#oh man you can imagine how excited and scared golden was. his heartbeat was so fast and didnt knew how to start

[malkaviian]

thinking about how seba learned about the truth about his birthing, and im pretty sure it was golden himself who told him hes his father

[lokiforever]

A Tale of Stardom and Parenthood ❤️

Request (anonymous) : Hi can u write a tom hiddleston x actress!reader who are married and she is pregnant while they are promoting both loki season 1 and 2

Well, hello there, nonny! 👋🏻❤️Ofcourse I can, dear or atleast I'll try to 🤞🏻

A/N : *ahem* So.....this is my first time writing Tom Hiddleston x actress!reader and a pregnant reader. Apologies, if it doesn't hold up to your imagination.

Anyways, I hope you all like it. Especially you, nonny. 💚

It was one of those mornings where everything felt perfect, you were laying in the arms of your perfect husband, back pressed against his chest as you listened his even breathing and sound heartbeat, even in his sleep his arm was protectively wrapped around your growing baby bum in a gentle, yet tight grip. Yup a little wonder that you two had created together. Can't believe she was 3 months old already!

You tried to get up as gently as you could, without waking him up but as soon as you shuffled a little the only response you got was a protesting groan and a muffled 'not yet' from your husband as his grip on you tightened, causing a smile to rise up your face, he is a literal baby sometimes and you loved him for that. Oh, the way you were head over heels for this man!

He started presses slow, gently kisses along your neck and shoulders, it were these little gestures of his that made you fall deeper and deeper for him everyday....if that was possible. "Good morning, my love" you turned to face him, "Good morning, baby" you said.

He propped his head up on his elbow and leaned down, facing your baby bump "Good morning, dada's little princess" he cooed with a warm smile. There was not a single day that he didn't talk to her or wish her 'morning's, hello's and good night's ' and even read to her quite often. Sometimes he'd even sing to her.He turned his attention to you and said "How did my girls sleepy, tonight?" "Perfectly, my love, how bout' you? Did you sleep well?" "With you?...Always"

You and Tom had to attend an event today, The Tonight Show. For the promotion of the Loki series.

Ah, the set of Loki season one, that was the place where you two first met and became really, really good friends though you couldn't help but be attracted to the handsome Brit each passing day you spent with him, too insecure to make the first move, scared that you'll lose him completely.

That was until one night he finally confessed his true feelings for you and you both started a relationship, and then engaged ....here, allow me to give you a little glimpse of it

*flashback*

The sun began to set over the picturesque backdrop of a secluded beach, casting a warm golden glow on the sand. Tom took a deep breath, his heart pounding with nervous excitement. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. As the waves gently crashed against the shore, he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small velvet box nestled inside. His mind raced with all the carefully rehearsed words he wanted to say, but in that moment, everything else faded away as his eyes met the love of his life, you.

As he dropped down on one knee, a sense of anticipation filled the air. The world seemed to hold its breath as he opened the velvet box, revealing a radiant diamond ring that sparkled as brilliantly as the love that illuminated his eyes.

"My love, I....I've been captivated by you since the moment we met on the set of Loki. Your beauty, grace, and intelligence have completely enthralled me. From the depths of my heart, I must confess that I have fallen madly in love with you. You've become the light in my life, and I cannot imagine a future without you by my side."

His voice quivered ever so slightly as he spoke, his words filled with a mixture of vulnerability and certainty. Each word seemed to carry the weight of his affection, his admiration, and his desire to spend the rest of his life with you.

"Will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my partner in this grand adventure called life? Will you make me the happiest man on earth by giving me the ultimate honour of calling you mine, forever? Will you marry me, Y/N Y/L/N? "

A single tear escaped the corner of your eye, lips trembling with overwhelming emotion. You nodded, unable to find your voice amidst the surge of happiness that flooded your soul. His eyes glistened with tears of joy as he slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing your commitment and marking the beginning of a new chapter in your intertwined lives.

*Present*

Your eyes got teary as you recalled those beautiful moments, it was both because of the hormones and the undying love you felt for the man.

All of this took you back to the time when you revealed the news of you both becoming parents....

