#first day of placement was so tiring and reminded me so much of my old workplace and my old workplace traumatized me fr 😭

[asmallcafethatslove]

I miss jenna marbles so much 😭

[ljh-writing-blog]

Batmom #2 - Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson was and is a force of nature. Brought to Bruce, and by extension yourself, as a child of only eight years old through suffering and death you felt yourself a kindred spirit. You were at Haley’s Circus that night, Bruce thought it would be a wonderful date. The night ended in tragedy, a stunt “gone wrong”. You only hoped the energies of the oldest Flying Graysons were at rest.

The worst part of the night was feeling everyone’s fear in the tent. Dick’s fear stood out to you, it was the strongest and you felt the immediate need to rid it from his small self. You didn’t hesitate to jump out of the stands and find him in the chaos. You made Bruce pull some strings so you could take him home, you didn’t care how but the boy was coming with you. You couldn’t, you wouldn’t, leave him alone to some foster facility for however long it would take to find him placement. You would convince Bruce to take him in, if he didn’t you’d find your own apartment and care for him yourself. Diana always wanted more girl time and you knew she loved kids. All these contingencies ran through your head as you held him close, picking him up and taking him out of the tent. Taking him away from the horror and blood that stained the tent that night.

Bruce wasn’t the best father, truthfully he wasn’t much of a father in the early years. Alfred had been a big help and you stepped up to fill the mother figure role in his life. You stopped fighting crime on the daily, only joining the battle field when absolutely necessary. You had a few shifts at the Watchtower weekly but made sure they were while Dick was at school. You refused to let him sit in his grief alone, it wasn’t healthy. At times you overwhelmed him, he was so full of desolation and rage your love made him sick. He reminded you constantly you weren’t his mother, “My mother is dead! You’re just an expensive wanna-be replacement!” His words damaged your heart at times but you never let it show, not to him at least. Alfred spent many nights baking and drinking tea with you while you both discussed the day’s events. Sometimes it was just a few tears you both pretended not to notice, others it was much more difficult. The first year had been the hardest for all of you.

You weren’t sure if Dick finding the Batcave’s Grandfather Clock entrance was the worst thing that ever happened to your family or the best: it brought your boys closer, you and Bruce started talking again, it allowed Dick to move past his anger and grief, it also allowed him to embrace his trapeze skills and think of them positively instead of the negative left behind. Your son becoming Robin was probably the best thing for his mental health at the time. But it also brought bruises, cuts, concussions, forged doctors notes, and small bouts of what Bruce called a “Napoleon Complex”. It brought pain and death right back to your doorstep in ways you never thought possible.

When Dick found out you were a superhero, with what he liked to refer to as magic, he went crazy. He demanded a talent show and to see you in your suit. You indulged if only to see his smiles, he could light up a room with his grin. Using your mutation to lift him in the air sure wasn’t what he was expecting but it was definitely cool. Once you donned your suit Dick recognized you, his next request filled you with dread. “Y/N your powers are so cool! Can you show me my deepest fear? It’d be really cool to know…” He began rambling as you felt a pit form in your stomach. You never want to use those parts of your powers on anyone you love, especially the boy you live for. Bruce, who had been watching your little fashion show, recognized you tensing up and took over the conversation. “That’s enough for today, Chum. Your mother has had a long day and she’s very tired.” It was the first time Dick hadn’t objected to you being referred to as his mother. That day started a new chapter for your family.

Dick Grayson is a force of nature but you couldn’t imagine your eldest son any other way.

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 2

I really thought I was going to fail this challenge on Day 2 when my creative juices ran out this afternoon, but I had a midnight rush to the finish line, so here I am! It's before midnight somewhere, right?

Today’s fic for my homebrew Song(fic) Challenge is for the prompt “a song that makes you smile no matter what”. I went for a more recent edition to my musical repertoire: "Mellow" by Keina Suda--which you may know better as the OP from the summer 2023 anime "Skip to Loafer"! The dance in the original OP always got me smiling when watching the anime, and so the song does too. And when I looked at the English lyrics for the first time today, I just knew that it had to be SkSw zelink.

Blue and Yellow

Game: Skyward Sword, both pre- and post-canon

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 1271

Keywords: healing, love realization, fluff

He knew, suddenly, that he was in love. So deeply in love that his heart might overflow with it, that his feelings might splash all over the bank of Lake Floria and mix with its cerulean currents in a proliferation of life. In the warmest of blues.

Read the fic on Ao3 or under the cut!

The first time Link met Zelda, he had thought she was completely yellow. From behind—to his four-year-old eyes—the blonde of her hair was the same shade as her buttercup-colored dress. And then she’d turned around, and he’d been blinded by the golden sunshine of her smile. It wasn’t until he’d gone home to his parents that he recalled through the starburst afterimages her beaming grin had left in his vision that her skin was peachy, like his, and her eyes were blue. Still, when he looked at her, all he saw was gold. 

The year he’d turned eight—overlapping with his best friend for a glorious three months—everything changed. The adults told him it was the flu, but the flu had never stolen almost one person from every house before. One from Zelda’s. And two from his. 

The world had gone cold. The loss of his parents left him achy and tired; the placement in Fledge’s house with his two surviving parents and older siblings and pet remlit—why did Fledge get to keep all of them? it wasn’t fair—sharpened the few words he did speak like a knife, until he stopped using them at all. Even when he went to Zelda, seeking the yellow warmth of her zest for life, she had turned blue too. She had no smile to bestow upon him. She had no words that could help him, either. And so the children that had always chattered brightly sat together in gloaming indigo silence. 

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment the colors began to shift. At one point, Zelda was overcome with the red of anger, and he’d never been so scared for her before. He himself fought daily against the choking haze of emerald envy. But as months passed, and then years, all the colors began to lighten to a bearable pastel, shot through with that long-missed yellow. 

Laughter began to break through the silence again. Zelda’s first, and the sound had been so shocking that the impact of it against his eardrums sent him physically staggering back. And his own followed a moment later, swooping from his throat like a loftwing. He’d thought it would be raspy and strangled, but it was the same as always, and the surprise on his face made ten-year-old Zelda point and laugh, and he found himself—as always—tumbling after her. 

He always stayed a little more blue and green than she did. She always beamed more yellow and pinkish-red than he would ever muster. But, as Groselle once explained in an art class—their different colors were still complementary. And Zelda always reminded him of the beautiful things that were blue, too: the lake they splashed in during the hottest days; the berries they stole from the bushes near the pumpkin patches; the beetles he dared her to lick; the open sky they soared in side-by-side. 

He came to accept his blue, and the way it made the yellow he felt in her company feel even brighter. 

Of course, he didn’t have that much time to bask in it. The tornado. The quest. His introduction to the world of red red red at last, through the blood he spilled and the blood he lost and the blood-boiling rage he felt when Ghirahim dared threaten her. 

When it was all over, they’d switched places. Zelda was once again a mottled blue, bruised from the loss of another beloved companion and protector, no matter how she tried to hide it under feigned interest in the Surface. Link was still stained all over with the red he pushed away and clung to in turn. Once again, they clutched one another in silence, hands grasping for the other’s shirts and hands and memories. 

Until, one day, they began to talk. 

“Can you wash the knife? I don’t feel comfortable holding it, after…everything.”

“Of course I can, Link. Is it…because of what you went through? The violence?”

“...no. It’s… No blade feels right in my hand, anymore. They’re not Fi.”

A comforting touch on his shoulder, despite the wetness of her palm that soaked his simple shirt. “She’ll make her way back to you someday. Even if it’s in the far future.”

And he knew she would. Demise’s curse would make sure of that. They would be stuck repeating these fleeting moments of joy within an immense future of heartache. And yet…

Just like they had when Link was a child, the colors began to lighten, and the skies began to brighten. His red washed through with the familiar blue more and more, but he found he preferred it. Anger had made him strong, once, when he needed to be little more than an extension of his blade—but now, he wanted to accept his weakness. Now that he had someone by his side once more to help hold him up when his knees buckled, and would allow him to steady her in return. 

Springtime on the Surface was bright sun, strong breeze, the sound of birds. He’d woken that morning to a note on the pillow beside him. 

Come find me, sleepyhead! You get one hint: the true blue banks.

He trekked to the shores of Lake Floria with an endeared, indulgent smile on his face, and some pastries brought down from Piper’s restaurant in his satchel. The air was warmer here, with the heat sink of the waters having kept the weather in the area more mild, and he lifted the simple knitted cap—his best work was still ugly as a bokoblin’s mug, but Zelda had been so excited for him upon its completion that he smiled every time he grabbed it from their hat rack—he’d taken to wearing on cold days off of his head and stuffed it into his satchel as well. His hair immediately blew into his face. Unlike frustrations of flights long-past when he’d just started learning, the distraction was amusing and nostalgic to him now.

He turned the corner. And there she stood.

Yellow. In the sunlight in her spun-gold hair. In the open curiosity of her gaze as she gently fingered the petals of a freshly-blossomed flower. In the sundress she wore, so like the one he’d met her in. In the bright, peaceful happiness illuminating her like a dandelion halo. 

For a moment, it was all he could do to stand there and stare at her. He’d always known she was beautiful, inside and out, but there was something about her hair in the wind, free as a bird…the perfect curve of her pink lips…the curve of her upturned face as she sought the warmth of the sun…

Oh.

He knew, suddenly, that he was in love. So deeply in love that his heart might overflow with it, that his feelings might splash all over the bank of Lake Floria and mix with its cerulean currents in a proliferation of life. In the warmest of blues. 

He called her name—her name, not the hand-me-down from the goddess of their people—and she turned, smile overtaking her whole face. She waved excitedly, and began to call a greeting.

But he was racing across the clearing already, springing haphazardly over patches of flowers in his way so he and Zelda could admire them later, thudding heart like a loftwing’s wingbeats in his throat. He opened his arms so she could see what was coming—he saw her widened eyes curve into affectionate half-moons and her own arms raise—

And he crashed into her embrace, feeling a soul-rending rightness like never before as her warmth encompassed his entire being.

They were the sun and the sky. 

“Good morning,” he whispered. “I love you.”

[button-brr]

hi welcome to garbage planet. can i take your order?

my fated gray lady sent another sad little boy who only likes to fuck when he's high who only vapes stuff he says he's going to get rid of one day. {cotton candy clouds that sweeten the deal a little bit] but mostly they just remind me of him and the nic makes me soooo fucking sick.

no serious plans no genuine love

I see their empty hollow laugh grins. so surprised a prince, handsome as I am, even looks at them. yeah. I love cute boys. I like sweet boys. I like fucking adult children who don't know how to make their beds and they sleep with stuffed animals and throw full blown fuckin tantrums when they run out of weed. but I promised myself I wasn't gonna do it again. so it's over. it has to end. it has to be over. I have to end it.

I'm so fucking sick.

of you. and him. and men like you. men like him. men who think they're more special than anyone else. men who don't ask if I'm doing ok. men who see and coo over me like I'm a child. I'll tolerate it. but I'm not fucking falling for it anymore.

I'm back in the shadowlands, it seems.

those are old tricks to me now. I see through your mask better than you see the placement of mine. and I have nothing to ask of you. keep whatever you want. things are trash are replaceable. disposable. everything is garbage in the end. in this garbage world. here on fucking garbage planet. I just didn't expect such a so much of negativity to come back so quickly. I just wish I could sit and think and be alone all over again. i would. happily.

nobody I need to see. nothing I need to do.

just me and my closet and dark air where I can sob and nobody can see my tears, not even myself. I hate obligation. I take responsibility and I take it seriously but I'm sick of bad dogs. untrained monsters barking their way into my path. I'll step into the weeds if I have to, find a stray hiding too sweet for this world. raise a good fuckin dog from scratch.

I don't need ruined goods.

I don't need a monster. I don't need a rapist beast jerkish ass self hurter that doesn't care about other people's feelings. you wanted to and you did and you want to and you would. human nature is to repeat whatever you can get away with whenever it works. not this fucking time. I'm sick and tired of it. I want good pure love. I'm not sticking around for this fuckin bullshit. that's all it is. two dates and you're fallen for me completely? you think couples counseling is gonna fix this? grow the fuck up. get a job and stop telling your mother everything. maybe then once you can buy your own things and pay your own rent, you'd find someone willing to fuck you good and right despite everything bad you do. I can't keep control of you. I don't want it.

im sorry i left a mark at all.

its not hard to cover up something you dont want people to see. you did it really well the first time. my love bites and bruises never landed so well before, too bad your sorry act crashed and you burned the bridges i was building. good riddance.

you are a fucking albatross. a #curse. a burden. a nothing. a bother. a beast. I've had enough.

[what-if-nct]

hiiii today's reminder is yes you can call me mama i think that would be adorable tbh and also the stress of having a job and maintaining my relationships and planning a wedding sized engagement party (I've heard Americans think 100 guests is a big wedding. my tiny inner-circle-only engagement party is 80 people) is a lot and I'm very tired

Hiii, Okay yay i think I started saying it as a nickname, honestly cause of Trixie Mattel and Snooki that should tell you everything you need to know about me. And oh no, i can only imagine how tiring it must be to juggle it all at once. Especially the engagement party, which sounds like a mini wedding. Just make sure to find time for some you day's amidst the chaos so you can breathe and relax. i hope it all goes well and you have a wonderful time once the time comes and that wedding planning is nice to you goes smoothly as well. Just carve time for yourself to reset and center.

Also, the past week, there's been so much new music espresso by Sabrina Carpenter. It has been on repeat since release, and then Ms. Taylor Allison Swift released 31 songs. I fell asleep listening to her album and in my dreams it was all i could hear i was even able to recognize certain placements as favorites i was also in a children's psych ward for some reason but when woke up to listen to it the placements of the song i remembered did end up being my favorites which are Florida, with a broken heart,down bad, i can fix him and whos afraid of little old me. Lana del rey better not come from around the corner. Speaking of this, Coachella is the first one ive ever wanted to go to. Lana, Doja, Sabrina and ateez plus Taylor was there just vibing. Like best line up.

[sanguineterrain]

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup​’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.  

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner. 

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.” 

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails. 

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.” 

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.” 

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly. 

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.” 

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter. 

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even. 

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter. 

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment. 

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours. 

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.” 

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look. 

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you. 

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.” 

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you. 

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?” 

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.” 

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table. 

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons. 

“Yeah. We always do.” 

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore. 

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.” 

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table. 

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone. 

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week. 

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home. 

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you. 

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye. 

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening. 

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Fic snippet proposed by @myakkoh​ (tumblr) or BlueSapphire718 (ao3):

“I’m what?” Lan Qiren squawks, since this is the first time he’s heard anything about this. “Sworn brothers with me,” Wen Ruohan drawls. “A memorable night, really.” Lan Qiren stares. “What.” “What’s wrong?” Wen Ruohan sneers. “Can’t speak properly to Da-ge?” “You,” Lan Qiren says, “cannot be Da-ge. It sounds wrong.” “Oh?” “You, are two generations older than me. I am only sixteen.” “All the better,” Wen Ruohan says smoothly.

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

Spilled Pearls

A/N: If Tedious Joys is the story of LQR's relationship with Sect Leader Nie and how WRH impacts that, then this is the story of LQR's relationship with WRH and how Sect Leader Nie impacts that.

Please note the tagging on Ao3 for all warnings, including as to tone

- Chapter 1 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was running to catch up, because he was always running to catch up.

