don’t lie to you, daddy. I dropped this one and couldn’t eat it.” She said as she tossed the corner of her turkey sandwich in the ground before covering it with her plastic spade. “I eat the rest.” Thalia stood, wiping her hands on her gardening overalls and looked at Pope, who only leveled her with a raised brow and a slight tilt to his mouth.

“You dropped it?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Just like you dropped the goldfish you planted yesterday?” Thalia giggled, spinning around so he couldn’t see her very obvious lying tell -her smile. If Thalia was telling the truth, Pope and Hawk learned very quickly that she was just as serious as Pope was, but when she told her little silly white lies? That was all Hawk. Thalia and her mother folded under pressure and couldn’t lie to save their lives.

“Why don’t you plant some flowers? You’re not going to grow a turkey sandwich tree from that.” Thalia threw her father a nasty look, one he knew had come directly from his genes like it was a straight copy and paste.

“It’s for the worms!” Thalia’s words were as indignant as a four year old could muster x like he should’ve known.

“The goldfish too?” She nodded, ‘duh’ not needing to be said, but Pope got the gist. “Why are you feeding the worms?”

“Mommy said they’re good for dirt and mommy is never wrong.” Ain’t that the truth, Pope thought to himself.

“You know what else is good for the dirt?” Pope asked conspiratorially, beckoning Thalia to come closer. She held her hands together up at her chest as she took small steps forward to hear him. “Little girls who lie to their dads about eating all their lunch.” Thalia squealed, running towards the house as fast as she could with Pope chasing after her.

“You wouldn’t be running if you told the truth!” Her giggles trailed off as she flew into the house.

++++++

“You know that this is only going to encourage her to keep doing this?” Hawk caught Pope as he was coming inside from the back yard. The easy smirk she had on her lips made him drop his head with a chuckle as he quietly closed the slider to the back porch. Hawk was leaning up against the island in the kitchen in her pajamas and silky robe, arms crossed over her chest. Hawk and Pope were both in bed for the night when he decided to do his midnight gardening and it absolutely tickled Hawk.

“She can’t just bury her lunch out there. We’re gonna get raccoons. Or worse.” Pope reasoned as he held his hands out in front of him as he walked over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

“J buried some stuff out there when he was like four. Pretty sure there are some chicken bones and a Batman figurine still out there somewhere.” Hawk pushed herself off the island and walked over to Pope, wrapping her arms around his waist so she could smush her face into his back. He turned in her hold partially as he turned the tap off and she saw the grossed out face he made.

“Chicken bones?”

“The kid loved chicken legs. That’s all he would eat for like four solid months when he was six. Not really supposed to give the worms meat, but c'est la vie or whatever the hell a worm would say.”

“She’s obsessed with the worms, Hawk. It makes my skin crawl.” Hawk chucked against him, knowing he detested anything that wasn’t tidy, clean. He didn’t mind gardening because he could use gloves, but dirt and worms in general? And seeing his own kid loved to play with the dirt and the worms with her bare hands? Pope shook his head at the thought as he dried his hands.

Pope turned in Hawk’s hold, pulling Hawk to his chest as he played with the ends of her hair.

“What did you end up putting out there?” Hawk leaned forward to kiss Pope softly. He groaned, tightening his hold on her, his hands trying to feel her through the soft silk of her robe.

“Some zinnias you had started in the garage. I hope you don’t mind.” He mumbled against her lips.

“She’s gonna be so mad when she sees them.” Hawk chuckled against him, her lips meeting his once more.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

IPKKND OS: Unworthy

Word Count: 2,315. Genre: Angst Pairing: Arnav x Khushi

Khushi swayed on her knees, trying to get a grip on her life. Every time she tried to do something good, it spun into something worse.

The sky was clear, stars shining bright. Perhaps her parents were giving her some guidance. But tonight, she couldn’t look up.

Anjali's screams, her ability to kill her child out of shame, the monster that Shyam turned out to, the sham Khushi's marriage ended up being...

Because the only thing that made this marriage work was him. It was beyond her hands from the first day.

Her arms wrapped around herself tightly, not from the night chill - but to hold in the ache, the fury, the wreckage.

She was so angry on herself.

"Hey Devi Maiyya, I hope I don't regret this."

Khushi had known, known so deeply that she would come to regret not telling everyone about Shyam but she had feared. What if Anjali, upon knowing the truth on the day - killed herself?

Ever since Shyam entered their lives, she know any decision she would take would result in the worst outcome.

She had tried to take one that would hurt the less.

And now, after it all, she was lost in confusion.

The worst part wasn’t the kidnapping. Not the bruises on her arms or the long, sleepless nights that followed.

The worst part was Arnav’s eyes when he spoke. Before he turned away, before he left her.

It showed the truth. The truth he believed.

“Yes you are. You are responsible for everything.”

She didn’t cry. There was no need. His words had already etched deep enough to draw blood.

"You are the biggest mistake of my life."

She curled by the poolside, knees drawn to her chest. She could still smell his cologne in the air. The scent of him lingered like a memory that refused to fade - cruel and familiar. Her breath hitched once, twice - and then she slept.

She never heard Arnav return, regret heavy on his footsteps.

She did not hear him crouch by her, hands hovering mid air, hesitating before placing a blanket over her.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll talk to her.

But when he woke the next morning, she was gone.

And she wasn't the only one missing - Anjali was gone too.

Arnav had no time to check in on his throbbing headache, dipping sugar levels or the multiple bruises on his body.

He was going to lose his sister, again.

The house was in disarray. None of the Prakashes had seen her. Nani hadn’t either.

It was Manorama who stirred the storm,

“I saw phati sari near Anjali’s room before sunrise. Maybe she said something again. This is why these girls bring so much tension-”

Arnav didn’t wait to hear the rest. Panic rising, he went room to room, calling for both of them, checking the garden, the kitchen, the driveway.

Then he remembered - the temple.

He found them there, both wearing red sarees. Where Khushi found the strength to deck up two days after family trauma - was beyond him.

Anjali stood nearby, holding a diya, trying to light it with trembling fingers. Khushi reached out gently to help. When Anjali lifted the sindoor, Khushi’s hand caught her wrist - a silent, desperate plea.

And then Anjali, without a word, threw the sindoor pot away.

It shattered on the steps. Red powder splattered like blood.

The crowd gasped.

That was enough.

“What the hell are you doing here, Khushi?” he thundered.

She flinched but didn’t move.

She didn’t look up.

“I asked you something,” he growled again.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the thali. Her jaw set. But still, she said nothing.

He marched toward her, grabbed her arm, forced her to stand. She burned in humiliation as the priest stopped chanting and eyes turned toward her.

“I asked you something!” he roared again.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t look up. Her hands just gently pressed the thali to the stone, like it was her last anchor.