*flashback*

You have never, never, felt this excited before...it was a week ago that you found out that you were pregnant... surreal, isn't it? Today...well... tomorrow.. but it was almost 10 pm so.. back to the topic, tomorrow was the day you two first started a relationship, two years... two best years.. you two met on the set of season one and now, you two were shooting Loki season two and Loki, oops, Tom. Tom was your husband,

Tom was currently out for pre- anniversary celebration with his friends. 5 and a half months since you got married and 2 years and 1 month and 16 days since you had your first kiss / started a relationship and exactly 10 months and 4 days since he proposed you.

Everything happened so fast but even if you both took years to think, the outcome would have come the same, you belonged with him and he belonged with you.

The sound of the main door opening pulled you out of your thoughts, and you started your little plan, you were wearing his favourite dress. "Darling, I'm home" you heard a baritone you knew way too well. You hid your smirk and walked towards the door.

"I'm here, my love" you called. His jaw almost hit the floor as he saw you "My love, you ... I don't have words to describe how gorgeous you look, as always. You never fail to leave me speechless. Pray tell, is there any specific reason for this heavenly sight?" he said, ending his words with a smirk causing you to blush "Oh, come on. Maybe, maybe not. Just wanted to give my darling husband a sight to enjoy" said you, walking towards him.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and into a loving kiss "Happy anniversary, my love. I can't believe we started this two years ago and now, we're here, married. It all happened so fast..." said he

"Happy anniversary to you too, darling. Indeed, it happened fast...but it was and is perfect. I have a surprise for you" his eyes lit up as a child's when you said this "Really!? Thank you, my love! I really am excited!" then, you took him to the living room where a beautifully packed gift box, which was blue in colour and had a crimson bow on top was kept. "Go on, love. Open it" he wasted no time in opening the box.

He honestly was a bit confused when he saw a pair of baby boots, the same as his favourite ones and a mini scarf, the scarf. Yes, the Loki one. You were just standing in front of him, admiring how adorable he looked. His eyes widened to the size of the couch when he saw a positive pregnancy test inside it. "Darling?" He looked at you in pleasent surprise. You gave him a nod of confirmation "Yes.." "Oh, my love..." tears of joy flooded his eyes and yours as he practically rushed towards your side, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

"I can't tell you how happy I am. I'm the happiest man on earth to have you by my side and now our little wonder too. I love you, Y/N" he kisses you deeply, pouring all his love in the kiss and then kneeled in front of you, getting face level with your stomach, peppering it with kisses "Hello, my baby. I'm your dada" he cooed, raising up after a minute and pressing a kiss on your forehead. "We're going to be parents" you said once you found your voice "It's surreal..."

*present*

"How're you feeling, my love?" Your husband's voice pulled you out of your thoughts "Great, sweetheart. The team must be coming for the dress up for today's event" "Right as always, darling" in no longer than 5 minutes, the team was there....

Your makeup was perfect, so was the dress, it was light blue in colour, completing Tom's blue suit. And now, it was time for the event

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome upon the stage, MCU's beloved couple, everyone's favourite, Tom and Y/N Hiddleston!!"

The audience burst into a huge round of applause as you and Tom entered the stage with grace, exchanging plesantries before sitting on the couch "First of all very many congratulations on your wedding. May you both experience millions of moments of this eternal flame of love" said your host, Jimmy Fallon. "Thank you so much, Jimmy, really." you said with a low chuckle.

"So, before we begin talking about the Loki series... there are rumours that you guys are expecting baby Hiddleston"

This time, Tom took his turn "They are correct, we are indeed expecting a baby and I couldn't be happier" "Uh-huh" you ended his sentence placing a hand on your baby bump and earning a burst of applause and hoots

"Really?! That is Great! I'm so happy for you both" "Thank you so much, buddy"

~°~

The rest of the night went greatly and now you and Tom were in his car heading back home. He gently held your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it "Thank you, my love." he said out of the blue making you chuckle lowly "What for, darling?" "For everything, for being here with me, for being you, for existing, for this..." said he as he placed his hand on your baby bump. You just looked at him, unable to form any words "You've a silvertounge, you know?" "I do. And I'm all yours and you're mine"

Yes, he was yours and you were his, for eternity....