He’d only been allowed to join this particular night-hunt because of Lao Nie’s interference – his brother hadn’t wanted him there, specifically because Lan Qiren was slow and overly fixated on details and not all that handy with a sword – and he was determined not to fall behind. But he was slow, as always, and tired more easily than the others, and then he got distracted and realized a considerable distance had opened up between him and the rest of the group.

He ran to catch up –

He tripped.

He was going to fall flat on his face, he realized as he pitched forward, throwing his hands up in front of his face to try to blunt the pain since humiliation was already a given. He probably wasn’t far enough behind for them not to see this, and then his brother would turn his face away and sigh, aggravated, his shoulders slumping in disappointment at how Lan Qiren had lost him and their sect face all over again.

Lan Qiren was so bound up in his gloomy thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that he had not, in fact, hit the ground.

Someone had caught him.

Even now, they were holding him by the shoulder, keeping him from falling the rest of the way down with a single hand; the posture was awkward, and must be uncomfortable for them.

Lan Qiren straightened himself up immediately and dropped into a deep salute. “Thank you for your help –”

He looked up.

“…Sect Leader Wen,” he finished weakly.

He stared briefly up into red eyes before averting his gaze. He’d thought it was Lao Nie who’d come back to help him, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the familiar Nie colors turning back to the group – perhaps he had come, and was now leaving, since help wasn’t necessary any longer.

He hadn’t expected it to be Wen Ruohan, an ancient monster two generations his elder despite his deceptively youthful face – he hadn’t even realized that Wen Ruohan had decided to tag along on this night-hunt, though of course once he thought about it, it seemed perfectly reasonable. He, like all the other sect leaders, was here for the discussion conference, and a small forest town in the vicinity of the Cloud Recesses did not offer much in the way of other entertainment for outsiders. Why shouldn’t he come along on the night-hunt?

“It’s no matter,” Wen Ruohan said, and it probably wasn’t, for him. Someone with his level of cultivation could hold a kid like Lan Qiren up for a week without noticing the strain. “Did you get distracted by something back there?”

“Small blue flowers,” Lan Qiren said. “Typically associated with certain healing herbs, none of which are native to this area, and growing under an oak of all things; I was wondering if the placement had been deliberate and, if so, by whom and for what purpose. Not to mention when, since those aren’t perennial herbs; they have a longer growing cycle that requires certain meteorological conditions –”

“Aren’t we hunting serpent demons today?” Wen Ruohan asked, and Lan Qiren flinched.

They were, of course. And serpent demons wouldn’t exactly take the time to go plant healing herbs in a wild patch, so it had been a totally pointless diversion.

As usual.

“I got distracted,” Lan Qiren mumbled, his earlier enthusiasm squashed. “I’d say it won’t happen again, but it probably will, and do not lie is a rule.”

Wen Ruohan gave an amused huff. “Ah yes, the famous Lan sect rules. Do you often follow them?”

“Always!”

A hum. “I see. Well, the others have gotten rather far ahead, and I hear the sound of fighting – they must have already found the serpent demons, and will no doubt finish them off by the time we catch up.”

So he’d missed it. Lan Qiren’s shoulders drooped in disappointment.

“Why don’t you show me your flowers, instead?”

Lan Qiren looked up. Wen Ruohan was smiling.

“If you’re sure,” he said cautiously, but Wen Ruohan shrugged and nodded, and, well, Lan Qiren was supposed to be making friends with the members of the other sects, wasn’t he? Maybe no one had been thinking about the Wen sect, especially since Wen Ruohan’s last set of children had all died – someone had broken the prohibition on gossip in Lan Qiren’s presence and suggested that Wen Ruohan had something to do with that, rather than it being just bad luck, and that he’d done it because he thought he was a real immortal and therefore could always start anew, but the idea was so appalling that it surely couldn’t be true – but there wasn’t any real reason to exempt his sect or even him, either. Friends were friends, weren’t they? “It’s this way. Follow me.”

Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and followed Lan Qiren back towards the tree he’d found, his every motion slow and stately as if he were walking in a garden rather than the forest. Lan Qiren found himself mildly jealous.

To distract himself – envying others was against the rules! – he started explaining about the flowers he’d recognized and the types of herbs he thought the plant might be, citing the treatises he’d read about their usual spread and growing patterns and the uses for each one. Somewhere along the line he got distracted, though, because Wen Ruohan mentioned something about the Lan sect rules again, except he got it wrong; there was no rule against excessive verbosity, only against frivolous speech, and while there was a positive rule that counseled speaking meagerly, that was explicitly meant to avoid words that could bring harm and therefore did not apply to intellectual discussions.

Delighted as always to talk about his favorite subject, Lan Qiren promptly launched into an explanation as to the history of the debate as to whether there should be an affirmative prohibition against excessive speech, the various points on either side, the historical texts on the subject, the storied history of the rules regarding the need for an exchange of ideas in furthering education balanced against the exhortation not to take words lightly…

“Look at me,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren obeyed at once. Wen Ruohan was his elder, although not of his sect, and by this point Lan Qiren was used to elders disapproving of how his flickering gaze tended not to settle on people and his preference to look at things through his peripheral vision, and of being ordered to meet their gaze.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes were red, as he’d noticed before, and his gaze was heavy and thoughtful, somehow ponderous. It felt almost like pressure against his skin or maybe his mind.

Maybe I should change subjects or be quiet, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the thought coming to him almost involuntarily, but then he realized that if he did, Wen Ruohan wouldn’t hear about the three-day conference that had been held in his great-grandparents’ generation that specifically focused on the rules that related to speech. And that would be an awful shame, wouldn’t it?

So he kept going.

He kept up the eye contact, though. The elders didn’t always like that, either – when he did hold someone’s gaze, he would stare too directly and too long, not knowing when it was appropriate to turn away, but he figured Wen Ruohan would simply tell him. He’d reminded him about the eye contact earlier, hadn’t he?

“How old are you?” Wen Ruohan suddenly asked, just as Lan Qiren was taking a deep breath, having finished explaining the conference and about to launch into a discourse on the follow-up texts that had been written in the immediate aftermath.

Lan Qiren blinked, distracted by the apparent non sequitur. “Thirteen,” he said.

Wen Ruohan hummed thoughtfully. “Thirteen. Interesting.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked, bemused. “I think it’s a rather boring age. I’m old enough for more chores, but not old enough to have free access to the library or go on night-hunts on my own.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled. His voice was very deep. “I was more commenting on your strength of mind, which is remarkable for your age. I do not recall the age itself,” he said, his tone a little dry. He was ancient, so it was reasonable for him to forget having been thirteen. “Has anyone ever told you about the ways in which cultivation can be used to influence the thoughts and will of others?”

Lan Qiren thought about it. “I think so? There’s a text that says that weak-willed cultivators can be swayed through external pressure wielded by a stronger person’s cultivation, and the larger the power gap between the cultivators, the more effective the influence can be…I don’t remember which text it was, though. I could look up the citation for you when we return –”

“No need. I am not in search of sources.”

Wen Ruohan probably had his own library full of sources, Lan Qiren reflected, and nodded.

“Oh, we’re here,” he said, noticing, and pointed to the flowers. “See, like I told you earlier, it has the characteristic qualities of –”

“Qiren!”

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was his brother’s voice, and he didn’t sound happy.

“Sect Leader Wen,” his brother said, striding into the clearing where they were standing and saluting in a somewhat perfunctory fashion. “I appreciate you taking the time to watch over my younger brother – please forgive him for any impertinence or insult –”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders were up by his ears and his whole face was red with shame. He hated how his brother apologized for him before he even checked whether Lan Qiren had even done anything; it was embarrassing that his brother always thought so little of him.

Maybe he wasn’t talented the way his brother was, but he wasn’t that bad, he didn’t think.

“Think nothing of it, Qingheng-jun,” Wen Ruohan was saying in return. “We were merely spending some time together. I assume the serpent demons have been taken care of?”

“Yes, they have,” Lan Qiren’s brother said. “There’s some debate regarding the disposition of the corpses, if you’d like to join in – forgive us both, but I have to take my brother back to make sure he doesn’t miss curfew.”

Curfew wasn’t for another two shichen, so Lan Qiren had no idea what his brother was talking about, but he obediently saluted Wen Ruohan and followed his brother away.

The moment they were out of view, his brother reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing far too tightly, and tugged meaningfully, glaring when Lan Qiren opened his mouth to protest.

Lan Qiren didn’t understand what his brother was trying to convey.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren started to say, and felt his lips abruptly seal together – it was the muting spell. He could break it, of course, being a member of the Lan sect as well, but his brother was his elder; he should wait patiently until he removed it. Still, he was a little indignant that his brother felt the need to use it on him. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong!

(The glare, he thought. The glare must have been a secret message to not speak, and he’d missed it.)

His brother didn’t say anything as they got on their swords, and he didn’t let go of Lan Qiren’s wrist, either, tugging him along as if he thought Lan Qiren was stupid enough to get lost on the way home. A feeling of shame, the sensation of having made some terrible error and not having realized it again, settled in Lan Qiren’s belly and steadily got worse and worse as they traveled.

It wasn’t until they were back at the inn that was housing everyone during the night-hunt that his brother released his hand.

“You shouldn’t let yourself be alone with Sect Leader Wen,” he said, which surprised Lan Qiren – he’d expected his brother to jump straight into listing out all the ways Lan Qiren had embarrassed him at the night-hunt. He hadn’t been expecting his brother to say something like that at all.

“Why not?” he asked, and his brother glared at him. “You didn’t want to babysit me, and I was falling behind. He wanted to see the flowers –”

“He was humoring you,” his brother interrupted. “Everyone always humors you, but no one actually ever cares about whatever nonsense you’re rambling on about this week. Don’t you know that especially powerful cultivators can affect the mind of the weak-willed?”

Lan Qiren blinked. What a strange coincidence, both his brother and Sect Leader Wen mentioning the exact same thing. “Yes,” he said. “I know. In fact –”

“I don’t want to hear another one of your stupid citations,” his brother said, cutting him off, and making Lan Qiren feel stupid and resentful again – he hadn’t even been about to cite anything! “Anyone who’s ever met you can figure out that you’re little better than a half-wit, all right? Wen Ruohan is a petty person, capable of anything, even only on a whim. Don’t spend time alone with him. Consider it another rule.”

“You don’t have the authority to make rules!”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” his brother snapped, and Lan Qiren bowed his head, acknowledging the point. “Now do me a favor and stay here until the conference is over – I should be back with the rest of them, acting in Father’s place as the sects divide up the spoils. I can’t believe I’m here taking care of you again instead.”

Lan Qiren wrung his hands together. He hadn’t intended anything like that. “Xiongzhang –”

“Have I made myself clear?”

“…yes, xiongzhang.”

“Good.” His brother was on his sword and flying back towards the forest before Lan Qiren could even blink. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.

Lan Qiren supposed he didn’t have to. It wasn’t like Lan Qiren was going anywhere.

At least, not yet. He was already thirteen – less than ten years and he’d be advanced enough to go anywhere he liked, to be a traveling musician and cultivator the way he’d always planned. He’d be able to help people and spend time with anyone he liked, or not spend time with anyone at all if he didn’t feel like it, and there would be nothing his brother could do to stop him.

[fruitcoops]

could you write a coops getting a piercing or tattoo (one or both of them)?

Part 6 of the Coops wedding fics! Thank you to everyone who has read this series--it’s been so much fun writing these, and hearing everyone’s thoughts made the past week an absolute blast. Hope you enjoy!

Check out the rest of the series on the Series Masterlist!

If someone had told twenty-year-old Sirius that in a few years, he would be walking into a tattoo parlor, hand-in-hand with his husband as they prepared to get their wedding date permanently inked on his skin…well, he probably would have laughed in their face. He had never been a big fan of tattoos—they looked cool, sure, but he never understood the point of going through all that hullabaloo for something that would stretch and fade.

Now, though, he saw the point. Wedding rings were amazing, but they were easy to lose; tattoo ink, on the other hand, was a permanent reminder that he had scored the most wonderful person on the planet as his husband.

“Right this way,” Jaya, the young artist with bright blue hair said, smiling as they waved him and Remus into the back. “Congrats on the wedding, by the way. How long has it been?”

“Three weeks.” Remus squeezed his hand and Sirius smiled, running his thumb over the ring. God, he would never get tired of seeing it there.

“It went well, I assume?” Jaya asked as they began setting up.

“It was perfect.” Sirius felt a jolt of fear in his stomach when he saw the tattoo gun, but quickly quashed it down; they had done their research and worked on the design with Jaya even before the actual wedding. He wanted to do this.

“We talked about the process over the phone, but do you have any questions? I’ll go over aftercare again once we’re done.” Jaya paused for a moment, but neither of them spoke up. “Alright, then, which brave soul wants to go first?”

Best to get it over with, Sirius thought. “I can go,” he said, much quieter than intended. Remus raised his eyebrows and he kissed his forehead quickly in reassurance before settling into the chair. He let go of Remus’ hand for a second to pull his shirt over his head, then took it once again and tried to stop the fluttery nerves in his gut.

“Right in the center, yeah?” Jaya leaned down with a stencil, their silver-lined eyes flicking up to Sirius’ face.

“Yep.”

“Alright.” He swallowed hard at the cold feeling of the paper on his skin, just below the hollow of his throat. His neck felt bare without the necklace, but it would be back soon enough. Jaya held a mirror up to show the small numbers. “Look good?”

Sirius nodded. “Let’s do it.”

His heart hammered in his throat and he let out a shaky breath as Jaya cleaned the area and cleaned up their drawing, then picked up the tattoo gun. “Je t’ai,” Remus murmured as he closed his eyes in a last-ditch attempt at relaxing. “You’re alright.”

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius hissed when the needles touched his skin. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on Remus’ hand, breathing slowly as pain prickled all across his chest. It felt like a million bee stings, or the last week of his broken ribs healing.

“Do you need a break?” Jaya asked without looking up.

“Just keep going,” he managed, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. The buzzing sound wasn’t quite as frightening as the strange kind of pain, but it certainly didn’t settle his anxiety.

“You okay, baby?” Remus folded his other hand over Sirius’ and traced a pattern into his wrist.

“Mhmm.”

“Lily and James invited us to dinner next week. Harry’s been asking to see the new baby lions at the zoo with you specifically. He’s also learned the word ‘lame’ and won’t stop using it on James.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Lily says it was her fault, but she told James it was me who taught him to say it.” Remus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“It’s karma. You taught him to actually swear, after all.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Remus complained. “The line is, ‘that’s so unfair, sweetheart, and we need to get revenge’.”

“Right, sor—ow.” Sirius blew out a harsh breath as the needle skimmed over a sensitive patch of skin and bit the inside of his lip.

Jaya made a sympathetic noise. “Just a couple more minutes in this area and then we’ll take a break.”

Sirius turned his head toward Remus and quirked an eyebrow. “Were you trying to distract me?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He moved one hand up to brush the hair off his forehead; Sirius melted into the touch, channeling his attention into the tingly feeling of Remus’ fingers in his hair. “Almost done, love.”

“I’ve got most of it done,” Jaya said, sitting back at last. “Just cleanup work now, and that’ll only take a few minutes. You’re lucky with all the muscle on your chest. It would hurt like a bitch if it was closer to the bone.”

“It already hurts like a bitch,” Sirius laughed, grimacing as Jaya flexed their hand and leaned in again.

