#your child has been gone for twenty years and you do not know whether he is dead or living. but at least if he were dead you'd have peace

[tayrcse]

That Love is Ours to Make

✎ series summary: Rafe never intended to fall in love with you. I mean, you were just his client/fuck-buddy, right? What happens when he realizes you’re more than that?

✎ chapter summary: Rafe helps you through the worst of the withdrawals and helps you realize your feelings for him.

✎ warnings: unprotected sex, withdrawals, mentions of drugs

✎ characters: Rafe Cameron, Sarah Cameron

✎ word count: 1,518

✎ author’s note: the ending kinda sucks, but oh well

series masterlist

Day three. Day three of the most intense craving you’ve ever experienced. It’s all you can think about during your waking moments.

“Rafe, please,” you whine, following him as he continues doing chores around the house.

“No, (Y/N),” he replies, not even looking at you.

“It hurts, Rafe,” you say, tears coming to your eyes.

He finally pauses and turns to face you. “I know, baby. It’ll get better,” he reassures, giving you a kiss on your forehead. In any other circumstance, his kiss might have helped. In this instance, all it did was annoy you.

“When?” You demand, pouting like a petulant child.

“Soon,” was his only answer.

Day seven. Day seven of the worst mood you’ve ever been in. You barely left the bed, having given up on trying to get Rafe to give you more cocaine. You’re on the edge of snapping at any moment, and Rafe is walking on eggshells around you.

“Would you shut up!” You grumble.

“I haven’t said anything, princess,” Rafe sighs, running a hand over his exhausted face.

“You’re breathing too loud,” you grunt, turning away from him on the bed.

Rafe barely restrains himself from strangling you right then and there.

Day fourteen. Day fourteen and you’re finally starting to feel better. You’re eating more, and the cravings are almost gone. There’s barely a moment when Rafe doesn’t find you rummaging in his kitchen for something to eat, but he doesn’t comment on it. He also doesn’t comment when you wake up in a cold sweat from whatever nightmare you had this time.

Day twenty. Day twenty and you’ve never felt worse. The cravings are back in full force. Anything and everything causes you to lash out. Rafe takes the brunt of it.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” You yell when he, once again, denies you what you want most. He walks out of the room, ignoring your continued screams. Rafe really wants to murder you at this point.

Just an hour later, he finds you in his bed, sobbing into a pillow. Silently, he pulls you into his embrace. You don’t resist.

Day thirty. Day thirty and you’ve calmed down slightly. The anger seems to have dissipated and been replaced with an overwhelming sadness. More often than not, Rafe is holding you as you cry. When you’re not crying your eyes out, you’re an unmoving mass in his bed.

“Go to sleep, (Y/N),” Rafe mumbles, arm slung over his face.

“Can’t,” you reply simply. You’ve been tossing and turning for the past hour, unable to fall asleep. Your movements are halted when you feel him pull you back against his chest.

“Then at least stop moving,” he grumbles sleepily.

You feel your heart speed up at his nearness. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and you can feel every inch of him.

You don’t sleep that night. Whether from the way your stomach coils with nerves from his nearness or the fear of the dreams that plague your mind, you’re not sure.

Day ninety. Day ninety and the worst has passed. The craving resurfaces every now and then, but you no longer feel the need for it 24/7. You’ve left Rafe’s house, but he still checks in on you everyday.

Day 365. Day 365 and it’s been a year since you indulged your addiction. You and Rafe lost contact a few months back. With you out of his house, you assumed he forgot about you. However, that was far from the truth. Rafe never forgot about you. In fact, you were on his mind every waking moment. You haunted his dreams when he fell asleep. Unbeknownst to you, Rafe was watching, waiting. Waiting for you to find your way back to him, but he wanted you to be free first. He wanted you to choose him, not because of what he could offer you, but because you loved him the way he loved you.

Day 400. Day 400 and you had been invited to a party by your new friend, Sarah.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. You want one?” Sarah asked you an hour into the party.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink. I’m gonna get some air though,” You reply, your voice almost drowned out by the music. Sarah nodded before walking toward the makeshift bar.

Stepping outside, you take in your surroundings. A familiar form catches your eye.

“Rafe?” You call out. The man, having heard you, turns away from the people he was talking to. His eyes meet yours and takes your breath away. You find your feet moving of their own accord closer to him. He does the same.

“Hi, (Y/N/N),” he says softly, a smile on his face.

You’re speechless for a moment. Taking in his features. You hadn’t realized how much you missed him.

“How, uh, how are you?” You ask awkwardly.

“Good. You?”

“Good.” You don’t know what’s going on with you. You can’t seem to form the words you want to say. After seeing the worst of you, you weren’t sure what he thought of you. You were afraid. You were afraid that he didn’t feel the say way you felt about him.

‘What do I have to lose?’ You think before speaking. “I missed you.” You look at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Rafe only smiles and says, “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too excitedly.

“Yeah, the house is awfully empty without you in it,” Rafe says, smiling just as hard as you are.

Eventually, Sarah comes outside to find you, drink in hand. You’re too caught up with Rafe to be surprised when Sarah reveals that Rafe is her brother. You don’t even register that she doesn’t seem surprised that you know each other. Sarah leaves you to talk to Rafe once you assure her you’d be okay.

An hour later, Sarah finds you, still talking to Rafe. “I’m gonna head out. Coming with?” Sarah asks you. You hesitate, glancing between Rafe and Sarah.

“I’ll take her home,” Rafe says, saving you from answering.

Sarah glances at Rafe. “You sure?” She asks, directing the question at you.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you reassure her. You and Sarah hug goodbye and promise to see each other soon. You don’t see her glare at Rafe as she walks away. A silent look that says, “hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

When Sarah is out of sight, Rafe brings your attention back to him. “Wanna get out of here?” You nod, and he takes your hand, guiding you to his truck.

His lips are on yours as soon as you cross the threshold of his house. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he says between kisses.

“I have some idea,” you say grinning, your hand finding the bulge in his pants. He hisses at the contact.

“Fuck it,” he says to himself. You’re confused until he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you up the stairs and into his bedroom. You squeal happily, arms going up to wrap around his neck.

He has you on his bed in seconds, hands pawing at your clothes. His fingers fumble with your bra as his lips trail kisses down your neck and down the valley of your breasts. He discards the rest of your clothes quickly, eager to get inside you.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, needing to feel him after so long.

“Almost,” he says, lining himself up with your entrance. In one swift motion, he pushes all the way inside you, both of you moaning at the feeling.

“Move, Rafe,” you beg, nails leaving marks down his back.

“So fucking tight, baby,” he whispers into your neck as he starts moving his hips.

It doesn’t take long for him to bring you to the brink of the best orgasm of your life. “I’m close,” you moan, pleasure clouding every part of your mind.

“Me too. Cum for me, princess,” Rafe commands. With one last thrust, he’s pushing you over the edge. You feel yourself clench around him, and he follows you soon after.

“I love you, so much,” Rafe says as he brings you both down from your climaxes.

“I love you,” you whisper, every piece of you heart going into those three words.

After cleaning you up and getting you into one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, the two of you are lying in his bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. You look at him from your place beside him, love shining in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His eyebrows furrow as he asks, “For what?”

“For saving me. I don’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for you,” you tell him sincerely. He doesn’t answer, but you don’t need him to. The way he kisses you tells you all you need to know.

You fall asleep in his arms that night. And, for the first time in a long time, you don’t dread waking up the next day because you have Rafe. Now and forever.

[yaoi-yaoieverywhere]

Cale Henituse (nee Kim Roksoo- god that is so funny to say it like that) and his experience with love is undeniably Queer.

I mean that in an extremely positive way as part of the Queer community. LGBTIA+, if you use that acronym. I'm not going to specifically assign a specific gender, sexuality, or romantic leaning to Cale during this conversation either. As a character in a novel he is made by and of the author and the reader's meshed experiences.

So let's visit the beginning of his story. (Spoilers for the novel, if you haven't read it.)

Kim Roksoo was a (so far unnamed) kid whose body was stolen as a very young child by The White Star and 'infected' with his curse which was maintained by the God of Death. His mother, clearly depicted as loving him, is not enough to save him. His soul then traverses into another universe and is born again. His parents love him there too. They die too.

Kim Roksoo grows up in a world where everything he loves falls away. Something about his being is unexplainably repelling those he thinks of with love in whatever way it can manage. Simple job opportunities as seen with his social workers all the way up to stripping others of joys until they abuse Roksoo as seen with his uncle. If nothing else works, death is their end instead. Similarly, it can be read further that even things he loves are taken from him via a deliberate lack of worldly possessions and later marveling at the taste of food once he transmigrates. This is not just Beacrox being an excellent chef- even a simple fruit he picks has him drooling at the taste. But, we're getting ahead of ourselves. Roksoo has yet to become Cale.

The apocalypse happens. This doesn't appear to be Roksoo's fault, exactly, but it certainly trails all the damage it can after his specific place in it. By the age of twenty, whether he admits it or not, Roksoo is clearly under the impression that this lack of love is his fault. Something about him has made this happen. His love. His thoughts are shaped by this guess, and for some reason, it works. It works until he can't help but feel safer and settled with Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo.

And then the curse sees he has loved again, that he has BEEN loved for so long, and decides they have to die. At this point, GoD has noticed and decided to nip the problem in the bud. Not by removing the curse from a child long abused by it. Not in fixing the system when it would cost him something he doesn't want to spend.

Instead, he offers Choi Jungsoo and Lee Soohyuk a chance to live... If they let Roksoo die. But, of course, they love him. You don't just let death come for someone you love if you have a say. They say no. And they both die for it. Roksoo carries that weight without crying but is unable to ever forget. To forgive himself. Not even as Cale. Not even when he knows they chose it.

Team One is the team that has never had a single death under Kim Roksoo's watch, isn't it?

At this point, you may be asking what in the fresh hell any of this has to do with being Queer. Being Queer is to have society put a crowbar between you and everything you love. Especially those that love you regardless. It can feel like loving yourself is a stigma that follows you your whole life. If left alone, without support? It shapes the very way you think about yourself and others. Love comes at an unbearable cost unless you throw yourself through three different hoops of obscurity and try not to look too hard at it. And fixing that way of thinking takes years and miles and each kind touch you could ever give.

Any reader would at least eventually agree that the way Cale thinks is intentionally contradictory and even deceitful... but to who? He is absolutely certain that Choi Han is the protagonist. There is no one who should be reading his thoughts at any point. He doesn't know yet that there was a curse, especially not that it's gone now. But subconsciously, it protects him.

(He has, in some way, just lost his whole world again. And he is convinced if he can't bury the love deep enough, it's just going to keep happening.)

But this is where the change that makes this far from a doomed gay narrative kicks in. Also, the real beginning of the novel. Roksoo wakes up as Cale. He wakes up healthy, well-off, and beautiful. Loved, as well, not that it is communicated well by any party at that point.

"It's worth a try."

To Cale though this is clearly more than 'worth a try'. This is his new Life. He loves being here. While burying his love under the layers of contradiction in his mind he grabs every opportunity at friends and family with both hands.

His story is a long one full of ups and downs as he tries to heal. Slacking, I believe he calls it, undisturbed peace where he can pretend to coalesce. But his heart only mends when he is surrounded by people who have grown to trust and love this frankly pitiful man who works himself to the bone for peace. And love. And acceptance for all. And pixie dust.

There is so MUCH about Cale that can reflect anyone in the queer community that has nothing or little to do with his misery. The transition from a body that made him viscerally uncomfortable even though many would view it as peak manhood to a body he quickly and gladly labeled as Making Anything Look Good (even himself) and promptly losing all muscle mass to maintain this idea of his ideal presentation to the world? That's body euphoria gang. It's also bucking gender roles.

The ability to categorize so many people as beautiful and lovely and good while not once hitting on or thinking of them sexually or romantically gets him in the aro and the ace community's back pocket. Hell, it can also slip him right into the bi and pan groups too. And of course, many people love the idea of him being in love with Lee Soohyuk and Choi Jungsoo at the same time, happily adding Polyamorous to that list of possible roles. (Especially considering Gender Anarchy Polyamory, which is invested in the idea that you love how you love and live with who makes you happy even if it's never more than a strong platonic bond. Even if you don't ship the three sexually, they were planning to spend the rest of their lives together on a farm. Without anyone else. That's love too.)

He just... His experiences are so lived by the community once you remove the dragons and the demonic army. Especially the way he has held on for so long in a world that just seems to hate his love. Even when clearly the people in it, individually, want him to stay and be loved back. And the fact that one day he finds himself waking up to a world that while still full of hate and vitriol in places, clearly loves him back? Learning how to trust that. Isn't that what we all want?

So yeah, I said at the start of this I wasn't assigning Cale an identity, but you know what? Cale is Queer. Even if you believe or the author believes he is straight and cis and romance inclined, he has lived this experience of love being punished, so he is ours.

[jonaymrtnz]

✦ ANDRE LAMOGLIA, CIS MAN, HE-THEY✦ JONAY MARTINEZ the TWENTY SEVEN year old has been in willow’s edge for HIS NTIRE LIFE and was a FRIEND to JUNE, the deceased family. whispers on the streets are that the FREELANCE DESIGNER/EVENT PLANNER who lives in WILLOUGHBY COMPLEX are said to be CHARMING and SARDONIC but i guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

BASICS

full name: Joney Amor Martinez

nickname: JJ

age/date of birth: October 10th,

zodiac sign: libra ☼ cancer ☾ scorpio ↑

gender identity: cis man (he/they)

hometown: willowsedge

sexual orientation: click here

occupation: freelance designer/ event planner

height: 5'6

PERSONALITY

labels: the coquette, the erudite, the mediator

positive traits: reliable, caring, resourceful, pragmatic

negative traits: lazy, impatient, flirty,

hobbies: sewing, reading, acrobatics, cheer, poetry, photography, art

languages spoken: english, french, spanish, portuguese

favorite color: pink, purple, rose gold

favorite food: yes

allergies: people

tw: homophobia (spoilers, it was dani)

You lived a perfectly normal life, right? White picket fence fantasy, picture perfect family, a mother, a father, and you their son who was their entire world. For a bit there you had a great time, you really never thought much of the yelling matches between your parents or how the lights wouldn't be on somedays. As a child you never thought of that, you never had to worry as everything was meant to be provided, it was all meant to be okay, you'd be okay. Are you okay?

As you grew up you began to notice the cracks, how little by little your parents facade started to crumble, and then one day, your father was gone just like that. Not a word, not a letter, not even a simple goodbye. The cries from that bedroom still haunt you, but you began to hear whispers of how that same man had run off with some young waitress to start a new family somewhere else.

Ever since then you saw how your mother never smiled at you again. Her sullen look worried you and no matter how much you tried to make her happy, keep her peace of mind. You buried yourself in schoolwork and after school programs, whether it be cheer which you adored, being able to be thrown as one of the few make flyers and helping with the choreography. To helping the drama department with their costume shortage, you did everything you could to escape the place that was slowly becoming a hellscape.

And then it started, that one little crush on that boy, your friend i believe, and how you brought him over once to study, and that one study session kiss led to a storm in your home that ended with you being thrown out as your mother wouldn't allow her son to be that way. Even knowing she only had you to trap a man, one that fled from her as well.

Now you were in the streets, confused and alone and as you wandered around town, unsure of what to do a little light came your way. June. You had been friendly over the years, but as she saw the tears streaming down your face and how crestfallen you were, she couldn't ignore it. She kept you company brought you home, fed you, explained to her parents the situation and they let you spend the night.

From then on your friendship blossomed, twink and a redhead was the coined term for your duo. the videos, the tik toks, there's a stamp on the world forever for you both. She was the one who kept you safe for a bit, who gave you shelter when your world crumbled around you, and she was the one who was so happy when you finally found people who took you in, she cheered you on when you got that scholarship. You were each other's biggest cheerleaders, and now...she's gone.

[warwickroyals]

CHAPTER XLVIII: HARSH TRUTHS

Beginning | Previous | Next

Transcript under the cut - Click for HQ photos

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hate writing Louis's scenes! He's so hard to write. Doesn't help that he's basically gaslighting Phillip here

All likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thank you for the support 💜

[LOUIS] While I admire your conviction, my decision is final. The boy needs order and discipline, two

things he’s evidently been lacking for years. Despite whatever it is he might think, I’m doing what’s best for him. He’ll get leave and holidays, I’m not permanently separating him from his child or her. My only regret is not acting sooner.

[LOUIS] You’re still here.

[PHILLIP] We need to talk about James.

 [LOUIS] Why?

[PHILLIP] You know why.

[LOUIS] You may take a seat, Phillip.

[PHILLIP] I’d rather stand.

[PHILLIP] I had the most interesting conversation with Tatiana yesterday.

[LOUIS] I assume this is about why certain members of this family don’t know the true circumstances of James’s passing.

[PHILLIP] Certain members. I’m talking about his own children. And mine too, by the way, which—Thanks for that.

[LOUIS] None of my grandchildren know currently, nor will they ever know. The public narrative has proved sufficient.

[PHILLIP] I don’t care about whatever bullshit narrative you fed the public to protect your ego. I want to know the truth.

[LOUIS] It’s not about my image. You’re upset, I know James’s suicide left a mark on you in particular, but you have to understand: James spent most of his life hiding whatever it was that was tormenting him. He hid it flawlessly from the public, he hid it from his family semi-successfully, and when I realized that he could no longer go on hiding that side of him, he took his own life. I’ve probably taken years and years off my own life wondering why he did what or if it could have been prevented, but I still can’t make sense of it. In some ways, James’s tournament has become my own.

[LOUIS] If I can’t make sense of it, or even cope with this . . . horrible tragedy, what makes you think that a twenty-year-old child will? If Nicholas and Alexander knew the truth, everything they thought their father to be would be destroyed, it would be like killing him all over again. Especially for Nicholas, he wouldn’t know how to process that and remain. . . sane.

[PHILLIP] It’s not our right to hide this from them . . . I don’t know how to even explain this because you’re not going to listen.

[LOUIS] Whether you’re here for it or not, they will find out the truth and hate you for it. I don’t think you’re protecting anyone, you’re just preventing your grandchildren from properly grieving their father.

Do you honestly think their grief would have been easier to process had they known? Don’t be ridiculous, it would give them no comfort to know that their father shot himself in a drunken haze. How do you make sense of that? How can you rationalize—

[PHILLIP] Rationalize? How could you not rationalize any of this!? It’s the logical conclusion to what this family does to you! 

[PHILLIP] Everyone here is either miserable or gone. This family sucks the life out of you until you’re just a shell and then . . . and then it goes on. God help you if you have anything resembling human emotions once you’re in. You’ll be spat on, and laughed at, and profited off of, and harassed, and made to loathe every painful, hellish moment of your life.

[LOUIS] Of course you would find it reasonable, Phillip, you have a bent for self-destruction.

[PHILLIP] Don’t you dare do this shit to me! You’re not going to cast me as an over-emotional crazy this time. I’m trying to get better, I’m inching myself forward, I’m trying to protect the people I care about. I might not be a good person, but at least I’m better than you, I haven’t spent the past fifty years never facing the consequences of my actions.

[LOUIS] Oh, so you’re a reformed man now? Explain to me how gallivanting across the southern coast with a woman almost eleven years your junior is helping you inch forward. You’ve been saying “I’m trying” for your entire life, Phillip. You’re in no position to grandstand—

[IRENE] That’s enough, Louis.

[PHILLIP] Mama, you knew about this, too. You kept this from me.

[IRENE] Darling, you need to understand that we’re doing none of this out of malice. We only want to protect the children. You most of all have suffered terribly after James’s passing. You relapsed. Your marriage fell apart. Honestly, Phillip, what concerns me is your eagerness to have your own nephews join you in that suffering.

[PHILLIP] I get it. I really do, you two are in denial, but this is craziness.

[IRENE] When you were a baby, James was terribly jealous. He cried incessantly; the nannies told me he’d pinch you when they weren’t looking— [PHILLIP] Mom, stop—But the older you got, the sicker you grew with depression and anxiety, the more terrified James grew that something horrible would happen to you. He wanted so badly to protect you, and seeing you in pain hurt him more than he was willing to admit. Phillip, you knew this. Sometimes harsh realities do more harm than good.

[PHILLIP] You resent me. Both of you. You hate the fact that I’m still here and James isn’t.

[IRENE] Of course not. I love all my boys, but right now, you’re holding us back.

[PHILLIP] I’m holding you back by being honest?

[LOUIS] Look around, Phillip. It’s a truth no one wants to hear.

[victoriams]

ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴍᴀꜱᴋꜱ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴀᴋᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏɴᴇ.

lucy boynton . cis woman . she/her ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE ! that’s LIVINIA CRANE , the TWENTY-EIGHT year old GAMEMAKER from THE CAPITOL . they’ve been in the capitol around HER WHOLE LIFE , long enough to gain a reputation for being so POISED & OSTENTATIOUS . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character ISN’T part of the uprising )

STATISTICS

FULL NAME livinia diana crane

NICKNAMES liv, livi

DATE OF BIRTH may 26, 66th year

AGE twenty-eight

DISTRICT capitol

ROLE gamemaker

GENDER cis woman

ORIENTATION bisexual biromantic 

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS intelligent, poised, strategic

NEGATIVE TRAITS selfish, ostentatious, callous

MBTI intj-a – the architect

ENNEAGRAM type 1 – the reformer

MORAL ALIGNMENT lawful neutral

DEADLY SIN pride

HEAVENLY VIRTUE diligence

ZODIAC gemini

CHARACTER PARALLELS shiv roy, succession / claire, fleabag / natalie berzatto, the bear / madelyn stillwell, the boys / michaela pratt, how to get away with murder / blair waldorf, gossip girl / abigail armstrong, dance academy

RELATIONSHIPS

AUGUSTUS CRANE, SENIOR father

RHEA CRANE mother, deceased

AURELIUS CRANE older half-brother

AUGGIE CRANE older sister

MAXIM CRANE twin brother

PRIAM PLINTH husband

BIOGRAPHY

You do not come into this world alone.

Well, this isn't entirely true – you exist in the world for exactly twenty five minutes and thirty-nine seconds before your brother, your twin, your other half – Maxim, arrives, kicking and screaming and demanding your parents' attention. Unfortunately for both of you, two older siblings wait outside of your mother's delivery room, eagerly anticipating the arrival of their new baby brother and sister. They are the heir, Aurelius; and the spare, Auggie. What does that make you and Maxim? Little more than decorative ornaments, bodies to fill up space in the family portraits. Two extra names at the end of birthday cads. Two extra plates at dinner.

There are exactly three things all Crane children have in common – blonde hair, delicate features, and that you are trained to thrive on attention. You all learn to find it in different ways. Aurelius finds it wherever he goes – your father's firstborn, the only child with the genes of his beloved – he seems to do nothing and have everything. He even wins your mother's favour. He is strong, powerful, and disciplined. Your father says he will inherit the earth, one day. Auggie fluctuates between finding attention by being the perfect foot soldier, and by being a wrecking ball. Your father punishes this. When Auggie exists within the mould she has been assigned, your father promises great things. Promises her the kingdom, if Aurelius cannot take it. A step out of line, and she is charged with treason. Your father watches with an eagle eye – he dares her to defy him. She cannot get away with the things Aurelius does by being the golden child, nor what you do by being forgotten. You think it is the scraps of attention, of hope, that keep her coming back.

For you and Maxim, attention is much harder to come by. You're not sure whether your parents had even wanted any more children. They had their heir, their spare – and sometimes you think that Maxim and you had been unfortunate byproducts of an ill-fated tryst. You are never particularly close with either of your parents. Maybe they had loved each other, once, but by the time you are old enough to recognise it, any affection is long gone. You don't know why the wedge exists between them – maybe your mother could never live up to the woman she'd replaced. Or maybe your father resents the way she bleeds his resources dry. But, apparently, you remind him of her. Unlike Maxim and Auggie, you possess your mother's features. Her pointed nose, her pale face. Even her demeanour, to a certain extent. Your father resents you for this, and he fails to see you beyond a pale, and far less useful, imitation of the woman he'd married.