He gripped her arms, tight enough to leave a bruise as he demanded answers. Khushi fought to keep her tears at bay.

Her marriage was an open secret, but she felt the last shreds of dignity fade as everyone saw the marriage for what it was.

“Don’t you get it? You’ve been told a thousand times — stay the hell away from my sister!”

“Enough, Chhote.”

Anjali’s voice was soft but sharp as a blade. Her palm came to rest on his shoulder, steadying him - or maybe herself.

"Arnav ji, I-"

He silenced her with a glare.

Khushi’s eyes dropped to the temple floor, shame closing in like a noose.

He growled, “Why are you both here?”

Anjali met his gaze this time. Unwavering.

"It's Teej Chhote,"

He blinked.

She glanced back at Khushi, then met his eyes.

“We’re here for our husbands.”

She let the words settle like dust before adding, with devastating calm-

“For our unworthy husbands.”

Arnav went still.

Anjali let the diya fall into the tray and stepped down the temple steps. She paused beside Khushi, brushing a hand across her cheek - a gesture of forgiveness, of understanding. Then she walked past him, letting Mohan guide her back to her car.

When Anjali had watched Khushi, earlier that morning - whispering a prayer and apologies to Devi Maiyya, she knew.

She had seen Khushi fast in silence, fight her own hunger, her own hurt - not because of some tradition, but because love refused to die even when dignity did.

“Khushi, I-” Arnav turned to her but Khushi was already gone. Her steps light, her presence even lighter, as she disappeared into the morning crowd and into the nearest auto

Arnav stood among marigolds and burning incense, surrounded by prayers he never believed in - and wondered how a woman he had accused of ruining lives could still wish for his to be long.

Just how many more times could he make the same mistake?

Later that evening, Shantivan was tense.

Arnav came home to silence. No one said anything. Even Anjali had retreated into her room with her thaal and mangalsutra left by the temple.

"Anjali bitiya has accepted the truth," Nani started and brushed Arnav's hair, "now you accept it too, because if you cannot - you won't be able to forgive me either."

"What do you mean Nani?" Arnav asked, holding her frail hands.

"I am responsible for your mother's death." Nani whispered.

The minute Devyani knew of the affair, she knew she had to tell her daughter. With her mother by her side, Ratna wouldn't go and kill herself, right? She would have taken the support and love of her children to stay strong! And a man like Arvind couldn't be trusted when he begged Devyani to not tell Ratna about the affair!

But as one who was always fair, she decided to go and tell her daughter the truth!

"And we all know what happened after that. So I understand, I just know what Khushi and Payal bitiya mean when they say they kept it in to save the families. Yes, they could have been more right about it but there's no knowing, is there?" Devyani brushed away her grandson's tears.

She didn't realize how much him breaking down would break her old spirit.

Arnav hugged her, letting tears stream away.

It was too much.

After a moment her broke away, grimacing a little as his tear stung a wound. He signaled Hari Prakash to bring some tea.

"Anyways, uh... where's Akash?"

“Akash bitwa? He's at Payaliya's” she said. “She is keeping her fast too.”

Arnav blinked. “He went?”

Devyani nodded, sipping tea. “Quietly. Out of custom. And guilt." Arnav nodded.

"He'll come around Chhote, he always does. But will you?" Arnav looked up, surprised.

"Nani... I-"

"Chhote, I knew a man who promised to love a woman like none other. But he couldn't control his vices." Devyani sighed, "and you, can't control your anger. So either you act, or leave her."

"Na-"

"Please." Devyani held her grandson's hand, hoping there was some of her daughter in him.

Arnav left without another word.

-- -- --

The Gupta house was dimly lit. He stood outside the gate for longer than necessary, unsure if he deserved to enter.

Inside, Madhumati sat silently while Payal applied balm to Khushi’s forehead. Akash had left, promising to come back tomorrow.

Khushi hadn’t spoken much since she returned. Just asked to stay alone. But she refused to eat. She didn’t want the fast broken.

Garima looked aghast and ashamed. Neither girl spoke to their mother. Madhumati had cloth tied around her head to fend off another pending headache.

She knew Garima had pushed the girls into taking the wrong step. Except, post the Shyam fiasco, Madhumati lost confidence in her own decision making.

If only she had stood ground and told the family the truth they deserved to know.

And with Arnav not having showed up-

The door creaked.

Arnav stepped in.

Madhumati stared at him with the weight of a woman who had watched too much go wrong.

“She hasn’t eaten,” she said simply.

He didn’t look at her. He looked at Khushi - frail, pale, yet somehow glowing in the moonlight filtering through the window.

He knelt beside her. She looked at him, concerned, pleading, as the rest of her family peaked at them.

She knew what they were thinking. They were worried how Arnav would react. They knew he knew, and they knew he wasn't one to forgive. Would he forgive the Guptas? Would he take the anger out on Khushi? Why did Arnav marry her so quickly if he had known-had he?

"I'm sorry Buaji for arriving late, I must have you all worried-"

"Babua, we're so sorry, Khushi actually wanted-" Madhumati began, hoping for the best.

"Buaji please. I understand. I really do. If you don't mind, can I be here tonight?"

A weight lifted off Madhumati's shoulders. She rushed towards Arnav, hugging him tightly.

"Babua this is your home. Never ask ever, again. I'll set the table for both of you." Madhumati lightly kissed Khushi's head and left, giving the couple privacy.

"Thank you," Khushi whispered.

"I'm sorry," Arnav said, taking the balm from the side table and pressing it on her forehead.

"Arnav ji, they're gone-"

"I'm not doing this for appearances, I'm sorry." He worked his fingers on her temples. Khushi held his hand and pushed it aside, gently.

"Arn-"

“I didn’t come to break your fast,” he said quietly.

Her eyes shifted, barely meeting his. “Then why are you here?”

He swallowed. “Because... I don’t want to be the man you pray in spite of. I want to be someone you pray for.”

She looked away.

“I said things I can’t unsay.”

“I heard things I can’t unhear.”

The silence between them tightened, thick with every misstep they’d ever made. And his, always, outweighed hers.

"Khushi, I don't know where to begin-"

"Then don't." Khushi curled into the sofa, hiding her face in her dupatta.

And then she whispered: “Why does this feel like punishment?”

He shook his head, voice breaking. “Because we don’t know what to do with it. Because I don't know what to do with it.”

There was nothing grand about this confession. Just a man, tired of hurting the only person who made him feel human.

“Babua, here’s dinner.” Madhumati placed two plates on the table and quietly returned to her room, giving them space.

Khushi sat without moving. Her hands were folded in her lap, eyes on the rice that steamed gently in the thali.

“Khushi?” Arnav’s voice was soft now, almost careful. He reached toward the plate and gave her a spoon. She gingerly took a bite, and then took the plate and headed for the courtyard.