“When you two told me your placements at our first appointment, I was a bit surprised,” they murmured, back in the zone already. “Most first-timers don’t choose such sensitive spots.”

“The placement was the important part,” he said, wincing.

“With your necklace, right?”

“Yep.”

“I always like it when people have cute meanings.” Jaya swiped their cloth over the small tattoo before continuing. “I mean, I got most of my ink because I thought it looked cool, but hearing people’s stories is the best part of the job.”

“Would you say the wrist or the chest is more painful?” Remus asked.

Jaya bit their lip. “Depends on the person. The chest area has more bone, but wrists are notorious for hurting.”

Remus hummed, but Sirius heard the edge of tension and kissed the side of his hand. “You’ll be fine.”

“You’re one in the chair,” he laughed. “I’m supposed to be reassuring you right now.”

Jaya glanced up at him. “Count down from thirty for me?”

Sirius frowned in confusion, but obliged; as soon as he reached ‘zero’, Jaya set the tattoo gun down and stretched their back out. “Was that—is it done?”

“Yep. Congrats, you’ve got a tattoo!” Jaya grinned as he sat up, then handed him a mirror. There, in black ink covering a space the size of a quarter, laid a perfect ‘6/12’. The skin around it was bright, angry red, but Sirius was more focused on the familiar slant to the six and the curl of the two; he had seen it written on the PT room whiteboard countless times and, more recently, their mock-up wedding invitations. “Do you like it?”

Sirius cleared his throat as a lump tightened it. “It’s—I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Jaya handed him his shirt as he stood. Remus took his place, looking a little pale as he rested his hand on the small table Jaya had set up next to the chair. “Still okay with the inside of your wrist?”

Remus hesitated, then set his jaw and nodded. “All good.”

“Are you sure.”

“A hundred percent,”

“Alright, let’s get that stencil on.” Jaya worked with clear intent and smooth ease—that had been one of the main reasons they decided on this shop above the others in the area. The cleaning was quick, Remus approved the stencil, and then they got to work.

“Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding about the wrist,” he half-laughed, gripping Sirius’ hand in a white-knuckled hold. “Now would be a good time to start talking, baby.”

“Oh! Um, we need to pick up eggs from the grocery store.” Jaya had to sit back as they both burst out laughing; Sirius put his face in his free hand to hide his blush. “Sorry, I panicked.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your day with Tremzy?” Remus suggested, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes as he settled back down.

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius said lamely. “Uh, I kicked his ass in Smash Bros.”

“You’ve got yourself a keeper,” Jaya said as they started working on Remus’ wrist again.

He smiled up at Sirius. “I know.”

The next fifty minutes passed much the same as they had while Sirius was getting his tattoo—he chatted almost nonstop, rambling about Logan’s terrible cooking and the standing invitation to bring Regulus along for a ‘we survived the Dumais house’ party. Remus scrunched his face up every few minutes, but Sirius kept their shoulders pressed together as he toyed with his free hand. Jaya gave him a thirty-second countdown as well before wiping away the last of the stray ink with a smile.

“How’s it look?”

Remus’ breath caught when he looked down, running his thumb along the lower edge. “That’s exactly what I wanted, thank you so much.”

“Any time, dude. Both of you have good pain tolerance.” They slid their cart to the side of the room again and stood, gathering some gauze and plastic wrap.

Remus leaned his head on Sirius’ shoulder with a sigh. “You have the prettiest handwriting.”

“And you have no excuse for forgetting our anniversary,” he teased, kissing his cheek. “How’s it feel?”

“Like I just got stabbed by a bunch of needles.”

Jaya snorted as he held his arm out for the bandages. “This might shock you, but…”

The three of them broke down laughing and Sirius shook his head, fiddling with the edge of the tape that he could feel under his shirt. A dull ache had begun spreading warmth over his skin and he knew the itching would drive him half-crazy over the next two weeks, but it was an easy price to pay for having his husband’s handwriting on him for the rest of his life. A permanent ‘I love you’, he had said the night after they decided on the design. Sirius smiled to himself as Jaya outlined the aftercare procedures. Permanent. Permanent sounded good.

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[hiwataris-bitch]

Eurovision 2022 songs in order of my least to most liked!

I love eurovision and it took me a week to do this list recently, so I may as well share it with some comments. There are some songs I don't have too much to say about so I won't be commenting on them, just saying it now. And since I know I have some unpopular opinions just remember not to get angry at me, please. The list was made based off mostly studio versions of the songs. Anyway, here goes:

40-31: songs I barely care about and those I do not like

40. Italy - this is The Song. Each year there is The Song everybody loves and I absolutely hate. Last year it was France. This year it is Italy. I do not enjoy it at all. I don't like the melody or their way of singing. Are they good singers? Yeah, sure. But I have my right to hate the song and I do. I don't like ballads in general and I am picky when it comes to slow songs too. This one is annoying af. Don't play it when I'm near.

39. Switzerland - as mentioned above, I don't like ballads. And I absolutely dislike sad ballads.

38. Australia - slow sad song, I don't like it. The guy had a nice outfit though, I give him that.

37. Sweden - I am disappointed, because Sweden produced so many good songs, but this one does absolutely nothing for me. I don't even remember it. It's like the 6th Harry Potter movie. I've seen it 5 times and remember maybe 2 scenes.

36. The Nerherlands - I like then countries sing in their own languages. But this song is just boring for me.

35. Iceland - you were so cool last year, what happened? I don't actually dislike it, but it is one of the songs I cannot remember even if I try (the same with other two above).

34. Greece - okay, I actually kind of like this one. I mean, there are so many songs I like more in this contest, but this isn't a bad song. It is only a little boring, but at least I can remember parts of it. Definitely more powerful than the others so far.

33. Azerbaijan - another slow song I am not a fan of, but at least the refrain does something for me. Again, at least it has a powerful melody.

32. Belgium - it is one of my love-hates this year. It is slightly annoying, something you'd hear in a film about American college kids during a party scene. Sometimes I like it more and sometimes I like it less, so I couldn't place it higher, while it also didn't deserve to be lower.

31. Germany - while I dislike slow songs, this one is actually good. I like the lyrics, I can actually relate to the feeling of missing good old times. This is a type of slow song I don't dislike.

30-21: songs that I more or less like

30. Portugal - I like the refrain, I just wish the whole song sounded as good. I had a hard time deciding if I liked it more than Germany, actually.

29. North Macedonia - finally, a faster song. It isn't the most interesting one, sadly, so this is where it belongs. I don't care about this one so much. If it comes up on a playlist I will listen and enjoy, but I won't be playing it on purpose.

28. Georgia - this is my second love-hate. I honestly don't know how to describe this. This song is weird, sometimes it reminds me of Beyblade songs, sometimes it is annoying to listen to. I like the "lock me in, lock me out" part, but my feelings about the rest of it change constantly. How much I like it depends on the day, weather, placement of the stars and planets that day, and whether ot not I smelled a chicken.

27. Lithuania - I like how different it is from most of the songs. It stands out. At first I thought I would place it higher, but the more I listened to it, the more I decided I didn't care as much. Again, I like it is not in English. And I really do like the general vibe of the song, like from an old film, but I don't like it as much.

26. Albania - I used to like it more when I first heard it, but I got tired. It is more fun when you watch the music video. Without it, it gets tiring if I listen to it too much.

25. United Kingdom - I know a lot of people are fans of this song. And I kinda get it. I like the singer's voice. I like the song. It just doesn't hit me with strong emotions when I listen to it. I'm not saying the song isn't emotional, or the singing, or whatever. I'm just indifferent when I'm listening to it.

24. Romania - oh, a solid song to dance to when I'm alone in my room. Just like UK, it doesn't do anything for me emotionally, but I enjoy listening to it once in a while. It just makes me want to move. Good to listen to while I'm walking from or to the bus stop.

23. Montenegro - it surprised me how much it grew on me. But here's the difference with all the songs so far - it actually makes me feel something. Not the whole song, mostly the second half (or a little bit more than that). I am asthmatic and I've often had problems breathing when I was under stress and in a way, as a result breathing and air were important motifs in some of my writings and arts. This song reminds me of it. Sadly, it is still lacking something I can't quite place, so that's why it isn't higher.

22. Spain - this is damn catchy. Even better than Romania's when it comes to dancing to. The lyrics aren't the most ambitious, but I don't care. I just freaking love the beat.

21. Serbia- this would've totally be higher if it wasn't for the fact I found 20 songs I liked more. I legit enjoy this song. It is original. It is in Serbian. The rhythm is amazing, it makes me want to clap my hands along the singer. I sing parts of it along as I listen. I know there is a heavy story behind it, which makes me sad, but I think it's amazing how people take difficult situations and make it into such quality content. I just legit love it.

20-11: sons that would've been in my top 10 if it wasn't limited to 10 song only

20. Armenia - it gives me 2010 vibes. Girl sitting with her laptop, posting The Fault in Our Stars moodboards on tumblr. I like the guitar and how peaceful it is, but it doesn't sound sad.

19. Cyprus - idk but for me this song sounds just SO European. It makes me feels of summer holidays in late 90s to early 2000s, radio playing on a beach or near a lake, kids with inflatable toys running around, smell of oil in the air. And these classic bald white dudes, shirtless, sitting at the plastic or wooden tables under these huge umbrellas. Yeah, this is a song that would play during a scene like this. It reminds me of childhood and summer trips to the lake with my family. And it's super European in the same sense Dragostea Din Tei is. This one song all kids from your elementary school would know and listen to during a school disco.

18. Bulgaria - OMG I KNOW, EVERYBODY HATES IT, BUT I DON'T! I really like this song. I like rock. It sounds kind of old, like it was made over 10 years ago and wasn't the most popular song on the album. A song you'd forgotten about until you found an old CD and listened to it once again realising "oh yeah, that song exists". But I like it. It is super catchy.

17. Finland - it pains me Finland ended up so low on the list. I love the Rasmus. Come on, if you remember In The Shadows I bet you like them just as much as I do. Honestly, this song isn't exactly a winner for me. But that's not the point. The point is, it is the Rasmus performing on eurovision and just that fact alone is cool. As for the song itself, it sounds exactly as I'd expect from this group. Nothing surprising, but it's quality. And it gives me a little throwback to elementary school and girls from my class putting them as their favourite band in these question notebooks we had. Idk if other countries had it too. For us it was called "golden thoughts" (pl. złote myśli).

16. San Marino - I need to stop complaining how low I put things, it is my goddamn list. I love this song. The singer has an amazing stage presence. If I hear one more person complain they are "discounted maneskin" I will throw hands. This song is powerful on its own. The music literally sounds dirty. I could put it on so many fanfiction playlists. Writing smut. Reading smut. That one character I imagine as power bottom, disobeying his master and being a tease. Last year's winner didn't me think of it, so let me have this one.

15. Austria - okay, not too much to say about this one. It is catchy and I like catchy, just as I like fast songs you can dance to (even though I don't dance) or that make you feel energetic and ready to kick the opponent team's asses in League of Legends.

14. Estonia - I just vibe with it. A good song to travel to, because obviously. I don't ride horses, but I could listen to it while riding a bike. Except I haven't done that in years. Whatever, I just really like this one.

13. Ukraine - first of all, if they win, we (poland) are totally down for organising ESC in Warsaw. Don't quote me on that though. I don't know if I like it more than last year's song. What I appreciate is how Ukraine manages to combine traditional music with electronic. And they do it in style. I used to work at local folk festival in Poland even though I am NOT a fan of folk music. But I am a fan of modernised folk music. If that festival I worked at had this type of content, they would've fired me for listening instead of working. The flute part is my favourite. I just hope people won't vote for them only because of the war currently going on. But they still should vote for them, because this song is damn good.

12. Latvia - this is simple. I love happy, funny songs. I always look forward to trolls on eurovision because they are the best. This song is HILARIOUS and I am personally offended I couldn't find more reaction videos on YouTube of people getting surprised by the iconic "instead of meat I eas veggies and PUSSY".

11. Moldova - read what I wrote about Ukraine and then mix it with what I wrote about Latvia. I ABSOLITELH LIVE MOLDOVA THIS YEAR. I tried following the lyrics as I listened to the song, but I understand absolutely nothing and the sounds are not the letters I see. Bonus points for singing in your own language instead of English and if they are not in the final someone will get hurt.

10-01: one of you better wins this shit

10. France - so much improvement since last year, oh god. I absolutely couldn't stand Voilà. But this year we eat good. Hey Netflix, can we use this song in the Witcher? I don't even know what it is about, and yeah, it's not Slavic (as opposed to the Witcher), but I demand this song in some sort of fantasy series or a film.

09. Slovenia - the best part about this song is how I hum along to it until that one part that sounds almost Polish and suddenly I go "A TY DRUGIEMU SERCE ODDAJESZ". This is the only part I can somehow understand. Btw someone please tell me if "zasral" is a normal Slovenian word, because it sounds almost as our "zesrał" (pl. He shat/shitted/what is the correct form of that, my degree in English just became useless).

08. Denmark - I don't think this song is popular. I like it a lot because it makes me feel powerful and motivated. And I like rock, if it hasn't become obvious yet. It gives me energy.

07. Malta - similar to Denmark, it makes me feel. Not in the same way, Denmark is more energetic while Malta is like this spreading light. But it makes me feel and that's what matters.

06. Ireland - this is more of a bop than Spain and you cannot convince me otherwise. I get this song stuck in my head daily. I had to make up my own lyrics before I learned the correct version, because it just doesn't go away. Once it starts playing in my head, it continues until finally I have to focus on something. Or I play another song.

05. Israel- look, I know it is not the most liked song. Someone on YouTube mentioned they didn't like how the artist sings about himself, but I don't see it that way. I don't think it is about the actual person who performs. For me, this song is about my favourite characters, or even sometimes me if I am in a good mood. And the singer is just some guy who made this song exist. I don't even remember his name (like I ever remember anyone's name lol) but that doesn't even matter.

04. Norway - did I mention I love trolls and crazy? It is another earworm. It's crazy and I love it. If Ireland isn't tormenting me with That's Rich, you can be sure Norway and their wolves do it instead.

03. Croatia - yay, we made it to top 3! I am in love with Guilty Pleasure. For reals. I've listened to it a lot already. It's a perfect fanfiction material. So many OTPs I can think about of when I listen to this song. Someone needs to make one of these "aot riren lyrics prank" videos I've seen on YouTube using this song, because it's just so damn perfect. If nobody does, I will learn how to make it and do it myself because I need it to exist. Anyways. I am in L O V E!

02. Czech Republic - whenever Lights Off comes on Spotify I am surprised how good of a song it is. It's memorable and catchy, it is fast and happy just as I like. I had no troubles picking it as my number two.

01. Poland - okay, listen. This is not number one because I am from Poland. We are SHIT at eurovision. Not at junior, luckily, but we are absolutely awful at ESC and after last year everybody knows it. I mean, last year didn't even happen, we didn't participate, no Rafał with his awful sunglasses, nah-ah. Because last year is a proof of what happens if TVP decides on their own. They don't know shit about this contest (especially considering they fired our commentator. God, please, fire the new one instead, he is awful). HOWEVER this year we are doing so good I am surprised. You know how I don't like slow songs, but damn, River is so powerful I've lost my socks countless times listening to it. And no, it is not a rip-off Arcade. What makes me love River so much are the lyrics I can relate to - the feeling of being tired and just wanting to give up. I've felt that countless times. It gives me shivers each time I listen to it, and no other song makes me feel anything this powerful. This is legit the best song Poland has ever send to eurovision (in my opinion).

