Thank you cass, your series has really created such a happy little fandom that I find is not my safe space. You have inspired thousands of artists and if it weren’t for you. A lot of people wouldn’t be where they are now. I’m excited to see what else you make, rise or not. You’re an incredible person and I’m glad I was able to follow along this comic. It truly gave me something to look forward to.

Thank you, cass

‘I’ll be grinding a conclusion animatic…

ML Fic Recs - Ladynoir

I think most readers can appreciate a good rec list, but it’s often the same fics that I see recced again and again. I get why they’re recced - they’re amazing! But I want help finding fic I haven’t already read. So I decided to be the change I want to see in the world. The rule: the fic must have less than a thousand kudos on AO3 (but I’m trying to limit to fics that have less than 500.) Obviously this means a lot of my favourites are not included here, but you’ve probably read all of those already anyway. 

If you enjoy these, please reblog so more readers can find these awesome fics!

To get things started and in honour of the quality ladynoir content we just got (which I’m hoping will inspire even more quality fan content!), let’s have some ladynoir recs. Fics are in no particular order.

Amnesiac? More like Amnesi-Chat by therealjanebingley

Oblivio's back, and this time only Chat Noir gets hit. Based on his limited knowledge and the way Ladybug acts towards him, he makes some assumptions.

One-shot. This is hilarious. From Chat’s genuine glee about his superheroes to Ladybug’s affectionate indulgence to having Chat provide an “outside perspective” on Ladybug’s non-platonic behaviour towards him to the teasing... I could see this actually happening in an Oblivio 2.0 episode.

Experimental Kisses by @komorebirei

Ladybug watched him. Maybe it was guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe a streak of playfulness. Maybe the traumatic akuma experience had softened her up. Whatever the reason, a thought wafted lazily through her mind and out of her mouth. “You know… you’re right. It isn’t fair, is it?”

Chat Noir looked up.

“I remember my first kiss, but you don’t.” She hummed and tapped her chin, making a show of remembering. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, but we were in the middle of fighting an akuma, so I didn’t get to enjoy it much, either.”

Oops—that came out sounding a little, no, a lot more flirty than she had intended. Anyway, if she was going to commit to this idea, she may as well go all in.

One-shot. Ladybug offers to kiss Chat since he doesn’t remember their kiss and the way she reacts to the kiss...it lives in my mind rent-free. I have fallen asleep many a night fantasizing about what the repercussions of the kiss might look like. 

What's your favourite colour? by @hermionemonica

Ladybug and Chat Noir sit on a rooftop, watching the sunset.

One-shot. This fic is short and sweet and absolutely lovely. It’s set post-reveal and despite only being 566 words it’s full of sweetness and feeling.

Margins of Error by orphan_account

“Do you…” Ladybug's voice is at an almost-whisper. He can feel her breath fire-hot against his face. “Do you want me to show you how I think they should write our kiss?”

Adrien isn’t here anymore, leave a message after the tone.

--

Adrien was raised on order. His life is meticulously planned, each day as reliable as the equations he studies in physics and calculus. But Ladybug- Ladybug always has him at a loss.

One-shot. Okay, so I know the author of this one since I download all my favourite fics, but since they’ve orphaned it I’m going to respect that. However, since the author was kind enough to leave the work up so people can continue to enjoy it, I’m going to suggest that people do so! Ladynoir kisses featuring my absolute favourite dynamic: sexually assertive Ladybug and receptive Chat Noir. (Don’t take this to mean the fic has sexual content - it’s just kissing.) AMAZING.

Liquid Luck by @somethingvaguetodo

Ladybug enlists Chat Noir's help in decoding the remaining ingredients for the power-up transformation potions. Together, they work on creating them, and possibly destroying the barriers between them.

Multi-chapter. The riddles of the secret potion ingredients are fun to think about, Ladybug and Chat Noir both get to show off their smarts, and the trust and support between the two of them is showcased. Perfect ladynoir.

when you weren't mine to lose by @bugsandchatons

Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It's been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they'll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she'll cross to save him.

Multi-chapter. This is what happens when Ladybug loses Chat Noir. It hurts in all the best ways and the writing is absolutely gorgeous and somehow we still get a happy ending!

well if i'm beautiful and you're beautiful then who's saving paris? by celebreultimaverba

Chat flirts. Surprisingly, it works.

And then it backfires.

One-shot. This one is so cute and sweet! It’s a quick read but you’ll be smiling by the end of it.

sometimes the dreamers finally wake up by magesamell

"Four days ago a mermaid flooded Paris and an ancient guardian introduced himself to his father as a substitute Chinese tutor. He had thought that would be the end of it."

Ladybug tells Chat Noir all of her secrets.

One-shot. Post-Syren. The fic we all desperately need about Ladybug actively working to restore the balance of her and Chat’s relationship after Fu messes with that. It’s not overly romantic, but it’s absolutely perfect.

i fall in love just a little, oh, just a little by @mlady-noir

If she was asked, Ladybug wouldn't be able to give a specific date when her heart decided to fall for her pun loving partner, but she could point out the night she realized it.

One-shot. Sofffffttttttt. This is just a beautiful narrative of Ladybug’s fall for Chat with a sweet, sweet ending.

Someone I Can’t Fall In Love With by @yslen54

Ladybug agreed with Chat Noir when he suggested that they should finally share their identities with each other, but she’s been dreading it ever since.

One-shot. This is short and sweet. An identity reveal that explores Ladybug’s feelings for Chat Noir and then plays with the divided heart trope.

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

You can’t stay away from me by plikki

When Adrien sides with his father, he expects to protect Ladybug and buy some time. He doesn't expect that his emotional state will make it so much harder to resist the girl that he loves, until he just gives in.

Multi-chapter. Rated M. Not-quite an enemies AU, but with all the beautiful angst and tension of one. There’s a fair amount of sex, so be warned but it’s SO SO GOOD. And all of the pain and angst is followed by a sweet happy ending.

baby, we don't have time to be coy by Molebear

"What are we doing?" Chat breathes, the words sending a tendril of lucidity back into Ladybug's hormone-addled brain.

It's a fair question.

The origins of this tryst are a little hazy in her mind at this point. Something about a lovesick akuma, maybe? Ladybug vaguely remembers Chat Noir getting struck by something, only seconds before it hit her too. There was a fight, or... there was something she and Chat Noir had been in the middle of doing - something important, like.... save-the-world important - before she'd dragged him underground with the sole intention of climbing him like a tree.

A scorned lover gets akumatized and gains the power to cast Lust. When it comes to distracting Paris' beloved superhero team, this power turns out to be... rather effective.

One-shot. Rated M. The UST of this one damn near killed me. It’s hot AF and I would commit homicide to read the conversation these two have after that lmaoooo

Charmed, I'm Sure by @chatonne-rousse

Friends with benefits. It's right there in the name, and it's what they are - friends. Best friends. This is just a way for two consenting adults to relieve stress after akuma fights, with the only person they'd trust with this level of intimacy. Really, what could go wrong? (The real question is, what could go right?)

Multi-chapter. Rated E. The sex is really, really hot. It’s in character and full of emotion. And there’s an amazing identity reveal followed by “I’m so happy it’s you!” sex. 

A Little Too Far by imploder

Ladybug gets handsy, and Chat Noir lacks self-control. Alternitavely: "Plagg's Worst Nightmare".

One-shot. Rated E. This one is hot and in character and just absolutely amazing steamy ladynoir content. Features my favourite: sexually assertive Ladybug. Because who doesn’t love playing with gender role stereotypes?

aw wolf! you warmed my heart. i'm gonna rant in your inbox all the time if it makes you happy :)

i just saw that you're posting chapter 6 next week and i'm over the moon!!! i can't wait to see what you've cooked up for us and how the dynamic changes between all the characters. i'm guessing after the argument between lucifer and chloe, the chapter will focus more on past!chloe investigating the case and past!lucifer spending some time with future!chloe? i wonder if they're gonna talk about lucifer fighting with past!chloe and what future!chloe will have to say about that. there's a snippet you posted where future!chloe looks a bit uncertain about cuddling up to lucifer and i can't stop thinking about it! it also looks like future!lucifer might make an appearance soon — which by the way, i can't wait to see how he too will complicate things for past!chloe and past!lucifer. because like lmao, future!chloe and future!lucifer are both obviously coming from a good place, but the four of them are all just a bunch of idiots (respectfully). so of course they're gonna make a mess before they can figure their shit out.

but anyways, whatever direction you decided to take, i know you're gonna blow my mind and that i'll be re-reading the chapter a dozen times in a row! (it doesn't help that season 6 drops three days after you post the chapter. god, it's gonna be a very long weekend!)

about that one shot about future!chloe and past!lucifer's morning after — listen, i'd read 10k words about them just lying in bed asleep if you wrote them! no but i've been wondering about their morning after ever since you posted chapter 4. like, even before reading chapter 5, that was the thing i thought about the most. it's just so interesting and fascinating to me because you have these two characters who are at completely different points in their lives and somehow they end up meeting in the middle. like just, imagine season 3 lucifer waking up to chloe decker — the love of his life, chloe jane decker. a version of chloe who knows him and loves him and supports him — like he probably didn't even sleep that night? and chloe has been there before, has already had a first morning after with lucifer, so waking up to past!lucifer shouldn't be much of a novelty but it also feels entirely different than anything she's ever experienced? and god, there are so many different scenarios to explore. like, chloe wanting to make them some breakfast but lucifer not letting her leave the bed because he wants to hold her a little while longer. or chloe studying past!lucifer and noticing all the differences between him and her lucifer. or them making french toast together and lucifer not being able to stop touching chloe. and i don't know, just a whole lot of domesticity and lucifer's heart exploding because? this is all he's ever wanted? and now he knows there's at least one universe in which he gets it? help i can't stop thinking about it! so [inconspicuously slides you a five pound chocolate bar across the table] (and also, if you ever need to bounce ideas off of someone, you know where to find me! i clearly have so many of them, and it'd be an honour!)

okay. this is another very long message lmao. i hope you're doing well and i can't wait to read the new chapter and also your thoughts about season 6 when we get it. have a great week! 💙

It always makes me happy :D

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! You guessed correctly, definitely focusing on S3!Chloe and wrapping the case up so I never have to watch AoSB episode EVER AGAIN.

As for Future!Lucifer making an appearance soon....perhaps ;)

I won't be able to watch s6 when it drops so I will be AWOL for a bit, so I wanted to get the chapter out ahead of time.

Hahah seems like you've practically written it yourself! I love those ideas. There might be a few outtake scenes, but I'm not sure yet. One scene I THOUGHT was going to be "off screen" so to speak has now found it's way into my outline, so who knows?

I'm doing well over all! Allergies are kicking my ass right now, but it could be worse. [munches on massive chocolate bar] You have a lovely day too!

aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me. 

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)  

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while. 

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.  

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

Slipping Through My Fingers - Three

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings: none 

an: let the games begin bitches 

Lorcan was desperate. 

The five-year old sitting on the floor of his room refused to get dressed and Lorcan’s nerves were getting frayed. He looked more like Lorcan than his mother, but his features softer than his father’s, his eyes brighter - a pale doe-brown. The freckles over his button nose were Essar’s, no doubt about it.  

“No, Dad.” Despite his words and negation, Lorcan was forever grateful that they spoke his mother tongue at home, as well as Essar’s. That their son was able to speak their languages, for their cultures and people to be kept alive for one more generation. They tended to mix and match with the two tongues, one from the northernmost part of Doranelle, and the other from deep within the Bogdano jungle. 

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes before he too sat on the floor. “Prince, please. Please just put on your pants.” 

“No, Dad. Don’t wanna go to school,” Kohana* said, his arms crossed tightly, glowering menacingly. He was already wearing his long-sleeved t-shirt, sweater and puffy jacket. The child insisted on wearing all his layers, even though it was hardly fall and he would definitely become way to warm by the end of the day.

“I know, kiddo,” Lorcan said, wishing that Essar was here to convince him. She’d always managed to soothe their son and sometimes - most of the time if he were honest - Lorcan felt like a failure. He’d asked every god, multiple times, why him. “I know you don’t.” 

His tone was defeated and Kohana looked up at him, his brows lowered. “If you know, why telling me to go?” 

That was a very good point. An excellent one. Lorcan resorted to his last point: bribery. “Alright, if you go to school, tonight when we get home, we’ll get ice cream and watch your favourite movie. Deal?” 

His son looked between the pants and him, narrowing his chestnut eyes, just like his mom. Finally, Kohana nodded. “Ok, Dad.” 

Ten minutes later, Kohana was concentrating on his laces, his tongue sticking out as he tied his shoes up. He was successful and clapped his little hands, “Look! Tied my shoes!” 

Lorcan smiled, his heart cracking just a bit, “Good job, baby.” Kohana stood up on the front hall bench and lifted his arms. Lorcan scooped him up and tossed him up, catching him before setting the little one down on his feet, smiling at his son’s pealing laughter. “We ready?” 

Kohana grabbed Lorcan’s pinky and ring finger after Lorcan helped him put on his mini rainbow Kanken backpack. “Yep! Go time!” 

As Lorcan opened the door, Kohana froze, “Oh no! I forgot to say bye bye to Tigger!” He raced back into their house, seeking out Essar’s old ragdoll cat. Lorcan had a love-hate relationship with Tigger, but even he smiled when he heard the kid’s little voice saying good-bye. He looked in the mirror beside Essar’s picture, noting the length of his hair had just finally begun to brush against his shoulders after he had cut it, out of respect and honour for the passing of his wife. 

It made his throat close up, this feeling that he was moving on and forgetting her - when he’d once promised to never forget her. Lorcan had meant it that dark day in that sterile hospital room and he meant it now. His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the pattering feet of their son as he came racing back and crashed into Lorcan’s legs. “Ready to go.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Kohana chattered the entire way to his school, looking out the window as he kicked his feet, sitting on his booster seat. Lorcan grinned and conversed with him, only slightly worried about the amount that he talked. 

Kohana was a fairly quiet child, reserved and freakily observant like his dad, and preferred to silently ride in the truck wherever they went. Soon enough, they pulled up in front of the school and Kohana fell silent, nervously glancing out at the other kids and parents. 

“You need a minute, Ko?” 

Kohana slowly shook his head, “No, I ready. Go time, Dad.” 

Lorcan stifled his chuckle and unbuckled his seatbelt, turning off the engine and making his way to Kohana’s door. He opened it and Kohana unclipped his seat belt and stood on his booster seat, waiting for Lorcan to pick him up. Lorcan did, propping him on his hip as he got his backpack and shut the door, clicking his keys to lock the truck as he strode through the parking lot, unaware of the stares and attention he drew to himself as he walked to the school. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide checked the time again, reassuring herself that nobody was late, considering the bell didn’t ring for another fifteen minutes. She breathed out slowly, checking over her class list and making sure that each little desk (who knew kindergarten desks could be so cute) had a velcroed name label on it. She figured she would let the kids choose their seats and go from there once she knew the different dynamics. 

She checked over the reading area, making sure the toadstool-patterned pouffes were placed correctly and relative to the bookshelves and toy area. What she had wanted was a whimsical, faerie-woods like reading area and Elide was happy with what she had done. She'd even managed to find a tree-throne inspired wooden chair made by a local artist. 

The art corner was all ready, it had been the first area she set up, and Elide walked into the cubby area, which was separate from the rest of the classroom. 

Unlike the desks, the cubbies were designated to each student and she made sure that the velcroed labels stuck on well. Elide did not need wild little ones pulling things off at random. She popped into the little bathroom they had, thanking her gods and goddesses for being one of the few kindergarten classes with their own toilet. There was a sign with diagrams on correct hand washing and a step stool up to the sink, soap and paper towels in easy access. 

She looked at herself in the mirror, running an eye over her outfit: a pair of raw-edge, blue mom jeans and a slouchy lavender sweater, paired with a pair of delicate silver hoops, her hair twisted into a low-bun and held together with a silver hairpin, a gift from her ex-girlfriend. She wore her everyday, white sneakers, her makeup simple with just mascara and a light dusting of blush. 

Perfect for meeting parents and kiddos. Comfortable and still somewhat professional for the first day of school. Aelin had asked her to model some things for her newest collection and had dumped a bunch of custom made pieces into her arms. A congrats-on-your-new-job present, she’d said, so needless to say, Elide was well-equipped and excited for her new outfits. 

Someone knocked on the door and called out, “Hello?” 

Elide squeaked and hurried into her class, “Hey, I’m— Lorcan?” Oh gods, what was he doing here? Elide subtly checked the available exits, in case something went sideways. “What are you doing here?” 

Just then, she noticed how shocked he looked and the children’s backpack that dangled from his hand, not to mention the nearly identical child who held onto his other hand in a death grip. “Um, I- kid- school-” he stuttered out, his jaw still dropped as the child tugged on his hand.

“Dad?” The dark-haired child looked up at Lorcan in confusion, his brow wrinkling. Elide genuinely thought that every kid was cute, but by the gods, this one took the cake. She had the sudden urge to kiss his round cheek and clamped down on the desire. 

He was a father. And she was his kid’s teacher. And she should not be thinking about how he held her up and fucked her against a wall three nights ago or how the way his lips parted as she got on her knees for— 

“Oh my gods, sorry,” Elide said, snapping out of her shock. “Hi!” The kid looked nervous and hugged Lorcan’s legs, hiding his face in his father’s navy painter pants. 

“Ko,” Lorcan said, crouching down in front of his son. Elide scanned the class roster, landing on the name Kohana **Tangaroa-Salvaterre. Lorcan began to speak in a language she discerned as ***Ozuye from hearing it during her gap year, but she didn’t comprehend a word, her mind reeling. 

Even if this wasn’t the situation, she still wouldn’t have been able to understand a word on account of not speaking a language other than the common tongue and Blackbeak. 

“Ok, Dad,” Kohana whispered. He walked over to her, his light eyes wide as he clasped his hands together in front of him, “Hello. My name is Kohana. I am five.” 

Elide huffed a laugh and crouched down in front of him, “Hi, Kohana. My name’s supposed to be Miss Lochan, but you can call me Elide.” He smiled and nodded, running back to Lorcan to grab his backpack and grab a quick hug before saying bye with a tight hug and an accepted top-of-the-head kiss. He quickly ran back to Elide’s side. 

Lorcan laughed quietly and nodded an only semi-awkward goodbye before ducking out of the classroom. “Alright, Kohana, why don’t we see your cubby?” 

“Ok,” he said, following her closely as she led the way to the coat room. 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Hellas save him, this was a mess. How had he managed to sleep with the one person that would be his son’s teacher for ten whole months? 

Lorcan stopped at a red light and hit his head against the steering wheel, swearing low. If Essar could see him now, she’d be crying in laughter. That got him to smile, even if it was forced and unnatural. 

He drove in utter silence to the mechanic shop he worked at, alongside Fenrys and Malakai, trying to think about anything other than the sounds she had made when he was inside her. He was not successful in the slightest. 

It had him in a foul mood when he parked and got out of his truck, stalking into the back room. Fenrys was sitting at the table and drinking a cup of coffee when he walked in. “Woah, who pissed in your coffee this morning?” 

Lorcan sighed and braced his hands against his locker, hanging his head. “I fucked Ko’s teacher.” 

“Wait, just now?” 

He snarled and spun to glare at Fenrys, “Yeah, in the five-minute period I was dropping my kindergartener off at school, I took her in the cubby and fucked her real good.” He walked over to the blonde and slapped him upside the head, “Fuck is wrong with you? She’s the girl from the bar.” 

“Well. You two are fucked.” 

That was exactly the problem.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

*Kohana is a Lakota name that means swift 

**Tangaroa is the Māori god of the sea! In this story (and all things i write) both Essar and Lorcan are indigenous - Essar is Māori and Lorcan is Lakota because you can never have too much colour 😌✨

***Ozuye is the fictional tribe of my own invention, it’s very largely based off the Lakota nation

@mythicaitt​​​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​​ @schmlip-scribble​​ @the-regal-warrior​​ @westofmoon​​ @empire-of-wildfire​​ @rhysands-highlady​​ @city-of-fae​​ @shyvioletcat​​ @alifletcher2012​​ @tangledraysofsunshine​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @tswaney17​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​ @flora-and-fae​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @queenofxhearts​​ @maastrash​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​ @cursebreaker29​​​ @superspiritfestival​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​ @queen-of-glass​​ @sleeping-and-books​​ @beccasophia95​​ @exersize-me-i-dare-u​​ @thewayshedreamed​​ @hizqueen4life​ @ifinallygavein​ @bat-wing-rhys​ @awkward-avocado-s​

HOSTIS, Chapter XVII.5: Inevitabilis, Inevitable

HOSTIS PLAYLIST: WONHO - LOSING YOU

Previous Chapter (XVII: Et Universum Parallel)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) 

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

Dana’s A/N: this is a special piece written by @vxstarlightxv​ who has been feeding me ideas to fuel this story. i did not write this chapter, i only merely proof-read it/gave her tips etc, but otherwise the beauty of this chapter will never be able to be my own original work.

P.S: if you’re emotional, please keep a box of tissues with you 

“there is no escape from you, not now, not ever. you are inevitable.”

The day the kids at school start calling you Ares is the day Hyunjae loses faith in humanity. You are a spineless, low-life coward, who hardly deserves to be bestowed with the same title as himself. Yet here you are, acting as though you were worth being on the same plane as him.

He hates you. Oh god, he truly does.

He remembers the way you fucked him over so well and thoroughly, and in front of the whole school that too. Granted, he may have screwed with your equipment, but maybe if you didn’t suck so bad you wouldn’t have failed.

Blaming him for your shortcomings. How typical.

But showing Minhee ​that picture of the accidental kiss (that meant ​nothing​) for the sole purpose of destroying his relationship? That was a bitch move right there. So he has no regrets when he posts a cleverly edited picture of your lab teacher with his girlfriend. None at all. In fact, the sight of your tears when that himbo Younghoon dumps you is something that brings him delight.

His heart definitely did not twist when he saw you cry, because he definitely does not care. You hurt him, and it’s only fair that you’re hurting too.

Nonetheless, he is pleasantly surprised at how fast you bounce back. His breakup with Minhee was a huge watery mess, and he cannot help his grudging admiration for your strength when you power through your own with Younghoon.

It is only admiration, for he definitely still hates you.

When the time comes to choose a medical school, he chooses the one that seems the furthest away from you. But fate hates him, so after 4 years of respite, he is dumped back on your doorstep as your fellow intern in the neurology department.

Of all the fucky coincidences.

~~~

Ares is a brutal god. He is the fire of war, wild and relentless.

Hyunjae is furious when he finds out you’ve stolen his report, but he’s not surprised. Not when he would’ve done the same thing. Then again, he was kind of hoping you would leave him alone. Naturally, you’ve done the opposite. He wonders if his emotional response is a little… disproportionate, given the situation, but he’s not going to let you fuck him over like this and escape unscathed. He isn’t a fucking pussy, your thoughts on the matter be damned.

Silly little kitten. Put your paws in the fire, and watch the heat bubble your skin.

He is simmering as he bangs on your door. He hears you screaming some nonsense about your mother, but he’s too pissed to process anything. You open the door, face falling as you see him. He cannot help but reach out a hand and grab you by your pretty throat.

He shoves you into the house, fuelled by the magnitude of his anger. You’ve hurt his pride, made a fool out of him in front of Dr Kim. He wants to shred you to pieces, get you on your knees and rip the apologies from your mouth.

Tonight you will understand why the other gods fear the wrath of Ares.

 ~~~

Hyunjae replays the encounter in his head as he drives home. He has never once considered you as anything but an enemy. But today, something of seismic proportion has shifted in your dynamic.

The flutter of your lips against his, like butterfly wings on a flower. The warmth of your chest against his in a tight alcove, hiding from Dr Shin. The way you felt when you took him in, the way you cried when he hit every single spot that made your toes curl. The way you purred when he called you kitten and mewled as you fell apart on his cock.

In retrospect, he hopes that he didn’t hurt you. He usually likes to stick around for aftercare, but he didn’t want to ruin your pride even more. You’d already been dealt with a devastating blow, and he didn’t want to make it worse, regardless of how big of a dick you think he is.

(Ring, ring)

The sharp blare of his ringtone shatters the silence of his ride home. He glances at the screen, smiling when he sees the caller id.

“What’s up, Juyeonie? Are you finally back?” Hyunjae is thrilled to hear his best friend’s voice. Juyeon is very busy these days, being a commercial pilot and all, so these rare moments they have with each other are more precious than gold.