-- -- --

Later, when the house was still and the moon had shifted to its deepest silver, she came to find him by other side of the house. He was seated cross-legged on a bench, fingers turning something over slowly in his lap.

It was his thali.

Filled with food she hadn’t seen him eat.

Her breath caught.

“You… you didn’t eat?”

Arnav looked away.

“Why?”

He gave a dry, broken chuckle. “Because what’s the point of living long if I have to do it without you?”

Her throat tightened. "You don't believe in this..."

“You do. And maybe, if I can’t be a man worthy of love yet, I can be one who learns from it.”

He pulled a folded paper from his pocket. Set it gently on the table between them.

Divorce papers.

Signed.

Tears pricked her eyes.

“I told my lawyer to send these weeks ago,” he said. “I didn’t want to give them to you in anger.”

Khushi stared at the papers, then at him.

“I know someone,” he continued, voice low, “who apparently loved the woman he killed. I am ending up becoming like him, regardless. So you’re free, Khushi. Truly free.”

Arnav waited with bated breath, watching her take the papers in her hand, read its contents and place it back on the bench.

She looked down, slowly tearing a piece of roti from the plate beside her. She dipped it in the dal, hands trembling slightly, and lifted it to his mouth.

He didn’t resist.

He opened his mouth. Took it in.

And something shifted.

“I hope I live long enough,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “to argue with you.”

He blinked, startled. A small sound escaped him - something between a laugh and a choked breath.

“Because there are many, many things I still need to say to you.”

He looked at her like the world was giving him a second chance.

She reached for another bite.

And this time, her hands weren’t shaking.

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

A/N: This is a request of @pakki-ya-nahin that I'm fulfilling after five years. God & PyN - forgive me if you can darlin'. Tagging: @chutkiandchotte @dreaming-star @professor-cant-fuck @thedupattaknowswhatsup @bigfatreader @muttonthings @da-ka-ba @fresh-child-bouquet @hand-picked-star @fancydreamphilosopher @scorpio-smiles @thenainitaldisaster @titaliya @sankititaliya @sampigehoovu @jalebicheesecake @dnkkpi @nammy07

[krishna-sangini]

That Midnight (Pt.2)

The temple courtyard buzzed with excited squeals and soft giggles as the girls rose to their feet, anticipation shimmering in their eyes. They stood before the idol, some clutching puja ghantis, their hearts brimming with devotion. Their beloved Keshav gazed back at them, his flute poised as if he might play a divine tune at any moment, drawing them closer to his enchanting presence.

Manyataa carefully lifted the puja thali, her movements slow and reverent. “Ready, y’all?” she asked, her voice a gentle whisper as she glanced back. Her friends, eyes gleaming, nodded eagerly, their hearts beating in unison.

Turning back to face the idol, Manyataa began circling the thali with steady hands. As the sacred flames flickered, the girls' voices rose in unison, filling the temple with a melody that transcended time.

"कृष्ण, मनमोहना, मोरे कान्हा, मोरे कृष्ण..."

"कृष्ण, मनमोहना, मोरे प्रियवर, मोरे कृष्ण..."

The temple echoed with their devotion, the sound of the ghantis and the rhythmic claps of the girls weaving through the air, adding a scent of spiritual love to the moment. Love that knew no limit, love that transcended every boundary. Each note they sang was a prayer, each word a wish from the depths of their souls.

Manyataa set the thali aside, her heart swelling with emotion. She took a handful of flowers, and her friends followed, their hands trembling with the intensity of their devotion. Together, they showered the idol with fragrant petals, their faces glowing with pure, unfiltered joy. Tears welled up in their eyes, blurring their vision, but in that haze, only the idol remained vivid, alive. For a fleeting second, they wondered—had he moved?

“जैसी मन में छवि, तुम वैसे मोरे कृष्ण...”

Their voices cracked with emotion, yet they sang on, driven by a love that knew no bounds. Then, as if answering their call, a melodious flute joined their song, intertwining with their voices and the tinkle of the ghantis, elevating the moment to something beyond the earthly realm.

The girls froze in place, their voices silenced, eyes wide with disbelief. Tears streamed down their cheeks, but they made no move to wipe them away. This had to be a dream—a figment of their deepest desires—yet it felt so achingly real. Before each of them, in the soft glow of the temple mashaals, stood their beloved, their Kanha.

He was everything they had ever imagined Him to be. For some, He appeared as the naughty teen, a playful smile dancing on His lips, eyes twinkling with that familiar, endearing mischief. For others, He was the youthful lover, mature and serene yet still carrying a glint of divine playfulness that made their hearts flutter. And for some, He stood as the majestic King of Dwarka, resplendent in all His glory, His aura commanding reverence and awe.

Each girl saw Him just as she had always held Him in her heart, a perfect reflection of her soul’s deepest yearning. It was as if the divine had stepped out of their prayers, their dreams, their songs, and taken form before them—just as they had sung moments ago: “The way we picture you in our heart, you’re the exact same way.”

The girls stood in disbelief, some staggering back a step while some taking a step forward. The ethereal tune of the flute never left them. He stood before them, not as a distant deity but as the Kanha who knew them intimately, who had been with them all along. The veil between the divine and the mortal had lifted, and from that very moment, they were each alone, with nobody around them except their eternal love, their Krishna.

“Ke-Keshav… is it truly… you?” Baanhi’s voice quivered, barely a whisper, as her breath caught in her throat. Her hand instinctively flew to her lips as if to stifle the overwhelming emotions rising within her. The other reached out, trembling, toward the figure before her—her Keshav. But the temple had melted away, and in its place, they now stood by the riverbank. The cool breeze danced with the fragrance of blossoms, their petals strewn like lost dreams across the soft meadow. Moonlight draped everything in a gentle, silvery glow as if even the heavens had paused, holding their breath to witness this fragile reunion.

Tears brimmed in her wide, astonished eyes, sparkling with disbelief, joy, and a love so deep it ached in her chest. They slipped silently down her flushed cheeks, each tear reflecting the longing that had devoured her heart through endless nights and restless dreams. And then… that smile. That breathtaking, familiar curve of His lips, the very one she had searched for in every corner of her soul, in every whispered prayer. It shattered the boundaries of time and space.

Without a word, He stepped closer. His warmth enveloped her as His hand found hers, soft and strong, grounding her to this delicate reality that still felt like a dream. His thumb gently caressed the back of her hand, sending shivers through her as their fingers entwined.

“And why, Baanhi,” He murmured, His voice a deep, velvet whisper, the sound resonating through her very soul, “would you ever doubt that it is me?”