Anyways, that was my list, and I know I am kind of chaotic when I talk, but sometimes I just don't know any other way to describe how I feel about stuff. So yeah, let me know what you think, just don't shout at me or I might get scared.

[ships4you]

midnight promises {zuko}

Part 2 to flames & deception

avatar the last airbender MASTERLIST

Pairing: Zuko x Earth Kingdom!Reader

Prompt: Once Azula finds out about the readers relationship with her brother, she sends the Dai Li to lock the reader up in a prison in Ba Sing Se. Iroh sends a friend to sneak into the capital and save the reader before the comet arrives, fearing that she would be transported during the fight. Zuko then arrives at the White Lotus camp with the Gaang and rejoins with the reader.

lol guys, In my mind Zuko is such a baby. Honestly I am thinking about coming out with another part to this. I just love the dynamic, so lmk if you guys want more!

“Dinnertime!” the guard spoke through the metal door, sliding a tray of mushy gunk through the small opening. You rolled your eyes, picking up the plate to sit on you rock of a bed. You slowly picked away at your food, knowing all too well if you were ever to escape this hell you would need the energy.

After the fire nation took control over Ba Sing Se, many generals and war officials; including your father, were taken captive. Just a few nights after your father was arrested, the Dai Li showed up at your house and took you to the Capital’s prison. Apparently, Princess Azula of the fire nation had heard of your ‘treacherous acts’ and demanded you be thrown in jail. (All for being a peasant dating the crowned prince of the fire nation. The audacity.)

As for Zuko... He had been gone for half a year now. Disappearing the night before the siege of the city. For all you knew he could be dead. You would often playback the memory of the last time you saw him, in search for any hints to what may have happened to him.

***

“Hey.” you walked over to Zuko pressing a light kiss to his lips. “Why’d you guys shut down the shop early?” you questioned, picking up a stray tray of dirty teacups. “We have been invited to the royal palace to serve tea to the Earth King!” Iroh sang out, his belly bouncing as he giddily paced around the shop. “He’s been humming and dancing around the shop ever since he got the invitation.” Zuko shook his head, grinning from ear to ear.

Iroh swiftly swooped past you sliding the tray out from your hands, “I will finish cleaning up down here. Now you two run along, go upstairs and pack the supplies.”

Zuko was already halfway up the steps before Iroh could finish. “Congratulations,” you said giving Iroh the biggest hug, “I’m so happy for you, you deserve this.” As you pulled away he rested his hand on your shoulder, “I am sure I am one of many tea-makers awarded with this honor. It is just nice to be recognized.” You placed a kiss on his cheek before running up the stairs.

You only made it a few steps into the apartment before feeling his hands wrap around your waist, warm fingers caressing into your skin. “Do firebenders always have warm hands?” you pondered, feeling him dig his face into the side of your neck. “Mmm what kind of question is that?” he mumbled into your skin as you wrapped your arms over his, swaying with to non-existent music. “We are always warm; its in our nature.” he said pressing his parted lips into your skin.

You turned to face him, lifting your hand over his head to rest on his shoulders. “Sounds like you would freeze to death in the snow.” you teased messing with the short raven strands of hair on the nape of his neck. He leaned into your touch, “Mhmm, spirits, don’t remind me.”

Before your could question his response Iroh boomed from downstairs, “Lee, the carriage to escort us to the palace has arrived.”

Zuko groaned, “Alright Uncle, I will be down in a second.”

He hesitantly left your arms to grab a beaten up green and yellow case, “So can I come see you later tonight?” you shrugged, “My father will be home till late, military stuff. So just come over when you’re done at the palace.”

“Good girl.” he purred and cupped your chin to pull you in, his soft lips claiming yours.

He broke away before you had time to react, jogging down the stairs. Leaving you standing in the middle of the apartment. Flustered and dumbfounded.

***

Awoken in the middle of the night by harsh grunt and an ‘oof’, you sat up in bed; listening to the footsteps inch closer and closer to your cage door. The lock clicked open causing you to jump up. A tall man in a dark red robe stood in the doorway before you, the faint outline of a sword peeking out from his coat.

“Who are you?” you said holding your hands up, prepared to attack. (Being the child of a military general often meant self defense classes on the weekends). The man pulled back his hood, “I am Piandao, member of the white lotus.” he said bowing.

Is he fire nation? You wondered, noticing the placement of his hands as he bowed.

“I’ve been sent to break you out. Iroh sends his best.” he says with a wink, before stepping to the side, gesturing for you to exit your cage.

***

It had been a week since your rescue. Uncle Iroh had greeted you when you first arrived, the both of you sharing a few tears during the reunion. Since then you had not seen him around camp. According to your new friend Bumi, who you had spent most of your time with sparring, Iroh was leading a revolution to take back Ba Sing Se. You could understand he was busy.

As much as you grew to love all the members of the white lotus, they still were old men. There was only so much Pai Sho you could handle. So, you set up your tent on the outskirts of camp. Far enough away so you could have some privacy. You weren’t disturbed often, so when the front opening of your tent began to open you yelped, throwing your discarded shoe at the stranger.

“Oof, what the hell?”

You immediately recognized his voice.

“Zuko?!”

He ducked further into the light, his hair longer than before. Instead of wearing brown and green garments, like you were used to, he wore a red tunic lined with gold outlines. He looked worn, his eyes slightly sucken and tired— accompanied with a nice set of baggage.

“Y-you’re alive.” he whimpered, practically falling to his knees, pulling you into him.

“Of course I’m alive,” you said, “Why would I be dead?” You barely finished your sentence before Zuko pressed his lips into yours, hands reaching up to cup your face. You gripped to his shirt, pulling him closer to you, worried he may disappear again if you were to let go.

He pulled away, “Azula said... I thought she had killed you.” he explained. You studied the gold specks in his eyes, glimmering from the candlelight. You chuckled, “Nope, I’m still here.”

“Thank the spirits.” he praised swiftly pecking your lips once more, “Cause I am never letting you out of my sight again.”

You spent the next few hours talking non-stop. He explained his return to the fire nation- distraught after being told by Azula that you had been targeted and killed by the Dai Li. He spent a lot of time telling you about his confrontation with his father, finally standing up against his years of abuse. You listened carefully to each and every word, making sure he felt heard, and even shared a few tears with him. But when he would talk about the avatar and his new friends would light up. Explaining their adventures and new experiences. You couldn’t keep yourself from smiling.

He was absolutely outraged to hear about your time spent in prison. At one point he had been angrily stomping around the tent, “I- I- How could she do this!! You did nothing to her- you were not a threat! And she just-“ You had kissed him to calm his nerves, helping to forgive what had happened.

***

The sun had set hours ago, the candle slowly simmering to a low dull. The two of you had somehow ended up on the floor, ears pressed against your single pillow to face each other. You had been quietly combing your fingers through his hair, his eyes rested shut.

“I like long hair on you.”

He opened his eyes, peering at you through his long eyelashes. “It gives me something to grab onto now.” you teased lightly clasping your hand into a fist. He snickered, “Oh really.” His hand made his way down your backside to reach and grab your leg, pulling it to hook around his hip. “Oh god, don’t even get me started on the red. I mean, I knew you were fire nation, but flameo hotman.”

He practically lunged at your lips, pulling your hips to flush against his body. “Shuttup.” he playful murmured placing another light kiss to your lips. “Spirits I missed you.” Your hands fiddled with the golden wrap tucked around his waist, slowly unraveling the cloth from its knot. “The comet- This whole battle everyone is talking about...” you whispered-- eyes avoiding his, “It’s tomorrow isn’t it?” Zuko rolled onto his back, skimming a hand through his hair. He exhaled anxiously.

“Yea...”

“Are you going to stay here? Help take back Ba Sing Se?”

“No.”

You lightly leaned onto his chest, “Where will you go?” you questioned. His hand came up to caress a strand of your hair. “ I have to confront my sister. Someone needs to be at the capital... To take over the fire nation once this war is finished once and for all.” His hand slid to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the side of your face. “Come with me.” your eyes widened at his sudden offer as he begged, “I can’t defeat her alone. And when its all over you can live in the Fire Nation. With me.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

You could tell he was serious. He stared at you, waiting for an answer. “I just- My duty is here... I have to help get my city back. Get my father back.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “You’re right, you’re right.” he murmured folding his hands behind his head. You crawled up his body, turning his chin to look at you. “Hey.” a low hum echoed from his body as he grunted in response.

“I’m going to follow you no matter what. Once I’m done here I’m getting on the first boat to the fire nation.”

“D’you promise?”

You laid you head against his chest, tucking your hand through the opening of his tunic to rest on his midriff, “Promise” you whispered as he wrapped his hands around you. “Good.”

Tag List: @11mb0 @svgakookie @coldlilheart

[writerwrites]

Yuánfèn | 03

Ch. 3: Saudade: “The feeling of longing for an absent something or someone that you love but might never return.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 4.2k Chapter Warnings: Slow burn, grief, fluff, domestic fluff is strong in this chapter... ALL THE FLUFF

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Complete Masterlist

You hadn’t been sleeping, not really. Between bouts of crying over the piles of pictures and old love letters from the war, you were at a loss for words. A part of you was so mad at yourself for never getting to know your grandparents, not really, not on a level that truly meant something. You loved them and by the prideful placement of your graduation pictures on the coffee table by your grandmother’s reading nook there was no doubt they had loved you too or at least been proud of your accomplishments. You were no one to the world. No one thought about the person that patched up heroes and now the one person left with whom you may have been their world was also gone. You could only describe the feeling as being left adrift.

Adrift, what an odd, dark place to be. You mused in silence as you thought about life, time, and death. None of it seemed black and white to you. No one was wholly good or bad and even the flawed souls had people that cared about them at some point, conflicting as that may have been. You’d turn that thought over in your head, night after night, wine in one hand and pictures or letters in the other. It made you wonder how long it would be until you’d find a soul to remember you when you were gone, the act of having to replant yourself one that felt more like a chore than your tired body seemed to have energy for. The only person that seemingly connected to your entire existence now was a hundred-and-something year old patient that was adored by every person that knew even a fraction of his story. Every night, with that reminder in mind, you’d polish off your glass and curl up into a ball on the couch and wait for a couple hours of reprieve from the horrors of your solitary reality.

At odd hours, you and Steve would check in with each other. For the most part the pair of you had stuck to texting, you with your proof that you were eating and Steve with some balm that the team was still in one piece without you. To your surprise, he managed at least one short FaceTime every few days. This was a new and pleasant escape from your solitude that happened to include little introductions to food he’d never had and meaningless promises that you’d cook more in your tiny kitchen and bring him your leftovers to try. Maybe it was the way his face lit up when you managed to peak your head up from your bundle of hoodie and blankets, but it really felt like he understood and never judged you for how miserable you looked or for those moments where you’d simply fall silent mid-sentence. In fact, he never commented on your appearance at all. Two weeks and it felt like you learned more about him than you had in all the years as a doctor at Stark Industries.

You missed your job, kept telling him as much but Tony insisted you stay and get what you had to get done over with to prevent you from having to make multiple trips away. Stark may have claimed one thing, but your conversations with Steve made you suspicious of what he was getting into and how he was coping with Wanda’s vision. As if you were on some sort of mental health retreat. Steve wouldn’t say anything particular about it, but you noticed that his jaw went tight before commenting that there were no medical emergencies waiting for you and he’d tell you if there were. It was one of the least reassuring statements the soldier had ever given you and he seemed to notice the way your expression fell, getting off the phone awkwardly with an excuse that he remembered he had somewhere he needed to be.

Something told you that it would be the last time he would FaceTime you on your trip to Mallorca. Rather than let yourself get upset by that or hyper analyze the giddy feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach every time your phone lit up with his name, you busied yourself with all the things you should’ve been working on in the first place. It was the most productive day you’d had since getting there, but you managed to forget to both eat or slow down and rest. With little interest in laying down on the couch, still incapable of sleeping in your grandmother’s room, you decided to shower and head out to find something to eat at one of the dozens of little shops. The noise in your head was already wondering what Steve would say when you sent a picture of whatever you were eating and he realized you’d actually left the house for more than groceries or a meeting with the lawyer.

The late April air was warm and dry, a light breeze blew in the sweet scent of the Valencia red roses and lemon scented geraniums that lined the large balcony. As you towel dried your hair with a yawn, half tempted to collapse onto the couch as your stomach groaned with hunger, the doorbell chimed through the house. You looked down at the maxi dress you’d put on, a little wrinkled from being in the small suitcase, as your heart raced. You hadn’t been expecting anyone and no one had swung by to check on your grandmother, but you figured it was only a matter of time. This is fine, I’m glad she wasn’t alone, you chanted whispered over and over as you went to the door and pulled it open.

Steve rocked on his heels, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a small box wrapped in parchment paper and tied with a simple blue silk ribbon. He could hear footsteps inside and his gaze moved over the place. It wasn’t like any place he’d ever been before, more like something from a postcard, and he found himself eager to explore the streets he could hear voices coming from. Then he heard the rapid pulse and little pep talk on the other side of the door, causing the corners of his lips to turn up in a small smile. In possibly the worst attempt at a Spanish accent you’d ever heard, he managed a bashful, “Buenas tardes.”

With a gentle nudge to his shoulder, mostly to make sure you weren’t hallucinating, you managed to pick up your jaw and ask, “Tony finally send you out here to drag me back?”

“Nah, team had a lead and I want them to practice a little recon without me. I’m not too far from them and, I think, my friend needs me a little more than they need me.” He swallowed down his nerves and you tried not to stare at his Adam’s apple or the fresh stubble along his jaw. Instead you looked at the box in his hand. “Sam said this might help with the pictures and things.”

Slowly backing up you nodded for him to come in, watching him duck through the doorway that he easily filled, as you took the gift from his hand. Moving the blanket and pillow from the couch so you both could fit, you carefully opened what was a portable image scanner that would plug right into your computer. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath, though he’d been watching you the whole time despite wanting to look around the place and he put a hand on your back, thumb rubbing across your spine as you let out a shaky breath. “It’s perfect.”

Nice things, little things, every little opportunity of letting yourself feel even a fraction of emotions seemed to make you fall apart. Steve noticed and took the gift from your hands, setting it gently on the coffee table next to your discarded laptop. “I didn’t get a breakfast or a lunch picture from you. Why don’t we go grab something to eat?”

For some reason you felt the immediate need to protest, but his hands were gently pulling you up from the couch and leading you back to the door. The sun stung your eyes when the door opened and there wasn’t a super soldier to block out the light, making you pull back into the house. Steve didn’t let go of your hand, waiting and trying to encourage you by brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “Okay.” You reassured yourself more than him, taking each step slowly as you let yourself be anchored by the man walking with casual purpose as if he knew where he was going. “Are we wandering or did you really memorize a map when you Googled the place?”

Steve smiled at you, a real smile that reached his eyes and you did your best to not cringe at how much your body naturally reacting with your own smile wracked you with guilt or how obvious it was that he knew by his fingers lacing through yours as he held on just a little tighter. Even when you turned down a little street you hadn’t explored and he pulled out a chair for you at a quaint little bistro you were still smiling. “So, I know what tapas are and with some googling this is supposed to be one of the best places for them.”