“Hey, hyung! Yes I am! On that note, are you free next Friday? Let’s get drinks and catch up!” Juyeon sounds so eager and hopeful that Hyunjae can’t help but say yes, no matter how packed his schedule might be. The rest of the conversation proceeds pleasantly, and he is happy to forget the day’s drama.

It is only when he reaches home that he realises that the thought of you has never quite left his head.

~~~

“So what happened? The last I heard, she left you high and dry in JFK.” 

He watches as feline eyes crinkle with delight at his question. His friend launches into a happy tirade about his mystery girl, going on and on about fate and chance encounters and love lost and found. Hyunjae listens carefully, admiring the way Juyeon has changed. He wonders for a moment if he'll ever experience something as profound as Juyeon has, will ever wake up one day knowing that his heart sits in the palms of another person, and will not fear the idea.

The image of your eyes dancing with wicked laughter arises unbidden, and it punches the breath out of him.

He is jostled out of his thoughts when a hand lands on his thigh. It is so abrupt, so sudden that he all but jumps out of his skin.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Choi Minhee is standing in front of him, batting her mascara-painted eyelashes at him seductively. She is as pretty as ever, with her delicate collarbones and anime-girl eyes.

But she is not you.

The thought is so dreadful and unsettling that he cannot help but flirt with her the whole night in order to get it out of his head.

When have you become anything but an annoyance, anything but a pest that’s been shoved down his throat?

It is pleasant, talking to someone who he hasn’t met in a long time. He remembers her fondly, despite how miserable their parting was. Minhee is soft and kind, a gentle cherry-blossom compared to your ever-burning inferno. She complements him well (not perfectly, because only ​one​person does), and for a second he feels white-hot annoyance at you for fucking him over in this regard. Hyunjae cannot help but wonder if they would have been married by now had you not intervened with that photo. Would they be living the white-picket fence dream? What would their kids have looked like?

All he can see are children with your ash-brown hair and his almond eyes. The image causes his gut to clench so tightly that he wonders if something inside him might have cracked open.

“Have you and Y/N gotten together yet? I figured that after we broke up the two of you would end up going out. You were always kinda obsessed with each other.” The question jolts him out of his reverie. Juyeon, who has been listening politely so far, decides to insert himself into the conversation.

“Yeah, hyung. The two of you have always had something special, right? What was that stupid nickname we gave you? Paris and Helen?”

The irony is not lost to him. Enemies, being compared to the two greatest lovers of all time. A face that launched a thousand ships, a blaze of love that destroyed a nation. Only fools succumb to Aphrodite, the cruelest of the divine hosts.

“Ares and Ares. And for fuck’s sake, I will never be attracted to that hag. You won’t believe what she did at work last week-”

Hyunjae misses the knowing look Minhee and Juyeon exchange. He’s only seeing you.

~~~

If there is one thing that Hyunjae hates, it is surprises. So he really, really hates it when he sees you flirting with the intern as though ​he ​doesn’t exist.

The day had actually started off pretty well. He came into work feeling all pleased with himself. Not only did he break you down, but he also figured out a solid way to keep you in line. You were reacting beautifully to his taunts, and seeing you unable to walk made something vicious inside him preen.

And then, before he can breathe, you are making stupid cow-eyes at the snot-faced little intern as though he created entire galaxies in your honour.

How dare you, honestly? You’re wearing ​his ​hickeys on your neck, limping and ​sore because ​he​ripped you apart last night. How can you even ​think​of flirting with another man? Are you doing this on purpose, to get some semblance of power back?

This is not jealousy. It definitely is NOT jealousy because that would mean he would have to be attracted to your hideous hag face. No, it was an issue of pride. And no, he definitely was not deluding himself right now.

Nonetheless, watching Eric help you into his car after work makes him want to vomit.

~~~

It is the party incident that truly knocks it into his head. He spends the entire night seething over your flirtations with Eric, with even ​Sangyeon. He glares at you, but you pretend to not see, and it shoves him off the edge.

Why won’t you look at him? A room full of people, but you are the only one he sees. So why aren’t you seeing him too?

He reminds you that night, who is the only one who knows how to pick you apart, snap you in half. He reminds you who is the only one who can make your body thrum and vibrate, who is the only one who can coax tears from your eyes and pleasured sobs from your throat. But he is also tender with you after, because under that diamond-hard exterior is a heart wrapped in silks and satin. Hurting you is the last thing he wants to do.

It is only when he wakes up alone in the morning that he realises that maybe, just maybe, he wishes he could see you in his bed again, hair spilled across the sheets as your breathing slowly evens out into slumber. He wants to coo over your keening wails, drink the moans from your mouth.

A thought, fleeting and profound, surfaces.

He wants you to be his.

~~~

He goes to work on Sunday with iron resolve. He has spent the entirety of Saturday thinking hard about you, and the relationship you shared with him. The line between obsession and infatuation is a thin one, one that the two of you have been dancing on for 10 whole years. When did his foot slip? When did the late nights plotting revenge mutate into candied dreams of your lips, of your body, singing for him?

But of course, who else could it be? You have always been, will always be, his forever other half.

Ares and Ares, locked in their death dance. But when did Ares become Aphrodite? War has become Love, and Love has become War.

Somewhere along the way, something has gone wrong. At some point or the other, he has forgotten the hatred that sizzled through him like blazing poison. He has forgotten that you are annoying, that you are competitive, and that you get revenge in the sleaziest ways possible. He has forgotten everything, because all that remains is the way your smile looks like a flashing ray of sunlight, like a tendril of shimmering starlight. All that remains is the sound of your wind chime laughter, the softness of your small hands on his heated skin. All that remains is the memory of how good you are for him, how addictive the juxtaposition between your submissive sweetness in bed and your fiery heat outside of it is.

So he decides that he is going to make you his. Granted, the order of things was completely wrong, but he would fix it. He would cook you dinner, press kisses onto your cherry mouth, and then love you till morning comes. And then he would repeat it every day, till the day the two of you are cradled in the eternal embrace of death.

Surely, surely you reciprocate his feelings? How can you not, when your body weeps for him the way it does?

He likes to think you do, when he admires the way your eyes flutter closed when he steals kisses in the pantry. He likes to think you do, when you stay four hours past your shift and order takeaway for him. He likes to think you do, when you dangle Eric in front of him in order to get him to fuck you ​hard,​just the way you like it.

You are his, now.

~~~

Hyunjae’s love for you grows like tender flowers. It starts off small, but grows into something lovely and heartbreaking. You have carved your way into him, nestling against the walls of his heart and beseeching him to let you in with your stupid almond eyes.

He loves your stupid almond eyes.

He is on a cloud these days, brimming with affection that lights up his every step. He never considered himself to be one of those annoying, lovey-dovey honeymooners, but he can definitely see where they get their joy from.

Lovers alone wear sunlight.

You become his greatest delight. When you are around, even dust seems to sparkle like a thousand tiny diamonds. He loves waking up with you, your eyes half lidded and neck covered in his marks. He loves to see you in his clothes, smelling of his body wash, smelling of ​him.

(He has an extra special fondness for the days in which you are soft and pliant, allowing him to dress you like a doll. It makes his internal organs feel like they are tumbling over each other, and it makes him a little giddy. He loves taking care of you.)

But if he really had to pick a moment, he supposes he loves you most when you are with your patients, hands calm and steady and strong. It reminds him of everything beautiful there is about his profession, and he cannot get enough.

You are beautiful, in all the ways there are to be beautiful. You race through him like lightning, and he is sucked further into your orbit everyday. You carry his heart with you (inside yours), and you are never without it.

So he is overflowing with love when he picks you up and tastes your peach-covered mouth. He is overflowing with love when you smile at him with a sort of lightness that he's never quite seen directed at him before. He is overflowing with love as he goes to your favourite cafe one day to pick up the chowder you never stop talking about. Tonight, he will ask you to be his girlfriend, make this tentative little dance official.

Perhaps that is why the pain is so exquisite when he sees you with Younghoon, and hears you talking about Eric with such tenderness in your eyes.

“​He’s super enthusiastic and there’s just something about him that’s so... comforting. I see him and I think about nothing but sunshine and warmth and laughter. He’s just... so cheerful, compared to whatever i’ve been used to.​​” Something inside him shatters into a million jagged pieces when he hears the words, and every breath becomes as a blood-drenched ordeal.

Sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine and warmth and laughter. The words ring like alarm bells.

Fool. Naive, hopeless fool. You were never really his, were you? You might be the light by which his spirit is born, you might be his sun, moon and stars, but he? He is your nothing. He is the shadow that is birthed of your radiance, forever connected and forever forgotten.

Is this is why storms are named after people? You have destroyed him in the sweetest of ways. Is this taste of heartbreak? Rust coats his tastebuds. Is this how tears are born? The agony is magnificent and all-encompassing. There is nothing left for him here. He has never been enough, never will be.

He leaves quietly, chowder forgotten.

~~~

It is truly repulsive, the fact that he can see what you adore about Eric. The intern is strong and sweet, kind in all the ways Hyunjae is not. He is soft and mellow, and will cool your scalding tantrums with gentle words. He will not stir up the embers of your fury the way Hyunjae does, hoping for a reaction. He will be tender with you, gently laying you out and coaxing your body to sing. He will not be harsh and hard and possessive like Hyunjae, claiming you with bites and bruises and writing his possession into your blood.

He has been measured, and he has been found lacking. Eric is the perfect Hephaesthus, a sweet spring dandelion, and it is no surprise that Zeus will give you to him.

Aphrodite never belonged to Ares, after all.

“Hey, Eric! Do you have a moment?” By some miracle, his voice doesn’t crack.

“Hey, hyung! What can I do for you?” Eric is as mirthful as ever, and Hyunjae wishes they weren’t fighting over the same girl because he might actually ​like the​ intern otherwise.

“Have you gotten Y/N’s number yet?” He pauses to watch the bashful amusement dance across the intern’s face, and waits for the head shake he knows is coming. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but she’s very into you. So here’s her number, and make sure you call her, alright?” The teasing lilt he’s going for comes off more as a hoarse croak, and he realises belatedly that he really needs to be less of a shit actor.

“Thank you so much, hyung! But hey, don’t you hate Y/N? Why are you helping her out?” The intern offers him a cheeky grin, and all Hyunjae wants to do is knock his teeth out. But he’s a ​professional,​so he offers Eric a tight smile (read: grimace) and says “Well, maybe I’m hoping you’ll distract her from work so that I’ll get the promotion first.” He tosses a wink in for good measure, before reaching out to ruffle Eric’s hair with a certain sadistic pleasure.

That’s thirty minutes in the bathroom gone down the drain. But that’s what he gets for stealing Hyunjae’s girl.

Of course, because Eric is quite literally an angel who can apparently do no wrong, he gives Hyunjae a sweet smile and rolls away happily in his chair, high off his excitement at finally getting the girl he’s been after for ​ages.

And then Hyunjae is left alone to drown in self-loathing.

Hyunjae is clearly a masochist who likes to hurt himself, so that’s why he decides to tell you to meet him at the carpark after work. One last time, he’ll be the one to drive you home, the one who kisses you goodnight.

He promises he’ll let you go after this.

~~~

The car ride is as quiet as ever. You enjoy being left alone with your thoughts, and Hyunjae isn’t about to interrupt you when he’s being pummeled by his own.

The Japanese once made up a fictional disease to describe the horrors of unrequited love. They call it ​Hanahaki​, in which flowers grow in the lungs of the victims, causing them to cough up petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

He supposes that it is the exact feeling that he feels now. His love for you coils in his chest, choking leaves and thorns that crush his internal organs. It is rooted so deep that it might never leave, killing him softly but surely. The petals tickle his throat in an insidious kiss as he chokes on his desire for you, their softness a poisonous taunt of your lips against his, a feeling he might never know again.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a balm to his wounded heart.

Of course he’s not okay. He’s in love with you, but you’re not in love with him. He knows that he is nothing without you, and that knowledge is somehow everything.

All this time he wanted to make you his, but you have made him yours.

He cannot form words, so he looks at you, really, really looks at you. He memorises the contours of your face, the slender bone of your nose, the tilt of your eyes, the exact shade of red your lips are. He'll hold every little detail close, remember the last night you're his and his alone, because tomorrow Eric will ask you out and his Aphrodite will never be his again.

He wants to pretend like the sudden moisture in his eyes is surprising, but he can't lie to himself anymore.

Liar, liar. Ares is a liar.

Is this how Lucifer felt when he fell from heaven? You are life, you are life and light and everything bright. And he is cold, dark and alone. He has fallen from grace, and all that is left are the coiling tendrils of hubris keeping his spine straight and gluing the shattered pieces of his heart together. He is heartbroken, but he will clench his teeth and grit through it. Your joy is worth it. His ego won't let him fall apart. He's stronger than this. Isn't he?

Break my heart. Break it into a thousand pieces and then some. It was only ever yours to break anyways.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Anyways, we’re here now. Get out already.” Your scoff is musical. He is aching and he is broken, so he does not have the strength to resist the screaming in his head to steal one last kiss from you. He luxuriates in the feeling of your petal-soft lips against his, before pulling away reluctantly.

Everything is more beautiful because the two of you are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. You will never share this moment again.

“Goodbye, kitten.”

The words are far more permanent than he likes. You don’t hear them.

His tears run as he pulls out of your driveway. He allows himself one last look at you, confusion blossoming on the face he once swore was hideous but now haunts his every moment.

Love is fire. It burns as much as it warms, and he is the poor fool who allowed himself to get scarred.

~~~

Crossing the line from enemies to lovers was a wheeling drop of ecstasy and biting kisses. Crossing the line from lovers back to co-workers is a study in heartbreak, and Hyunjae doesn't know how much longer he can handle it.

How do I forget you? I've tasted your secrets on my lips and drank the whispers of your body. You are the weakness in my bones and the hollowness in my lungs. How do I cleave my soul from yours, when you are the drum that my heart beats to?

It is an awful sort of pain, feeling his chest cave in when he watches Eric roll over to you from his cubicle. You find him cute, it's obvious from the way your eyes crinkle like little stars when you regard him.

Look at me. Look only at me.

You look up, searching for his eyes like you’ve heard his prayer. You're expecting jealousy, disdain, fury. You're expecting him to drag you to the pantry, to call you ​kitten ​and kiss you till you bleed. But Hyunjae has no more poison to offer you. He is empty, and all he can do is give you a blank look. He hopes you will be happy, silently wishing you the best.

Hephaestus gets Aphrodite, and all Ares can do is watch. Bloody, brutal Ares is never the winner.

His lack of response throws you off. By now, you are used to his hissy fits, his seething rages. But who is he? What right does he have? You are not his to rage over, or his to claim. You might wear his marks on your neck, but you are definitely not ​his.

How he wishes you were. But wishes are like pixie dust, and this is no fairytale.

The rest of the day is agonising. His body is so keenly attuned to yours now, and he doesn’t know how to rewire himself. He keeps a cool distance from you, but every molecule in his being roars in fury at the forced detachment.

He misses you already.

You continue to press him, trying to push his buttons and rile him up. Hyunjae studiously ignores you, hoping his coldness will further fray the ropes holding up the fragile bridge of a relationship that the two of you have developed. You are looking at him with a strange mix of anger, disdain and annoyance. For a second, he thinks he might even see-

Is that? Could it be? Longing? Do you miss him like he misses you?

Wishful thinking. That’s what it is. But it hurts so bad that he decides that he’s just going to avoid you from now on, until he finds a more appropriate coping mechanism than simply crying like a toddler when he can’t get his way.

Maybe he should call Minhee, and try to rekindle-

He cuts the thought off before it dredges up more painful memories. All he can see when he thinks of Minhee are the one-thousand-and-one different ways you exceed her.

You’re fiercer, with more spine. You don’t give in as easily. You’re not afraid to fight with him. You have a kinder heart. You are so much smarter. Your lips are softer. Your hand fits into his so much more perfectly. You are lovely in all the ways she never was, never will be.

It is a numbing, novocaine relief when Dr Choi summons him for rounds. If Hyunjae is left for even a second longer with his thoughts, he might just spiral into a pit of depressed longing and self pity that he might never emerge from.

Mighty Ares, on his knees. Aphrodite’s laughter perfumes the air, irresistible and menacing.

~~~

He is on his final round when he meets Mrs Kang. The kind, old lady takes one look at him, eyes lighting up with knowledge that he wishes she wasn’t able to glean so easily.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Well he doesn’t, but the words explode out of his bleeding heart like ink spilling on ivory pages.

“I... I thought that it would be okay, that I could forget and let go and that it would all be fine and good but then… I saw her--” his voice cracks miserably as a lump etches itself into his throat. His heart is racing, and every inhale feels like swallowing glass shards.

“I saw her and something went terribly wrong because I couldn’t forget and my heart was remembering and I felt like I was dying but I couldn’t do anything because all I want is for her to be happy and I know that happiness isn’t with me and I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT.”

Mrs Kang is silent, regarding him with a look he can’t quite decipher. He takes it as an invitation to continue.

“I wish I was him. I wish I was the one who could make her smile, make her laugh. But I’m angry, I’m jealous and I’m immature. I’m overly competitive, and I don’t know how to lose graciously. When I’m pissed, I do stupid, radical things.”

Silence. Inside, outside. It is deafening.

“Why would she want me? I don’t deserve her, and knowing that I’ll have to live my life watching her in another man’s arms is ripping me apart.”

He’s breathing hard, like he just ran a marathon. It’s a terrifying prospect, facing his feelings head on. Until now, they were swirling around his head in an ugly tangle of emotion. Verbalising them, hearing them out loud, is painful and cathartic at once. But he’s already feeling like a pathetic little sap. He wonders if you would sneer at him if you heard. Is this what it feels like to lose? Is this how you felt, lifetimes ago, on your sofa? The two of you have always been push and pull, a forever impasse. But today, you’ve finally shoved him off balance.

Who is the stronger Ares now? Your kisses are his kryptonite.

A hand comes to rest over his.

“Love always finds a way. I know you’re feeling hopeless now, but know that if you are meant for each other, you will always find your way back,” Mrs Kang finishes with a gentle smile. The pretty words do not reassure him.

If only love was as perfect as love seems to be, if only his flaws and broken edges could be hidden away. But this is a dream that will never come to life, a flower that will never grow to bloom.

She does not know who it is that he is fighting with, who it is that is slipping away from him with every passing second. She thinks that it will be okay, but she does not know that Ares has no mercy. He expects none from you. Nonetheless, he gives her a watery grin in return before standing up to complete his rounds. He may have lost, but he has enough composure to know better than to break in public.

It is a monumental effort, holding it together.

Hyunjae makes it to the lift in peace, stepping in through the shiny doors and slamming the button for the fifth floor. When they slide open, the sight before him makes his heart drop like a wineglass.

You and Eric are standing across him, hand in hand. Eric’s foot is tapping impatiently, eager to drag you off to wherever he was taking you for dinner.

For a second, he loses control over his emotions. Agony crumples his face, and you, because you’re just that smart and just that perceptive, register it. He doesn’t have the heart to pretend anymore.

Hyunjae brushes past the two of you, ignoring your questioning look, ignoring Eric’s cheerful greeting, and most importantly ignoring the writhing in his chest. He goes straight for his briefcase and shoves his belongings in, flicking the lights off and rushing to the carpark. He does not want to see anyone. He does not want to process anything.

He is empty. So, so empty, and hollow. The void inside him threatens to consume him whole.

The moment he reaches home, he goes straight to his spirits. There’s a bottle of whiskey sitting in the top most shelf of his kitchen, a birthday gift from his father. He pulls it down, slamming the glass decanter onto the kitchen counter, and the pressure nearly cracks it open.

He remembers the sight of you pressed up against this very counter, squirming under his ministrations. He remembers your lips fall open in a sigh, and then to beg. He remembers standing between your thighs, feeding you and then licking cream off your lips. Memories swirl through his head, cutting through his ribcage and slicing his heart open.

He doesn’t bother to grab a glass, pouring the scorching liquid down his throat. It claws at him, and he welcomes the pain.

Love is cruel, love is cold. When it kills, it does it slow.

He knows the tears are coming. The pressure has been building in his head for the last twenty-four hours. They fall as he walks over to the living room, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

The mirror you clutched when you moaned wretchedly, promising him that HE was the only one who could ever ruin you this way.

He lifts the bottle, forcing himself to look his reflection in the eye as he drinks a toast to Eric. ​Here’s to you, buddy.

His reflection sneers back, bloodshot and desolate. A half of a whole, incomplete. This is what he is without you.

Hyunjae sinks to the ground, bottle thumping down on the carpet. It rolls once, twice, and rivulets of alcohol splash across the floor. Another memory lunges up.

There is nothing more striking than red on white. Blood on snow. Wine on cream skin, tracing paths his eager tongue follows. A hiss of anger that softens into a sigh.

The sofa smells like you. The study smells like you. You are everywhere, and it breaks him, tearing a wail of grief out of his chest.

One day, the smell of you will fade. You will slip between his fingers like the wisp of a dream, and all he will be left with is the recollection of the fleeting seconds you were his and his alone.

Too much. This is too much. He cannot think, he cannot see, he cannot ​breathe,​without being haunted by you. You are in every orifice, in every nook and cranny and cell. You are in the water of his blood and in the porous hollows of his bones. You are in the fibre between his atoms, you are in the electricity racing across his neurons. 

There is no escape from you, not now, not ever.

You are inevitable.

(Knock, knock)

It takes him a moment to realise that the pounding is not from the blood rushing in his head, but from someone impatiently banging on his door. He picks himself off the floor, not bothering to fix his appearance.

By now, you must be in Eric’s arms. He would kiss you softly, like summer rain. You would sigh into his lips, and he would look at you like you hung the moon. He would take you home, and press more kisses into your silk skin as he whispers his love. One day, he would get on one knee and present you with a diamond. You would say yes, because Eric is sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine. Warmth. Laughter.

This, this is what you deserve. Not him, not his twisted mess of anger and jealousy. He is a stinging scorpion, and you deserve more than his petty poisons. But his heart still lurches at the thought of you, nestled into Eric.

The gods have always feared Aphrodite more than Ares. He thinks he can finally understand why.

He swings the door open, and once again forgets how to breathe, forgets how to think, forgets that he kinda hates you but now kinda loves you because there you are, raindrops glistening in your eyelashes, and you eclipse every star in the sky. There is nothing but you and you alone, and his withered little heart is shooting to life because ​that’s just what you do to him. There’s so much he wants to say, so many thoughts tumbling through his head. But he’s a frightful, useless coward, so all that flies out of his mouth is:

“Why the fuck are you--”

And then your lips are cushioned against his, kissing the venom out of him. He cannot help the sigh he breathes into your mouth at the way your body slots so perfectly against his.

Home, home is in your arms. He has been running all his life, and you have always been his only destination.

Tears slip out, hot and fast, washing the festering wound inside him clean. The cracked pieces of his soul begin to lift up and fuse together.

The light of a thousand suns slices through the void in him, and the darkness melts like ice on a hot summer day.

He is shuddering, wrecked by the sheer ​force​ of the emotions in him. But you are holding him tight, so very tight. He hopes you will never let him go. ​Never ever, ever let him go.

He is yours, and you are his. Where he ends, you begin and where you end, he begins. There is nothing else, no one else, because there was never anyone for him but you. Love not at first sight, or even the second, but at last sight and at ever and ever sight.

When you finally pull away to murmur the words he would have never even dreamed of hearing from you, it’s like starlight is filling the dusty hollows of his chest, sewing the pieces that have fallen apart back into the tapestry that is you. He is surprised, he really is, but something inside him has always known, has always clung to the hope that you would choose him, despite everything.

All that matters, is that you’ve come back to him. You are the only truth he’s ever known.

~~~ 

Later in the evening, when the two of you are spent from your love-making and coiled so tightly that your breaths have become one, Hyunjae takes a moment to contemplate the situation. You have won this competition between the two of you. You have planted yourself as first in his life, and for once (​and of course, the only time ever, because he is still going to get that damn promotion before you)​, he is happy to cede to you. This is what love is, to break and to be broken, to be full and to be empty, to win and to lose. He would have it no other way. All that he is, and all that he will be, center around the axis that is you.

Do you feel like this too? Like your heart is bursting from the seams?

You sigh in your sleep, seemingly agreeing. He loves you so much, it hurts. But there is one final thing to do.

He lifts his head to the stars, who have been waiting for this collision of souls for a long, long time.

Thank you, he whispers.

And for once, Zeus smiles down on his Ares.