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @jennyggggrrr @lotsoflokilove23 @dishahaldar @foxherder @eleniblue

[korissideblog]

ohhh i'm lowkey very proud of this one <333

sillie little characters: Hiroharu [@compoundhero ] Michiko [@residentquirksupport ] and Ikuto [@the-heartbeat-hero ] <3

i didn't finish all the sketches i wanted for this fic, but i also wanted to get it out today, so maybe i'll reblog it or edit it later with the drawings <3 there are like two that i finished on time, but ahugghieisdifs whatever. it's officially midnight and i have work tomorrow <3

(also, if heartbeat-hero is reading this, thxs for reading over it for me, and i changed the ending a tiny bit so you could have something new to read <3)

“And then he’s going to put the ring on you-”

“But the ring is poisoned.” “Yes, we’re not gonna let it touch you. We’ll be there before anything happens.”

“Alright and- you can go tighter than that Mich.” Aito said, looking over his shoulder to Michiko, who was busy tying Aito’s corset.

“Any tighter and you won’t be able to breathe. You’re gonna be wearing this for longer than you think.” Michiko warned, tying the knot as flatly as she could. “Plus the dress is already fitted, if your waist gets smaller the fabric would look baggy.” Aito fought the urge to roll his eyes and turned back to Hiroharu.

“You know Jeje, I thought you would have brought me a gift.” She said, crossing her arms. “New silverware or something.”

Hiroharu closed the file in his hands as he looked at Aito in confusion. “Why would we have done that?”

“Because!” Aito said, walking to the other side of the dressing room, passing Ikuto- who’s been nervously rearranging Aito’s bouquet for the last 20 minutes- and unzipping a huge dress bag. A short but fluffy white dress spilled from it, and Aito unhooked it from the hanger.

“I’m getting married!”

______________________________________________________________

Aito was kinda spacing out a bit.

In his defense! He’d already done the walking-down-the-aisle-over-pretty-rose-petals bit, and that’s all he was really looking forward to at his wedding.

He knew Haru and Michi and Iku would be here any moment to break up the arrangement, but he had to play it cool, smiling and giggling at her groom as he read his vows.

Haruto Suzuki, better known as the White Phantom, was Aito’s target. He was cunning and malicious and a hopeless romantic to anyone who could get ahold of his list of ebooks. Aito spent almost half a year in this role-Ichika Yokoyama, for the time being- and worked a bit harder than necessary to get close to Suzuki. She just liked her cases ending with a bang, and what was more exciting than a wedding?

______________________________________________________________

Hiroharu listened intently to the wiretap under Aito’s dress, trying to time the ambush while the support team rounded the back, ready to catch any of the villains in attendance. The support team was being led by Michiko over radio as Haru focused on Suzuki.

“-I promise to always remember that you are indeed human. That you may sometimes make questionable decisions, decisions I don't agree with, like when you got a red velvet wedding cake when I asked for vanilla”

The reception laughed and Haru could hear Aito smack Suzuki’s hand playfully. At least she was staying in character.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve always been like that, headstrong and sure of yourself in ways I could never be. You’re always right in the end- red velvet is my favorite flavor, I was just worried about other people’s opinions.- and… and I think that’s why I love you, Ichika.”

“I don’t think I would poison someone if I loved them.” Ikuto huffed, trying his best to stay in his chair in case pacing would alert anyone to the ambush.

Hiroharu remembered the call well. The one where Aito told him that he found messages between Suzuki and another villain, messages describing how Suzuki knew that Aito was speaking to someone behind his back. Secret calls to Michiko and Ikuto about the mission turned into hidden calls from a lover in Suzuki’s eyes, and he was going to take his revenge. Hiroharu was ready to pull Aito out of the mission then and there but… Aito wanted to continue.

“He didn’t tell me that he knew.” she reasoned. “If the wedding goes as planned, there’ll be at least 3 villains in attendance, as well as a few people who might have information that we need! He’s not gonna kill me before the wedding, so let’s keep going!” Hiroharu hated this plan, but Aito was stubborn enough to get her way.

Hiruharu noticed a slight change in Suzuki’s voice, silently getting Michiko’s attention with a wave of his hand. The vows were about to end.

“And that’s what today is all about… it’s not about arguments over cakes or venues or honeymoons… it’s about getting past all those arguments and realizing that… that I would go through a thousand more if it means I get to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

And Aito laughs, tears threatening her makeup as she gives the signal that the ring is in his hand- it’s time to go.