Time and again, something normal slipping from this man’s mouth couldn’t help but make you stare at him in awe. “Well, do you like spicy food? Tapas are great and patatas bravas are spicy. You can’t go wrong with the classic tortilla de patata though.” A waitress passed you both a menu and you ordered a café con leche and Steve politely nodded to have the same. “You know you just asked for espresso with milk, right?”

His face went a little pink as he admitted, “I thought café was coffee?” Attempting to hold in your laughter, the small sound that did escape you was muffled by the sound of melodic guitar pouring through the open doors and windows of the restaurant. “If I would’ve known that you were all alone in a postcard I would’ve asked Sam to check on Benton sooner.”

“Benton?” Your head tilted to the side as the waitress set your espressos between you and you processed, while asking her for a coffee with cream and sugar on the side.

“I told you that I’d end up naming your fish if you didn’t. Thomas Hart Benton is an American painter… pretty famous, but probably not an everyday kind of name if you aren’t really into the Regionalist art movement.” Steve waited until the waitress walked away before trying the espresso, his nose scrunching like a kid trying a sip of beer and finding out it tasted nothing like juice.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?” Hiding your smile behind your own espresso, you stole another glance at him, catching his bright blue eyes on you for just a moment before pulling away to the colorful scenery. “You’re  lucky you showed up when you did. I was torn between a nap and finding something to eat.”

“Is the espresso so you don’t fall asleep on the table?”

Burying your face in your hands you tried to hide your embarrassment. “It’s not that I’m not ecstatic to see you or that you’re not amazing company.”

Your hands muffled your words and Steve reached over and pulled them down. “It’s fine. I understand. You can get your nap in after you eat something.”

To your surprise, he kept reaching out for your hand between bites and light conversation. By the time you were done eating the waitress was hovering, now seemingly aware of who he was. Despite the looks and flirting on her end, he kept his attention on you, insisted on paying, and walked you back to the house. A part of you thought you’d wake up from the dream when you walked through the door but he followed you, only letting your hand go to close the door. “There’s a lot of books to read. I’ll probably only sleep for like an hour.”

“Sleep as long as you need to, Darling. I can sit out here and read or if you’d like me to help scan things onto your computer, I could do that too.” Steve’s smile fell as you buried your face in your hands and started to cry. “Hey, I don’t have to touch a thing. Whatever you need.”

His arms wrapped around you when his attempts to gently pull your hands from your face failed. Just as he’d done before, one hand caressed your back and the other stroked your hair until you settled into the hug. “I’m sorry, you’re just being nice and I’m exhausted.” Craning your neck to look up at him, you caught the glimmer of tears in his own eyes. You didn’t have to wonder who he missed, knowing that probably every person he’d cared about was gone or moved on in the time he was frozen. “I’ve been sleeping on the couch.”

Steve took in a breath, trying to steady himself as he looked over at the couch, remembering the pillow and blanket you’d moved for you two to sit earlier. “This whole time? Is there not a bed?”

Swallowing you hid your face, “There’s a bed, but it smells like her.”

“C’mon.” Steve cautiously pulled you out of the hug, “Show me where it is. I’ll be your pillow and you can get some proper sleep.”

You were in shock; confused, physically and emotionally exhausted, and then he was taking your hand and pulling you toward his best guess at the direction of the bedroom. After opening the door to the bathroom and office, Steve pushed open the door to the bedroom. Reluctantly and barely over a whisper, you muttered a quiet, “Okay.”

He stepped out of his boots and climbed onto the bed, taking up nearly the whole thing, before he reached out for you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Nodding you climbed in next to him and he pulled you right into his chest. His thumb and palms wiped the damp from your cheeks before brushing your hair from your face. Steve waited, holding your face, gently brushing your jaw as you settled in at his side, your head far away from anything that could shock your senses with nostalgia and grief. “Comfy?”

It didn’t seem to matter that you had to hike your dress up to your knees or that ‘comfy’ meant your legs were tangled up in his. The blankets being under the pair of you didn’t seem to matter either, when you were warm against his abnormally warm chest that, despite being solid muscle, still felt more comfortable than the pillow you’d been resting your head on every night. Steve’s long broad frame dwarfed you, giving you the sense of safety you hadn’t felt since before you’d lost your family. His fingertips drew an invisible map across your bare arms and you hummed a nearly inaudible ‘mmhm’ as your eyes fluttered closed. There were a million things you wanted to tell him, but as he took you in his arms and seemingly unleashed the jar of butterflies in your stomach, you almost instantly fell asleep to the sound of his steady pulse under your ear while he engulfed you in the scent of clean laundry and bar soap.

Steve stayed by your side, as promised, and despite the time difference and the Quinjet negating typical travel time from the States to Europe, he found himself comfortable and exhausted. Maybe it was seeing how broken you were to be sitting in a space of memories, displaced by the absence of everything you held dear, something he knew too well; but he found himself incapable of slipping out of the bed or even moving to reposition you so that he could give you some blankets. Until this moment he’d chalked up all of his thoughts of you to Natasha’s pestering to ask someone, anyone, on a date. As his blue eyes closed, he replayed your smile in the sunlight at the table, the breeze blowing the scent of your shampoo and espresso at him. God, he thought as he drifted to sleep, he should’ve asked you to dance.

When you woke up, disoriented by the darkness and a soft blue-white glow over your head, you found Steve staring at his phone, free hand absentmindedly stroking your hair. Your arm was wrapped tightly around his and the sudden realization that you were clinging to him for dear life made you relax. He looked down at you surprised. “I really thought you’d sleep through the night. Are you hungry again? It’s only eight.”

It was painfully domestic and you hated yourself for not wanting to get out of bed. It felt too much like borrowed time and you nodded, hiding your face in his side as you tried not to think about the reality outside of these four walls where you both would eventually leave back to your respective jobs. The certainty that things would go back to how they were the moment you were back in Stark Tower felt like a new pain you weren’t ready to confront. “I can make-”

“We are both hungry.” He’d interrupted you with a sleep-laced haze to his quiet voice. “We’ll cook together.”

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you gave him a studied look. “Full of surprises.” Reluctantly climbing out of bed, you stretched, feeling his eyes on you as the dress fell down your thighs back to your feet. Steve slipped into the bathroom and you heard him immediately turn the water on. Trying not to think too much into it, you put on some music and started pulling out the fresh feta, garlic, basil, and tomatoes you’d picked out at the store.

When he was done, Steve leaned against the wall of the hallway, listening to you singing along to the song, the corner of his mouth turned up as he tried to not interrupt what looked like a little moment of happiness. He could hear Sam’s laugh when he walked into your apartment to pick up the key and see where everything was. It was a laugh he’d given Bucky when he tried to play off asking the prettiest girl in school was a bet and not because he really liked her; the laugh of a friend that knew the truth but was willing to let you feign ignorance a little longer.

When you turned around, you nearly dropped the pot of water and at least half of it splashed onto you. Steve waved his hands in an apology. “I can boil water. I’ll clean this up.” His hand brushed over the soft curves of your hips as he apologized and shooed you out of the kitchen.

The person that looked back at you in the bathroom mirror wasn’t the one you’d seen every day since your arrival- or even in the last three years. You looked rested, despite your hair being a bit of a mess, and the small smile that no longer made your face ache wouldn’t seem to subside. The voice in your head tried to scold you back to reality telling you that this was the most loyal and old fashioned man on earth and that if you hadn’t sent him your location and seemed like a mess for weeks he wouldn’t have shown up. Swapping one dress for another, trying to make your hair sit right, and putting on some tinted chapstick and mascara, you came out looking like a new person and found the kitchen deserted. “Steve?”

For a moment you felt like an idiot, thinking you may have literally dreamt up his presence out of boredom and loneliness. Then he stuck his head in through the balcony door, already talking. “It’s too nice to eat inside.” You watched him visibly pick up his mouth. “You look… I feel underdressed.” You wrapped your hands around yourself about to apologize and offer to change before he said, “No, no. You look beautiful. I’m just… I’ve never really seen you not in scrubs, y’know.” He scratched at his blonde hair and nodded to the balcony.

When you stepped out you found the pasta plated, wine poured, and silverware set neatly on napkins. He’d even picked a few of the roses and placed them in a small glass of water. “How long was I in there?”

With a shrug, Steve pulled the chair out for you and when you sat down and looked up at him, waiting for an answer that he didn’t give, you watched him hesitate before going to sit opposite you. Your tongue ran across your lips, more out of the butterflies wishing you had kissed him than the smell of the food making your mouth water. “So, what do Spaniards say instead of ‘bon appétit’?”

“I think, qué aproveche, but I grew up saying buen provecho.” Steve picked up his glass and you did the same. “Salud!” You cheersed, tapping your glass against his. At first you kept quiet, the pair of you digging in with hums of satisfaction, but as your leg started to bounce under the table you found the question you didn’t want to know the answer to pour past your lips, “Are you just waiting for the team to send the extraction message?”

Steve’s fork hung from his mouth a little and he swallowed. “Yes and no? I have the Quinjet, so I’ll have to get them when they’re ready, but it could be days or longer. It could mean that I need to grab the shield and get to work.” The reality of the danger the team was in with the Maximoff twins working for HYDRA wasn’t lost on him, but two things currently felt more important. First, he needed to find Bucky and do whatever he could to save him. Second, he couldn’t leave you to cope with your grief alone. He’d seen so many people lose someone they loved and though he’d initially told himself that this was his way of doing the same thing Tony had done to help a co-worker through an unbearable situation, Steve was slowly settling into the reality that he looked forward to any time of day you gave him. “But I wanted to be here for you and I know the team can handle following a few leads without me. However long you need me and the rest of the world doesn’t, you’ve got me.”

You bit your lip, eyebrows drawing together, still telling yourself this was Steve doing a favor for a friend and to not read into what he was saying. It hurt, but you felt yourself trying to put up a wall to stop yourself from seeing the kindness of someone you happened to find attractive as more than just kindness. For a moment, you stopped to sip the wine, take a few more bites, and calm down your nerves. Just as he’d done at the bistro, he reached his hand across the table, waiting for you to take it. “I still think that I need you.” Whatever this was, you knew he had given you the first manageable day since you went adrift with fresh grief.

He watched you take his hand, studying your small fingers and how they wrapped around three of his, clinging to him like you had in your sleep. “I still think you need me, too.” But he held it in, trying to focus on you and not confess that he thought maybe, for the first time since he woke up from the ice, he felt like someone really saw him.

The conversation was lighter from there and the two of you decided to walk the cobbled streets to where he’d left the Quinjet so that he could get his bag and gear. As you walked back, hand in hand, you slowed down as a young musician plucked out a beautiful and intricate song on his Spanish guitar. “Can we just… just for a moment. My grandparents would’ve never walked away from this.”

Setting his shield, conveniently hidden in a leather case, and his duffel bag next to the musician, Steve came back to you and held out his hand. “I have no idea how to dance to this, but I’d love to learn if you’ll give me a chance.”

It took every ounce of self-control to not bypass his hands and place yours on either side of his neck so that you could pull his mouth down to yours. A soft, nervous laugh passed your lips, “Full of surprises.” A boyish smile spread across his lips as he did his best to learn and three songs later, the two of you settled into the easy slow dancing that disregarded everything else around you, including time and the small crowd that had joined what, to all others, appeared to be two young lovers lost in their own world.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I’m still shooting for posting a new chapter every Sunday. I would love feedback from you. Do you think they’ll put up a wall before admitting they have feelings? Is someone going to crack first? What’s going to happen when they’re back at the little villa or Stark Tower? I’d love to know where you think this is going.

I mentioned this last time, but while I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina. If you know the history of Venezuela, then you also know its political climate in the last 30+ years has led to a mass diaspora, which is why Reader (who like me was raised in the U.S. with family abroad) has some different phrases than typical Spaniards for things. I hope that my Latinx readers don’t mind and that my non-Latinx readers will stick around.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics​​​

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

[octopodeez]

Wasted Time (Elijah Mikaelson x Reader)

Based on this request:  Can I request a Elijah X reader where the reader is good friends with Elijah and Klaus teases her to be in Love with him, and she acts like Elijah knows and might forces him to play along, turning out they both have feelings for each other but didn't admit it? Klaus playing match maker

Your coven warned you to stay away from New Orleans, but you felt you had a pilgrimage to make. The entire city was known to be bursting at the seams with magic, and you’d dreamt of going since the moment you cast your first spell. You longed to tap into that energy. Maybe even pick the brains of some of the local witches to see what they could teach you.

You also admittedly had a curiosity about the very thing you were warned about: the war. Word spread fast about the city’s chaos once the original family made their return. Vampires and werewolves and witches were battling in the shadows, right under the noses of every tourist and townie. It was fascinating, and you figured a little quiet observation wouldn’t hurt anyone. Your naivety was laughable.

Not 24 hours into your trip did you end up becoming a pawn passed back and forth between the witches and the vampires. A wildcard for every side to use—new blood in the game. It ended with your coven alienating you. They wanted no part in any of it, especially when the original family was involved, and to offer you safe harbor was to bring the bloodshed to them. The witches of New Orleans gave you a similar answer when you desperately sought refuge with them, though, theirs ended with plans to execute you.  

And then there was Elijah. Elijah who found you labeled as a traitor, about to be sacrificed. Elijah who rescued you and gave you his word that he’d keep you safe.

The living situation wasn’t ideal, and you lost the ability to move freely about the city, but over time, you came to like it. Winning over his siblings wasn’t easy, especially Klaus, but after Elijah reminded him that he was the one to drag you into this, he softened slightly.

You did your best to earn your keep, though Elijah insisted you didn’t have to. You’d happily cast spells upon request, but mostly you found yourself cooking and cleaning. It irritated Rebekah to no end when she came around.

My brothers are over 1,000 years old, if they haven’t learned to pick up after themselves by now then they deserve to live in filth, she chided the first time you met. If you must do something, make it to be that you keep to yourself. The less involved with our family you are, the better. Trust me on that.

You nodded along for her benefit, and even took her advice for a bit while she was there. But the second she left again, you were back to making cookies and disposing of bodies.

Occasionally things would quiet down. Someone would propose a flimsy peace treaty, or a faction would be forced to withdraw as they licked their wounds. It was those times that Klaus was at his most dangerous. Without the distractions of war, he had time to turn his attentions to other things…namely your friendship with Elijah.  

At first, he was relatively quiet about it. He’d shoot smug, knowing glances and take the occasional vague jab in one of your directions. But as time went on and his boredom grew, he became far more vocal about what he’d suspected since day one: you and Elijah were in love.

He was half right. You had it bad for his elder brother, and everyone knew, save for Elijah himself. Or rather—he did know and simply chose not to acknowledge it. The latter was more likely. Few were more perceptive than Elijah, and there was absolutely no way he didn’t catch you staring at him as he read or lighting up whenever he walked within six feet of you. You’d come to terms with it quickly, and decided it was probably for the better he didn’t say anything. He’d quickly become your closest friend, and you’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Klaus decided otherwise.

“Your affections for my brother are exhausting, you know,” he said one day. He was leaning against your doorframe with his arms loosely crossed, watching you change your bedsheets.

You sighed and fiddled with a pillowcase. Ignoring him had never made him go away in the past, but you could sure as hell still try.

He remained persistent. “It’s no secret you fancy our dearest Elijah, and your longing stares after him are losing their humor.”

“So you’ve caught me looking at your brother a few times. What’s the big deal?” You snapped.

Klaus clicked his tongue after finally getting the reaction he wanted out of you.

“It seems I’ve struck a nerve, little witch.”