Your father may not be your father's daughter, but you are certainly your mother's. She tends to you like her own personal garden, sewing poisonous seeds that will forever be rooted in the back of your mind. She can never decide whether she loves or hates you; whether she wants to use you to correct her own mistakes, or send you down the same treacherous path out of spite. You had been a sweet child, once. You had loved dancing and music. You were afraid of the dark and monsters under your bed. You don't remember that girl now. Your mother said that softness wouldn't serve you in the long run, and so she eradicated it. She teaches you to look in the mirror and despise what you see – to strive for better. To starve and groom yourself until you can no longer be criticised. To hide your teeth behind a smile, to never display weakness. She tells you that you have started life at a disadvantage – that the only way you will ever make it in this world is through underhanded tricks and strategic alliances – nobody will ever give you anything for free.

You hunger for perfection. You hunger for her approval. You hunger for your father's love. You will always be hungry.

We would, of course, be remiss to talk about your childhood without mentioning your twin. Maxim exists by your side as a shadow. Save for your shared birthday and upbringing, you have little else in common. And yet, he is the person you feel closest to in the world. He is the only person who has ever existed on equal ground – looked at you, not as a competitor, or an asset, or a liability, but as a friend. He is also the only one who can see past the facade build. You had quickly learned that scrutiny hurts less when your exterior is made of stone. Easier to be criticised when you know the person they critique is a fabrication – made up, not you. Maxim sees through it, and, in turn, you see through his loud, blustering, careless charade. Maybe it really is a twin thing, or maybe you just both know how to craft yourselves into something you aren't. You both know how to identify the gaps in a structure and squeeze yourself into them. You become ice – cold, calculated, indifferent. Maxim becomes fire – warm, raucous, passionate.

You are married when you are twenty. It hadn't been your idea, but you go along with it nonetheless. At the time, you are your mother's only eligible daughter, and she seeks to secure your family's social and financial status with a neat little union. You won't get anywhere without a husband on your arm, Livinia. At the time, her words had felt like gospel. At the time, you had been a sickly, wretched thing – living off scraps of love and affection and little else. Begging simply to be seen, to fill the void inside of you. At the time, you think that maybe marriage will fix you. That it will satisfy the relentless hunger that has existed within you since you were a girl. Your mother seems to think that it will, anyway. Priam is a decent enough candidate – the second born son from a well-off family. He is a few years your senior, chivalrous and kind. He takes a position at your family's company along with your hand.

You are married, and yet you are still hungry. Garden parties and book clubs and gala dinners bore you. The idea of children nauseates you. You watch Priam go off to work each day and realise you have nothing to keep yourself occupied, you are alone in a big, beautiful, empty, dreadful house. Your parents have pushed you from one cage and into another – but you come to realise that they have forgotten to lock the door. Outside of their house, you feel more free than you ever have in your life. You may not have chosen Priam, and you are not sure if you will ever love him as you are supposed to, but he cares for you. He supports you. It is not something you have experienced before. Maybe you are selfish, but you cling to it, you consume it, like a ravenous creature. You cling not to your husband, or the vows you had made, but the sanctuary he provides, the way his doting makes you feel. You become more emboldened – dressing in different clothes, speaking your own mind. You enjoy things – not for others, but for yourself. And yet, freedom and affection do not satisfy your hunger.

You had never really given much thought to what the future held in store for you – part of you, buried and subdued, had always longed for greatness. That part of you had wanted the throne, but the more rational part of your mind knows it was never going to be yours. Your father and your siblings have made this abundantly clear. But, without the constant, overwhelming pressure to be the perfect daughter, you realise you want something. You have wasted your life hungering for attention, for respect, for love – but now you turn your appetite towards something more substantial – glory.

You take inspiration from your late uncle, and manage to secure yourself a role as an apprentice gamemaker. It is the perfect fit for somebody like you – so clinical, calculating, methodical. Your parents do not approve of the choice – your mother, because it does not follow the plan she had made for you; your father, because it is the job that had gotten his brother killed, that had cast a stain on your family's name for almost two decades. Where you once would have shrivelled, you hold firm. You rise through the ranks quickly – you become known not for your name, or your looks, or your husband, but for your skill, your intelligence, your wit. You think maybe this will be enough to satisfy the hunger, but it's not.

You taste greatness, and you want more, more, more. Come to think of it, maybe your siblings have four things in common. It is not in your natures to be satisfied.

[st-dorothy-minority]

Gohan Black AU - Incomplete WIP

So, I do want to make a separate post with the entire plot summary/outline for anyone interested to know, but in the meantime, here is what I'd gotten down so far for the start of it! This was started in October 2021, which feels like forever ago now.

This AU idea is dark, angsty, hurt/comfort galore due to PTSD Trunks and Cell, and has the OT3: Gohan/Trunks/Cell. I wrote a brief scene between Gohan Black and Cell that shows some of the brutality of Black, but I'll save that in a separate post too 😊

****

Altering the timeline was always a risk, but Trunks knew it was only a necessary one to take when things were most desperate. The first time was necessary for Goku to live; the next was defeating the androids, which didn’t go at all according to plan due to his initial manipulation of events. Instead of androids 17 and 18 posing a threat, it was Cell. But once Gohan defeated the latter, things were looking up for the future when he returned and was able to destroy each one of Gero’s creations in his own timeline. It was peaceful. The world rebuilt. Humanity pressed on and survived for several years.

Until him.

Believing the situation too dire to ignore and leave to fate, Trunks once again ventured back to ask for help. Upon arrival, he immediately felt nostalgic. Not much had changed, and it resembled the period of tranquility he had known for seven years after ridding the planet of the androids. He couldn’t restore his timeline this time on his own. He needed assistance from the most powerful warrior he knew.

“Trunks!” Bulma exclaimed happily as she rushed outside to find out the source of engine noise in the front yard. She nearly tackled him to the ground from running to hug him.

“Hey mom,” he greeted with a small laugh.

“It’s so good to see you! You’ve grown. And your hair!”

“Yeah, gone through some changes, you could say.”

“You’ve grown a lot in this timeline too! Little You is off playing with Goten right now, but I know he’ll be excited to meet you when he gets home.”

“Goten, huh?”

“Yes! Chi-Chi had him not long after you left. They’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since. And then Gohan being a big brother to you both,” she ended with a smile.

The mention of his mentor’s name instantly sent his heart into a flutter. “Speaking of Gohan, is he around? I need to talk to him.”

“He should be in school at the moment. I imagine he’ll swing by on his way home to see if Goten and Little You are here. It’s become a habit.”

“Ah great.”

“That’ll give us a chance to catch up! Lord knows where your father is right now, but he’ll be back in time for dinner.”

As she ushered her grown son inside, the butterflies of anxiety were beginning to mix with those of delighted anticipation to once again be face to face with Gohan. While he had connected and bonded with his mentor in the future, he felt an even stronger connection with him after spending time together in the lead up to the Cell Games. Gohan, whether as a pre-teen or adult, held an enormously special place in Trunks’ heart, one of deep respect and beloved friend. To be reunited with him, even if it was only for a few days, was something he would greatly cherish.

****

It was late afternoon when the front door burst open and childish laughter filled the area.

“Sounds like they’re home!” Bulma explained, getting up from the table. Trunks followed suit, and they both headed into the living room to discover two young boys running around the furniture and a teenage boy chasing them.

“Hey guys! We have company!”

The three stopped and turned, and the moment Trunks met Gohan’s eyes, he felt an instantaneous rush of admiration and affection for the now twenty-year-old Saiyan fighter. Even as Bulma introduced him to his child-self and Goten, Trunks was paralyzed as Gohan approached with the brightest smile he had ever seen.

“Good to see you, Trunks!” Gohan said chipperly. “What brings you back?”

“Well, I….” Trunks felt embarrassed for his inability to formulate a proper sentence. “I um….I need your help. Can we talk outside?”

Gohan, catching the underlying seriousness yet completely missing the other reason for the awkwardness, nodded and said, “Sure!”

“Hey mom, we’re going to take a walk. Be back in a bit.”

“Okay! Just make sure you’re back in time for dinner. Gohan, are you and Goten staying?”

“Nah, mom wants us home tonight,” Gohan replied with a smile. “I’ll be back to pick you up, Goten!”

The two kids had already returned to chasing one another, so it was no surprise Goten didn’t acknowledge the statement.

Heading into the front yard and strolling down the street to a nearby park, Gohan waited a minute before starting the conversation.

“Everything okay?”

“Not exactly.” “Don’t tell me more androids.”

“No, luckily no more androids. I was able to get rid of them and Cell before he could cause any real trouble.” He failed to notice the slight tenseness Gohan suddenly had at the mention of Cell’s name. “Things were really nice after that. Everyone rebuilt and the world was thriving….”

“But?”

They sat on a bench and Trunks clenched his hands into fists. The abrupt change in his mood severely worried Gohan.

“But then he came.”

Gohan quirked an eyebrow. “He?”

“It’s….You.”

This made Gohan’s eyes widen considerably. “Me?!”

“Not you exactly, but someone who looks just like you when you were my mentor and fighting to keep us safe from the androids. He calls himself Black, and he’s pure evil. He’s already destroyed countless planets, and now he’s come to Earth to slowly cleanse it of us mortals. That’s why I’ve come here again. To ask you for help. He’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen, far stronger than Cell. I knew if there was anyone who stood a chance against him with me, it’d be you.”

Gohan looked down at his hands nervously, the weight of the words sinking in. He’d been keeping up with regular training; however, if this person was enough to have Trunks this desperate again and wielding a higher power level than what Cell had, he doubted even his own abilities. Still, he couldn’t deny helping a friend in need.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked quietly.

“My mom still has Cell’s old time machine, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Since we both can’t fit into mine, I need you to take that one to come with me.”

“She hasn’t repaired it, though. It’s not functional.”

“Damn it,” Trunks cursed, gritting his teeth.

“I’m sure she could fix it up no problem. But it may take some time. Plus, if he’s as strong as you say, I feel like I might need to do some additional training.”

“Okay….I can probably hold him off for a few more months. That should be plenty of time, right?”

“Right.”

“I can leave the coordinates with you for when you’re ready since I might not make it back.”

“Just don’t die in the meantime, okay?” Gohan teased and playfully punched his shoulder to lighten the mood.

Trunks blushed slightly and smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

[dailyanneofgreengables]

Chapter 2: Matthew Cuthbert is Surprised (part 1)

Matthew Cuthbert and the sorrel mare jogged comfortably over the eight miles to Bright River. It was a pretty road, running along between snug farmsteads, with now and again a bit of balsamy fir wood to drive through or a hollow where wild plums hung out their filmy bloom. The air was sweet with the breath of many apple orchards and the meadows sloped away in the distance to horizon mists of pearl and purple; while

“The little birds sang as if it were

The one day of summer in all the year.”

Matthew enjoyed the drive after his own fashion, except during the moments when he met women and had to nod to them—for in Prince Edward island you are supposed to nod to all and sundry you meet on the road whether you know them or not.

Matthew dreaded all women except Marilla and Mrs. Rachel; he had an uncomfortable feeling that the mysterious creatures were secretly laughing at him. He may have been quite right in thinking so, for he was an odd-looking personage, with an ungainly figure and long iron-gray hair that touched his stooping shoulders, and a full, soft brown beard which he had worn ever since he was twenty. In fact, he had looked at twenty very much as he looked at sixty, lacking a little of the grayness.

When he reached Bright River there was no sign of any train; he thought he was too early, so he tied his horse in the yard of the small Bright River hotel and went over to the station house. The long platform was almost deserted; the only living creature in sight being a girl who was sitting on a pile of shingles at the extreme end. Matthew, barely noting that it was a girl, sidled past her as quickly as possible without looking at her. Had he looked he could hardly have failed to notice the tense rigidity and expectation of her attitude and expression. She was sitting there waiting for something or somebody and, since sitting and waiting was the only thing to do just then, she sat and waited with all her might and main.

Matthew encountered the stationmaster locking up the ticket office preparatory to going home for supper, and asked him if the five-thirty train would soon be along.

“The five-thirty train has been in and gone half an hour ago,” answered that brisk official. “But there was a passenger dropped off for you—a little girl. She’s sitting out there on the shingles. I asked her to go into the ladies’ waiting room, but she informed me gravely that she preferred to stay outside. ‘There was more scope for imagination,’ she said. She’s a case, I should say.”

“I’m not expecting a girl,” said Matthew blankly. “It’s a boy I’ve come for. He should be here. Mrs. Alexander Spencer was to bring him over from Nova Scotia for me.”

The stationmaster whistled.

“Guess there’s some mistake,” he said. “Mrs. Spencer came off the train with that girl and gave her into my charge. Said you and your sister were adopting her from an orphan asylum and that you would be along for her presently. That’s all I know about it—and I haven’t got any more orphans concealed hereabouts.”

“I don’t understand,” said Matthew helplessly, wishing that Marilla was at hand to cope with the situation.

“Well, you’d better question the girl,” said the station-master carelessly. “I dare say she’ll be able to explain—she’s got a tongue of her own, that’s certain. Maybe they were out of boys of the brand you wanted.”

He walked jauntily away, being hungry, and the unfortunate Matthew was left to do that which was harder for him than bearding a lion in its den—walk up to a girl—a strange girl—an orphan girl—and demand of her why she wasn’t a boy. Matthew groaned in spirit as he turned about and shuffled gently down the platform towards her.

She had been watching him ever since he had passed her and she had her eyes on him now. Matthew was not looking at her and would not have seen what she was really like if he had been, but an ordinary observer would have seen this: A child of about eleven, garbed in a very short, very tight, very ugly dress of yellowish-gray wincey. She wore a faded brown sailor hat and beneath the hat, extending down her back, were two braids of very thick, decidedly red hair. Her face was small, white and thin, also much freckled; her mouth was large and so were her eyes, which looked green in some lights and moods and gray in others.

So far, the ordinary observer; an extraordinary observer might have seen that the chin was very pointed and pronounced; that the big eyes were full of spirit and vivacity; that the mouth was sweet-lipped and expressive; that the forehead was broad and full; in short, our discerning extraordinary observer might have concluded that no commonplace soul inhabited the body of this stray woman-child of whom shy Matthew Cuthbert was so ludicrously afraid.

Matthew, however, was spared the ordeal of speaking first, for as soon as she concluded that he was coming to her she stood up, grasping with one thin brown hand the handle of a shabby, old-fashioned carpet-bag; the other she held out to him.

“I suppose you are Mr. Matthew Cuthbert of Green Gables?” she said in a peculiarly clear, sweet voice. “I’m very glad to see you. I was beginning to be afraid you weren’t coming for me and I was imagining all the things that might have happened to prevent you. I had made up my mind that if you didn’t come for me to-night I’d go down the track to that big wild cherry-tree at the bend, and climb up into it to stay all night. I wouldn’t be a bit afraid, and it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry-tree all white with bloom in the moonshine, don’t you think? You could imagine you were dwelling in marble halls, couldn’t you? And I was quite sure you would come for me in the morning, if you didn’t to-night.”

Matthew had taken the scrawny little hand awkwardly in his; then and there he decided what to do. He could not tell this child with the glowing eyes that there had been a mistake; he would take her home and let Marilla do that. She couldn’t be left at Bright River anyhow, no matter what mistake had been made, so all questions and explanations might as well be deferred until he was safely back at Green Gables.

“I’m sorry I was late,” he said shyly. “Come along. The horse is over in the yard. Give me your bag.”

“Oh, I can carry it,” the child responded cheerfully. “It isn’t heavy. I’ve got all my worldly goods in it, but it isn’t heavy. And if it isn’t carried in just a certain way the handle pulls out—so I’d better keep it because I know the exact knack of it. It’s an extremely old carpet-bag. Oh, I’m very glad you’ve come, even if it would have been nice to sleep in a wild cherry-tree. We’ve got to drive a long piece, haven’t we? Mrs. Spencer said it was eight miles. I’m glad because I love driving. Oh, it seems so wonderful that I’m going to live with you and belong to you. I’ve never belonged to anybody—not really. But the asylum was the worst. I’ve only been in it four months, but that was enough. I don’t suppose you ever were an orphan in an asylum, so you can’t possibly understand what it is like. It’s worse than anything you could imagine. Mrs. Spencer said it was wicked of me to talk like that, but I didn’t mean to be wicked. It’s so easy to be wicked without knowing it, isn’t it? They were good, you know—the asylum people. But there is so little scope for the imagination in an asylum—only just in the other orphans. It was pretty interesting to imagine things about them—to imagine that perhaps the girl who sat next to you was really the daughter of a belted earl, who had been stolen away from her parents in her infancy by a cruel nurse who died before she could confess. I used to lie awake at nights and imagine things like that, because I didn’t have time in the day. I guess that’s why I’m so thin—I am dreadful thin, ain’t I? There isn’t a pick on my bones. I do love to imagine I’m nice and plump, with dimples in my elbows.”

[fenrirswoodhq]

+ 3 wanted connections.

JAIME WIJNEN (our PETER GADIOT) is looking for their FORMER GUARDIAN / PARENTAL FIGURE. They’re a 55+ YEAR OLD WEREWOLF, who looks like UTP (FCOC and/or DIVERSE ONLY). You CAN / DO NOT need to approach the player.

Your muse would have been an alpha at the time of Jaime's turning (twenty years ago) and agreed to take him in when none of his extended family could help. They became the parental figure Jaime lacked and all that Jaime knows about the pack is because of this individual. Their backstory and whether they are the other Fenrir alpha or retired is entirely utp (check the main to see if the spot is still available) so please get creative!

JAIME WIJNEN (our PETER GADIOT) is looking for their MENTEE. They’re a 25+ YEAR OLD WEREWOLF, who looks like UTP (FCOC and/or DIVERSE ONLY). You CAN / DO NOT need to approach the player.

Jaime took in your muse after they wandered into Fenrirwood with a fresh bite, took them under his wing and has been showing them the ropes of the pack ever since. Their backstory and when your muse arrived in town is entirely utp but it'd be interesting to have a wolf that is rejecting / having difficulty accepting the change. I love a bit of drama so feel free to spice up their story or reach out to discuss your ideas if your unsure !!

JAIME WIJNEN (our PETER GADIOT) is looking for their EX - WIFE. They’re a 36+ YEAR OLD HUMAN, who looks like AMBER STEVENS-WEST , MONICA RAYMUND or UTP (FCOC ONLY). You DO need to approach the player.

Jaime and your muse went to high school together and were friends for some time but after graduation, they began dating. Within a few years, they were married, expecting their first child and attempting to navigate adult life. Yet their happiness couldn't bury the secrets he kept from your muse regarding his past, what he was and the pack he'd soon lead. Just three years ago, your muse found a box of journals that detailed Jaime's life and the change he had gone through. After the confrontation, your muse took their two children, filed for divorce and left Fenrirswood purely out of fear of the unknown. They've since worked through this conflict for their children but I can imagine there are still some unresolved feelings that go along with lying and dishonesty. Why, and when your muse returned to Fenrirswood is entirely up to you but I am happy to brainstorm / discuss any other ideas you have !!

[beingblackinamerica]

I think that the order you're born in has a large impact on one's identity whether they notice it or not. As I said before, you grow with your parents and as the oldest child I have a sense of maturity that none of my siblings have. I think this is because as the oldest you are setting the foundation for expectations and you are giving that first experience to your parents. There is an age gap between me and all of my siblings of at least 5 years so the methods and things that my Mom would have time to do with me, my younger siblings don’t have. My mom had me in her early twenties, and being that she wasn't full in her career she had time and fewer responsibilities to do things with me. Whereas for my brother, she is now in a career, has bills, and more responsibilities so there is less free time and attention that he is receiving. That is why when someone in the class said younger siblings have more freedom I didn't fully agree because I don't think the rules and expectations for each child change I just think the amount of attention they receive is less of a factor as parents and children age. That said, I think that is why many older siblings feel like they “raised” their younger siblings. I don't blame my mom for going to work or pursuing her aspirations, because I know she made many sacrifices for me growing up. It was definitely annoying having to take my brother with me to the movies or when I would go out with friends but looking back it wasn't as big of a deal as I made it to be. Even going off to college, I felt a sense of guilt for going away knowing that he would be at home himself. Since I have been gone has received more attention (because he's the only one at home with my mom) but it's more critical and definitely different from the way that I grew up.  - Kileyah

[holyt3rrains]

a letter to my mother | ch 1 |

Mama,  

I always call you by that name, but I stopped feeling that emotional connection to you as a daughter years ago.

It feels as if there’s only so much I can express from memories that revolve around your absence in my growing years. I’ve gone back so many times in writing this letter to you. The feelings in these sentences seem to repeat themselves, just in different ways. I found it redundant.

But I wonder why,, at my age of twenty two, after years of slowly distancing myself from you and now surrounded by family and friends that nourish me with love, I suddenly feel this broken feeling that I should’ve felt years ago. Why could I feel my eyes tearing up while writing this?

I hear and read all these stories from people retelling their relationship with their mothers, all recounting moments with them throughout their childhood, good and bad.I could never really relate.

Would it be strange of me to say how envious I felt as I heard or read these stories?

I ask myself why I should feel envy. In truth, as a single father for most of my childhood, papa had raised me with so much love. Even when we did argue, which was rarely, even if I have felt misunderstood, when I look back, I could  at least always say he truly has loved me unconditionally. Not many children who grow up with their single fathers can say that.

But what is it about the absence of a mother to a daughter that troubles me so?

You were never really there throughout my formative years. My visits to Florida to see you were always a few times a year. Things have always been superficial between you and I.

I have never felt that I could be open with you, and you have never been open with me. And yet even with the distance already created, whether by you or me, intentionally or unintentionally, I find that the child within me longs for the nurturing love of a mother, the adolescent struggles longs for the guidance only a mother could seem to solve.

I think we both have always heard each other, but never listened. Is it worth sitting down now to actually listen to each other? How would that change our relationship? Would that somehow mend the emotional strain I feel with you? Would that start building a bridge of reconciliation and forgiveness?

Or would this just be the last conversation I have with you, this building up of so many emotions and countless questions. The dam finally exploding.

Yet as I reconcile with what it means to be a woman in this society, and more so a mother, do I perhaps feel that this was unfair to me and you? Much of how our relationship came to be is due to the consequences of your own actions.

Still, I think I never really saw you as your own person, but only a mother. I have never known your struggles, aspirations, even your life before being a mother. It's as if once a woman had children, her life before is a far away remnant. If you do happen to learn something about her before your birth, it's from the mouths of other family members. She almost never gets to tell her own story anymore.

So as I’ve come to learn about your life before me from Tita, it seems the phrase “history repeats itself” can be applied to family history as well. There’s a cycle of strained relationships within our family. A pattern of death being a catalyst that further strains familial relationships.

How your father seemed to disappear from the lives of his family and yours after his mother died. How you seemed to have cut off ties with our family friends in Michigan after Vero died. Somehow straining our relationship as well.

I never even truly knew how you felt after Vero’s death. A friend to you, a sister even. How much did it affect you?

I don’t know what else to write, really. There’s so many “what if” questions in my mind pertaining to our relationship as mother and daughter.Most of my thoughts expressed in this letter deal with my dilemma of whether or not it's worth healing our bond.

If the only thing from you that has influenced who I am today is the trauma of your absence, is there any value in my longing for a better relationship with you?

I don’t know, but still I wonder, does your heart ever long to be close to mine again?

[univemma]

It’s just three words.

Adrian Chase x Reader

"I don't need three little words to prove that. I just like saying it, he doesn't care."

"Okay, so don't. I bet he'd lose it if you stopped - he'd care about the three little words then, huh?"

- A bet gone wrong has Adrian losing his mind, as both he and Y/N underestimate how much those three little words mean to him.

Word Count: 3,517

-

A/N: I’ve been writing fanfics for years but never actually posted any, I think this is like C-tier writing at best but if i don’t post now I feel like I never will, so here we go! Feedback is appreciated, just don’t be a dick lmaooo

Also I guess this is a SLIGHT AU, where taking down the butterflies just took longer than what we saw in the show - just so this fic takes place without interfering with canon events. SO yeah, enjoy :)

It was a slow day in HQ, John was in the back typing away at a laptop while keeping tabs on Judomaster, Adrian was away doing whatever the fuck he was doing (they actually had no clue, and that's never a good sign), and Murn and Adebayo were off doing some research for the mission, while the other three were left to their own devices, for better or for worse. In this case, for worse, since Chris seemed keen to imitate a talk show host and interrogate Y/N about their relationship with Adrian.

"I mean, seriously, it's just mind blowing someone actually likes the little nerd enough to date him, especially having known what he was like in high school?! You're a trooper, dude, seriously," Y/N continued typing away with a somewhat subtle eye roll, locking eyes briefly with Harcourt over their computers, "you're a trooper, I mean that."

