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celestialarchon · 4 years

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Celebrating 600+ Followers

i can’t believe i’m writing another celebration post less than two days after my first

this has been rotting in my head all day and might become a series in the future

Genshin Impact x F!Reader | Modernish AU | warning: it’s cute!

“I hope you don’t mind, we gave you a student teacher as well. It’s only fair since you were given the most troublesome class,” Headmistress Ping smiled at you warmly.

“Ah,” You nodded, “Thats fine.”

The elder woman patted your back, “Genshin Academy is truly lucky to have you. Your track record is impressive and you have an extremely rare vision. I think you’ll get along fairly well with Mr. Aether, he’s a good kid.”

You smiled at her, honored by her words. Genshin Academy, the elite and prestigious school, had taken you as a teacher. The education system was impressive and diverse, teaching elementary to college aged students. You were given the first year elementary school students and now a student teacher as well. No matter how troublesome the class may be, having assistance would be appreciated. If it didn’t, the extraordinary pay would make up for any issues you had.

The older woman walked you to the doors of the building and then left you to prepare yourself. Clutching your class roster, you stepped in and made your way to your classroom. When you entered your room, you were greeted by a young blonde man. He introduced himself as your assistant teacher and made some small talk before leaving you to prepare for the day. You appreciated his thoughtfulness as you tidied the room up a bit, smiling at your class pet, Dvalin.

Soon enough, the children poured in and greeted each other and you. Aether returned to the room, beaming at each child. You took attendance, ticking off each name as they all answered. Qiqi, Teucer, Klee, and Diona seemed to be the most lively of them all. They were also marked with asterisks as the worst “troublemakers” but so far things were running smoothly.

“Welcome, my name is Miss Bright,” You beamed at the children, “Let’s have a good year, okay?”

“Wow, you’re very pretty Miss Bright!” An energetic Teucer exclaimed.

Klee squealed, “I’m so excited!”

Diona scoffed and Qiqi nodded in agreement. You went through the motions, following your detailed curriculum perfectly. There were two separate general subjects, academics and control. One was simple enough, teaching the kids by the book. The other was all about assisting your students in controlling and growing their abilities as vision users.

By the end of the day you were exhausted. Soon enough the week flew by. As Friday came, you were exhausted. Most people had made these kids out to be terrible and mischievous, and in some ways they were. Yet, you had already grown very fond of all of them. They were much more tame than you had expected, save for some explosions and outbursts. Now you were stuck as some of the children were late being picked up.

“I hope my big brother gets a girlfriend like Miss Bright. She’s so nice and pretty.” You overheard Teucer whisper to the last three kids.

“Oh yeah!” Klee’s whispers weren’t whispers at all, “She’s like a princess. My brother is a prince. I wish he’d marry Miss Bright.”

“Tch,” Diona intervened, “Honestly, I wish Miss Bright had adopted me instead of that annoying man at home.”

“Qiqi thinks Xiao and Zhongli would like Miss Bright a lot.”

You giggled at their words, they were too sweet. Aether chuckled overhearing them as well and waving you off.

“Go finish up your paperwork, I’ll take care of them.” The cheerful blonde nearly pushed you out the door.

You sighed and made your way to the office up front. Paperwork was such a drag, not nearly as fun as over hearing those brats gossiping. The paperwork ended up taking up the rest of your time. By the time you were done you wanted to scream. As you left the office, a handful of coworkers approached you and invited you out. No was not an option as they insisted you let them treat you.

You were exhausted as they led you to their favorite bar. Aether followed like a lost puppy and you sighed.

“You can’t drink can you?” You questioned him.

“Ahhh,” Aether started but was interrupted.

“It’s fine! I know the owner. He doesn’t have to drink he can just babysit us.” Venti exclaimed.

Poor Aether couldn’t get out of it either. Once you entered the bar, things blurred. Immediately, your coworkers bought you many drinks. Venti was especially aggressive about drinking. The short music teacher was babbling to an extremely handsome bartender with vibrant red hair.

The scarlet haired man seemed to be a bit annoyed by the drunken chaos ensuing. Amber was giggling crazily and the school nurse, Baizhu had cornered a tall man with amber eyes, and Ganyu was petting you. Aether was awkwardly fidgeting, stone cold sober. Eventually, your poor student teacher ended up having to call a cab and carry you home. He was forced to try and navigate to your cozy apartment by unlocking your phone with your drunken face. It took way too many attempts.

You awoke the next day with a pounding headache and over a hundred notifications. The night was still a blur so you proceeded to try and take care of yourself. Aether was kind enough to go out and buy you some pain medicine and left it on your counter with your keys. It was embarrassing how you couldn’t find any memories of your adventures in liquor.

The weekend flew by until Sunday night came and your phone buzzed. You looked down and horror filled your body. Tomorrow was parent conferences. It wasn’t mandatory for parents but encouraged. Suddenly, you were tearing through your apartment trying to prepare for the upcoming doom.

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Before you knew it, parent conferences were upon you. Aether wasn’t attending because it wasn’t mandatory and you insisted he go home and rest. He had done so much for you already, you didn’t want him to suffer through it with you. You looked up as somebody knocked on your class door and opened it to see two beautiful blondes.

“Hello, is this Miss Bright’s room?” The woman’s blue eyes met yours.

“Yes,” You held your hand out, “Hello, I’m Miss Bright.”

The woman shook your hand, “I am Jean, Klee’s guardian. This is her older brother Albedo.”

The young man’s beautiful eyes bore into you as he shook your hand. You stepped aside and gestured to the tables in your room. The two took their seats and almost immediately a tall red haired man sauntered up to you.

“Hello!” His tone was cheerful, “I’m Childe, Teucer’s older brother!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Childe. I am Miss Bright.”

“Ah,” a crooked smile formed on his lips, “The pleasure is all mine. You are just as beautiful as Teucer claimed.”

You blushed and laughed nervously, but before you could answer he was shoved into your room. He turned to glare at the two dark haired men in the doorway. Huffing, he found his way to a table and sat.

“So annoying.” The shorter of the two men scowled.

The taller one sighed, “Hello, Miss Bright. My name is Zhongli, and this is my cousin Xiao. We are Qiqi’s foster family.”

Xiao stomped past you, Zhongli followed him quickly. You didn’t have time to introduce yourself to either of them before they sat down.

“How rude,” A smooth voice came from your door.

Two men stood there, a tan man with dark hair and a very familiar red head. Internally, you groaned at the sight of the bartender. It was going to be a long conference wasn’t it? You were glad you had organized your agenda so well.

“Diluc. Guardian of Diona, and this is my brother Kaeya.” The redhead said almost sternly.

He strolled through the doorway to sit at a table, all four families spread out. Kaeya winked at you and followed his brother. Now you were sure the night would be long.

No other families came, and you were left alone with the strange bunch. In the back of your mind, you were thinking of your roster and the asterisks. The irony in all of it was that the troublemaker’s parents were the only ones who showed. The room was quiet, families only talking among themselves. You cleared your throat and introduced yourself once more, starting in to your very planned speech.

A short time had passed but it felt like years to you. You felt incredibly awkward but continued on. Childe raised his hand which nearly made you laugh but you contained your amusement and paused.

“Yes?” You called out to him.

The lanky man smirked, “I’m sorry but what sort of vision do you use?”

“I will address that later on.” Your voice was kind but also stern.

This response earned several looks from the families listening. All of a sudden, their full attention was on you. The change of atmosphere had put you on edge. You tried to continue on but Childe stood abruptly.

“That’s an interesting response.” He chuckled.

“Tartaglia!” Jean intervened, “Thats enough.”

Kaeya kicked his feet up on the table, “You can’t say you’re not curious though, right? It’s only natural we want to know. This school has just as much focus on vision skills as academic skills.”

You were beginning to grow irritated. The children were more respectful than the adults. Composing yourself, you sighed. Nobody denied Kaeya’s words, although Zhongli and Jean seemed to disapprove of the attitude.

“As i said before i will-“ you were interrupted again by an arrow of water, you easily side stepped it.

Jean stood, sword in hand and glared at Childe. Diluc shoved his brother’s feet off the table and scowled. Albedo yawned while Xiao clicked his tongue. Zhongli merely observed the scene. Childe cackled at Jean which only angered her more as she dove at him.

You opened your mouth to say something but were forced to dodge a cold sword. Kaeya grinned at you but was yanked back by Zhongli. The room was in utter chaos. You gritted your teeth and once more tried to remain calm. Another arrow narrowly missed your ear and you felt yourself become enraged. Kaeya dodged Zhongli and thrust his sword at you but was stopped by a sharp pillar of light.

“That’s enough.” Your voice was cold as you used your own weapon to shove the pushy cryo wielder away from you.

As if by magic, suddenly everyone stopped to stare at you. Quickly, they sat down. Albedo’s eyes were alert now, he was suddenly interested in every word you had to say. Even Xiao seemed to have a better attitude.

You continued your speech without any further interruptions. Finally, the end was in sight.

“And to answer your earlier question,” You pushed your hair back behind your ear to reveal your vision on an earring, “I am a light wielder. I will not take any questions on it. Have a wonderful night and thank you for coming.”

You turned and exited your classroom quickly as murmurs spread across the room. Light visions were only gifted to those who were recognized by multiple gods. Light was a strange element that could mold itself and change to take shape of different elements, although it wasn’t perfect. Elemental mastery took a lot of time and the light could only bend to your will for short periods of time. Using light as anything other than itself could backfire easily. Ontop of the many complications, attaining a light vision meant going through a crisis so terrible that multiple gods had to intervene. It was a blessing and a curse.

As you headed home, shivers ran down your back. You couldn’t help but feel that you were being watched or followed. You shook it off and returned home. It was just paranoid thoughts after a rough night.

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After the conference, you seemed to be plagued by the families. Outside of work you ran into them constantly. It was nerve wracking.

“Miss Bright, Teucer loves you so much. He’d love to see you on the weekend. We could get lunch and then have a play date with him. What do ya say?” Childe grinned at you as you exited your classroom.

“Sorry, sir” An arm slid around your shoulders, “But i’m afraid she has plans for this weekend.”

You looked up to see the school librarian with a tight smile. Lisa was so kind, saving you from his shameless flirting. Although, she often seemed to flirt with you as well. You couldn’t really tell if she was being nice or flirting though.

He scowled and turned. Lisa laughed and squeezed you tighter. She escorted you out of the building, telling you about the new books the library had just received. Her eyes twinkled as you laughed at her puns and asked her questions about being a librarian.

“Excuse me,” A deep voice said “May I have a moment of Miss Bright’s time?”

You turned to see Zhongli, one of the only reasonable guardians you’d met. So far you’d not seen him after the meeting so you felt safer around him. Even Jean had appeared before you several times, though it didn’t seem intentional. You weren’t entirely sure but you’d swore you’d even seen Xiao lurking around when you were out.

“Of course,” You waved Lisa off.

She frowned and kissed your cheek before sauntering off. Zhongli raised his eyebrows as you laughed, clearly embarrassed. The nerve of that woman sometimes.

“Sorry, she’s a friend but she’s very affectionate,” you apologized quickly.

“Hm,” Zhongli nodded and stared at you intently, “I’m sorry to bother you but is there a way I could schedule another meeting with you? I would like to hear about Qiqi’s progress.”

Your heart nearly melted. He was so kind and it was refreshing.

“Of course! How about this weekend?” You beamed at him.

The two of you scheduled a conference lunch and parted ways. From afar, Diluc grimaced. He was curious about Diona’s behavior in school. She was a very moody child. Furthermore, he was curious about you. Kaeya had also pestered you for a date so the scarlet haired man was trying to find the right time to ask you. He didn’t want to come off the way he was sure Kaeya did.

“I would also like to attend the meeting.” Xiao announced to Zhongli once he got into the car.

“Too bad,” Zhongli chuckled “It’s one on one, you’ll have to schedule your own.”

Xiao huffed at his words. He disliked the idea of the two of you doing anything one on one. He couldn’t decide whether he was jealous of you or Zhongli. He decided it was you, since both Qiqi and Zhongli seemed to be infatuated with you. He clicked his tongue, Zhongli merely smiled, and Qiqi demanded coco goat milk.

“Does she like science?” Albedo questioned Klee.

“Miss Bright likes a lot of things I think.” Klee said, ice cream smeared on her face.

“I want to know more.” Albedo stated.

Klee grinned, “More ice cream?”

Albedo nodded, only hoping Jean wouldn’t catch them.

This new job had many opportunities open up for you. With so many people in pursuit of you, who would you choose?

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact imagines #albedo x reader #jean x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #master diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin lisa #genshin liyue #genshin mondstadt

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laraplisetski · 4 years

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Psychiatry and Neurology student s/o.

Request by @midnightangelfox-

How about Chishiya with a fem s/o who's really good at reading emotions and people in general [her specialty is hearts, and when Chishiya talks to them about it she says she's a psychiatry and neuroscience med student, how would he react??

A/n: Thanks for the detailed prompt! (Sorry for taking so long to actually post, it’s been sitting in my asks for a while...oops). I made a little crackheadish at the end. I hope you don't mind. Also (not related to the story) I was washing the dishes and I finally got done with them so I went out of the Kitchen and saw a tray full of dirty dishes and I wanted to die right there and then. please help me

Words: 600

Tags: @nekohwa, @koreaweeb, @mn202zzz, @cheshirekitten87, @milky-neptune, @faith0518, @waifuhqlic, @asmileisalwaysbetter, @fantasticwizardnerd, @imthatchishiyasimp, @kekozume

Okay so you and Chishiya met when you were dragged to the beach by one of the militants because you tried to steal the card of that game from him and tried to run away.

So as always you were threatened to stay at the beach and when you gave away your cards (rather hesitantly I might say) hatter was shocked to see them.

Almost all of them were heart cards mixed in with a few diamonds and clubs.

“I’m sure having me as an executive member would be beneficial, you know, I've got most of the cards to fill your heart collection. All you need now is the ten of hearts and it's done. With my luck in getting heart games I'm sure to get the 10 of hearts soon enough.”

You made use of the situation and Hatters strange fascination with the cards to your advantage and landed yourself a spot in the executives.

Even though Chishiya hadn’t seen you yet he was intrigued as to how you landed yourself a position higher than him on your first day.

He met you at an executive meeting.

At first when he came in he didn't notice you at all until Hatter pointed at you while telling them how you had every heart card except for the 10 of hearts.

That was indeed a shocker and what was more of a shock to Chishiya that he didn't notice you standing in the corner of the room.

After the meeting Chishiya stopped you in the hallway because he wanted to get some information out of you.

As soon as Chishiya stopped you and started talking, you immediately realized from his body language, choice of words and by the curious glint in eyes that he was trying to get something out of you.

You skillfully evaded all his indirect questions and went on your way.

You didn't think much of Chishiya until you went to a game with him and he figured out a good strategy to follow within minutes.

From that day you gained respect for him and he did for you too because of how you did not panic when something went wrong and make adjustments along the way.

He also admired the fact that even though you played so many heart games and most likely sacrificed people you still subtly wanted to save all the people in this game as well.

After that you two approached each other and became ‘friends’ because you two were too proud to call your self a couple.

One day Chishiya asked you how you were so good at heart games and how you always knew what was going on in peoples heads.

“_____, how are you good at reading other people's emotions and thoughts?”

“Hmm.. I studied psychiatry and neuroscience, so basically I studied about the nuances of people's expressions and how to predict what basic emotion they are feeling and how to correlate those emotions with the situation to create a hypothesis on what the person's thinking.”