“No, I’m just tired of having this same conversation. I don’t know what you’re hoping to get out of it. Or are you just jealous?” There was venom in your voice and Klaus looked more delighted by the second.

“You’re not my type, love, but thank you for keeping me in your thoughts,” he replied. His sarcasm made your blood boil. “A quick word of advice—my brother seldom opens his heart to others. If you do choose to grow a spine and act upon your feelings…just know I’ll gladly reach down your throat and rip it right back out, should you ever hurt him.”

***

Klaus’s words stuck with you. They kept you up that night and well into the morning as they played in your mind over and over again. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. You knew better than to read into it. Hearts could open for friends just as much as for lovers…but could they really?

“You look conflicted.”

Elijah appeared in the kitchen with impeccable timing, as usual. You had just shoved a large spoonful of cereal in your mouth, and now your cheeks were swollen with Cheerios. A dribble of milk dripped down your chin and you nearly choked as you scrambled to wipe it away. He smiled and waited patiently for you to recover.

“What?” You finally managed. It was the first time you spoke since rolling out of bed and the sound was less than pleasant.

“You look conflicted,” he repeated, and then added “did you not sleep well?”

“Oh, no, I slept fine. Or, I guess I had a little trouble falling asleep…woke up a few times, too. But other than that, fine,” you stammered. Each word was clumsier than the next.

“Mm. Perhaps you should take it easy today. Maybe draw yourself a bath later on. You’re welcome to use the tub in my room. I expect it’s a bit nicer than yours.”

You nearly choked again. In all your fantasies and daydreams, you’d somehow never pictured him in the bath until now. Your mind’s eye was practically whirring with excitement as you envisioned him relaxed. Head leaned back. Eyes shut. Breathing deeply as one arm hung lazily over the porcelain’s edge. The other had its fingers wrapped delicately around the stem of a wine glass, filled with an unmistakable shade of deep red liquid. An empty blood bag lay crumpled and discarded on the floor. Nothing sexual. Nothing romantic. Just the wonderful idea of Elijah experiencing a rare moment of bliss.

He must have heard your heart skip a few beats. The clearing of his throat snapped you back to reality.

“Sorry! Maybe I’ll take you up on, uh, that. I’m not really feeling myself today.”

“You don’t say. What happened?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.”

Elijah stayed quiet for a beat. He looked at you expectantly. Waiting for you to confirm what he already knew: you were full of shit. You pretended not to notice. You’d sit at this table, stubbornly eating the same bowl of Cheerios for an eternity before you willingly gave up the fact that he was the reason for yet another sleepless night.

“I noticed Niklaus coming from the direction of your room last night…so allow me to ask you again. What happened?” His voice was firm and his eyes were narrowed. Had you not known better, you would have almost thought he was jealous.

“Nothing! Klaus was just being Klaus, I don’t know! He stopped by, bugged me while I was trying to clean my room, then left. No conspiracies. No secret love affairs. Nothing new to report.” You chomped down on another spoonful of cereal. Everything came out harsher than you meant it to, but you had no intentions of apologizing.

“Is that so? Because if I recall the conversation I had with my brother last night as he left your room, the placement of your spine was threatened on my behalf…I suppose the question I should be asking isn’t what happened, but for how long?”

You spent so much time daydreaming about Elijah over the short course of your friendship. You pictured a life together. Maybe even an eternity, if he offered to grant it. You imagined what it would be like to feel him drink from you. The way he’d rest his hand on your waist as you drifted to sleep in a shared bed. The taste of his lips between sips of champagne on some far-off beach.

There was a part of you that felt terribly foolish. If something were to happen, it would have happened. He would have acted upon the tension he damn well knew was there. Your relationship was platonic because that was all he wanted it to be. But then there was another part of you. The same part of you that brought you down to New Orleans to begin with. That voice in the depths of your brain that kept whispering Klaus’s words: My brother seldom opens his heart to others.

“A while,” you finally confessed. It felt anticlimactic. Of the thousands of heartfelt speeches you’d planned over the months knowing him, all you could muster was two miserable words.

“I see. And you said nothing.”

“Right.”

Unable to look at him, you grabbed your empty bowl and moved towards the sink, but only made it halfway before he was in front of you, blocking your path.

The way he studied you made you feel small and exposed, a feeling you’d experienced many times in your life, but never to this degree. His body was close to yours. You could feel his breath lightly on your skin. It rippled over every nook and cranny of your being, making your hairs stand on end. If you wanted to, you could reach out and kiss him—and you did want to, badly--but you remined frozen in time, waiting for him to speak.

He never said a word.

His hand found its way to you neck, and he tangled his fingers in your hair as he kissed you. It was tender, but had an underlying fire to it that made your knees buckle. You wrapped your arms around him for support. To draw him in closer, closer, closer, closer, until you had to come up for air. He allowed you to take a breath, just enough to keep your heart pounding, before kissing you again, somehow with even more fervor than before.

When it was finally done, Elijah smiled and held you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head. The side of your neck. The shell of your ear.

There was so much wasted time to make up for.  

I’m not super crazy with how this one turned out, but matchmaker Klaus was a ton of fun to write! If you like what you see, check out my AO3 and master list :)

[warmest-oceans]

A Non-Paradoxical Moment of Accepting Oneself While Falling in Love with a Best Friend

Set in Phuket, a beautiful large island in southern Thailand, I Told Sunset About You already wins the Best Picture category. The island is magnificent on its own — blessed with emerald clear water, bed of white sand, quiet calm breeze, but the island also has the charm of its old town scenery. Every shot feels like it was shot in a new world. The combination of laid-back island life with culturally rich town is visually pleasing.

Aside from its excellent choice of set, the storyline is the true gem here. In the peaceful island of Phuket, we’re brought into the not-so-quiet lives of our two male protagonists, Teh (Billkin Assaratanakul) and Oh-aew (PP Amnuaydechkorn). From the start we know that these two best friends are about to be involved in something that’s bigger than themselves, something that’s uncontrollable and something that will change their lives forever.

It won’t be a 10/10 series if the actors can’t bring the golden storyline to live. The actors who play our male protagonists apparently have been friends since they were teenagers, making every scene they act on-screen believable. The chemistry can be seen clearly with a dash of improvisation here and there by the actors themselves and the magical direction by Boss Kuno, the director of the series.

I can’t really wrap up my introductory of the series without mentioning the amazing soundtrack and scoring. We only have three songs as soundtrack (with different versions) sung by our male protagonists, but the quality is top-notch, you’ll fall for it!

OK, I’m done with my introductory piece. Now, let me gush about this series. To me, I Told Sunset About You has become a coming-of-age story that left a permanent dent in my heart. It’s everything I ask for in a series; a beautiful set, excellent story, magical chemistry, and incredibly fitting soundtrack. Sadly, the series is almost always lumped into BL category, which I find insulting to the series to be honest.

Although I don’t identify myself as a part of LGBTQ+ community, I relate to the series more than I initially thought. Let me be honest, I am INVESTED in this series. Let me just write down the things that I think make this series is in a whole another league.

Self-acceptance in the middle of everything else

The series is great at delivering the moment of being a teenager who’s in the middle of self-discovery, starting to think about the future (the protagonists are in 12th grade), falling in love (hard) for the first time (on top of that, with your very own best friend!), seeking acceptance and validation, and trying to stay afloat at the same time. The topic seems to be nothing out of ordinary, but its ordinariness that brings up its own charm when it’s combined with excellent character development.

We all go through self-discovery and we all try to accept who we are when we’re teenagers — how crazy it was, restless, tiring, but also exhilarating it was. That’s why I think the series will resonate with most people.

I love how the process of the protagonists discovering and accepting themselves also answers the dilemma of falling in love with the best friend. Personally, I believe that I need to love myself first to love another person (note: if you want it to work and if you want the relationship to be a healthy one).

Thanks to this series I had a pleasure of reliving the experience of self-discovery and self-acceptance once again. No kidding, after I watched the series, I did a bit of self-reflection.

Impulsiveness

I think the first emotion that the series successfully portrayed is the impulsiveness of hot-blooded teens. I love how chaotic and erratic Teh and Oh-aew can be. One day they’re best friend, tomorrow? Who knows. Everything is a mess and everything is truly a collection of fleeting temporary moments.

Nobody in the series got their shit together and it’s supposed to be like that. Nobody figures out shit when they are in 12th grade. Everyone in the series is scattered, explosive, tortured, yet sensitive and delicate at the same time. It really reminds me of my own 12th grade moments!

Most of teens would act out of their gut reactions and that’s exactly what the characters do in this series. They’re not perfectly groomed and planned. So if you’re no longer in your teenage years or maybe if you’re in your 30s, you may find some of their actions to be silly and atrocious even. Tip: try to remember your teenage years. Try to remember all the stupid things you did in 12th grade. It helps you understand the characters.

Jealousy among friends is real and valid

I rarely see a show can realistically execute the side story of jealousy in friendship or even rivalry. Sometimes it’s too mean, sometimes it’s not even brought up (mostly being avoided in a story). I Told Sunset About You portrays jealousy in the most relatable way, through microexpressions. Through Oh-aew’s subtle glance at Teh and Ma or through Teh’s smile when talking to Oh-aew. Really, kudos to the whole team!

Naivety that leads to boldness

I think we can all agree that we’re much bolder when we’re younger, no? That’s because we have this naivety vested in us. Like trying to learn how to ride a bike for the first time, we don’t think much about the risk, we just want to have fun with the bike. We think adults will catch us when we fall anyway.

It’s another thing from the series that makes me fall in love with it. These flawed characters, probably in their 17 or 18, think that everything will be sorted out eventually. While, we adult know that most of the time, we clean our own mess. You’ll know what I’m talking about in episode 4.

Everyone got their own idea of first love

I think love is a complex, hard-to-understand feeling for everyone in every age, let alone for a bunch of 12th graders. Deeply impressed with how the series handles the tenderness and also the chaos of first love. How the series shows different outcomes of loving romantically for the first time is also admirable.

Teh stole my heart. At first, he was so certain about his feeling. He was calm, loving, and patient, the best you could be when you’re in love. But later when he’s in turmoil with himself, he becomes petty, awkward, and impulsive. He thought he loved, but turned out, it wasn’t even the kind of love he’d imagined.

I’m the main character

No character in this series is a filler. Everyone got their own dream and ambitions. Tarn, the female character isn’t just an obstacle between our protagonists. She’s a fully-developed character, an independent woman that works hard for her dream and a dynamic person. Bas, a male character, a good friend of Oh-aew has his own likings and dream. He’s good at some things. He acts on his own. Everyone is the main character in their own world and it’s evident in the series.

Symbolism and color theory

This wouldn’t be one of my favorite series without hidden meanings, symbolism, and color theory. Almost every scene and every material placement is intentional in this series. I won’t talk about it much because it’ll spoil the fun of you finding them.

Nostalgia

I had fun watching, crying, smiling, and laughing throughout the episodes the way they are. Aside from warmth and the feeling of awe, maybe the production crew doesn’t realize that it also makes me feeling nostalgic.

It reminds me of how futile and just fragile some of the moments from my youth were. They looked like big deals when I was in my 17, but now they are just dust. They really don’t matter in the next 5 years.

It reminds me of how insanely good falling in love felt like. It was intense yet tender, messy yet everything fell into pieces perfectly. The feeling that you want to give the person the world, but sometimes that world isn’t what the other person wants or needs. The feeling that you can almost do anything for this person. The suffocating feeling of not knowing what to do, but want to do everything for the other person. The liberating feeling of falling into the abyss. The feeling of surrender… completely.

The series makes me remember how exciting and scary it was when I realized I fell in love with one of my best friends, how confusing it was to even talk to him the next day after the realization. I just wanted to be with him ever since. Nobody could take that away from me and everything just didn’t make sense anymore in my head, just like how Teh and Oh-aew felt.

As you can see, I only have good words for the series. I hope, after watching the series, you’ll feel various emotions but hopefully… they’re all good and warm, because that’s how I felt. I also think that the production crew tried really hard to deliver a heartwarming series (please watch the documentaries/their behind the scene videos, it’s amazing!). I hope this series can be a newfound joy for you.

[flowerslut]

DAY FIVE: ANGEL/DEMON Rating: T for language. Words: 3,728

A/N: Again: it’s not cheating if it’s on theme! Here’s chapter two of Edge of It All. (Read chapter one here)

EDGE OF IT ALL

Dinner that night was rough. Jasper, to his benefit, had been raised with enough manners to know not to leave the table until dismissed; he might have been defiant at times but he wasn’t into dramatic displays of brattiness. So when Wilson started to rant about how badly he’d needed Jasper to listen and how thoroughly he’d been let down today, Jasper simply sat there and took it like a man. He’d made his choices, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

And usually, the consequences began and ended at ‘a firm talking to’. 

At least now, in a harmless little town like this, the worst thing he could get into was school trouble. He had old foster parents who hadn’t expected him to make it through middle school, and there he was, months away from graduating high school. The fact that they weren’t astonished with his progress was frustrating to him on most days, but then again, they’d received Jasper in their care months after he’d already dug himself out of rock bottom.

They didn’t know how good they had it with him right now, he realized miserably as he picked at the roasted cauliflower on the plate in front of him.

Eventually the topic switched from Jasper’s shortcomings to random anecdotes from Wilson’s and Meg’s workdays. While Wilson worked at the urgent care clinic at the edge of town, Meg was a teacher at the elementary school. It had been a baffling thing at first to Jasper, who knew the woman swore like a sailor and could put away more wine than anyone he’d ever met, but it made sense when she shared stories about her day.

She actually appeared to like children.

It made Jasper wonder how disappointed the couple had been when their first placement had been a delinquent teenager as opposed to a cute little toddler.

There was a lull in conversation then, and Jasper took his chance. “You guys have my medical records right?”

The couple exchanged a look. “Of course we do,” Wilson wiped his mouth with a napkin as he spoke, still chewing a bite of food. “Why do you ask?”

Jasper half-shrugged. “None of my other foster parents let me see them. I wanted to know if I was allowed to.”

He’d turned eighteen a couple of months ago but had been allowed to remain under Meg and Wilson’s care. It was a mutually beneficial agreement, really. Wilson and Meg could still receive compensation for housing him even though he worked part-time and fully supported himself as best as he could already. And Jasper was still allowed to stay with the couple.

His social worker, a nice older guy Jasper had known for a few years now, had recommended the extension.

So far the plan was to get Jasper to graduation, through the summer, and hopefully onto school in the fall. As the months passed though, Jasper knew his chances of scoring any sort of scholarship, or even gaining acceptance into any University in or out of state (with or without taking out loans) slowly dwindled.

“How about this?” Meg proposed, lifting her red wine to her lips before continuing. “What is it? Tuesday? Make it through to Friday without skipping any classes and Wilson will get them for you this weekend.”

Jasper gritted his teeth at the proposal. He had to remind himself that Meg wasn’t withholding the information to be cruel. It was a simple request, really. But that didn’t mean Jasper enjoyed having her dangle this type of information above him in exchange for ‘good behavior’.

He wondered if he could just text Greg—his social worker—and go around his foster parents, but Jasper bit back a sigh as he knew Greg would likely agree with the motivation behind Meg’s proposition.

“Fine,” he agreed quietly, dread already pooling low in his stomach as he thought of tolerating the remainder of the school week without interruption.

That night he had trouble sleeping.

He woke up several times, expecting to see red eyes watching his every move, but instead all he did was sit up, calming himself as he caught his breath and swore outwardly into the silent room.