"And you're a grade-A dick, Chris."

"Thank you." After dodging a few pens tossed in his direction, Chris leaned back in his chair with his feet on Harcourt's desk, a smug smile conveying just how pleased he was with himself. "But seriously, how the hell did you two get together?" he merely received a shrug in response.

"It's none of your business, frankly, and Harcourt, you don't have to look so amused, you're only encouraging the bitch." Harcourt shook her head, clearly biting back a smile. "What? Are you curious too?"

"I'm not encouraging anything, I just...Have you told him you love him yet?" With wide eyes, Y/N very deliberately nodded.

"Of course I have, we've been dating for years."

"Alright, I just wasn't sure - you guys seem very honeymoon phase." While speaking she glanced at Chris before harshly kicking his feet off her desk, ignoring his quiet whine of complaint. "And honestly, I didn't think Adrian was capable of uttering those words to anyone other than dude perfect over here." 

Y/N shrugged, "That's because he hasn't, Adrian doesn't care about saying it, it's just how he is." Both Harcourt and Chris turned to stare at them immediately. 

"You're joking." "I didn't think he was that emotionally stunted holy shit, are you kidding?" Y/N continued working casually, barely glancing upwards at the two comically shocked faces staring back.

"I don't need him to tell me what I already know, what he already demonstrates every day - he thinks the words are pointless and I don't care whether he says it or not." 

"You seriously don't care?"

"He makes his feeling extraordinarily clear every day, I don't need three little words to prove that. I just like saying it, he doesn't care." Chris' eyes seemed to light up and he shrugged in his seat.

"Okay, so don't. I bet he'd lose it if you stopped - he'd care about the three little words then, huh?" Y/N scoffed and checked their watch, swiftly closing their laptop as they stood.

"I doubt that, I told you, Adrian doesn't give a shit whether I say it or not." Chris raised his eyebrows, glancing briefly at Harcourt.

"Well prove it, go for...say, a week, and don't say it at all - I bet he won't last a day." 

"You're a child-"

"Are you just too afraid to admit you're wrong? C'mon, I bet you twenty bucks." Sighing as they packed up their things, Y/N shrugged. 

"Whatever, I'll be twenty bucks richer next Sunday because as long as I don't act any different, he won't even notice." They grabbed their bag, swinging it over their shoulder and heading swiftly towards the back exit, responding quickly to Chris' "We'll see about that!" with a middle finger over the shoulder.

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

It was about eleven that night, Y/N was laying in bed with Adrian chatting animatedly to them from where he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, despite having a mouth full of toothpaste. At this point, Y/N couldn't even figure out what he was saying, merely nodding along and speaking the occasional word of encouragement. 

"I mean, really, what the fuck kinda privilege do cicadas have, contributing to all that noise pollution and receiving no legal push back? Really I should be killing them, fuck the human criminals - they're the real cretins, am I right, babe?" Y/N tuned back in just then, deciding just to nod at him despite their confusion.

"Yeah, you get those cicadas, babe." 

Soon enough, Adrian made his way over, not-so-gently dropping his glasses on his bedside table and turning off the lights as he crawled under the covers. Ten minutes and their usual "stop stealing the blankets!" discussion later, they were settled, a comfortable tangle of limbs in the darkness of their bedroom. Adrian mumbled out a quiet "Goodnight." after a particularly dramatic yawn, and Y/N repeated it back to him before tugging him closer and resting their head on his chest. 

What. 

Adrian opened his eyes and stared up at his slightly blurry ceiling.

Usually, every night, Y/N would respond with, "Night, love you," before they fell asleep - one time they even woke back up just to be able to say it to him, and yet, now it was... just "Goodnight."? Adrian reasoned with himself for a moment - it was pretty late, maybe they just forgot, and they were tired. Besides, it was just three words, he'd live to see tomorrow without them. Closing his eyes once more, Adrian barely spared it a thought more than that, and went to sleep. It was fine.

The next morning, as an actual official member of the task force (unlike Adrian), Y/N was stumbling around the apartment getting ready, thanks to an early morning wake up call from Harcourt calling them into HQ, in which she hung up before Y/N could even negotiate just five more minutes in bed with Adrian. With their shirt half buttoned, they huffed and gathered all they needed under their arm, disappearing from the bedroom to put on their shoes by the front door. Lying on his side, Adrian raised up on his elbow as they walked back in, grinning brightly upwards as they kissed him, stroked his hair a little, and called out "Bye, see you later!" over their shoulder as they left the room.

Adrian stared at their retreating form with furrowed eyebrows and listened for the front door to close before flipping back over to look at the still-blurry ceiling once more. Were they mad at him? Just like last night, they didn't say their usual "I love you" before work, did he do something? They weren't acting any different, after work last night they'd ordered in dinner and watched a movie, nothing too unusual. They talked about the usual things, they laughed at his constant nonsense commentary of the movie they watched, and they even did their usual excited exclaim when he announced he wasn't going out as Vigilante that night, crossing the kitchen in a few swift steps to hug him playfully, pressing small kisses to his jaw. 

Something he'd later realise to be dread settled deep in Adrian's stomach, but he shoved it down. They were in a rush, they probably just forgot. One time he was rushing and didn't say a single word to them before leaving, and he came home to them sheepishly asking if he was mad at them - it was a very confusing conversation but they settled the misunderstanding quickly, this was probably the exact same thing. They were fine. It was fine.

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

It was very much not fine, Adrian quickly decided, as the days went on and he grew to realise just how often he heard those three little words, and how maybe they weren't just three little words after all. The day after the lack of the morning "I love you" was followed by an exact repeat, with the day only seeming to get worse. 

Having once again been confined to their desk all day, Y/N was texting Adrian quite frequently about how bored they were, being the only one in the office that day, they couldn't even annoy Chris or goad him into doing something stupid since, once again, the others were out doing mission stuff. And so, Adrian came up with a plan - Y/N always, without a doubt, said they loved him if he gave them something. It was pretty cute, actually, a habit from when they were no more than kids gifting rocks to each other, something that had sneaked its way with them into adulthood. And so, Adrian entered through the back exit of HQ with freshly bought lunch for Y/N in hand, once again, not something uncommon enough to alert them to his concern, he did it every now and then, as did they. It was just a friendly, well, boyfriendly gesture. 

He entered quietly, walking softly as he approached their desk from behind, sneaking up to drop the bag on their desk and gently place his now-empty hands on their shoulders with a quiet, "Hi.", as they flinched. Adrian laughed at that, leaning down to press a kiss to their shoulder.

Having gotten past the brief shock, Y/N spun in their chair with a fond smile, pushing themselves up to kiss his cheek and muttering a quiet "Thank you," against his skin before sitting back down. And that was it. The next moment they were reaching over to pull out a chair for him beside them, asking questions about his day, if he had any ideas they could have for dinner that night, if he wanted to watch one of his favourite shows later - all the usual things. And yet he felt so inexplicably sick. It was just three tiny words he didn't even believe held any power, so why did he feel like throwing up? 

It only got worse from there. For the next week they didn't say it before bed or in the mornings, or when he dropped off their lunch or they dropped off his. They didn't say it if they showed up during his shift at work and they didn't even say it randomly, something they'd mentioned was their favourite way of saying it.

They were watching a movie one night, Adrian draped across the couch with his head in their lap while they ever so gently played with his hair - his personal definition of heaven. Eventually he turned to look at them, meeting their gaze - a scene so familiar as they leaned down to kiss him despite the strange angle. But instead of the usual, "i love you", he received a different three words - "You're so cute.", as they turned back nonchalantly to watch the movie on the screen. Adrian followed suit, no longer watching, only observing, entirely wrapped up in his own thoughts. 

What the fuck. Why weren't they saying it - more importantly, why did he care so much - even more importantly WHY WEREN'T THEY SAYING IT? Adrian really hated this whole thing - it was just three fucking words why did he suddenly care so much? Maybe he should talk to the others? Adebayo was married, she'd probably have good advice with this kinda thing. But he really didn't want to talk about this with her, he'd known her, what, a week? Harcourt was mean and would probably just tell him to fuck off, and Economos and Murn likely wouldn't give him the time of day. Maybe Chris could help? Adrian was about a second away from sighing before remembering he was currently in their lap, containing it and forcing himself to at least try to focus on the movie. 

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

It all came to a head on Saturday night, Adrian could've sworn he was going mad - well, madder, if his teammates' comments about him were accurate. They were sitting at the kitchen counter chatting idly as they ate dinner, having made the meal together earlier. It was so normal, a completely average night for them and yet just the lack of those three words stung Adrian more than any knife wound, gunshot, punch, kick, or whatever other wound he'd ever gotten. Eventually he felt too hot, like he was suffocating in his own head, and dropped his plate into the sink before making his way to the bedroom.

"I'm gonna go get ready, you know, Vigilante." Y/N nodded and continued eating their food, and Adrian hesitated in the doorway.

"Y/N...?" They looked up, smiling while trying not to drop the contents of their fork.

"Yeah, baby?" He hesitated, feet tapping absently on the apartment floor.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not? Should I be?" Their head tilted slightly before Adrian shook his own in response, smiling faintly.

"Nah, just...like to check in." He closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving the apartment donned in his Vigilante suit not ten minutes later.

Maybe an hour later Y/N was typing away at some work on their laptop when their phone rang, answering it with a glance. Chris' voice rang around the apartment as he proudly called out.

"Guess who owes me twenty bucks?"

"I'm assuming Adrian or Leota, you usually challenge them to stupid bets." He snorted on the other end of the line, they could almost imagine the smirk on his face if his voice was any indication.

"Uh no, it's you, stupid." Y/N contained an eye roll and glanced at the date on their laptop.

"Incorrect, I just have to keep this up until tomorrow afternoon and you will be the one who owes me twenty bucks, because Adrian is yet to notice anything." They flinched slightly as his clearly over exaggerated laugh came through. "Christopher that is the fakest laugh I've ever heard, you sound like someone is choking a Dachshund." 

"Are you kidding me? He's more than noticed, he was sulking in the office today - yeah, real mood killer - and when I asked him about it he told me how you stopped saying you loved him," Y/N could've swore they felt their heart stop, "seemed real upset with himself for it, too, dude's got issues."

"I gotta go, Chris."

"What? What do you-"

Fuck. Of course he'd fucking noticed, and by the sounds of things it was fucking killing him. They knew he was acting weird earlier but chopped it up to him being excited to go out on patrol, it was always a toss up whether his Vigilante-induced excitement made him act extra exuberant, or extra quiet, Y/N just figured it was the latter. They quickly tried to call him, only to go straight to voicemail - nothing unusual for a night out as Vigilante, so they sent a short text asking if he knew when he'd be home - only to receive no response. 

They sat fidgeting for hours, switching between frantically pacing the apartment, forcing themselves to sit still on the couch which was far too empty for their liking, pacing again, trying to distract themselves, pacing again, and trying not to cry. Shit, of course he'd noticed, they just didn't think he'd care. Of course he fucking cared, he probably thought they were planning some big break up behind his back!

They were perched on a stool at the kitchen counter when they were startled by the sound of the bedroom window shutting softly, turning in their seat to watch Adrian appear in the bedroom doorway, mask still on. A brief once over from across the room at least reassured Y/N that he wasn't injured.

"Adrian-"

"I love you."

They fell dead silent at that, mouth agape as they stared at each other. He never said it, god they'd really fucked up. And why did he have to have the mask on, it made this so much worse. Adrian inhaled shakily, a noise so loud in the deathly quiet apartment. They hated that, their apartment was always loud - either Adrian was talking to himself, or to them, mouth going a mile a minute in an attempt to convey every racing thought in his head, or it was a movie playing on the TV, mostly forgotten as they laughed at each other over random things on the couch, either way, it was never this quiet, or tense. 

"I...Do you..." He looked down a little, almost as though psyching himself up before straightening up. "Do you still love me?" His voice cracked at about the same time their heart did. They'd never seen him like this before, in all the years they'd known each other. Fueled mostly by their own guilt, Y/N hopped off the stool and walked over, gently tugging the mask from his face and trying to ignore her painfully squirming insides as they raised their eyes to meet his own, slightly red rimmed ones. Their own eyes filled with tears and they surged forward, hugging him close. He was so stiff during the hug and they hated knowing they were the cause of it, pulling back and holding his face in their hands.

"Adrian I am so sorry-" They realised pretty quickly that was the exact worse possible way they could've began as his eyes widened and he began to pull away, only failing as they gently grabbed one of his arms. 

"I love you, Adrian. I love you, I love you, and I'll say it a million more times if you'll just let me explain because I promise, it's not what you think." He looked relieved but still on edge, as though not quite believing them, but followed nonetheless as they tugged him over to sit on the edge of their bed. He was quiet, dead silent as they explained everything, and it was the worst part about it because Adrian Chase was never silent, and Y/N tried so desperately to fill the void in an attempt to fix it.

"And I swear, I swear to you, honey, I didn't think you'd care - or even notice. If I'd have known it would hurt you like this I never would've agreed to the bet because-" they gently held his face again, his eyes shining up at them behind his glasses. "-I love you, so, so, so much." 

He smiled at that, a little, and pulled them into his lap as he tenderly held them close against him, tucking his head against their chest, so Y/N could rest their chin on the top of his head as they whispered, "I'm so sorry, Adrian." He shrugged a little against their warm hold on him, speaking softly among the silence.

"It's okay, I was kinda overreacting." They shook their head.

"No, you weren't, and I'm really sorry." He pulled back a little to look at them, sniffling a little while he stared, eyes flitting frantically around their face. He looked down at their hands and intertwined one with his own, his other resting on the small of their back.

"I always said it didn't matter, if we said it out loud, because it didn't. Because I don't need words to tell me you love me when you prove it. When you sit and watch reruns of shows with me, and you put up with me talking for so long when usually people give up after minutes." They smiled and pushed some of his hair back from his face.

"Yeah, and like how you remember my favourite foods or drinks, and when you take photos of random things on patrol because you think they'll make me smile." Adrian nodded up at them, face breaking out into a small smile.

"Like the dog."

"Yeah, like the dog. He did make me smile."

"I know he did. It was a really pretty smile too." He sat up a bit straighter, resting their foreheads together as he stared at them. Adrian always stared a lot, and most people usually tried to make him stop, but Y/N loved it - it was as though he was so enamored he couldn't even take his eyes off them sometimes. He looked down at their hands again before looking back up, whispering almost too quiet to hear.

"I love you." Y/N could've flinched it shocked them so much.

"I love you too, Adrian." He hummed and buried his face against their shoulder.

"It won't hurt me to say it every now and then...It makes me happy hearing you say it, so..." He shrugged in an attempt to make the statement seem like nothing. But it wasn't, it was closer to everything than it was to nothing. Y/n nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Okay." He nodded too, and they sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Y/N gently stroking his hair while his hand ran softly up and down their back, moonlight streaming in through the window - not quite hitting them, just barely shining on Adrian's lower half, as though hesitant to interfere in the moment. Eventually, Y/N gently tapped the back of his head.

"Hey, Adrian?" He hummed in acknowledgement. "I love you."

Adrian smiled. 

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

A/N: I feel like this is kinda ooc? Thoughts? lmaoo

[husbandohunter]

Your Stardew Impact has given me a serious brainrot and I couldn’t sleep on it so here

Imagine the boys getting Isekai to Stardew and meeting their (soon-to-be) s/o a.k.a the farmer who found them in the mines and dragged them out.

It’s basically the same as the original but the reader lives in Stardew universe from the beginning.

The Outlanders who trespassed the Stars [Stardew Valley + Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: You were a simple farmer who lived a simple life before crossing paths with these outlanders. A tale of greetings and farewells tells a story that loving someone was like looking at the stars in the sky; a sense of warmth amidst darkness, where the dots connect no matter what distance it was. But just like stars, they were meant to be unobtainable.

(Basically what happens if the boys get Isekai'd)

Genre: fluff, angst (faceapalm didn't mean to)

Characters: Childe, Xiao, Zhongli

(A/n): Hi anon, haha I didn't think the Stardew Impact series would be this enjoyable. Allow me to serve your brainrot. But just for future references there is a character limit! Also it long, a pro tip to use ctrl+F and type in the name :>

======================

~Childe's Story~

The day you met Childe was perhaps during the most fortunate yet unfortunate hour of your life.

Winter comes by, your fields were left dry, what else was there to do other than mining? You were aiming to build a new Barnhouse before summer comes, fishing only made average income thus you decided to take your pickaxe and hope to run into some diamonds, gold or even better: prismatic shards. However, expensive items could only be found in the deepest parts of the mountains, where dangerous monsters lurk by.

When peeking over the abandoned minecart you so carefully shielded yourself with, you began contemplating whether you've just dug yourself a grave instead. The whole area became infested, you weren't in the best condition and on top of all that, you were out of food.

You decided to make a run for it, with the treasures and goodies at hand, you couldn't give up. However, things only got worse when purple mist began taking over your vision, signaling a lava bat wave drawing nigh. It was thanks to your greed that you ended in such a predicament but it was also your greed that brought you to him.

"W-Woah!!"

You tripped with your toe pointing downwards into a pile of wooden crates. The bats swarmed in shortly after, daunting around the area above but you couldn't afford to look. Your face was down to the ground and you could only rely on your ears regarding their whereabouts. As if Yoba heard your prayers, the lava bats could not seem to find you, confusing them to think you've escaped. And so, they flew away.

"I'm never doing that again," The sudden impact was excruciating, you were sure that your lip bled due to biting too hard. At least the floor felt somewhat soft, cotton-like and warm enough to be comforting. Yet, for some reason it was also a little…bony?

"…Mn…."

Your body jerks up like a springboard when you felt something shifting. A man, no older than his twenties, no older than you, lays sprawled out under your form. He was beginning to stir and you panicked when a pair of blue cerulean eyes pointed into your seemingly shocked ones within the close parameter.

Too close.

The man gives a cheerfully wry chuckle, you could practically feel his breath almost, "Well this is quite unexpected, didn't think I'd end up in this position," he jests, soon his expression began to tighten into a grimace, "Mind getting off me though? With all due respect miss, you're a little-…heavy."

You scrambled to the side while still kneeling, "What the hell, who are you?!"

"Hm," The man didn't answer, instead he pushed himself upright and turned his attention to examine the surroundings, "Where are we?" He paused when he noticed how the ceiling was made of rocks, "Wait, is this a cave?"

"Ninety two floors deep and surrounded by monsters," you sighed in frustration while rubbing your head with your palm, "Seriously, whoever you are you shouldn't be here, especially if you're not even carrying the necessary supplies."

"Hey, I just got here. I'm just as confused as you," he puts his hands up in a defensive gesture, "But how strange," he mutters to himself, lowering his arms ever so slightly before pinching his chin in deep thought, "I swear it was the right portal…or maybe it was the other one? Hmmm, could it be the effect of the hidden seal?"

I have so many questions. You sweatdropped nervously. Here you were, hours spent to get to the deepest parts of the earth and looking like a cavewoman while his clothes were practically untouched, nor did they seem to be a recognizable fashion. You've seen many odd events within Stardew Valley but not to this extent, "Alright you know what, let's forget about it for now. We need to get out of here before those lava bats come back for us again. Otherwise we're toast," you gestured to the lava pool, "Literally."

He gave another one of his gleeful smiles, you wondered if he was afraid at all, "Sounds like a solid plan to me. Judging by the equipment you're wearing, you seem to have been here for a while. You know your way around?"

Figures that he doesn't know, you thought, "I'll lead."

"Glad we're on the same page. Though, we've only just met and yet you're still willing to help a stranger like me," he mentions in an off-handed manner, perhaps he wasn't used to generosity ever since being recruited as a harbinger, "But not that I'm complaining. You have my thanks, comrade."

"(Y/n)," you tell him, "That's my name. I'm a farmer that resides in this town."

"I see. A town it is then," he inquires, "Call me Childe, as where I'm from, not sure how to answer that anymore."

"What do you-"

But before you were able to question him further, a hoard of lava crabs were spotted crawling it's way towards where Childe sat. He shot you a confused look and turned to the direction, amusement sparks in his eyes,

"Lava crabs? You've got to be kidding me," your arms have already grown tired long ago, at this rate, you figured it may be best to pay a visit to Harvey's doctor office and check up for any muscle strains that have occured during the process. You most likely have considered how heavy your items felt now. Partaking in another battle would only make it worse.

"Ah an opponent, to think this place wouldn't have a set of new monsters to fight. I was growing tired of beating up hilichurls all the time."

His casual reaction caused you to scrunch up your nose in disbelief, "We're being ganged up on and your first response was that???"

Childe paid no mind, instead he propelled himself back to his feet using his trained reflexes and swaggered towards the crowd, "Relax girlie," Stopping just after a few steps, he turns his head ajar over his shoulder with a floppy smirk spreading his lips, "I've got this."

You held in your breath, wondering if you could trust this man. For now all you could do was sit back and hopefully regain some of your strength while observing by the stacks of crates that were abandoned years ago. The lava crabs formed a straight line in front of him, they were smart creatures, cornering their prey in a very well strategized form so that trespassing was out of the question. Childe wasn't intimidated in the slightest, he merely looked down at them with hooded eyes, flexing his fingers for preparation.

"Lava crab…in other words you're of the pyro element," the harbinger holds out his hand in front of him, trying to cultivate the shape of his bow, "A shame. This fight would end much shorter than I anticipated."

However, when he expected his element to manifest, nothing came out. Childe was left dumbfounded.

"Don't just stand there," you screeched, "Do something!!!"

"Wait," he halts you and tries to summon his bow again. Once, twice, as the crabs grew closer still there was nothing, "My powers…they're gone?!"

"Take this," left without a choice, you pushed yourself towards him and shoved Neptune's glaive into his grasp. He examines it with curiosity, but you knew this was also your own well-being you were entrusting him, "It's really easy to use, just-"

When a crab leapt forward, you ran back to create some manageable space for Childe to move in. He delivers a powerful slice using one arm, hitting the crab's weak spot while tossing it toward the side until a dent was formed in the wall. Your mouth parts, fast, he was fast, you didn't even have the time to blink. It was as if he knew the glaive more than you did. Though, the assumption wasn't that far from the truth. Childe was well adept with swordsmanship as he was an expert with many other melee weapons. Which is precisely the reason why he chose the bow as his main, a ranged device, the challenge to keep him on his toes. Just like he was now.

"He wasn't lying when he said he could fight," you watched in mesmerization, each single blow he delivered deemed equivalent to three hits on your part. Childe was both powerful and swift. He was formidable. The way he effortlessly deflected his opponents despite not having an enchantment ring made you forget how much of an idiot he was earlier before. Soon, the lava crabs began to lessen, leaving what remained of their dusted corpse while some retreated back into the depths of the cave.

"Not bad, it was kind of fun!" Childe laughs exasperatedly, glancing at his blue reflection upon the marred blade, "It's been a while since I last used a sword, and still haven't gone rusty either," he hands you the hilt, "Thanks for letting me use it by the way. You seriously got yourself a sick weapon."

"Keep using it for now, I think I'm a little too worn out to handle it," you say regretfully and pointed your nose towards the ceiling, "The mist hasn't disappeared so there's probably gonna be more monsters we'll encounter soon."

Childe looks up as well, "Huh I was wondering what that meant."

"By the way I've never seen anyone fight like that. Exactly what kind of place are you from?" You finally ask, "You somehow ended up in a cave, without anything to defend yourself with and it's not like you know your way out either. Are you...from another world?"

"Huh didn't think you'd draw that conclusion so quick," he comments jokingly, "Guess there's no reason to hide it anymore. Indeed I am from another world, at least, that's what I can tell so far. I've never encountered these types of monsters either."

You couldn't help but be taken aback by his honesty, "That was strangely easier than I thought...."

After escaping the cave, you introduced Childe to the wizard who lived in Cindersap forest, M. Rasmodius. He was extremely intrigued by the concept of an outlander and seemed happy to be of assistance. Since helping others was the culture of Pelican Town, you commissioned Robin to build a small cabin for him to live in temporarily. In return, Childe must accompany you back to the caves and make up for your losses. It was a mutual benefit since he had the opportunity to fight as well.

Childe befriended the townsfolk rather easily. On friday nights where everyone goes to the Saloon to enjoy their time, he would be found in the other room playing pool with the gang (Sam, Abigail and Sebastian)-- you as well when he managed to drag you along with him.