Meanwhile, across the tranquil beach, where the ocean's waves whispered softly against the shore and the moonlight bathed the sands in a shimmering silver glow, Dhruvi collapsed to her knees. Her body trembled as a sob broke free, raw and filled with longing. “My Lord…” The words escaped her lips like a broken plea, fragile and aching, as she stared up at Him—the Dwarkadhish—her Dwarkadhish. His form, majestic and timeless, stood bathed in moonlight, a vision both familiar and distant.

With a tenderness that pierced through her despair, His hand extended toward hers, the touch light yet unwavering, steady as the tides that kissed the shore. Her heart stilled when their hands met, His fingers warm against her cold, trembling ones. His eyes—deep and endless—locked with hers, filled with a love so tender it seemed to encompass all of time and space. It was the kind of love that transcended words.

“Yes, it’s me,” He said softly, His voice wrapping around her heart like a balm, mending the fractures of her soul. But then, the corners of His lips curved into that teasing smile, the one that had always undone her. “Only, I’m not your Lord. I’m your sakha.”

His words washed over her, breaking through the dam of disbelief that had held her in place. Dhruvi blinked, her breath catching as she felt the weight of her doubts dissolve into nothingness. Slowly, almost as if in a dream, He bent down and took her hand, pulling her gently to her feet. His touch lingered, firm yet delicate, grounding her to this moment—this reunion—while making her feel like she was floating, her feet barely brushing the cool, moonlit sand.

Their fingers intertwined, His thumb tracing soft circles over her knuckles, a silent reassurance that He was here, real and near. As they walked, side by side along the shore, she felt the warmth of His presence seep into her, cradling her heart in a serenity she hadn’t known in what felt like lifetimes. Her head dipped slightly toward Him, and without thinking, she leaned against His shoulder, the closeness bringing a peace she never knew she needed.

At the same time, in a garden that seemed to breathe with the sweet scent of flowers and sandalwood wafting through the air, Saanjh walked beside Him. Her hand rested securely in His, their fingers intertwined. The vibrant blossoms swayed in the evening breeze as if bowing to the very Lord of the universe. Yet, her heart raced, a storm of disbelief and wonder churning inside her. Her fingers tightened slightly around His, still unsure, reeling from the impossibility of it all.

She stole a glance at Him, the breathtaking face she had only dared to see in dreams—dreams that had blinded her in the quiet of the night, where the line between reverence and yearning blurred. How could He be here, beside her, as if this moment was plucked straight from those sacred imaginings?

Her voice was a soft whisper, trembling with the weight of a thousand unsaid questions. “Was it really you… who tugged my hair back then in the temple?” The words slipped from her lips like a half-forgotten secret, the incredulity in her heart too great to contain.

He turned, glancing over His shoulder with that familiar, playful smile—the one that had always undone her, the one that held galaxies of mischief and affection all at once. His eyes sparkled with knowing mirth. “And what’s so hard to believe about that?” He teased, His voice light and melodic, a soft chuckle woven into each word.

Saanjh’s heart stuttered, her breath catching as she looked up at Him, her gaze searching His face for answers that her mind still couldn’t comprehend. The darling of Vrindavan. The one who had stolen the hearts of millions, now standing by her side as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

After strolling a bit more, the Manmohan settled beside her after Madanmohini got comfortable on the swing, her fingers tracing the jute rope. Without a word, He gently pushed the swing into a soft, soothing rhythm. The familiar creak of the wood intertwined with the rustling leaves and the distant hum of night creatures, creating a melody only nature could compose. Her gaze drifted toward Him, lingering longer than it should have. There was something almost paradoxical about His simplicity—how could someone who held the entire cosmos in His hands appear so unassuming? Yet, the magic He wove was undeniable, pulling at her in ways words failed to describe. He was her enchanter, her safe harbour, the one whose mere presence could still be the tempest in her mind.

His chuckle broke the silence, soft yet brimming with mischief. "Sakhi," He teased, eyes glimmering with a knowing spark, "you're going to make me blush with all those thoughts."

His voice snapped her out of the trance she hadn’t realised she’d slipped into. Her heart skipped a beat as warmth rushed to her cheeks. Hastily, she tore her gaze away and fixed it on the ground. She swallowed hard, her hands suddenly too aware of themselves as one of them nervously gripped the swing’s rope, and the other lay on her lap.

A beat of hesitation passed, the words catching in her throat before she found the courage to speak. "Kanha," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the breeze playing through the trees. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," He replied, without missing a beat. His voice, soft and velvety, seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, coaxing her closer. And before she knew it, His arm slid effortlessly around her shoulders, drawing her nearer. The swing creaked in gentle protest as the space between them disappeared, and her heart thudded against her chest, loud enough she was certain He could hear it.

Samridhi took a slow, deliberate breath as she finally voiced the question that had haunted her for what seemed like lifetimes. “Why… why did you choose me? What have I done to deserve the honour of being in your presence? I’m just a mere mortal…”

Her voice faltered as she finished. Krishna, ever serene, responded with that familiar smile that seemed to hold the universe within it, His eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.

“You’ve always been in my presence, sakhi,” He replied, His tone light and teasing, as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you remember all those conversations we’ve had in your room?” He chuckled softly, His gaze soft yet playful. “We talked just yesterday.”

Samridhi’s eyes widened as a wave of heat rose, and memories of her private, unfiltered ramblings to His little idol flashed before her. The soft breeze toyed with two strands of hair, brushing them across her face, but in her flustered state, she made no move to brush them away.

“So… you hear everything I say to you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of wonder and mortification colouring her tone.

Krishna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, His eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “Everything.” He said, the single word laced with warmth, as if He cherished every awkward confession, every tearful prayer, every laugh she’d shared with His idol. His hand moved gently, almost lazily, as He reached out and tucked the loose strands behind her ear, His touch light as a feather yet sending a shiver coursing through her spine.

“But…” she started, her voice wavering. She forced herself to continue, even as her gaze dropped to the ground, unable to hold His anymore. “What have I ever done to deserve this? To see you like this, so divine… yet standing before me as though we’re equals?” Her voice cracked, soft and broken. “I’m just… just a sinner. Materialistic and flawed.”

The Murari paused mid-swing, his gentle laughter fading as He gracefully dismounted. Standing before Garima, who now seemed more uncertain and apprehensive, He took her trembling hands in His, urging her with a soft nudge to lift her gaze and meet His eyes.

“Love,” He said, His voice as soothing as a summer breeze. Garima’s brows furrowed in confusion. The Girivar chuckled softly. Helping her off the swing, He led her to the nearby lake, its surface shimmering with the moon’s delicate reflection. They settled on the grass, Garima instinctively keeping a respectful distance.

But before she could retreat too far, He sighed and pulled her gently closer, His touch warm and reassuring.

“You love me, sakhi,” He began. “You love me as if I am your everything. Despite being part of this material world, you never fail to include me—whether in your pain or your joy. And yes, you may stumble," He smiled, "but it’s in those very moments that I walk beside you.”