“Wow. I mean I sort of expected you studied psychiatry or psychology but I didn't think you were smart enough to study neuroscience too.”

“Oh thankyou- wait a fucking minute what the fuck did you just say to me Chishiya Shuntaro some back here mother fucker!”

Bonus-

Kuina: Aren't you like a nice Mira Kano then?

#chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #xreader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #aib #aib prompts #aib headcanons #aib x reader #alice in borderland x reader #aib hcs #chishiya prompt #anyways #bye😀

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 3 years

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Mind the Gap: Three

Shang-Chi laid you carefully on the bed and leaned over to kiss you on the forehead, smiling a little when you fuss at him sleepily. “It’s okay,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of your face tenderly, “I’m only going down stairs.”

When you sit up. Bolt upright suddenly, he reels back. It takes a moment for him to realize that you’re not what’s staring at him. Your eyes are the same unearthly silver they had been. “Let her sleep,” he ordered sharply.

“We,” a voice that is your but… Not yours replies haughtily, “Do not sleep. We are eternal.”

“Not without a body you’re not,” he fired back, frustrated. You just got to sleep. You were just so close to feeling better. Your face doesn’t change, not really. There’s an absence of expression. One that he’d taken as seriousness in that empty field, but now realizes that the Archive probably doesn’t… care enough to make you appear “normal” when speaking. Still, even if the Archive wasn’t sneering at him where he could see it, he could feel it.

“Have care, boy. Our vessel will not belong to you.”

And before he could reply, You fell backwards onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“You’re right about that,” he says quietly, not sure if it can hear him or not. “She doesn’t belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anyone… You might have saved her life once, but now you’re just squatting.” He shakes his head and pulls a blanket over you, carefully tucking you in before turning and heading back downstairs.

__________

Downstairs, he finds party preparations in full swing. There’s food being cooked and more food being ordered from town to be picked up. There’s a small army of people moving tables and arranging lights and torches and building bonfires. It was cozy looking. And impossible for him to tell how many people were coming.

“How is she recovering?”

Shang-Chi turned and faced his father, smiling ruefully, “Not as fast as I’d like. But at least she’s asleep.”

He nodded and gave his son a sympathetic look. “They’re all worried,” he cautioned.

“We should start a club. Y/N can make us jackets.” When his father gave him a look, Shang-Chi smiled a little. “It spoke to me,” he said after a second.

“The Archive? What did It say?”

“It told me that she didn’t belong to me,” he said, restraining an eye roll with effort.

Wenwu frowned, “It challenged you?”

Shang-Chi shook his head, “It wasn’t a challenge. It was a warning. She never even woke up.”

They stood for a long moment and considered the implications of that. But neither one of them had a chance to say more when Katy burst through the screen door with Xialing on her heels. “You have got to see this! There’s fucking werewolves!”

“Werewolves? Kai is a werewolf-”

“No. What? No- I-” Katy is bouncing on the balls of her feet and bolts back out the door.

“A pack,” Xialing said rolling her eyes, more fond than irritated. “Specifically her father’s pack.”

And it’s curiosity more than anything that lures Shang-Chi outside. You never talk about your parents- Not that he can really blame you. He hadn’t talked about his family with you at all. And now? He has the gift of staying in your childhood bedroom. And seeing the things that made you into the woman he loves. Still. Werewolves? He assumes your mother is a witch but- If this going to be a fight? Is it going to upset you?

He walks down the steps to see Kai and who he assumes is your father. You have the same lazy half smile and the same warm eyes that you share with your brother. And for just a second, he wants to turn around and bolt. He’s seen you dismember demons. He’s faced creatures from other dimensions. But somehow? Meeting his Girlfriend’s dad is more terrifying than both those things.

He’s a big man. Tall. Imposing. A solid wall of muscle. A shock of curly dark hair… It was almost like the universe had distilled his every idea of a werewolf into one person. Except for the jaws. And slobber.

“Good Luck,” Xialing snorted quietly.

“Gee thanks,” he said taking a deep breath and stepping forward. He’d been seen, there wasn’t any escape now.

The huge man stepped forward, “I’m Renaud,” he said. His voice a deep rumble, like Thunder. “You, must be Shang-chi.” He took the hand that was offered and shook it, not as roughly as Shang-Chi had expected. And he hadn’t missed that his name had been pronounced correctly. “Thank you, for calling my son… Just because Y/n can handle things on her own doesn’t mean she should.”

“So you found her?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling, “I always know how to find my kids.”

Shang-Chi smiled in spite of himself. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since you’d seen your father. But somethings seemed to be universal. “My father-” he started, But Renaud made an impetuous gesture.

“We’ve met,” he chuckled, taking the hand that Wenwu offered.

“Several times, in fact,” Wenwu said. “And I hope-”

The Werewolf released his hand and rocked back on his heels, “The sins of the father and all that,” he said with another impetuous gesture. “I learned long ago that telling a witch what to do is always a bad idea.”

Shang- Chi looked from one to the other and glanced at Katy and Xialing for help. He had the distinct impression that he was rapidly helping to establish some new international thing. When both the girls shrugged at him at a loss he glanced at Kai who gave him a small nod.

“Dad,” Kai said, “I’d hate to interrupt whatever work meeting is about to happen but… Hospitality Law. You know Grandma and Lea like to et all the stupid formal things out of the way up top.”

Renaud looked at them apologetically and turned to his son, “And then I’d like to see your sister.”

“So far as I know she’s asleep,” Kai said leading him away, the other three wolves that had been standing there watching followed after.

“It’s the middle of the day,” he protested.

“Not for her. She’s still at least a day behind the rest of us.”

Shang-Chi watched them go and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “At least no one at me,” he said, looking back towards the house.

“Werewolves haven’t done that in public for 300 years,” Wenwu snorted.

___________

People arrive steadily. Bringing kids. And food. And drinks. Shang-Chi watches in fascination as all the tables Kai had hefted into place filled with things. And the Coolers he had helped Lea to fill with Ice started keeping drinks cold.

So many faces and names. It’s a whirl and a blur. Still. It doesn’t take long for the kids to warm up and claim him, and Katy as their new playmates. Like all children they’re susceptible to a good story and an infectious laugh. Except for one. There was a little boy. He stayed near an oak tree. A Book over his lap. And he seemed to be watching the goings on, all the flips and little bursts of magical energy with irritation. He didn’t want to play. At least not with them. And while no one bothered him, it was clear that the other kids didn’t want to play with him either.

At least- At least for a while.

When you appeared, a little bleary eyed with your hair in a messy bun and some fresh clothes. His whole face lights up. Shang-Chi hears the shout and watches, grinning as his book goes flying and he launches himself at you, clinging onto your torso like a spider monkey and burying his face in your neck.

And suddenly, the silent boy with the great big book is talking. And talking. And he can’t seem to stop smiling.

“She’s his person,” Lea said smiling a little, handing Shang-Chi a glass of cold lemonade. He looked at her in askance and she smiled a little, “They both understand what it’s like to be the weirdest person in a room full of weirdos,” she explained. “Emmet had no magical ability. And Y/N hears voices and can tear out a Vampire’s heart with her bare hands.”

“Fair enough,” he says nodding, watching you greet the kids with hugs and kisses and declarations that they’re all too tall. “It’s good to know I’m just a novelty.”

Lea grins, “No one can ever take her place with them… It was Kai with the last crop. But Y/N was always his buddy. She’s had him wrapped around her finger since the first time someone put her in his lap.”

“So you’re telling me I should expect a big brother lecture?”

“Maybe. But. It’s more likely that he figures she could take you in a fight and there’s not much point.” The redhead’s eyes sparkle with mischief though. And Shang-Chi chuckles.

“You think so?”

“If she can’t, the Archive can.”

That was a sobering thought. And Shang- Chi took a deep breath. “What- what happened?”

The woman looked at him and for the first time, he considered that she was probably older than her face. Despite the lack of lines her eyes seem… Ancient. “I don’t know if I should tell you. I’ve spent… A long time keeping those details a secret.”

“I just-”

“I know,” she says softly. “You should know. If only… If only so you know she wasn’t always this way. She used to want… She wanted to be in the Olympics. She wanted to be a rockstar… She didn’t want to be this.”

Shang-Chi was quiet. Waiting. He didn’t really know what to say.

“Her mother- When she was born her mother was furious,” Lea said after a long moment. “600 years and so many babies I’ve brought into the world… And the was the only time I’ve ever seen That. She refused to even hold her.”

“Why-”

“Because she was powerful,” Lea said. “I knew- We all knew- the second she took her first breath that she wasn’t just a Witch. And for Clara? That was a betrayal. Clara had spent DECADES trying to amass more power. And here her daughter just had it? Absolutely not. It was unthinkable.”

Shang-Chi winced. “So then-”

“She sold her,” Lea said bitterly. “Put her on the black market and handed her off to the highest bidder.”

“No-”

“What she sold her to though? It was a… a cult. A fringe group. They took children like her and tried to- to change them. And if torture wouldn’t change it, burning. Well. The holy fire would at least make sure they went to heaven.”

He felt himself waver and he leaned against the tree that was at his back. “What the fuck-”

“Indeed,” Lea said nodding. “To make a long story short, It took Kai, Renaud, and her Great Aunt Jet to bring her home. And it cost Jet her life… It was a price she would gladly pay but not everyone feels that Y/N was worth the effort. Including Y/N.”

He looked back towards you, watching as you tossed one of the kids up to Kai who tickled them and tossed them to one of the waiting werewolves who promptly pitched them off the dock and into the lake. But on the edges, he could see the barely masked disapproval. And he knew you. He knew that you knew it was there.

“Lenora has been trying to keep things at bay but… I’d be lying if I said I blamed Y/N for keeping her distance. She loved Jet. We all did. And it’s- it’s hard for her, knowing that if it weren’t for her- She might still be here. She might be able to control the Archive. Instead of being controlled.”

And all he can do is watch you. And hurt. He hurts for who you are now. And for the little girl that you had been. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Shang- Chi,” Lea cautioned, “She says she doesn’t remember but-”

“You don’t know?”

“No. We don’t. And if she’s trying to protect herself-”

“I won’t ask her,” he said, “I don’t think I’d want to remember that either.”

#shang chi #shang-chi x reader #fluff #angst #meet the parents #torture mention

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evanescentjasmine · 4 years

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Writing Egypt and Egyptian Characters: Rusty Quill Gaming Edition

I’ve finally caught up with the Cairo arc of Rusty Quill Gaming, which I was anticipating and dreading both. Fiction set in my country usually reduces it to a caricature of itself, especially when it takes place in the Victorian era, but considering everything they’ve said in their metacasts I was hoping Rusty Quill Gaming was the exception.

It wasn’t.

I’m aware the game world plays fast and loose with history and setting, but the problems in this case are more than just inaccuracies. However, because I want to help fic writers and artists be able to portray Hamid and his family well, this resource will be split into two parts. The first part will tackle details I’ve been asked about with regard to the setting; it may touch on things RQG went wrong, but I’m writing it primarily as a resource for artists and writers. The second part will be my criticism of RQG, and why I found the Cairo arc actively harmful. This includes discussions of Orientalism and some racist text.

I should also preface this by saying I’m not a historian. Everything I say in this resource is a combination of what I grew up with and what I remember from school, supplemented by Google and guesswork. I’ll be explaining my thought process throughout, which can help you see what’s actual history and what’s my extrapolation.

Part One: On Egypt

Historical Context:

Figuring out the history of Egypt in RQG terms is a bit complicated, so bear with me because this will take a while.

In real-world history, Egypt was a Roman then Byzantine province from 30 BC to around the mid 600s AD, at which point the Arab conquest swept through and Egypt became Muslim.

What this means is that when the Meritocrats took down Rome and took over the world, Egypt was still a Roman province. That gives us a several hundred year gap before the Arabs that may have maintained the same culture? Or morphed a little back to some pre-Ptolemaic Ancient Egyptian, given their Meritocrat, Apophis, is named after a great Pharaonic serpent?

Either way, given Hamid’s name and the fact they live in Cairo, the city built by the Arabs, we can assume the Arab conquest still happened somehow, despite having a Meritocrat in Egypt. Maybe a Meritocrat out there is Arab and settled in Egypt for a bit with or before Apophis? Maybe it took a couple-hundred years for the Meritocrats to get all the previous Roman areas under control? Maybe there was a whole war and the Arabs won and settled and eventually they got to a truce or got absorbed into Meritocratic lands?

Many Muslim dynasties ruled throughout the period from the mid 600s to the 1500s. Given the lack of Islam in this world, probably the Arabs were unified by some Pre-Islamic deity/deities and brought them over as well, because I refuse to just sweep everything under the broad Greek God rug.

In the 1500s, another Muslim dynasty took over--this time, from outside of the country, which is why it’s considered separate from all the rest. At this point, Egypt became part of the Ottoman Empire until the 1800s, which is when the Mohammed Ali dynasty started to try and secede and rule independently. And there was a brief blip of the French occupation for two years around then as well.

And, of course, we can’t forget about British colonisation, which started in the late 1800s with a veiled protectorate.

Presumably, since France and Britain are also Meritocratic and it seems like Apophis is currently ruling, we can disregard everything from the Ottomans onward. This changes, or should change, a ton, because Ottoman rule informed a lot of things from fashion to slang to nobility and so on.

What we’re left with is most likely a Cairo that is still Arab but with much more Pharaonic influence, as Apophis is in charge, as well as continuing Greek influence due to the Gods. I am not a Coptic Christian, so I cannot speak to how these changes in history and religions would affect the Coptic language and culture, but no doubt it would still be around.

There would also be a bigger, more long-standing connection to other Meritocratic countries. This explains why Hamid was British-educated and so many people speak such good English without a British occupation to create the power disparity that would make that necessary to rise in Egypt and such a mark of status.

However, this presents several confusing and contradictory aspects of the world building:

Why doesn’t this go both ways? Why aren’t there people in England and France who know Arabic or are influenced by Egypt? All we get is that the Tahan family are big. That’s it. If these countries are equals, it sure doesn’t look like it.

If Apophis is pharaonic and Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous...why would they hollow out a pyramid to put a bank inside? It’s a tomb. It’s made to bury dead kings in a way that follows possibly still-existing cultural and religious beliefs. It’s the equivalent of someone building a bank inside a mausoleum. It’s bizarre.

Relatedly, if Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous, why is Carter mentioning the Rosetta Stone? Why would the knowledge necessary to translate hieroglyphics have been lost?

I mention these questions so fic writers can keep them in mind while writing and, of course, it’s entirely possible to create a workaround. For example, maybe the Rosetta Stone is supposed to be translating something else, like an ancient hidden magic?

Describing Cairo:

I want to make one thing very clear: Cairo is not, despite Alex’s description, like Vegas. While we do certainly have hotels and casinos, to reduce the city to only that is very harmful for reasons I’ll go into at the end of this resource.

Cairo is a very old city with a mix of architectural styles and is very heavily Muslim in real life. In Arabic, its tagline is often “city of a thousand minarets,” so clearly RQG Cairo will be fairly different. Given Apophis’ influence, Ancient Egyptian styles might be more prevalent in Cairo, but very likely not in the form of pyramids unless those pyramids were for the dead. In real life, some buildings do incorporate Ancient Egyptian flavour, usually just in the form of lotus columns or hieroglyphs. These would only be found in public institutions, however, or, frankly, tourist-bait.