______________________________________________________________

The small reception turned to face the doors of the building as the heroes crashed through it, but the entire room stood still as the scene settled.

There he was, Aito Takao, Ichika Yokoyama, the blushing bride… with a golden band on her finger.

Aito’s eyes drooped a bit, as if she couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. Her hands clutched weakly at Suzuki’s lapels as she tried to regain her balance, his breathing getting heavy as he tried to stand up straight. “H-Haru…?” she asked just above a whisper, nobody sure of which one she was talking to as her body leaned back and she fell to the floor, limp as a corpse.

… a corpse…

Hiroharu could… he could feel Michiko’s hand clutching his wrist, but it was like he was remembering it, not like it was happening currently. Like he was asked to describe what happened as he watched his friend collapse into a pile of lace and satin, white and cold like a dead dove. Asked to describe the feeling of loss as he felt Ikuto slump onto his shoulder, holding onto his sleeve as if he couldn’t stay upright, like his body told him to meet Aito on the floor. Asked to describe Aito, her breath shaky and pained, the last one leaving her chest like a deadly flower wilting.

Something wicked… but also delicate in it’s own way.

What Hiroharu couldn’t describe was the sound. He knew there was silence, the telltale ringing of the room as no one dared inhale, as if Aito’s death would proceed all of their own, but there was also something else.

There was laughter.

Laughter Hiroharu recognized well. Notes and melody that he could recall from his high school years, a finger pointed at him as his friend laughed at whatever trick she had just pulled.

And oh what a trick he had pulled.

Aito sat up lazily, looking up at her groom- the villain shocked and nearly shaking as he looked down at his corpse bride- laughter spilling from her lips like blood as he gazed at the man in black through her eyelashes, batting them playfully as he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, right?” He asked, one hand sneaking under her skirt. “Thought you could just kill me- didn’t wanna talk out our issues, baby?” He spat, his teeth pearly white and dangerously sharp as she smiled. From under her garter she produced a short poll, which when swung extended into his iconic golden colored staff. Aito took the ring off his finger as he stood, holding it up to Suzuki like a prize.

“I switched the rings~”

______________________________________________________________

“I can’t believe you did that.” Ikuto sighed with exhaustion, the fight was finally over, looking over the party as Michiko and the support team made quick work of arresting everyone involved. “I was so scared- I thought you died.”

Aito shrugged and continued eating the small slice of red velvet cake he somehow managed to salvage after Haru threw a guy into it. “That happens sometimes. Who’s feeding Jiji while I’m away?” He asked, as Ikuto realized that Aito really didn’t know what he did wrong, and also realized that he didn’t have the energy to explain.

“One of your neighbors. She’s like 2 doors down-“

“You got Hasegawa to feed Jiji!?” And now it was Ikuto’s turn to roll his eyes at something he saw as minuscule. “I hate her! You know that!”

“You don’t have to like her for her to feed Jiji.” Ikuto responded, his dismissal similar to Aito’s. Aito responded with her usual dramatics, shoving his plate into Ikuto’s hands as he turned to the gift table, sorting through the things that could be evidence (all of it) and the things he wanted to keep (also all of it). He held up a little envelope, and read the words on the front aloud. “Suzuki, for you and your new wife- and two bodyguards.” He tore it open with curiosity and four tickets fell into his hand. “Oh they‘re for-“ Aito gasped quietly as he read the name on the ticket, immediately holding it out to Ikuto. Before Ikuto could actually read the tickets, Aito stepped away and jogged over to Michiko.

“Mich~” Aito sang, holding up the tickets, but failing to catch Michiko’s eyes as she watched through the open doors, Suzuki in handcuffs being escorted into a large black SUV. “guess what?”

“Do you… Aito?” Michiko started, as if she was unsure about whether she wanted the answer to her question or not. “He… I know he’s a villain and he’s done terrible things but…” she leaned her head so she could see the SUV drive away. “He thought… I mean… he really thought he was going to kill the love of his life today.” she held herself, as if just the thought of it brought a coldness that would make her shiver. “I mean could you even imagine-” and then… she looked at Aito. Aito, with his droopy yellow eyes, completely unfazed by what Michiko was describing.