Truthfully the main reason he wanted his records was to see if he had any diagnoses he didn’t know about. It was fully possible that he actually was crazy and that he was simply never told. The chance that he’d hallucinated the demon girl in the woods was still there as long as he didn’t have those records.

And if they came up clean he wondered if he’d be able to somehow find and see his birth parent’s medical records. He already knew addiction ran in his blood—it’s why he avoided drugs, even one a simple as weed, like the goddamn plague—but if either of his parents had been actually psychotic, it would help Jasper to figure out if his mind was also a ticking time bomb.

The rest of the week at school was long and arduous. He held up his end of the bargain just the way he agreed. He didn’t skip one single class. Principal Shafer even commended him on his attendance by the middle of the day on Thursday, as if it were something Jasper was supposed to be happy or feel proud over.

Instead it just irritated him and he’d nearly picked a fight with one of Colson’s buddies in Spanish class. Thankfully—or perhaps it was a bit of a disappointment, really—he was more fluent than everyone else besides Mrs. Posner, so when he insulted the sandy haired fuckhead in front of the class in Spanish, she had been the only one to gasp and reprimand him.

It was worth it for the frustration that rolled off Parker for the rest of the class, irritated that out of the two people who could tell him what Jasper had said, Mrs. Posner had outright refused, simply giving Jasper an after school detention and resuming the lesson.

Maybe he should worry more about his Spanish grade, but Jasper knew that if he got anything less than an A in this class it wouldn’t be due to lack of knowledge…

After the final bell rang, Jasper sat on the stairs outside, watching as the kids who didn’t drive—usually the underclassmen and the poorer kids—piled onto one of two busses that brought kids home from Forks high. He knew he only had a couple of minutes before the driver got sick of waiting for Jasper to join him and simply left without him, but Jasper was going to push his luck today if it meant he could have a moment of peace without constant chatter going on around him.

He’d left his headphones at home that morning and had been pissed about it all day.

Jasper’s gaze wandered the parking lot then, and when his eyes met a golden pair, he found himself staring back.

It was Rosalie Hale. Standing next to her was her younger sister—or was it cousin?—Bella. 

At least Bella had the decency of looking away when Jasper’s eyes fell upon them. She wasn’t as outgoing as Emmett was, but the girl was at least polite. Rosalie on the other hand always baffled Jasper.

Back in Oakland a girl that hot would’ve been running the school. But Rosalie kept to herself, did her work perfectly, and minded her business. Occasionally she’d hurt the pride of some unsuspecting fool who didn’t believe the rumors that Rosalie Hale and Emmett Cullen were actually an item—“it’s disgusting,” Jessica Stanley had explained to him on one of his first days, “they live together. It’s like dating your sibling; so, so weird”—and Jasper had even heard a rumor that once she’d had to physically get her point across to a handsy senior a couple years back.

The story went like this: she’d broken his nose, and a couple ribs, and no one had messed with Rosalie Hale since.

Now, she stared back at him with a glare that very much resembled the one Edward had been shooting him a few days prior.

He resisted the urge to shrug and mouth an irritated ‘what?’ before she opened the door to her red beamer and disappeared inside.

One thing that had frustrated Jasper even more about this week was the eyes he felt on him at all hours of the day. And not just from his classmates who were stunned to see him actually attending class, but from the goddamn Cullens.

The more he caught them staring, the more he found himself wondering what the fuck their deal was. And the more he wondered, the more he thought back to Tuesday afternoon in the woods.

Either he was actually crazy and paranoia was beginning to seep into his subconsciousness and force him into thinking he was being watched, or Edward and Emmett knew something Jasper didn’t.

The odds of them also having seen that demon girl increased more and more every day as they appeared in his peripheral during random intervals throughout the week.

Even on the days when Jasper worked after school the Cullens had, just this week, started shopping in that very mini-mart. After almost two months of the store being open and never having seen them in it before, Jasper was beginning to get suspicious.

Or paranoid, he had to remind himself. There was a very likely reason he was being actually insane about this whole thing.

But that night, when he got home from work—thanking Ben Cheney for the ride home and tossing a couple of bills his way for gas money—he was so exhausted that he didn’t even care that he’d done it. That he’d made it though the school week without skipping. He just wanted to sleep for two days. He was so tired he didn’t even feel as if the trade—his attendance for his records—was even worth it anymore.

He was so tired that he almost didn’t notice the red-eyed demon girl sitting on his bed until he’d already tossed his backpack across the room, his keys onto his desk, and his shoes into the corner.

When he looked up and met her eyes, he startled slightly, shuffling back before freezing under her gaze.

“Don’t scream.” She whispered so quietly he almost didn’t hear her speak. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How the fuck did you get in here?” He asked, his voice shaking as he blindly pawed at the wall behind him for the light switch. A part of him hoped and prayed that this was his mind playing tricks on him and that once the light flicked on she’d vanish. But when his hands found the switch, turning the light attached to his ceiling fan on and illuminating the room, he felt his stomach jump up into his throat.

She was still there. And her eyes that appeared to be glowing before in the dark were still as bright as ever.

Her hands were folded in her lap as she sat on the edge of his bed. She was so short that her feet didn’t even reach the ground. She was still barefoot, but at least her clothes were dry this time. The same clothes she’d been wearing earlier that week.

“The window,” she provided simply, her bell-like voice soft. “I’m serious when I say I’m not going to hurt you.” There was a pause as Jasper’s fear went haywire and his heart rate skyrocketed. “Oh,” she covered her ears then, squeezing her eyes shut, “please don’t do that. It’s hard enough to be around you as it is.”

“Why the fuck are you in here? How did—”

“Shh,” Jasper didn’t even see as she moved, she just suddenly did. And before he could react she was standing directly in front of him, her tiny hand pressed against his mouth to keep him from speaking. “They’re going to hear you.”

Jasper’s mind went to Meg and Wilson, who were watching a movie downstairs; it was what they did every night before bed. If the same thing happened and they followed the sound of his noises only to find him terrified of an empty room, they might come to a different conclusion than the Cullen boys did. Instead of advising him against tempting bears they might have him put in some sort of psych ward.

And Jasper did not want to go to the looney bin, even if he was crazy.

Slowly, the girl removed her ice-cold hand from Jasper’s mouth and in the blink of an eye she was back on his bed. The bed creaked and groaned, the mattress bouncing the girl slightly from where she’d too-quickly-for-his-eyes-to-catch launched herself back onto it.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“You’re real,” Jasper couldn’t shake the feeling of her firm, cold hand against his face, and now, even though he was still frozen, he could feel his fear slowly ebbing. “You’re actually a real person.”

The demon girl made an exasperated noise. “Of course I am! What did you think I was? Imaginary!” She almost sounded amused by the idea. Then, she paused, her eyes staring at some point behind him for a few seconds. Long enough for Jasper to notice and for his fear to begin to resurface once more. “We should probably be a little quieter,” she commented again, her voice just barely above a whisper.

Not wanting to take his eyes off the girl, Jasper reached behind him and flicked another switch, turning the ceiling fan on and providing them with some small amount of white-noise. Not enough to cover up too much, but his foster parents certainly wouldn’t hear a soft-spoken conversation over it.

Alice’s eyes lost focus and then quickly refocused as she turned to smile up at him. “Thank you.”

Jasper was stunned at her smile, suddenly feeling very conflicted over the fact that this terrifying weird red-eyed girl was so strangely gorgeous. “Who are you?”

Alice’s smile fell immediately. “Oh.” Then, her eyes fell to her hands, still clasped primly in her lap. “So you don’t know…”

“Of course not!” He blurted out before remembering he needed to be quiet, and lowering his voice, “We’ve never met before.” He took one uneasy step further into his bedroom. “I mean, besides the other day.”

“I just,” she sighed. “I thought you might know. But I suppose it wouldn’t make any sense now, would it?”

“You know my name,” he accused, taking another step into the room. For some reason he felt far more confident when she wasn’t looking at him with those red, haunting eyes. She was a tiny thing, after all. Likely barely five feet tall, and she looked like she barely weighed 100 pounds, if even that. “Who are you?”

“I’m Alice,” she spoke her name quietly. “I’ve been looking for you for a little while now.”

Jasper swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. “How long is a while?”

“About four moons now.”

That caused Jasper to stop. “What?”

Alice looked up at him again, confusion etched carefully onto her doll-like features. “Sorry. I’m learning people track time differently, but I’m not sure how.” Then, she gestured upward, toward the sky. “You know, the moon?”

There was a brief pause before he forced himself to reply. “I know what the moon is.”

“It’s been big four times now.”

Jasper felt his brain skid to a stop before stuttering back into motion, attempting to decipher what on Earth she was talking about. Four full moons? Is that what she was counting? Is that how she kept time? “Big? As in, a full circle?” He gestured vaguely with his hand as he spoke. Alice nodded. “So… four months?”

“A month,” Alice spoke the word delicately, as if testing it on her tongue, and smiled. “Yes. A month. It’s been more than four of them.”

“Since… you started looking for me?”

“Yes!” She whispered excitedly, as if remembering to keep her voice down. “And since I woke up!”

“I…” she’d lost him again. “Woke up?”

She nodded, her happiness beginning to display itself in other, more physical ways. She was now kicking her feet out slightly, letting the backs of her heels knock against the base of his bed. It was a soundless movement, but still, it unnerved him somehow. The kicks were too even, too perfect…

“Yes! And then I saw you and knew I had to find you as soon as I could. Of course, I should’ve reached out to Dr. Cullen first. He’ll be quite upset with me when he learns what I’ve done.”

“Dr. Cullen?” That was certainly a development. “You mean, Carlisle Cullen?”

Alice nodded rapidly. “Oh, I’m so excited to meet him! I’m hoping he’ll let me stay if I promise to be good.”

“Alice, nothing that you’re saying is making any sense.” If this was a hallucination than Jasper knew nothing he could do would help him at this point. Instead, he walked over to his desk and pulled out his chair, sitting himself down in it roughly before letting his face fall into his hands. “I have no idea what’s going on,” he muttered into his palms as he shook his head. “So you know the Cullens?”

“Yes! I’m afraid they don’t know me yet,” she seemed regrettable to inform him of that detail, but quickly she spoke up, “but they’re going to love me. They’ll be our new family and—” she cut herself off then. “It’s probably too soon to tell you that.”

“It isn’t fucking stopping you from doing it now, is it?” Lifting his head back up he leaned back into the chair and swiveled it toward her. “Are you deranged?”

“Deranged?”

“Crazy, insane, unstable, disturbed…” he listed the words off irritably, folding his arms over his chest as he stared back at her. “Are you a maniac?”

“I don’t know,” she seemed stressed at the admission, and it forced a strange guilt to catch his next words in his throat. But he wasn’t being irrational, he had to remind himself. She was the one that had broken into his room. 

“What do you know then?”

“That I’m supposed to find you.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure if telling you right now is a good idea,” she whispered the words so quietly Jasper almost didn’t hear. “I don’t want you to reject me.”

Once more stunned into silence by her strange insecurity, Jasper stared at her. He wasn’t scared anymore. Instead, confusion overpowered all other reason. He just wanted to know who and what she was, and why the fuck she’d sought him out.

Alice pouted as her eyes lost focus once more. “Oh,” she gasped as her head turned toward the window, “Oh, I am in so much trouble.” Instantly, she was on her feet.

“What are you?” She looked human, but she moved so fast sometimes he couldn’t even keep up with his eyes.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Her words were spoken in a rush, and quickly she was standing in front of him again. She was so slight that even though he was sitting and she was standing she was just barely taller than he was. Before he knew it his hands were in hers. “Please, please believe me when I say I’m not going to hurt you, okay? And that I’m only here because I know it’s supposed to be this way. And—” she paused, hesitating—“if they want to know anything, just tell them the truth, alright? Edward will see it anyways.”

“What are you talking about? Who—Alice—”

But before he could ask another question she was gone in another blink of an eye.

It was a handful of seconds later when his gaze shot up—something had flashed across the window, startling him into his feet. Finally able to react properly, he reached in his back pocket and grabbed his pocket knife, flicking it open as he steadily approached the window. He had a very firm suspicion that it wasn’t Alice.

Something was out there, and Jasper wasn’t about to take anymore of this fucking insanity sitting down.

With his hand outstretched, knife pointing toward the window, he shuffled his feet forward. His window faced out toward the backyard, a series of trees decorating the edge of it, separating his foster parents’ yard from their neighbors’.

Jasper stood at the edge of his bedroom, almost not daring to get too close to the window as he struggled to see what was out there. Eyes catching on one of the trees Jasper watched as the tree shook and a few birds flew out of it.

He almost didn’t see the person standing by the edge of the neighbor’s house. It was too dark to make out who—or what—it was, but there was no way that it was Mrs. Connelly; the woman who lived in the house directly behind theirs.

Jasper continued to stare down at it, and when he saw another black shadow step around the first, larger silhouette, he nearly jumped.

“What the fuck is going on,” he felt himself say out loud, and in seconds, both forms disappeared from the yard, gone without a trace.

If he were more of a fool he would go after them. Sneak back down the stairs and into the backyard and demand whatever leftover demons there were in hiding to come out and explain to him what the fuck was happening, but Jasper had no idea what he was getting himself into anyways.

Even now, Alice’s words unsettled him. “If they want to know anything just tell them the truth.”

Tell who the truth?

As he closed his curtains and quickly changed out of his work clothes, Jasper found himself keeping the knife close, even placing it next to his pillow beside him after he eventually forced himself to climb into his bed.

There was still a chance that he actually was crazy. Just, next-level crazy, in which not only were his hallucinations visual and auditory, but physical somehow, as well.

He hoped Wilson would get those medical records this weekend as promised, because Jasper had a hell of a lot of questions, and so far, no answers.

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 3

More Visitors

Summary: The Beaumonts find out about Riley’s condition

A/N: I know the last chapter was Liam and Drake, but their first encounter with Riley is actually here, in the preview. Check it out if you haven’t yet!

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warning: Mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @loudbluebirdlover @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @hopelessromanticmonie @cinnamonspongecake

- Maxwell - 

“If it be true that thee shall not cease insulting mine own family nameth, then I dare thee to a battleth!”

“A hurlyburly thee sayeth? Well, then I'll seeth thee on the dueling ground!”

“Ah, but this isn't a normal battleth, because I dare thee to a breakdance hurlyburly!” 

“But I knoweth not how to doth the breaketh danceth!”

“Thou art a blinking idiot, and were bound to loseth!” 

“Uncle Max, why do I always have to play the character that loses?” Bartie tosses his copy of the script on the coffee table. 

“Because I’m the one with the killer dance moves!” Maxwell strikes a pose. “You only get to where I am after a lifetime of practice, muffin, and you’ve still got a long way to go.”

“But can’t you lose to me at least once?” Bartie picks up the booklet and starts flipping through the pages. “Like how you pretended to lose to Count Appleton in a rap battle, but then won against him in another rap battle in the next scene!”

“That was to catch him off-guard! I gained his trust and then his respect,” Maxwell argues

“Don’t you want my character’s trust and respect?”

“Your character keeps insulting my character’s family name!” Maxwell cries.

“Whatever.” He throws the booklet back down. “I’m going go to my room for a little while.” 

“Wanna run through your fork placement again?” 

“No, I’m okay. I’ve got it down. Thank you, though.” Bartie heads up the stairs towards his room.