The Natwar wrapped His arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the comfort of His presence. Together, they stared at the moonlit water, the ripples gently distorting the silver reflection, mirroring the complexities of Garima’s emotions.

“But…” Garima’s voice wavered, barely more than a whisper, as she cowered beneath His touch. “You’re the Lord of the Universe, not my friend… I shouldn’t be treating you as I do, with such familiarity…”

Krishna's smile grew tender, brimming with warmth that seemed to wrap Agrata in an invisible embrace. His head tilted slightly, and with a soft glance, He caught her gaze. His eyes, bright as the stars mirrored in the calm waters, sparkled with an understanding beyond mortal grasp. “Why shouldn’t you, hmm? Have I ever asked for anything more than your heart?”

The girl opened her mouth, her voice barely a whisper, “But…”

“Ssh,” Krishna’s gentle voice cut through her hesitation. “No ‘but’s, sakhi. Hear me.”

His words, soft but unyielding, silenced her doubts.

“Love today is tossed around like it's something ordinary. People have forgotten its sanctity. They barter it and use it as a label for fleeting passions or selfish desires. But love… love is sacred, rare, untouched by the ego or the world’s expectations.” His eyes softened even more, overflowing with affection as He gently took her trembling hand in His. “You, sakhi, have loved me like my gopis did, with a heart pure and full…”

Agrata’s chest tightened, her emotions swirling between disbelief and the depth of His love. She shook her head, blinking back the tears that welled up in her eyes. “You’re… you’re exaggerating…” Her voice broke as she glanced up, meeting His gaze, deep and eternal like the vast universe holding her fragile heart.

The Murlidhar's smile deepened, and with a playful shake of His head, He reclined back, propping His head on one hand, laying comfortably on the soft earth. With the other, He gently patted the space beside Him, beckoning her closer. Agrata hesitated, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks, but under His knowing gaze, she slowly settled down beside Him.

For a moment, the world was wrapped in a quiet stillness. Above them, the night sky stretched out, vast and starry. Then, with exaggerated seriousness, Krishna sighed, His eyes sparkling with mischief. “You girls… all of you,” He began, shaking His head as if bearing the weight of their endless insecurities. “Always so unsure, always doubting yourselves.”

Manyataa gave a sheepish shrug, her gaze wandering up to the stars, a small, guilty smile tugging at her lips.

The silence hung between them, lingering like a heartbeat. Then, His rich, velvety voice filled the air again. “Tell me,” He said, His body shifting. With a graceful movement, He turned onto His side, propping His head up with one hand, His gaze now locked onto hers. Full of warmth and affection, his eyes sought hers like a beacon. “Why do you think you don’t deserve me?”

The sudden closeness caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath faltering as she stared back at Him, startled by the intensity of His gaze. She hadn’t expected Him to face her like this—so direct, so tender. Her heart raced as if trying to keep pace with the moment.

“Dear God…” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely a whisper.

Krishna’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Yes?” He teased, eyes gleaming with boyish charm.

Her face flushed a deep red, heat rising to her cheeks as she stammered, flustered by both His teasing and His nearness. “I-I mean…” she struggled, her words caught in her throat. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside her chest. “So, uh… what did you ask again?”

Krishna’s laughter, soft and deep, rumbled through the still night. He leaned in slightly, the amusement in His eyes never fading.

“I asked,” He repeated slowly, savouring each word as if giving her time to settle, “Why do you think you don’t deserve me?”

Kesar pushed herself up to sit straight; her hands fumbled with the delicate hem of her lehenga. She exhaled shakily, trying to gather her words. “Well… there are so many reasons…” Her voice was soft but strained. “You do so much for me. You’re there with me in every step of my life; you lull me to sleep when I’m spiralling into darkness; you calm me down when I’m on the verge of breaking. You remind me that you’re there when I'm lost and hopeless, even when I can’t feel you.”

She paused, eyes downcast, her fingers tightening their grip on her lehenga. “But I… I haven’t done anything for you… nothing worthy. I haven’t ever given you proper offerings like other sincere devotees. I try to tell myself that my love is enough, that it can compensate… but even then, I don’t know if I love you the right way. What if it’s not enough? What if my love doesn’t even reach you—”

Before she could finish, His warm hand pressed gently over her mouth. Her heart skipped as she looked up at him, startled by the sudden gesture.

Her Kanha’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and his lips pressed into a thin smile. He leaned in as he spoke in a playful reprimand. “Don’t you dare doubt my sakhi like that ever again, okay?”

Kesar’s face fell, her gaze dropping as she gave a faint, unconvincing nod. Kanha cupped her chin gently, tilting her face upward until her eyes met His.

“Okay?” he repeated, his voice filled with quiet insistence.

Kesar’s breath hitched, her throat tightening as she looked into his gaze—endless pools of love and reassurance, with no room for doubt. “Okay…” she whispered, her voice small, but the hint of belief slowly creeping in, as if his presence could make her start believing again.

The Natwar got up, pulling the Soni after Him. He then started leading her by her hand, and the girl followed behind Him wordlessly.

“Is our love supposed to be transactional?” came His question as He glanced down at her.

“No, but I should at least-”

“No ‘but’s,” He interrupted, a playful firmness in His tone. He pulled her hand gently, coaxing her to walk beside Him, their steps falling in rhythm. “I don’t love my devotees because of their offerings. It’s not the jewellery or the fine clothes they bring that make me care. I love them because they carry love in their hearts and have made space for me there. My affection doesn’t hinge on gold or gems—it thrives in the simplicity of a heart that loves freely.”

“I care about every soul, but I can’t help but be a little biased toward those who simply love me. That’s where the magic is. Old, familiar love, effortless and easy.” He paused, casting a sideways glance at her. “I’ve seen the way your eyes light up just thinking of me. I’ve felt the flutter in your heart when you speak to me. I’ve known, felt, and cherished your love forever, sakhi. I couldn’t ask for more. Your love is all I need to love you and do everything I do for you.”

As Krishna finished speaking, He turned to glance at the girl walking beside Him, only to find her cheeks flushed red and her eyes shimmering with tears. As a few droplets escaped, streaking down her cheeks, she tried to hide them, hurriedly bringing her dupatta to her face, dabbing at the tears.

Krishna’s lips curved into a knowing smile, warm and full of affection. A deep, melodic chuckle escaped Him. Soni’s breath hitched as she fought to regain control, but Krishna’s laughter only deepened, not out of amusement but out of pure, unfiltered joy. His hand, still holding hers, gave a gentle squeeze—a silent reassurance, a reminder that her tears, her love, her emotions were all safe with Him.

“Well, well, well,” said the Manohar in His usual playful demeanour, “it’s time.”

Time for what, Kanha?” questioned a confused Soni.