She knew Aito could love. She knew that Aito loved his mama, and Ikuto like a brother, and she knew that Aito loved her and Haru like best friends but… given the blank stare… she wasn’t sure if Aito…

“You dated him for half a year- Aito, he even asked you to marry him.” Michiko said, trying her best to describe her ideas in a way that Aito could understand. “That whole entire time did you ever… you know…?” Aito seemed as though he was about to respond, but paused, as if he really wanted to think about his answer.

“He… he really had a thing for poker.” she started, watching as the last of the SUV slipped behind the horizon line. “He’d play with his friends and… if he won big he’d…” Aito raised her hands gently, as if holding something delicate. “He’d buy me a dozen roses… and he’d tell me I was on his mind. That I was his good luck charm.” he laughed, recalling how silly it all sounded. “And… for just a moment… I’d forget it was all a job.”

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Both of the women jumped a bit as Haru came up from behind them, quickly turning to face him and forget their prior conversation. “Ikuto said Aito found something and she wanted to show us.”

“Ohh Boss!” Aito chirped, immediately snapping out of whatever mournful spell him and Michi were under. “You’d never guess!” she then held out the four tickets for them to examine. “Pack your bags! I know where we’re going next!!!”

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.2K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)

-

PART 10

“Meet me in the meadows after hours? -D”

You smiled down at the piece of parchment that was sticking out of your Charms book. You looked around, trying to see how Draco managed to slip it in your book. Not seeing the blond anywhere, you tucked the note in your pocket and resumed your day. 

It was your first day back to Hogwarts from the holidays. Before you got to school, you picked up something for Draco as a thank you for his presents for you. At first you wanted to send it off, excitement getting the best of you, but his worried expression that was engraved in your mind made you worry. What if the wrong hands got the presents? You knew Draco didn’t like his home. You chose not to risk it and decided to hold onto it until you saw him in person again. So far, there hasn’t been a good time to talk to him. Everyone was too hyper with seeing each other again that Draco was almost, always surrounded by his Slytherin followers. 

On your way to the Great Hall, people were greeting each other, happy that they got to see their friends again. The trio were nowhere to be found, which isn’t a good sign, given the past few years. The twins were in the Great Hall, already making the entire Gryffindor table burst out in laughter. They were showing off their new product, another pranking item, as usual. Blaise was their first target. You shook your head, praying that they won’t get in too much trouble for their pranks. 

You couldn’t wait for the day to be over. You stayed silent at the Hufflepuff table, not in the mood to talk to any of your housemates, who avoided you like the plague anyway. As people started to disperse, you followed their lead and retreated to your dormitory. You glanced at the two bottles of cologne on your dresser, smiling at the memories each held. You sprayed some of the evergreen cologne on your wrist, something in the air drawing you to it more than the golden one for today. 

You’ve noticed that you were torn between the two most days. Some days you opted to use Cedric’s cologne, his absence hitting you more than you would like to admit. During those days, you would read his journal, which you’ve already finished, and spend extra time on the page where he declared his love for you. You would close your eyes and repeat, “I love you, Cedric.” You repeated it like a mantra, hoping that wherever he was, he was able to hear you too. 

Some days you used Draco’s cologne, missing the boy’s presence a bit more than normal. You’d spray it and imagine his hands writing the note to you in his perfect handwriting. How he was probably concentrated over the piece of parchment, maybe even sealing the envelope with a kiss. It’s wishful thinking, you knew that, thinking that Draco may feel something for you too. But it lived in your mind, never letting you rest from the thought. 

Once they called lights out, you waited a few minutes before slipping out to the garden and into the passageway. You looked at the small box in your hand, heart beating against your chest. You were more than nervous. What if he didn’t like it? What if you misread the situation entirely? 

“Y/N.” 

You didn’t realize you were already in the meadows. Your feet knew exactly where to go without directions from your brain. You stopped, breath hitched in your throat. Draco stood there, paler than ever before, eyes sunken in, and a bit skinnier than you remembered. He smiled widely when he saw you emerge from the passageway, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He walked over to you, arms parted as if he was about to hug you, then he hesitated. A blush covered his cheeks, dropping his arms by his sides, and shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to his toes. 

Sensing his awkwardness, you outstretched your arms, beckoning him to come close. “C’mere.” 