ENDING THOUGHTS:

First of all, a very big thank you to everyone who made it to the end!! This piece has been a wild, emotional ride from start to finish and I understand that the sudden change in style can be jarring for some. As such, I am very grateful to everyone who took the time to read it :)

Hyunjae has always been a very complicated character. We’ve seen him through Y/N’s eyes for the last 17 or so chapters, and she is definitely not the most reliable of narrators. Many of her thoughts regarding his actions and motivations are shadowed by her own negative emotions, and he has come off as a rather poisonous character, except for the rare moments of tenderness he seems to show. Hopefully this will help you get a glimpse into Hyunjae’s psyche, in a way that is untainted by Y/N. I’ve seen many of your asks about Hyunjae and his behaviour, and perhaps you will see this as a sort of redemption for him, in the sense that he is so much deeper and complex than the seething neanderthal Y/N sees him as.

Writing this was a challenge nonetheless, and I think we should all be very grateful to Dana for powering through Y/N and Hyunjae’s story, given how much of a hot mess this couple is! It’s very hard to write an enemies-to-lovers fic without it coming off as corny and shallow, and she had the double struggle of writing that dynamic in a medical setting. The fact that we’re all whipped for these two is testament to her brilliant writing, so let’s all say a big thank you for that :))

Before I end, I’d like to pay homage to some of the writers that have inspired this fic. Reading through, you will see quotes inspired by the likes of Nabokov, Cummings and Homer. If I’m not wrong, there’s a little bit of Sarah J Maas and Caitlyn Siehl in there as well. And of course, who can forget the little bits of mythology peeking out here and there? If you happened to notice these references, feel free to scream in Dana’s ask box! It’ll be fun to read your thoughts :)

Once again, a very big thank you for following Hostis so devotedly, and showering Dana with your love. I hope you’ll continue to give her all your love and support the rest of her works.

(P.S Did anyone notice Pilot! Juyeon? If you didn’t, you should 1000% check out his story too, here.)

Love Always,

V

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XVIII: Renuntiatio

Wedding Party I

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. Lucy and Rami’s wedding is coming up and you and Ben are both part of the wedding party, with one catch. 

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: cussing, fluff, some roasting of reader 

A/N: This is the third and final part of my 500 follower celebration!! Though you might be able to guess that this will have more than one part, so stay tuned! Thank you so much again to everyone who follows me, including the people that have since I hit 500, cause it’s been a minute, whoops. I’m hoping to post updates to this weekly until it’s done. (Side note, obviously not shaming reader and neither are any of her friends, including Lucy, she just doesn’t want any drama.) Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Part II, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Mini ii, Masterlist

(hot hot hot gif by @mrbenhardys​)

💖💖💖

Over the past couple years, you had found yourself attending no fewer than three weddings a year, and last year broke the record with six. It was always a bit of a to do but you enjoyed it nonetheless, happy to see your friends happy and to go to a party. You hadn’t always been so happy to go; originally you were a little cynical and bitter about being single while all of your school and university friends got married. But then, at the second wedding you had been to, you hooked up with the best man and your opinion had been changed. It was easy to be happy for the happy couple when you were having hot sex with friends of friends with no chance for strings or feelings.

As such, you had grown a bit of a reputation among your friends that had borne witness to this behavior. A few teased you about it, a couple were silent, and a few more cheered you on, but none tried to stop you. This was mainly because none of them had seen how it would negatively impact them. And it wasn’t like it was terrible, but on more than one occasion you and some other guest had been walked in on, sometimes only a heated making out, but sometimes in the act. You had apologized and even tried to make it till after the reception, but it was hard sometimes with all the free booze and romantic songs and pretty lights making you hornier than ever.

Maybe there had been some awkward happenings when it was a destination wedding and the wedding party had events the next day. While you were happy with the one and done, some of the men you had hooked up with would be miffed when you kicked them out after the deed and didn’t seem so interested the next morning. After a couple uncomfortable brunches where everyone could feel the tension in the air (and not the good kind), you had decided to stick with the guys that were just a bit douchey and wouldn’t be so pained at a one night stand. Not that they didn’t sometimes get butthurt when you dropped ‘em too.

But to you, that was the beauty of the thing: hot sex for one night and one night only. You and whoever else you were with would exist in a made-up wedding world for the ceremony, reception, a couple hours of fucking, and then it would all be over and you could go back to your real world without any consequences. Okay, so only a couple consequences.

You thought that you would be able to keep this up indefinitely; you had a ton of friends in relationships who would have plenty of eligible bachelors at their weddings. That is, until your best friend, Lucy, got engaged to Rami. When she had invited you over for brunch just the two of you and had told you the news, you were enthralled for her. Rami was an amazing guy and you had never seen Lucy as happy as when she was with him. And then you were enthralled for yourself when you thought about all Rami’s actor friends that would undoubtedly be there. You had already met a couple, Joe and Gwilym, and if they were any sign of what level of men would be there, you couldn’t wait.

Your daydreams all came crashing down around you when Lucy abruptly said, “You’re not allowed to fuck anyone at my wedding.”

The two of you had just separated from your happy hug so she put her hands on your shoulders to make sure you looked at her and were paying attention.

“I-I-- What?” you stumbled out, brought from your reverie that was running through a list of A-list celebrity names that might be at the wedding. You tried to look innocent but the fiery look in Lucy’s eyes stopped you. So instead you whined, “Why?”

Lucy just rolled her eyes, though fondly, and replied, “Sit down.”

The two of you sat down at the wonderful brunch she (probably with help from Rami who was quite the home cook) had made and plated a couple items, poured mimosas, and you took your first bite before she continued.

“Obviously, Rami and I are very private people. We don’t like our relationship broadcasted to the public, and Rami feels that way about most of his life in general. So we’ve decided to have a really small wedding. We want it to be intimate and to share our love with each person that attends. We don’t feel like we have to prove anything or live up to any crazy standard and invite hundreds of people, half of whom we’ve never even spoken to,” Lucy explained, and throughout her little speech you felt yourself get a little emotional because you could tell how truly and deeply she and Rami loved each other. Lucy’s voice cracked a little and you reached your hand over to hers to give it a gentle squeeze.

Lucy took a sip of her drink and then said with a more pointed tone, “So because we are close friends or family with every single person that will be there, we don’t want anybody… fraternizing with anybody else and causing… awkward circumstances for us or any of the guests.”

“‘We,’ Lucy? Rami told you he didn’t want me fucking anyone?” you asked sarcastically.

“Well, when I say we I mean me, mainly. But Rami does want a drama-free wedding, as do I,” Lucy conceded. As she finished her sentence, Rami walked in having returned from what looked like the gym.

“What about me? Hi Y/N, hi sweet,” Rami said, dropping a kiss to your cheek briefly and then giving Lucy a more substantial one on the lips.

“Oh we were just talking about the wedding, you know,” Lucy said and Rami grinned.

“Did you ask her?” he inquired.

“Ask me what?”

“Well you know that Emma and I have had a pact to have each other as our maids of honour since we were like two and three,” she started and you nodded, knowing the story because she and her sister had relayed it many times over the years you had known them. “But will you do me the honour of being one of my bridesmaids?” A big smile took over your face and you jumped up to hug her, practically yelling “yes!” into her ear. Then you brought Rami into the hug as well, all of you laughing and smiling.

When that was done, you all sat back down, Rami pulling up a chair and grabbing a plate. Then you turned to him and said, “So Rami, Luce was just about to tell me about all of your friends that are going to be there.”

You were just teasing, but as you saw Lucy’s miffed face, you couldn’t help yourself. “You know, I really liked meeting Joe and Gwilym, it’d be nice to see them again. And can’t forget about that Ben who you all talk so much about. ‘Haven’t met him yet, but I’m sure the wedding will fix that.”

So that Lucy couldn’t see, you winked at Rami to make sure he knew you were joking, mostly.

Before you could say another word, Lucy burst out, “No, do not fuck anyone. Okay? Do. Not. Fuck. Anyone. Especially Ben.”

Your ears perked up at that, “Ben? Why especially Ben?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Lucy hesitated for a second, a look of panic taking over her face.

“Because you guys will be walking together and you’ll spend the most time together,” Rami saved her.

“Yeah, it would mess up the whole party’s dynamic. Just don’t okay?” Lucy asked with a pleading look in her eyes to make you feel guilty.

“Okay, geez, I won’t. You guys act like I’m some floozy who can’t keep it in her pants,” you half-pouted for a second, but then they both gave you a look. “Whatever, I won’t, I won’t!”

_

Unbeknownst to you, the reason they were so hell-bent on keeping your attention off Ben specifically was not because he was the groomsman to your bridesmaid (although that would’ve been reason enough). It was actually because Ben had the exact same reputation amongst his friends as you did yours.

After he had gotten out of a more serious relationship a couple years ago, he hadn’t settled down again. With plenty of friends getting married, his was the same fruitful situation as yours, and he used it to his benefit. The wedding scene was a lot more reliable than just hitting up any old bar or pub.

Ben had also gotten the no fucking speech, but from Rami when he asked him to be a groomsman. He had agreed to the rule with a begrudging nod. Ben was easier to convince since he was mutual friends with a lot of Lucy and Rami’s friends and would know most everyone at the wedding.

While you and Lucy had been best friends for years, you weren’t an actress and didn’t already know most of her actor friends. Because of Lucy’s filming schedules and locations, you relied on a lot of facetime to keep up with each other. You had only met Joe because you had tagged along on a Venice trip with Lucy and Rami. Gwilym you had got to know a bit more because whenever Lucy and Rami were in town for more than a week they liked to have dinner parties or game nights and both of you were frequently in attendance. Ben’s filming schedule or other priorities had always prevented him from joining in, at least for times you had gone.

Of course you had seen pictures of Ben on everyone’s instagram, and maybe had done some stalking of your own. Not to mention you watched Bohemian Rhapsody, obviously, and had caught a couple of other things he had been in just by happenstance. He seemed like a pretty good actor and a pretty great guy from what you could tell. Plus, you trusted the judgement of your friends about his character.

_____

Lucy and Rami weren’t ones to do the more extravagant things that some engaged couples did. Instead of a big engagement party, they decided to have a dinner party with just their families and the wedding party.

The party started at 6:30pm, so you got there… at 6:50pm. You hadn’t meant to be late but you couldn’t decide between two dresses, worrying that the one you wanted to wear would be too dressy. You ended up going for it anyway, it was black with an opaque sweetheart neckline and a mesh and lace section that made it sleeveless and so it wasn’t actually strapless. It wasn’t bodycon but it hugged your curves nicely and had gold shimmery thread as part of the lace that caught the light. You had also done your makeup and hair quickly but thought that the overall effect was nice.

As you arrived at their door, you tried the handle, hoping it was open so you could slip in quietly, but no dice. So you knocked twice and stepped back to wait. No answer came so you knocked again louder and waited again. Just as you were about to raise your hand again, the door swung open and you saw Joe there.

He smiled when he recognized you; the two of you had become quick friends during those couple days in Venice.

But before he could say anything, you glanced past him and asked, “Dinner hasn’t started, right? I’m not that late?”

Joe laughed and shook his head, “No, everyone’s still getting drinks and stuff. You’re only like five minutes behind the last person to arrive. Nice to see you by the way.”

You laughed sheepishly and leaned in for the hug he offered, “Nice to see you too, Joe. How’s everything?”

The two of you headed further into the apartment as he told you, “Pretty good. I'm actually starting filming just outside London so I’ll be over here basically until right after the wedding. No trips back and forth for me.”

“That’s great! And that means you’ll be ‘round for game nights. I’ll have to warn you that Gwilym and I make a great team.”

Joe scoffed at that, “Gwil and I are a great team, thank you very much.”

“Funny, he hasn’t mentioned anything to me about your skills,” you shot back with a smirk.

“Guess we’ll just have to ask him.”

“Guess we will.”

Gwilym ended up being the first person the two of you saw as you entered the living room. He saw you walk in and headed over quickly with a big smile on his face.

“Ah Y/N, glad you made it!” he said, leaning down for a peck on the cheek and a quick hug.

“Yep, and only 20 fashionable minutes late,” you replied and the three of you laughed.

“Alright, alright, introductions are over. We have something to settle with you Gwil,” Joe said seriously.

“Oh?” Gwil asked, a little confused.

“That’s right. Joe and I wanted to know which one of us is the best game night partner,” you asked, pointing an accusatory finger as Joe squinted his eyes at him.

Gwil broke out in laughter, which only seemed slightly nervous. “Well you see… It’s like comparing apples and oranges. Y/N you’re better at trivia but Joe you’re really good at charades.”

Joe and you looked at each other and then back to Gwil.

“Seems like a bit of a cop-out to me,” Joe pointed out.

“Yeah, why don’t you just give us a real--”

“Y/N! There you are!” you heard Lucy calling out to you and you turned to see your best friend excusing herself from some of her family members. She half ran over to you and pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Hey you look nice,” you told her when you pulled back and could see her outfit. She was in a flowy cream colored dress with ruffles and gold ribbon sewn in.

“Thank you,” she replied. Then a cheeky smile took over her face and she told you, “You look a bit like a young widow attending her 80-year-old husband’s funeral after killing him in his sleep. All you’re missing is the black veil.”

“Shut up!”

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N, you look lovely,” Rami told you as he walked up.

As he kissed your cheek and you leaned in for a hug you told him while looking at Lucy, “Thank you, Rami, you truly are such a good friend.”

“I’m just telling it like it is,” Lucy shrugged to everyone’s amusement.

Everyone got to chatting and catching up, but when you were in the middle of a conversation with Gwil, Lucy pulled you away.

“Where did he get to?” Lucy wondered, looking around the room. “Who--?”

“Ah there he is,” Lucy told herself more than you and started pulling you over to the other side of the room.

You had no idea where she was leading you to until you noticed a man with blonde hair facing the other direction and talking to a couple you didn’t know. Realizing it must be Ben, your stomach dropped but whether it was out of anticipation, excitement, or anxiousness you couldn’t tell. Ben had been hyped up so much both by your friends and by the idea of him you had in your mind. Now it was even worse after that speech Lucy had given you a couple weeks ago. Even though she hadn’t meant to, she was putting all of your attention on Ben with the thought of sex in mind. Now you were just trying to stave it off so you didn’t make a fool of yourself upon meeting him.

Taking a deep breath in as Lucy tapped on his shoulder, you tried to ready yourself for anything that might happen. Ben looked quickly and saw that it was Lucy and politely excused himself from the conversation.

Even just hearing him say that made your eyes widen slightly; he had such a deep, rich voice that in any other case your mouth would practically be watering at the thought of what it would sound like in bed. Now, you had that thought but had to drop it quickly from your mind because it would lead places that weren’t allowed.

Ben finally turned around, smiling at Lucy and then his expression turned to interest when he saw you.

“Ben, I’d like you to meet my best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Ben,” Lucy said and the two of you shook hands, smiling and exchanging pleasantries. “Okay so you both already know that you’ll be walking together so… get to know each other! Become, acquainted, better yet become friends!”

Both of you laughed lightly at Lucy’s words and then waved her off when someone started calling for her.

“So you’re the infamous Ben,” you said jokingly, looking him up and down as if you were studying him and not as if he was just incredibly good to look at.

“Infamous? Do I have that bad of a reputation?” Ben said back good-naturedly, though he was a little worried you had heard about his penchant for sleeping with people at weddings, especially with Rami confronting him about it.

“Well, maybe not bad, more I’ve just heard about you so much without meeting you that if it weren’t for your movies I wouldn’t have thought you really existed,” you amended with a smile.

“Oh my movies, huh? You’ve seen more than one?” Ben asked cheekily and your cheeks flushed for a moment.

“Well I’ve obviously seen borhap, as you would call it, and I saw X-Men before all that to keep up with the series, and my family’s very into action movies, so I caught 6 Underground with them,” you explained.

“Seems like you’re pretty familiar with my filmography,” he pointed out with a smile.

“If that’s what you wanna think…”

“I think that you’ve been here for about ten minutes and no one’s gotten you a drink. Can I fix that?” Ben asked, gesturing to your empty hands.

“Lead the way,” you replied, and he guided you over to where a little bar was set up. On the way, you had to remind yourself again of the rules and that though a handsome man was making you a drink, that was all that was happening.

“Alright, they’ve got the works so what would you like?” Ben said with an easy smile.

“Oh, um, I like Moscow mules,” you told him.

“Good choice, good choice,” Ben replied as he looked around at the different bottles. “A Moscow mule…”

“Do you know how to make a Moscow mule?” you asked because he had missed the ginger beer bottle about three times.

“What? Of course I… don’t,” he admitted sheepishly.

“It’s okay, I can just make it,” you suggested but Ben shook his head.

“No, I said I was going to get you a drink, and I’ll make it. If you could just tell me how?” he said with a small smile.

You laughed and nodded, “Okay, so just squeeze a lime wedge into the glass and go ahead and drop it in. Then a couple ice cubes, that’s good. And now two oz. of vodka, actually why don’t you do one and a half, I don’t need two right now. Now you just fill the rest with ginger beer and give it a stir!”

Ben stirred the drink and then garnished it with another lime wedge, “Ta-da, my first ever Moscow mule and all for you!”

Taking it from him, you waited until he grabbed his own drink again and then held yours up for a cheers. After taking a sip you said, “Mmm, very good, just like a real bartender. Do you want to try?”

“Sure,” he replied with a smile and you carefully exchanged drinks so he didn’t have to hold both while he did. Your hands brushed against each other a couple times and you had to keep your breath from catching at how warm his hands were and the way he looked at you when it happened. “Oh wow, yeah that’s very good. Maybe I’ll have to have these from now on.”

“And hey, if the acting thing ever stops working out, you could always fall back on being a bartender,” you joked, unable to stop your laughter.

Ben shook his head but laughed too, saying, “That’s cold, that’s cold.”

Then he took another gulp of your drink and you reached forward to get it from him, “Hey, that’s mine, make your own if you’re so good at it.”

“Just a repayment for you being so mean. There, have it back,” he said with a smirk, handing it back to you and grabbing his own drink from your hand.

“Hmph,” you held your drink close to you to keep him from getting it again and Ben laughed at your actions, about to say something else when Rami was heard over the chatter saying that dinner was ready.

_

For dinner you were sat in between Lucy and Joe with Ben across from you and Gwilym and Rami next to him. Talk and laughter interrupted the actual eating of the meal, but it was hard to mind because everyone was having so much fun. Lucy and Rami’s families were on the other side of them, so everyone got to hear funny stories about their childhood as well.

After dinner, you and Emma had volunteered to get the dessert ready after some others had helped put away the dishes. You took it as an opportunity to catch up a little.

“So, you and that Ben seem to be hitting it off,” Emma said in a teasing tone as she started grabbing little plates from a cupboard.

“Please, you’re not doing recon for Lucy are you?” you asked with a roll of your eyes and taking the cleaned forks from the dish rack.

Emma looked at you confusedly, “What do you mean?”

“She didn’t tell you what she told me?” you asked and she shook her head. You sighed, taking the cover off the homemade sheet cake as you told her, “She told me that I wasn’t allowed to fuck anyone. And especially Ben because we’re walking together.”

Emma broke out in laughter at the words you said and the dejected way in which you said them, accidentally dropping the cake server onto the counter with a clatter, “Oh my gosh, honestly I can’t blame her, you do kinda wreak havoc on weddings.”

“That’s not fair! There’s only been like two outright verbal fights because of me,” you defended, taking the cake server yourself and starting to cut squares of cake.

“Hey, don’t take your anger out on the cake,” she pointed to your first haphazard piece of cake. “Anyway, how many passive aggressive altercations have there been because of you?”

“I dunno,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders but Emma’s look made you add, “Fine, a lot.”

“Exactly, now Ben’s hot I’ll give you that,  but I think you can survive these next weeks without jumping his bones. It’s not like you’ll be seeing him all the time,” Emma told you.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be an adult, whatever. Lucy and Rami already covered this, you know,” you said with a bit of annoyance.

“Okay I’ll shut up. Let’s get this cake out there before there’s a riot,” she joked and you smiled, following her back into the living room with the pan of cake as she took the forks and plates.

_

Emma’s speech (you swore next it’ll be their mom telling you not to fuck Ben) did give you new resolve not to get too friendly with Ben, thinking it was better to interact with him in groups from now on.

That plan went well for most of the rest of the night as Joe, Gwilym, and Emma proved effective buffers. But then Gwilym had to leave because he had call time in the morning and Joe went with because he was staying with him. Then Emma went off to compare notes with Sami, Rami’s brother, about their respective maid of honor and best man responsibilities. You looked around and realized that because it was getting later and the families had gone home and Lucy and Rami were off doing who knows what in the kitchen, you were completely alone with Ben.

Not only that, but you were sitting right next to him on the couch and your knees were definitely touching. You tapped your fingers on your cup as you listened to Ben. He was telling you about shooting in Italy, which you had asked about because after going to Venice, you wanted to see more, but it was hard to pay attention. Your focus was being brought to his hands that he used to gesture as he talked. To his hair that he would absent-mindedly run his fingers through whenever a strand fell down onto his forehead. To his lips, oh fuck his full lips, that he licked whenever he smiled or laughed.

You could feel yourself leaning closer to him and if you weren’t wrong, his words were slowing down and he was getting closer to you too.

“So, yeah, I loved Florence, but um, Siena was something-- something special. It’s, it’s really-- really gorgeous,” Ben finished.

You looked up at him but found that he was looking at your lips and had tugged his own between his teeth. With the second drink in your system and the way you could feel Ben’s body heat radiating towards you and pulling you in, you were a second away from saying fuck it iand just kissing him.

“Are you done with your drink? Do you need another or?” Lucy’s voice asking you brought both of you out of whatever state you were in and you moved apart from each other, not so subtly.

You looked to Lucy and didn’t miss the pointed look she was giving you. “No, I should probably actually head out. I’ve got something in the morning, thanks though.”

Ben stood up when you did and you said goodbye with a strictly friendly hug. Then you said goodbye to Lucy, telling her quietly that she didn’t have to say anything. You found Rami with Emma and Sami and said goodbye to all of them.

As you were headed to the front door to let yourself out, Ben walked up behind you.

“Hold on a second,” he said and you turned around to him with a pleasant smile. “I, um, wanted to give you my number in case there’s ever anything that we need to discuss or whatever since we’re, you know, walking together.”

Ben was a little awkward getting that out, so you handed your phone to him with a bright, “Sure!” to reassure him.

He typed in his phone number and you were ready to walk away with a quick goodbye but Ben got a look in his eye. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you and your breath caught, and then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Although not the kiss you were expecting, it still had an effect on you. It was different to the ones you had gotten from say Gwilym or Rami. Though it was probably just as quick, it felt a lot longer and just that simple act made your whole body feel warm.

“Looking forward to seeing you soon,” Ben said softly, hardly waiting for your quiet, “you too” before walking back to the living room.

You reached your hand up to the spot on your cheek he had kissed and walked out the door. That warm feeling didn’t go away all night.

💖💖💖

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Ty lee (i feel like i havent seen many of you ty lee thots)

honestly love her!! tbh i don’t have many that others haven’t said more clearly and more interestingly

Why I like them

she’s a character with lots of hidden motives, depths, and complexity, who guards her true thoughts and opinions quite closely, but simultaneously *is* what she advertises herself as: a happy-go-lucky girl. like i don’t think her cheerfulness and her enthusiasm for auras and spirituality is entirely inauthentic - it’s just that she’s adept at using her own enthusiasm to mask her real feelings and thoughts. like there’s a lot to her there.

Why I don’t

i mean, she props up an imperialist coup of ba sing se by stealing the disguises of warriors who honour the avatar. objectively not good. 

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

oh, the beach, hands down. we finally get to see a glimpse of what troubles and upsets ty lee, and how she struggles. we also get to see her angry, instead of hiding negative emotions through evasion.

Favorite season/movie

book two. oh sure book three adds depth and complexity but we barely see her. book two just has so many good lines and moments - the clumps or tufts debate, the first time we see how devastating chi blocking is, the match against the kyoshi warriors (underrated), all the stuff with the drill... classic honestly.

Favorite line

okay if i’m honest “you’re not prettier than us!” at the kyoshi warriors cracks me up. i know it’s a line that is almost definitely written by misogynists who believe beauty/prettiness is central to girls/women and how they see themselves and how they should see themselves, but when you remove that context it’s just so jarring and it screams baby gay to me, or some kind of issues that need to be sorted out.