His eyes shone with that familiar playfulness as he muttered, “Maharaas.”

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

And they were all back in the temple premises, in the majestic courtyard, which was now fragrant with elegant blossoms that shone under the moonlight. Their lehengas sparkled brighter than before; their anklets jingled more melodiously than ever. Their hearts raced in a rhythm they had never known, each beat louder, more desperate as if their souls were on the verge of breaking free from the confines of their bodies. A sense of bliss, raw and overwhelming, enveloped them, making them feel both weightless and anchored at the same time.

And there He stood, amid it all—His eyes tender, filled with a love so deep it seemed to engulf the entire universe. He gazed at each of them, not as individuals, but as His entire world. Every doubt, every question they had harboured vanished at that moment. It was true. He was there, as real as the moonlight that caressed their faces, and the immense love they felt for Him paled to the boundless love He reflected at them. It was infinite, eternal—so much more than they had ever dreamed possible.

The girls were lost—completely oblivious to the world around them. They did not notice the moonlight casting its silver veil over the temple courtyard, nor the gentle breeze whispering through the trees, nor even the sweet perfume of midnight blooms that filled the air. Nothing mattered except Him. He ruled their senses with an overwhelming presence, pulling them into a realm where only He existed. His yellow attire glowed like the morning sun, His sandalwood scent wrapped around them like a promise, and His touch, soft yet commanding, spoke of an eternal bond beyond comprehension.

He was everything. To Baanhi, He was her Keshav. To Dhruvi, He was Dwarkadhish. To Manyataa, He was Krishn, the anchor of her heart. Samridhi’s Only One, Soni’s beloved Kanhu, Madanmohini’s Enchanter—each girl saw in Him the embodiment of their deepest devotion. Garima’s Supreme Lord, Saanjh’s Kanhaiya, Agrata’s Beloved, Kesar’s Manmohan—He stood before each of them, uniquely theirs, yet timelessly the same.

The girls didn't realise when a hauntingly beautiful flute melody floated into the air, like a song from another world. It wove through the wind, mingling with the rustling leaves, the distant murmur of the river, and the soft chime of temple bells. Nature itself seemed to bow to Him, joining in a symphony that pulled the girls out of the confines of the physical world. And without even realizing it, they began to move—lifting their hands, twirling in slow, graceful arcs around Him, their Universe. Their souls danced in perfect harmony with the melody, as if they were not merely mortals, but celestial beings orbiting their Krishna.

And then, as if the very Earth called them back, He reached out, His strong hands gently pulling them toward Him. Each girl was grounded only by His touch—yet even then, it felt as though He held not just their hands, but their very souls.

Though they stood in a circle, Saanjh could not see Baanhi’s Keshav. Garima couldn’t see Manyataa’s Krishn, nor could Madanmohini see Dhruvi’s Dwarkadhish. Each could only see their own Krishna, who now gazed into their eyes with a look so captivating, so full of divine love, that it took their breath away. With a smile that promised eternity, He twirled them again, one by one, each spinning deeper into His embrace, deeper into the overwhelming bliss of being His.

The ten girls danced in perfect harmony, hand-in-hand with their Universe, their feet moving as one in an effortless rhythm. They were no longer aware of themselves or the world around them, lost entirely to the bliss of His presence. Yet, despite being beyond their senses, their movements were flawlessly in sync. Each twirl, each graceful pose, blended seamlessly into the next, as if guided by a force greater than any of them—a divine choreography written in their souls.

They danced not just with their bodies, but with their hearts, their spirits. Every step was an expression of their boundless love for Him—the One who held them, who spun them into an eternal dance where time ceased to exist. His presence bound them together, the invisible thread that linked their hearts in perfect unison. They were no longer individuals, but a single entity, moving as one, their devotion and surrender reflected in every movement.

Each girl felt Him with them, His hand gently leading hers, His eyes locking with hers, and in that moment, she knew she was His. Their feet glided over the ground as though it were air, their bodies weightless, carried by the power of their love. And though they danced together, each girl knew her bond with Him was sacred, unique. They spun through the night, their lehengas flowing like liquid light, merging with the moonlight and the music of the flute that still filled the air.

It wasn’t just a dance—it was a communion, a moment where the veil between the mortal and the divine had lifted, and they, hand-in-hand with their Krishna, had become a part of something eternal, something pure and infinite. The Universe moved with them, within them, and for this brief, beautiful moment, they were no longer bound by anything but their love for Him.

How long they danced, they couldn’t say. Time had ceased to exist in that sacred moment. It felt like an eternity, yet passed in the blink of an eye. At the end of their divine dance, the Murlidhar stopped in front of each girl, His hand warm around theirs, pulling them close. His eyes, deep and all-knowing, locked with theirs, and He smiled—each smile uniquely meant for the girl before Him. The world fell away as the girls stared back, their hearts overflowing with bliss. Tears of pure joy slipped down their flushed cheeks, but they didn’t care. Nothing mattered now, except their Govind.

Then, in a moment so intimate, so unexpected, He drew each of His partners into a divine embrace. The girls were stunned—could this be real? The Lord of the Universe, their Krishna, holding them as if they were His own, as if they had always belonged to Him. Disbelief filled their hearts for a breathless second, but then, as His warmth wrapped around them, realization dawned. The truth they had always known deep inside surfaced—this was no dream. He was theirs, and they were His. Completely, eternally. In His arms, they weren’t Samridhi, Agrata, or Kesar—they were simply His sakhis. His beloved companions who existed for no one but Him.

“I love you, sakhi,” He whispered softly into each girl’s ear, His voice like a soothing melody only they could hear. “Just as you have claimed me with your love, I have claimed you today. You are mine, and mine only.” His words were more than promises—they were the very foundation of their souls, binding them to Him forever. “I will be with you always, in every second of your life,” He continued, His arms tightening as if He never wanted to let go.

The girls, overwhelmed, melted deeper into His embrace, surrendering completely to the moment, eyes pressed shut. His presence filled them, every doubt, every longing vanished. His voice became a whisper, barely audible now, as He leaned in closer, His breath warm against their skin. “This isn’t goodbye,” He murmured. “We will meet again, just like this. Until then, speak to me through the little idol in your room. I am always with you.”

The girls could barely breathe, their hearts beating in rhythm with His words. They were no longer bound by time, space, or the limitations of the world. In that hug, they had found their eternity. They had found their everything in Him—their Krishna, their forever.

As they opened their eyes, the warmth of His embrace faded, replaced by a new, yet familiar sensation. They were no longer in their Kanha’s arms—but in each other’s. Slowly, reality settled in, though the glow of His love lingered in their hearts. Kesar gently released her hold on Dhruvi, and Madanmohini let go of Soni, their fingers still trembling from the divine touch. A soft, joyful sob escaped Manyataa as she reached for Baanhi, their hands tenderly wiping away each other’s tears, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had just enveloped them.