Crashes at your place when you were busy with the farm. You can bet that he would pop up suddenly midday through your window, “Can you use the door like a normal person???” But despite how much you get irritated by this habit, all bygones are bygones the moment he starts a conversation.

He sticks around as you carry your hay batches, sharing his stories. How the organization he worked in was a powerful militaristic force that had authority over many countries. But you didn't see him as a brute since he only joined for the sake of his parents, for the sake of his siblings and their dreams.

You thought of your grandfather who also once told you to pursue your dreams: live a peaceful life away from urban society. However, as long as the harbinger was with you, there wasn't much option for 'peace'.

"Tell me again why you dragged me out here? You know thatI still have a lot of work to finish back in the farm," you trekked your feet through the thick icy sheets with one hand clutching the zipper near your collarbone. It was incredibly windy in Cindersap forest and Childe happened to have convinced you to leave the comfort of your home for 'a surprise favour'. He purposely made a vague statement to draw in your curiosity but if you had refused-- well, that would have led to constant nagging on his part.

"You'll see," is what he said, it was what he told you through this whole ordeal. He lifted his chin to feel the frosty air against his face, "There's this one activity I wanted to try out. Back in Snezhnaya, I used to bring my brother to go skating out on the lakes. It's deadly freezing there so the ice is pretty thick to work on. Haven't done any of that since I joined the Fatui."

You shot him a deadpan glare, "That's why you brought me out here? Why didn't you just go by yourself?"

"Now that's cold (Y/n),” you rolled your eyes at the pun, “Can't you loosen up instead of throwing yourself in a pile of work all day?"

"It's not that I don't want to...I'm just very busy with the farm since it's the last day of the month. At least I want to do as much as I can before Spring comes."

"Haha you're right but you only live once y'know?" Childe noted happily despite your protest, "And like I said before, seize the opportunity when you see it. You never know when it will be your last."

You cocked your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Now let's get started shall we?" As you both reach the edge of the frozen lake, Childe takes a step forward ahead of you, "Have you ever gone ice skating before?"

"Yeah but..." You glanced at the glassy surface with skepticism, suddenly struck by hesitance. The thought of drowning made you retreat your steps right away, "I don't know Childe, it doesn't seem that safe."

"That's true if you're not careful enough," he pointed out, "Luckily you have me to help you with that."

"How does that work?"

He placed one foot onto the hardened lake and parts his mouth into a grin, "Watch."

In contrast to your cautious personality, Childe was considered to be more of a wildcard if anything. He loved adventure, just like you except his side often included bloodshed and the thrill that danger carries. You weren't sure if it was worth putting up with his antics or entertaining his idea of skating on thin ice, but you complied regardless. He had a way of delivering his words through that cheery voice you couldn't deny.

Prior to meeting him, life was boring. The corporate world was boring. You moved into your grandfather's farm in order to search for some form of fulfillment that Zuzu city couldn't give and you thought you did now that you had your very own farm, but slowly you began to pile more responsibilities than you could even count.

Everything you did, you did alone.

If it weren't for Childe, you wouldn't have learned the art of surfing on ocean waters. You never would have known the taste of mixing three different ice-cream flavours together despite what strange names they all had. Or what it felt like to mingle with the townspeople rather than mingling for the sake of business. Suddenly, everything became...fun.

Childe wanted to go far and wide. He was always running, so far ahead, somewhere beyond the stars as he could conquer the world to the point you might no longer reach him.

No longer reach him, huh. Curling your fingers into your palm, you renewed your courage and took a step onto the ice.

At the sound of boots tapping behind him, Childe spins around to see you wobble in your stance, nearly tipping over. He slid across to where you were and grasped your arm before you fell.

"Gotcha."

"Thanks," You sighed in relief, "Jeez, this is harder than I thought."

"Guess this is your first time then," he commented with a bit of jest, "Don't stress yourself over it too much, you'll be okay. I got you."

He carefully led you to the center, staying close in case you were to fall sideways again. You awkwardly tried to keep your legs straight, balancing on your own yet the fact that there was still water underneath struck fear into your nerve. It caused you to tremble and eventually skittered backwards.

"Haha ice skating isn't your forte isn't it?"

"I'm just getting started!"

He takes your hand in his before you could even protest, it was one of his many aspects that you found endearing-- the fact his impulse stems from genuine intentions, feelings, not giving them a second thought. The two of you glide using the soles of your shoes, he speeds up ever so slightly and the adrenaline begins to increase until there comes a rush of excitement, freedom. The stress you once had already forgotten once taking flight upon the ice.

"Look Childe! I'm actually doing it!" You couldn't help mentioning with a bit of youthful playfulness in your voice, "It's so smooth and fast! Almost like I'm flying!"

He smiles quietly from a distance, “See? I told you that you'll be fine.”

It was clear to many that the two of you were much closer than what meets the eye.

Childe began to notice the change in your aura. You were happier and much more soulful. Before you were always on the edge, cautious in contrast to his sanguine approach, he couldn't help but be caught off guard whenever you teased him. Or the sudden honesty that causes him to be flustered. By your side, he was no longer a Fatui Harbinger rather more of a puppy, adorable almost.

But when he saw that the reason you changed was because of him, it brought fear into his bones. Why? How did things get to this point? You were lost in a wonderland, ignorant to the blossom that had sprung inside of your chest.

Maybe it was better to be ignorant. Just live in the moment while it can still last.

"You're leaving?"

Standing at the gateway between the mountain cliffside and the starry sky, you call out to the man you've known in a way that carries more than what words could say. Because he left a mark in your years that could never be erased and here he was, trying to erase his existence completely.

Childe lets out a bitter chuckle, he didn't dare to face you, "I didn't expect you to catch up so quickly. You're quick-witted, comrade."

"It's (Y/n)," you corrected, trying to steady your voice so that he couldn't tell the expression you were making, "Why didn't you say anything? What makes you think that I'll just stay silent and let you go on your own way? This isn't a joke Childe! Don't act as if none of it matters to you because it sure as hell did to me."

His lips that held his usual smirk flattens into a straight line, "Even if I did, would it make a difference?"

The world stills. You knew the answer, he knew the answer, you just refused to admit it. One by one, the stars begin to collect themselves until a bridge was formed in front of him, on another day he would be enjoying the scenery alongside you. But today they would be for you alone to witness. The man who you spent your time with had slowly, regretfully, inevitably became a stranger. He was right. It wouldn't make a difference. You were already aware since the day you met him that he belonged to another world and you willingly offered to help him find a way home.

"You know, you could come with me."

Your eyes jolt open. His voice was so free of care. As if he was commenting on something so minor on a casual Sunday afternoon while accompanying you to the beach. But when you came face to face with the harbinger, his expression lackluster, you knew that he meant every word.

"Just you and me, we can travel across the world to our heart's content. I always thought you were an adventurer just like me and you know what, the farm life just doesn't suit you," Childe slowly extends his hand as an offer, for you it was a temptation, "So what do you think? Care to join me?

Your lip quivers. What he said sounded like a sweet dream that you so desperately wanted to take a bite out of. But even so, you thought about the townsfolk, your farm, your grandfather. Their images flashed in as if holding you back, chaining you to the ground, "I can't."

The answer pained you more than it did to him.

"Figures, this is your home after all," he huffs out, " Now do you understand? I can't leave my home either. If I did, heh, I think my siblings would despise me until the very end and I just don't want that. So no hard feelings, okay?"

You didn't reply.

"Don't worry. I won't pressure you if you don't want to," Childe turns back to the bridge, it was almost time, "Do what you have to do (Y/n), hate me if it makes you feel any better. You can even forget about me," he paused, renewing his resolve, "But I know I won't."

"Childe-"

You ran to grab his scarf only to have it ghost through your hands. He was relieved that he couldn't hear your voice, as he returned to Teyvat, Childe wonders what kind of expression did you have before he left? He'll never know.

---

~Xiao's Story~

The day you met Xiao...well, you weren't in the best of the best positions.

This was probably your sixth attempt trying to make it through all levels of the cave and reach the last floor. The quest had been sitting in your drawer for months.

Of course you didn't expect things to be easy, the fortune teller channel you watched every morning had yet to inform you with any good fortune and you would often bump into obstacles that would halt your progress.

But to be fair, sometimes the colourful ore would attract your attention and before you knew it, it was time to go.

So close yet so far. You dragged your feet tiredly against the ground. What time was it? Who knows. Judging by your state, you assumed it had already struck past 12 a.m.

However, today luck seems to have taken pity on you, just...slightly.

You puffed air into your cupped hands for the nth time, huddling deeper into the touch of your coat while trudging into the cave's cold climate. A little longer, any time soon, you kept telling yourself over and over but as if time was frozen, the wait felt like an eternity. Ah how much you wish to be in the comfort of your soft, fluffy bed right now. Though, merely visualizing the image only reminded how achingly freezing it was so you decided it was best to spare yourself from the details.

"I can't do this anymore..." leaning your head against the ice covered cavern, you whimpered, "I should have stayed home."

As you were about to shut your eyelids, something flashed by your peripheral vision. You darted towards the direction it came from, the light was a bright green hue against blue, could it be, "Warmth!"

It seems you jumped to conclusions too quickly. With impatience, you swung around the corner, expecting to find a heat source, only to meet something much more horrifying.

"KYAH!"

They stared straight into your eyes, those demonic eyes tainted by black and fangs that stuck out of the mouth like tusks on an elephant.

However, when the light evaporated you were able to have a better sense of sight, slowly revealing the monster's true form and the body of a human boy. He fell onto his back with a thud and you used this chance to calm yourself from the frightful encounter.

"He's...unconscious?"

You meekly crawled to where he lay and examined closely. Aside from the mask, there were various distinct features that stood out in his attire, his tattoo being one of them, imprinted in what looked like an eagle. You then realized how unsuitable his clothes were in this current situation. At least there were no injuries so far. But was that a good thing? This man practically came out of thin air as if some sorcery had been committed. Witches never left a good impression ever since they cursed your chicken coop. You were hesitant whether to help a stranger who could potentially be one of them or a creation they cultivated. What other explanation could there be?

"I can't leave him here, it's too cold."

Your gaze suddenly falls upon his covered face. The design, although intimidating at first, upon closer look was very alluring in it’s own way. You haven't stumbled upon anything like what the merchants had to offer in Pelican Town and the mask almost looked too foreign. Was he from the east? Curiosity eventually takes over and you gingerly reach for the mask, sliding it off his face.

"Eh...?" You gasp, taken aback by his striking appearance. A part of it made you feel this was no ordinary boy but that didn't mean he should be abandoned in this environment. It would be immoral to let him die in a place like this.

Before you could even make a noise, his eyes bursted awake, grabbing your wrist in a harsh grip. He used his other hand to push against your shoulder until you were instantly pinned on your back with no opening to escape. You choked a sharp sound as you stared with wide eyes. The man was akin to a beast, he had the expression to match it, like the glaring sharp gaze of wolves that roam at the mountain cliffside near Zuzu city and the ferocity of the demonic mask he once wore. You were breath taken but in a more fearful way as he continued to grip onto you tighter with the possible intent to harm.

"Speak!” He demanded, “What have you done to my powers and where have you brought me?"

In Xiao’s case, he was thrown into another world under the circumstances of fighting against one of Liyue’s unknown beasts. He was on high alert, thinking the fight was still ongoing.

You may look human but you could still be a threat. Xiao is the type to act upon instinct in the moment when something feels out of place. Like the spear he wields, he was trained to behave like one: to strike, strike down his foes without hesitation. Don't leave an opening for them to take the advantage. Xiao is a weapon and violence was what he knew best. He couldn't afford to lower his guard even for a minute.

You could say he left a pretty strong first impression to the point you were paralyzed. As he looked at your face, petrified and tense, he wavered and began to reevaluate things. Large doe-like eyes stare into his feline ones. They didn't seem to hold any sort of malice, was it possible for you to be the one who cursed him?

"Eeeeeek! I-I have no idea what you're talking about, let me go let me go!" you cried, "Please don't hurt me!"

Perhaps he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

Xiao feels your struggle and eventually gets off to give you some space. Your reaction was understandable, he was used to it anyways. Xiao scoffed to himself, why are mortals so weak? Their strength, if compared to the adepti, was separated by a large gap (Like it always should be). Xiao kept his gaze averted to the side as you rubbed your wrist, focusing his attention elsewhere. He glanced at the vastness of the cave in front of him.

Why was he sent here? For what reason did it serve? Ever since he sealed the contract with Rex Lapis, the guardian Yaksha had never entertained the thought of leaving his country nor did he act upon it; he was far too loyal to his god to do so. But here he was, against his own will yet free from his karmic binds, stripped of his divine powers in the return of endless questions about this new found mortal-like form.

What should I do now?

Choosing not to dwell in any longer, Xiao rises to his feet and proceeds to walk the other way.

"Ah u-uhm sir, where are you going?"

If the universe wanted to test him then he'll find his own answers.

"Wait! Please wait up!"

"Tch."

Although he intended to keep going, Xiao heard you running to his direction and slowed to a halt, some mortals surely do not know their boundaries, "Hmph there's nothing timid about you. Leave me be," he demands without turning around, "Don't forget what I'm capable of."

Stay away.

"I-I know that," you retaliate weakly. Just by hearing his tone made you want to melt away and become one with the ice. He was a scary man indeed, the same one who attacked you earlier. But even so, "That doesn't mean I want you dead! If you go that way, you might freeze to death. Aren't you cold? You don't even have a coat on."

"..." Upon the mention of his predicament, his senses started to kick in. As a yaksha, Xiao wasn't able to be affected by temperature but now he felt his hands beginning to sting, trembling from it’s impact. Ah, so this is what it feels like to be cold. Still Xiao was stubborn and continued to push you away, "What happens to me has nothing to do with you. Now leave, or else."

"I-I can't do that!"

Xiao clicks his tongue in frustration. How annoying. This is why he dislikes meddling with meddlesome humans. But quite frankly, he wasn't sure how to handle your type of forwardness since most tend to back away. And so, Xiao does what he usually does, he ignores you and continues walking, eventually you'll give up on him anyway. However he hears a loud thump and whips around to see your body laying in the snow. The hours of travelling in the cave have seemed to caught up that you inevitably collapsed from exhaustion.

Knitting his evergreen brows together, Xiao lets out an irritable sigh.

...

You wake up to find the sky above your head and your coat draped over your shoulders like a blanket. Dawn was slowly rising above the distance valley, you figured it was around 4a.m in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you eventually noticed a figure sitting across, admiring the sunrise.

"Ah it's you!"

Xiao jolts ever so slightly, peeking over his bare shoulders until you could see the sun's light casted against his golden irises. Did he stay here while you were asleep? Then, that would also mean he was also the one who carried you all the way up from sixty floors below.

“You're awake,” he noted flatly, “If that's the case, then I have no reason to stay here."

Of course, that wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

You were a tenacious human being, always so insistent in dragging him away from his lonesome personality. He resides in the forest and camps there for the time being (similar to Linus since they’re both homeless lol). But you’d always run in, DAILY and sometimes for the most stupid and mundane reasons. It could either be giving him the snacks you snatched off the table since Xiao refused to participate in parties, or fancy seashells you found on the beach. You didn’t want him to miss out on all those things of course! Although he responds with irritation, it was as if his words went through your ear and then out the other. His efforts were futile (however, he was slowly warming up without realizing).

He learns how easily his body reacts in the presence of food purely because he was hungry. You bring an extra set of blankets and pillows to his campsite when the ones you gave him wore out (he didn’t ask by the way). Xiao needed help whether he liked it or not since he no longer has his powers, hence he couldn't run away. He somehow ends up moving in to live on the small islands near your farm.

Xiao doesn't understand humans very much. Just as he was unable to understand how human emotions work. He was the almighty yaksha, Adeptus Xiao and a formidable beast that killed thousands in thousands of years, at least that's what he used to be. Even now he still has yet to figure out what he was or who he was exactly without a weapon to define his existence. He was made for battle but nowadays, he found himself watering plants, chopping down trees and throwing seeds to the chickens living in your coop. How did everything escalate to this? It baffles him, how much his life changed so drastically.

Haha, you’re Xiao of course! The greatest farming assistant I could ever have.

But above all else, the one thing Xiao couldn't understand among those universal questions, is you.

"Why are you doing all this?" Finally he asked. The urging thought had been persisting at the back of his mind ever since.

You stopped on your tracks and turned to look at him, tilting your head with a complexion made curious, "What do you mean? Ah, did I do something to bother you?"

"I didn't say that," Xiao interrupts abruptly, he folded his arms across his chest and shot you a deep contemplating gaze, " You're...incomprehensible. All I did was drag you out of that cave yet why are you so kind to me? Don't you think you're extending yourself too much just because of one little deed?"

Because to him, saving a life was the norm. He does it unconditionally just like you helped him with those same intentions. Except, Xiao had been pursuing corrupted souls behind the scenes all this time and expected nothing in return. Experiencing someone's gratitude was rather new.

You shook your head, "It wasn't small to me," a satisfactory smile melting onto your face, "I'm here at this very moment, feeling the wind against my skin and smelling the scent that nature carries, these are just the few things I cherish. It's thanks to you that I can still watch over grandpa's farm, that's why I don't feel like I'm overextending myself in any way," suddenly you beam at him, "At first I thought you were a scary person. Haha. Time flies so fast, it's amazing how much can happen in between."

"Hn, you're a simpleton. But that's not a bad thing..." he points out curtly yet softly, "Do as you wish, I won't stop you so feel free to call my name whenever you need my help. I'll be there."

Xiao also finds you to be very clumsy. He couldn't leave your side even for a minute. But that was a lie. He just grew very attached to you.

When you tell him that you've been going into the mines for a quest, he tells you that you're far from capable. So he teaches you how to wield a weapon properly. Xiao was a strict teacher and he intends to keep it that way, he wouldn’t even allow you to set foot in the mines until he finds you capable enough.

You were a meek yet optimistic person, yet you were also strong-willed.

For a place that wasn't his home, he felt it was. And he found that it was all in your presence. Those peaceful hours hiding inside the barn while a storm rages outside, you sit beside him while hugging a sheep close to your chest. Xiao learns how to feed some of them, he even brings seeds for your hen house too. If you were ever short on materials, Xiao would travel to the enchanted forest behind the wizard's tower and get them for you, no matter how late it was. Though if you went by yourself, he'd deliberately go with you despite your protest.

The minute Xiao realized how much he was attached to you, it was devastating. As if the claws of his karmic debt had come back, pulling him into the shadows once more. He was an adeptus with a contract and bound by his duty, he must choose between his god who saved him from a nightmare and you, the girl he fell for, showed him that the world was indeed a beautiful place, he was stuck in an equilibrium and he felt that the binds may even tear him apart if he kept resisting.

But when did he ever have a choice?

"Where are you going Xiao?"

When he heard your voice calling his name, the yaksha willingly pulled himself to a halt. His sunset eyes narrowing from guilt before it shuts with a trembling sigh out of his mouth. Why is it that you always appear during the moments where he desperately needs to get away from you? He planned to sneak out the door, making sure his footsteps were unheard while you slept. And by the time you woke up, he didn't have to face you, he wouldn't have to say goodbye. He won't. Even if what he was currently doing said otherwise. He will never hear himself say those words.

"Xiao?"

Yet, he cannot refuse you. Not now, not ever. You were breathtaken to see a type of expression that you never thought was possible for him to make. The creases that once formed between his slender brows, the heaviness he always carried in his expression was replaced by a sense of sentimentality. Before you could register what was happening, Xiao took his step towards the porch of your house, not once did he tear away from your attention. He slides his hand beneath your jaw and affectionately against your cheek, the fondness evident in his gaze that you almost felt imprisoned by it.

"You never fail to appear in the most inconvenient of times," He gives a weak smile, a smile that makes your heart swell. Despite how much you could drown in his honesty, you couldn’t help but feel there was something wrong, “No matter how many times I’ve tried to push you away.”

You don't know him. You don't know his history and what things he committed in the past. But as if you've known this whole time, Xiao couldn't picture you leaving him for those reasons.

“You’re gentle but you don’t let others put you down. You’re kind but you don’t allow it to be your weakness. I sometimes wonder how it is possible for anyone to be so forgiving?”

"I-I don’t understand why you’re this Xiao. Is something happening?”

He won’t tell you. He doesn’t see the reason why you need to know.

You wince when something poked the side of your neck and you realized it was a tranquilizer. You looked at Xiao with dismay, his face becoming hazier until your vision darkened and could no longer hold your own weight. Xiao caught you around the waist with one arm as you fell unconscious.

"How can you be so stupid...?"

But he speaks as if those words were meant for him.

Pulling your body closer to him, Xiao chains you down into a desperate embrace. A silent scream of desperation. His forehead pressed against the bent of your shoulder and the other arm rested his hand at the center of your back. He will relish in the shape of your body, memorizing every curve both perfections and flaws. The way you fit into his arms and the pleasant smell of nature that you taught him to love, this was the only remnant he was allowed to take. Every detail, he will remember it as if clinging to the last moments of his whole world.

If he was allowed to have a desire, let him meet you again. He prayed to a god, any god-- even if it meant damaging his oath, he will accept his punishment. He prayed to each star in the sky and if he must he'll pray to the devil himself, whatever it is, he will do it for you.

As he painfully lets go, Xiao lets his hand slide off your body until the last thing he felt was the very tips of your fingers. He settles you down gently into your bed. You belong here in this peaceful world, not the one riddled with monsters.

---

~Zhongli's Story~

The Skull Cavern was considered to be the most dangerous mine of Stardew Valley. It wasn't your intention to run into any trouble, all you wanted was to test your cool new galaxy sword on some easy monsters and then be on your merry way. At first.

Just one more floor. You say, before catching an arm sticking out a pile of rocks.

"I-Is that a person?!!!"

You dug as fast as you could, any time soon the mummies would wake up and start attacking. Quick quick! Moving the last rock, you saw the face of a young man, he was asleep but alive! and undeniably attractive oh wow *lip bite*. But despite your attempts of shaking him awake, it was fruitless and the monsters weren't waiting.

Taking out two warp totems, you raised it to the ceiling and chanted a teleportation spell.

It wasn't everyday that you brought a man to your house.

But when you did, he wouldn't be from a cave, six floors down and buried in a place filled with monsters.

"And this small black device you say is some form of communicator? That certainly is intriguing, never in my years have I heard of something so advanced."

However you were beginning to think otherwise. That this man would have been from the prehistoric ages who you managed to unbury after his thousand year slumber. Zhongli sits on the couch across from you while examining your smartphone, a term he claimed had been completely foreign. You were contemplating whether you should bother Harvey despite being past his work hour and book an emergency appointment to see if this man had a special case of amnesia.

You brushed the idea away. There was so much going on and nothing made sense, for now, you decided to settle this on your own.

"Uhm Zhongli is it?" you asked nervously, "Maybe you can try giving the name of a relative or someone you know. I can use the phonebook to see if I can find their number."

“Number?” He parroted.

You blinked a few times, making sure if you heard him correctly, “Yes, number. You know? To communicate?”

"I appreciate your kind gesture," Zhongli acknowledges in a polite manner, "But that won't be necessary. This device doesn’t seem to be at a level where it can communicate with the people from my homeland."

If he was travelling then how the hell did he end up in THE Skull Cavern is what I wanna know!

“T-Then if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?"

Zhongli takes this moment to think of an answer, aware that if he blurted something out it would not have translated in the way he wanted. But you so kindly invited him to your humble household that he felt it would only be proper to owe you an explanation, "I suppose a land from afar."

You sweatdropped, "Suppose?"

"Yes. Although I won't spare you the details since this is not your burden to bear, it’s quite difficult for me to try and remember exactly what happened," Zhongli took his chin into his hand, fingers almost covering his mouth, "Perhaps I would need search for clues in order to refresh my memory."

Oh no he really does have amnesia!!

"A-Actually why don't I just call the local doctor, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a hand," you say while taking your iPhone.

"A doctor? There's no need," dismissed Zhongli, "My condition is only a minor one and I do not think I'm in a position to afford medical assistance. Besides, you have done more than enough. May you find great fortune in your years Miss (Y/n), I shall be on my way."

He pushes himself up from the couch and you watch him cross towards the door. But just when he was about to reach the space of your carpet, Zhongli pulled to an abrupt stop.