Residential buildings tend to be clustered very close together and, since it’s an old city, streets are crowded and winding as the city keeps building on itself and spilling out of its previous bounds. Estates do, of course, exist, but I’d suggest against using Bryn’s example of Alhambra as a setting for the Tahan home. Alhambra is a palace fortress in Spain and, although it’s Andalusian and therefore influenced by Muslim architecture, it’s very different than anything in Egypt. It’s as absurd as saying a posh British character lives in a house that’s basically Versailles and leaving it there. I’ve included images of some Egyptian residential estates below, all from the 1800s to early 1900s.

And here are some photos of Cairo in the 1800s:

As you can see, not quite Vegas.

A fic set in Cairo can certainly still have the Cairo strip with all the casinos, since that’s an aspect of canon, but a place like that would probably be geared more to tourists and foreigners than locals. So long you’re aware of this while writing, and that Cairo would exist beyond it, you should be fine. It might also be worth having characters explore the actual city.

Weather:

The stereotype is that Egypt is just hot and sand year-round. It isn’t. The further south you go, the hotter it will get, so that Upper Egypt (which is in the south, yeah), is hotter than Lower Egypt, which is where Cairo and Alexandria are. Alexandria, by virtue of being on the Mediterranean, has fairly cold (for us) and rainy winters and mild, humid summers. Cairo gets very occasional rain and has harsher summers but is also dryer.

And, of course, a thing to remember is that even in the depths of the desert, the morning might be quite warm but the night will be quite cold as well.

Sandstorm season (called khamaseen) takes place from April - May but in the middle of Cairo it’s more of an annoyance than anything else.

Language:

Since they speak Arabic, it’s important to note that spoken Egyptian Arabic is very different from written Classical Arabic. Egyptian is a mishmash of Arabic, Coptic, a bit of Greek, and a bit of French (and, in the real world, some Turkish too) all smashed together. Accents differ from city to city, and Cairene Arabic is best known for the fact we pronounce the letter jeem as geem (so all soft Gs are turned into hard Gs) and tend to replace the letter qaf with a glottal stop.

This means that a Cairene wouldn’t be called Jamal, they’d be Gamal. A Cairene would pronounce burqa as bur’a.

Since religion plays a big part in language, RQG Egyptian Arabic may be a bit different. For instance, the greeting most people associate with Arabic is “Assalam alaykum” but that’s very specifically Muslim or at least associated with Islam, and might not have been as wide-spread given...y’know, that Islam doesn’t exist. I’m not saying it’s incorrect to use, just explaining the context.

Alternatives could include “Sabah/masa’ el-kheir” which means “Good morning/evening,” and “Naharak/Naharik saeed” which is, “May you have a good day.”

Fashion:

Although this didn’t really feature in RQG, I’ve received a lot of questions about the period’s fashion and honestly it’s my favourite thing ever so I probably would have touched on it anyway. I’ll only go into broad strokes, as there are plenty of regional variations and, again, I’m no expert

Women

Egyptian women covered their heads and sometimes their faces not out of religiosity but out of a cultural expectation of modesty. This may well have come about as a result of the Arab/Muslim cultural majority, as to my knowledge this wasn’t the case in the Greek and Roman periods, but women of all religions covered their heads so that would likely still be the case in RQG’s Arab Egypt.

This isn’t with the hijab we know today. It may have been a cloth or kerchief tied over their heads and then the melaya laf (which is larger cloth, almost a sheet) that they wrap around themselves and over their head, as follows:

The black face-covering was called a burqa or bur’a (not the same as a Muslim burqa, which serves similar modesty functions but is a separate thing) or a yashmak and may have been opaque black, white, or netted, such as in this picture:

Underneath the melaya they would be wearing a long, loose, patterned dress:

Upper class Egyptian women tended to wear Western dresses with a white yashmak that covered their faces and heads. A yashmak is Turkish, however, and without Ottoman influence this style and name might not have caught on in Egypt.

Men

While the melaya laf and yashmak have disappeared from Egypt, the traditional men’s gallabeya and ammama, or turban, are still seen widely today. The gallabeya (or jellabiya, outside of Cairene Arabic) is a long, loose garment with wide sleeves and no collar. It’s in muted, neutral colours, usually lighter ones like white or beige in the summer and navy blue or grey in the winter. You’ll have seen examples of it in the pictures of Cairo above, and here’s another one:

Middle to upper class men and civil servants, however, tended to wear English suits with a tarboosh, or fez. Since fezzes were also a result of Ottoman rule, RQG Egyptians might not wear them.

And yes, impressive moustaches were also very much the fashion.

Names:

The running joke is that Hamid’s name is unnecessarily long, but my name is longer, and I don’t think that’s particularly unusual. We don’t usually go around introducing ourselves with all of them, admittedly, and I’m not sure whether Hamid does this as a way to indicate he’s overly fancy or because Bryn doesn’t realise it, but four names is not long. My ID boasts five, and I know of at least one more.

Arabic naming conventions use patronymics for all children, regardless of gender. What this means is that my name and my brother’s name is identical except for our first.

Mine is Jasmine + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name

And my brother is also First name + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name.

Egyptians do not typically have last names, but an important family may all choose to identify under a name and use that as their last, such as the Tahans. In my case, I use my fifth name as my last name and introduce myself in everyday life as Jasmine Fifth Name. Notably, my brother does not, and goes by First name + Dad’s name instead. This isn’t unusual. On paperwork, however, we still have the same name.

Additionally, Egyptian women do not take their husbands’ last names in marriage, nor do children take any of her names.

I’m not sure why, according to the wiki, Hamid’s sisters seem to have taken their mother’s name. Following Arabic naming conventions, they would all be First Name Saleh Haroun al Tahan, and their father would be Saleh Haroun al Tahan. A possible workaround might be that halflings have their own naming conventions that mean daughters have matronymics and sons patronymics.

A note to podficcers: please google name pronunciations beforehand because Alex and Bryn’s are actually often wrong. Ishak, for instance, is not pronounced Ee-shak. It’s Iss-haaq or Iss-haa’, because of quirks of the Egyptian accent I mentioned earlier.

Part Two: Criticism

I understand it can be difficult to portray a country different from yours with accuracy. I understand the RQG crew will not have had the perspective on Egypt and Cairo that I do by virtue of living here. I do also acknowledge that I’m sure none of this was actively malicious or on purpose.

But it doesn’t have to be on purpose to hurt, frankly, and given how often the RQG crew have talked about their responsibility with a game that’s intended for an audience, I expected better. Bryn has spoken about not wanting to fall into stereotypes for Hamid and, to be fair, by being a non-religious fancyboy Hamid does neatly avoid the religious zealot and the noble (or ignoble) savage routes. Unfortunately, he falls into another, which was hammered home by the portrayal of Cairo and the Tahans as a whole.

Our first glimpse of Cairo, after the sandstorm clears, describes it as “basically Vegas,” with hotels and garish casinos catering to the rich all along the “Cairo strip.” From then on, our only other images of Cairo are vast estates and a pyramid in the desert.

The only named Egyptians we meet are the Tahan family, who are introduced through an absurdly lavish estate compared to the palace fortress of Alhambra, a gambling problem that apparently runs in the family, murder, and corruption, as the head of the family who has already covered up a crime for one son then turns himself in to protect the other.

Then, to top it all off, Hamid is apparently utterly incapable of understanding why letting his brother get away with murder is an issue until the paladins point it out.

Do you see the pattern, here?

I understand this was aiming to be a criticism of the rich and powerful, but the fact remains that the Tahans are the only representation of Egyptians we get. While this may not be harems and hand-chopping levels of Orientalism, the image presented is of Cairo as a den of excessive wealth and vice, and Egyptians as corrupt and immoral.

This isn’t new.

The Middle East and North Africa (as well as India and China and everywhere else considered “the Orient”) has often been tied to images of wealth and overt splendour, usually hand-in-hand with the Oriental despot and corruption. This view went beyond just fiction and influenced the policies with which we were ruled.

Cromer, Consul-General of Egypt, wrote books called Modern Egypt. He had this to say about us:

“The mind of the Oriental, on the other hand, like his picturesque streets, is eminently wanting in symmetry. His reasoning is of the most slipshod description. . . . They are often incapable of drawing the most obvious conclusions from any simple premises of which they may admit the truth.”

In his opinion, our inability to follow logical reason led to us being inherently untruthful and, therefore, immoral. Similarly, British statesman Balfour was of the belief that:

“Lord Cromer’s services during the past quarter of a century have raised Egypt from the lowest pitch of social and economic degradation until it now stands among Oriental nations, I believe, absolutely alone in its prosperity, financial and moral.”

Egypt was under British colonial rule from 1882 - 1952.

You can see, I hope, why a storyline focused on an Egyptian family’s corruption in an Egypt characterised almost entirely by its casinos and one lavish mansion was very uncomfortable. The fact Azu was one of the people trying to explain morality to Hamid keeps it from sliding into a clear East vs West dichotomy, but the fact remains this is a British show featuring British players and this is the story they chose to tell.

The rest was just salt in the wound, really.

I expect mispronounced names and pyramids and jokes about camels in most media, but rarely do the makers of said media then go on to pat themselves on the back for doing their “due diligence” on a metacast about sensitivity.

I see weird naming conventions and mispronounced names and “basically Vegas” and “crocodile steak” and “camel’s milk froyo” and I do not see due diligence.

I see a setting that barely looked past Cleopatra and I do not see due diligence.

I see a storyline that shows only excess and immorality and corruption and I do not see due diligence.

I see a disregard for me and mine, and I do not appreciate it.

Literature I’ve referred to in writing this criticism:

Orientalism (1978), by Edward W. Said

Orientalism in the Victorian Era (2017), a paper by Valerie Kennedy

Orientalism in American Cinema: Providing an Historical and Geographical Context for PostColonial Theory (2010), a thesis by Samuel Scurry

Popular Culture, Orientalism, and Edward Said (2012), an article by Robert Irwin

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #resource #criticism #orientalism #representation #long post

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triptuckers · 3 years

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Drained - Anakin Skywalker

Request: nope Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x reader Summary: The war is taking a toll on everyone, and you’re tired of it. Warnings: mentions of minor injuries (not reader) Word count: 1.3K A/N: I’m 2 followers away from 600 🥺 have this Anakin x reader because I love him so much, enjoy reading!

Weeks. Months. Years. Time didn’t even feel real anymore. The war is still raging on, despite the Jedi’s best efforts to end it. You can tell everyone is growing tired of it. Though no one’s said it out loud, you can tell at least half of the smiles people give you are fake.

You can’t help but to think it must be easy for the clones. Most of the times, you can’t even see their faces because of their helmets. They don’t have to smile reassuringly at everyone they see.

But you’re a Jedi. You’ve got a handful of clones under your command. And they need to see there’s an end to this war, that they can win it, that there’s still hope. You can’t show the signs that are so obviously there.

The only one who ever sees them is Anakin, and you even try to hide them from him. He has enough to worry about. The last thing you’d want, is for him to worry about you as well. You’re a grown woman, you can handle yourself.

You stretch your arms above your head as you walk through the halls of the Temple. Most Jedi used their time at the Temple to get some rest in between missions. You tried to do the same, but most of the times you were at the Temple, either Obi-Wan or Anakin and Ahsoka were on a mission. Resting was not easy when you are worrying about them.

Right now, you’re merely waiting for Master Yoda to tell you he’s got another mission for you. Anakin and Ahsoka are on their way back from a mission, and Obi-Wan got a nasty blaster hit on his last mission, so it was only logical you would be assigned to the next mission.

You’re on your way to the gardens. Your mind is often restless, and meditation is the best solution to it. Though you like your quarters, there’s something about the gardens that you can’t find anywhere else.

You’ve almost reached the gardens, when you see a familiar figure in the distance, also heading for the gardens. You jog to catch up with them.

‘Ahsoka!’ you say, and she turns around. ‘When did you come back?’

‘Hello Master Y/L/N- I mean, hello Y/N.’ she says, correcting herself. You didn’t like to be called “Master Y/L/N” by your friends. ‘We only just got here.’ she looks at you, and answers your question before you’ve asked it. ‘Anakin is in his quarters. His robes got ripped he needed to change.’

‘Thanks!’ you say, and you turn and walk the other way, leaving the gardens behind you.

You and Anakin had developed a habit of checking up on each other when one of you came back from a mission. It had started years ago, back when you were still Padawans. Somehow, it became a second nature to you.

Everyone knew you and Anakin were close. Always checking up on each other, inside jokes, being able to communicate without words. Everyone also had the very strong feeling you and Anakin are a lot more than close friends, but because they couldn’t prove any of it, and nothing ever went wrong, no one would act on their suspicions.

You knock on the door of Anakin’s quarters and wait. A few moments later, it opens, revealing a very tired looking Anakin. He smiles at you and steps aside so you can enter.

‘You look like hell.’ you say. ‘Good to see you too, Y/N/N.’ he says.

You walk up to him and raise your hand to his cheek, where a cut stretches from his temple almost to the corner of his lips.

‘I’m fine.’ he says. ‘It’s nothing, just a little cut.’ ‘Hmm.’ you hum, and Anakin slightly rolls his eyes. ‘I know what hmm means.’ he says. ‘I was careful. No unnecessary risks. Sometimes stuff like this happens, you know that.’ ‘Yeah, I know it does.’ you say, dropping your hand from his cheek.

‘Thought you’d be on a mission when we got back.’ he says, moving to sit on his bed. ‘That makes two of us.’ you say. ‘I’m only waiting for Master Yoda to tell me where I’m going. I was on my way to the gardens to meditate, actually. But then I ran into Ahsoka who told me you were here.’

‘I think a nap would suit you more than meditation right now.’ chuckles Anakin. His eyes travel over your tired eyes and the heavy bags under them. ‘No offence, but you also look like hell.’ he says.

‘I’m fine.’ you say. Anakin raises his eyebrows in doubt. ‘Really.’ you say with a smile.

Anakin looks at you. ‘I can see you’re smiling, but I can sense you’re not fine.’ he says. ‘How can I help?’

You look at him for a while. He’s waiting for your answer as you look at him. And then it’s like everything hits you at once, like a huge wave. Tears fall from your eyes and you feel your knees give out. Anakin catches you before you can hit the ground.

‘Hey, hey, hey, what are all those tears about?’ he says as he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You try to say something, but only sobs escape your lips.

‘Shh.’ says Anakin softly. ‘It’s alright, I’m here, I’ve got you. Let it all out.’

You don’t know how long you sat there, until you finally pull back a bit from Anakin’s embrace to wipe the tears off your cheeks. You move to stand up, but Anakin doesn’t let go of you. You look at him and he smiles at you.

‘Let’s stay like this for a while.’ he says. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

You sigh and let your head fall to his chest. ‘I’m just so tired.’ you say. ‘Of this war, of fighting, all of it. I just want it to be over. I want to walk around the temple and annoy Obi-Wan like we used to do when we were younger. Use my free time to improve my lightsaber skills or just walk around Coruscant and go for a drink. Feels like all I know is war. It used to be different.’

‘I understand.’ says Anakin. ‘These days it feels like this war might never end. But it will. We’ll just have to hold on a little longer. At least we’ve got each other. And it’s alright if it gets too much sometimes. We’re all tired, you’re certainly not alone in this, Y/N.’ says Anakin.

You sigh and lift your head from his chest. ‘How do you do it, Anakin? How do you hold on?’ you say.