Samridhi and Agrata, eyes brimming with unshed tears, exchanged a knowing look. There was no need for words—their smiles spoke volumes. Saanjh and Garima, still holding hands, turned to the others, their faces radiant with the same unspoken truth.

As they stood there, the ten of them, surrounded by the remnants of that divine moment, they didn’t need to say anything. Their souls were already communicating, speaking a language they had never learned but had always known—the language of His Love. It was a bond deeper than words, stronger than any earthly connection. Each girl could see it reflected in the other’s eyes—the same love, the same devotion, the same feeling of having been chosen by Him.

They never thought it was possible to fall deeper in love with a being they already cherished so profoundly. Yet here they were, standing in that sacred space, lost in His love, tangled in it, freed by it, and ascended through it. Every breath they took felt lighter, every heartbeat a reminder that they belonged to Him now and He to them. His presence had intertwined their hearts, leaving them forever bound to one another through the love of their Krishna.

They had been touched by the infinite, and in that touch, they had found something eternal. Together, they had transcended, their spirits united in the only truth that mattered—His love, which was endless, unshakeable, and all-encompassing. And as they looked around at one another, tears mingling with smiles, they knew they would carry this love for the rest of their lives, forever tethered to the One who made their souls dance.

************************************

IT'S DONE! IT'S FINALLY DONE! Sorry for taking so long T_T

@saanjh-ki-dulhan @krsnaradhika @chaliyaaa @saanjhghafa @krishnaaradhika @ramayantika @tumharisakhi @sumiyxx @vishnavishivaa @rantingabtmyman @willbedecided @braj-raj

[blxdc]

My brain is scrampled eggs today--

[commanderthalys]

🍜☕food for Thalys c:

Ahhh thank you for the ask <333

🍜 - what kind of flavors do they prefer? strong or mild? spicy or not?

Thalys loves bold flavors that are so full of seasonings and spice. She really likes savory and salty stuff so spicy grilled meats are her favorites.

☕ - do they prefer hot drinks or cold drinks?

Cold drinks!! Especially juices with ice (lemonade is a personal favorite of hers).

[d4ught3r-0f-n0n3]

Zip didn't even know what she was doing, it wasn't like her to talk to many new Demigods.

But this one... this one was weird. She needed to figure out what was going on.

The Satyr leaned on Thali- the huge tree in the middle of camp, a charming smile as she waved to the Demigod.

"Hey, newbie!"

- @wild-child-of-pan

“Mmm..” *She let out a murmur of a greeting, her bionic leg making a small sound as she shifted and looked at Zippy.. they closed the book in their hand, “metal and rocks for dummies”, and shoved it away.*

“What can I help you with..?” *They asked as they put their hands in their pockets and didn’t look at them, their pink eyes not looking at the Satyr*

[notcryingtoday]

In "The Gospel of Judas", a non-canon book in term of Christianism, Judas's actions were done out of obedience: it's Jesus who asks him to betray him in order to come back as the savior. Judas was seen as a traitor because no one except him knew since Judas is the only one to really understand him and his words (on like, understand in a cosmical level, due to his own soul being different I don't know I was young when I was in the Church).

So yeah, Jayce Thalis is actually this Judas Iscariot. Except it's not canon and no one believes this, the same way everyone in Piltover and Zaun think Jayce went to fight Viktor and everyone IRL was so sure he killed Viktor and betrayed him (for a week).

[thalwri]

☆ thalwri ( thal or thali applies too) ☆ 19 ☆ she/her ☆ aries

☆☆ masterlists ☆☆ terms and conditions ☆☆ ao3 ☆☆

recently!!! perfect fit! (xavier)

☆ requests and asks are open!!

☆ most of my content has 18+ content (but requests for other things can be made!) so MINORS STAY AWAY OR GET BLOCKED AND REPORTED!!!

☆ again, this blog is mostly 18+ content, so if you choose to ignore this second warning, you're entering my page at your own discretion.

all works belong to thalwri. translating, copying and changing/modifying the content is NOT allowed.

[muqre]

Hey, I could really use some help

Hello everyone, I am reaching out for financial support during my recovery from a broken foot.

On the evening of December 9th into December 10th, a mere hours before I was set to start my new job, I was taken to the ER after a fall off my basement stairs left me with a swollen right foot I couldn't walk on. I was shocked to learn that I had in fact broken it.

Still, determined to make an income, especially now that I had medical expenses to pay for out of pocket and needed insurance for future Orthopedics appointments, I went into work. This unfortunately didn't bode well with my bosses and after only a day of working, I was told I couldn't return until I was cleared by a doctor to work.

Between these new medical expenses, still having no income and the holiday expenses I had already made, there is no way I can afford to pay for my current and any future medical bills, and since I am not working, I do not have health insurance to cover any of it.

I am currently applying for desk jobs and hoping for something to come through that will help me with future medical expenses, but as of now, I could really use help paying for the medical expenses that have already accumulated.

I was originally asking for $7000 as that would cover what I owed, but recent complications with my latest medical bill have me owing way more than the good faith estimate I was given, and if I cannot dispute it, I will be owing over $8000 and may need to make my goal higher.

Please share and donate if you can <3

[bookdragonlibrary]

Climatiqueen analysis

Positives points:

The theme of the episode with Adrien struggling with the new situation, his new freedom and the emptiness it gives him is so interesting!

I love Adrinette in this episode and the Gorilla shoing (?) the paparazzi away with water!

Aglaé is a interesting new character. Her name comes from the godness of splendour Aglaé (Aglaïa in Ancient Greek), on of the 3 Graces. In addition of Aglaé, there are Thalie, the godness of abundance, and Eyphrosyne, the godness of elation. They are called the Charites (Kharites in Ancient Greek) where the word charity might come from. They're godnesses of the beauty of nature: nature itself but also human creativity, seduction and fecondity. They are celebrated during festivities as they are moments that bring joy and make you enjoy life. But I think the choice of her name comes from the type of daisy called Aglaé.

Negatives and details analyse:

Buying a book and going to a signing event seem reachable. What could have make the reward more important would be meeting Claudia Kanté so Aurore could talk to her and ask her questions. That would have seem bigger than a book. But maybe that is even outside of Chloé's reach...

Seeing Marinette and Adrien together like that make Illustrhater even weirder in comparison...

The appareance of Sublime at the end of the episode just before the dark screen seems so weird in a sense we suppose to feel a sense of danger. Is that because we suppose to not knowing her yet? Or because Sublime is a real menace for future episodes?

[starlost-andfound]

skz x desi reader headcanons

A.N: highly unedited, it's just me yapping - also! if you have anything you want to add on, pls share! let's all be delulu together hehe

tagging: @ihrtlino (i'm sorry it took so long for me to write this :') <3)

Chan

Your parents would absolutely LOVE him, and would probably invite him to come over for Diwali - bonus: Chan in a kurta - actually, scratch that - any of the members in a kurta.