"Ah yes,” He began as if remembering something, “ Do you happen to know where the nearest Inn is located? I would need to find a place to shelter for the time being."

"..."

This was how the former god ended up being your roommate. Like Xiao, Zhongli also takes upon a human form. He needed to eat, drink and a place to sleep. He insisted that he would take the couch as well as help you with any tasks that needed to be completed during the day.

You question if Zhongli was even aware of what situation he was currently in. Answer: HE WASN'T because Zhongli is an extremely dense man. To feel embarrassed was not part of his dictionary when living with a woman.

The type to take long showers. You always find the bathroom steaming because he doesn't turn on the fan to get rid of it (but maybe you should've taught him). So when it was your turn to use the shower, the water was either lukewarm or worst case scenario, cold.

Also he somehow finds your old kettle (that your grandfather used) to brew tea even though you told him you already had a water boiler. He stated that he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, it brings him a sense of nostalgia. You couldn't understand what he meant (unless you considered that he was older than he seemed....no that can’t be it!)

Despite it all, Zhongli was incredibly polite and considerate. Tending the farm was not an easy job and you often came home with sore muscles, fatigued from running so many errands. He's knowledgeable in terms of making the best herbal mix for a soothing remedy.

You would see a warm cup, every morning before going to work and every time you come home, it was sitting on the kitchen table (if his drink had potion effects, they would be regeneration).

Gentle he was but it wasn't good for your heart.

Ever since Zhongli moved in, it became difficult to live in your own house.

There were many situations where he caused trouble despite not intending to cause disruption to your daily routine. And when he did, the repairs came out of your own pocket. One time you opened your microwave to find thick ash and burnt cinders stuck upon the walls.The entire space was a hazard and needed to be dispensed immediately since Zhongli thought that plastic-wrapped items were allowed to be microwaved. Another incident, as bizarre as it sounded, was when your vacuum cleaner zoomed out of your house...and never came back. You remembered the awkward cough he gave when you shot him a deathly glare, hence why Zhongli was not allowed to touch your high-tech devices (if you considered them high-tech) without your permission.

Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. It was the opposite in fact. One day, all the flaws you counted suddenly became his charms. You came to find them endearing almost.

Zhongli was a handsome man. He carried himself with a distinct aura that could only be found in the rarest geodes; revealing orestones mined from the depths of a forgotten cave, sometimes in the shape of exquisite artifacts-- a type of ancient charm. Perhaps that was why people were willing to obey his every command without hesitation. Whenever Zhongli spoke, it was full of firmness and authority yet somehow deprived of arrogance. He was polite to all and does not indulge in conflict despite how tempting gossip can be in modern society. Always patient during your temperamental moments and considerate to the point you wonder if he even had any desires. He was so kind that soon enough, you couldn't help but be flustered by his presence. Forget about having a conversation, maintaining his leveled gaze was already enough of a challenge. Like staring into the sun after the morning dew. So gentle and so very comforting. But the more you linger onto the sun, it's rays will continue to set ablaze, eventually bringing you pain.

And you feared that you have grown addicted to those feelings.

Why can't he understand?

Stopping at the center of the bridge, you kept your head low while letting the anger take form into your tightened fists. The town was empty with only the sound of water flowing beneath your feet, filling the heavy air. They rippled and swayed, peaceful amongst your inner turmoil. The fact that such a miniscule attribute was able to make your blood rise was hilariously pitiful. How did you stoop to a point that even nature, the very being you've tended for a living, could bring you bitterness? Were your feelings this uncontrollable? The answer was obvious. It spiraled, violently and mercilessly as if commanded by another. There was a wave of emotions filling your heart and you could almost feel yourself drowning from the inside. If only they were as tranquil as the ones you stood upon.

"I thought I would find you here."

The voice you dreaded calls from across and you fight to keep yourself from gasping. Oblivious to it all, Zhongli proceeds to close the distance until he towered over you, looking down to your bowed head, "When you hadn't returned home without a notice, I was getting worried if something had happened. But I'm glad that wasn't the case."

Your whole face clenches.

"Is something bothering you? If you would like, we can discuss it after eating dinner. Come, I have already prepared our meal while you were gone as well as turning off the rice cooker once finished. I hope it can ease your stress since I know it can be difficult maintaining a farm like this."

"Zhongli."

He blinks hard when the sound of his name falls out of your lips. Zhongli was an experienced observer and listener, he was able to catch the glimpse of frustration that dripped from the tone you used. Relaxing his poised shoulders, Zhongli carefully asked in a reserved manner, "Have I...done something to make you upset?"

A trembled breath escaped when you breathed out. Dense. He was so dense that sometimes it made you want to crack him open.

"Tell me..." you began, "Are you also like this with other women?"

The former god sets a brief sharp pause, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm talking about the way you act, they're...giving me all these mixed signals. We've been living together for months, we even share meals together! And sometimes you would help me with the farm and when I didn't ask, you still insisted on tending to my needs when I felt sick. I just…” you trailed off, trembling ever so slightly, "It's all perfectly normal. You’re nice to everyone. I know that. I know that!"

"(Y/n)," Zhongli whispered. They sounded like a thousand needles to your heart.

"I doubt you have the intention to put me in this situation. You're a really great person Zhongli but I sometimes can't help feeling this isn't just some roommate thing you know?" closing your eyes, you thought of your past relationships, how they started and ended, "Do any of your actions mean anything to you? Do you know how it makes me feel? Or am I just overthinking this, that it was all one-sided this whole time?"

Alas the truth spills and the air stills, bringing the waves to a halt. Peace, tranquility, nothingness. That was all you wanted. That was all you heard. It was deafening.

"I see, so that's why," Zhongli mutters to himself with eyes narrowed, "There's...something I need to confess."

After several months, he tells you everything. How his memories returned, some of them were already intact. He told you about his homeland and his true identity, that he was a god that once ruled over Liyue for six centuries before giving away the gnosis.

The reason why he hadn't said anything until now was because there will be a day where Zhongli must depart and return to Teyvat. He was a god with a contract, the circumstance didn't matter, he must stay with it until the very end of time.

Through his years, Zhongli learned to cherish his finite moments. He didn't want to taint them with troubles to come. Thinking too far ahead into the future would only bring strain.

But what he didn't tell you was his true feelings. You were a sweet woman, tender and enthusiastic about agriculture, the way your feelings extend to the earth with grace whereas many others chose to trample over without hesitation, he fell deeply in love with that side of yours. You taught him many things and showed him many sides of humanity that he had never seen before. He even discovered an aspect of himself. Like breaking a geode, revealing the beauties held inside.

Zhongli couldn't look you in the eye when your expression was covered in disbelief. He thought he hid his feelings well but it seemed that he was expressing his love in subtle and subconscious ways that eventually drove you to fall for him as well. You didn't stop him when he left the bridge. He wasn't even in your house. He chose this, he chose to set you free from his heavy presence.

And as the weight started to lift from your shoulder, you sank to your knees and wept. It was cruel of him. To give you these emotions yet he could not bring himself to stay by your side. But your heart would not allow you to hate the man you love.

Things couldn't end this way. You had to say goodbye to him, see him one last time because if you didn't, these burdens will haunt you forever.

When Zhongli looked up to the sky he saw his ending drawing near.

Three days had passed since he last spoke with you and he had no plans in seeing you again. Soon, the former god will return to his rightful place. Even though he had already given his gnosis to the Cryo Archon as Liyue already began to enter a new era, it seems that his decisions weren't his to make as he was born in a world where stars ruled above the archons. Fate-- they won't allow it. He does not belong here. If there was one thing Zhongli regretted during his time in your world, it was that he couldn't leave you a good memory before taking his departure. The sight of your large glassy eyes and quivering lips when he crushed you with the truth, he sincerely believed that they would haunt him much more than it probably did to you. But perhaps things would be easier if you despised him. Because if he had stayed and you came to forgive him, he would no longer have the strength to let go.

Despite it all love was indeed a selfish creature. He couldn't help but feel resentment towards the stars for bringing you into his life in such a mockingly sweet manner. They tied him with a contract, made him vow to his own beliefs and tested them by using you-- a bystander struck between the crossfire, eventually bringing you down into the depths of his battlefield and he thought that maybe...maybe there was hope that he could bring you with him as well.

How disgraceful for a god to let the devil tempt him so.

Zhongli was thankful that you weren't beside him. Otherwise he would dance with the ugly hope of a slim chance for you to come along. This was the best choice. It was for his-- your own good.

"Zhongli!"

The arch of his lined eyes shot upwards. As if fate had decided to give him one final test, he felt your small figure crash into him from behind and your arms coming to hug around his waist, tightly and fearfully that he felt like you would be the one who would slip away instead.

"I...I made it time," you panted, burying your nose into his clothed back, "I’m so glad...I'm so glad you're still here…!"

Your cry of relief was a thunder to his ears, a reminder that he was the main cause. Zhongli, casted by solemn smile, lifts his hand to cover over yours and grasped onto them, I'm here, he wishes to say. Yet he knew they were only temporary promises, "To come all this way despite everything that has happened. You foolish girl..."

"It's your fault Zhongli, I'm a fool because I love you! It's all your fault that I have to say goodbye," You grit your teeth as the tears fell down your face until it blended into his clothes, "Take me with you. Please. Don't leave me all alone…!"

The words he wanted to say melted into a silent gasp through parted lips. Zhongli merely clenched them back together and his hand on your hand, even tighter. He won't lie to you. At the very least, let his actions speak for him where he himself could not.

Take me with you.

Don't leave me alone.

Goodbye.

If it is fated Morax...we will meet again.

"I see," letting his thoughts echo in his mind from the distant memories, the former god begins to take a new perspective upon his wisdom, "For many years, I have experienced countless farewells from the people I've come to known," Zhongli reminisced, tilting his head back with his golden eyes against night, as if searching for some sort of answer, "And yet I never thought what it must have felt like being in their position."

"Zhongli…" you trailed off, "Then don't! I may not know everything about you but it doesn't have to be this way. At least, just answer me this, will I ever see you again?"

"I'm sorry (Y/n)," he apologized and you knew the answer. He gently pries your arms off him, turning around so he could swipe the corner of your eyes dry. There was a glowing reverence in his countenance, one that he reserved for you and only you, it was the only way for him to express the feelings that run deep in his heart, "I cannot thank you enough for coming into my life. If there will be a day when I erode from your memories, I truly hope that you will find someone more suitable than I."

"That's ridiculous," defiantly, refusedly, you protest, "No one can replace you."

Zhongli laughs sadly as the white halo outlines his whole figure, signaling that there wasn't much time left. He wonders if there was anything he could do in his last moments, a small token, something, it could even be as small as a single star in the sky, "If it is fated...we will meet again."

You watch him turn transparent until he slipped from your grasp. No longer was the man, only the dust being one with the sky. They shone brilliantly but you were left in the darkness.

[wearywinchester]

Safe

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes south and you wind up taken, Dean is always there to find you.

Requested by @randomwriter1021: “Could you do a dean x reader where they are on a hunt and the reader gets kidnapped/ tortured and Dean saves her and it all ends in some fluff? I know it's kind of overused but I love it so much. (You are such a great writer and I love all you work)”

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: implied torture, injuries, blood, angst, guilt, fluff

There were a number of things Dean feared in his lifetime, a handful at that. They didn’t revolve around his own safety, they didn’t revolve around the materialistic things he’s got in his live. He didn’t hold himself in that high of a regard. His greatest fears revolve around the family he’s got left, the friends and loved ones he’s got left.

His greatest fears revolved around you.

When you’d gone missing on that hunt, one he didn’t even want you on in the first place, he felt as though his heart had fallen to his stomach. If it weren’t for the way it’d been hammering in his chest like it’d never had been before, if it weren’t for that grounding him to reality, he just might have lost his mind.

He went through a flurry of emotions within seconds it felt like— rage, devastation, fear, more anger. He nearly tore up the motel room in initial fury at the thought of you being alone somewhere, some grimy demon in your presence. The thought of them laying so much as a finger on you had him seeing redder than red and if Sam hadn’t brought him out of it he’d have trashed the place in a blind rage.

He was angry. Angry at himself for not arguing with you just a little bit more on staying back this time. For not sweet talking you out of it like he knew he could. He was angry at the fact that he’d let himself get so close to you, because if he hadn’t, you’d be safe. But he knew he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t put a mile between himself and you even if he tried.

You were his weakness and this is what the end result was.

That’s when the guilt flooded in, hard and fast. The very same anger that sat heavy behind the fact that he’d let his walls down and let you in had simmered there. He felt that if it wasn’t for him, you’d have a happier life, you were better off. He felt guilty, guilty and angry that he was the poster child for hunting. That just about every monster out there, yet to be killed, had his name in their mouth. Every demon knew Dean Winchester, every demon had a desired interest in Dean Winchester, stopping at absolutely nothing to track him down.

He hated that he was some novelty that every monster out there, from bad to worse, had known of him.

Maybe that’s why he fought his feelings as hard as he did. He knew that’s why. That’s why he bickered on every little thing with you since the two of you were just twenty and figuring out the true reality of the hunting world. That’s why he strived to get on your nerves just as much as you got on his. He thought maybe, just maybe if he used enough wit and sarcasm in his every word that it’d keep that barrier he fought so hard to keep from crumbling. It was a valiant attempt, but it was one that he knew was failing him.

It failed, and this is what was to come of it.

The time that had gone by was agonizing, every possibility of every fate you’d had flashing through his mind in an excruciating loop. He drove around for hours in search of abandoned buildings, leaving Sam to research possible leads in that town he’s come to hate. He wanted to leave and never come back but he wouldn’t do it until he found you. Sam couldn’t talk him into helping out with research, he knew to stop asking after the first try.

And it’s that very guilt that floods him harder than the first time when he finally finds you.

That demon was dead and gone without so much as another word out of its mouth once he knew he’s got the right house, and he was strong-willed and angry as he barreled through that house.

The moment he lays eyes on you, that feeling in his chest, the anger boils over and sears him from the inside out as he sees you slumped in that chair looking absolutely miserable. He feels he doesn’t deserve to be the reason your eyes light up in that moment. He feels he doesn’t deserve to be the cause of your relief, because if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be there.

The guilt is incessant, ripping him to shreds at the sight of the scarlet smearing across your cheek, a track of it having run down your forehead in a singular drip. It gnaws and preys on him at the tears in your sleeves and the scuffs in your boots, all too telling of the way you’d struggled and fought with all the venom in the world like you always did.

When he felt guilt, you felt relief.

“Dean!” You said, trying to make sense of whether or not this was reality or some sort of dream the past two days had conjured up.

He crossed the room in a matter of a few strides, quick to rid you of the rope around your wrists and ankles. You were sore, boy you were sore, having been stuck in that chair for the better part of 48 hours. You saw the worry in his eyes and the guilt filling his every move as his hand settled on your face, calloused and warm as his gaze bounced across every inch of your face as if to assure himself it was really you, that you were really there. He was awed, in a moment he’d gotten lost in as his thumb swiped over your cheek, a moment he’d been pulled from at the feeling of your arms tight around him.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he said, huffing out a sigh of relief, the weight pressing heavy on his chest having lightened up now that he knew for a fact you were okay. “I got you.”

That very feeling still ran deep, sitting heavy in his heart as he’d settled down in that motel room with you later that night. You were freshly showered, not without Dean fussing over you on the other side of the curtain, insisting on sitting on the toilet seat with a frown and crossed arms because he’ll be damned if his lets you out of his sight. Not now, at least not for a little while.

All your wounds had been tended to with the utmost of gentle care, his jaw tenser than ever as he worked with feather light touches, too afraid to cause any more pain. There were fewer than you thought and more than he’d like, something even so much as a scratch having the anger and upset bubble in his stomach.

Even after that, you still couldn’t hate him, you never would, you couldn’t hate him the way he felt he deserved.

“De, you gotta stop frowning now. For me,” you say, lifting your head from his chest to see he was in fact frowning.

He looked down at you, tired green eyes softening once he meets your gaze. “‘M not frowning.”

Your lips purse and the softest of smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth, and it’s then that you sit up a little bit more. You pretend the action doesn’t hurt as much as it does, you pretend for his sake just so you can lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. One that melts away some of that guilt and anguish that surrounded his heart. A kiss that turned to two, two turning to another as he turned his head to look at you with all the love in the world.

His sigh is soft, breath fanning warmly against your lips in a silent show of the emotions he’d felt in that very moment. His forehead pressed to yours in that moment, your nose bumping his as his eyes fluttered closed.

He knows. He knows there’s no way you could hate him even when he feels he deserves it most. He knows you’ll love him just the same as you did last week, just the same as you did when you’d first said it ten years ago. He knows you’ll love him tomorrow and the days coming after that and he can’t quite grasp how you would, but he knows.

You kiss him softly, sweetly, one that makes him melt just a little bit more as the tension in his posture loosens just a bit. That same tension in his jaw lessening when your hand settles on his cheek. It’s your laugh that has him curious, soft and sweet as he pulls back to look at you.

“What?” He says, swallowing as his own curiosity trickles in.

“You looked awfully heroic today, De, if I say so myself,” you start, “a handsome one at that.”

He chuckles softly, half humorous and half bittersweet at your words. “Sweetheart, I ain’t a hero. Hell, I’m not even the sidekick.”

“You’re my hero, Dean. Always have been,” you say, dipping back down to lay on his chest.

His smile is soft as it sits pretty on his lips, his hand running over your head and smoothing down your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth over your skin and a pattern of comfort that puts you at ease. He refused to make you privy to just how he’d been feeling inside, even though you already knew. But he refused, because this wasn’t about him. It was about you and he didn’t want that on your shoulders.

But he was content in that moment, some chick flick on the motel tv as you tucked yourself against him. For the first time in the last two day you felt safe, the worry in his mind dissolving for now. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight, not for a little while, but this was a moment to rival all others.

He dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead, a silent I love you, the softness of his smile and the roughness of the beginnings of his stubble pressing into your skin. He was your hero, he couldn’t believe he was your hero. He’ll take it, the mere thought of it sitting contently in the forefront of his mind as the tips of his fingers smooth over your skin in a comforting loop.

You were safe.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @lanea-1 @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming

[sundaysundaes]

Falling

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Angst | NC-17 | 11K

Summary: In the absence of your warmth, Lee Donghyuck begins to reminisce the loving memories he’s shared with you in the past three years, regretting how your first fight turned into something that ended it all. Lyrics are taken from this beautiful song: Harry Style’s Falling.

Warnings: Unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!), oral sex, alcohol consumption, swearing

I'm in my bed

And you're not here

The small, barely prominent crack on the ceiling of his bedroom has always gone unnoticeable. It stands only as a silent witness of the meeting between a pair of plumps lips to redder ones, the breathless sounds of frantic moans, and the sacred exchange of loving words. But not tonight. Tonight, as he lays on his bed, sheets all crumpled but with the absence of your warmth, Donghyuck notices everything.

He notices how quiet his room—his entire apartment—feels when it’s only the sound of his own, soft breathing echoes through the air. The walls, the carpet, the bedsheets, the framed photographs that remind him of the joy that used to bloom on his face—everything feels monochromatic. Empty. Shallow. Because ever since you walked out of his life, you’ve taken all the colors with you, leaving him solely in black and white.

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands

With the bitter taste of vodka sitting on his tongue, Donghyuck closes his eyes, allowing himself to remember but not forgive the words he once said to you. 

Regrets start to suffocate him at once.

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left

What hurts from a break-up is not the parting of two hearts, but the memories that had been drawn deep within them. It’s not the kiss that he misses, it’s the taste of your lips—the faint scent of strawberry that sits pale in comparison to your natural flavor. It’s the way they move against his own, timid at first then consuming all at once. And how there will be no other girl that will taste the same, feel the same, or emit the same kind of feelings from him.

It’s funny, Donghyuck thinks, how he can only see your smile behind his closed eyelids these days. But he doesn’t find himself laughing. He can’t even remember the last time he found a reason to smile, now that you’re gone.

The moon was hiding behind thick clouds, he remembers, that night when fate walked in and introduced you to one another.

Donghyuck’s eyes were glued to the silver screen, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he witnessed the battle between the villain and the protagonist grew deadly. The thrill of it soon perished, however, when a scent of chamomile shampoo fleeted through his nose.

Your head was falling onto his shoulder as you waned into your dreamland. Unbeknownst to you, you had been leaning your weight entirely to a stranger whose bergamot perfume compelled you to focus on anything besides the movie. It was as pleasant as it was distracting. But after being sleep deprived for three days, exhaustion finally took over and you fell asleep so deeply, you didn’t even have the strength to dream.

Your weight on his body was unfamiliar but it wasn’t uncomfortable for twenty-two years-old Lee Donghyuck. As he took a glance at your face, it wasn’t your beauty that kept him frozen—except for the gentle smile that broke on his lips. It was how peaceful you looked, almost like an enervated child curling up after spending her time chasing butterflies on the field.

Donghyuck shifted carefully on his seat, attempting his best to give you comfort by providing more space for you to lean your weight on. Then he stayed still, his smile never faltered away, the movie long forgotten. He didn’t spare a glance at the screen even when people were gasping at the sight of the protagonist dying in his lover’s arms. He was more intrigued by the thought of your name, wondering whether it would sound as nice as the smell of your shampoo.

When the credits rolled, Donghyuck told Mark and Jeno in hushed whispers to leave without him, throwing icy glares at them when they grinned devilishly at the sight of you sleeping on his shoulder. He went as further as kicking Jeno on the shin when his voice rose too loudly, afraid that he’d wake you up, which made the other man complain because certainly, the background music was louder than anything else in the room.

Nevertheless, you were still deep in your slumber.

Donghyuck begged for more time when one of the concessions workers asked him to leave. Refused and left with no other solution, he sighed and turned his head toward you.

“Hey,” he whispered, heart palpitating in anticipation of finally hearing your voice. “We have to go.”

His voice was foreign to your ears but it was so soothing, almost like a lullaby, that you snuggled closer, wanting to hear more of it. It took Donghyuck three times more with his cheeks reddening to call upon you until you finally found the power to detach yourself from your stupor.

“Hey there,” a boy—beautiful boy—with glowing, sun-kissed skin; round, enticing eyes; and a voice as sweet as honey, beamed at you with a smile so warm, it nearly melted your heart, and you decided ah, I don’t ever want to wake up from this dream.

It was when the usher popped into your vision, stating, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we’re closing,” that you internally screamed oh God, no, this isn’t a dream, what have I done?

“So that’s what he said.” Donghyuck’s smile was sheepish with a tint of teasing, and your heart moved on its own, yearning for him to display you another one. “But if you still have time to spare, we can go get some coffees or something. I can fill you in on the details.”

“A—” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, embarrassingly so. “About what?”

“About the movie you just missed.” The grin he showcased grew wider and this time, it was so utterly mischievous that you had to break your gaze before heat rushed to your face. “The fact that you’re here watching a movie by yourself must mean you’re interested to see how it ends. I can help you with that.”

“Umm—” You rummaged your purse, pretending like you were searching for something when it was only a poor excuse for you to not be captivated by his eyes longer than you already were. “It’s fine, I can look it up online.”

“But then what should I do with this?” He brought his right hand in the air, pursing his lips. “My arm’s falling asleep. Shouldn’t you take responsibility for it?”

The horrified look on your face made him laugh, and his laughter became the reason why you decided to throw all common sense away and just went with what felt right.

Awkward conversations made you anxious but they died before you could finish your coffee. They were reborn into something that was supposed to only be shared between friends instead of strangers, but with Donghyuck, everything felt so natural, you didn’t even find the will to question it. His affable, carefree attitude was almost inspiring, breaking through your facade as easy as counting his fingers.

“So, how come you went to the movies by yourself?” Donghyuck asked, his coffee long forgotten on the table as he was more drawn to you and the little smile you retained on your lips. “Boyfriend too busy to come along?”

A bit flustered, you brought your head down, hiding your eyes behind your fringe. “I don’t... have a boyfriend.”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, lying his chin on his palm as he rested his elbow on the table. The way he stared at you made your stomach flip, and he reciprocated with nothing but a hum, tapping a finger to his cheek. His tiny smile held a thousand meaning.

You hurriedly took a sip of your coffee. “I, uhh, I had some free time today and it’s my favorite movie franchise—I just got to see how it ended. But all my friends have seen it, so…”

“They didn’t invite you?”

“They did. I was just busy with work.”