‘Well, mostly because of you. I hold on for you.’ says Anakin. ‘Artoo!’

You look up when you hear Artoo approaching you, beeping happily.

‘Show her, buddy.’ says Anakin.

Artoo beeps again before showing a holo. It’s an old picture of you and Anakin that Ahsoka took years ago. You look at it and smile. It was taken before the war, and both you and Anakin are smiling brightly. You two look so young. Unaware of the war that would start, sending you all across the galaxy.

‘They once reset Artoo’s memory, and I was scared to death that had gotten erased as well.’ says Anakin. ‘Thanks Artoo.’ The blue and white droid beeps once and takes off.

You turn back to look at Anakin and smile.

‘Now, that’s a real smile.’ says Anakin and he stands up, pulling you up with him. ‘You didn’t have to show me that, you know.’ you say. ‘Hey, you asked me how I hold on, that’s how.’ says Anakin. ‘Remember years ago, you made me promise to come back to you? I care about you, Y/N, and if it’s up to me, I’m never going to break that promise.’

‘You’re really amazing, you know that right?’ you say. ‘Eh, I try to be.’ says Anakin, making you chuckle. You move closer and wrap your arms around his torso. Anakin rests his chin on your head.

‘Can I stay here tonight?’ you ask. ‘I’ll leave early in the morning. It’s just that your presence is soothing.’ ‘Of course.’ says Anakin. ‘We could both use a good night’s sleep.’

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

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herstarburststories · 4 years

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You Have A Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a call from Y/N, Sam comes back town to help -- and brings Dean with him.

Requests: N°1 heyhey, could you do a Sam x reader where they went to college togehter and later meet again and they realise their feelings for eachother...xx + N°2: can you do a college sam headcanon with medicine student reader

A/N: This was fun! The monster here is mentioned in season 6, when the boys ask Bobby for advice on how to kill it. This is my first Samgirl long imagine, with Dean being the flirty he is. I wrote this almost one year ago, so it's more crude and I'm nervous to be posting it! And my piece for @cajunquandary 's 600 challenge, my prompt was monster of the week. Dividers by @talesmaniac89!

Dean's eyes remained on the road when the bitter statement left his body, tangled with a wry chuckle, “I can't believe you are still in touch with those people.”

“Those people?” Sam arched elbows, slightly skeptical by his brother's tone, “They were my friends, Dean.”

“Sammy, all our friends? Dead. They all die. Or worse.” He glanced at him for a moment, pursing his lips together. It might not be an easy assignment, but was part of the job. Sammy had tried to run away plenty times and always came back, when would he understand? “We don't get to have friends. You should've learned that.”

“They are not our friends, they are my friends. Also, they don't know about the hunting life, they aren't in harm.” Sammy hissed once the other locked his green eyes on the road again. Dean sighed, moving one hand away and up from the steering wheel in a rendition gesture.

“Whatever you say, man. I'm just warning you, this doesn't usually end up good for them.”

Sam scoffed, Dean could get on his nerves sometimes, “We saved many people that got to have a good life.”

“Yeah, but those people didn't know us before that. I told you when you left Stanford--”

“I didn't keep contact, okay!? I just... I just still have a phone that they have the number of. No social media, no calls on birthdays.” Nervously gesticulating, he added, “I know how to keep them safe, Dean.”

“So, old friend?” The eldest Winchester asked after the few minutes of silence that followed Sam's outburst, “Female old friend?”

“Yes. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Dean smirked, and Sam to rolled his eyes at his behavior, “Keep it in your pants.”

He'd let out a malicious laughter before turning on the radio, the first guitar sounds of AC/DC playing in the background.

“I think you'll be the one not keeping it, Sammy.”

“Hello?” The woman in nothing but a towel who had opened the door greeted them with a question, her brown eyes glaring at the two men with clear confusion.

Dean had no shame to check her out, innerly celebrating that she was still wet from her shower. Perhaps visiting Sam's friends wasn't that big mistake. “Hey, you.”

She grimaced at Dean for two seconds before turning her attention to Sam again, sudden recognition written on her face.

“Sam? Sam Winchester?” He nodded, smiling that light-hearted boyish grin at her. Not caring about her dressings, she just threw herself at Sammy, hugging him tightly. “I missed you!” She pulled away only to hit his shoulder. Her short stature didn't match Sam's, but he'd still make a grimace at her attempt of slap. “Why didn't you call? God, your hair grew a lot. Listen, I have some scissors.”

“Tried that, didn't work.” Dean interrupted their reencounter, trying to get in the conversation. An usual lopsided grin on his face, “Dean Winchester, Sam's brother.”

“Layla, Sam's friend.” She gave him a friendly smile in return, opening space for them to pass through the door before closing it, “Come in, I need to change in clothes.”

“I wouldn't even dream of that. Seriously.”

Layla would just wiggle one of her brows at Dean's comments, not impressed by it, “Ele é sempre assim? (Is he always like this?)”

Thankfully, Sam still remembered a bit of his friend's native language. He just chuckled, managing to apologize for Dean's typical Dean behavior, “Unfortunately. Sinto muito. (I'm sorry)”

“(Y/N) is in the kitchen. I'll be right back.” Her accent was thicking stronger duo the comfortability around Sam. Excusing herself, the caramel skinned girl leaded upstairs.

“What did she say?” Dean asked, side glancing at the path Layla had just gone on, not even sure of which language she'd just spoken, much less what was said. Sammy didn't bother replying, satisfied to grin at his obvxion brother. “Dude, come on!”

“Sam!” A well-known voice filled the room as the image of (Y/N) appeared in front of them, dressing your loyal cook's avental. You didn't think twice before jumping on Sam. “I missed you, giant!”

He, like always, caught you with a light-hearted laughter, “I missed you too, cupcake.” You two spent a few moments like this, enjoying each other's warm and long lost touch, until Dean cleared his throat. You finally went back to the ground, embarrassed by having a stranger to see that level of intimacy between you and Sam, “This is Dean, my--”

“Handsome brother. Hello, cupcake.” Dean was so going to tease Sam for the rest of his life for it.

“You really live up for Sam's description.” You giggled, heading towards the kitchen “Come in, I'm baking.”

“So, you and Layla still live together?”

“Most of the time, yes. You know how she is, comes and goes. Never wanted to stay in a place for too long and got a job that supported that.” The boys followed you, Dean examining the kitchen and trying to discover what you were cooking through the smell, while Sam couldn't take his eyes on you, “Apparently, just like you.”

Even though your back was facing them as you checked the food, the bite didn't pass unnoticed, “I had to leave, (Y/N)”

“I understand that, Sam. But you never called or texted. It was like I--” You quickly corrected yourself, “We never existed for you.”

“It's not like that.” Sam sighed, how could he justify? He knew you wouldn't buy a simple excuse. You were smart, and knew him too well to swallow a 'I went on a trip with my brother and just decided that college wasn't my deal' and leave it for that.

“I'm here!” Layla declared, arriving into the room with an excited smile, it was good to have the gang back together. Although, the tangible tension almost made her go back to the shower, “Am I interrupting something?”

“A sitcom DR.” Dean answered with sarcasm, spreading his figure on the chair when you turned around with an apple pie in your hands “What about we talk about the ca-- Is this pie?”

“We heard a scream followed by a loud roar and (Y/N) stayed near the camping part because there was still a signal and I went looking for who it was. When I got there, the thing ran away. Jorge's body... No human did that. His chest was cracked open irregularly, as if it was done by an animal and his heart looked weird. Like it was squeezed and drawn on up somehow?”

“We got a Samia.” Dean stated, relaxing on his spot. Some sault, rosemary and fire would do the job just fine, “Let me guess, it left a clawn near the body or inside it?”

Layla nodded, “Right in the chest or what lasted of it.”

“Are you okay? Finding the body in that state.” A comprehensive manner englobed Sam's question, whom noticed the normality with his friend described finding a shattered body.

“Just some guts.” She shrugged, a grimace was all the reaction they'd get. Crying wouldn't help, neither being terrorized as they expected her too. “I've seen Grey's Anatomy enough not to care about it.”

“Well, I'm literally a medicine student and I am still not okay with that. Especially after you made me go and check the body.” You argued, glaring at your best friend who'd only roll her eyes in response.

“I needed a professional to say if he was dead or not!”

“You need a therapist.”

Dean got up, looking straight at Layla. Time to play the hero in shining armor, “Don't worry with that, we will take care of it.”

Frowning, you were the one to respond, “Do you work for the police now or?”

“Are implying that we investigate it by ourselves?” Your best friend added.

Dean couldn't believe his brother. How the fuck did he let them get inside without saying they didn't know about the hunting business? It was a luck shot that they didn't think much when he said Samia.

“Nope. Not you two. We will do it.” The blonde one said, pointing at them with a smirk.

“I agree, we will do it.” Layla replied, matching his taunt smile.

“Sam, I'm not letting you and your brother do it by yourself. Jorge was my professor, I knew him. Besides, we found the body.” You got on your feet and crossed your arms, waiting for a response. Sam always had a sort of hero complex, ready to help no matter what, but there was no way you'd be letting him go into danger with his brother. Getting in your dormitory to kill a cockroach back then or facing an idiot during a bar fight to protect one of your friends was something, but this? They were talking about looking for an assassin. What if something happened to him? You were the one who called. All on you. The thought of Sam getting hurt for any reason was unbearable, but because of you? You weren't willing to do that.

“You would be in danger, (Y/N). You both.” He tried to explain, internally hoping you'd accept his reasoning and let it go. Sam didn't want you to become one of the friends who knew about this life, you deserve more. He already lost one woman he loved in this city, he couldn't lose another.

You huffed in frustration, “Just like you will!”

“It's different.” As he was terrified of, you insisted. Arms crossed still and eyes locked with his, determined to get something from him. Sam was smart enough to know that you would keep it going. Perhaps he could give you a short explanation, “Me and my brother, we are used to this. We hunt things like that.”

Layla tilted her head to the side. The way Sam talked remembered her of animal hunting, although she highly doubted that was the case, “Little more explanation?'”

“Monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, spirits. The list goes on. Call us crazy. Roll the credits.” Sarcasm saltered every word of Dean's as he gestured up and down with a cocky smile. Everyone glared at him, a special furious look from his brother, “What? I thought they knew what we did and that's why she called.”

“Sam?” Your voice was fragile when you said his name, a demonstration that you would believe him through the fear of the truth, but that he had to say it.

Sam laid his hazel eyes on you. God, how he wished he didn't have to confirm anything, to break your vision of world so abruptly, “Dean is right. Supernatural things are real. I know it sounds--”

“Unbelievable? Problematic? Scary?”

“Yeah, all of them.” Sam offered you a humorless smile, then holding your hand the way he used to when you were nervous about an exam, “But I wouldn't lie to you, cupcake.”

The silence was broken by Layla opening a bottle of Whiskey, pouring them for the three people in the room besides herself. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, while Sam wore a tiny smile and Dean was astonished.

Noticing the eyes glued, the latina just shrugged “What? If you are gonna tell me that Dracula is real and you are a sort of Buffy's apprentice, then we will need some alcohol.”

“Why did you call?” Sammy asked, his brows knotted together, mouth slight open as he waited for your response. “You didn't know what I did. And he wasn't my professor at Stanford. Then why did you call, (Y/N)?”

You could make up a hundred excuses. Lie and say he was the one friend besides Layla that you had somehow a way to get to. Appeal to the excuse of 'I felt something weird about the death and you said I should call if I ever had a problem of any kind'. But for as much as you felt horrible for using a death as a pretext for calling him, that was partially the truth. You already had put yourself into a mess of monsters and a drained heart, it couldn't be scarier than being honest to Sam and to yourself.

At least, you hoped so. But your heart was rushing like when you saw Jorge's body. Jesus, when did love become so morbid?

You took a deep breath, oxygen barely achieving your lungs, and then started to talk.

“I wanted to call you the minute that you left, Sam. I almost did a million times.” You answered, looking down at the bottle of a sort of plant that he was putting in a dark green bag. “I thought about what you could be doing, what was so important that you couldn't send me a message. But you just didn't want to call, I guess.”

“I wanted to call, of course I did.” You scoffed at his statement, looking up to match his eyes, “(Y/N), I'm serious.”

“You didn't even come to Jess' funeral, Sam. Layla said that maybe you needed to leave to clear your mind, that was too much to deal with. But I was so worried, and sad and confused and I wanted to talk to you because you would understand, you always did. About anything. And I wanted to give you some sort of comfort, but--” You lifted your hands and shrugged your shoulder, a broken chuckle leaving your body. “But you weren't here.”

“You stopped leaving messages after two weeks. Calling was gone when it made a moth.” You sniffed. Sam's lips curved into a pure, cautelous grin. God, he was always so sweet. “The emails took two months.”

“You were never good with dates. I gave you a calendar in your freshman week.” Your teeth met your lower lip. He didn't answer, only nodding at your affirmation, omitting the fact that he still had the calendar between latin books and pieces of newspapers, “Yet, you remember all of it.”

Sam leaned forward, holding your hand with all the delicacy you would expect from a sculptor. It had been too long since he hugged you, and his touch made all your skin tickle with warmth. “I missed you too, (Y/N). I thought about you all those years.”

“So, Cupcake?”

"Let's focus on the case, Dean."

“Then you can go back and eat your cupcake?” He remarked with a grin. His brother just huffed, pointing the flashlight through the trees, “So, Layla…”

Sam rolled his eyes, like he usually did when Dean started being too Dean for his liking, “Dean. The case.”

Before he could make another teaseful comment, a roar invaded their audition. The hunters gave each other a quick glance before heading towards the direction of the noise.

Shaking the salt and rosemary mixture in his hands, Dean smirked, “That's it. Time to shine, cupcake.”

“I have to admit. Being patched up by a doctor is better than by Dean.”

A surprised, half relieved laughter came out your body as you finished another stitch on Sam's arm. That boy was unbelievable; openly talking and making jokes about his brother, who was also being patched up by your best friend in company of a bottle of whiskey, while he spoke about Layla's name being a rock song. You were working on a large wound on his shoulder-- which you were sure that was full of dirt from the forest.

Medicine student, but I'll take that complement.” You winked at him, gaining a soft grin from Sammy, “I was expecting more blo-- Why are you smiling? I'm touching a recent wound. It doesn't look dangerous, but I'm sure it is supposed to hurt. A lot.”

Sam's answer came out easily, the bare, vulnerable truth: “I'm happy you are here.”

You looked at him, his hair longer than before, but the soft simper remained on his face. You bit your lip to hold a giggle; her heart dared to hope. What he expected when he said things like this? A quiet contentment spread through his expression while he watched your reaction.

“You should have come home sooner.”

His mouth formed a line, “I don't have a home, (Y/N). It's just Dean, me and the road now.”

“No, Sam.” Shaking your head lightly, you intertwined your fingers with his. His life was dangerous, you couldn't afford the luxury of waiting even more to share what you had finally admitted to yourself in the moment he walked through the door. It didn't seem like the easiest, simpler situation. But the only hard thing you couldn’t go through was to be away from Sam Winchester. He lingered on you for years, you were done letting him run away. It was time to hold his hand and walk together. “You should've come home sooner. To me.”

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the-chick-of-the-air · 3 years

Text

Hello my lovelies!!

Ok let me just start by saying- 600 followers?! Are you kidding?? Thank you all SO much! I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have every single one of you interested enough in my blog to be following me! Thank you thank you thank you!!!🥰🥰

Now I’m gonna repay you by breaking your hearts!