Favourite outfit

oh she looks great as a kyoshi warrior! love her there :)

OTP

okay i love mailee and tysuki equally for different reasons.

mailee i love because the whole concept of love being about communication and building your own language and finding ways to speak only to each other is key to it, especially given the toxic environment they are in s2-3 with azula, they’re incapable of being honest with words and have to communicate in other ways. but also i think there’s a lot of good angst potential. as well as hiding it from azula, they have so little time to themselves, and are so often surveilled, that it is difficult to ascertain each other’s feelings. they’re not sure of whether they can trust *each other*, and there’s a sense of them wanting to reach out and confirm but not being able to... this is complicated further by mai’s relationship to zuko, which does ty lee read as genuine or as one of azula’s manipulations? when mai betrays azula for zuko, does ty lee ever expect to be loved back? the idea of them together is super sweet like goth/pink gfs rights but there’s depth there... complexity

as for tysuki, it’s like... this is very much an *interpretation* of how it could go down, but i love the idea that ty lee is able to find a sense of home and belonging and identity and selfhood in the kyoshi warriors, to build roots, to not just find herself but build herself, despite her expectations that it’d last six months to a year. and i love the idea of suki having an equal, who can take her in a fight, who can help her shoulder the difficulty of teaching and organising but brings some levity and mischief and fun back, after it feels like the war has sapped it out of them with responsibility after responsibility. i think suki’s groundedness could be exactly what ty lee needs and i think suki could do with a partner who can pull her own weight but also, make her smile. i like the idea too of ty lee really finding a place to call her home after all of the mess in the fire nation between her family and azula, away from all of that... it’s a little idyllic, but it’s what she needs. 

Brotp

oh ty lee & zuko!! there’s potential here, for sure. like zuko would need to see ty lee as more than ‘azula’s friend’, but they’re both emotional people who are outspoken about how they feel - it’s just zuko’s earnest and honest and wears his heart on his sleeve, whereas ty lee uses her reputation of ‘wearing her heart on her sleeve’ to hide it, & similar to how i think zuko’s inability to lie/emotional honesty is a big comfort and help to mai, i think it would similarly help ty lee. i really love the idea of these two in particular being able to talk about being hurt by azula together and help each other heal. but also i just like the ‘unlikely friendship’ dynamic of these two, and the possibility of zuko being able to overlook ty lee’s reputation to get to know her for real. they’ve both been overlooked/undervalued in their respective families, and both left the fire nation because of it (albeit in very different circumstance), are both well travelled and very independent for their respective ages, there’s definitely ‘on the road’ stories they could share, and both have struggled to find themselves in different ways. there’s a lot of common threads.

also i think ty lee & aang would be wonderful as well :) i think a lot of aang’s initial gaang - zuko, katara, and sokka - would probably want to head home after their adventures in the war, and i imagine aang ends up finding new companions to travel with. i like the idea of ty lee, after the kyoshi warriors, being one of these.

Head Canon

she’s a lesbian! :^)

just based off ‘the beach’ episode mainly, and how reluctant she seems around boys in that.

Unpopular opinion

hmmm i don’t think i have any?

A wish

asides from being happy and contented in general? would love to see her join aang’s second group of companions. i think toph, ty lee, aang, & potentially two new characters would be a really fun (and chaotic) little crew :^). also would just love her to realise the brotp potential with aang and zuko as outlined above, and get to date a nice girl of some kind.

OH I would also love more family background on her & exploration of the possible air nomad heritage ty lee theory, i’d love to see some of that. would make aang’s relationship even more meaningful (but potentially, complicated! having heritage doesn’t necessarily mean you’re part of that group).

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

being azula’s designated healer and makes-her-redemption-arc happen. i already outlined today why that’d be bad for zuko and i think, while their relationship is different, it would be a negative experience for ty lee as well. azula is her peer, a peer who has hurt her quite deeply through the manipulation she pulled to get ty lee to give up her dreams and come along and uses manipulation as a primary way of interacting with people (even if like, i think they might have had a genuine friendship as kids, that poisons a relationship quickly), then tried to kill mai when turned against her... like, ty lee has good reasons to want to stay away from her, and honestly ty lee needs to heal as well, needs time and space. she should not be responsible for her well being full stop, but especially in this situation. i’m not ruling out the possibility of reconciliation but ty lee and azula would need to ‘hard reset’ their relationship and that would mean plenty of time apart, azula coming forward with apologies, azula making amends, and slowly, over time, building up trust. but honestly, even if azula is genuine in wanting to make amends, i’m not sure risking her wellbeing for that process would be best for ty lee anyway - i’ve personally cut people off in my life for my own wellbeing for less (although really what decision is best depends on your personality outlook how comfortable you feel your support network etc. a multitude of factors). regardless of your interpretation of their dynamic, ty lee does not exist for azula, and should not exist to further her character development but also as a character in her own right at this point.

5 words to best describe them

cheerful, chaotic, complex, perceptive, pink! 

My nickname for them

“prettier than you <3” (after the kyoshi warriors line, but with a pink heart emoji because of course she would, but also because it’s just funny, lol. ty lee has a mean streak)

THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR.

You don’t have to agree with what I’m about to say, you’re allowed to have your own feelings and opinion, this is just my post reflection re-examined take not just as a black fan but as human in general but I hope it gives you a new perspective. I’ve been thinking about this whole situation and wanting to see if there’s something I’m missing because something feels badly wrong and I just can’t shake it. 

I think what genuinely started off as respectful constructive criticism has now become people nitpicking on a whole new level and some people just being flat out hateful. I’m talking DEMONIC level vile and twisting things to fit some messed up agenda they have. To be honest some non black or poc fans seem more upset about this situation than black fans themselves. I feel like this whole thing has now gotten out of hand and taken a lot of focus off the movement that could honestly be a lot better spent.

The class of 2020 video I felt was her just trying to be light hearted and connect with people who yes, many are going through a difficult time, but their graduation was supposed to be a really happy day. She was bullied a lot in school, so graduation must’ve been something she held on to during dark times and looked forward to to give her hope. Then she never got to fulfil the ending she imagined but she celebrated in her own way with her mum who was her rock the whole time in a not so glamorous setting but she was happy. So I think she just wanted to make them feel better and focus on the positives. Which I thought was nice of her. Taylor’s going through her own difficulties also. I didn’t see it as her trying to trivialise what other people may be going through at all. What did you want her to do? I’m pretty sure if she took a focus on the serious issues approach you’d say she’s being too negative or it wouldn’t be right in some other way.

As for the BLM situation, I too wished she’d do more and felt she had so much potential to still do better. I wrote a whole rambly post explaining my feelings. Here’s my original post for reference: https://musingsofaperpetualdaydreamer.tumblr.com/post/620145959803961344/maybe-i-am-stupid-for-feeling-this-hurt-and-its

After taking some time to think about it, I’ve come to some realisations that have given me a new perspective. Do I think that Taylor could still do better? Yes she has lots of potential to improve. But what is better? Who gets to decide what level of better is enough? What I’ve come to realise is though I think a lot of people are genuinely coming from a place of love, we’re holding Taylor to an unfair standard. Before you get all outraged just hear me out.

Like I said in my original post I think most of us feel this is odd and confusing for the same reasons. In any case, I think our special bond with her is the major part of why we’re holding her to this high standard. The fan/celebrity dynamic can be incredibly toxic for both parties. She’s grateful for her fans and goes above and beyond the norm to really make us all feel special and loved, like we’re friends almost. But the truth is, fan love can be very toxic and in reality she’ll never be able to love us back the way we love her or want her to. Not because she doesn’t care enough to but the very nature of our relationship makes it impossible to do so because this relationship is an unnatural one.

Essentially she is one human who is and or does something we like (ie. make music), that we often also attach our own super meaningful significances and emotion to. So it’s more than just what they are/do it’s also what that means to us. We are over a million individual STRANGERS who obsess and sort of stalk her in a socially acceptable way (for the most part) and we love her and believe we’re special to her because she approves and acknowledges and interacts with us as a collective group through posts online and during in person events. But because we also feel that we love her in our own unique way as individuals distinct from the group and have our own ‘love story’ with her, we believe we all have a unique special bond with her. Logically we know we are just a stranger but emotionally I guess deep down we crave that love being reciprocated as an individual. We don’t just want to be loved as a collective, we want to be special to her, we want to let her know how much we love her and have her listen to our thoughts/feelings and essentially feel like her friend and for us to tell us personally she loves and appreciates us back or to praise or validate our displays of love in some way.

Without meaning to we can often put her on a pedestal. She is our perfect idol, queen of whatever safe haven we’ve created in ‘her magical world’ we escape to. We love and defend her. In some cases it almost becomes like borderline worship. We would do anything for her or anything to feel close to her no matter how humiliating or whatever the cost, because it’s for her she is our everything and no one could understand your love, they just don’t get it. Who cares if you look crazy, love is crazy right? We obsessively learn facts about her as a way to feel closer. Or save up for ages just to buy objects she sells or pay to be in her presence for an hour or two. Those who get to meet her report back to the group details which would be viewed as incredibly creepy outside the context of fan/celebrity, like what does she smell like, how long you remember her holding your hand for in seconds, the instant you saw her you fell on the floor overcome with emotion and ugly cried, despite this being your first time ever meeting her, so you are again likely a literal stranger to her, you profess your love and proceed to tell her your deepest darkest and most intimate thoughts, feelings, life traumas and secrets and want her to be completely chill and loving and instantly say something beautiful and profound in response to treasure forever. The group fawn over you when you return, you become a chosen one, the chosen elite are specially selected and invited to her home (the HIGHEST honour) where she shares her work with you before anyone, you then have a secret to keep because she trusts you and loves you.

Human beings cannot form deep intimate friendships with over a million people. It’s just not possible. She will never be our friend friend, but the closest thing we have is her momentarily acknowledging our existence. We know this and so it becomes a competition for her attention. This kind of one sided love and weird relationship dynamic, allows us to more easily tap into the darker sometimes more destructive sides of love; obsession, jealousy, rage, neediness, possessiveness. I’m not saying this to make fun of anyone (trust me, I have humiliated myself in ways as fangirl especially as a teen that continue to haunt me to this day), I just wanted to give you a very literal description of our relationship with her so you’ll understand my point that our relationship is unnatural.

We would say we love Taylor like a friend, but when you’re a fan you don’t really. Not because you don’t know enough about her or she doesn’t talk to you enough but for the very nature of what I explained above, she may mean something to us but to her we are literally strangers. Besides, imagine a good friend of yours right now, imagine doing everything you do for Taylor for your friend. Put pictures of them all over your bedroom wall, frame a tissue they touched, make web pages dedicated to them, wearing clothing with their face on it. Yeah, there’s a high chance they’d get a restraining order against you.

From Taylor’s perspective it must be incredibly strange. She’s said she often feels like she’s in a fish bowl. Well what we essentially do is all smoosh our faces against the glass and repeatedly tap it to get the attention of the pretty fish (Taylor). Every time it comes out of the little castle in the bowl, the frenzy begins. Could you imagine what it must feel like to be her? All that attention? All those people pinning all their expectations hopes and dreams on you. Thousands of people making you their sanctuary and safety comforter so if you did something to loose them their worlds would come crashing down. That’s an insane amount of pressure. It must be genuinely terrifying. 

Taylor said she struggles with wanting to keep everybody happy and giving too much of herself to do so, she’s a perfectionist and hates letting people down or she beats herself up about it. I know she loves what she does, but at the same time it must be so exhausting and really drain you. She must read lots of really happy & silly posts, but then some might be people sharing really emotional things about a very difficult and dark time they’re going through, though we mean well when we share it, it must be really hard knowing that you can’t help them. I don’t even want to imagine the vile hate that she reads, because imagine how one hate comment makes us feel but she gets hundreds and sometimes it’s on magazines at the store so it follows her everywhere. She can’t even go outside to do regular human things without the risk of getting mobbed or just knowing everyone’s staring at her and watching her every move. Look how we all hate being trapped at home because everywhere we go outside is dangerous due to COVID-19. It’s a huge amount to take in and process emotionally.

Sometimes I think she research’s people before she meets them, not just because she cares, but for her own sanity and to make it less strange. So the interaction can be more normal. She seems to really like reading people just talking about their ordinary life, day to day things because her life is far from normal. But she meets us like a conveyer belt, people that she makes a connection with and then they get taken away and she’ll never get to meet them again. When she wants to see someone again, people get upset because why aren’t they getting a chance to get picked or that person had already met her, but they don’t think about how Taylor feels because maybe she likes that person and wants to talk to them again. We think her life is incredibly privileged and yes she’s incredibly smart and knows how to handle her career but in reality in a lot of ways it must be so maddening, sad and lonely because human beings were not designed to live this way. “And they tell you that you’re lucky but you’re so confused, ‘cause you don’t feel pretty you just feel used.”

It’s okay to be a fan of someone or look up to them or connect and find meaning with them and their work. As long as it’s done in a healthy way. We need to really work on that or we’re really going to hurt her more than we have. For Taylor to live the life she does, you have to develop really thick skin or turn to things to just numb everything, I see how celebrities end up with addiction problems or suddenly acting out because they can’t cope anymore. You have to learn to shut it out to survive. We made her our comfort blanket that we’d find it hard to live without. So we want her to behave in a way that we approve, not just because we want her to be her best self but also because we struggle to think how we’d cope without her. But we have to remember she’s human just like us. She’s going to make mistakes, not always be her best self, have bad days. Just because she might have more money or more people that know her doesn’t make her magically stop being human. She goes through life like everyone else. It’s healthy to give her constructive criticism but we have to watch the tone in which we say things. I’m not saying we baby her but we have to remember unnatural dynamic we have. It’s not just a few posts, it ends up being thunderously loud because it’s thousands or more than a million people saying the same thing. Social media makes you forget you’re talking to a human being because you can’t see their face or their reaction to how your words are impacting them. Sometimes you can’t shut it out and to her it must feel like a million people are suddenly very angry or disappointed with you and are going to take their love away. Because I guess in a way she becomes attached to us also. You don’t stop caring no matter what people say, you’re human. Remember how it feels when one person you love is disappointed or angry with you. Now amplify that. Mentally that’s...wow. I feel so so bad for her because I honestly don’t know how she copes and does this so well. This could all really send someone over the edge and we’ve seen it happen. We’ve gotten a tiny glimpse into how badly it can affect her. I’m glad she has an amazing family, Joe and true friends who are there for her but God only how she copes behind closed doors.

This fandom sometimes reaches an ugly level of entitlement because the truth is she has spoiled us. We expect things that we shouldn’t expect because she gives us more attention and puts more effort into making all of us feel special than we deserve. I can’t believe after everything she’s ever done, people would think it was all a lie. Mess up one time and everything you did was fake? People who are fake mess up, especially when things aren’t going their way or to plan and they snap and reveal what they’re really like. She’s been through so many trials time and time again and proven her character. Come on, we know who she is. Like all humans she might not be perfect but she is truly good person and she has a good heart and a pure beautiful soul. She’d have to be an insanely good actress and dedicate a huge amount of time to planning all of these lies. You guys have met her, you’ve seen how good she is at connecting with people instantly. She’s warm and loving and even the cats love her as much as she loves them. For someone who has so much money, she seems to enjoy the simple things in life the most and making everyone happy and she’s so humble. I think a lot of that is also in part to the people around her who keep her grounded. 

Anyhow, that black and white thinking of you are either all good or you’re all bad, is so immature and dangerous, because people are more complicated than that because we’re not simply one thing. Which one of us is a perfect person that has never made a mistake or let people down? Ever made a resolution that you stuck to or you needed more time to work on, or were just unsure how to begin or feel overwhelmed? Exactly. I know a lot of us came from a place of love, we don’t hate her at all we just wanted her to do better. And we’ve come up with all kinds of conspiracies of why she doesn’t want to post more because we feel that this doesn’t match the Taylor that we know in our hearts that she is. 

We need to stop judging and shaming each other. Virtue signalling for the sake of looking woke and outrage culture needs to end because it honestly does more harm than good. I’ve seen it become like dangerous mob behaviour and people get hurt. We all learn at our own pace and handle things in our own way and prefer helping in our own preferred ways. Don’t always assume the worst about people. Like I said, social media isn’t the be all and end of everything. Just because you don’t post about it doesn’t mean you don’t care. You could be doing lots of things offline to help that could be really impactful. Often times these can have huge meaningful long term impact, because we literally don’t live inside the internet. Humans connecting with each other in the real world as nature intended us to be is actually super important. I think a lot of problems could be resolved by people logging off the internet and talking to each other in person; people say things behind a screen that they wouldn’t in real life or may regret because it’s easier to not access empathy and not view the person you’re talking to as human this way. It’s good to take your own time to properly think about things before you just open your mouth. Besides everyone starts somewhere. 

There’s lots of really graphic stuff online at the moment and even I had to take a break. Someone not being black doesn’t mean they don’t need to care for their mental health or don’t get affected. The virus has been really hard on a lot of us in many ways, it can infect anyone and honestly all the panic and doom and uncertainty starts to really get to you after a while and sometime’s you just have to disconnect. Her mother is very vulnerable and Taylor is a human with feelings. You have to fill up your own cup before you can pour into other people’s. We need to be kinder to each other, you never know what someone is going through or what their circumstances are. It might not always be safe for someone to speak out publicly, it’s often more complicated than we think. We know white supremacist groups have made Taylor a focus before, maybe her recent activity could make her a target and put her in a lot danger. I pray not and that she and everyone she loves is safe. 

We have to remember to try and have empathy for her and not look at her as just Taylor with the huge fan base, but Taylor the human being. We all have our flaws. Her mother is really gravely ill. I know lots of you will be like so? that’s not an excuse. But I think we all need to examine who we’ve allowed ourselves to become because that’s such a gross attitude and we’re not being fair with her. Her mum is her best friend and the most important person who comforts her and is her source of security and stability. She means so much to her, she’s her mum. We too should care about her mum because she’s been such an angel to us as fans and is a pure bright light in this world. Remember soon you’ll get better? That broke my heart. God only knows how Taylor is coping with all of that, the scrutiny of fame, the pandemic and whatever threats she could have received. If you’ve ever had someone you love go through something like this, you know how hard it can be, how helpless you can feel and how your head might not always be in the right space. Every second with them is precious because things genuinely change in an instant and you could suddenly lose them. Imagine your own darkest moment. Maybe given her circumstances that’s the best she can do right now. It’s not our place to judge her. 

Why can’t she get her team to simply post for her? I imagine she’d rather do it and select things herself given the sensitive important nature of this cause (it’s not like merch promo) or else we’d then start to question everything else. She would make headlines for anything she did. It would draw attention to her and could put her family in more danger. Remember how her dad was so afraid for her? Well I don’t think any added stress is what her family needs with her sick mother in the midst of a global pandemic. When does Taylor get a break from everyone and just get a second to look after herself? We can wish but we cannot demand that she come and explain to console us. We are not her responsibility. 

I’ve noticed she’s been different the past few months. She doesn’t look like herself in the pictures she’s posted, she just looks blank and this whole situation has felt very off and I’ve really worried something was wrong. Watching that class 2020 video Idk you might think I’m crazy but it genuinely sounded like she was holding in tears and she looked sad. Like she was somewhere else when she was talking but forcing herself to look happy. Just because she may look like she’s holding it together doesn’t mean she actually is. My heart is broken for her and I pray for her and her loved ones. Go back and watch it yourself. 

We all need to really reflect and deeply think about how our actions can affect others and take a long hard look at the people we have become and ask ourselves if this is who we really want to be, myself included. You can still have your own feelings and opinions on this situation but I really hope this helps you see a new perspective. We have to remember there are multiple injustices and hardships going on all over the world at once. We need to check our pride and our egos and humble ourselves. Be less judgmental and more empathetic. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. 

Taylor if you’re reading this (I know the chances are teensy), I’m genuinely so sorry. I hope you and your loved ones are safe and well. I love you so so much and I’ll keep you and your family in my prayers 💖

This is a long one: having read all of the sympathetic and convincing Sidney Parker posts here, I am wonder if you’re letting Sidney off a little too easily? It seems to me that no matter how much he may want to find love (as has been so eloquently argued here), he has not yet learned true selfless love imo. His half proposal is a point in case. Consider the comparison with Babbers.

Sidney: “What a brute I was… I hope that I am a different man now… If I have changed at all it is in no small part to you. I have never wanted to put myself in someone else’s power before. I have never wanted to care for anyone but myself.”Lord B: “My dear girl don’t you know that I am in love with you… It’s enough that you like me and that you trust me…I have no wish to own you…i want to make you happy. I could never try to lead or constrain you, Esther. All I ask is to walk through life by you

I know he was just getting warmed up, but Sidney’s expression of love is still very firmly about his own development and his own realisation, while Babs’s expression of love is very much about what he hopes to give, and what it means to love. Sidney’s growth arc is incomplete and he still hasn’t fully earned Charlotte, whom Rose Williams has made so generous, brave and loveable. You have already pointed out that this is the midway point in the story, and I completely agree.

But I would love to hear your thoughts on how this circle can be squared: Are we supposed to think that Sidney has done something noble by pimping himself out to Eliza Campion for the sake of his feckless brother and disappointing and destroying his own happiness and, more importantly by JA rules, that of a young inexperienced woman whom he has publicly shouted at, exposed himself to, felt up, kissed, and half proposed to?

Andrew Davies has put Sidney in a hell of a bind: If he breaks it off with Eliza now, he’s a dishonourable cad. If Eliza breaks it off with him, Charlotte looks like second prize to his first great love in the world’s eyes. If he marries Eliza and she dies and he runs back to Charlotte, how can we expect Char to enter that “river” again?

The only comparable situation in JA is Elinor Dashwood and Edward Ferrars, and Edward’s honour was completely intact throughout: his secret engagement occurred when he was young and naïve; he retreated from Elinor once he realised he loved her before more damage was done; he stuck by the loathsome Miss Steele once their engagement was public despite wanting Elinor; Miss Steele throws him over for his brother making clear that she was only ever interested in money and feelings were not at stake.

By contrast, Sidney has broken the heart of an intelligent and worthy young woman for a venal and loveless marriage, though the cynical “bargain” seems to be that he try to love Eliza. Ugh. Badly done, Sidney! How can we redeem Sidney to the point of making him worthy of St. Charlotte? How can he be extricated from this mess without losing his honour and without making Charlotte suffer any further?I would love to see Charlotte released from the passivity she has been forced into here.

She has been robbed of any agency after being established as an active character – a toiler and a spinner. Perhaps she will concoct a way to save Sidney’s soul behind the scenes, showing him in the process what true selfless love looks and feels like. I have a weird feeling that in one episode someone said something like “Men need to be helped without ever knowing they’re being helped…” or something similar. That’s coming back to me now – maybe that’s the only direction this can take:

Charlotte orchestrates Sidney’s rescue with the help of Lady S and the Prince Regent and then retreats back to Heraclitus and rabbit hunting in Willingden, where Sidney comes to find her. After a spot of grovelling and sexy scything in the fields to show that he is not just a dandy city boy but a man of substance, he will win back our Charlotte. Whew! sorry forth long one, had to get it off my chest. Now, about that GOT ending…

Hey there!

Whew … that was INTENSE! Lol … I hope you really meant it when you said you wanted my thoughts on this take because you’re going to get them and …. I don’t think you’re going to like them.

So here goes nothing … I’m going to break this down into topics because your messages covers a lot of ground.

Firstly, the issue of selfless love:

When I was much, much, MUCH younger that I am now, I watched a little movie called Love Story (1970). This film was essentially The Notebook of my mother’s generation. And the most famous line in that film is:

Jenny: Love means never having to say you're sorry

The main female character is standing in the freezing cold with no way to enter her apartment because her husband got pissed off at her and bolted. And that’s what comes out of her mouth … Because love is selfless, right? You don’t need to apologize for anything EVER because love means never having to say you’re sorry.

Let me tell you something: THAT IS COMPLETE AND UTTER BULLSHIT! Anyone who believes romantic love should be selfless needs to reevaluate. The belief in selfless romantic love will not help anyone find that kind of love (because it doesn’t exist). What it will do is that it will allow that person to be prayed on by fuck bois/fuck girls everywhere because you are going to continually excuse their behavior … because you have to love them unconditionally, right? WRONG!

Selfless love is acceptable only in a parent-child dynamic. That’s it! As Cersei would put it:

Cersei: On that front, a mother has no choice

Romantic love is very much conditional on treatment, involvement and attraction. When it isn’t, that’s fertile ground for abuse.

You think this is romantic?

Babington: My dear girl, don’t you know that I am in love with you?

Esther: And what is that to me since I do not love you?

Babington: I don’t care. It’s enough that you like me and that you trust me.

What happens six months down the line when Babs catches Esther having sex with Edward in their marital bed? Do you think he’s still not going to care she doesn’t love him back? What Babington is doing in his proposal is lying to himself. No person who has ever been in love ever genuinely does not care if the object of his affection loves him back. We all want to be loved back. We pretend we don’t because we’re so desperate to have that person that we think we’re able to live without it or, most likely, because we think we can talk them round into loving us.