His voice dropped an octave lower. “And they didn’t wait for you.”

“It’s—” Your chest tightened. “It’s fine, really. I mean, it would only make me feel bad if they waited for me. My schedule is crazy. I haven’t been sleeping properly for three days because of my deadlines.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” He chuckled and you noticed how his teeth were a little jagged. “I could still smell your drool on my shirt, actually.”

“Oh my God,” you spluttered. “I’m—Please let me wash it for you.”

“And you expect me to walk home half-naked?” His naughty eyebrow raise made your skin tingle. “Or are you inviting me to stay over?” Seeing you part your mouth but lost for words, Donghyuck tittered. “I’m kidding. I would’ve waited for you. No matter how busy you were, I would. And even if I’ve watched it first, I wouldn’t mind watching it again with you.”

You shook your head, both in attempts to disagree with his words and to erase your blush away. “But that would be a waste of money—”

“That wouldn’t be a waste, and you know why?” He leaned closer, body almost halfway through the table. “Because for me, it’s never about the movie. It’s about watching it together with you. About us complaining about the plot holes, talking about the bad acting, laughing at each other when something reminds us of one of our inside jokes. That’s what makes it worth.” As Donghyuck realized how your eyes were locked with his, your breath hitching in your throat with the proximity, he quickly plummeted back to his seat, flushed. “I mean, it applies to everyone—not you, specifically.”

So he could be shy, you wondered. And what else could he be? Maybe buried underneath those mischievous grins, laid a caring heart. Maybe he could be the one who’d understand when you missed three of his calls as you tried to survive your deadlines. Maybe he would cook you breakfast instead of just reminding you to take one. Maybe he could taste sweeter than any boy you’d ever kissed.

So when his curiosity for you matched the intensity you had towards him, you let your walls crumble, welcoming him with open arms.

“It’s going to rain,” Donghyuck mentioned, eyes observing the night sky, dark clouds rumbling as they hovered above you. You were walking next to him, knuckles nearly grazing one another from how near you were though none of you was brave enough to close the distance.

Although obvious, you decided to humor him. “Yeah? How can you tell?”

“‘Cause I’m psychic.” The added wink in the end was a bonus but to you, it became the main reason why you had to drag your gaze to your feet.

Funny how for the past three hours, your smile never faltered away—almost to the point that your cheekbones began to hurt—when you could barely remember the last time you found amusement in anything.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and you promptly shook your head no. Unfortunately for you, your body betrayed you. Donghyuck chuckled softly when he noticed the shivers that ran through your spine. “Want me to lend you my jacket?”

“Oh—no, it’s fine, I’m—”

“It was a rhetorical question, dummy.” The body heat that was imprinted on his leather jacket made you well-aware of just how warm he actually was. The scent of his bergamot perfume was overwhelmingly delightful, but there was another scent underneath it—something that reminded you of summer, sunlight, and sandalwood—that made you wonder, maybe, if he wasn’t wearing this perfume, he’d smell just like this.

He pushed your hair away from your neck, straightening the jacket until it enveloped you entirely with its warmth. “Better?”  

You eventually managed to snap yourself out of your reverie. “Were you always this smooth with women?”

“No, I just practiced in front of my mirror a lot.”

“Practiced what?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “The art of seduction.”

“Is that so?” Your cheeks began to warm but it was probably because of the jacket. “Guess I should try that sometimes,” you joked.

“I don’t think you need it,” he cooed, bending himself down a little so you were eye-to-eye. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers from the second I laid my eyes on you.” When you became petrified by his words, his laughter reverberated through the air. “Now, that’s an example. How did I do?”

Ignoring your racing heart, you retorted, “Terrible.”

“Then will you let me practice on you so I can get better?”

Just like that, you found yourself sporting another smile. “Now, that’s smooth.”

Your life had been dull, repeating the same routines over and over again with your job taking most of your precious hours. Being with Donghyuck was a breath of fresh air—a stranger who was attentive to every little gesture you made, every little word that escaped your mouth, as much as he easily stole your attention away. His confidence was inspiring, his laughter was contagious, and you adored every little bit of his quirkiness.

“This feels like a date,” he professes, smiling diffidently to himself. “Would it be okay for me to think of it as a date?”

Suddenly, your vocabulary had diminished into nothing but his name. You nodded, and surprisingly enough for you, Donghyuck snickered, hand reaching out to playfully—almost childishly—ruffle your strands. “Thanks. Then a date it is.”

You wished time could go slower so you could savor the moment, memorizing the heart shape of his lips when he grinned.

You stopped in front of your apartment building, a breeze of cold night wind caressing your cheeks. “Umm, this is me,” you said, dismantling his leather jacket of your body. “Thank you... for this.”

Donghyuck’s fingertips grazed against your knuckles and it took longer than necessary for him to retrieve it from your hand. “You’re welcome.”

“And...” Your mind strayed away from forming the right words as you took notice of him wearing his leather jacket, how it fitted him so perfectly, how handsome he looked. “Umm, thank you for walking me back.”

“Thank you for giving me the chance.” His smile reminded you of spring, your favorite season, the way it blossomed on his face, so warm and beautiful. “I could’ve been a serial killer, you know. Showing me where you live isn’t too smart.”

“You don’t look like a serial killer to me.”

“Yeah?” His smile turned impish. “Then, how do I look like to you?”

You were fast to pivot on your heels. “I think I should go.”

His laughter filled the air. “Wait, I haven’t even said good night yet.”

“Then good ni—“ Your words died on your tongue when a pair of plump lips found their way to your cheek, just brushing lightly against the skin but your entire breath escaped your lungs at once. He retraced his steps before you could respond properly, biting the corner of his lip, looking somewhat unsure.

“Sorry if that’s—“ Donghyuck cleared his throat. “Umm, good night.”

You felt lightheaded, and you shortly blamed it on the amount of espresso you’d gulped too much during the day. “Good… night…”

Donghyuck was too bashful to meet your eyes, which was why you were brave enough to sneak a glimpse at his face. You decided that his sly, confident grins looked alluring on his face, but they were nothing compared to how adorable he seemed when he evinced that nervous, shy look on his face.

It took a few seconds before Donghyuck gave you a weak nod and walked away, taking the same direction from where you came. Something queasy grew inside your stomach, your grip around your purse tightening. 

Is it all there is? Am I never going to see him again?

With a heavy sigh, you walked toward your building.

Maybe he doesn't like me that much... But what do I do now? I want to see him again.

I don’t want to let him go without knowing whether I could see him again.

God, for once, just do something for yourself. Do something that makes you happy, be brave!

Taking a deep breath, you chose to gamble.

At the same time you turned on your heels, shouting his name, Donghyuck was calling upon yours and you both met each other halfway, breathless when it didn’t even take you more than twenty steps to reach one another.

“H-hi,” you greeted, voice quivering but not as much as the fingers you curled around the hem of your blouse.

“Hey.” Donghyuck’s gaze softened. “I was wondering—”

“Can we meet again?” You didn’t intend to cut him off so abruptly, but the anxiety within you nearly made your heart burst that you ended up asking the question without waiting for him to finish his. “I—I mean—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Yes, a thousand times yes,” he answered in one breath, with his sentence ending in chuckles. “You’re adorable, do you know that?”

Your heart was still about to burst but for an entirely different reason. “That’s…” You tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear—a habit that seemed to appear whenever you were too embarrassed to function. “That’s great. I mean, the fact that you want to see me again, not—” Oh God, okay, stop. “Well, then, umm, I guess I should leave now.”

He concealed his grin. “Aren’t you going to ask for my number or something?”

You mentally slapped yourself. “Y-yes, that would make it easier.”

The way Donghyuck was gazing at you made you feel like you were about to fall from the edge of your seat. He must think I’m an idiot. But had you been brave enough to see the gleam in his eyes, you would’ve noticed how he was staring at you so adoringly. “Give me your phone then.” When you just stood still, too busy trying to comprehend that a cute boy was really going to give you his number, Donghyuck added, “To add my numbers, Sweetheart. What, do I look like someone who flirts with pretty girls just to steal their phones away?”

“I wasn’t—” You quickly handed him your phone. “Here.”

Donghyuck’s smile grew playful again. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What?”

“I’ll add my numbers except for the last digit. You gotta guess it.”

“What? Why—”

“Because you’re cute,” he repeated, cocking his head as he returned your phone. “And it makes me want to tease you even more.” You unconsciously began to pout and he nearly whimpered at the sight. “Don’t do that, that’s not fair.”

You mumbled quietly, “I don’t like being made fun of.”

“I’m not making fun of you, I’m teasing you. There’s a difference.” He sighed, fingertips aching to reach out and swat your bangs away from your eyes. “A huge difference.”

You jutted out your bottom lip. “Feels the same to me.”

Donghyuck leaned in, calloused palm finding its way to cup your cheek, lifting your face so the streetlight could illuminate your features. “You need to wash that pout away from your face,” he whispered, eyes slowly going down to your lips that you had to remind yourself to breathe. “Or else I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

It was supposed to be another teasing, you knew he only meant it that way. But all trace of playfulness quickly vanished from his face when he noticed your eyes drifting to his lips—just for a split second—but that was enough. He saw the sign, he felt the chemistry, and there was no way he was going to let it pass just like that. Not when he had been thinking the same thing repeatedly for the last three hours you’d been together.

It wasn’t your first kiss—nor your second or third—but it was the kiss that mattered and you weren’t sure why. Three hours ago, he was a stranger. Now, he sent a trickle of electricity through your bloodstream, as if he was your first love. As if you had been wanting him for years.

A gentle rain began to pour over your heads, tiny droplets staining your cheeks but all you could think about was the way his thumb was caressing your cheekbone, how his lips were warmer and softer than anything you could have imagined, yet fierce and powerful at the same time.

“Am I going too fast?” He asked in a broken whisper, parting away just enough to murmur the question but close enough that you could still feel his words grazing your lips.

“Yes.” But you curled your fingers on the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. Donghyuck sighed into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he let himself drown deeper in passion. What started as a chaste kiss became ardent, and you allowed him to taste you enough so that he would fall asleep thinking about your lips. Donghyuck took a hold of your wrist, detaching your grip from his fabric and moved it up, silently telling you to wind your arms around his neck instead. The second you did it, he melded his lips with yours in a passion that matched the blazing sun, entangling his long arms around your waist, nearly lifting you off your feet as he embraced you tighter.

You wanted to preserve this moment. Right here, kissing fervidly under the soft rain in the arms of a stranger, drowned in the feelings of excitement. Because if you were oxygen, then Donghyuck was dying to breathe.

When it ended, you wished it didn’t have to. Donghyuck’s eyes were deep and intense as they peered into yours, growing a bit half-lidded when he shifted them back to your lips. “Hey.”

You mirrored his gentle smile, forehead pressing against his. “Hi…”

“I don’t know about you,” he chuckled lowly, “but as far as first kisses go, I think that was the best first kiss in the history of mankind.”

You tried to suppress your laughter but failed instantly. “Hyuck?”

“Yeah?”

“Judging from that line, I think you need to practice harder on your art of seduction.”

“Let’s just go back to kissing for now. I like kissing.” He pulled you in again, exchanging muffled giggles between playful kisses.

And if happiness had a form, it would’ve had his smile.

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I’m someone I don’t want around?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

It’s almost laughable that the memories that once sparked so much joy in his heart have taken a shape of javelin, striking him deep in his chest, right where he ached for you the most. It tasted like summer when he kissed you in the rain, and the pain that swells in Donghyuck’s heart whenever the memory of it suffices is harder than the storm. And now, it’s the silence of the room—the absence of your presence—that pierces his skin.

It was easy for him to fall in love with you. So easy, it frightened him at first. After his first relationship, the way his first love shed his heart to pieces, he thought he wouldn’t be able to love someone ever again. Wouldn’t have the courage to even try. But when you came into the picture, Donghyuck didn’t even have the strength to resist. You were everything he ever wanted, an epitome of the woman that graced his dreams. And he was a prisoner, trapped under your spell.

So, why does everything have to end?

Now that he’s falling without you catching him, what is he going to do?

He hates who he’s become. He loathes the fact that he can no longer easily smile like he used to. He despises how grimly he envisioned the world these days. As if you were his entire future, and now that you’re gone, his whole world collapses. Donghyuck no longer knows himself, as you were the one who defines him. The one who gave meaning to his life. The one who mended his broken heart.

What if I’m down? What if I’m out?

What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

You must hate me now, Donghyuck ponders, bringing his arm over his face, nibbling at the corner of his lip. The things I said… How I let you go without even giving us a chance… I must have hurt you…

It all began that night, on the day of your twenty-sixth birthday. Two years had passed since you shared your first kiss. Little fights over your differences couldn’t be avoided, but they helped nurture the bond you had with him, making it stronger. And each forgiveness was sincere and was rich in kisses. Donghyuck always made sure of that.

As you were fond of movies, your perfect date must involve watching a movie together with him so Donghyuck, dressed unusually handsomely in a white button-up shirt and black khakis that caught you off guard, took you out to the movie theater—the place where fate once meddled in and brought you to one another.

Knowing your taste, he paid two tickets to see the latest romantic movie, two buckets of popcorn, and a coke for him but iced green tea for you, realizing full well how soda had become one of your biggest enemies ever since your diet started. He made sure that your seats were located on the corner top of the theater, private enough for him to snuggle close to you or steal kisses whenever he felt like doing. You didn’t mind because Donghyuck would only kiss you when you seemed bored, never wanting to bother you when you were too immersed in the movie. He simply kept his hand laced with yours the whole time to make up for the loss.

Complaining about the plot holes and making jokes that only you two could understand had become Donghyuck’s habit to keep you entertained during the movie and it was something you always looked forward to. But that night, he was quiet, his eyebrows creasing in irritation but because of what, you were clueless.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you exited the building, this time being the one who reached out for his hand first. Donghyuck stiffened but his shoulders soon relaxing as he intertwined your fingers together.

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Why, do I not look fine?”

You weakly smiled back, uncertain. “You just seem awfully quiet, that’s all.”

He rubbed his nape, somehow looking a bit perturbed. “I just… It made me remember something I’ve been trying my best to forget.”

“You mean the movie?”

“Yeah.” He sighed into the night, puffs of hot air erupting from his slightly chapped lips. “I don’t know about you, but I think the way the movie depicted their long-distance relationship is just bullshit.”

There was so much bitterness in his words that it nearly made you stop walking. Suddenly, there was a thick tension around you, one that made you aware that it would be wiser to drop the conversation. But curiosity was eating you from the inside. He looked so crushed, so angry, and Donghyuck was turning into a whole other person before you.

You asked him what happened.

“I don’t think I want to talk about my past relationship when I’m celebrating a special night with my girlfriend.” He forced himself to laugh about it, but it sounded hollow.

You unconsciously tightened your grip around his hand. “I just wanted to understand you better.”

“Hey.” He pulled you toward him so abruptly, you ended up falling on his chest. His smile was warmer when he looked at you. “Without even knowing my past, you already understand me better than anyone.”

You were still unsettled when Donghyuck kissed your lips to divert your attention, softly biting your lower one just to joke around to ease the tension. “Ah, I can’t wait until we’re home,” he whispered when all laughter had receded and he had his fingers tucking your loose strands behind your ear. “I want to make love to you.”

Your heart beat thunderously inside your chest. “You’re—you’re just gonna say it so blatantly like that?” He used to be so shy about it, asking you to join him in bed by pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck instead of using words.

“Just wanted you to know my plans beforehand.” He simpered. “Or do you not want to?”

Face aflame, you hurriedly took a couple of strides forward, leading the way with your hand clamping his wrist. “Where are we going?” Donghyuck frowned but followed you nonetheless. “The restaurant is right there.”

“We can have dinner after.” You threw a look over your shoulder, too nervous to smile, but hoped your words would deliver. “Aren’t we going to make love?”

His astonished look soon turned delicate. Donghyuck’s smiles were always beautiful, but the ones that were caused by you were the brightest. 

As soon as the door clicked open, Donghyuck half-pushed, half-carried you inside his apartment that smelled pleasantly like him. He didn’t wait until it was properly closed before he latched his parted lips on your softer ones, fusing perfectly in the way no one ever could. A stinging pain erupted from the back of your head when Donghyuck drove you to the wall, not knowing his own strength, but when you groaned against his mouth, it was solely because you needed him as much as he needed you.

“I love you,” he breathlessly said against your neck, tearing your coat away from your body, fingers slipping underneath your dress. “I love you so much, it’s insane.”

It had been three months since you first exchanged the sacred three words, but no matter how much Donghyuck had whispered them to your ears, painted them to your skin with his lips, it still felt like the first time you heard him say the words. It wasn’t just because of how many promises he held underneath them, it was the way he said them—so sincerely, so desperately, as if you were running out of time and he needed you to hear them before you disappeared from his life.

“I—” You flinched, pulling him for another kiss again when Donghyuck hooked his fingers on the side of your lingerie, hastily pushing it down your thighs. “I love you too—Hyuck—”

The bed was not more than twenty steps away but it was long forgotten when Donghyuck, still with his teeth ghosting across your lower lip, hastily unzipped himself and pushed his jeans and boxers lower enough for your hand to find and stroke him to life. “God, baby—” he hissed when you curled your fingers around him, hot breath caressing your jawline. “I want—I need to be inside you—just—”

No one had ever wanted you the way he did. Every kiss was nearly bruising, every hug was almost suffocating, the thrill of it all was overwhelming. 

It was almost a whine that escaped his lips when he vocalized your name. As soon as his desperate gasp and pleading moan reached your ears, the butterflies came alive in your stomach. Your skin tingled, even with the lightest brush of his lips. Your fingers found home in his hair when he kissed the valley between your breasts, tugging at his soft strands and earning a low grunt in response.

You gave him a sign, affirming that it was okay to continue and Donghyuck wasted no time. Pushing the fabric of your dress as much as he could until it pooled around your waist, he lifted one of your legs and wrapped it around his hips, one hand sliding down to prop up your thigh, the other one aligning his tip against your entrance.

The friction made you moan, both in pain and passion, as Donghyuck slid himself in one swift motion. The second he was sheathed deep inside, waiting for you to adjust to his size, he drew out a long sigh, eyes shut close as he relished the sensation. But when your gaze met, his half-lidded eyes were gentler than they had been the entire day. Careful fingers framed your face, his thumb rubbing comforting circles along your cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

You weakly nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Are you?”

His chuckles were light and bashful. “I’m feeling great,” he said. He moved his hips without warning, just a little, not too fast, not too deep, but the sensation was enough to make you whimper and Donghyuck swallowed every little noise you made directly with his lips.

A certain thrust made you squeeze around him and he drowned out his moan by mouthing against your shoulder, teeth prickling against the skin. “Fuck, do that again, baby, please.” And as he continued hitting the same spot, it was a given that you provided the same reaction.

Donghyuck was insanely good at making you feel good, and in return, you wanted to give him everything that he desired. “I love how you feel around me,” he confessed under his breath, as if he was talking to himself. “Perfect—you’re so perfect for me—”

Your arms were frantically clutching around his neck, trying to maintain stability when Donghyuck pushed you up the wall, now lifting both of your feet off the ground. He buried himself deeper, moved his hips faster, and kissed you with the desperation of a dying man.

You tried to hold back but you couldn’t. It was too much. His breathless moans in your ear, the frantic sway of his hips, the closeness of your bodies—everything was overwhelming and you came hard on his length, legs wrapping tightly around his waist as Donghyuck chased after your lips. 

“Fuck,” he breathed heavily, his jaw hung low. The way you quivered and clenched around him sent fire through his veins. “Did you just come?” he whispered and you bit your lip in shame. The tiny laugh that broke free from his lips were both playful and filled with tenderness. “Already? That was fast.”

Flustered but not given the chance to react, you inhaled sharply when Donghyuck picked up the pace. He was almost growling when his lips grazed against the shell of your ear. “Actually, me too,” he moaned, “Is it—can I come inside?”

You nodded fervently, embracing him tighter and Donghyuck buried his head in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he came.

When he let you slide down to your feet, your knees gave out under your weight and you stumbled back to his chest. He held you close, laughing as he kissed the top of your head. “I’m sorry, come here.” Bending down slightly, Donghyuck hooked one arm under your knees and another one behind your back. He carried you in his arms, teasing, “The sex was so good, you could barely stand, huh?”

You playfully slapped his chest. “Shut up.”

But all of his mischievousness dissipated as soon as you both slipped under the duvet, his bedsheets felt silky smooth under your spine. He cleaned the stain that dripped down your thighs with a warm towel, but dipped his head down to taste you directly with his tongue the second he was finished with it. Donghyuck’s eyes never left yours, placing gentle kisses on the inner sides of your thighs and two more on your clit before he slid his tongue along your folds, slowly, as if he had the whole time in the world to please you.

He was always gentler the second time, slower with more feelings instead of sheer passion. So when he slid himself into you again, his forehead was pressed against yours, lips curving up into an innocent smile. “I never want to let you go,” he chuckled between tiny moans. “I want to stay just like this with you, forever.”

“I don’t think it’s physically possible,” you giggled, raking your nails down his spine and he arched his back in response. 

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could stay connected like this all the time, though?” Donghyuck broke away, sitting on his heels as he rested one of your legs on his shoulder. His fingers were kneading the skin of your thigh, hugging your leg close to his chest as he rocked his hips slowly, savoring every moment. “I mean, ah, doesn’t this feel good?”

You nibbled at your lip, sighing. Good was an understatement but you weren’t sure you could find a term to perfectly define how amazing he felt around you. From where you laid on the bed, you could take a good look at Donghyuck’s eyes—the way they drooped slightly, clouded with both affection and infatuation every time they met yours. How the muscles in his abs were flexing with every movement. The sinful, obscene sway of his hips. The little smirk that broke on his face when you accidentally moaned his name too loud—Donghyuck was... Beautiful. Irresistible. Sexy. 

“Baby?” Donghyuck called, chuckling softly as he peppered open-mouthed kisses to your ankle that made you stare in a haze. “You okay down there?”

You pursed your lips. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Yeah?” He brought your leg down so he could fall back into your arms, mouth meeting your jawline before it moved to playfully bite the tip of your nose. “Well, I’ve got something else you could also enjoy.”

You hummed, trying your best to contain your moan when he suddenly brought his fingers down to rub against your clit. “And what’s that?” Though by the way he slammed his hips harder against yours served as an obvious answer.

“Some caramel pudding,” he answered, nipping against your neck as he grinned, careful enough not to leave any marks. “They’re in the fridge. You’ll love them.”

It was hard to focus when he kept hitting the spot that made you curl your toes. “Hyuck...” You pushed a loose strand of his hair behind his ear before you caressed his cheek. “I love you.”

His movements stopped, eyes peering into yours, stunned at first, then melted into something softer than the breath of summer. “I love you too.” His lips never left yours as they spoke each loving word with more sentimentality and less urgency. “And happy birthday, baby...”

When both of you had no strength left but to cuddle in each other’s arms, you gathered the courage to ask once more. “Hyuck?”

“Hmm?”

“I still want to know, after all. About what happened to you earlier. You looked so distraught—I can’t rest before I know what upsets you.”

Donghyuck’s fingers stopped momentarily from carding through your strands but with a heavy sigh, he surrendered.

It was his first relationship with his first love, back when he was sixteen. They were together for four years but knew each other for ten. She was a close friend that grew into something more. Even loving words didn’t need to be exchanged as they could practically finish each other’s thoughts. You felt a pang of jealousy gnawing at you from the inside, at the thought of him having someone so important in his life—someone who had stayed with him longer than you’d met him—someone whose name couldn’t be spoken as it triggered too many emotions.

But for the sake of understanding him, you cast your jealousy aside, no matter how much it hurt.

Donghyuck’s voice had lost its usual cheeriness when he reminisced his past. By the time they graduated high school, she decided to continue her study in Japan. Donghyuck let her go, supporting her plans and dreams like the perfect boyfriend that he was. They were committed to each other, faithful to one another. Donghyuck never doubted her, not even once.

Until one day, during a summer break, he decided to pay her a visit. He bought airplane tickets with the money he’d saved up for months, along with a thoughtful gift for her birthday. But the second he saw her opening the door to her apartment, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

She was never alone. He was.

“Why are you here?” She asked, as if his presence was a bother. Him, the man whom she claimed she’d loved with her entire soul for the last four years. The man whom she had made love to on his bed just six months earlier. Donghyuck would never forget the look she had on her face that day.