This is my first try at anything super angsty, so if your gonna yell at me afterwards please feel free to do so in the comments or in my ask box or even just reblogging and cursing me in the tags🤣 please let me know what you think!

TW: Major character death, mentions of vomiting and allusions to body mutilation- nothing graphic just vaguely indicated but whatever you are comfortable with is up to you! If any of what I warned makes you uncomfortable please don’t read! Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction!

Update: I’m sorry- I posted this and for some reason the tag list wasn’t working but it should be now! If your username has changed please let me know so I can tag you properly down below!❤️

Summary: Someone important dies. Cardan deals with it. Grab your tissues❤️

Final Resting Place

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” The folk are not in the habit of apologizing, much less for something that is so common. It matters not, Cardan has ceased listening, has heard nothing after The Bomb uttered those damning words.

Jude is dead.

He recalls, distantly, a time when Nicasia drug him halfway to her underwater kingdom, wishing to show him its beauty and splendor. He recalls how helpless he felt, how he could breathe but it wasn’t right. How he was silenced and the pressure from the water was crushing his chest so painfully it didn’t matter if he could breathe or not.

This feels near exactly like that.

“Your Highness?” Someone is asking a question he doesn’t hear. He doesn’t even ask them to repeat themselves. All he can do is state,

“She is to be brought back here. Burned on the pyres.” A Queen’s funeral. The only funerals the folk bothered to observe.

Someone, The Roach, likely, grunts in disapproval, “She… we…are not able to bring the body back. It was…”

Cardan isn’t sure what part of that statement makes his stomach churn the worst, the fact that they just referred to his wife, their queen as a body, or the fact that there apparently isn’t too much of her body to bring back.

He tries not to think, not to guess at what death was so brutal that she doesn’t even have a body left.

And that really is it, isn’t it? She, his fierce, vibrant, deadly queen, who always looked over her shoulder, is- was always so cautious, secretly ruling over a land that was designed to kill her, the mighty Jude Duarte, slayer of the folk-

Killed by something mortal.

In the mortal lands.

Where he sent her.

It was almost laughable, Cardan did laugh. Hysteria bubbling up in his chest like bile, which it might have been because suddenly the churning in his stomach was no longer violent but imminent and he’s throwing himself into the bathing chamber.

He doesn’t hear the court of shadows, her court of shadows, retreating as he retches into the chamber pot.

~.~

Time has lost all meaning.

It’s been days, weeks, months. The days pass in a blur, marked only by those who knew what she meant to him coming to give their condolences. Like it could lessen the pain of her being gone. Lessen the pain that came with the knowledge that this was his fault.

It was so ironic it hurt. Had he not exiled her to the mortal lands for her protection, she would have still been alive, ruling where she belonged, right by his side.

And now, she would never get to rule her kingdom openly. She would never share his throne, his crown, his name, his bed again.

She was gone before he got to have her.

And it was his own damn fault.

He refused to hold any audience with Taryn. It wasn’t fair, her twin was dead and she was parading around wearing her face. He knew that should he take one look at her, he would break beyond recognition.

The only thing keeping him alive on the throne being Jude’s memory, how she would have wanted, commanded him to keep ruling, even if she wasn’t there to do it with him.

He did allow an audience with Viviane, once. She had all but demanded it and would hardly take no for an answer. She arrived, eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking as terrible as he felt which didn’t seem fair either.

He wanted to be alone in his pain, for it to be all his own, because no one could understand, could relate to how he felt for her. Why should they share in his grief? The newest plate of armor he has cast over his heart?

She wasted no time on condolences, which in itself was strangely comforting. She got straight to the point, “You missed the funeral.”

“A mortal tradition.” His voice was hoarse with disuse. Had he gone so long without speaking to anyone? That didn’t seem possible.

“Dammit Cardan! She would have wanted you there.” Her anger was refreshing, a nice change of pace compared to the complete emptiness that was left behind in the shape of a mortal footprint upon his heart.

He almost wants to disagree, but that would make no sense. The folk can’t lie, not even half-fae.

When he doesn’t respond, Vivi crosses her arms, “Will you at least come visit her? Say your goodbyes? You have to say yes, we both know you need it.”

And painful as it was, she was right. The one thing that hurt worse than Jude being dead, knowing that it was because of him, was that he didn’t get to say goodbye. That all his letters to her went unanswered. That she died without knowing how much he needed her. How much he missed her and all she was to him. How much he…

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he silently rises and follows Vivi to his queen’s final resting place.

~.~

The mortal world is bright and loud and reeks of iron and is so alive it feels audacious. How dare anyone else continue living when someone from this place, someone so important, so above them was forced to forfeit that right?

The plot of land where she- what’s left of her- is laid to rest is small. The headstone sits, new and clean, next to two more that are dulled with age.

Justin and Eva Duarte.

Madoc had somehow procured graves for the two mortals he slaughtered, and now their youngest daughter lay beside them.

They are standing there for ten minutes before Vivi speaks, “You know, when someone visits the grave of someone they love, they usually look at it.” Her voice is monotone as she stares at the slab of stone sitting at the head of a patch of newly sprouted grass.

He’s not sure he can. If he looks, if he sees there is in fact a final stop, a final holding place for this restless mortal, then he will know it is real. That this wasn’t all some elaborate trick or punishment of her own making to get back at him for her banishment.

Foolish as it is, that was a dark hope buried deep inside him. That she was really still there, biding her time, waiting until he was just ruined enough to waltz back into his life to teach him a well deserved lesson. Perhaps on gratitude, on not taking things for granted.

It would be such a Jude thing to do.

A hand rests on his shoulder and he nearly flinches away, “I’ll give you a minute.”

Her footsteps recede, utterly fae and silent. So unlike the ones he desperately wishes to hear a final time.

It takes him maybe two minutes more for his eyes to finally find the headstone. He is shocked to find he can barely read what is inscribed upon it through tears that have filled his eyes.

Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

Beloved sister and wife

2001-2019

His tears come in earnest, then. How had he never known she took his name as well? Had cared enough to do so? Or was this something her sisters did to spite him? He pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle any sobs trying to break free.

Cautiously, so cautious she would be proud, he runs his fingers over the inscription of her name- their name. When he knows his voice will be steady, he speaks.

“Well, wife.” He presses his eyes closed as a fresh wave of tears pushes at his senses, “I doubt either of us saw it coming to this.” Gently, he tugs something out of the satchel he brought with him.

“It was yours. For you to wear upon your return. For when you came home.” He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he carefully laid the crown down at the foot of the headstone, glamoured so mortals would see it as a pile of painted rocks.

“I guess in a way, I got what you thought I wanted. For you to…” He can’t even bring himself to say it. He had never wanted this. When in palace lessons, he thought that dreams plagued with her scent, her voice, her touch had been the most horrid nightmares. He was wrong, this was far worse than any dream he had of her angry face, her soft hair. This was a nightmare terrifying enough to cripple the strongest of men.

“Well. I guess it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I wish I could take back what I said about you in our childhood. That you would return to the earth, worm food.” He shudders, recalling that he had said those things while imagining that they would have followed a long life. One filled with her aging slowly due to living in Elfhame. Secret imaginings he only allowed himself in the darkest hours of the night- ones where he was by her side and they wreaked havoc together for the rest of their long, full lives. His next words are whispered, “I never imagined it would happen so soon.”

His hand returns to the headstone, gripping the cool rock tightly.

There is nothing left to say aside from one final message. Nothing left to do other than leave this place and continue on in his immortality, letting her fade into the backs of everyone’s memory as the Last Mortal Queen.

Taking a final shaky breath, Cardan utters the truth he had spent nearly his whole life repressing, trying to lie his way around. The words he now so desperately wishes he had said to her before he cast her out of their home in hopes of preventing this very thing from happening.

With one final look upon the place his wife, his queen is forever to rest upon, he whispers,

“I love you.”

~.~

Years and years and years later, young children of the gentry sit in their history lessons amongst their mortal classmates, and learn of the beautiful, treacherous life that was led by the Last Mortal Queen, Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

And that is that! Did I make you cry? Do you want to throw crumpled tissues at my head? Let me know!❤️ (I left out details of Jude’s death on purpose, it’s up to your imagination to come up with what happened to her, sorry for pain😬)

Tag list:

As always, please let me know through the comments or my inbox or any other way you are comfortable with and let me know if you wish to be added to my list so you can be alerted to my future works!

@maleckanejnessienjurdansolangelo @woodsbeyond1 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell @andromeddea @dressedindustandshadows @thesirenwashere @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @unidentifiedblackthorn @iminsanenotobsessed @df3ndyr @brittneyal @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @fuzzypineapples-blog @nahthanks @charrise @thefolkofthefic @theviolettulip @embersfromink @kittkatandbooboo

Till next time, loves!🥰

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jobean12-blog · 4 years

Text

Written in the Stars

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 823

Summary: You and Bucky cuddle under the stars and he tells you about what he’s been reading.

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club drunk drabbles and the amazing prompt below from @buckobucho I couldn’t pass it up! I love nothing more than Bucky and space! I hope you like this! Thank you all for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Soft and sweet fluffy love, lots of space talk and Bucky being a space nerd, a real corny joke but it’s just full of fluff and love and cuddles.

Searching for the marshmallows you scratch your head and try to remember where you last saw them. “Hey Buck..” You turn around and he’s standing there with a smile and the bag of marshmallows. “They were in the top cabinet and I know you can’t reach.” You kiss him and take the bag, ripping it open and loading the mugs full, “is that enough?” His enthusiastic thumbs up are all you need, and you grab the hot chocolate and follow him up the stairs to the roof.

He leads you to the small loveseat and canopy you two set up, complete with string lights, pillows and some fluffy blankets. Setting the mugs down on the small table you sit next to Bucky and curl into his side, nuzzling under his metal arm so he can hold you close. “Are you warm enough baby girl?” You slip your hand under his sweatshirt and snuggle against him, “yes, thank you.”

You spot his favorite book, ‘A Brief History of Time,’ on the table and poke him in the side, “reading again?” Handing you your mug he takes a sip before sighing, “it’s so incredible. It’s all so much bigger than us, you know.” You giggle at his melted marshmallow mustache and ask, “will you tell me about what you read?” His visibly brightens and shifts his body so he’s facing you and pulls you into his lap, “I would love to!”

With your hot chocolate clutched between your hands and Bucky’s warm body pressed close to yours you listen to him talk animatedly about the solar system and all the amazing facts about space. “Did you know that Uranus rotates on it’s side?! So, the Earth’s angle of rotation is at 23.5 degrees right? But Uranus…it rotates at a nearly a 90-degree angle from its plane of orbit!” For a moment you’re quiet then you screech, “wait so it’s basically titled on it’s side??” Bucky smirks, “YES!”

“AND! You know how we have tectonic movement on Earth, and we lose crust and make new crust depending on the type of movement?” You nod, once again remembering past conversations you two have had. “Well, Mercury appears to have fault lines that are relatively new which means pieces of the crust are moving and the planet is contracting!” Your heart swells to see him so happy, his excitement so completely contagious that you can’t help but hug him more tightly.

“I was reading about Neutron stars last night and they can spin 600 times per second! 600! PER SECOND! They are actually the smallest and densest stars, so it makes sense.” You raise a brow, “does it now?” Your smile is bright when he rolls his eyes, “yes, it does, do you want me to explain the physics behind it?” You lean a little closer, “I love when you talk physics to me. Let’s hear it.”

Bucky happily accepts your challenge. “Well, you know how when an ice skater does a spin and they lift their arms above their head, they start to spin faster- they sort of ‘shrink’ their body? Neutron stars do the same thing. They are collapsed stars, so their radius shrinks and when that happens they start to spin faster and faster. It’s called the conservation of angular momentum.”

You take the mug out of his fingers and set it down next to yours, circling your arms around his neck, “that makes sense, thank you for explaining it so nicely. I really do love when you teach me about this stuff.” His warm hands sneak under your shirt and gently rub your back, “oh I have something else you might like!”

Your lips brush his in a barely there kiss, “and what’s that?” His eyes flutter closed, and he kisses you, soft at first but it quickly becomes heated when you roll your hips. His tongue parts your lips and you moan, massaging the back of his neck with your fingertips. By the time you pull away you’re dizzy with need, unable to stop the way your body reacts to him. “I want to hear this, I really do.”

He laughs, ghosting his lips along your neck and whispering, “there may be this rocky planet that has a radius about twice that of Earth and the surface may be made of graphite and…diamond.” You pull back, eyeing him suspiciously, “no way?” His lips chase yours, “yep, a whole planet made out of diamonds!” You tilt your head to give him better access, “wow. I love that.”

Your words come out breathy as he continues trailing his warm lips over your skin, “I thought so. Now, whaddya say I dock my rocket at your space station?” Before you can scold him for his ridiculous but funny joke he silences you with a passionate kiss and under the blanket of stars, as his night meets your day, you fall in love all over again.

@addikted-2-dopamine @bugsbucky @breezy1415 @bisousbucky @buckstaybucky @book-dragon-13 @buckys-henley @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @harrysthiccthighss @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @loricameback @lorilane33 @lookiamtrying @lokilvrr @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @tuiccim @this-kitten-is-smitten @the-wayward-robot @saiyanprincessswanie @yansi1923

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peaches-writes · 4 years

Text

full circle

description: even if you’ve only known him for eight years, if you think about it, you’ve actually been with minho for most of his entire life. member: minho / lee know genre: fluff, historical au, vampire au, time traveler au, college au, neighbour au, best friends to lovers au, fem reader, this is a longer and revised version of reliable source word count: 10k warnings: explicit language, mentions of animal murder, war, death, blood, alcohol note: yay a third entry to the seven hundred and one universe! oc from seven hundred and one universe is named shiyeon here while the oc from kart rider is named soojung! + this prolly has a lot of plot holes & is just generally mediocre but whatever it’s fiction lmao + @skzwriternet

present: February 13, 2020

Even before he saw you on the other side of his apartment door at 9 PM with all of your work materials and equipment, Minho already knew full well that this day was coming. He’s always known most days are coming. He‘s just more excited for this in particular than the rest, given its inevitability that he‘s lived through for almost 600 years of his total 900 years as a vampire. Tonight, as evidenced by the Google Docs displayed on your open laptop, is the night you’d travel to the past for your doctorate thesis and meet his past self for the first time.

He just didn’t expect this in particular to be on the day right before Valentine’s Day, when he and his two other housemates have decided to make a complete mess out of the kitchen with all of the chocolate they’ve been trying to make.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you at this hour but I was thinking—ew, what’s that smell?” You instinctively and bluntly ask first, sniffing the air escaping his side of the door. Minho could smell it too, strongly at that, and the older vampire could only purse his lips and widen his eyes at you. “Are you guys—please don’t tell me you’re actually cooking humans this ti—“

At that, he immediately shakes his head and breaks out into a nervous laugh, pulling the door closer to his body and effectively hiding Jisung scrambling around for the exhaust (and maybe the fire extinguisher too, for some reason) before you could peer over his shoulder. “No, no! It’s just Jisung and Jeongin—well, it’s mostly Jeongin then he dragged Jisung in on it—they’re making Valentine’s Day chocolates for...some people.”