To be clear, I don’t think Esther will cheat on Babington with Edward. But you can bet your bottom dollar Edward will be coming back into her life in season 2 and that she won’t be over him. Guess who will get his heart put through the ringer?

Sidney’s proposal, on the other hand, is very much how an adult should suggest a lifelong commitment to another adult.

Sidney: If I have changed at all, it’s in no small part down to you. I have never wanted to put myself in someone else’s power before. I’ve never wanted to care for anyone but myself.

In his speech what Sidney is laying out is the following: I am well aware I have issues and that we’ve clashed around those issues time and time again. I am committing myself to fixing them because you make me want to do better. I have trust issues but you make me want to hand you my heart because I know you won’t hurt me. I want to share my life with you and make your needs a priority in my life because you make me less selfish.

I’m sorry … but I’ll take Sidney’s proposal over Babington’s any day of the week because Sidney has a plan for our future (lol) while Babington knows I don’t love him but he is so blinded by infatuation that he can’t see he’s promising something he can’t deliver on … and most crucially no one should deliver on.  

Sidney’s growth arc is incomplete and he still hasn’t fully earned Charlotte, whom Rose Williams has made so generous, brave and loveable.

I agree that Sidney’s arc is incomplete but so is Charlotte’s. She’s not fully come into her own either and this isn’t a matter of one character being flawless while the other has to work his way to her perfection.

Sidney doesn’t need to earn Charlotte because Charlotte is not a possession, she’s a person and Sidney is not some lecherous monster that needs to go through the 7 circles of hell in order to “earn” anything. Sidney and Charlotte are two people that have had some conflicts but nothing truly disastrous (until Sidney proposes to Eliza, that is) and in which they both have had their share of blame. It’s not like Sidney has been the sole aggressor in all of this. Charlotte has insulted him and mocked him in an assortment of ways.

In the end they have chosen to put those differences aside and have come together with a new understanding of who the other person is. They’ve chosen to love each other and accept each other’s flaws. There is no discrepancy in worth between the two of them that needs to be addressed by Sidney.

What should happen in a potential season 2 is that he will need to rebuild Charlotte’s trust after breaking it with his engagement to Eliza. But that discussion is separate since his initial proposal comes before the Tom Parker realizes he doesn’t have insurance debacle.

Are we supposed to think that Sidney has done something noble by pimping himself out to Eliza Campion for the sake of his feckless brother and disappointing and destroying his own happiness and, more importantly by JA rules, that of a young inexperienced woman whom he has publicly shouted at, exposed himself to, felt up, kissed, and half proposed to?

I think what we’re supposed to take from Sidney’s decision to sacrifice his happiness to help his brother is that his “outlier” facade was just that … a façade. Beneath all that is a man who is willing to go to extremes for the people he cares about. I also think that it shows Sidney, despite his outward confidence, doesn’t really love himself that much.

You’re making the mistake of assuming Sidney’s decision to marry Eliza is a rejection of Charlotte. I wouldn’t blame Charlotte for thinking it but we have a 360 view of the story that she doesn’t have the luxury of having.

We know Sidney loves her. We know he is heartbroken at having to let her go. But he doesn’t want his brother to go to jail and he has only 1 week to figure out a way out of the hole Tom has dug himself into. I’m pretty sure Eliza was the last option on the list of things Sidney tried to do in order to help his brother.

As for your implication that Sidney somehow dishonored Charlotte, it’s pretty obvious from the tone of the show that the whole “there always has to be a chaperone” and “no kissing before marriage” etc. are not rules they are choosing to include in their version of the regency. Charlotte leaves Sanditon with her reputation intact. It is her heart that is broken and I’d be willing to bet that in Sidney’s mind, he has already convinced himself that she will recover very quickly while he will be in pain for the rest of his life. Because … as I’ve said … he doesn’t love himself enough to realize just how much Charlotte loves him.

If he breaks it off with Eliza now, he’s a dishonourable cad. If Eliza breaks it off with him, Charlotte looks like second prize to his first great love in the world’s eyes. If he marries Eliza and she dies and he runs back to Charlotte, how can we expect Char to enter that “river” again? The only comparable situation in JA is Elinor Dashwood and Edward Ferrars, and Edward’s honour was completely intact throughout

I’m not sure what your point is here? For starters, who cares what “the world” thinks? Charlotte will know that Sidney loves her and only her and that his engagement with Eliza was an act of desperation on his part. And so will we, the viewers, because and I quote:

Sidney: I don’t love her, you know.

Charlotte and Sidney’s situation is exactly the same as Eleanor and Edward’s, with the exception that Sidney didn’t flirt with Charlotte and almost proposed to her while being engaged to someone else the way Edward does.

And if we are going to take “the world’s” opinion into account, I’m pretty sure people very much speculated that Edward was nursing a broken heart over the woman for whom he risked everything, was disinherited and that abandoned him to marry his brother. After all why else would he retreat to the countryside and marry the almost old maid with no fortune, Eleanor Dashwood? See how you can spin anything into something negative if you want to?

How can we redeem Sidney to the point of making him worthy of St. Charlotte?

Sigh … Sidney has always been worthy of Charlotte. He is a good man ... with great AAAABBBSSSS. And while Charlotte getting her heart broken is deeply sad, I think it’s safe to say it’s Sidney that has gotten the truly shitty end of the stick. He has tied himself to a woman whom he does not love and who treats him like he’s her dog.

I don’t think people realize just how hopeless his situation is. It’s not like if he marries Eliza, he can get a divorce a few years down the line. He is stuck with the woman who betrayed him 10 years ago for the rest of his life. And he’s in this situation not even because of his own venal desires or greed. He’s in it to save his brother … a brother that will probably ruin himself regardless. That kind of thing eats at a person.

Charlotte’s state, on the other hand, is not permanent. I’m not trying to minimize her pain. Heartbreak is horrible and deeply traumatizing. But as everyone who has gone through it can tell you, it eventually goes away. You recover, you move on.

I don’t think she will need to go through the entire letting go process because she and Sidney will be reunited and everything will work out for the best but if she had to, she would go through it and come out the other side even stronger than she is now.

I would love to see Charlotte released from the passivity she has been forced into here. She has been robbed of any agency after being established as an active character – a toiler and a spinner. Perhaps she will concoct a way to save Sidney’s soul behind the scenes, showing him in the process what true selfless love looks and feels like.

See … this is confusing to me. On the one hand you think Sidney isn’t worthy of Charlotte, on the other you want her to save him. I would suggest it’s not Charlotte’s job to extract Sidney from the shitty situation he’s in. He has to do that for himself.

As for Charlotte being robbed of agency … what’s that even based on? What was she supposed to do in that situation? It’s not like there’s 80.000 pounds hidden under the Heywood family tree that Lassie can dig up …

After a spot of grovelling and sexy scything in the fields to show that he is not just a dandy city boy but a man of substance, he will win back our Charlotte

And this is the part where you truly lost me … As a born and bred city girl, with a generational line of city dwellers dating back centuries, I will have you know I have SUBSTANCE, ok?!?! I have many, many substances … I’m oh so substantiated and stuff.

All joking aside, why does Sidney need to prove that he is a man of substance? What the hell has he done to make anyone assume he isn’t?

I guess in the end our conflicting views come from our perceptions of Sidney as a person. I don’t think Sidney is a bad boy that needs to be redeemed through his love for Charlotte. I think he has always been a good man who is trying to do his best for those around him, who has had to deal with some pretty shitty situations in his life and who is involved in at least one toxic relationship (with his brother). In addition to that, he has a self-destructive streak (people who get dumped don’t necessarily react to it by setting fire to their whole lives and almost dying in the process) which makes it easy for him to prioritize Tom’s well-fare over his own life.

The reason why he falls so deeply in love with Charlotte is because she offers him a real chance of breaking out of those patterns and being able to be seen and loved for who he is. The problem is that toxic past relationships are still very much encroaching on his ability to move on with his life in a healthy way.

In order to break free, what Sidney needs isn’t to be saved. What he needs is to put a stop to the negative patterns that exist at the core of his relationship with Tom (and Mary by extension) and to put the whole Eliza relationship to rest.  

Zagreus vs The Mortal Coil

Lmao okay so let me explain! So maybe five or so months ago I got really into the game Hades, and I did that thing I do where I immediately create like five thousand OCs and a new plotline for it because I love it so much. This is an idea that spawned from my thoughts on what shenanigans might find Zagreus once he starts exploring more of the surface in the time he has there. I also wanted to explore how he might interact with mortals, and what he thinks of them considering he’s only got what others tell him to go on. I decided a baby would be an interesting dynamic for him, and an opportunity for him to grow further beyond what the events of the game allow. Still debating whether to write the baby as a reader insert or a character of my own? Also I wanted to test out writing using 1st person so consider this an experiment. Next part will be from Zag’s PoV again, but I think I’ll write from the human’s PoV once I age them up a little more.

So with all that said, I just wanted to go ahead and tag @heckpuppyy because we’ve been talking recently and I like you. This isn’t quite the Aconite piece I have planned for you, but it is Hades so I hoped that you would still enjoy it! Happy reading everybody!

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Suppose this whole situation may be entirely my fault.

It’d been a good while since I last died on an attempt. Long enough that I started to get bored. Making it to the surface had become commonplace for me, and so I began exploring for the brief time I’m able to exist up there. I’d just pick a direction and walk. Which is how I stumbled into this. Perhaps father was right when he said my casual curiosity would get the better of me someday. I always sort of agreed with him; though I never expected something like this. Then again, who but the Fates would?

Mortal behaviour has always been strange, at least to me. Or foreign, I guess. Talking to willing Shades and reading stories of them does little to help expand my understanding. Still, as I think most Gods are, I can’t help but to be intrigued by them. There’s almost a bizarre beauty in their existence, short though it may be. Yet there are also things about them that confuse me to bitterness. Things that strike too close to my father’s behaviour for my liking. Such as, for instance, leaving children out in the mountains to succumb to Demeter’s Winter.

I really hadn’t been walking long before I heard the cries. At first, I thought it might have been an animal in pain. Though I’d heard as many instances of that as I had human infants crying, at the time. It was very odd, this immediate tug in my chest at the noise. Mother later called it “maternal instinct”, though I’m fairly sure that term only applies to mothers. Nevertheless, that feeling was what led me to the clearing in which the squalling creature lay. For a moment, I’ll admit, I was stupefied. Why would a mortal so helpless be so far out here? I thought to myself. And where are its caretakers? Surely it didn’t transport its self all the way up here from the human village. It took a particularly loud hiccupping cry from the child to snap me out of my frozen state, and I found my legs working of their own accord to move the rest of me closer to the small lump of cloth and reddened, tear-stained cheeks. It stared back up at me when I leaned over it, its next wail caught in its throat momentarily at the sight of me. I worry for a moment that I might be scaring it, before my chest tightens in a strange emotion when it whimpers pitifully and reaches out to me. Its chubby little fingers make grabbing motions, and the muscles in my arms flex with the temptation to pick it up. A searching glance around confirmed that no other humans were around, which meant it would be up to me to guide this infant to whatever fate had been written for it.

Perhaps that was too prideful of me? After all, had I thought a bit more thoroughly, I may have reminded myself of my considerable lack of child-rearing experience. This is addition to the predicament of surface dwellers being unable to survive in the Underworld, and me being unable to live on the surface for more than an hour or so.

Alas, thanks to my haste in accepting the self-ascribed responsibility, I gave only just enough thought to this fact to move the child to a small hollow near the doors to father’s realm. It had belonged to an animal at some point, but now laid barren and slightly unkempt. I had just enough time to check it the unpleasant eight-legged surface creatures I’ve heard tell of being poisonous, and to stash my new ward away safely from the elements, before the Styx took me back home. It was only upon emerging from the Pool that it struck me the weight of my decision. A baby. A human baby. One that would have simply died had I not intervened. One that now requires me to fight my way back up to ensure it’s survival. One that will need food and shelter and attention. One that… Now belongs to me.

 “Blood and darkness!” Stygius slips slightly from my grip as it catches inside the Wretched Lout I just impaled. I readjust my hold and heave it out of the sickly yellow flesh, waving it slightly to flick some of the congealing black blood from it. I have no time to stop this run. I’ve boxed myself into such a situation I barely had time to check in with everybody before leaving. I neglected to share my secret just yet, both for a loss as to how exactly to do so, as well as the worry that they would try to talk me out of it. Forgetting this whole thing seems the logical thing to do, and part of me wishes I would. And yet there is another part, small but overwhelming, that screams You must hurry. You must return to it. You must protect it! And it would seem to be the part that’s winning.

The sound of a Boon echoes through the small chamber, though when I look to it, it’s one I’ve never seen before. A deeper blue than from Poseidon, with some kind of feather symbol. When I reach out to it, the sound of a baby’s laughter reverberates through my entire body it seems. “In the name of Hades, uhh… Hello?” The glowing orb expands and bursts in a cloud of feathers to reveal the visage of a beautiful woman. She dons the same colour of chiton as her blessing, with rich green and gold patterning. Her green eyes remind me of mother and Demeter. Mother… “Lady Hera. It’s… An honour.” The stoic looking woman extends her hand without speaking, three blue feathers appearing in front of me. These are different from the regular gifts I receive. It weighs on my mind that my decision will factor heavily into my care for the infant. Hera is the Goddess of childbirth and motherhood, now may be my opportunity to get the best advice possible. It does occur to me that she doesn’t seem the most talkative. But I don’t have much choice, I need to get the most out of this encounter, considering how out of my element caring for another being is. “Lady Hera, I apologise for my boldness, but I must beseech your assistance in the matter of- “

“I sense your predicament, young Prince. I ask you not request more of me than I volunteer, though I can say I am here to help. For now, choose a gift to help you with your ward, and be on your way.” Seems that would be our conversation over. I straighten my stance and properly look over the feathers, now adorned with golden etching in the shape of familiar yet foreign words. “Mother’s Intuition” “Fruits of Labor” “Calming Touch” All seem useful, but if Hera is truly planning to stick around to help me, I suppose my decision now doesn’t hold as much weight as my initial assumption. “Calming Touch” seems it would be the most useful to me as of now. As my fingers brush the barbs of the feather, the “eye” blinks at me, and the other two disappear in small clouds of bubbles. More childlike laughter sounds from them as they pop, and that feeling is back in my chest as I clutch the feather to my chest. The illusion of Hera nods her approval before it too dissipates in a bright flash that has me blinking away the spots in my vision as I stumble toward the next door. I fasten the feather to my tunic and continue on.

 Tartarus passes in a whirlwind, my haste extending to Stygius, as if the infernal blade can sense the situation. Soon the river Phlegethon bubbles and hisses around me, the sulfur stinging my eyes. I leap over a steaming break in the land and carry the momentum through another Slamdancer. More Bloodless spawn behind me and I can only muster a sigh in response. Seems this repetition is starting to wear on my mind. Or perhaps it’s my impatience. Whatever it is, it continues to plague my mind with chilling images of the little creature I have stashed away, the hovel barely big enough to fit it. The idea of what might happen should I delay spurs me forward, not even paying attention to the Boon I accept. The orange-y glow makes me think Hermes, until a deep, rough voice booms above me. Acting on impulse I flinch back and bring Stygius in front of me. The man peering down at me with one eye under his brow scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. Feeling only a little silly, I clear my throat and lower the blade. “Apologies, Lord. I’m distracted by the heat of this place; I meant no offense.” This seems enough for the God and the jaded look to his eyes falls away to leave a particular type of exhaustion. He nods in understanding and lifts a large hand towards me. I notice something clenched in his scarred grip, and when his fingers uncurl to reveal parchment not unlike the House Contractor’s, with similar projects marked on it, a realization dawns on me. I take the paper, my eyes drawn to the blueprint labelled “Sturdy Cottage”. It seems my fears for the infant’s safety are unnecessary, seeing as I happen to have the four diamonds needed to purchase the construct. “I think this will be of much use, Lord Hephaestus. I greatly appreciate your generous assistance.” The God seems mildly taken aback by my thanks but retrieves the ledger and diamonds with a nod at my decision. Sparks fly as Hephaestus leaves, hopefully straight for the surface to begin building the cottage. It feels as if a deep shadow has been cleared from my mind, and my thoughts of the mortal are considerably lighter than before.

 Elysium provides, as always, the most resistance to my journey up. The Exalted are ferocious in their desperation for battle, charging at me with no hesitation upon spawning. I’ve already taken several hits from those blasted Flamewheels by the time I reach the next chamber with something new. At first, I fretfully believe it to be a Trial of the Gods, but upon a closer look, it seems to be a joint blessing of some kind. I recognize the wheat symbol for a Boon of Demeter, but it overlaps a peacock feather. Are the Goddesses aware of this? I hesitantly accept, and the orb expands as any other. In an icy flash filled with children’s laughter, the likenesses two Goddesses stand before me. Demeter smiles down at me, and I might be tempted to call it warm. Whereas Hera stands tall and proud as she did on our first meeting. “Zagreus, I believe you’ve already met my sister. She’s come to me with an interesting proposition; one I believe you should be made privy to.” Demeter summons a true stalk of wheat, golden and shining, and allows me to take it. I twist the stalk between my fingers, watching the little barbs blur together as they spin. “Bury this where you wish. The snow and ice will melt from that place, and your child will be safe from the elements. I know not why you would waste pity on such a creature, but perhaps it will be of future use to you. Good luck, grandson.” I hold the wheat tightly to me as they leave, my heart pounding at the idea of bending the very rules Demeter herself has put in place for this one mortal infant. A very small part of my mind wonders if this is even worth it, but like all my doubts, it gets swept away at the prospect of knowing this creature will be safe. I pin the wheat next to the feather and wonder what my next gift may be as the door clunks shut behind me.

 I’ve almost made it. Just need to get past father and I can get to work. He’s not making it easy, though he never does, and it’s especially frustrating this time. I almost lose my footing on the snow as I dodge another swing. Father scoffs and begins powering up for his stupid laser move. I thank the stone stump for the umpteenth time as I crouch behind it. On the bright side, father only needs a few more hits before the Styx overwhelms him. “You seem especially antsy this attempt, boy. What mischief are you plotting? What could possibly be so important up here?”

“Far be it for me to allow you to ruin my fun, father.” I smirk as Stygius makes contact and slices a deep black gash under the Underworld Lord’s second rib. Father grunts and smacks me away with the blunt end of his spear. The throb is dull and adds no more stress to my body. This may be one of our best fights, on my end anyway. “Come now father, surely you have more important paperwork than this?” I pause to charge up another Bloodstone, distantly registering the hiss of the disturbed snow under my feet. “Watch that tongue of yours, boy. You’ll still have to deal with the consequences when you inevitably return to my House!” My cast lands a hit square on his chest as he finishes his threat, and he falls to his knee. “Until then, father.” I’m not sure if he heard me over the rush of the Styx, but my hope that he did is tinged in bitterness. Turning away, I hurry to collect my Bloodstones and cross the threshold into Greece.

 The mountain seems to be caught in a storm of some kind. The cruel winds howl and whistle past my ears, the sheets of snow all but completely ELEPHANT my vision. I hurry along the treeline, thankful the entrance hollow is facing the direction the wind is blowing. I wonder if Demeter chose this direction intentionally, or if she may have been attempting to wipe out the infant before I had the chance to truly commit to my task. I decide she isn’t that heartless, not now anyway, and kneel beside the hollow. The crying of the infant is still going strong, so I at least can be sure it’s alive. I adjust my tunic so that I can tuck the child close to my body and reach to scoop it up. As I hold it close, my eye catches on the glint of silver around its neck. A chain, specifically one of a necklace. The charm is familiar, but I can’t quite place its origin. A sphere overlapped at each side by two crescent moon shapes. Whatever it is, I’m fairly sure it has something to do with father. Why else would the infant be left so close to his realm? The mortal whimpers quietly, curling in on itself. I need to get it out of this storm. My fingers wrap around the wheat as I stand. Surely Hephaestus would have built the cottage close by, for his own convenience at the very least. I decide to move back closer to the doors, so I can at least avoid the worst of the storm. I must hurry if I’m to find the cottage before my time is up.

The trees seem to fall away off to the right, as the land dips toward a river that’s frozen over. Perhaps I can at least clear this spot for now with Demeter’s gift. The banks flatten out before rising high at the sides, shielding the small valley from the wind. If I look closely, I can see the water rushing underneath the ice layer. I’m just starting to reach for the wheat when I notice a dark shape looming from the opposite side of the river. The cottage! Well, less of a cottage and more of a large house. Praising Hephaestus, I stumble over the frozen river, eyeing the places where the ice sizzles. The hill proves easy to scale, even with the protesting infant at my breast, and the door to the building gives easily to my push, the wind whooshing through the doorway to paint the inner floor white. It’s considerably harder to fight the wind to get the door closed again, but once it is, I’m free to sit against it and bask in the slightly warmer temperature. Even my infantile ward seems more pleased with the new surroundings, though it still hiccups and whines unhappily at me. “Come now, surely a little gratitude’s been earned here?” The mortal cries in response and I can’t help the exasperated laugh that escapes me. Suppose it’s entitled to its opinion, considering the state it’s in. It spurs me to stand again, scanning the room for a place to rest the mortal until I get back. Hephaestus did quite the good job with the construct. Sturdy walls, a strong roof, and windows sealed shut with thick glass to keep out the chill. The room we’re in now is spacious, with an open doorway leading to what reminds me of the House kitchens, and an arched entrance with a step up to a section that might be a lounge? I can see other closed doors that I’ll have to explore later, but for now I move into the kitchen and readjust the infant’s swaddle so that it can lay comfortably. It watches me in what I think is curiosity, though it’s kind of hard to tell with the tears in its eyes. I need to figure out what it needs next. Food? Let’s go with food. What do humans eat? What do human babies eat? Perhaps Hera will have answers. The pull of the Styx is stronger now, and I know I don’t have much longer. I shouldn’t let it see this. I lean over the cocoon of snot and tears and cheeks. The cries quieten as two big brown eyes stare mournfully up at me. “Abahaa!” It babbles and tries to reach for me. I meet its little hand in-between us with a finger. It’s fingers barely wrap around mine. It’s an overwhelming feeling; how small this creature is. Small and helpless and fragile and mine. I carefully remove the infant’s hand and tuck it back in its wrappings so I can leave. I’m able to securely close the door behind me and take but a few steps forward before the Styx arrives. Crawling out of the river is getting easier with my new motivation.

“Don’t worry, little thing. I’ll be back soon.”

For the reddie fic request: hmmmm....What about...a/b/o reddie family fic where they have a little one named Georgie. (They named their kid in honour of Bill’s little brother, and even though Bill will deny it, he totally cried and became a stuttering mess. His wife Audra recorded it.) Bonus points if you can include : Benverly, and StanPat too. (Hope this request is okay.)

NOTE: As you can see I am obsessed with Friends. Thank you so much for this request. It was a lot of fun to write. 

Holding one another’s hands, despite that Richie’s were sweating from how nervous he was, Eddie and Richie waited, encouraging Chloe who groaned as she pushed hard. The doctors kept giving her instructions, never letting her give up. This was the moment. This was the day. They were going to be the parents of this child.

Finally, a wail echoed in the room, and the doctors held a baby in their arms immediately wrapping it into a blanket. “It’s a girl!”

Losing the ability to speak, Eddie pressed a hand against his beating chest as the doctors cleaned her up. She was so small. “She’s so beautiful,” Richie’s voice broke unable to keep his emotions together any longer. 

They couldn’t hold the baby yet, but Eddie bent down to the little girl. “Hi, there,” he said to her, his voice cracking. He felt Richie put a hand on his back. The baby was still trying to adjust to her new surroundings, hardly able to open her eyes. “I’m your Dad.” He pulled Richie closer to the scene who was still rendered speechless. “And this is your Daddy. We are going to love you so much!”

Hugging, the couple felt so lucky. “Chloe, thank you so much!” Richie put a hand on the young woman’s shoulder whose head flopped into her pillow. At first, when they met, Chloe was hesitant to give her baby to them. Somehow, Eddie’s name was smudged making it look like his name was Ellie. Eventually, Chloe came around, admiring their dynamic. “How do you feel?”

“Tired!” Chloe took a breath as sweat dripped off her face. “But, I am so happy for you guys! The baby is going to love you.”

“Well, you don’t have too much time to rest,” the doctor told her. “The other one will be along in a minute.”