“It’s funny how you’ve been with this person your whole life,” Donghyuck breathily said, eyes locked to the ceiling. “And you thought you knew them like the back of your hand and then one day, they betrayed you in the way you thought they were incapable of doing.”

You couldn’t find your voice, blending in with the silence of the room.

But he didn’t hate her, Donghyuck confessed. He hated himself. He hated how stupid—how innocent and gullible he was. He hated how easily he let someone else carry his heart around and let them do whatever they want with it. He knew that she wouldn’t have the power to destroy him, if he didn’t give her the chance. Maybe, if his thoughts weren’t as clouded by his feelings, he would’ve noticed the little sighs she made whenever he told her he loved her. He would’ve noticed the way she sounded much brighter when she talked about her life instead of their lives together during their late-night calls. He would’ve noticed how distant she sounded whenever she spoke his name, as if it was just another meaningless word and not the one that she used to murmur in short gasps near his ear.

And maybe if I hadn’t fallen in love...

Donghyuck fell mute for a few seconds as if he was drifted to another time and space. The hurting look on his face was so vivid that it broke you just by seeing it. Attempting to wash the pain away, you placed a hand on his cheek and Donghyuck grew rigid once before he melted into smiles, leaning into your touch.

“I had to stay for a whole week in a country I didn’t know because I couldn’t refund my ticket. All alone, since my girlfriend cheated on me and didn’t even care to apologize about it,” he murmured against your palm, still sounding bitter but with more ease. “So yeah, I probably have some trust issues now because of that.” He tried to laugh it off. “But it’s all right. I don’t care. I have you now, right?” He laid on his side, facing you with a boyish smile that made your heart race just a little bit faster. “I’m starting on a new page with you. And as long as you’re here with me, I’m the happiest man in the world.”

You reflected his smile though your heart was unsettled. “You’re lame.”

“Excuse me, I’m in love,” he corrected, pouting. But when his hand found yours, his expression grew tender again. Kissing each of your fingertips, he murmured, “We’ll always be together, right? Promise you won’t do that to me, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He knew what loving you could cost him, but you were different. And he was different. He wouldn’t fall into the same trap. He knew how to protect himself this time. So he allowed himself to love you just as much, if not more, moving on but never forget.

Your eyes were focusing on the way he brought your index finger between his lips, the tip pressing against his hot tongue. “Yes,” you softly whispered, hooking a finger around his silver necklace, pulling him in for a kiss. “We’ll always be together.”

So when you received a job promotion a year later, you didn’t know what to say to him. It was your dream job, finally achieving that position after practically hanging on for dear life for five years working in the company. The salary exceeded your expectation, and you would be working under a senior that you admired. The company would pay for all your living expenses, give you your own flat to live with a balcony where you could see the sun rising behind the skyscrapers. It all sounded so perfect. Too perfect.

Except for the part where you had to move to another country that stood three thousand miles from where he was.

You knew you should’ve said something to Donghyuck the first time your director broke the news to you. But you couldn’t as you didn’t know how. During the three years of your relationship, both of you had avoided talking about matters that could lead to fights, only allowing yourselves to discuss trivial, daily things that would make the other pout in annoyance but not fury. The first time you noticed this happened, was when both of you became too busy dealing with your own lives. You had your job to think about, while Donghyuck had his thesis to work on and there wasn’t much time to focus on each other even when you were staying in the same room.

Donghyuck often released his stress by nuzzling his nose against your neck, pulling you into his lap, whispering, “I miss you,” and you reciprocated each time with a kiss but you both stopped before it got too much, with you patting his cheek, apologizing to him with both words and your eyes, “I’m sorry, but I have a Zoom meeting in an hour so I really need to get my presentation done.”

He just sighed, pressing a tiny kiss between your eyebrows. “Well then, I’m gonna go catch some sleep. Don’t work too hard.”

And as he walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone in his living room, you realized the distance that grew between you. He used to look back, peeking his head through the door, saying, “Would it really kill you to just join me for, like, fifteen minutes? I’ll be fast, I swear,” which you would answer with a laugh, assuming he was joking. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

Now, he doesn’t even stop to say good night.

You knew you could fix it—he knew he could fix it too—but none of you ever said anything about it, afraid that it would trigger something bigger that neither of you wouldn’t be able to fix.

It didn’t mean that you didn’t try. Every weekend, you would commit yourself fully for him and Donghyuck would accept your unspoken apology with all his heart. You once attempted to drop some clues about your promotion during dinner when he made you your favorite dish, grinning from ear-to-ear as he waited for your reaction. Donghyuck’s Spaghetti Aglio e olio never disappointed you, but you know your words would. So when he was smiling at you, his thumb gliding along your knuckles as he took your hand in his, how could you tell him? 

I just need more time to prepare myself. To find a better way to explain.

But before you could find your words, Donghyuck found your promotion letter.

“What is this?” He asked to your horror, body leaning against the doorframe, your letter in his hand.

The maroon dress you were trying to fold fell from your lap as you stood up abruptly, eyes widening in shock. “That’s—where did you get—”

“What is this?”

“It’s...” You trembled. “My promotion letter.”

“Are you planning to tell me about it?” He wasn’t shouting, didn’t even raise his voice, but to your ears, his voice was thunderous.  

You fidgeted, fingers fisting the hemline of your shirt, desperate for comfort. “Of course, I—” But there were no words. Your brain was too jumbled to find a proper excuse. So when Donghyuck just lowered his gaze, eyes growing colder, and left the room, you could only call out his name.

He only stopped in his tracks when you grasped his wrist. “Did you say yes to this?” His voice was quiet, eerily so, that it sent shivers down your spine.

You nibbled at your bottom lip. “I was—”

“Yes or no?”

He only allowed you to choose, not explain. With a deep breath, you mumbled out, “Yes.”

There was a moment of silence where you could only hear your stuttered breathing but none of his. “Three months,” he murmured, voice deep and hoarse that you barely recognized it. “The letter is three months old. You had all this time to tell me.”

Panic was bubbling up your chest. “I was going to tell you but—”

The rest of your words died instantly the second Donghyuck slammed the letter on the dining table. Without another word, he stomped off to the front door, grabbing his coat.

“Wait!” You chased after his trails, knees wobbling. “Where are you—”

The door was shut close with a bang.

No matter how many times you tried to call him, he never answered. The only thing you could do was stay in his apartment and waited until he came back to his senses. Now that you were alone in the living room, you began to notice just how much of your belongings were positioned in every corner of his apartment. Your toothbrush was next to his, your clothes were hanging inside his wardrobe, your favorite books were on his shelf, and the walls were painted with more photographs of you than his own. In every picture, you could see yourself smiling in his arms, laughing at something he did or said because that was it, wasn’t it? Donghyuck was the only one who could make you smile so freely, without a care in the world.

So why are we in this position?

It was your first big fight and you had no one to blame but yourself. Hours had passed by and tears began to well from how frustrated you were with yourself, but the front door flung open before they could outline your cheeks.

“Hyuck,” you called out, heart breaking at the sound of his name. Donghyuck’s hair was ruffled by the wind, his nose and cheeks reddening from the cold night air. His hands were in his coat’s pockets, his eyes hiding behind his bangs as he kicked his shoes away. He walked past you as if you weren’t there, heading straight to the bedroom.

Judging from the scent and his droopy eyes, you knew he had been drinking. “Are you okay?”

No answer. He took his coat off, throwing it to the bed, along with his phone—which was clearly functional as always. You had expected him to dismiss your calls, but it still hurt being ignored.

Eyebrows knitting in concern, you went to the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee, hoping that a little caffeine would ease the tension as it was something you were both fond of. You stopped to catch your breath, noticing that it was one in the morning.

What should I do?

“Hyuck…” You carefully said, voice quieter than usual as you walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind you. “I’ve made you some coffee. It’ll help warm you up.”

Donghyuck was sitting at the edge of the bed, his phone in his hands, blatantly ignoring you.

“Can we…” You hesitated, fingers curling into tiny balls of fists. “Can we talk..?”

But the silence was deafening.

“Hyuck—”

“What?!” He suddenly roared, making you take a step back, flinching. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I…” You swallowed your breath. “I know you’re upset about me leaving and I’m sorry—”

“Oh, so now you want to talk about this? After I found out about your letter?” Donghyuck didn’t wait for your response. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this a secret from me! What else are you not telling me?”

Heart dropping to the stomach, you weakly replied, “Nothing, just... I was going to tell you—”

“Yeah? When, exactly?” Donghyuck stood up, throwing his phone to the bed. “When you’re about to go? When you’re about to disappear from my life just like her?”

Being put in the same position as the person who tore his heart to pieces was both sickening and infuriating. “Of course not, I won’t do that to you! I won’t leave you—”

“But that’s all that everybody fucking said!” He threw his hands in the air. “That’s what she said when—”

“Well, I’m not her!” The booming sound of your voice startled you both, but it grew weak in comparison when the eerie silence followed. “Hyuck, you can’t blame me for what she did. I’m not her. I’m not her replacement. Don’t compare me with her.”

For a moment, Donghyuck’s lips were pressed tightly until they grew white. “I never compared you with her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not until now when you’re doing the same thing, saying the exact same thing to me.”

You cowered slightly under his gaze. The sound of the ticking clock had never felt so loud when you fought for words to say. “It’s my dream job, Hyuck. I’ve been waiting all my life to get this position.”

“Congratulations.” He scoffed, clenching his jaw. “I’m so glad you get what you wanted.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to say words you don’t mean.”

He clicked his tongue in vexation. “Yeah, well, I would’ve meant them, if you had told me about this sooner.”

“I wasn’t able to tell you because I thought you’d be upset about it—”

“Well, I suppose, postponing it until we’re counting days till your leave is going to make me feel fucking elated, isn’t that right, Sweetheart?” There had never been a day where you thought his adorable, warm laughter could turn into something so spiteful. “Let me guess. You’re leaving in like, what, a month?”

You rubbed your tears away before they fell. “Six weeks.”

“Oh, that makes everything so much better! Six weeks!” He cynically laughed, throwing his head back. “You know what? You’re right. I’m so happy. Never been this fucking happy in my whole goddamn life—”

“What do you want me to do?!” The frustration that welled inside your chest finally broke through your lips. “You want me to turn back time so I could tell you right after I heard the news three months ago?”

Donghyuck averted his gaze, his hand going to his head, pulling at his hair roots. “I just don’t understand why if this is so important to you—and if I’m so important to you—why don’t you talk this out with me? Don’t you care about what I think? About how I’d feel?”

Tears were running faster than you could wipe them off your cheeks. “I couldn’t find the right time to tell you.” You choked out. “ And you were busy working on your final thesis too, I didn’t want to bother you—”

“That’s your excuse?!” he gasped in disbelief. “I don’t fucking care about my thesis. I care about you! And you knew how I felt about this—about being in a long-distance relationship—"

“That was the reason why I was waiting for the right time until—“

“Until you can tell me that you’re leaving.” He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m tired and we’re going in circles. Why are we even discussing this when you’ve made the decision all by yourself.”

Embittered, you asked, “Do you want me to choose between you and my career?”

“No. I don’t.” He finally peered into your eyes, and you could see how there was not as much anger as sadness that emerged in his eyes. “But I’m making my own decision.” When you frowned in confusion, Donghyuck looked away, staring at the wall that was filled with memories as he spoke. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“What?” It felt like the world was swallowing you whole. “What did you say?”

Exchanging stares with you, Donghyuck appeared more weary than furious. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

“You’re drunk.” You reasoned out, both in efforts to calm him down and to wash the fear away from your chest. “You won’t be saying any of this if you were sober.”

Donghyuck’s eyes grew colder. “If that’s what makes you sleep at night, sure. Go ahead and think that way.”

Dread was coursing through your veins, making you feel terrified of what was coming. “Wait,” you almost pleaded, “We need to talk about this.”

“I think we’ve talked enough.”

“Can’t we at least try—”

“I can’t.” The confession escaped his lips, his eyes were heartbroken, as if it was you who was breaking up with him and not the other way around. “You know I can’t do this. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I don’t want to be that guy who constantly gets suspicious or overly protective of you because of my past. It won’t be fair to you.”

“I don’t care if you’re being unfair,” you replied shakily, “I just don’t want us to end what we have now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice grew softer. “If we continue this, I know I’ll end up saying things I never mean to say. With three thousand miles between us, how often do you think we can see each other? With you being so busy with your new job, how often can we speak?” But the bitterness in his voice came alive when he added, “We could barely do that when we were in the same room before.”

“It’s about that..?” Realization washed over you like a wave. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Same reason as you,” he replied, “To protect our relationship. That’s what we always do, isn’t it? Pretending everything is fine when it’s not?”

“Hyuck, I’ve tried my best to spend time with you... I thought you’d understand that I have a job—”

“You’re right, but unlike you, I don’t.” Donghyuck weakly smiled. “I don’t have anything going on with my life except you. I don’t even know if I can graduate in time. But you’ve achieved so much. You’re only a few years older than me and yet you’ve already had everything figured out, and I admire you for that.” His words sounded sincere but it only tore your heart open even more. Donghyuck walked closer, his fingers pushing the bangs out of your eyes like the way he used to do but it didn’t feel the same. “You’re already perfect the way you are now. You don’t need me in your life.”

“No.” The desperation was so thick in your voice, that it made you wince but not regret. “You’re wrong, you—There’s not a day where I don’t need you, Hyuck. I want you to stay with me. Come with me. We still have time.”

You don’t mean that. Donghyuck brought his head down, unable to meet your eyes. If you did, you would’ve told me about this sooner. “And then what?” he sighed, sounding so tired. “What am I going to do if I come with you? I haven’t even finished my study, let alone having a job.”

“You can find one in—”

“In a country where I can’t even speak the language?” He bitterly smiled. “I doubt it. I’m not gonna let you pay for my needs—”

“Then, I’ll make some time for you, I promise. Better this time.” Your fingernails were sinking into your palms from how tightly you curled them. “No matter how far we are from each other, I’ll call you every day.”

“I don’t want that.” His words were laced with frustration. “I don’t want you to force yourself to do something for me. And I don’t want to spend my nights imagining whether you’re spending yours with someone else.”

“You...” You were so quiet, you wondered if he could hear you properly. “You don’t trust me?”

But Donghyuck shook his head, gaze softening. “I do. I just don’t trust myself.”

Your mind turned into a blank slate, unable to form a word. Donghyuck’s breathing tattered a little when he exhaled, walking to his wardrobe to pick out some clothes. “I’m gonna go stay at Mark’s for the weekend. Feel free to take out your stuff. Just drop the keys at the lobby when you’re finished.”

You stood still, frozen. It almost felt like a heart attack from the way your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I don’t want to lose you, Hyuck,” you quietly professed, “I thought we could work this out...”

Donghyuck’s movements were put to a halt, just for a couple of seconds, before he continued shoving his clothes down his bag.

You stood on the side as he walked past you, his natural sandalwood scent had disappeared, buried under the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. “So, this is it…?” You fretted. “For us..?”

Donghyuck stopped walking, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “It’s better for both of us, don’t you think?”

But he didn’t wait to hear your answer.

When you dared to appear at his front door six weeks later, it was the night before your departure. He hadn’t called, hadn’t sent you a single text, as if he was a ghost, only living in your imagination. But knowing it was your last chance to see him, you decided to take the first step.

Donghyuck was wearing the same navy blue knitted sweater that he wore the first time you told him you loved him. You remembered how startled he was back then, unsure of what to say as he was afraid to love someone else after knowing how it felt to have his heart shattered to pieces. That time, he only responded with a hug and a small “Thank you.” As you laid in his arms later that night, you spent every second with your eyes closed but your thoughts awake, trying to figure out why won’t he say it back? 

But when you left for work early on the next morning, one arm holding an umbrella over your head to protect you from the morning showers, Donghyuck was chasing after you in the same knitted sweater, his hair messy from sleep but soon be drenched by the rain.

“I love you too!” he shouted, breathlessly, both from running and the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins.

You turned around, eyes wide in astonishment, though you didn’t catch his words. “What—” You were about to run so you could shelter him from the rain, but Donghyuck reached your spot faster than you could reach his. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” You dropped your handbag to the ground, not caring if it got wet from the rain as you focused more on the man who was shivering in front of you. You rubbed his arm up and down before cupping his face. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine. I just have something to say before you go.” He broke into a tender smile, pressing his palm against the back of your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back last night. I was afraid. Being in love with someone means you’re giving your heart for them to hold or to crush and I didn’t want to go through that pain again but—” He stepped closer, his temple nearly touching yours as he brought his head down. “I love you. I want you to know that I love you too. I don’t want to lie to myself anymore and I don’t care what’s gonna happen in the future. I just love you, so much, that both my heart and my head feel like they’re going to burst.”

And you could only stare, dumbstruck and in awe.

“Say something, please?” He begged, cold fingers caressing your cheek. “Otherwise, I might have to crawl into a hole and die from shame.”

You chuckled lightly, overwhelmed by the sheer happiness that washed over you. “I love you too.”

He seemed so relieved, almost as much as you were, and he twisted his fingers around your strands, chasing after your lips. The kiss was sweeter than honey but knowing him, even the sweetest kiss emitted so much passion, it left you breathless.

“I’m sorry, I know you gotta go to work,” he said, slightly pushing you away before his emotions defeated him once more and he slanted his lips against yours in a more frenzied manner. “God, I know you have to go,” he whispered between needy kisses. “But just—one more—”

When he finally had the strength to break apart from you, his eyes were conflicted, his thumb caressing your cheek, and Donghyuck wetted his already glistened lip as he stared at yours. “Must you go? I want to be with you today.”

It didn’t matter that the two of you just spent the entire weekend together. No amount of time would be enough to satisfy your needs for each other’s touch. So you answered him with your lips meeting his in a frantic kiss, casting your umbrella aside and it didn’t matter that it was cold, with big droplets of rain easily drenching you from head to toe, because Donghyuck was always ready to warm you up. 

“Then take me home, Lee Donghyuck.”

But you realized as he tugged you back into his arms, soft lips pressing against your temple, you were already home.

Now… That memory felt like a fantasy, one that you could only dream of having.

“I…” You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just wanted to get the books I left on your shelf.”

He didn’t say a word, only stepping to the side to give you some space to enter. A month had passed by since he broke up with you, and his apartment still smelled delightfully like him, but instead of making you feel joy, it broke your heart even harder.  

“It’s in my room,” he said, all stern with no warmth like he used to have. You nodded, making your way to his bedroom. When you closed the bedroom door behind you, hot tears were about to spill and you tried your best not to be suffocated with the memories of the nights where you used to share your feelings with him, bodies tangled underneath the sheets, lips carving marks on each other’s skins.

You couldn’t breathe.

By the time you managed to collect yourself, you came out of his room with two of your books in your hands while you left ten more on his shelf. You didn’t need any of them. It was only a poor excuse for you to see his eyes once more before you bid your final farewell.

“I made you some coffee,” he said, leaning against the coffee table. “It’s cold outside so…”

You weakly smiled. “Thank you.”

You used to spend hours chattering behind a few cups of coffee, talking about the things that mattered and things that didn’t because everything felt special when you shared them with someone you loved.

But today, every sip of your coffee sounded louder than your voice as no words were shared.

You said you care

And you missed me too

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

“How are you?”

“I’m doing great,” he answered formally. It’s funny how he didn’t need spiteful words to hurt you. The absence of his affection in his sentences was more than enough to strangle you.

“Are you… still writing lyrics for Mark’s songs these days?”

“No. I’m busy these days.”

“Oh… With your thesis?”

“Sure.”

Donghyuck didn’t tell you the truth. Didn’t tell you how many papers had been written, scratched, discarded just so he could deal with the thoughts of you. Didn’t tell you the words he wrote about your pretty eyes, your pretty smiles, your kindness, your passion, your everything.

The reason why he let you go was because he knew, you would probably stay with him if he’d asked the question. He didn’t want you to have any regrets. Didn’t want you to choose him because you felt like you had no other way.

It felt like you betrayed him when you kept it a secret for months.

What else will you keep from me, if you can’t even tell me you’re leaving? Will you keep it a secret when you no longer love me the way you used to? Will you keep it a secret when you find someone new, someone better, someone who can stay to wipe your tears and hold you in their arms while I’m three thousand miles away from you? Will you pretend like everything is fine, when we’re straying further away from each other every day?

In Donghyuck’s mind, he thought you’d be better on your own. At such a young age, you managed to chase after your dreams while he was still unsure of what he wanted to have in the future. To him, you were always a step ahead. And tomorrow, you’d be taking your first step to another place where he wouldn’t have the strength to follow. 

His thoughts about you were never-ending. And he wrote so much, poured every feeling down to papers, that now as you stood before him in person, there were no more words left to be said and he could only reply your sentences with silence.

And the coffee's out

At the Beachwood Cafe

And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” you eventually said and Donghyuck glanced at you from behind his bangs, but never stayed for a second longer.

He knew. Of course, he did. He had been counting the days, dreading every second of it. “Take care of yourself,” he responded in a way a stranger would say to another stranger at the end of their brief meeting. “Good luck with your job. I’m sure you’ll be fine, Noona.”

Noona... He didn’t even want to call you by your name or the sweet terms he’d once associated with you. You were truly strangers now.

“Thanks.” You forced yourself to smile, nails sinking into your thighs as you brought your hands to your lap. “You too. Don’t forget to take your breakfast every day. You always skip it.”

It was your job to remind him, who used to serve fried eggs and toasts on his plate and maybe Donghyuck remembered that too because he brought his head down, and simply replied with a hum.

When you took your leave, you handed him a note to your new address. “Just… Come visit whenever you’re in the country. I’d love to show you around.” It sickened you how formal you sounded, but you couldn’t say it any other way.

When Donghyuck took the note, your fingers brushed against his, it almost seemed like the time stopped, just for a little, and he wanted to pull you into his embrace, to tell you how much he’d been missing you the same way you’d been missing him. To tell you how much he wanted to be selfish, to have you choose him over everything in your life because that was how you meant to him. You were everything to him.

Just like how you are to me.

So when he dropped his hand, tucking it inside his pocket, you knew it was really over. Finally, the word goodbye took its true form.

And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again.

[96thdayofrage]

Formerly enslaved man's response to his 'master' wanting him back is a literary masterpiece

In 1825, at the approximate age of 8, Jordan Anderson (sometimes spelled "Jordon") was sold into slavery and would live as a servant of the Anderson family for 39 years. In 1864, the Union Army camped out on the Anderson plantation and he and his wife, Amanda, were liberated. The couple eventually made it safely to Dayton, Ohio, where, in July 1865, Jordan received a letter from his former owner, Colonel P.H. Anderson. The letter kindly asked Jordan to return to work on the plantation because it had fallen into disarray during the war.

On Aug. 7, 1865, Jordan dictated his response through his new boss, Valentine Winters, and it was published in the Cincinnati Commercial. The letter, entitled "Letter from a Freedman to His Old Master," was not only hilarious, but it showed compassion, defiance, and dignity. That year, the letter would be republished in the New York Daily Tribune and Lydia Marie Child's "The Freedman's Book."

The letter mentions a "Miss Mary" (Col. Anderson's Wife), "Martha" (Col. Anderson's daughter), Henry (most likely Col. Anderson's son), and George Carter (a local carpenter).

Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865 To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jordon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy, — the folks call her Mrs. Anderson, — and the children — Milly, Jane, and Grundy — go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve — and die, if it come to that — than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant, Jordon Anderson

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.19

The True Heir

03/09/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,781

Warnings: angst, depression, pregnancy, marital troubles, pining

A/N: There is very little editing. Forgive me. I’m sleepy. I’ve been up writing all night. I’ve also been hurting, but it’s all good! I’m so happy to get this chapter out. *insert evil laugh* If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! it truly means so much, more than you know. xoxo

Sunday

Today you do nothing.

You’d opened up your laptop last night and attempted to scribble a few lines for your next book, but all you could think about was Thor, Jane, the babies to come, and where exactly you fit amongst all of it.

After typing Thor’s name along with a few other random words for the tenth time, you gave up and shut the laptop. You’d crawled into bed, bundled up under your fluffy comforter, and bid goodbye to the world as you caved in to unconsciousness.

The fact that morning is here, you find that your hope for today to be better than  yesterday was silly. How can anything ever be good again?