You could sense the slight bluff in his tone (supported further by the little heart-shaped candy on his cheek) and that at least one of those ‘some people’ he could possibly be referring to is one of your friends, Nari, whom Jeongin has not-so-discreetly been pining over since your second year of college, but you easily let it slide. In the eight years you’ve known the vampires who live and own your apartment complex, after all, you’ve definitely walked in on much wilder things than a couple of questionably burnt chocolates (chocolates aren’t even cooked, as far as you’re concerned!). “Um, okay, sure, I’ll trust you with that.” You squint your eyes at him. “Anyway, can I come in? I need your help with something.”

Minho exhales a small sigh of relief which he turns into a smile for you before looking over his shoulder once to make sure that the coast is clear then opening the door wide once again. “Yeah, come on in.” He concludes next, picking up your backpack on the floor and your heavy laptop in your hands as you cross the threshold. “But it’s really messy in the common area right now so we’ll have to stay in my room, if that’s okay with you.”

You’ve never been in his room, not even when you first became friends in your first year of college eight years ago or on game nights when he always asks for help taking out his Play Station sets. All of Jisung and Jeongin’s jokes of his serial killer tendencies when you’re not around could be true for all you know and it’s the only thing going through your head as you wordlessly follow him inside his apartment, pondering on the thought.

In response, Minho bites down a laugh between his teeth next to you as he accidentally reads your thoughts and when you catch him in the act, you make sure to elbow him with your freer arm, careful of your drafts binder. “Ya, stop reading my thoughts without permission, you asshole!” You scold him in a sharp hiss right as you pass Jisung and Jeongin in the open doorway leading to the kitchen. You greet the two courteously and even make a salute to the fallen chocolates, to which Minho laughs even more at and the two boys groan in protest. “Well, shit, it really is...bad.”

“I know, poor people who’ll get that tomorrow.” Minho shrugs.

“You could say Nari, it’s fine, I won’t tell.” You shrug back with a laugh, taking this time to take the candy off of his cheek and walking past him and the other two boys with a parting wave before Jeongin could even process that you caught up to him and his crush so easily.

Minho, meanwhile, clears his throat awkwardly and follows you, in a poor attempt to hide his immediate flustered expression. Some of the chocolates were actually for you but he won’t tell you that too, of course.

Especially not when you arrive in his room not long after, nodding in approval at its cleanliness that clearly contrasts the current state of his kitchen and, by a slight extension, living room. “Glad you to know you don’t murder people in your room, Min. See? We get closer as friends would every day.”

“I’ve been on blood bag and animal diet since we met, you brat. Don’t tease like that.” Minho rolls his eyes, prompting you to laugh.

“So, where do I work, then?” You ask after, turning to Minho on your side and accidentally brushing your shoulders together.

He gestures to his work table in response, naturally placing his other hand on your back and guiding you towards it. He really hopes you’d be oblivious to the way he’s growing more flustered this time. He doesn’t let you in his room for a reason, after all (that being it’s too intimate in his opinion). “You can use my desk.” He instructs you after, following you and pulling an extra chair for himself once you’ve reached his desk. Placing your backpack next to his work bag then your laptop on top of the table, he then asks, “So, are you travelling now or later?”

He already knew you’d do it sometime now, he really just wanted to ask to keep the conversation going. He even has your hanbok ready—bought from Changbin’s wife’s shop last month.

But, to you, he seems to have miscalculated the situation a little bit as a realization dawns on you while you’re taking out the portable time travel machine from your backpack. It’s actually just a watch but your professors insist on keeping them in really fancy boxes. “I can do it now if it’s oka—wait, I haven’t even told you that part yet! How do you know I’m not just going to hoard your wi-fi?” You exclaim mid-thought, your mouth falling agape and forming an ‘o’ shape in surprise. You know he wasn’t reading your mind just now because, usually, Minho would announce his presence obnoxiously loud in your head or make the face he did a while back but he didn’t this time. “So you’re going to agree to my request? Is that it?”

Eyes equally wide in his mistake, Minho falls back in his chair and ends up fumbling around with his words. “Well—no, I mean, you always only need my help when you’re about to time travel so—!” He tries his best to cover up which only elicits a victorious smile from you. “Ugh, fine, you got me!”

“So, you’ll help me? I mean, past you, technically.” You ask again for confirmation, sitting down on your own chair this time as you fully take out the portable machine and place it on your lap. “I have to tell you, though, that I need to travel to three other periods for my thesis this time. Is that okay?”

Minho props his elbow on the arm rest and nods against his knuckles. “You already know the answer to that, I think.”

You chuckle at this. If eight years of knowing him has taught you anything, it’s to pay attention to the smallest details. He’s clairvoyant, after all, and you need to up him at his own game every now and then somehow. “Then, I’ll also need the proper attire. Haseul said that she can’t take in commissions at the moment so I couldn’t—“

“In the closet, furthest right.” Minho gestures to the walk-in closet behind him in defeat. “You can use that for all the times you’ll go, too.”

“Have I told you that you’re my bestest friend in the world today? Even more than Nari, and she’s a witch, might I add!” You dramatically announce with a grin, handing him the machine’s box before standing up and making a beeline to the double doors on the other side of his bed. When you follow his instructions and find a pink and blue hanbok along with a floral hairpin on the very end of his closet, you then take it out and head to the open bathroom across the room. “Oh, wow, you even got my size right! You must’ve been preparing for this for a long time, huh?”

He really has—but, again, Minho is too stubborn to admit it to your face. “Just tell me if it’s uncomfortable or something.” He simply replies to you instead before you could close the door and change. Once he hears you acknowledge him with a hum before clicking the door to a lock, he then quickly prepares the time travel watch for you (by the way he remembers you doing it in front of him countless of times while you were cramming for a school requirement with him) then places it next to your laptop in exchange for his phone to message the rest of his friends.

minho [9:13 PM]: its happening

chan [9:14 PM]: you’re confessing?

hyunjin [9:14 PM]: hey that’s great! good for you hyung!!!

minho [9:16 PM]: no! y/n’s making the travel to 1388!

changbin [9:18 PM]: chan u know not to get ur hopes up w minho alr we all know he’s hopeless

minho [9:21 PM]: just bc ur alr married u brat

Changbin was still typing out a reply in the groupchat when you came out of the bathroom in your hanbok, laughing behind your hand when Minho looks up and momentarily gapes at you. “Why are you looking at me like that, weirdo?” You furrow your brows as you approach, smacking his arm before sitting down on his bed right behind him with a slight struggle. Peering over his shoulder, you smile appreciatively at noticing the time machine already set up. “And I see you’ve set up the machine without breaking anything this time! Progress!”

Minho scoffs, swiveling his wheeled chair to face you properly before gesturing to the hairpin in your hands. “You don’t like the hairpin?”

"I don’t know why you’re making me wear a hairpin that looks like a wedding heirloom.” You frown. Not to mention, from it’s material, you could tell that it’s new as well, meaning it was designed this way on purpose. “Won’t it attract too much attention?”

Minho doesn’t know why you eventually came to him in the past wearing the hairpin too. He thought his future self was being ridiculous then (and he still does in the moment). “I don’t know, either,” He tells you truthfully this time, standing up from his chair to place it on your tightly-made bun. “But you did come wearing it eventually so just go with the flow, I guess? I don’t know, what do your sci-fi movies say?”

You scoff at him, puffing out the heat rising up to your cheeks at the proximity. He could read your mind if he wants to but he doesn’t seem to be in the moment, even when his lips are gently fanning air into your ear as he fixes the hairpin with utmost care. “I guess I’ll just have to follow your instincts, then.” You sigh in defeat. “I can’t miss a detail, even if it’s weird.”

“Right. I was there in the moment before you right now.” He smiles cheekily before sitting back down on his chair, passing you your time travel box after. “Ready to go?”

You nod, fixing your collar one last time before receiving the machine from his hands. “You haven’t met me in the 1388, right?”

“The first time you met me in the past was in the 1910s for that graduate thesis of yours and the oldest version of me that you’ve met so far was the one from the the 1740s.” Minho corrects, recalling your fourth year thesis some eight years ago. “But the first time I met you in my history was for this doctorate.”

Your eyes light up at this. “Really? You’re meeting me for the first time now?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“We’ll have differing first impressions after this!” You point out to which he snickers. “Also, I haven’t met this version of you, you might be a snob in 1388 and think I’m weird or something.”

Minho personally doesn’t think his first impression of you will ever change, no matter when you’ll meet in time. He’ll always think positively of you. “I was already turned for a long time, then. I haven’t met Chan and the others but I’ve seen and heard of weirder things than a time traveler.” He assures you. “Now, go, so I can help Jisung and Jeongin in the kitchen.”

Rolling your eyes, you then set the date to January 1388 (you notice Minho’s already set the location while you were in the bathroom) before bidding a temporary goodbye to him, disappearing into thin air with the watch on your wrist right after. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

In the blink of an eye, you’re already in a flea market somewhere in Seoul (then named Hanseong, you made sure to remember that well out of all of your history and anthropology notes).

past: January 1388

You easily find 1388 Minho wandering around the flea market, a crowd of court men and women following him religiously as he examines the crops, livestock, and flowers being sold in stalls. The sight makes you scoff in disbelief, even more when you approach and see how he ignores each and every one of them up close.

You know Minho isn’t the one of royal blood in his current coven of vampires (that’s Hyunjin—you know it well from the amount of times you’ve pestered him in your other time travels while he was sulking over his present day fiancée) but he has mentioned in passing once about being popular in the palace court, a socialite of his time if you will.

But then, who could blame him? He’s just that handsome and charming.

“Minho...Lee Minho...” You try calling for him in the crowd but to no avail, the slight embarrassment of following the crowd creeping up to you. It reminds you a bit of when you first saw him in your timeline, your first year of college and his fourth year (because Chan keeps insisting that he goes to university every now and then to pass the time) when all kinds of students would also follow him around at the campus library. It’s annoying, regardless of wherever you are in the world timeline. “Excuse me, Lee Minho!”

He only turns to you when you raise your voice, an eyebrow momentarily raised until your eyes meet and a look seemingly of recognition crosses his features.

You became friends with him as an older vampire but why is he more intimidating as a younger one? It’s probably the rest of the crowd’s eyes being on you because of your sudden interruption. Either way, you forcibly gulp down your nervousness and call for him again. “Lee Minho?”

“Yes?”

“C-Can I—Can I talk to you for a moment?” You gesture for him to follow you, his piercing gaze making your hands shake a bit. This is probably what Chan meant when he said Minho was a bit scary when he first met him in the 1400s.

Minho follows you, anyway, which alleviates and heightens your nervousness at the same time. The crowd would’ve followed if not for him glaring at them not to right before you turned to the main entrance of the flea market where a few people were loitering around at. He feels like he knows you from somewhere which, if you knew about, you’d tell him that that’s impossible since, chronologically, you haven’t met him before this.

Once you’re away from the majority of the market crowd, only then do you turn to properly face him and his expectant eyes. He’s still looks the same as he does in the present, just more curious, seeing as you’re a stranger for now. It’s comforting, somehow, so much so that it relaxes you and eventually makes you laugh as well.

“What’s so funny?” He asks you without any hint of malice once you uncontrollably burst into giggles, prompting you to lift your hand up to your mouth. Already developing his clairvoyant abilities at this time period, he could easily tell by the unfamiliar terms in your thoughts and the way you hold yourself up that you were different—far more different than everyone around you. “And who are you?”

You wave your other hand dismissively, taking a step back to recuperate. You end up giggling a few more times before you could manage to take a deep breath and exhale slowly by turning your eyes away from Minho momentarily. “I’m sorry, I’m Y/N and I—sorry! It’s just so...it’s a bit weird!”

“Definitely.” Though your answer is unsatisfactory, the boy nods anyway. “And how do you know my name?”

“I know you from the futur—wait, you can tell that it’s a bit weird too?” You raise an eyebrow and fold your arms over your chest. “It’s…sometime in the 1300s—“

“Thirteen eighty-eight.”

“Right.” You nodded at his correction with a dry scoff, piquing his interest further. “It’s only 1388 and you’re already this good of a clairvoyant?”

Minho was instinctively taken aback with you. His present self forgot to tell you that clairvoyance doesn’t have an established name in this time yet. “How did you—? What? Huh, well…the hanbok—the hanbok’s a bit of a giveaway too, I guess. It looks different from what the court women usually wear.”

You then briefly glanced down at your hanbok, a pout resting on your features when you look back up at Minho again. “Really? But you—I mean, my source told me that this was accurate.” Come to think of it, you didn’t really check the attire thoroughly since you really needed to travel immediately to cram your paper. You’ll have to give 2020 Minho an earful about this later. “Ah, guess it’s my fault for not double-checking. I was in a bit of a rush to come here.”

Minho from 1388, however, shakes his head at you in disapproval then briefly begins pointing out the different design patterns that looked foreign to him. “And this hairpin,” He pointed your hair accessory last, from what you can remember at present. There’s an unreadable expression in his face, one you’re too flustered to interpret as amusement. “This looks like a wedding heirloom but…a bit futuristic for my time, if that makes sense. I don’t suppose you wanted to come here disguised as someone’s wife, right? That’d attract more attention to you.”

And with that, you almost immediately deflate right in front of him with a defeated sigh and he smirks teasingly in return. To the passersby at the flea market, people could’ve easily mistaken the two of you for a quarreling married couple. “So that’s how it is.” You surrender easily, your arms loosening. “I guess even at this time you’re clairvoyant and smart. How annoying.”

His smirk grows even more triumphantly at this. “So, why did you come here?” He asks next. He figures out halfway through your rambles that it’s probably better to go along with you than to insist on his own questions, at least until you’ve organized your thoughts a little bit better.

You ponder on the question for a moment, shifting your weight between the balls of your feet to pass the time. When you do answer, you explain, “Well, it’s a little crazy but my source has said that you’ll be okay with it so...believe it or not, I’m from the future and doing my doctorate thesis on a dynasty that’s about to establish itself around this time.” When 1388 Minho doesn’t immediately and visibly freak out as he would on your worst case scenario, you take this as your cue to continue. “You’re still alive in my time but I can’t tell you what our relationship is or it’ll be spoilers! All I can say is that you’ve helped me passed a lot of my major requirements in school and if you’re okay with it, you can help me with this one too!”

The Minho in front of you thinks that you probably know him very well to know that he’s not easily spooked with anything out of the ordinary, not even by someone who claims to be from the future and is doing an academic paper about the past. You did mention knowing his personal history, as well, which effectively gained you his trust. He just hopes you’re not married or something in the future as the hairpin seems to be trying to imply or else he’d consider this first meeting of yours a bit chaotic for his liking. “Sure. Where do you have to be right now?”

Really? It’s that easy? Is all you can think about, much to Minho’s curiosity when he reads your thoughts. “O-Oh, well, um...if you can take me to the palace courts, that would be...cool, I mean nice.”

And so, Minho from 1388 ends up showing you around the palace courts for the next six months that follows (but, really, it’s just merely six minutes in the present time), even introducing you to people whom you ended up entrusting with your data-gathering. You almost mentioned Hyunjin and his fiancé, Shiyeon, on more than one occasion, remembering how the vampire would be with Seungmin already by this time while the immortal witch would be travelling around Korea, but opted not to instead when you also remember that no one from this time period really liked talking about the previous fire that killed most of Hyunjin’s family.

Besides, you didn’t want to mess up the timeline and have Minho meet Hyunjin before he could meet Chan, even when he would ask you about it right before you left.

“How am I in the future, by the way? Am I allowed to ask that?” Minho asks you curiously as you hold out your watch in front of him. It was starting to get annoying, having to hide it in your bell sleeves all the time. “And what am I doing by then?”