Snapping their heads at the doctor, Eddie and Richie’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Excuse me?” Eddie was the first to ask seeing how Richie’s jaw fell to the floor.

The doctor looked at them as if they were insane. Even Chloe was surprised, staring at her abdomen which was still swollen. “The next baby. It should be along in another minute. You know it’s twins, right?” The doctor asked them, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are bug eyes and our mouths falling to floor look like the faces of two people in the know!” Richie exclaimed.

“Uh, you see, we only ordered one baby!” Oh, that felt so cruel to say. Then again, Eddie felt a different feeling that he never felt before.

Now the doctor was not sure what to do or make of the situation. Clearly, he needed to deliver the next baby. “I don’t understand, this has never happened before. We had that it was twins in the paperwork based off on your check-ups,” The doctor said to Chloe.

“Did you know that it was twins?” Richie asked Chloe who was still shocked at the news.

Chloe shook her head. “Well, during one check-up the doctor told me that both heartbeats were strong and I thought that meant mine was strong, too, which is good!” She took a beat to think. “Now that I think about it, twins actually run in my family.”

Richie made a ‘now you tell us’ face at her before feeling an arm pulling at him. Eddie took him to the side of the room so they could talk privately. 

“What are we going to do?” Richie asked, tugging at his hair, anxiously. 

“What do you mean?”

“Two babies, Eddie! TWO!” Richie indicated with his fingers. 

Eddie relaxed a hand on his husband’s shaking shoulder. “I know. Richie, you’re panicking.”

“Why am I the only one who’s freaking out about this? We were only expecting one baby!”

“Richie, we can’t just split them up! That would be wrong. What if the other one doesn’t go to a happy home. Or they have to go to an orphanage. Or live its life on the streets. Do you want that?”

Nodding in agreement, Richie put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him worriedly. “Eds, what if we’re not ready for two babies.”

Eddie touched his hand, looking into his husband’s eyes. “We have waited so long for this, Richie. I know you’re nervous, believe me, so am I. But, these are our children. I don’t care if it’s two, three or the entire cast of Full House that comes out of there!”

Richie wrinkled up his eyebrow. “You have really been watching too much TV.”

“Oh, shut up!” Eddie lightly whacked him. Growing serious again, they looked into each other’s eyes agreeing that this was for the best. Taking a deep breath, and giving one another a hug, they rejoined the scene where Chloe was just about ready to give birth to her second child. 

“It looks like we’re just about ready,” the doctor examined. “Start pushing again, Chloe.”

Chloe screamed out in pain, howling, as she pushed. Tears streamed from her eyes. Eddie went over and placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Following, Richie did the same until they heard another cry emitting through the room. 

“Here he comes!” The doctor announced. 

“He? It’s a boy?” Richie asked as the doctor nodded, holding the little baby in his arms. Turning to Eddie, the two shared a kiss. “Now we have one of each!”

“And that’s enough!” Eddie put his hand out, his eyes growing big.

“I thought you said...”

“Forget about what I said!”

                                                               ---

Unable to contain their excitement, the Losers waited for Richie and Eddie to return home. The moment Chloe felt that her babies were on the way, everyone was scrambling about, almost falling over chairs.

Stan feverishly inspected Eddie and Richie’s house. “Okay, they really need to have one of those baby gates on this side of the stairs!” He was only looking out for his friends. That was Stan. That’s what he did. Patty tried to calm him down, eventually getting him to sit down with the other Losers who were all sitting by the window, taking up the couch. 

Mike placed a hand on Stan’s shoulder once he sat down. “Stan, it’s going to be okay.”

“I think Richie and Eddie have everything taken care of,” Bill said, holding Audra’s hand. Audra spent two hours talking with Eddie over the phone this week. Poor Eddie was so nervous wanting to make sure that they had all the supplies that were needed. 

“They’re going to make great parents,” Ben added, smoothing Beverly’s shoulder. “Once their kid is old enough then Lexi will have a playmate.”

Beverly smiled, kissing his nose. “That would be great.”

Just then, the front door opened. Everyone turned to see Eddie walk in with their daughter wrapped in a pink blanket. Smiling big, they all wrapped around Eddie looking at the new baby.

“She’s so beautiful!” Patty said. Audra took out her phone to capture the moment on film.

“Hey, guys!” That was when Richie walked in, holding their son in his arms. Grinning widely, he could not wait for everyone’s reactions. Some of the Losers turned, greeting him. All at once, the best double-take in history happened! Everyone’s eyes went wide when they saw the second baby.  

“Surprised?” Richie asked with the most gigantic smile.

Stan put a hand up, a lecture immediately coming to his mind. “Okay, just to clarify, the hospital knows that you took two babies home, right?”

Eddie laughed. “Yes! It turned out that Chloe was pregnant with two babies and she didn’t realize.”

“Wow! This is great!” Beverly congratulated them. 

“What are their names?” Mike asked, holding the baby that Eddie had in his arms.

“Well, this one is a girl,” Eddie indicated. “So, we decided to name her Chloe.”

Ben was just trying to hide the tears, but he was breaking. “Aw, after Chloe herself? That is so sweet.”

“And, uh, this little guy,” Richie indicated to the baby that Bill was holding. “We decided to call him Georgie.” 

Bill looked up at him, his eyes wide. Trembling, he tried to duck away so nobody would see the tears. “T-T-That’s beautiful! Thanks, y-you guys!”

“Oh, you made Bill emotional! Audra hollered still holding up her phone camera, capturing the moment. Even she had tears in her eyes.

Stan came up and put Eddie and Richie on the back. “You guys are going to make... really interesting parents.”

“Stan, can I just tell you how much I’ve always loved your honesty?” Richie commented giving his good friend a side hug. 

good for you, good for you

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: explicit tags: pwp, smut, d/s, praise kink, power dynamics, blowjobs, established relationship word count: 4.2k summary: It starts like that: Dan's buzzing anxieties and Phil's sincere words helping to keep him grounded. Barely even a relinquishing of any power at all, really.

you can all blame @intoapuddle​ for this one!

read on ao3 or here!

Dan is a bit of a control freak. He's particular about the way he likes things to be and he's not above manipulating a situation to go his way. Letting other people do work for him, work that represents him, is nearly impossible. He has to have his hands in everything to do with his career, no matter how small a detail may seem.

There had been a part of Dan, years ago, that had thought Phil might be put off by the way he'd ask for advice and then ignore it to do things the way he wanted to anyway, but he never needed to worry: Phil is more than a bit of a control freak, and he's fucking stubborn to boot. If anyone on this planet is going to understand Dan's need to puppeteer his own life, it's going to be the man who puts a mask in place to simply head down to the shops. Creative differences and personal differences can either get settled with a debate that lasts for hours or a game of rock/paper/scissors. There is no in-between for them, no easy compromise.

Giving up control doesn't come easily to either of them in any facet of their lives, but that doesn't mean it isn't a fun game sometimes.

Like when Dan will tell Phil to get off his ass and kiss him and Phil will lean back and smirk like Dan is so adorable for even trying before he'll say, "Make me."

Or when Phil will tell Dan to pick up the pace, over and over, and Dan will slow his hips to a roll and yawn like his own body isn't on fire with all the nerve endings that spark from being inside his boyfriend until Phil relents, body slumping forward to the mattress in a defeat of sorts.

It's always a challenge for one of them to gain the upper hand, whether they're fooling around or not, and normally Dan likes it that way.

Today, though. Today, Dan has been staring at his white ceiling for far too long, waiting for the motivation to get out of bed and start the day. He can hear Phil singing in the shower and feels a pull to join him, but it isn't strong enough to break through the haze. It's not the usual fog, the kind that puts Dan under for a few days and makes him come out the other side of it gasping and aching - it's something newer, that low thrum of anxiety that makes his brain keep catching on every What If that passes idly through it.

The shower stops, the singing turning to a soft hum that makes Dan feel some peacefulness even with his loud, loud brain. Phil's lips drop to Dan's forehead, his short hair still dripping a little bit, and Dan manages a smile.

"You getting up, baby?" Phil asks, and Dan appreciates that he doesn't sound worried, not yet. It took a long time for Phil to stop hovering every single time that Dan stared blankly at the ceiling like this. He's glad for it because, frankly, sometimes Dan is just lazy.

Not today. Today, Dan's brain is running circles around itself and twisting things up and making it feel like a Herculean task to stand, so.

"Dunno. Do you want me to?"

There's a beat of quiet. Dan blinks up at the ceiling, chasing the spots out of his vision. He's not sure why he asked, but he feels like, maybe, he could get out of bed if Phil needed him to.

"I want you to," Phil says, slow, like he's waiting for the punchline.

That tiny little push, just knowing that he could be making Phil happier if he faced the day, is all it takes for Dan to sit up and stretch his arms out. His brain doesn't settle down, not really, but he's able to blink back some of the hazy listlessness that comes whenever he's got too many things to think about and focus on doing what Phil wants him to do.

It starts like that: Dan's buzzing anxieties and Phil's sincere words helping to keep him grounded. Barely even a relinquishing of any power at all, really.

Dan is sitting on the downstairs sofa, worrying about his future like he always seems to be these days. He's watching Phil, who is actually hard at work, headphones on and mouth moving silently along to things Dan can't hear. He's got his own deadlines, his own projects, overworking himself to make his visions a reality, and Dan has started to feel like dead weight.

This break is starting to feel less and less like a chance to catch his breath. Dan has things he's doing, sure, but nothing's got the type of looming deadline that he's always relied on to keep him on track. It's way too easy to just send off two emails and then play Skyrim for the rest of the day.

Phil always seems to know what he wants and how to get there efficiently, cutting out the months of turmoil that Dan gets anytime he needs to make a big decision about his life, and that's as alien to Dan as it is fascinating. Maybe they're both control freaks, but Phil is, at least, capable of making both big and small decisions without freaking out.

Before he has to sit in this feeling any longer, Dan reaches out to prod Phil's thigh with his toes.

"Yeah?" Phil hums, tugging at his headphones so he can hear Dan but not looking away from the screen. Dan pokes at him again and again until Phil rolls his eyes and gives Dan his full attention. "Oi, what?"

"What should I be doing right now?" Dan asks.

"I don't think you're forgetting to do anything," says Phil. He shrugs. "As far as I know, anyway."

"No, that's not it," says Dan. He worries at the jagged edge of his thumbnail, wondering how he's supposed to explain something he doesn't understand himself. "I don't think I need to be doing something specific, I just… need to do something. I don't want to sit around today."

Phil nods. His fingers twitch on his keyboard like he's anxious to get back to work. "Okay, then don't."

"But what should I be doing instead?" Dan asks. He pauses, then fixes the phrasing to what he's actually asking. "What do you want me to be doing?"

Phil's lips quirk up and he jostles Dan's ankle playfully. "Laundry needs done, y'know," he says. It's a joke, really, but Dan is surprised by how willing he actually is to do the chore - if it'll make Phil happy.

"You want me to do laundry?" Dan checks.

He's already standing. Phil is looking up at him quizzically, head tilted, still smiling a bit, and then he shakes his head.

"Sure, hon, I want you to do laundry," Phil laughs.

It's not for another few hours that Phil comes to find him, seemingly done work for the day, and he stops in their doorway with an expression of unfiltered surprise.

"What?" Dan asks, pausing in the process of folding a pair of Phil's jeans. He's sat cross-legged in the middle of their bed, a couple loads' worth of clean clothes surrounding him, and it hits him that Phil probably thought he fucked off for a nap or something.

"You did the laundry," Phil says, bewildered enough for Dan to be a little offended.

"Yeah," says Dan. "You said you wanted me to."

"Since when does that make a difference?"

Dan shrugs and looks back down at his hands. He folds more precisely than Phil has in his entire life, moving on to a faded t-shirt.

"Dunno," he says, because it's more or less true. Phil makes a skeptical sort of noise. "Okay, fine, like. Today, I guess. I just kind of… wanted someone else to make my decisions for me." That's not quite right either. "Wanted you to make my decisions for me."

"Why?" Phil asks, all curiosity and no judgement. The bed dips where his weight settles onto it, and he's close enough that Dan could easily lean into him.

Dan wants to say that he doesn't know again, but he thinks that Phil might pinch him if he does.

"You've got anxiety," Dan says. Phil huffs a laugh against his shoulder.

"Er, yeah," says Phil. "And?"

"Don't you ever just… I don't know, like, get overwhelmed by everything and want someone else to take care of it for you?"

"Yeah," Phil agrees so easily that something inside Dan clicks into place, makes him feel less like his brain is broken. Phil presses a light kiss to the back of Dan's neck, and Dan can feel the curve of his smile when Dan shivers in response to it.

"That's how I'm feeling today," Dan sighs, leaning back into Phil's body warmth. "Just, like, not up for making any kind of decision, big or small, y'know? Easier to just do what you want me to."

A hum against Dan's skin, and then Phil's mouth is moving towards the side of Dan's neck, inching to his more sensitive spots. Dan tilts his head to the side automatically, his fingers pausing where they lay on another shirt.

"You know what I want you to do right now?" Phil asks, almost conversational.

"No," Dan says, even though he's got some idea from the way Phil grazes his teeth over Dan's pulse point. "Tell me."

Phil is quiet for long enough that Dan frowns and glances over his shoulder. He meets Phil's eyes, and Phil gives him a sheepish little grin. "Sorry," he murmurs. "There's always so much I want to do to you. I'm weighing my options over here."

"Don't weigh for too long, bub. I'll fuck off and make you fold the rest of this."

It's an empty threat for several reasons, not least of which is Phil's inability to fold things nicely, but it makes Phil laugh and press closer to Dan and that's really the whole point.

"Alright, alright." Phil nips at Dan's shoulder, right where the wide neck of his jumper starts to show off bare skin. He rubs little circles into Dan's upper thigh, and Dan can almost feel the warmth of his fingers through the soft jogger material. "First of all, I want your clothes off. Wanna look at you."

Dan huffs a laugh and uncrosses his legs to stretch them out, knowing full well that Phil is watching the movement. "Should I be getting myself naked, then, or did you want to do the honours?"

"I want you to stand up and strip for me," Phil hums. "Can you do that for me, baby?"

"Fuck yeah."

Neither of them are very graceful people, so there's a bit of laughter and a misplaced elbow or two as Dan crawls out of his fort of clothes to stand at the side of their bed. He's grinning and so is Phil, that giddy anticipation never quite fading in the decade since they started doing this.

Dan doesn't make a show of it the way he used to, when he was younger and less sure of himself. It's nice to have Phil's eyes on him, but what comes next is even nicer, so Dan doesn't bother being sexy about tugging his jumper and sweats off. Phil is still smiling, softer now, as he swings his legs out of bed and gets comfortably sat on the side of it.

"Of course you're not wearing pants," Phil says, fond. "You're so lazy."

"Maybe I'm just a slut," Dan argues pointlessly.

"You're obviously both," says Phil. His eyes are twinkling and intent behind his glasses as he looks Dan over, appreciative. Dan strikes a silly pose and Phil giggles, holding out his hands. "C'mere, now."

Normally, the direct order would make Dan dig his heels in and arch a brow, waiting for Phil to either ask nicely or pull him closer with his own impatient grip. Dan still doesn't know why, exactly, but he doesn't need to know right now - he can overanalyze it later, when he isn't swaying into the space between Phil's spread legs and smiling down at him, waiting for Phil to tell him what to do next instead.

If Phil notices the difference, he doesn't draw attention to it. He runs his palms over the curves of Dan's hips and leans forward to press his smile to Dan's soft tummy. "Pretty," he comments, idly enough that Dan wouldn't be able to argue the fact even if he wanted to.

"Mm," Dan says, noncommittal. The suddenness of Phil's teeth on his stomach makes him jump a little bit. "Fucking ow."

"As if that hurt," says Phil. He's dismissive about it, but he kisses the spot like he's making it better all the same. "I gave you a compliment, you rat, you should say thank you."

Another joke. Dan could roll his eyes and clamber into Phil's lap and end this whole thing right here, but he doesn't want to. Instead he takes a slow breath, playing with the ends of Phil's hair to try and calm some of the nervous, excited fluttering in his chest.

"Thank you," Dan murmurs, "for calling me pretty."

Phil pulls back a bit and looks up at Dan, his smile faltering and his eyes searching. Dan wonders what he sees - this isn't exactly the most flattering angle to look at Dan from, but Phil has seen all his angles at this point - but whatever it is, it has Phil nosing down Dan's soft happy trail after a moment.

"You're very welcome," says Phil, his breath ghosting over Dan's half-hard cock and making it twitch. "What do you want me to do?"

The question feels like a trap, somehow. Dan furrows his brow, tries to figure it out for a moment before giving up. "Whatever you want," he says honestly.

Phil hums. "Good boy."

Dan doesn't expect the zing of arousal that sparks through him at the simple praise, but he's certainly not complaining about it. That's what he's doing here, isn't it? He's trying to be good for Phil.

"Thank you," Dan says after a beat. That's how Phil wants him to respond to a compliment, so - at least for today, for this - that's what he's going to do.

"You like that," says Phil. He takes Dan's cock in hand and lets it harden further against his cheek as he nuzzles at it. Dan pulls off Phil's glasses for both of their sakes and sets them on one of the folded piles nearest them.

Phil blinks a couple of times, adjusting to the difference in his vision, and then he smiles at Dan and runs his fingers lightly over the side of Dan's sensitive dick.

God, Phil is barely even touching him and he's not even a little naked yet, but Dan still gets hard for him as easily as he did ten years ago.

"Do you like being good for me?" Phil asks, shifting so the words ghost over Dan's cock and briefly making him forget the question. Dan doesn't respond, but Phil doesn't let that deter him. "You're already being so good, baby, never seen you so patient."

Dan opens his mouth to say thank you again, but all that comes out is a strangled sort of noise when Phil presses an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of his cock, licking slowly up it without breaking eye contact.

"Fuck," Dan breathes, running his fingers through Phil's hair with a bit more purpose. "That's really good. You wanna blow me, babe?"

"Yeah," Phil says easily. He leans into Dan's touch. "That okay with you?"

"Obviously that's okay with me." Dan rolls his eyes. Underneath all the shaky fluttering that comes with trying new things is a deep-seated affection and desire for the man in front of him, and Dan is so overwhelmed for a moment by the warring feelings inside him that he has to cover it with a joke before Phil notices. "Can't believe you can tell me to do whatever you want right now and you just want a dick in your mouth."

"Your dick," Phil corrects him, like it really matters. Like there was any doubt left in Dan's mind.

"Whatever. Still stupid of you."

Phil huffs, more amused than annoyed, and pulls back to squint up at Dan. "You're not allowed to make fun of me if you put me in charge," he says, grinning.

Is that what Dan's done? Put Phil 'in charge'? Handed over control without so much as a cursory protest? He supposes that's exactly what they're doing. Dan is more okay with that than he would have expected to be.

"Still," Dan starts, and Phil pinches the bit of chub at his hip.

"Shut up," Phil says, mild, still smiling. "I'm going to suck you off, because that's what I want to do right now, and you're going to keep your pretty mouth shut."

His tone is light enough that Dan could still take it as a joke or a challenge if he really wanted to.

He doesn't want to. He wants to be good, today.

Dan bites his lip and nods, shifting his weight to stand more comfortably since he's not going to be moving for a while.

"That's so good," Phil tells him, taking Dan's cock properly in his soft hand. He takes it in his mouth for a few seconds, just long enough to press the head of it against the inside of his cheek and blink up at Dan with his lips obscenely stretched. Dan swallows a curse and Phil pulls off him with a grin. "Yeah, you got it. Such a good boy."

This time, Dan expects the rush of heat at the words. It makes him want to squirm away from the feeling, but he knows that these things are always better if he lets them play out.

He's spent so long denying himself things he wants, things that feel good, and he's not about to start that nonsense again now.

Keeping quiet is difficult for him but not impossible. It's not the first time he's done it and it certainly won't be the last, it's just usually because of a dare or a challenge and not because Phil has simply told him to. Dan digs his teeth into his chapped lower lip and keeps a hand settled in Phil's hair. He's not pushing or pulling, not today, he just wants to hold onto Phil to stay grounded.

Phil is good at this. Phil has always been good at this, and he's fucking smug about it as well. Dan has to focus on physical sensations, like how soft Phil's hair is between his fingers, how the breath in his own chest keeps catching, how incredible Phil's tongue feels under the head of his cock, or he's going to start rambling nonsense as per usual.

There are a lot of times that Phil sucks him off to get him hard or just to endlessly tease, but this is goal-oriented. Phil's mouth is hot and tight and he's coordinated with his hands in a way that he never is outside of sex. He's rolling the weight of Dan's balls in one palm and using the other to jerk Dan off with tight, quick strokes, and Dan doesn't stand a fucking chance.

Soft noises keep escaping from Dan's lips, but Phil doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he just doesn't want Dan to use words, or maybe he's already forgotten the directive altogether, but either way the sounds make Phil groan around Dan's cock and close his eyes, losing himself in it.

"Close," is the only word Dan allows, because he's getting there fast and he wants to know that it's okay, that he's still doing good, that Phil wants him to come. He wants permission.

Phil pulls off him to breathe and to look up, smirking a bit at whatever he sees on Dan's face. He flattens his tongue under the head of Dan's cock and shivers when it visibly twitches. "Yeah," he breathes all over Dan's sensitive dick, speeding up his hand. "So good for me, want you to come in my mouth, baby."

His mouth is sliding back onto Dan as soon as he finishes the sentence, barely giving Dan a chance to process the order before he's following it, cupping the back of Phil's head and coming down his throat with a loud groan. How many times he’s gotten off with Phil doesn’t seem to matter in the slightest - it still hits him so hard, every single time, makes him feel hazy and sated in the way a solo orgasm rarely manages to. It’s the same this time, except for the key difference: it wasn’t up to him, and that’s really, really hot.

They both have to catch their breath once Dan is over that crest and onto nap mode, but Phil looks so unbelievably smug and fond and Dan could wait, sure, but he doesn't want to.

Dan sinks to his knees between Phil's spread legs and tugs impatiently at the ties of his sweats. Phil laughs and gets with the program, raising his hips enough that Dan can pull them and his pants off, pressing dozens of open-mouthed kisses to Phil's pale legs as he does.

"That's right," Phil says, pleased with himself and low with arousal. Dan whines a bit and noses at Phil's inner thigh before attaching his mouth to it and sucking hard enough to make Phil curse. "Shit, yeah, alright, fucking - come here."

Phil's fingers curl in Dan's hair, but they don't just idly pet him - he tugs, hard enough to dislodge Dan from his thigh. He pauses for a moment, giving Dan time to object if he wants to, but Dan only widens his eyes and lets his mouth fall open, tongue lolling. It's always a rush to see Phil's smug aura drop and turn to something needy and primal and beautiful.

With a soft groan, Phil uses the grip of both his hands in Dan's hair to pull him as far onto his cock as he'll smoothly go. He holds Dan down until his eyes start to water and then he tugs Dan back off to let him breathe. They don't always do it this way, but Dan has to admit that today it's making him feel the weirdest sense of contentment to be used like this - to be useful to Phil.

"So fucking pretty," Phil is murmuring, and Dan’s eyes close as he lets the squirmy feeling the praise gives him make a home in his fluttering stomach. "So good, baby, mouth made for my cock."

At some point, Dan's eyes close and Phil keeps rattling off nonsense about how pretty and good and lovely he is, all of which just makes that content feeling sink deep into Dan's bones. He hums his appreciation, mouth full of Phil's cock, and Phil swears loudly.

"Fuck, I'm," he says, and then he pulls Dan off him so suddenly that Dan's head spins.

Dan blinks his watery eyes open and watches Phil bring himself off, teeth digging into his lip and a hand holding Dan in place by his hair. It's such a hot image that it takes all of Dan's self control to close his eyes so he doesn't get jizz in them - again - and tilt his face for Phil. It doesn't take long for Phil's own orgasm to hit with a grunt that Dan has become all too familiar with over the years. It sucks not to watch it happen, but… this is good, too.

After a few moments, where the room is quiet but for the sound of Phil's heavy breathing, Dan feels soft fabric press against his cheek. He makes a pleased sort of noise and leans into the touch as Phil cleans him off. Once he's sure he can safely open his eyes, Dan grins up at Phil and shakes his head.

"Oi," he says, a little scratchy from the rough treatment. "I just washed that shirt."

Phil shrugs and tosses the t-shirt to the floor to join the small pile. "So you'll wash it again."

"Fuck you."

There's quiet again, for a minute. Dan's mind isn't racing from thought to thought, flitting between ideas too fast to land, and it's kind of nice to just be on his knees in front of Phil and bask in the afterglow.