“I’ll see you at dinner, muffin,” Maxwell calls. He plops onto the couch and begins to reread his script as Savannah walks into the room. 

“So how was rehearsal?” she questions. “Did you get a chance to teach Bartie that move you were talking about?”

He shakes his head. “No, we didn’t get to it. Don’t think the little muffin is interested in breakdancing, so I won’t bother him anymore.” 

Savannah doesn’t say anything. Maxwell had started working on his breakdance opera years ago after he tried to finish his novel but then gave up on it, claiming the topic was too depressing. He tried his best to get Bartie interested in his opera, even though Bertrand said it wasn’t appropriate for a boy of his status to be learning how to breakdance instead of perfecting the Cordonian Waltz. In the beginning, Bartie was thrilled that he got to spend more time with his Uncle Maxwell, but as time went on the boy became bored and started to look more towards Uncle Drake for some fun — which Bertrand thought was even more inappropriate (”My boy should be learning how to properly host the royal family, not learning how cut wood or put up a tent!”), though he allowed it after Savannah insisted — and so Maxwell felt increasingly alone at Ramsford.

He could spend some time with Liam and Drake in the capital, but both men were so closed off lately that the air around them would become stifling. He wanted to plan a trip to Shanghai so the Beaumonts could visit Hana, but Bertrand was always so caught up with maintaining the estate — and he never let Maxwell help him — that a moment to relax as a family was uncommon. 

At dinner, Bartie half-heartedly explained to his father how his lessons had gone. Bertrand asked Bartie if he wanted to do some work with him tonight, just to get a feel of what it was like to run the estate, but Bartie simply shrugged and walked off without finishing his dinner. 

Bertrand was about to go after him and demand Bartie to return to his seat, but Savannah put a hand on his shoulder and told her husband to let the boy go. 

“He’s not feeling too well lately,” she reasoned. “Let him go. If he wants to talk to us he will.” 

“There is no reason for him to be behaving in such a manner. I will remind him tomorrow morning, and I will make sure he sits with me... he needs to learn how to run the house sooner or later, and the former would be most preferable.” Bertrand took a sip of his wine. 

Even though House Beaumont’s finances had improved tremendously over time, Bertrand was still obsessed with keeping everything in order, almost desperate to make sure there was no chance of any sort of decline happening again. He wouldn’t hear anyone who tried to tell him that he should take a break or loosen up a little.

“Go easy on him,” Maxwell suggests. “He’s been working really hard on his lessons and barely gets any time to go outside.”

“He needs to spend his time learning all he can so he can be a reputable duke when the time comes!”

“Bertrand, please,” Savannah says. “He’s just having a couple bad days. It’s normal.” 

Bertrand sighs. “I don’t understand why he feels this way. Just last week he was fine. What happened now?”

“He went to Drake’s this weekend, so maybe he misses him,” Savannah speculates. 

“I’ll call him up later,” Maxwell declares. “It’s been a while since I’ve talked to my old pal. I kinda miss him, too.”

The three finish their meal in quiet, but Maxwell sits impatiently for the moment he could jump up and go call Drake. 

After their plates were taken away, Maxwell said his good nights to Savannah and Bertrand and raced up the stairs towards Bartie’s room.

He knocks on the door and waits for Bartie to unlock it. “Yes?” Bartie says. 

“I thought we could give Uncle Drake a call! It’s been a couple days since you’ve seen him and it’s been a while since I’ve talked to him.”

“It’s barely been two days,” Bartie scoffs. “But alright, I guess.”

Bartie goes to sit next to Maxwell on the edge of the bed and leans in while they wait for Drake to answer the FaceTime call. 

He declines the call. Maxwell calls again, Drake declines again.

“Maybe he’s busy?” Bartie wonders aloud.

“It’s more likely that he just doesn’t want me bothering him.” Maxwell’s phone vibrates. “He texted me!”

On flight. Will call in morning.

“He’s traveling? Where? Do you think His Majesty sent him away again?” Bartie asks.

“I don’t really know. Hopefully he’ll keep his promise and call back in the morning. Until then there’s not much we can do.” Maxwell sighs and stands up, ruffling Bartie’s hair. “Good night, muffin. Sleep well.”

In his room, Maxwell lays in bed thinking of all the places Drake could be going. Olivia was the one who led independent investigations and never told anything to anyone else until she was sure of what she had, so it was unlikely Drake had gone to find something upon her suggestion. Maxwell had tried to reach out to Riley through social media, but soon after he contacted her, she’d deleted all of her accounts, blocked his number, and blocked his email — then when they tried to trace her number through Olivia’s phone, they reached a dead end. 

Drake on the other hand, did work together with Maxwell and Olivia, but also with the division of the King’s Guard that Liam had made to search for Riley. Their king was constantly sending out people to thoroughly examine every place that yielded even the smallest hint of a lead. Rarely was anything found, and when it was, it was either useless or highly questionable.

Recently, they were having difficulty finding new leads — they had already checked so many places around the world that it was hard to think of any place they may have disregarded. That was when Liam and Drake started distancing themselves even further. Maxwell knew they usually spent time together near the end of the week, but when Drake suggested Bartie visit over the weekend, Maxwell knew that both men had started losing hope.

The next morning during another quiet meal, Maxwell noticed Savannah stealing glances at her son.

“Did Uncle Drake call you back yet?” Bartie directed his question towards Maxwell.

“No,” Maxwell said, his mouth stuffed with blueberries and waffles. “I’ll check in on him in a few.” 

Bertrand continued the conversation by telling everyone what he planned to do for the rest of the day. Maxwell could tell that he was trying to get Bartie to want to work with him. He was glad Bertrand wasn’t pushing Bartie too much, and was sure that Savannah had probably talked to him about it last night.

After breakfast, Maxwell gave Drake a call, but it went straight to voicemail. Maxwell left a message asking Drake to get back to him. 

In an attempt to get Bartie out of the house before his tutor showed up, Maxwell went to his door and tried to persuade his nephew to go on a jog with him.

“Maybe later,” Bartie called out from inside his room. “I’m a little tired right now.”

Some time after noon, Drake still hadn’t called back. Finishing his lunch, Maxwell decides to give Drake a call to make sure everything was alright.

The phone rings for so long Maxwell thinks Drake isn’t going to answer, but then hears his voice from the other side: “Hey, Maxwell.”

“Drake!” Maxwell shouts. “What’s happening? You said you’d call this morning but then you didn’t.”

“Sorry about that,” Drake’s voice doesn’t seem directed at Maxwell, who can tell that he’s distracted. “Got caught up.” There’s people talking in the background, but Maxwell can’t tell who it is or what they’re saying.

“So where did you fly off to?” he asks. 

Drake doesn’t answer. The people in the background keep talking. After a few seconds, Drake’s voice is more purposeful when he says to Maxwell, “Listen. Liam and I are in New York. We’re with Riley.”

The rest of Drake’s monologue cuts out as her name echoes through Maxwell’s mind. 

Riley? Our Riley? They found little blossom? How long has it been? Ten years? Almost eleven? Feels like a hundred.

Are they there to bring her back? Does she even want to come back? Would she want to see me, the person who set in motion the series of events that led to her name being dragged through the mud, to her disappearance, to heartbreak?

“New York?” Maxwell finally brings himself to speak through the lump in his throat. “Little blossom’s in New York? When did you find out?”

“Like I said, we found out just last night.” Maxwell didn’t want to mention that he wasn't listening when Drake had said that. 

“Is... is she alright? Have you talked to her? What did she say?”

“Pay attention, Maxwell,” Drake scolds through his teeth.

“I was paying attention! But if you would be so kind as to repeat what you said....”

“She was visiting a museum and there was a bomb. She’s in New York Presbyterian, and we’re here, too. She got a serious head injury and had surgery on Sunday. Her legs are pretty beat up, but the doctor says some rest will help her get back on her feet within a few weeks.”

“Where is she?” Maxwell yells. “Are you with her?”

Drake sighs. “No, not at the moment. The doctor and a nurse checked her and said they wanted to take her for another CT scan to see if there was anything they might have overlooked.”

“So you... you didn’t speak to her at all?”

“I didn’t, no, but Liam did before they took her away. He won’t tell me what she said.”

“So she is talking, right? She’s alright, technically? Nothing permanent?”

“I don’t know, Maxwell. I’ll let you know what happens when they bring her back.”

“Let me talk to her. I want to see my little blossom,” Maxwell requests. Drake says something, but his voice is far away. He’s talking to someone else, and doesn’t bring the phone back to his ear. “Drake? Hello?”

The line disconnects. Maxwell stands there, shocked. His feet were rooted in place as he stares down at his phone. 

Did they really find Riley? If they did, could they convince her to return?

I was the one who convinced her to come to Cordonia in the first place. I should be there helping bring her back.

“BERTRAND!” Maxwell shrieks, running out the room towards the study.

“What happened?” Savannah screams as Maxwell flies past her. 

“BERTRAND!” he calls again, announcing his arrival.

When he opens the door to the study, Bertrand is on the phone, staring at Maxwell with a grim face. “My apologies, sir, but I will have to call you back,” he says to the person on the other end, hanging up. He stands. “What on Earth was that Maxwell? I’m on an important phone call and you come dashing in, screeching my name like a banshee! Do you understand how incompetent that looks?”

Maxwell knows he’s about to be at the receiving end of another one of Bertrand’s never-ending lectures, but he doesn’t care. He’s jittery and out of breath, but in between pants manages to say, “Liam and Drake found Riley. They’re with her right now. We have to go.”

Stunned, Bertrand takes a step back. “Riley?! Uh, er... Lady Riley?” He clears his throat, composing himself, but can’t get the words out. “They’ve... they’ve.... Where is she? His Majesty is with her?”

“In New York. Yes, he's there with Drake.” 

Bertrand blinks. He finally manages a solemn voice and asks, “She is well, I hope?”

Maxwell shakes his head. Moments pass, with Bertrand deep in thought. Maxwell worries about what his brother will say next.

“Everything alright in here?” Savannah walks in. “Saw Maxwell run past and wanted to make sure that nothing was wrong.” 

“His Majesty and Drake have found Lady Riley.” Bertrand’s voice is more prominent now.

“What?” Savannah brings a hand over her mouth.

Confidently, he declares, “Maxwell and I will be joining them in New York as soon as possible. I am sorry to leave you and Bartie, my dear,” he sighs, “but we must go. She is still House Beaumont, after all.”

After a moment, Savannah says, “We’ll come with you. I want to see her, too, and I know Bartie would enjoy the trip.” 

Bertrand’s mind is already racing, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell his wife that he wants her to stay here. She seemed certain of herself, and so he would not dissuade her. “Alright then,” he replies.

“Aw yeah!” Maxwell cries. “Family vacation!” 

“Yes, yes, now go pack,” Bertrand commands. “I’ll prepare a flight for us. We must go quickly. Time is of the essence.”

... 

On the flight, Maxwell and Bertrand anxiously look out of their windows. Savannah talks to Bartie about the appeals of New York — after him and his mother had come back from Paris, the family had never taken Bartie out of Cordonia, and since Bertrand was persistent in having Bartie receive his education at the hands of tutors, the boy was never given the time to travel with his family, nor did he have any friends who could either relate to him or tell him tales of their travels.

Eventually, Bartie gets tired and takes a nap. Maxwell feels tired as well, but the excitement to see Riley again doesn’t stop sending jolts through his body. They were so close to her. So close to having her with them, and having everything be the way it should have been from the beginning.

Hours later, he wakes up Bartie and tells him that they’ve landed.

Once they’re out of the airport, Bertrand manages to tag down a driver. They drop off Savannah and Bartie at the hotel where they got a last minute reservation. When Maxwell and Bertrand are outside the hospital, Maxwell jumps out of the car and races inside. 

“Maxwell!” Bertrand calls in a stiff whisper. Maxwell slows down and matches Bertrand’s pace. They walk up to the receptionist, who’s having a discussion with a doctor. They wait for her to notice them, and after a few moments Maxwell debates running off to try and find Riley’s room himself, but Bertrand clears his throat and asks, “Excuse me, could either one of you direct me towards Miss Riley Brooks? She’s a patient here, I believe.”

The doctor looks up. “Are one of you her designated support person?”

“No, not exactly—.”

“We’re family.” Maxwell chimes in. “We just heard what happened and flew in from Europe.”

“Visiting hours are over,” the doctor says. “You fellas can come back at nine in the morning. ‘Til then I can’t help you.” 

“You will tell me where she is or you will face the wrath of House Beaumont’s lawyers!” Bertrand shouts.

“Beaumont? That your last name?” the doctor interrogates.

“Yes and—.”

“The lady’s last name is Brooks. Clearly, you guys aren’t family. I’m gonna need you two to leave. Unless you want me to get security?”

Bertrand looks at the doctor, fuming, ready to give him the worst tongue lashing the man has ever experienced, but someone grips his and Maxwell’s shoulders. 

“They’re with me, Doc,” Drake says. “I’ll take them to Miss Brooks and there’ll be no more trouble. Sorry for the inconvenience.” 

Drake leads the two of them away from reception and towards the ICU. 

“Drake!” Maxwell exclaims, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks for that. We really needed it.” 

“Yes,” Bertrand adds. “It was much appreciated. Now, where is Lady Riley?”

“Did they find everything alright after the CT scan?” Maxwell asks. 

Drake sighs. “Riley’s asleep right now. Today must have been stressful for her, I imagine. You guys can talk to her in the morning.” 

Maxwell is about to repeat his question when he notices Liam sitting in the ICU waiting room, looking at the floor. “Liam!” he calls. 

When Liam looks up, Maxwell looks in shock at his red, swollen eyes. 

“What happened?” Maxwell breathes. The air in his lungs is suddenly painful.

“She—,” he looks back down and speaks slowly, as if every word sent a stab to his chest. “She didn’t remember me. She looked me right in the eye and asked me who I was.” His voice cracks, and he puts his head in his hands.

Maxwell takes a seat next to Liam, but says nothing. Bertrand stands in shock, staring at his king breaking down. Brows furrowed in confusion, he looks at Drake. “What does that mean?”

“She lost her memory.” Drake answered in a quiet voice. Every word seemed to break him. “The doctors didn’t tell us everything, but they told us that they doubted she even knew who she was. After they brought her from the CT scan and explained everything to her, she started crying. Her mother was there, too. She’s actually a nurse here. They’ve decided to question her tomorrow, to try and figure out what she remembers and doesn’t remember. Some detectives are also coming in to question a couple victims. They’re hoping to find some information, or at least something that’ll help them connect some dots.”

“Little blossom doesn’t know who we are?” Maxwell asks, as his shoulders begin to shake. 

Bertrand manages to maintain his composure, though his voice cracks a couple times when he says, “Well. There’s nothing... there’s um... nothing we can do at the moment.” He clears his throat. “Have you two been able to acquire any accommodations?”

Liam sits up, his face wet. “Yes.” He sniffles. “Though we haven’t actually been to the hotel yet. We’ve been here for... oh, a little less than ten hours.”

“Your Majesty I believe it would be wise to spend the night at the hotel and rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Perhaps the doctors will let us ask questions as well.”

"Thank you, Duke Bertrand, but I would rather stay. Drake, if you want, you can go and get some sleep. I'm sure you need it. I'll be fine right here."

Drake, Maxwell, and Bertrand share a silent look, then take a seat near their friend. Bertrand sends Savannah a text, telling her that him and Maxwell will not be returning to the hotel tonight.