“I can’t say anything specific that’s important.” You scrunch up your nose disapprovingly to which Minho only glares at you in response. “Just trust me, you’re sort of happy with where you are in my present day. You don’t have to worry about it now, it’s still 600 years away, anyway.”

Minho mistakenly interprets that as the two of you being married in the future. He doesn’t have feelings for you in this time period but he takes your word not to worry about it until it’s happened.

Besides, you seem kind. He’ll see something in you eventually.

“When will I see you again, then?”

“Um...around 1418, probably?” You answer with a hint of uncertainty as you faintly recall your thesis’ outline. You needed to see King Sejeong’s court next. “You’ll still be here, right?”

Minho initially had plans on moving to a nearby province but he nods, anyway, thinking that that could wait for a few more years. “Yeah.”

And with that, you’re gone again.

present: February 13, 2020

When you get back to the present day, it’s only 9:35 PM, almost six minutes since you left, but Minho’s already in the kitchen, helping Jisung and Jeongin clean up their mess.

“Back already?” Minho asks with a blood bag between his teeth when he catches sight of you by the open doorway as he wipes the kitchen island clean, immediately noticing the grin you wear on your face. “What did you think?”

“You were much chiller then!” You exclaim, ducking past Jeongin and Jisung to sit down right across Minho on the countertop. “I mean, you were a bit scary at first with the whole glaring thing you got going on but you were very calm and collected, then, like you weren’t even phased about me being from the future!”

Of course he would be at that time, he was literally there when it happened (and also because he’s always had a feeling even from before that you’d meet but that’s also on his long list of things he won’t tell you). Instead, you see him quirk an eyebrow, throwing the rag towel in his hand to the side to pick up his phone and resume his Kart Rider. “Weirdoes vibe with weirdoes, I guess.” He shrugs, chuckling when you protest at this. “Anyway, you got what you need, right?”

You nod happily with a hum, propping an elbow up on the now clean counter and resting your cheek on your palm. “I have enough to write about later when you’re done cleaning.”

“Ya, Y/N, if you’re gonna stick around at least help us clean the kitchen!” Jisung complains as he drags a wet mop across the floor behind you.

“And why would I do that? I didn’t even help you make the chocolates!”

“Because Minho’s been making cho—” Before Jisung could finish his sentence, however, Minho throws his rag towel towards the younger vampire, aiming it directly to his face. “Ya!”

You shake your head in disbelief, turning to Minho again after. “Anyway, I have to fix my notes for a bit and you need to tell me where else I went for this paper!”

Also because you were kinda cute back then, you think to yourself more as an after-thought, not really expecting for Minho to accidentally hear it.

Now, Minho knows why he made you wear the hairpin. Is it normal to be jealous of one’s past self?

present: February 16, 2020

Minho offers you a whole bag of your favorite mini Toblerones the next time that you knock on his door to work on your thesis. The Valentine’s Day homemade chocolates were a fail even when Felix was eventually brought in last-minute (then you just had to disappear for a whole day with Nari and Shiyeon, too), so he rushed to the nearest convenience store to buy you the Toblerones as soon as you told him that you’ll come over again to pester him with his Internet connection and ask him more about your work.

Maybe this is really it, the one you were talking about in his past.

“You’re being nice to me with all this chocolate.” You squint your eyes with a piece of the chocolate in between your teeth suspiciously across the dining table as you work, head buried in papers to revise and dusty reference books. Your professor has you on travel limit as everyone else, only allowing you up to four actual visits to the past, hence the mountainous stacks of library books and journals you’ve borrowed from both the campus library and Changbin’s personal collection. “What do you need? Ya, I’m talking to you.”

Minho, busy in his own academic work on his laptop, only peeks up at you belatedly when he’s reaching out for his blood bag buried underneath all of your papers. “What?”

“What are the chocolates for?” You ask straightforwardly this time, picking up another mini Toblerone off the yellow bag. “Last time you bought me something from the convenience store was when you ate the squirrel I was feeding in the back garden.”

Minho only shrugs as nonchalantly as he could, though he can’t help but feel a little flustered as evidenced by the way his eyes briefly widen. The squirrel incident was a long time ago and yet you still won’t let it go. “Can’t I be nice?” He simply asks back in answer to which you scoff at. He laughs along with you, anyway. “Jeongin bought it then gave me the extra, probably to give to you since I can’t really eat it.”

You wanted to tell him that Nari actually shared the chocolates Jeongin gave her and they were definitely not Toblerones but you let it slide again. For some reason, it’s funny seeing Minho try to cover up something right in front of your face and thinking that he’s doing a good job at it. He’s trained you to see past his bullshit for the past 8 years, he should really know better. “Um...right.” You nod teasingly. “I’m gonna pretend you’re not looking very suspicious right now.”

Minho could clearly tell that you’re doubting him even without reading you but he does nothing more to it. He’s too deep in his bullshit already and you both know that.

Truth is, he was just fulfilling something you mentioned in your second visit to him (and probably as a way to give you something on Valentine’s Day even if it’s two days late).

“Anyway, when are you making the travel again?”

“Right after I finish summarizing this book.”

And it happens to come full circle today, too. What luck does your best friend have.

past: August 1418

You jump between days in a span of six years this time (which is approximately an hour and twelve minutes back in the present time) with the help of Minho, Chan, and Changbin from 1418 helping you by preparing an entire closet of clothes and coming up with a very detailed background story of how you were a distant relative of Chan’s from the province in the case that someone asked about you. The other two boys were more than happy to welcome you despite how foreign time travel was to them in this time period because, apparently, you’re all Minho’s ever talked about since they met.

“It’s nice knowing that Minho didn’t fever dreamed you up or something.” Changbin joked to you once towards the end of the six years of your data-gathering, to which he received a full apple shoved in his mouth from Minho. In this time period, his wife, Haseul, was still in that sleeping curse you still don’t understand fully at present, carefully laid in a tomb somewhere in the capital. Fortunately, you managed to avoid telling him that she wakes up seven centuries later (and that they get married) throughout your entire stay and avoided spoilers. “Vampires who’ve lived long like us tend to do that sometimes. Heck, even Chan does that lots of times these days, telling us about this immortal person he’s been looking for a while now. I guess it’s the human brain’s natural response to having a lot of memories.”

“Minho remembers me just fine in the present, though.” You shrug as you re-write your interview notes, to which Minho mumbles a ‘Really?’ at. When you nod at him, he immediately rolls his eyes up in thought. You want to tell them that the person Chan’s been looking for at this time’s also real (and that he and said person, Eunhye, even live together now), too, but you decide against it later on for spoiler reasons again. “You have really good memory in the present, you even bought me Toblerones today.”

“What are those?”

A realization dawns on you right there and then, a small smile forming on your lips to which Minho quirks an eyebrow at and Changbin immediately asks you about. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just know that they’re my favorite.” You simply answer, standing up from the front porch of the inn you’ve been staying at and dusting the dirt off of your new hanbok. You remind yourself to ask Minho and Changbin about where these are at present later on. “Anyway, I’m off! I need to interview a few court people then I’ll be off your hairs again soon!”

When it’s time for you to leave again, Minho’s still pestering you about what Toblerones are.

“Come on, tell me!” He protests, going as far as holding your wrist where your watch is before you could escape. “Y/N!”

You only grin up at him mischievously, gently swatting his hand away. “February 16, 2020! Also, make me ramen and coffee when I get back to the other side, please! I’d really like that!”

present: February 16, 2020

A steaming bowl of ramen and a warm cup of miraculously decently-brewed coffee are on the kitchen countertop by the time you come back, just as you asked him six hundred years in the past. What you didn’t expect, however, was the way your notes and references have also been organized neatly on the table while you were away and Minho dozing off on the nearby sofa in the open living room (he really likes genuine sleep lately which you’re yet to ask him as to why). You make sure to check that he really is sleeping by pinching his nose (and getting no response which is his usual indication of actual sleep) before placing the blanket he has reserved for you in his apartment over his hunched over body.

“You don’t really need it,” You whisper tiredly, tucking the blanket close to his neck. His skin is naturally cold, as any normal vampire’s, but you’ve slowly grown accustomed to it over the years. “but how else am I going to say thank you for remembering my request after six hundred years? You’re going above and beyond anyone I’ve ever met, Lee Minho, you should stop raising the bar too high for men like this.”

three

past: May 1592

“Are you sure you want to be here?” Minho from 1592 asks you right after you’ve reappeared in his house. Chan is out for work and Changbin is visiting Haseul on this particular day, leaving him to tend to their main house alone. “We’re in the middle of—”

“A Japanese invasion, I know.” You finish his thought for him, casually plopping down on the front porch right next to him and gingerly receiving the cup of tea he offers you. The garden he’s been trying to tend the last time you were around hasn’t made any significant progress even when an entire century has passed. You want to think it’s because the boys have been travelling elsewhere right before you returned but you also know it’s because they haven’t met Seungmin and Hyunjin yet. Those two are still probably travelling with Shiyeon. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re—” Minho leans away and gazes back incredulously at you. He can already tell, with his own abilities, that you’re not thinking of what he’s thinking but he asks anyway to fully confirm. “I’m not letting you go to the frontlines if that’s what you’re going to ask me this time.”

You chuckle at his genuinely mortified expression as you sip on your tea, making the boy furrow his brows at you. You really must be crazy. “You already know I’m not thinking of that! Though, I will ask you crazier things in the distant future.” You assure him. “I’ll only be staying for a year, six years again at most since I only need to complete a few interviews and fact-check a few books.”

“Good.” Minho sighs in relief, taking a long sip of his tea as well. Even in 1592, the only human beverage Minho could stand is tea, you’re quick to notice. “That’s...that’s a relief.”

“Why would you even be worried about going to the field, you’re immorta—ya, perhaps, do you you care about me?” You tease, grinning widely at the sudden realization. “We have a really messed-up timeline but you already care about me as early as now, that’s cute!”

Minho from this time period could only roll his eyes at you against his sudden flustered feeling. If he was curious of your relationship with his future self when you first met, he’s curious as to how his future self keeps up with you this time. “Because you might be important to me in the future or something.” He bluffs to which you only chuckle fondly at. “I can’t really tell since you won’t tell me exactly how I know you in the future.”

“Well, what am I to you now?”

“A friend.” And he means it truthfully.

You’re momentarily taken aback, Minho sees even when you’re quick to hide it. Present Minho won’t even call you his best friend like you do to him. “Then just—just remember that until then.” You point out, smiling when you gaze over to his side and see his sincere expression. Something leaps in your chest at hearing him say those words without his usual playful tone of voice. It’s not what you’ve always been hoping for but it’s a start. “Won’t it be better if you just find out in the moment when it does happen?”

Minho wants to tell you that he can’t wait but his teasing nature always gets the best of him first, “Hm, maybe you don’t actually know me at all in the future, that’s why you’re always being vague when I ask you.”

You scoff, smacking his arm. “Ya!”

“So, really, what are you to me in the future?” He insists anyway, swiftly dodging your hits until he’s caught your wrist in his hands. “Friend? Best friend?”

A lover? He wanted to add further but he bites his tongue back just in time.

“I always call you my best friend but I’ve yet to hear the same thing from you so, honestly, how would I know when you’re so secretive with your true feelings all the time! I’m even surprised you answered my question just now.” You frown, unintentionally coming off as bitter in your tone of voice as you retract your hand back to your side. You place your cup down as well, careful of the remaining tea so it doesn’t accidentally spill on your hanbok. At this moment, you miss the way Minho’s expression turns into confusion. “If it helps, though, I can only tell you that you always let me in your house to hoard the wi-fi—which you don’t have to know about right now!—and you’ve kept me around long enough to know when you’re trying to lie to me or read my thoughts with your clairvoyance thing going on.”

Minho nods along, humming in thought. “So you’re a parasite?”

You inhale a deep breath, focusing all of your energy into restraining yourself from hitting him for a second time. “You’ve called me worse.” You sigh with a controlled laugh. “Expired dinner and ex-wife who has nowhere else to go are my personal favorites.”

Next to you, Minho’s eyes genuinely widen in curiosity. “We got married?”

“Um, no? No, no, it’s an expression!” You shake your head and snicker despite the contrasting heat on your neck. Minho grows flustered at sensing the blood rushing up to your face. “I don’t even know if you’re capable of romantic love, dude. You’re always kinda everywhere and nowhere.”

Minho’s not offended, though, especially not when you try to apologize after at realizing that you’re not as close with this version of him as you are with the version you know in your own time. “It’s fine.” He assures you with a shrug, knowing full well that you were just kidding around. “I’m guessing with that that I’m still single five centuries later.”

“That and a bit of a flirt, too.” You clarify before his words fully process in your head. “Wait, so that means you haven’t dated even before this?”

Minho shakes his head. “No, no one’s caught my eye yet.”

You purse your lips in thought of this new revelation. It’s in moments like this, when you’re meeting past selves of your immortal friends that you realize just how little you actually know of them. “Huh, I didn’t peg you as the type.”

“The type to what?”

You shrug slowly, hunching over in your seat. “To be the fall in love just once type? I don’t know...”

Chan has mentioned to you once about Minho believing in soulmates but you were quick to dismiss that then. Remembering that now, maybe he is right.

And, as if he has been reading your thoughts this entire time, Minho agrees with a nod. “Then, now you know. If you’ve lived as long as I have, soulmates are really nice to think about.”

“But you always tease me about it...you from the future at least.” You pout. “Again, no offense, it’s just that—from the way I know you in my time, you’re very confusing.”

When you glance over at Minho, you see him sit up straighter and lean closer to you again, your shoulders bumping against his as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. “Really? How am I confusing? Maybe I can help.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Ah, but that’s unfair. You’ll take note of this in the future again.”

“Your time’s five hundred years away, I’m sure I’ll forget this with time.” He assures you to no avail as evidenced by your squinted eyes.

“You remembered my ramen and coffee request from last time, though.” You argue back, making his eyes light up.

“I will?”

You nod, placing a finger on his forehead and pushing his face away from yours. “Yeah, so I don’t trust you. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Minho doesn’t bother you anymore about it for the rest of your one-year stay, which you’re more than grateful for.

present: February 22, 2020

He does, however, teases you about it again when you’re back to the present. Closing in on you in one of his bone-crushing hugs when you reappear in his room, he asks, “So, how was meeting me in the 1500s this time, best friend?”

“Excuse me, what did you say?” You furrow your brows at him, your arms going limp on your sides while your entire body freezes on the spot.

“I just called you my best friend.” He repeats casually with a shrug. “Why?”

Minho purposely omits the fact that he double-checked his old journals to make sure that you just time traveled to that period when you mentioned to him how he’s never called you his best friend. He’s been waiting for this opportunity to set it right with you since he didn’t know much of the context back then.

You shake your head in response, reluctantly hugging him back once you’ve regained feeling in your arms again. “Nothing, it’s just...”

“Dude, you’re acting like past me and present me are different people.” He chuckles against your hair, squeezing your frame once before pulling away. “So, we’re good, right? You’re not bitter about the whole best friend thing now?”

You frown, slapping his elbow to which he only chuckles at. “Who said I was bitter?”

“You did in 1592!” He teases, his mischievous grin softening into a fond smile after. “But seriously...sorry about that. I just think it’s cheesy to say most of the time but you really are...my best friend now I guess—maybe until you die in 50 years.”