"That was so good." Phil tugs lightly at the curls wound in his fingers. Dan hums an agreement, resting his forehead on Phil's thigh and waiting for - something. He doesn't know what he's waiting for until he gets it. "You're so good, Dan," Phil says, and the contentment that Dan feels from the words now makes his whole body buzz.

"Thanks, babe," says Dan, pressing a wet kiss to the skin under his mouth and laughing when Phil's thigh muscles twitch. "I needed that."

"Seems like more fun than the usual method of ignoring your stress 'til you snap," Phil teases. "Maybe I should try it."

"Totally." Dan yawns and blinks his eyes open. "There's all these clothes to put away, y'know."

Phil laughs, loud and uninhibited and lovely, and Dan feels a smile curve his own lips without permission. "I think the fuck not," says Phil. "You finish what you started, you actual goblin."

"Eh, worth a shot." Dan leans up to press their smiles together, marvelling at the peace and quiet in his own mind.

Apologies

June 21st “Right, Niall, get in position. A little to your left, closer to Lin.” I demanded from beside the lake, shivering and dripping from my recent dip. “No, your left! That’s my left.” “Which left?” “Your left! Left!”

“What is going on?” Libby laughed, watching the three lads get in line in the water. Libby had only just got there after having been at work most of the day, and preparing for her arrival, the lads had come up with a rather incredible synchronized swimming routine for her to arrive to. They’d sort of been exhausting her at work recently, with longer shifts and more responsibilities but no extra pay, and Louis was practically making it his life’s aim to cheer her up at any point and in any way that he could. Even with a water-based dance routine. “Just watch, you’re gunna love it.” I giggled to her. “Ready, lads?” Louis asked, and they nodded. “And a one, and a two, and a one two three.” Their arms shot up, all bizarrely in time to say how little practice they’d had over the past hour, and well, their entire lives before that. They started spinning on the spot, Niall clearly already dying to laugh but trying to just be serious for a minute of his life. Lin and Louis actually looked incredibly involved and invested in their routine. Libby was losing her head instantly, and I just stood laughing with her. Slowly, as they continued, my smile began to fade from my face as I stopped concentrating on their dance and lost myself staring at Lin, maybe forcing myself to look at him in a way I hadn’t done before. I hadn’t gone back to him with an answer to the question he’d asked me at the beginning of the week, and I didn’t really want to keep him waiting much longer. He’d asked me on Monday and it was now Sunday afternoon and I knew if I went much longer without acknowledging his proposed date and how much courage it had taken him, he’d retract the whole thing subconsciously and pretend it had never happened to save himself the shame. I wasn’t even sure that I’d made a decision, but then it seemed to me that there were pros and cons and risks either side, so why not just take the plunge? I wanted to let go and not even think about it and just see how it all unfolded of its own accord. Part of the reason I wanted to say yes was almost like a nod of respect to him for asking in the first place. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated the fact that he wasn’t going to let his fear hold him back and ruin something that could be incredible. Fear had ruined and stolen things from my life before and it was only looking back that I could see how foolish that was, the mistakes I and others had made due to fear. I didn’t want to look back on this and feel the same way. I was snapped out of my daze when Libby started clapping the lads along, laughing manically at their stupidity and the fact that Niall was completely out of time and now spinning the total opposite way to the other two. “You’re killing it!” She cheered them on. “I didn’t know there was so much talent in our group of friends, holy shit!” I had started and ended my week by that lake, starting somber and reflective and ending fun and carefree, always surrounded by people I loved, peaceful, happy. Maybe trying something with Lin would be the thing that finally shook things up again. And maybe that was exactly what I needed.

“You wanna stay?” I suggested nervously to Lin as everyone began drying off and packing up their things to head back into Rosebury. “Huh?” He hadn’t heard, too busy attempting to carefully dry his dreads as much as he could with his t-shirt. “Do you wanna stay for a bit? We could chat, or whatever.” “Uh... Yeah. Yeah definitely.” His smile was gradual, sensing my mood and tone. “Did you drive here?” “Yeah, I’ll drive us back. Saves you crawling into the back of Louis’ car too.” “I dunno why Niall always gets shotgun, it’s not fair.” “Niall always gets what he wants.” I smiled. “What is that about him? I feel like he could ask me to do anything and I would!” “He’s got a quality about him. It’s Niall’s world and we’re all just living in it.” “Rosebury might just be a figment of his imagination and we’re all just living in it, and we don’t even know that we don’t actually exist.” “What the fuck, Lin? Why would you say that? That’s gunna freak me out for weeks. That’s gunna keep me up!” “OI!” Louis yelped as they headed towards his car. “You coming, or what?” Lin turned his head so he could answer on our behalf, but before he’d even managed to spit out a sentence, Louis had this shit-eating grin on his face that showed he already knew exactly what was going on. “Um, we’re gunna stick around for a bit. Drinks tonight?” “Yeah, maybe. I’ll text you.” Louis called back, the three of them getting into his car. “Sweet. See ya later.” “Drive safe!” I yelled. Niall and Libby were none the wiser as they waved their goodbyes and got on the road, leaving the two of us alone. It was the first time we’d been alone since he’d asked me out. I was nervous. Never before had I felt like I didn’t know how to talk to Lin. From the second I’d met him, we’d conversed with ease. He was so friendly and bubbly and easy to get along with, it had been impossible to be any other way with him! It was so unnatural to feel as though I didn’t have anything to say to him when actually I probably had more to say than ever before, it was just harder now. It was obvious he felt the same way, so obvious in fact, that he called it out. I liked that about Lin. “This is weird.” “Right? Fuck, I know, I’m sorry.” “It’s my fault, why’re you sorry?” He cried. “I feel like I shouldn’t have ever asked and… put that on you, I’m sorry.” “No, don’t- Okay, sit.” I huffed, taking my place on the ground, Lin quietly sitting beside me. “I don’t want you to feel like that at all, because… I’ve given it careful consideration, and I think… we should do it.” “Seriously?” “Yeah. We should. We should… go on a date, or whatever. Although, I’m not even sure I know how dates work.” I sniggered down to the ground. “No one’s ever taken me out on a date.” “No one? What about Sam?” “Well we were young, weren’t we? We just kinda got to know each other at college, and back then all we did was get drunk and go to house parties. The next thing I knew, he was my boyfriend. We never really… had a dating stage.” With Sam, we’d been too young and too smitten to even think about dating. When things started with us, it was still all about being cool and bumping into each other in the right places, trying to show interest without ever being overly interested. Dates weren’t really a common thing at that age, so he’d never taken me out properly to try and woo me; he hadn’t needed to. And then there was Harry. “You deserve to be taken out on a date.” He was confident yet bashful, sweet. “Okay, well I will give you the honour of doing that then.” I joked. “You will?” He grinned. “I will.” “Fucking hell. M’gunna have to pull out the big guns then. First proper date.” “Yeah, good luck with that. There’s fuck all to do in Rosebury.” “Okay, so maybe we go out of Rosebury then.” He shrugged. “I mean, if I’m gunna do it, I’m gunna do it right.” “I’ll let you think about that then.” I giggled. “I’m already stressing about it. Genuinely.” “I wouldn’t. I think I’m pretty easy to please.” “Good to know.” Struggling to find something to say again, I looked out to the lake and attempted to control my breathing, my stomach not stilling even though we seemed to be fine. The thing that I couldn’t shake was the fact that my insides weren’t churning with nerves because of what he did to me, but because of what the scenario was doing to me. I didn’t want to overthink it and start questioning why we were so awkward, if it meant something, because after being friends for so many years it had to be inevitable, surely. But I craved that immediate spark, that sensation and desire that could occur between two people, like your bodies are begging it to happen. That was lacking and it was something we couldn’t create or force, I could only hope that it would appear in time and blind me when it arrived. “Thanks for… having the guts to ask me.” I spoke after a while. “That must have been difficult.” “I literally felt like my insides were rotting.” He seemed completely serious. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks for saying yes. Eventually.” “We’ll just… see how it goes.” I turned to look at him. “Yep. We’ll see how it goes.” He looked back to me. His gaze had changed. The only reason I had been barely surviving these new dynamics was because at our core, we felt the same. It was Lin and he was familiar even when our circumstances weren’t, and that was why I’d said yes and why I’d had the nerve to give it all a chance. But then he looked at me, and it had changed. He wasn’t just looking; he was gazing and it was different and I felt like I wanted to scream. And then he kissed me. He just threw his head forward and put his lips on mine and he fucking kissed me. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds before I ripped my head backwards, eyes still closed, not breathing at all before I just blurted out the only words I could. “You kissed me.” He didn’t say a thing for far too long. I opened my eyes, seeing that he was just as alarmed by his actions as I was. He looked horrified. “I did. Shit, I don’t know why I did that, m’sorry. Fuck, I dunno why I’m like this. I’m so fucking awkward and useless. I dunno what the fuck’s coming over me. I don’t-” This time it was me, flying my lips towards his. I wanted to kiss him and actually do it for long enough to be able to decipher how I felt about the kiss, but also to stop him ranting on and putting himself down, always thinking he’d done the wrong thing. He widened his mouth, kept the kiss calm yet intense, soothing his fingers down my jaw as his tongue gently met mine. It was slow, strange but good, captivating yet confusing. It was peculiar to kiss like that and still feel completely clueless. He slowed down our kiss, eventually stopping and laying his forehead against mine, the two of us taking a few quiet moments to reflect. “Sor-” “Lin, you’re gunna have to stop apologising for everything.” “Okay.” He chuckled, rubbing his nose against mine. And then the feeling came, crystal clear and undeniable. I was happy. And though it didn’t give me any of the answers I was searching for, it didn’t feel like a complete moment of clarity that defined what I wanted and what we might become, it was good enough for me. I was really happy. “Wanted to do that for ages.” He admitted through a whisper, like he was unsure whether he actually wanted me to know or not. “Did it disappoint?” I asked. “No, not at all! It was just… weird.” “Mm.” He leaned in a placed one last peck against my lips, my smile bursting as soon as he pulled away, the two of us incredibly coy and shy, but it seemed he was happy too. We would be okay. No matter what happened, we would be okay. I knew that then.

June 22nd “Was it nice? Was it big enough?” “It was fine.” My dad sighed on the other end of the line. “But I didn’t get any feeling about it, really. I can’t see myself there.” “Fair enough. It’s only the first place you’ve viewed anyway, I wouldn’t even worry about it.” “No, I won’t start panicking yet.” He'd been for his first viewing of a place he was looking to rent only a week after expressing the fact he wanted to leave Rosebury. He was moving quickly, proving to me just how much he’d been struggling since he moved back. He was eager to move on. Onwards and upwards, hopefully. My pride for him was literally bursting out of me. After so many years, he’d finally reached the stage where he felt he could progress and start this new life without feeling guilty about it. It was time he found his own contentment again, started anew. His happiness had been so routed in my mother for so long, and as wonderful as that was, I was thrilled that he didn’t really have any other option than to be utterly selfish and look out for himself. “How about you? How’s your day looking?” He asked. “I’m in the shop. I’ve given Louis the day off because him and Libby are looking at some venue for the wedding, so it’s just me today.” “Bloody hell, they’re not wasting any time, are they?” “I think they think they’ve had enough wasted time. They’re so adorable, it’s ridiculous.” “And have you decided on your date with Lincoln yet?” “Uh… yeah. I said yeah.” “Oh that’s good. I’m glad. Are you feeling okay about it?” “Yeah, fine. It’s strange but… y’know. It’s good. Why not?” “C’mon, Fee. You can talk to me. I know you struggled last year, when Harry left.” I was beyond thankful that my dad had been there to console me through our breakup, or whatever the hell it was. He’d been the only person there who I felt I could talk to, spill my guts to, and he’d been wonderful throughout. My heartbreak was delayed, in some ways. I’d been so angry with him and so confused by the things he'd said and how things had ended, that even after he’d left completely it hadn’t quite sunk in. And following that, when my mum died, that took up every single emotion and every single inch of my body, I didn’t have the room to habitat the pain he’d caused. It must have been a few months after her funeral, long after he’d first left. Nothing happened in particular, but it hit me from nowhere; that he’d gone, that I wouldn’t see him again, that I’d really loved him and lost him. It took so long for it to sink in, but when it had, I broke. My dad felt the brunt of that. My dad was the one who had to pick up the pieces, and I still hadn’t quite managed to put them back together. “Um… I kinda feel-” I was cut short by the bell chiming as someone walked into my shop, shutting up completely because I recognised her instantly this time around. It was Harry’s mum. It had been exactly a year to do the day since I’d last seen Harry, and in walked his mother. I stared in disbelief. “Fee? You there?” “I’ll have to call you back, I’ve got a customer.” “Alright, speak soon.” “Bye.” I hung up quickly, shooting her a friendly smile which was returned as she began to mosey around my shop quietly once again. I couldn’t believe she was back again. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again, despite the fact I knew she visited our little village. The fact she was there but I didn’t even know where Harry was, whether he’d ever reached her, if he’d even tried again. I felt really lost. “Julia?” I was timid, anxious. She turned to face me, looking sort of amazed. “I can’t believe you remember me.” She tittered. “It’s been over a year since I was last here.” “Well… I dunno.” I mumbled. “I uh… I guess I’m quite good with that sort of thing. We had a good chat.” There was a much grander reason behind why I remembered her so well, but that didn’t feel like the sort of thing I should just blurt out to her, even though seeing her then I really wanted to. I wanted her to know everything and hear what she had to say, because I’d never hear it from Harry. Their family was something I’d grown to care about and I wanted the best for all of them, even Jack. I recalled the time when Harry told me that he believed trauma either tied people together or tore them apart, and how their family had fallen victim to the latter, and I wanted so much for them to heal, tie themselves together even after all those years. Maybe they were on their way to that but I didn’t even know. There was much I could say to her. “We did.” She nodded. “How’ve you been?” “Yeah, yeah fine. How’re you?” “Good. Glad to be back, I love it here.” “It’s a beautiful place.” “It is. So, I feel like since you know my name, I should know yours?” She inquired. She was so friendly, so gentle. I saw a lot of Harry in her. They had the same eyes, the same beautiful smile, one that was warm and inviting. Even the energy she gave off without knowing reminded me of him, and suddenly I felt like I wanted to cry. It took so much strength to hold it back, but it was as though I could feel him there with me and it was agonising. “It’s Alfie.” I swallowed, and it hurt. “Alfie? That’s unusual for a girl.” “Yeah. It was my mum’s idea. Apparently, she was dead-set on it, much to my dad’s dismay. I think he wanted a really traditional name, but she wasn’t budging. She was tough like that.” “Did your mum grow up around here?” She asked, seemingly very intrigued. “Yeah.” “Did she… Did she have a dog called Custard?” I think my heart stopped beating, completely. She knew my mum. Harry’s mum knew my mum. “Rita.” I whispered, my tears brewing fully, unable to keep them at bay. “Yes, Rita! Rita was your mum?” She was excited, kindly ignoring the way I’d started to cry. “I went to school with her. She was… my best friend before I had to leave.” “How did… I…” “She was such a romantic. We used to play dress up, wear binbags as wedding dresses. Even then, she was set on the name Alfie. That’s how I knew, as soon as you said! We were so young, but she knew. I can’t believe she stuck with it! I remember it so well. I can’t believe this. What a small world. How is she?” Our world was even smaller than she recognised. My ties with Harry were even stronger and deeper and older than we could have ever known. Even when he’d told me his mother had grown up in Rosebury, I felt connected to him in new ways, but to now learn that our mothers had been so close in their childhood, it meant even more. I knew Julia had left when she was really young after losing both of her parents, and maybe that was why neither myself or my father could strongly recall hearing about Julia; maybe my mother had told us stories but never given a name, or maybe we’d just forgotten. It was mind blowing. “Um… She died. About a year ago.” “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” She rested her hand on her chest. “That’s… But she was so young?” “Very young.” I wiped my tears away quickly, embarrassed. “She uh… She had Alzheimer’s. Early onset, so… She had a lot of fight in her, but… Sorry, I dunno why I’m crying-” “Please don’t be sorry. It’s totally understandable. I’m sorry, I wish I hadn’t said anything-” “Are you kidding? I’m so glad you said something. Like… you knew my mum, that’s insane! I think these are happy tears, I don’t even know.” She reached out and took my hand, pinched her fingers into my palm and squeezed tightly, smiled sympathetically. She felt like a mother, in that way that some women do; certain qualities and sensations that just accompanied her and her friendly touch, a familiarity, a safeness. If anything, I think it made me cry even more, though that definitely hadn’t been her intention. “Thanks.” I sniffled and chuckled at the same time. “And sorry. I’ve probably made you really uncomfortable.” “Not at all. I’ve seen a lot of tears in my time, this is nothing new to me.” She comforted me as much as she could, her smile bright. “I had two little boys. Trust me, I know tears.” My vision dropped down to the counter, the mention of them making me want to block the entire conversation out. She was so unaware of how much I knew about her children and her husband and just how many tears had fallen in that family. They had struggled so much, lost so much. Even beyond their father, beyond what Jack and Harry had done in their teenage years; Harry had told me himself that there had been times where she struggled to even feed them because they didn’t have the money. She had been fighting for all of them on her own. Julia had faced and conquered some truly trying times. “M’still sorry.” I sniffled. “Tell you what, I’ll grab the wine I came for and I’ll get out of your hair.” She let go of my hand, thinking I’d want some space. “It was a Caymus, beautiful.” “I remember. Cabernet Sauvignon, right?” Already getting out from behind the counter to retrieve the bottle for her, I started to pull myself together, stop myself crying. “You’re good at this.” I remembered her last visit to my shop as though it had happened only days earlier. She didn’t know that I’d have any reason why I should remember her more than others, but after recognising her and ringing Harry and waiting, I was so tuned-in and locked-on that I could recall every aspect of that day, down to all the mundane details. I climbed our little ladder to grab the wine she desired down from the shelf, carrying it carefully back down the steps and then over to her, passing it carefully into her hands. “It’s free.” I told her. “I’m sorry? No. No, I couldn’t.” She tried to pass it back. “Please, you have to.” I pushed it to her. “My mum used to run this place, and if she was here today, you’d be leaving with a free bottle of wine. Please, have it.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” She clutched it to her chest, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath inwards, as though kindness was rare to her, as though this gesture was special, a moment and a feeling to cherish. “Thank you.” “You’re more than welcome.” I cooed. “I’ll maybe see you in another year or so, if I visit again.” “Please do.” I nodded. “Do you need a bag?” “No, this is perfect, thank you. Nice to see you, Alfie.” “You too.” She turned on her heel, heading to the door and swinging it open, one foot outside before I spoke, without even meaning to, without even knowing what I was doing, without even thinking, it just happened. “I know Harry!” I uttered urgently, instantly bringing her to a halt. I cursed quietly beneath my breath as she slowly turned to face me once again, evidently alarmed by what I’d said, and so was I. “I’m sorry?” She was quiet, startled. “Harry. I… I know Harry.” “My Harry?” I nodded, and she let the door close with herself still indoors, the two of us stood staring in silence for a portion of time I couldn’t possibly decipher. I could see from the look on her face alone that he hadn’t gotten in touch. She really hadn’t seen him since he was 18 years old. There was a chance I’d made a mistake by telling her, but Harry and his wishes were no longer mine to fret over. I didn’t need to worry whether he’d be angry for intruding or trying to push him, because he wasn’t even there to see it or experience it. I didn’t mean to take matters into my own hands because he had failed to, but if there was something that I could do to help their family then I would. “Where is he?” Her voice was feeble, scared to hear my answer. “I’m not sure. New York, I think, but I don’t know for sure. But he was here, for a while. He lived here.” “Here?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He bought your old house for you.” “What?” “He bought it for you. Did it up, hoping you’d come back. It’s beautiful, and as far as I��m aware it was never put up for sale again so… I think he’d want you to know. It’s yours, if you want it. The number I had for him was disconnected months ago, but I just know how much he wants you to have it.” Embarrassingly, I had tried to call him more than once. Usually after a few drinks, feeling lonely and asking questions about him and his wellbeing. It wasn’t that I ever knew what I wanted to say, but I knew I wanted to hear his voice more than I could even understand. “I… I haven’t heard from him for years.” “No… I haven’t either.” I choked. “But I know he tried a few times, to find you. I think he was just scared… after what happened.” “He told you what happened?” There was almost a sense of scrutiny in her voice, staggered. “He… Yeah.” I mumbled. “He was never much good at talking.” She was so dazed she sounded somewhat serene. “We… We got pretty close.” It seemed to me as though she hadn’t blinked at all from the moment I had said his name, in such a state of disbelief over what I was telling her, the fact I knew him at all. I’d just known in my heart that I had to tell her, even though it didn’t help either of us. I didn’t even have a way she could reach him, but that was beside the point. She remained quiet for a while, adding some things together from what I’d said and what she knew of her son. “He was in love with you, wasn’t he?” My body rejected the notion rapidly, shaking my head and breaking our eye contact, feeling like I’d been punched in the chest. Over a year, and the damage he had done when he’d spurned my love was still evident. “Uh… No. No, he wasn’t. I-I wish.” I tried to joke breathily, but neither of us laughed. “But I need you to know that… Your son is an incredible man. He’s grown into this… beautiful, kind, amazing person. He’s changed, and I really… I think you should reach out to him.” Her smile was fleeting, but I saw it, truly saw it, and I saw everything it held. I think what I liked about her smile that occurred over my words concerning her son ran deeper than the obvious pride, because within that brief and beautiful smile I noted how she didn’t seem at all surprised by what I’d said about who he’d become since she last saw him. I knew then that she’d always seen the good in him, she had always known how wonderful he was, in spite of his mistakes, but she’d just needed some time. After all those years and all that pain, she had chosen to put herself first, something she hadn’t been able to do when she was caring for all three of them. I appreciated that she had it in her to do that. For years, I had wanted my dad to be selfish enough to put himself first, look after himself, and he hadn’t really managed to do that until recently. I had to respect the way she had been as bold as to love herself enough to know her health had to be put first at some point. She may have cut him off for her own reasons, but she knew Harry was a good person. He always had been. “I’ve tried.” She told me simply. “What? Did you… Did you get through to him?” “I wish.” She faked a smile, repeating words I’d used just as wistfully. “It’s not easy. He’s a renowned artist, which makes him… hard to reach.” I hadn’t really thought of it that way before. For the time he’d been in my life, he was there and he was ours and he was close and familiar, so much so that it was hard to think of him in the sense of him being an artist, a public figure. Of course he’d be difficult to reach from outside of that; even when he used to go away for weeks at a time, he completely disappeared off the radar, made himself inaccessible. Harry would have been well aware of that, which was likely another reason he always felt it was in his hands to reach out to her. “I tried a few times. I got through to his agent once, but I never heard anything back.” “Fuck.” I seethed. “His agent is such a prick. I’ve never even met him but… fuck, I hate him.” I didn’t need to meet him and I had no desire to ever meet him because I knew exactly what he was like, even from the few facts I had, the basic knowledge I’d acquired through what Harry had shared with me about him. He literally wanted to keep Harry in pain and provide hardship, because that was where the art came from. He didn’t care about Harry’s health or happiness, he only cared about the buyers and the money. “Harry doesn’t know that.” I continued once I’d taken a few moments to calm down. “If he knew, he’d have replied. I spoke to him about it more than once. He doesn’t think you’ve even tried since he left for uni.” “I did, but then it got to the point where I felt I had to stop.” “Why?” “Because I didn’t want him to think for even a second, that the only reason I was trying was because of his money. We really struggled when he was growing up, and I didn’t want him to think that I only wanted to see him because he’s doing well for himself. The thought kills me.” An abundance of complications had kept them apart when they so desperately wanted to join themselves again, make amends and rebuild all that was broken. It was heart-breaking to think they had both wanted and tried for the same thing for years and yet it hadn’t happened for them. “That makes sense.” I acknowledged. “It’s… so complicated.” “Is he well? In himself?” “I wish I could tell you.” I started crying again. “I really fucking wish I could tell you. I hope so.” I craved to know the answer to that question myself, but I didn’t know and I wasn’t sure I’d ever know. His existence was now entirely separate from mine. Our only link in that moment appeared to be his mother, who was stood right in front of me holding back tears. I was as clueless as she was. “I’m sorry.” I sobbed. “It’s not your fault. It feels so surreal to speak to someone who knows him so well, knows what happened. I miss him terribly and it’s… As sad as it is, it’s almost comforting. To know he spoke to you. To know he found the courage to talk.” She shuddered. “You have no idea how much that means. That’s how I know he loved you, dearly. It’s been too long, but I know my son very well. He wouldn’t have told you about what happened with our family without feeling as though he was giving you his whole heart. I know it.” Even though I felt I knew more, things that made me immediately want to dismiss what she was saying, I didn’t want to say that to her. Him managing to talk was important, and I didn’t want to shatter that for her because of things that had happened months later. Instead, I tried to embrace what she was saying, beginning to appreciate that even if it hadn’t been love, it had been something significant for both of us. He might not have loved me in the way she thought, or the way I had wished he had, but I’d meant something to him, momentous enough that he had shared parts of himself that he would only hand over to someone he truly trusted. I reached for her hand the way she had reached for mine earlier, squeezing tightly in a rather weak attempt to comfort her, show her that tears were accepted, a sign of her strength more than a moment of weakness. And though our links to one another had only ended with the two of us in tears, we smiled at each other then as though we were grateful it had happened, grateful we’d gotten to talk and be open with each other. We shared something special in those moments. We somehow both ignited and eased the pain simultaneously. I appreciated her presence more than I’d ever be able to word.