Would insist he can handle the spice of your mom’s curries but the extremely red tint on his ears and face says otherwise. He absolutely inhales the lassi. 

Would call you a name of endearment in your mother tongue - THERE WAS AN AUTHOR HERE AND I WILL TAG THEM @beebee18 PLS GO READ THIS FIC BECAUSE IT’S THIS VERY ONE THAT CAUSED MY WHOLE SKZ X DESI READER BRAIN ROT - to have Chan call you meri jaan UGH

Would try and learn your language and would probably grasp common phrases like “I’m hungry” or “I love you”. I can see him sneaking up on you when you’re out and about the house, sneaking up behind you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder “bukh lagi hain” (i’m hungry)

Would ask you to marry him in your mother tongue.

Would cry at your wedding when you’re doing the rounds around the fire and saying your vows.

Minho

Would learn bollywood style dancing like bollywood hip hop or something similar to impress you.

Lee Know singing a Bollywood ballad. That’s it. That’s the thought,

Lee Know is really good at learning languages and I feel like he would learn your mother tongue to speak with you or your family. You’re waiting for your mother to open the door when you take him to meet your parents, and you’re assuring him you’ll translate everything they say. Then, when the door opens he immediately greets your mother fluently. 

Would cook your favourite traditional dish when you’re feeling homesick. He would text your mom, asking for the recipe before putting together the craziest thali (a/n: I’ve been writing about food so much I’m craving all of this now).

Tries to decorate the house for Diwali but doesn’t quite get how to do the rangoli so he calls Hyunjin for help. Hyunjin walks into your house to see Lee Know with multi-colored rangoli powder smudged onto his face and all over his hands. You come back to the house to find Lee Know chasing Hyunjin with a handful of tissues

Puts coconut oil in your hair and braids it for you. Doesn’t even say anything about it. One day you’re just doing it and he pops into the bathroom, takes the oil from your hands and does it. Massages it into your scalp and braids your hair. Then he just washes his hands and leaves. He does it for you every time now. Gets mad the one time when you decide to do it on your own and he does that angry little sigh. Doesn’t speak to you until you cuddle him and promise you’ll let him do it from now on.

Changbin 

You can not convince me this man would not listen to rap music in your mother tongue. Would probably have a favourite rapper. I feel like generally speaking he would be very interested in Bollywood music as a genre and style of music. He would be inspired to maybe include some of those elements like the instrument style etc in his own music.

Would have your contact name saved as a name of endearment in your mother tongue.

Would dance with you at weddings or events.

Would secretly take classes in your mother tongue so he could speak with you. You’d find out one day when you come back home and he’s reciting a speech about how much he loves you.

You introduce him to biryani for the first time and it’s officially his favourite thing. Catch him eating biryani in the dressing rooms in SKZ-Talker

Hyunjin

Would learn how to do mehendi just so he could do yours. I can see him making really beautiful designs of flowers in great detail.

If you know any kind of classical bollywood dances I feel like he would really want to learn the basics so he could dance with you.Bonus: When you get your mehendi done for your wedding, he would probably tear up when he finds his initials in the designs.

Would love watching the romantic bollywood movies - would probably cry WATERFALLS and deny it - but later he posts a painting of a scene from the movie on his instagram. Would slow dance to the romantic songs with you.

Would paint or photograph you in traditional clothing

Would buy you pretty jhumkas and bangles at the market. You find out later that they absolutely ripped him off his money for those bangles but it’s okay because he loves you. That man would be so in love with you he probably build a whole palace in your name. 

Han 

Would learn an Arjit Singh song for you on the guitar (a/n: just had a thought about this - is arjit singh like the hozier of bollywood??). Would send full covers to you first, before posting a small snippet of it onto Instagram. He might upload a voice message of him singing it on Bubble for Stays but you know it’s all for you.

Would watch bollywood shows and movies with you - probably (definitely) bawls his eyes out when you watch Kuch Kuch Hota Hai or KKKG.

Gets heavily invested in any kind of Bollywood tea, his jaw drops and gasps out loud when his favorite celebrity couple breaks up “they broke up?!”

Randomly blurts out dialogues from famous desi movies

Felix 

Judging by the amount of chicken this man eats on mukbang lives (r.i.p bbokari’s cousins), he would LOVE butter chicken and naan. You can’t convince me otherwise because I know I’m right.

Would learn how to bake a traditional sweet and surprise you with it / nearly burns down the kitchen in the process and decides to just order a box of your favourite sweets. I get the feeling Felix would absolutely LOVE Indian sweets like gulab jamun or jalebi or ladoo. 

Would 100000% learn your mother tongue.

Would want to do his mehendi with you too - matching designs!!!

Holi! I can see Felix as someone who would really enjoy Holi. He would probably get really sneaky with it and innocently approach you before projectile launching a handful of a mix of colours at you (but that’s only payback because you did the same earlier).

Would surprise you with a trip to your home country when you’re feeling a little homesick.

Seungmin 

This man would absolutely learn a ballad or a romantic song for you, would probably learn many just to sing to you - he would most definitely not tell you he’s learning any of these songs until one karaoke night he just pulls out the mic and starts belting it out.

Would pretend to act uninterested when you start watching a desi show or movie (does the uninterested dad pose standing in the living room with his hands on his hips before gradually moving to sit down) but then he ends up being the one to start crying or to start yelling at the television screen. Gets upset when you keep getting advertisement breaks on the screen, is absolutely torn apart when he realises he needs to wait a whole week to find out what happens.

Would learn how to say i love you in your language. I feel like Seungmin is quite soft spoken in the way he expresses love, but he does it strongly. You’d be sitting on the couch together watching a Bollywood series and one of the character’s confesses to the other and he turns to you to do the same.

When you don’t mention important dates of celebrations and festivals, he surprises you by bringing it up first. Probably surprises you with a box of sweets. “What are these for?” “It’s Diwali today isn’t it?!”

Jeongin 

I feel like, as someone who sings Trot, Jeongin would really love singing classic Bollywood songs.

Would also get very invested in the shows and movies you watch. This man would not move a muscle from start to finish. Imagine if he watched Bahubali back when it released and at the end of the first movie he’s dying to know what happens and you have to break it to him that he's going to have to wait years until the next movie comes out.

I feel like he’d be really into the Bollywood action/superhero movies like he would really enjoy the Dhoom movie series or Don or Krrish. You’d catch him humming one of the songs from the movies or imitating SRK’s iconic lines from the movie. 

He would really love your traditional food and would go out of his way to find authentic restaurants making this food to take you out on a date there - and then you’d have to talk him through the whole menu and what each dish has.