Minho then runs away before you could even protest, prompting you to chase him out of his room and into the hallway. “Ya, Lee Minho! I’m going to kill you first, you brat!”

But you know that deep in your heart that he’s only joking (and also because Jeongin has gossiped to you once about accidentally reading one of Minho’s journal entries from the 1700s once about meeting someone who shares your name but was already working as a professor in university and may or may not already be a vampire).

present: February 29, 2020

“Okay, to refresh...” You mumble as you adjust the watch on your wrist and the switchblade Minho insisted on you keeping in your pants’ pockets. Next to you, said vampire’s is sprawled on his bed, a reviewer and highlighter in hand. “In 1895, Hyunjin was following Shiyeon around the world, Seungmin was starting out his photography career, Soojung was taking a beauty nap, Haseul was still sleeping, Changbin was going on a Jack the Killer rampage somewhere in Europe, Jisung was still a newborn, Felix, and Jeongin haven’t joined you yet, and Chan was...learning yoga with Eunhye? Is that right?”

“And I’ve met all versions of you by this time.” Minho adds in absentmindedly before going back to chanting his notes over and over again. He really doesn’t need to since he really has sharp memory these days but you let him study for whatever it is he’s studying, anyway, so he has something else to do besides Kart Rider and annoying his other friends. “Just tell past me who I’m meeting when you arrive since you know how I kept mixing graduate studies you and college thesis you up all the time.”

“That’s...you guys have lived lives.” You puff out a tired breath, making Minho glance up to you briefly and chuckle. “Sometimes, it makes me and Nari feel so small.”

“It’s not much.” The boy shrugs back. “It personally hasn’t felt that long.”

“And why’s that?” You hum curiously.

He mumbles something behind his paper but you don’t hear it well. When you ask him about it, he only shakes his head and kicks you with his socket foot, urging you to go already.

Minho actually said, “It’s because you’ve been with me the entire time.” but he’ll just tell you all about it later when you come back.

With a scoff, you then swat his foot away and bid him goodbye. “Fine, see you later then.”

“I’ll organize your notes until then. Bye.”

past: July 1895

Minho sets your location on your watch to his house, now renovated to what was considered modern then. You’ve been here countless of times, albeit in different time periods of your own past (the last being when you had to ask for his help in the 1860s about your graduate thesis), but you’ve never been here in the 1890s, not when a newborn Jisung had the self-control of a toddler and immediately tried pouncing on you the moment he smelled you on their front lawn.

Now you know what the switchblade is for (and the one time Jisung kept apologizing to you in the 1910s).

“Ji, calm down!” Minho growls in annoyance, holding the younger boy by his arms as he drags him back inside the house. He can feel your anxiousness increase just by looking at this unfamiliar side of Jisung, prompting him to send you an apologizing look. “Sorry, um, Y/N, I—”

“I-It’s...it’s fine.” You assure shakily with a curt nod, taking a step back as well when Jisung tries regaining two steps towards you again. “I think I came in the wrong day.”

“It depends. What are you here for?” He asks, his voice growing faint as he successfully manages to lock Jisung inside the house. He then quickly jogs back to you, examining your face for any recognizable hints of where you could be from.

“Doctorate thesis.” You answer for him, earning you a look of realization from him.

“Oh, it’s you.” He smiles in relief. You remember distinctly how these were also the very same words he told you when you first met him in a time travel. “I was thinking you’d never come back.”

You feign a frown in front of him, making him laugh. “Why? Did you think I wouldn’t finish my studies?”

“It’s just that the next time you came back, from my point of view, is when you were only in college to ask me about the 1810s.” He clarifies, to which you nod in understanding. So he does remember. “I thought it weird at first that you didn’t come back sooner to finish your doctorate.”

“Ah, well, you in 2020 has been a big help—well, him and a shit ton of books.” You chuckle awkwardly. “This is my last trip for my doctorate, actually, since I have the smallest amount of resources for Queen Min.”

“T-This is—this is your last?”

You smirk at his briefly dejected expression, elbowing him gently. “Why do you look so sad? You already know we’ll meet again in the future. Plus, you’ll still meet younger versions of me later on for my college requirements which is a bit confusing to hear right now but you’ll get it later!”

Minho opens his mouth to speak, initially to tell you something about being frustrated that he’s only seen glimpses (and different versions) of you throughout his life so far, but he’s suddenly cut off by Jisung banging wildly against the front door, making him and you flinch.

“Um...what if we deal with Jisung first?” You suggest. “I assure you we’re all going to be great friends in the future but no one really told me that this would happen.”

Minho nods slowly next to you, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yeah, we should probably take care of him first before your thesis. You could spare five minutes to sit down, right?”

“Definitely.”

And so, you spend the rest of your first day getting Jisung to calm down in your presence.

present: February 29, 2020

“Chan, babe, please, please, please promise that you won’t flinch when we use the party poppers later.” Eunhye sighs exasperatedly as she leads everyone into organizing the kitchen and living room. “Felix, good job on the cookies by the way! They turned out really well! Jisung, hurry up with that banner!”

“Babe, I don’t flinch!” Chan yells across the hallway as he re-checks if everyone will have enough party hats, trumpets, and poppers for later.

“Yes you do!”

“What’s so significant about today, anyway?” Nari asks Jeongin as the two enter the apartment with boxes upon boxes of blood bags and alcoholic drinks. “Besides Y/N finishing their thesis, of course.”

Shiyeon and Hyunjin follow closely behind with take-out boxes of chicken wings. “Because today is Y/N’s last time travel before they become a professor! A lot of good things are going to happen after, trust me.” Shiyeon answers with a wink.

“How come you know all of that? You were barely with us in the 1800s.” Jisung asks while struggling to put the other end of your congratulations banner across the kitchen. Soojung is on the other end, arm beginning to fall asleep as she holds up the other end of the banner for Jisung. “Even Jeongin and Felix don’t know that.”

“There’s a thing called correspondence and Hyunjin was a diligent gossiper.” Shiyeon only chuckles, setting down the take-out boxes on the countertop. “Also, hey, I was there in one of Y/N’s visits! It just hasn’t happened in our timeline yet but it will in three years!”

Minho then emerges from his room, phone in hand counting down the seconds until you’re back again. “Okay, we have two hours to get everything ready.”

“Lee Minho where have you been this entire time!” Eunhye complains, finally taking the boy’s presence to take a seat. “I’ve been organizing everyone for a whole ten minutes!”

“You mean you have two hours to get ready.” Haseul teases, seated on one of the dining table chairs and helping Changbin, Seungmin, and Felix make proper chocolates this time. “Don’t you have something else important you need to prepare?”

“No, I can just wing it.” Minho dismisses to which Chan immediately laughs at, catching the younger boy’s panicked expression.

“Sure you do.” Seungmin dryly responds, to which everyone topples over in laughter.

past: November 1905

“You’ll see me again in five years, at least from your point of view.” You assure Minho from 1905 right before you leave. Jisung’s apologizing again about the incident last time but you’re quick to hug him and effectively shut him up. “The one you’ll meet in 1910 is going to be a little different, though, a little younger.”

“But it’s still you.”

You smile at this. “Yeah, still me.”

Minho wants to tell you so badly that he’s met another version of you while you were away, someone older, but he quickly pushes the thought at the back of his head. Is this how you feel holding back spoilers from him? Instead, he ops to tease you. “You know, when people usually meet, it’s not as backwards as us.” When you raise an eyebrow at him, he continues, “You keep meeting me from the past and I’ve met you from the future countless of times. Even if culture’s going to be different in the future, I’m pretty sure this is still not how it goes there.”

Finally, understanding, you let out a laugh, hitting his side playfully. “Definitely not.” You agree sheepishly. “But I think that makes it even more special. It makes you wait until we’re in the same time, right?”

Minho nods. “What date are you going back to again?”

“February 29, 2020. Why?”

He says nothing else on it but bids you goodbye with one last hug instead. “Nothing. I’ll see you again soon...or another version of you.”

“And I’ll see future you.” You chuckle before disappearing.

present: February 29, 2020

You come back to all the lights in Minho’s apartment turned off at the present. You hear whispers and the soft clicking of a lighter as well, prompting you to follow the noise outside.

“I think it’s better if Changbin doesn’t hold the cake, don’t you think?” You recognize Haseul’s loud voice even from the hallways, fueling your curiosity even further.

A slight pause then follows before you hear Chan agree, “Yeah. Hyunjin, you hold the other cake.”

“Lix, you’re stepping on my foot.” That’s Jisung, you know by the way he’s always whiny when he complains.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

“Everyone, quiet! Y/N’s on their way!” Nari scolds and the hushes then quickly fall silent once you reach the kitchen, flipping the light switch on the hallway to the sound of party poppers exploding right in front of you. Only then do you see the big ‘CONGRATULATIONS Y/N!’ banner hanging right above everyone standing in a line with cake, hats, and trumpets.

“Um?” You raise an eyebrow at everyone, breaking out into an uncontrollable grin. “What’s with all this?”

Minho of your time then walks over to you with a Toblerone cake, carefully protecting two candles from the breeze that enters through the windows. “Chan and Eunhye insisted on a party so...congrats on finishing your thesis!”

Over his shoulder, said vampire and immortal immediately shake their heads in denial. “It’s his idea!” Eunhye mouths to you with a smirk, making you chuckle.

You then turn to Minho with a smile. “I haven’t even finished writing it yet.” You point out only for your best friend to shrug nonchalantly. “And my graduation’s in a month.”

“Yeah, we can work on that once everyone’s out of the apartment.” He suggests. “Now, just blow on the candles first, Seungmin’s arms are about to fall off waiting to take a picture.”

You briefly apologize to Seungmin on the side with a sheepish laugh, blowing on the cake’s candles after to the many snaps of his film camera. “Thank you for all this. I really appreciate it, you guys!” You thank your guests after, approaching them with Minho on your side this time.

“We can call you Professor now, right?” Hyunjin playfully asks, elbowing you gently on your side.

“It makes me sound really old.” You pout, making him laugh. “In a few years.”

“Three years.” Shiyeon coughs to which Minho immediately glares them down for.

Catching this gesture, you decide on purposely ignoring it for now. You’ll have to ask Shiyeon what they mean with that later. “Anyway, let’s eat. Have you guys been here long?”

“Not really but I’m already starving!” Soojung exclaims, passing you a plate and utensils. Next to her, Felix and Chan instinctively open up all the take-out boxes of food for everyone to dig in.

“Alright, let’s eat!”

present: March 1, 2020

Minho kicks everyone out after by the strike of midnight, when all the food’s been devoured and the party games have been played at least twice. Surprisingly, even Jisung and Jeongin were directed outside by Minho at this time, which you immediately ask him about once the two boys are out of the door. “Don’t those two live here?” You joke with a dry chuckle. “You don’t have to kick them out so we can work.”

“They’ll come back later.” Minho gently shuts the door before turning to you as you stand with your arms crossed in front of your chest, a genuinely curious expression on your face. “I just...need a moment with you.”

You pretend to take a step back with your best dramatic expression of fear. “Oh my God, you’re going to kill me after eight years of friendship, right?”

“What? No.” Minho furrows his brows at this, making you laugh. “It’s just...fuck, now I’m off-tracked.”

You giggle this time, loosening your arms in front of you. “What is it, Minho?”

There have been times, both in the past and present though rare, when Minho has looked nervous in front of you. The last time he was, from what you can remember, was when he was about to tell you that he accidentally killed the squirrel in the apartment’s back garden but even then, he wasn’t as nervous as he is now—fiddling with the hem of his blue sweater for a brief moment before finally taking the courage to step closer to you. “I-I, um—” He stammers out, one hand instinctively going up to his nape. “What I want to say is that...remember when I asked you in 1592 about how I know you?”

“You just teased me about that last week.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to ease the sudden awkwardness, only to make it even worse for Minho. With this, your expression immediately contorts into worry. “What about it?”

“Then in 1905, where you just came back from, you told me we’ll meet in the right time eventually...” He continues after a while, smiling back when you do reassuringly. “In between those centuries, of course, y-you—you came in for your college homework and your Masteral’s but there was also...there was also someone else.”

This unexpected turn drops something heavy on your stomach, your smile unconsciously faltering. Minho wants to snicker but, knowing you, you’ll probably think of him cold if he does so he takes in a deep breath and tries his best to continue with less stutters this time. “Don’t be too sad, it’s still you, just a few months in the future.” He assures with a chuckle, hands instinctively going up to your sides to rub your arms comfortingly. Your eyes widen at this in response and you freeze in his touch. “Anyway, July 2020 Y/N just told me to do something tonight, if that’s okay.”

It takes you a moment to respond but Minho patiently waits, holding back his laugh by biting his lip down. He’s reading your thoughts as they go into overdrive. Is this how you feel when I hide the future from you before? You internally ask to which he nods at. “U-Um, so...what are you going to do?”

“Just tell you that I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” Minho finally confesses, sighing in relief once he’s gotten the words out surprisingly well. “And if you’d like to go out for a trip after your graduation—and not the time travel trip, this time so we can be together right.”

There’s more to it, actually, Minho has a whole paper written and rehearsed for a span of almost three centuries but he figures you’ll find out about it eventually. He could tell you about how he’s been in love with every version of you that he’s met in the past another time or maybe you already know it.

“So?” He asks after a while when you don’t speak verbally. Your thoughts are still muddled and your heartbeat’s a little too fast for his liking but he holds any impulsive urge he might have in for your sake. “What do you say?”

You purse your lips once, mustering up a relieved smile at him after. “You already met me from the future this time—which I commend you for, by the way, because you’ve one-upped me again this time!—so I think you already know the answer to that.”

epilogue

past: July 1799

You know full well that you’re not supposed to travel back in time for personal reasons, especially not for the reason you’re coming into 1799 to see a past Minho for, but you figure that you’re already in your university’s faculty roster. If I get caught, you think to yourself as you easily spot Minho with Chan at an art exhibit in Paris, the professors will probably understand.

“Minho! Chan!” You call with your hand above your head waving frantically at the two, catching theirs and a few patrons’ attentions. You don’t mind the extra attention as you approach him, though, since they did instinctively made way for you because of it. “Hello there, you two!”

“Hi, Y/N!” Chan greets you happily, giving you a side hug. “Aren’t you back too soon?”

But knowing full well that you’re probably not the same one the two met last time, Minho smirks in amusement as he eyes your choice of clothes and asks, “And where did you come from? By the clothes, me from the future probably doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Yeah, I picked out my own clothes for today. Anyway, I won’t be here long.” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “I’m from July 2020 and I’m not here for any academic work this time! I just wanted to ask you a quick favor.”

From what you’ve detailed in your own journals, the last time you met from this particular Minho’s point of view was when you were doing a paper on the Baroque movement for one of your college classes.

“What is it?” He asks you anyway, his body turned away from the painting that he and Chan have been previously admiring as he gives you his full attention.

Judging from the amount of times you’ve visited him (and the different versions of you he’s meet as well), his future self seems to agree on your requests all the time.

“I can’t tell you much but please prepare something on February 29, 2020!” You answer, your watch beeping on your side to remind you that it’s almost time to leave. “And make sure to mention me! Remember, Y/N from July 2020!”

Before he could ask about it, further, however, you were already gone.

“What do you think that was about, Chan?” Minho asks the older vampire instead.

But Chan simply shrugs, hands going deeper in his pockets as he thinks. “No idea.” He admits in equal confusion. “Guess we’ll have to see in three hundred years.”

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