Sweet Night

.: Sweet Night :. 

Taehyung x Gender Neutral!Reader 

Your best friend is due to get married on Friday and you’re his best person. But what happens when the dynamic changes? 

ficswithluv | masterlist | requests are open

Words: 4.3k 

WARNINGS: mentions of depression; a disgusting amount of pining; reader and Tae being absolute idiots; implied smut (so Tae’s cheating);

S u n d a y

It was so cliche; being forced to share a bed in this tiny log cabin with your best friend. Seokjin just assumed that because you and Tae were so close you'd both be more than happy to share a double for the weekend. Hell, you'd done it ever since you were little and still sometimes to this day, so why would this weekend be any different? It shouldn't be. Yet there you lay in the darkness, wide awake and listening to Taehyung's breathing as he slept behind you, holding you close to his body as he had done every time you shared a bed since you were children. Arguably it's your fault he can't sleep without cuddling something - but you refuse to accept that accusation.

You weren't quite sure when things began to change for you; when you stopped seeing Taehyung as the greasy little boy with a boxy smile who used to terrorise the neighbour's cat under the guise of loving it and began seeing him as a beautiful young man, who wore that same smile whilst terrorising you. You didn't know when you started to fall helplessly and irrevocably in love with him. It just seemed that one morning you woke up and - poof! - feelings. What you didn't know was that there was a storm raging behind you inside the mind of the very man you had fallen for.

He was awake, eyes open in the darkness and staring at the back of your head as his mind screamed at him in the silence. Like you, he assumed his best friend was asleep and did his best not to disturb you with the never ending torture he was putting himself through. You'd gotten softer as you got older. There was more of you to grab, more of you to snuggle into. Your hair smelled like the cherry blossoms on Jeju Island and it took him back to the Spring you'd spent together on the island while the blossoms were in bloom. Pink petals fell on your hair as they blew off the trees. You turned to look at him and he could have sworn he was shot in the backside with one of Cupid's arrows. You were the most beautiful, most perfect creature he had ever laid his eyes on. He was able to pinpoint the exact moment he realised he was in love with you - it was then. When you were enthralled by the beauty of the nature surrounding you and paying no mind to him. When you were smiling brightly and taking photos with your own camera. He had to take a photo of you while you were so happy; so serene and peaceful.

You weren't allowed near his phone after that day, which was peculiar for the two of you as you'd both been so open with one another since the beginning. The reason for this was his home screen was that picture of you; his absolute favourite picture of you. You were so lost in the blossoms you hadn't noticed him taking your picture and though you were looking at his camera you weren't registering that it was in his hand. He caught your face lit up and partially hidden behind the raining petals while staring directly into his soul with adoration in his eyes. It was that picture he made sure to look at every time he did something on his phone. And it was that picture that remained in his data every single day for two years straight.

But God forbid he ever told you how he felt. Neither of you wanted to ruin this perfect relationship you had with each other and both of you assumed that confessing would do that. You both would rather each other in your lives as a friend than not at all. Which was, perhaps, an even worse thing to do as both of you were miserable and constantly pining after one another.

The members tried to get involved - tried to force you two to confess to each other on multiple occasions; and you almost did. However, the announcement of his most recent girlfriend stopped you and landed you in a month-long episode of depression. He was still with her - they were actually engaged, which was odd considering he was sharing a bed with you right now. Yet nothing would ever happen between you. In your eyes he was in love with her and in his eyes you didn't love him like he loved you.

You remember the day he told you the bad news.

"We're actually getting married." He announced over dinner when it was just the two of you.

You spat your drink out over him. "M-married? As in, in love forever, will one day have 2.5 kids in a three bedroom apartment crawling with dogs and dirty nappies married? Not married as in fake married to shut your parents up married?"

Tae laughed, his boxy smile making you melt. "As in through sickness and in health, richer for poorer until death do us part married, yes."

The richer for poorer line didn't sit well with you. "You asked her already?" He nodded in response. "And she said yes?"

"Don't act so surprised - I am quite the catch you know."

"What else is wrong with the girl besides the obvious?"

Tae groaned, "___."

"I'm sorry. Congratulations are in order, dude! I'm pleased for you." That was a blatant lie. He'd only been dating her for two years. He was only twenty-five... well, twenty-seven in Korean age which made more sense when you thought about it, but still.

"I actually wanted to ask you something."

"You want the funeral song played at the wedding? Sure thing."

"___!" Tae sighed but he was grinning a little at your joke. "We're going to be having a more Westernised wedding than traditional Korean. Obviously we will have the traditional Korean elements like the paebaek but we're going to be taking a more Western spin on it. So I was wondering if you would be my best man - or rather, best person."

You grit your teeth and swallowed the lump in your throat. Force a smile, force a smile! "Of course, Tae-Tae. I'd be honoured."

Cut to you crying on Yoongi's shoulder at 4am because you couldn't bear to go through with the role you had been given yet had no option but to go through with it. You couldn't breathe. You felt like you were trapped and the worst part about it all was that you made this prison yourself. The bars were made with all the words you never said with a lock made from the silence you hid behind. You could scream and scream and scream all you wanted but it was almost too late. You were too late.

This weekend getaway was a macabre farewell to Taehyung's "single" life given that the wedding was on Friday. Everything was all planned out and ready. Rehearsals had been completed. Outfits were chosen. He was really going through with this.

You turned in Taehyung's arms to look at his sleeping face only to be met with his eyes fully open and staring at you.

"I thought I could feel a creep watching me." You teased.

"Your snoring kept me awake. I was thinking of all the ways to kill you so I could get some peace and quiet."

"Oh wow, you can think? I wondered what that burning smell was."

"Hey! I'm smart, you know."

"Oh yeah? What's your IQ?"

"130."

"Alright fine."

"Not just a pretty face."

"I wouldn't even call you that."

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin', young lady."

"Ooh 'young lady'. Sorry, daddy. I'll try to behave."

The smile that was once on Taehyung's face slowly disappeared. He wasn't his usual bubbly self and he hadn't been for the last few weeks. Every time you asked him what was wrong, he automatically answered with "pre-wedding jitters. I'm fine." You knew Taehyung, though; and he wasn't fine. You've seen him when he's fine and he certainly isn't fine now. "Talk to me." You demanded gently. He hesitated. "You know I'm just going to keep asking until you tell me the truth."

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing by marrying her."

"Are you in love with her?"

He was silent for a moment. "I do love her. I'm just not in love with her. That title belongs with someone else."

"So if you aren't in love with her - which you should be, by the way, if you're marrying her - then why would you marry her when you could be perfectly happy with someone else?"

"I don't want to hurt her - and I don't want to throw away my future and the possibility of being a dad one day for a chance with someone else when I'm fairly confident they don't love me back."

"Have they told you that they don't love you?"

"Well... no."

"Well then, there you go."

"They also haven't told me that they do love me like that, though."

"What do you want, Tae?"

"I want... happiness. I want to get married to someone I actually adore rather than someone I couldn't say no to."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't tell you the whole truth. I didn't tell anyone. I didn't ask her to marry me. She asked me to marry her. I couldn't say no to her and risk losing the relationship I grew comfortable in."

"Why lie?"

"I didn't want to be judged. I know you wouldn't I just... I don't know. It felt like the right thing to do."

"Tae-"

"I know' I need to make a decision. I just don't want to. I'm comfortable here."

"Here?"

"In this room where no one can get me in a warm bed next to someone who means the world to me." You didn't know what to say so you decided to remain quiet. That sounded somewhat like a confession but you couldn't get your hopes up. What if it wasn't a confession? What if he was just being his usual, beautiful self? You still weren't confident enough to ask him or tell him your own fragile truth. He was so brave for laying himself bare like that. How could you ever compare? "Would it be alright if I pulled you closer?"

Actions spoke louder than words did, so instead of waiting for him to pull you towards him, you snuggled into his body allowing your head to bury itself in his neck. Even for you two this wasn't normal best friend behaviour.

Do it. Your brain egged you on. Tell him. Now! Yet you still couldn't do it. Even though you had the perfect opportunity to, you just couldn't confess everything to him. You couldn't be as brave as he was just now. What was wrong with you?

"It's your turn." He told you, as though he could read your thoughts. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"It's empty up here, Tae. You know this."

"Hey." Tae pushed you away a little but gently so as not to offend or startle you. "I'm the only one who's allowed to pick on you.

You didn't know who leaned in first. It could very well have been you but time seemed to alter as your lips moved towards one another. They connected; it was gentle at first but things soon began to heat up. You allowed Taehyung to use his tongue as he kissed you, as your bodies pressed together ever tighter until there was no room left. You've read that kissing your best friend was supposed to feel like kissing a sibling - it was meant to feel disgusting and wrong - yet you both couldn't pull away from each other as though strong magnets had been placed in your lips and connected as you kissed. In fact, though you could feel your heart racing and his hands wandering your body, your brain cleared itself of everything. It didn't allow you to concentrate on the fact that you were kissing the man you've loved for a long time. Nor did it remind you that said man had a fiancée waiting for him at home; whom he didn't love and could never. It never occurred to you to tell him to stop even when he started to slot himself in between your legs, when you let him cum inside you and when you held each other to sleep that night finally holding one another as you'd wanted to for years.

You were disappointed on Monday morning when he wasn't beside you when you woke up. You were dejected to discover he wasn't even in the house and you were upset when you found out he returned home alone.

T u e s d a y

Taehyung hadn't spoken to you since Sunday night when you both gave yourselves to one another. To be completely honest, you hadn't tried to get in contact with him either. Sunday had felt so right that you had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that he would end things with his fiancée and would come crawling to you dismayed at hurting her but excited for your future together. You thought you'd see him Monday evening after spending time with her yet you were well into the late hours of Tuesday evening and you'd not heard a peep. Not a single word from him or about him from any of your mutual friends. You didn't know what was going on but you knew that things were awkward between the two of you - and that the wedding was still going ahead. You knew this because his fiancée had sent you a reminder three minutes ago via email that tomorrow was the final wedding rehearsal and that everyone had to be there.

T h u r s d a y

You didn't show up to the final rehearsal - how could you? You had slept with the bride's fiancée and that was the ultimate crime you could commit. How could you show your face to everyone after consenting to such an insensitive act? How could Taehyung more importantly. It was his fault just as much as it as yours and yet his conscience had allowed him to turn up unashamedly pretending to be the dutiful future husband while little did his precious bride-to-be he had been balls deep in someone else.

There was a knock at your door not three hours after the wedding rehearsal had ended and much to your surprise, Park Jimin stood there holding a bag of Tupperware boxes containing your share and the leftovers of the wedding feast. The moment he saw your puffy eyes and your distant smile he knew something big had happened. He had no idea how bad the damage was, but "Tae looks exactly like you do." He told you. "He wasn't himself at the wedding rehearsal but he wouldn't tell me why. Which isn't like him. What happened? Did you two have a falling out or something?"

"Not exactly."

It took Jimin all of three seconds to piece together what would have happened. If you hadn't had an argument, but you both aren't speaking and you didn't show up to the rehearsal today it could only mean one thing. "When did it happen?"

"Sunday night."

"Have you spoken since then?"

"No."

"Why?"

"He obviously doesn't want to, Jimin. If he did then I may have shown up today or at least I'd know where I stand with him. If he wanted me around he would have made an effort but he obviously doesn't. Anyway, it's probably for the best that the slut that fucked her best friend five days before his wedding doesn't show up. I couldn't face tomorrow before all of this happened, how am I supposed to now?"

"By talking to him? Calling him? Ask him to come over so you can talk face-to-face."

"I don't know if I can. It still wouldn't change anything, would it? He would still marry her tomorrow."

"You don't know that."

"I do. That's it now. He no longer wants me around."

Jimin, by the time he left your place that night was absolutely furious. He was angry at you for moping around and not contacting Tae. He was angry at Tae for even getting married to that woman in the first place when it was obvious he was in love with you; and he was livid at Taehyung for not contacting you after the both of you slept together to hash it out and see where your relationship was going to end up. So he contacted Tae himself and gave him an earful down the phone.

Taehyung had no intention of changing his plans.

F r i d a y

You were meant to be at the wedding today but of course you couldn't do it. Simply bringing yourself out of bed should have been enough today let alone watching the man you were desperately in love with marry someone else. Everything hurt; your head, your bones, your heart. How could something as simple as someone getting married take such a toll on your body?

Midday rolled around - the wedding should be starting now. You poured yourself another glass of wine and tried to bury yourself in a horror movie. Your usual self-care movie featured couples happily in love and you couldn't do that to yourself. So instead you opted for movies where couples were horrifically killed in multiple different ways. Yes, this will do just nicely.

Your phone had been ringing all day to the point where you put it on silent and turned it over so you couldn't see the display screen and see which member of the wedding party was trying to get in touch with you today. Going awol was the best thing you could do. Lying would have hurt you more, and turning up may have been deadly. Instead you kept your curtains closed and your phone as far away from you as possible.

That was when you heard it - rapid knocks at the door that forced you out of your blanket burrito on the couch and towards the front door. Had you known who it was you wouldn't have answered the door. Had you known more trouble would come by opening the door you wouldn't have left your spot on the sofa.

Her.

On your doorstep Tae's fiancée stood wearing her puffy, princess wedding dress and makeup running down her face. You know how much money was spent on the artists to put her face together and there it all went rolling down her cheeks.

"Where is he?" She sobbed at you.

"If he's not with you, love then I haven't got a clue."

"He's normally with you when he's hiding from me. He must be in here somewhere."

"Well," you stepped aside, "you're more than welcome to come in and look for him but all you'll find that's keeping me company is my own filth."

"So if he isn't here then where is he?"

"I haven't spoken to him since Sunday, honey. I've no idea. Now, please can you leave so I can wallow in self-pity and you can go ahead and get married?"

"Don't you get it, yet? The wedding's off! He left me at the altar. No one can get in touch with him. No one knows where he is."

This wasn't like Taehyung to just disappear without telling anyone where he was. You knew him better than anyone. At a time like this, if no one could find him it meant he needed to think. He always went to think sat in the grounds of Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul. Since moving to Seoul from Daegu, he had always enjoyed the traditional palaces because of how quiet they were, and how you couldn't hear or see the modern world. It was serene and peaceful and when he had taken the right precautions to cover his face he was unrecognisable and left alone. You had no doubt he'd be there.

"I know."

"Would you go to him?"

"No. I'll tell Jimin where he is and Jimin can go."

"___, please. You're the only one he listens to and talks to. Please."

You relented and did as she asked. Maybe if you could save their relationship the guilt would stop eating you alive. Though, of course, this wasn't guaranteed and there was an even higher chance that you'd end up hurting a lot more for this - and even lose Taehyung forever; but this seemed like the right thing to do. So you showered quickly, dressed and left the house with wet hair making your way to the palace.

You were entering the grounds taking in the smells of nature when you noticed the cherry blossoms. You hadn't realised they were in bloom yet. You were so preoccupied in your little problems you'd forgotten the seasons still changed around you. The palace was so much more beautiful now there was a dusting of pink sprinkled around the grounds. You could fully understand why Taehyung enjoyed coming to this place to think and relax.

You saw him sat there - to you he stuck out like a sore thumb but the tourists completely ignored his presence. Knowing he'd run if he saw you, you took the longer route to get to him, joining him on the bench without asking too afraid he'd get up and walk away before you had chance to say your peace.

"Shouldn't you be getting married now?" You asked him when you'd been sat beside him a little while.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to get summoned. Who was it? Jiminie? Namjoonie-hyung?"

"The woman you left at the altar."

"Ah."

"Though I have to say, I didn't think I'd see a woman in a wedding dress on my doorstep... ever. Thank you for that first."

"You're welcome - I know it's what you've always wanted."

"So why did you do it? Why aren't you getting married today?"

"I had too much to think about."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Taehyung," you said sternly, "don't you dare. You fucked me not even a week ago then shut me out of your life to the point where I thought you didn't want me in it anymore. You then proceed to shut everyone else out, leave your bride at the altar so she comes knocking on my door looking like an absolute mess and dragging me out of my blanket burrito to bring your moping ass back to her, and you aren't even offering me an explanation to tell me why all of this has happened. Neither of us are leaving until I get the answers I'm looking for, Tae. Even if it means we're sat here all night. You're opening up and that's final."

"I fucked up big time, didn't I?" He asked quietly. "You don't have to say it - I know. I've ruined everything because I was afraid. I was afraid to hurt her, afraid to hurt you. Eomma got so excited when I told her I was getting married and I've disappointed her."

"You definitely haven't disappointed your mum, Tae. Not by not getting married anyway. She knows you will one day - she just wants you to be happy and loved. That's all any of us want."

"I got scared." He told you. At this point tears were beginning to form in his eyes. He pitied himself and his decisions of course, but those tears weren't for him. The tears were for everyone he thought he'd disappointed but hurt in the process. "I had what I thought I wanted but when I had that I discovered it wasn't what I wanted at all. I thought I loved her - I thought I wanted to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. It turns out, though, I wanted you instead... and then I had you - finally! Do you know how long I waited to have you? Everything became too real, though, and it freaked me out. It showed me that I wanted you... that my feelings for you hadn't gone and that I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life but I couldn't end it because I couldn't hurt her and I-" He took a deep breath but he began to sob. "I just wanted a forever, and now my forever's falling down and I can't stop it. I'm sorry, ___. I'm so, so sorry!"

His head fell on your shoulder as he wept harder, drawing more attention to him than perhaps he intended but still people didn't realise who he was. Or if they did they let him be which you were grateful for. There was a huge part of you that couldn't believe Tae had just confessed. After all these years of pining and wanting him finally he could be yours. All you had to do was tell him. "Tae, you have absolutely no idea just how much I adore you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you - maybe even marry you if things go well. I love you. I want you too. But you're still engaged."

Taehyung blinked. "I'm not. She doesn't know it yet but I'm ending things with her. You're right, it wasn't fair of me to do that to her. She deserves better than someone who only wants her because he's too afraid to be lonely."

"I'm proud of you, even if you are the world's biggest idiot sometimes."

"Would I - would I ever have a chance with you? You know, when I'm not officially engaged."

"Do you not want to spend some time being single first?"

"I was pretty much single with her. It feels like I'm about to hurt a friend - not a fiancée."

"Take me on a date first and we'll talk about it. And no, before you ask McDonald's does not count as a date."

"You're such a loser."

"Yeah but you love me."

"And you love me."      

Dearest Eylül,

I was pretty intrigued by your name, even though I know it’s probably just an alias name. I looked it up and it’s Turkish for ‘September’. And at the risk of sounding like a basic bitch who finds things of other cultures “exotic”, I’m going to go ahead and say that that’s beautiful.

You know, I’m the kind of person who associates things with months and that really decides the tone of the entire month for me. January, my birthday month, is happy for me. I’m uncharacteristically positive and I feel loved and precious. June is the start of monsoon – my favourite season (even though I quite love all the seasons). I’m very contemplative, poetic and moody then. September, however, was a month that I didn’t connect or relate any thing or emotion to for a very long time. We don’t have Autumn/Fall here so I couldn’t be like #sweaterweather or #pumpkinspicelatte.

But then something changed in September 2017 when I began my first ever internship in one of the biggest media houses of the country. It became my transitory month. A month of growth. A month of new experiences and a lot of decisions. A month of learning and adjusting and meeting new people. September came to mean precious to me. And ever since then, in some way or the other, it’s been pretty much the same every year. And that’s what I want to tell you, Eylül.

18 is such a precious age. It’s the start of so many firsts. An age where you get to go out into the world and explore yourself. I’m already so amazed by how mature you are because trust me, hardly anyone at your age even thinks about saving money, let alone try. And because they don’t try, they never realise they suck at it – and we all suck at it when we begin. I am majorly a finance writer at work and yet I have only now begun to save anything after writing all about it for 1.5+ years. Feel a little like the protagonist in Confessions of a shopaholic, if you’ve seen the movie/read the book.

But I’ll tell you a secret to saving – put away a portion of the money the moment you get it and pretend like it’s gone. It doesn’t exist. You can’t reach for it no matter what. Despite writing super fancy tricks and techniques on how to save money (for work), I’ve personally realised that this technique works the best. And the minute you have some money saved, the sense of independence and confidence you feel goes up and the higher it goes up, the more you want to save.

They always have us believe that money isn’t important but in the last few years of trying this whole “adulting” thing, I can tell you that it’s extremely important. At first level, it gives you security and stability. At the second level it gives you independence. At the third level it lets you take care of those important to you. And finally it lets you live the kind of life you want. I’m going to stop now because this is supposed to be a love letter and not a money lecture.

Of course, I have no idea what’s the situation with you and your family but I know family issues break your heart like nothing else. I’m sorry you feel that your relationship with them is irrecoverable. But I need you to know that sometimes the way people and your dynamics with them change over time surprises you. Maybe not now, maybe not 5 years or even 10 years from now. But at some point, perhaps, you’ll be able to share some form of a positive and mutually respectful relationship with your parents and your sister.

It absolutely warmed my heart to know that you have some people who you can give the honour, love and responsibility of a “best friend” to. I hope they continue to take good care of you and keep adding joy and comfort to your life. I have a feeling it’s going to be an adventurous one full of happening things.

Reading your answers reminded me of one of my favourite poems. It’s a poem that struck a chord with me when I was around 18, and well, it still does. I want to share it with you.

I am a collective of souls. I am all their hopes, all their dreams. I am both their greatest disappointment and most cherished possession. I am everyone and everything. Or at least it used to feel as if I had to be.

I am. Whatever that means. Whatever that is. I don’t know.

Once I was a daughter. Once I was a friend. Maybe even an enemy. Once I was a lover. Once I was comfort. Once I was anger. Once I was an inspiration. Once I was nothing. Once I was all. And now I am. I am less and I am more.

To those who made me, who raised me, I am someone else entirely than who I believe myself to be. I am manipulative. I am a victim. I am weak. I am conniving. I am treacherous. I am not to be trusted. I am a flight risk. And yet I am loved still. In different ways from each of them. But loved anyhow. To those who work with me I am yet again someone else. Already two people, maybe three live within me. To them I am quiet. I am level headed. I am smart. I am invisible.

To my friends, those who think they know everything about me, I am everything. I am loud. I am grace. I am laughter and dirty jokes and a foul mouth. I am the drinker, the smoker. I am reckless. I am adventurous. I am crazy. I am carefree. I am a rebel. And at the same time I am caring. I am warmth. I am heart.

To my doctors I am a diagnosis. I am something to be treated. I am prescriptions and consultations. I am words on a report. I am a risk. I am symptoms and conditions. I am addictions and behavior analyses. I am a case.

And once I was going to be a doctor. I was going to be a wife and a mother. And once I was going to be a singer and an actress. And once I was going to be good. And once I was bad. And now I am. And who am I?

Oh, I am so many. I am everyone’s projections of feelings and dreams. I am an illusion, a mirage. I am no more than a good looking magic trick. I am smoke and mirrors. I am whatever it is they need me to be. And to me I just am. To me, I am enough, whatever it is that I am.

- @biamargalho

So, Eylül, I’d like to end this kind of long letter by telling you that – continue being a Pinterest whore! Aesthetic things are sometimes the only thing to live for. Other than love, of course. Love is what makes us human. And the moment I read your answers, and was washed over with waves of positive and pure energy, I knew you were super human.

So much love, Nikki

PS I hope you soon get to leave and go to whichever place that would feel like home to you.

Guys, February is 29 days of love letters. I’m writing love letters and if you’d like me to write one to you, drop me an email at [email protected]

I wrote this letter based on a few questions Eylül answered. You can read her answers here for context.