You place your hands on your lower tummy, caressing what feels like a very slight swell. It’s just barely harder than the rest of your stomach. Firm. Despite the happiness that your baby brings you, you stare across the room at your computer and can’t find it in you to get up and work.

Instead you roll over onto your other side and pull Thor’s--that is to say, the one he’d used while he was here--pillow over to cling to.

Thor’s texts are also still fresh in your mind.

Sleep didn’t dull their effect on you or the confusion they raised.

Did they mean that he wouldn’t get an annulment? That’s sorta what you were getting from them. His declarations that he couldn’t live without you and that he would die for you and that he missed you so much at his side sounded like he was also telling himself how he felt. As if he were, not so much convincing, but reaffirming what he already knew.

You reach over and switch your phone on, clicking through to your messages to find that Thor must have stolen his phone back from Loki at some point.

Thor: Good morning, my cherub. I hope you slept well.

Thor: I could hardly sleep with you absent beside me.

Thor: Our bed is too big without you in it.

Thor: Have you seen the doctor yet? You’ll text me as soon as you get a diagnosis, won’t you? I’ll be waiting.

Thor: Loki insists that I give you some distance to rest but being apart from you is torture.

Thor: Would you be very angry with me if I came to see you?

Thor: I have some things I must deal with here before I can go though. Loki is right. I should allow you rest and fix things here before I come to you.

Thor: Are you still sleeping, cherub? I’m sorry if my messages are disturbing you. I haven’t gone this long without talking to you since...I wish I’d met you years ago. When things weren’t so complicated.

Thor: Would you have let me court you even though I am the God of Thunder? Future King of Asgard? Would you have married me when I came back with my people to live here on Earth?

Thor: I think if I had to choose all over again, you’re still the only woman equal to the task of being my Queen.

Thor: And the love that has grown between us is...I will never take it for granted…

As you read that last message, you assume he wants to say he won’t take it for granted again. He’s already let it slip through his fingers, although he doesn’t know it yet.

Thor: Perhaps this can be that break you were talking of. For our baby? Maybe we do need a little bit of relaxation to let our bodies recover?

Thor: And yet, I can’t wait to start a family with you, cherub.

You’re bawling all over again, your eyes flooding with tears as you bury your face into his pillow and sob loudly.

He’d said that he missed your body next to his. You can relate. You want to feel the heavy fall of his chest, the deep breaths that fill his lungs and escape through his lips in a quiet little snore that always makes you cuddle into his side.

Normally, he’d respond by turning to face you and holding you right up against his chest.

The comfort that simple thing would give you right now when your heart is aching so painfully is what you so desperately need. But...you’re so angry too. You don’t want him near you.

The images that flood your mind are torture. Mixtures of pleasant, happy moments now marred by the betrayal and anger that has taken hold of your heart.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream until your throat really does go hoarse. Frustration at the force of change you’ve had to make in the past twenty-four hours.

You’re startled back to the present when your phone rings. You make a small attempt  to clear your throat then answer and the absolute gravel voice you use settles any wondering as to whether your illness is real.

“Hello?” you whisper, clearing your throat to no avail.

“Oh, cherub, you sound terrible.”

Your heart panics. How are you supposed to talk to him?

You don’t want to talk to him.

“I can’t really talk,” you say weakly hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Did the doctor see you already?” Thor asks, his worry evident in the quiet tone of his voice.

“Yes, he gave me some medicine and told me to try not to talk,” you lie, surprisingly easy right now since you don’t want to talk.

For your emotional sanity, you need to hang up soon.

“I’m so sorry, love. I wish I could take this illness from you. Where’s David? I’d like to talk to him.”

You panic again, floundering as you cough and clear your throat to buy some time.

“He’s not here. He went to the store to get some groceries,” you hope he buys it.

“I’ll call him a little later then. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks, Thor,” you mumble, suddenly not wanting to hang up.

How can one person give you so much ease and worry all at once? How can he be your source of agony and comfort at the same time? It’s not fair.

“I have so much to tell you, but...now is not the right time. You need to get better first.”

Nevermind! Fuck this guy. Your heart sinks.

“I have to go,” you tell him, hoping he’ll just hang up and leave you be now.

“Very well. I love you, cherub.”

How do you answer him without giving anything away just yet?

“Me too,” you choose. And it’s true.

Even if he’s torn your heart into pieces, he’s still the father of your baby and you still love him.

Whatever madness overcame him when he’d suggested to Loki getting an annulment was the best course of action seems to have passed. Loki must be right about him.

“Bye, Thor,” you whimper.

“Bye, Y/N,” he says your name, making your heart quake a bit.

You hang up and quickly dial up David.

He answers after two rings.

“Hello? How is my favorite girl in the whole wide world?”

He sounds amused by something, or just happy. It’s such a difference to how you feel at the moment that it breaks you and you sob again, renewing your tears.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” David demands, clearly now beginning to fret over the way you sound.

You tell him everything. Somehow you manage to get it all out minus one important detail and when you’re done recounting the most horrible night of your life, David sighs heavily and you can almost picture him settling into a deep armchair with massive worry weighing on his shoulders.

“Well, the good thing is, if he goes through with an annulment, you’re to be given a monthly allowance for the rest of your life. It was a condition in your contract, should Thor change his mind about marrying you. But he didn’t so it was moot, until now. You will be a very rich woman. More so than the small fortune you originally inherited.

“I know that money is hardly a consolation for the man that you love-” David sighs again. “Perhaps he said it in madness? He must have been very upset. Caught by surprise?” David offers.

“Even if he doesn’t mean it or doesn’t go through with it, I know that for you the point is the thought was there.

“However, I do think we must make allowances for Thor. I’m sorry to say. He is a king and he’s responsible for his entire people. A baby would give them security. Stability. A legitimate heir would tie them to Earth forever.

“We musn’t make light of his choices. This isn’t a common situation to find one’s self in. For either of you.”

“David, I’m pregnant.” You finally explain, knowing that it will maybe just show him a little bit more of what you’re facing. “I went to tell Thor and that’s when I overheard them.”

For a moment he’s speechless. When he speaks again, his voice is heightened.

“Congratulations! I-I knew it would happen eventually. The timing is a little-”

“I haven’t told him yet, clearly.”

Silence again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I was so happy when I went to tell him and then I heard their conversation and I-I just can’t find the strength to do it right now. Not until I know whether he wants the annulment.”

David breathes in deeply and then exhales slowly into the phone. His breath is light and soft.

“You’re afraid that he will only stay with you because of the child,” a statement.

David knows you better than anyone else in your life. It’s not surprising that he’d make the leap so quickly.

“He’s willing to leave me and marry Jane because of her baby. It’s possible that he’ll stay by my side only because of our baby and I’d rather he do what’s best for our people than to stay with me because of a sense of obligation.”

“It could be that Jane will not want him. She might keep her child away from the Asgardian royal court. Didn’t she refuse to marry him because she didn’t want to be Queen?” David’s voice is pensive. “This might all feel much larger than it is. I suggest you take some time to really think through your actions before making any decisions.”

“I’m not going to never tell him, David. He’s the father of my child. He has to know that he has two and not just the one. I don’t think I could do that to him. I could never keep him from his children.

“Either of them.”

“You are magnanimous, Y/N. More than even I thought you were capable of.”

“Bullshit. I ran away and am refusing to see him until I get my week of space,” you nod firmly. “But David-?”

“Tell me,” he urges you, recognizing your tone of anguish.

“I-I know that I accepted this marriage hesitantly. It wasn’t like I asked for it and you know how I felt before Thor asked me to marry him. You know how s-scared I was about marrying someone who was in love with someone else, and now...now he’s-”

“He’s married to you, Y/N. Not Ms. Foster. And from what I have been able to see, he does love you. Not Jane. This is a temporary setback. If you’re angry at him, be angry at him. Don’t pretend you aren’t. If you’re hurt, show it. Wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Loving someone is one of life’s greatest blessings. Sometimes that love doesn’t last, sometimes it takes a beating. But you must choose whether your love is worth fighting for.

“You’ve also got obligations that you cannot escape from. Duties to your people as their Queen.”

“Assuming Thor doesn’t leave me and take my crown,” you scoff.

“I’m with your brother-in-law. I don’t think it will come to that. I think Thor was a little shocked and thrown by Ms. Foster’s news. Now that he has had some time to think, I believe he’ll do right by you and when you tell him, your child.”

“I won’t tell him until he makes up his mind,” you insist.

“That is your prerogative. Do what you need to. What can I do to help? What do you need from me?”

“Just be prepared for any eventuality. I’m not sure what’s going to happen at the end of this week. Oh, and if Thor calls you--just make something up and tell me what you say. He thinks you drove me from the airport and have been staying with me.”

“Using me as your alibi so that your husband won’t come looking for you,” David clicks his tongue. “How much detail shall I give him?”

“You’ve got a job too, just tell him you’re coming and going. Tony had his staff install some security on the house after the honeymoon. I’m safe here. He’ll believe that I’m safe if that’s all you say.

“Anyway, I need to go. I have two more calls to make before I can relax and enjoy my break from the throne.”

“If you need anything, you know how to reach me. Anything, Y/N. I mean it.”

“Thanks, David. I can always count on you,” you smile.

Just a tiny one. A very subtle curve at the corners of your lips.

“Well, you do pay me,” he jokes, which actually pulls a small laugh from you.

“Right. Bye, David.”

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

You take only a minute to think about your conversation with David before you make the most important calls of your week in solitude.

The first one is simple. Just a reminder of doctor-patient confidentiality. He understands what you’re saying even if he doesn’t practice by that mentality.

Dr. Wilson’s phone call is more difficult. She wants an explanation. She wants to know why she’s not allowed to tell your husband, the King of New Asgard, that he’s finally got what you and he have been wanting.

An heir!

It’s painful to talk about but you tell her what’s happened. You tell her that Thor doesn’t know that you know about Jane’s baby.

She’s very quiet as you talk. She assumes things and you can hear her anger when she starts to ask for what she can tell Thor.

“He didn’t cheat on me, Dr. Wilson,” you explain, hoping that this will ease her anger.

You’re angry at Thor because of the annulment, not because he and Jane have created a life from their love. You’re hurt because he’s willing or was willing--you’re not sure yet--to leave you to be with Jane, even if not for love but for the baby growing within her.

You’re hurt because the man you love was choosing his duty over his feelings for you.

Even though you know that he’s right to do it. Even though you know that you should understand because he’s King and you also took an oath to put the people of New Asgard first.

It’s your duty to put their well-being before your own. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

In Thor’s mind, his only duty is to his child. Jane’s child. He doesn’t know you’re carrying one of your own yet. Even though that would probably make sure that he stays with you because of the baby, you don’t want that to be the reason he stays.

Proud fool.

“Thor slept with Jane the same night he proposed to me. This was before we loved each other, when leaving Jane was the hardest thing he’d had to do. I don’t hold that against him.”

You don’t tell her about the annulment. She doesn’t need to know how messy this all is.

“He’ll probably call for you and Dr. Alric soon. Loki suggested they get Jane checked so act surprised? But please don’t tell him I’m pregnant. Not yet. He’s coming to see me at the end of the week and I’ll tell him myself then. Please?” And it really is a genuine plea.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Your Majesty. I would like to come and check on you. You don’t sound well.”

She’s very sweet and her concern is touching.

“Thor will probably send you to me eventually. He’s worried but he’s clearly got other things on his mind.”

“I’ll make arrangements to head over there tomorrow. Oh, can you hold for one minute Your Majesty? I’m so sorry.”

“Of course.”

There’s silence on the phone for a few minutes before she comes back.

“It was His Majesty. He’s told me about Jane but she’s not available for an examination until later in the week. So, he’s asked me to come to you first. I’ll be there tonight.”

For some reason, the idea of having her with you eases some of the stress you’ve been carrying with you since yesterday.

“I’ll call and have a car sent for you.”

“Actually, His Majesty has promised to bring me straight to you via bifrost.”

“Wait, what?” You sit up in bed, clutching your blanket to your chest as your nerves suddenly fray and panic begins to build up within you.

“Should I come by plane?” She asks, worried by the sound of your voice.

You can’t see Thor. No. You can’t.

“No. I’ll just be going out later tonight to pick up a few things that I need here at the house. Toilet paper, napkins, laundry soap. I just didn’t want you to get here when I was out, but I’ll text you the passcode to get in.”

You’ll just have to make sure that you’re not at home when they come. That’s what you’ll do. This is a perfect excuse to be out since you need to get the stuff you listed anyway.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t just like me to come by plane?”

“No, really. The sooner you get here, the better. The car ride is so long from the airport. I’ll see you tonight, Dr. Wilson.”

“Bye, Your Majesty.”

Even though you know that you have hours upon hours until Thor brings Dr. Wilson here, you force yourself out of bed and abandon your plans to wallow in your feelings so that you can shower, get dressed, and leave the house.

If Thor’s coming, you’re going to be as far away from your house as you can be. You’re not ready to see him again just yet. You only have small errands to run but you’re gonna stay out all damn day if it’s the last thing you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

Thor is at a loss. Completely and utterly lost without you.

If he was ever in doubt as to how he really felt about you--which he never has been because he knows himself well enough to know better--he knows now that you are the light of his new life here on Earth.

His reign would mean significantly less without you at his side.

Even though the time you’ve spent together has been a short few months, they have been the best months of his life.

If he’d had one of those other women he’d interviewed become his Queen, this life he’s chosen to lead would have felt empty and tedious. Instead of watching his Queen spend her time with his people leading the way in progress.

You’re so eager to be part of the Asgardian populace. They’ve embraced you so fully.

With a sigh, Thor leans forward and buries his face into his hands as he mentally trashes himself for the absolute fool that he’s been about this entire situation.

The fact that he’d even entertained the thought of leaving you.

He wants to cry and tear his hair out in frustration.

Should he tell you that the thought was weighed along with many others at Jane’s news?

And Jane.

Thor groans.

She’s been avoiding him since she told him. He can’t exactly blame her for it. He hadn’t exactly taken the news well.

He had no reason to expect her to be receptive to him after he’d basically accused her of being confused about it. She knew her own body. If she said she was pregnant, what reason would he have to doubt her?

He’s messed everything up so much and he’s terrified to tell you about Jane.

What if you have the same idea he did? What if you decide to leave him in some foolish attempt to have him marry her and legitimize his future child?

It’s something you would do. Sacrifice yourself so that he could do the right thing.

The thought of living this life of rule without you at his side is unbearable.

With another frustrated groan, he gets up and moves to pace the length of the room, ignoring the large pile of paperwork on his desk as his mind moves in circles.

It always comes back to you.

And then you’d been out when he’d gone to drop off Dr. Wilson. He hadn’t expected you to be gone. He’d wanted to see you. To hold you. Touch you. Hear your voice after so much turmoil.

You are his only solace.

Going so close to you and not seeing you has left him with a terrible pain in his chest.

His phone rings.

Thor dives for his phone and fumbles with it as he grabs it off the bed. He almost loses it over the opposite edge.

He literally throws himself towards it and lands with a grunt onto the bed as he catches it.

He presses the button on the screen without looking to see who it is because he only wants it to be you.

“Cherub?” he gasps, his voice an octave higher than normal with the little bit of exertion he just underwent.

“Oh, no. Sorry, Your Majesty, it’s Dr. Wilson. I was just calling to give you your daily report on Her Majesty’s health.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I just haven’t heard from-” He clears his throat, sits up, and slides to the edge of the bed. “No matter. How is my Queen, doctor?”

“She was asleep. But just woke up. She’s very tired. Her throat is better, but she’s had a fever every morning since Sunday.”

Thor sits up straighter, hand clenched into a fist around the edge of the bed as his heart starts to thrum loudly.

“Is she seriously ill?”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty. But she really does need rest. She has been under severe stress and I’m sorry to say that your constant messages are not letting her rest.”

Thor’s heart drops and buries itself into a hole at the bottom of his stomach. He feels numb suddenly, fearful of what he might be doing to you. The guilt of what he knows he must tell you soon also weighs down on him.

“Are you saying that I should leave her be until she is recovered?” Thor checks, just in case he’s not understanding correctly.

“I’m saying that if you want her to get well quickly, you must give her what she asked you for. She needs rest.”

Thor hates that he can’t be there to check on you. He wants to feel you close. He wants to see you. What if you’re deathly ill and you’re telling Dr. Wilson to lie for you?

You abhor lies and cherish honesty , but he can see you lying in order to spare him pain. Just as he is lying to spare you the worry of all this uncertainty with Jane.

Although he knows that he can never lose you now and even with a child coming with Jane, you are his wife and he can’t leave you. He was stupid to think he could even try. The thought was a sin and he’ll never forgive himself for thinking it.

Loki was so angry with him.

Rightfully so.

The good thing is that you’ll never know how bleak things looked. At least he has found his sanity again.

“Will you keep me informed? I’ll stop contacting her if you will promise to tell me how she fares. If she gets worse, I want to know.” Thor insists, his voice passionate and begging.

“You have my word, Your Majesty. Have you heard anything from Ms. Foster? Do we know exactly when we’ll be running her tests?”

“She’s very busy. As of now, it’s looking more and more likely that we won’t be able to find the time until the week’s end. After we confirm her pregnancy, I’ll tell Y/N. I’m sorry that I’ve asked you to collude in this business.”

There’s a long pause and for a moment Thor thinks that maybe the phone has disconnected but then Dr. Wilson sighs, “I cannot wait for this week to be over. Will you come back for me then? When she’s ready?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up in the same spot that I left you. My wife wasn’t too upset about her lawn, was she? Only, Stark seems to get irritated with me every time I land on his.”

“No,” Dr. Wilson chuckles once. “She was not upset. Again, there’s little more than her throat, head, and fever on her mind. I’ve gotta go. She’s gone out into the garden for some fresh air but I need to get her back into bed.”

“Please take good care of her, doctor. She’s...well, she’s my wife,” Thor finishes heavily.

The phone goes dead and Thor sits there staring at his phone until he can find the strength to get to his feet and go off in search of Jane. They really need to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday

Thor is upset.

He’s beyond frustrated by now.

He’s irritated.

It’s a week tomorrow since he’s seen you and he can’t stand the distance anymore.

Dr. Wilson snuck him a photo but you’d been sitting on your sofa, looking weak and withdrawn.

He’s not sure what exactly is making you sick, but he knows that he can’t go another day without seeing you.

He needs to get Dr. Wilson back here and he needs to get confirmation so that he can have something to tell you once he sees you.

He won’t lose you over this.

It was one last time. One final goodbye with Jane and he’d thought she was on her birth control but apparently she hadn’t been so he hadn’t bothered to protect himself from the possibility of getting her pregnant.

Why hadn’t she said anything?! Why hadn’t she told him that she wasn’t on her pill?

He knows it’s wrong to blame her. It took both of them to make this baby, but being away from you for so long is wearing thin and he’s losing all semblance of patience.

It takes some very careful maneuvering. Heimdall is sent first, then Hilde, then Loki.

None of them know why they’re going in to corner Jane in the tower except for Loki. Well, Heimdall knows, but there’s no hiding much from Heimdall. He pretends not to know and that’s good enough for Thor.

Loki is just stepping out of the tower when he turns to look at Thor with a grave almost exhausted expression.

“She’s up there,” he assures Thor, frowning as he shuts the heavy door. “When will this end, Thor? Are you going to keep the Queen away forever?”

Thor says nothing, he’s too upset to speak. He pulls the door open roughly and stomps his way up the steps taking them two at a time until he’s standing on the top floor landing.

He can see Jane biting her lip, pacing the length of the room until she turns and finally sees him.

“Thor…” she gasps, not expecting to see him.

“We have to talk, Jane.”

She looks away, turning her back on him then moves towards her laptop which she carefully closes. She puts her hand up to her throat and turns to face him.

“I will have Dr. Wilson brought in and Dr. Alric to give you the same tests they have been giving Y/N. They will be confirming your pregnancy and once we have that, then we can all sit down and figure out-”

“I’m not pregnant,” Jane gasps, her voice filling the room despite the quiet breath that escapes her pink lips.

Thor’s stomach twists. It’s agony.

On the one hand, the words she’s just spoken are...they’re a celebration. They’re simplicity. They’re peace and a return back to normal where in his life there is only you.

On the other hand, he’s just lost a baby he never had. An heir that he’d been expecting and now can never get back.

He’d made plans for this child. He’s pictured his life with them, the happiness and joy that their birth would bring to the people of New Asgard. The assurance that they would always belong to Earth.

He’d picked names for boys and girls. He’d begun to make a list of nursery items they would need even as he lamented that the baby was not yours but Jane’s.

This baby would have, and had already begun to change his life.

And now this?!

“What?” he very nearly spits.

Jane is so flustered she’s wringing her hands hard, welting them red.

“I’m...I didn’t expect to come here and see you with her and see how fast you just-” she waves her hand as if shooing away some animal. “-moved on. It’s like you were never with me.

“You were both so happy and talking about the future and I just lost it for a little bit,” she shrugs. “I have no excuses, Thor. I’m sorry if what I said hurt you. It was selfish of me and I just loved you for so long. You were mine, you know? And now you’re married, planning to have kids, and your wife is so nice and considerate and even though she has every reason to hate me, she was polite and so damn perfect…

“I’m not afraid to say that it made me hate her. I’m ashamed of it, but not enough to take it back.”

The silence is thick. The air suddenly grows charged and Thor’s eyes shine a bright sparkling blue.

His hands crackle and his eye spits as if full of blue fire.

The sky overhead thunders and the world shakes with the boom. The lightning strikes sharp and fast, shaking the tower so that for a moment, Thor can see how Jane thinks it might topple.

His anger gives way to betrayal and his lightning fizzles out as he takes a step towards her, his brow furrowed, eye full of pain as he stares at her, searching for the joke that this must be.

There is no way that this is really happening.

“You lied to me?” Thor accuses.

Jane blanches, her lips going pale as she takes a step towards him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, I just-I didn’t want to see you with her anymore and I wasn’t thinking straight so I just said it before I could stop myself. I know that it was wrong and I didn’t think it would go on for so long. I wanted to tell you almost as soon as I said it that it wasn’t true, but then you just took off and then the Queen left and I wasn’t sure if you told her and maybe that’s why she wasn’t here.”

Thor shakes his head, turning away from her as he paces towards the stairs but then turns back, his anger returning but full of pain now.

“I defended you. When Loki insisted I have you tested I asked him if he doubted you and I assured him that you would not lie about something this important. What reason would you have to lie?” he demands, almost of himself instead of Jane.

“Thor,” Jane begins.

“How long were you going to let me think you were carrying my child? How long were you planning to con me?” he accuses and his words seem to hurt Jane.

Thor can’t find it in him to care too much.

“I wasn’t-that’s not what I meant to do, Thor. Please, you have to believe me. I just didn’t know how much seeing you with her would-”

“You have no right to be upset!” he booms, his voice loud and it startles Jane quiet.

She’s never heard him angry like this. She’s never heard his voice raised.

“I gave you every opportunity to be with me, to marry me, to build a life here with me and be my Queen. You didn’t want it! You flat-out refused to be tied down by me and this Kingdom but now that you see me and my wife happy, you change your mind?

“You have the audacity to raise obstacles between us because you have regrets?”

“Thor,” she tries again, but Thor won’t let her speak.

“Get out,” he says sternly, turning to move towards the stairs.

“What?!”

“I said, get out. You are no longer welcome in my home. Pray no one ever finds out of your treachery. And should you have the urge to return for any reason, don’t.”

Thor storms down the steps, so angry that each step shakes the tower.

He’s breathing heavily as he slams the door shut behind him.

The storm air helps to calm him a bit. It clears his mind at least and the past week zooms by him like an unpleasant movie.

All of that worry and the plotting and planning. The agony that he felt wondering if you’d leave him when you found out about his child with Jane was the most unbearable.

Your face flashes before his eyes and he knows that there’s only one place he can be right now.

He throws his hand out and a metallic whistling rushes closer before his fist closes around his hammer.

He swings it firmly and throws it up into the air as he makes for your home.

Now that he has nothing to keep him here, he’s eager to get back to you. He’ll tell you everything and hope that you can forgive him for lying to you about Jane.

Even though it was a lie by omission, it was still a lie.

“I’m coming, my cherub,” he whispers, so eager to have you in his arms again.

Nothing will ever tear him from you again. He is certain. Nothing. Not a false heir, or a former love, no doubts exist within him anymore. You are the one.

The only one.