He reluctantly obeyed, stiffly hugging you back. You sighed, running your hand across his back, feeling the hardness of his spine against his jumper. You squeezed him tighter as you felt him melt into your arms. You cradled him like that for a while, letting him bury his neck into the crook of your neck. He was hunched over, letting you cover him like a safety blanket. You treasured his scent, shivering when his cold fingers accidentally traced over the skin on your neck. 

He flinched, quickly moving away, “Sorry.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, hating the way he pulled back like it was second nature. You walked over to him, lacing your fingers with his, hoping he’d see that you didn’t mind the cold. You tugged on his hand and walked down deeper into the meadows. “I got you something.” 

Draco looked at you, confused, as he stared at the little box you held in the palm of your hand. He took it, inspecting it closely. “For what?” 

“For Christmas, silly.” You giggled, urging him to open it. You chewed on your bottom lip, growing more and more nervous as he made his way to undo the bow on top. “Thank you, by the way. For the cologne.” 

“It’s the least I can do.” He replied, sincerely. He opened the box and saw a silver ring in the middle of it. Draco picked it up, noticing the engraving on the outside of the ring. It looked like it was your handwriting. 

You are good.

Draco took in a harsh breath. He kept his head down, tears congregating in his eyes. Nobody has ever told him that. All his life he’s been known as the heir of Slytherin, the Slytherin prince, a Malfoy- a name that held so much weight that he didn’t want to carry. He re-read it, over and over again. His thumb rubbed against the engraving, memorizing the way it’s engraved within the metal. Before he slipped it on, he felt the ridges of the inner engraving. He tilted the ring to the right and read the words inside. 

You are not the choices forced upon you. 

He couldn’t stop the tears from falling once he read those words. He still kept his head down, embarrassed that he was crying so much from your present. He was silent, quietly sniffling and breathing out shaky breaths. Silence fell upon the two of you, meters apart. Draco was looking down while you stared at him, biting down on your thumb, unsure of what to make of his reaction. 

You grew scared and decided to break the ice, “I’m sorry if you don’t like it. I just noticed that you no longer had your Slytherin ring and I thought you’d like a ring as a replacement. N-not that this ring is as good as your Slytherin ring, Merlin knows it’s probably not as good of a quality but maybe you’d lik-”

“I love it.” Draco interrupted, finally looking up. A real smile was etched on his face, tears slipping out of his eyes once again. He slipped it on his finger, almost jumping when he saw a faint yellow light blink from the ring. “What was that?” 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You blushed, stepping closer to him. You held the hand that sported his ring, watching it light up again. “I used magic to make it more personal to us. Whenever I want you to know that I’m thinking of you, it shoots out the light. You wrote in your note that you were thinking of me and I just wanted to show you I’m thinking of you too.” 

“You’re thinking of me right now?” 

“Always am but I don’t think you’d want it shooting out yellow lights all the time.” You laughed. “I’m sure people would get a bit annoyed too.”

He stared at it, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “Let them be.” 

“I hope you like it.” 

“I love it.” 

“I’m glad.” 

Draco closed his eyes, thinking of everything that happened in the Malfoy Manor throughout the holidays. Would you still think of him as a good man if you found out what he did? To find out what he’s being forced to do? He knew you would never look at him the same if you found out. And if he was being honest, he doesn’t want you to ever stop looking at him the way you do now.

You look at him with stars in your eyes. You don’t look at him in hopes of getting something, in hopes to accomplish something. You’re not using him for his name, for his power. You’re not expecting anything from him but his true self. You’re looking at him like you want him. It’s the way you looked at Cedric the first time he saw the two of you. It’s the way he looked at you all those years. Now, you’re looking at him in the same way. Call him selfish, but he wasn’t ready to give that up. 

A piece of him broke knowing as much as he felt for you- dare he say it, as much as he loved you, he would never be able to love you the way he wants to. He itched his forearm, his reminder that life will not always be kind to him, the way it is now. Draco ignored the burning sensation on his arm and found the courage to look at you again. Your eyes twinkled with innocence, cheeks rosy, and nose red because of the cold. You were shivering under the moon, awkwardly rubbing your hands up and down your arms for warmth. He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you. He knew it probably didn’t help much, given his own struggles with being warm, but he did it anyway. Draco just wanted an excuse to be near you. 

Your arms wrapped themselves around his waist, head resting on his chest. You felt calm listening to his heartbeat against your ear, beating steadily. He let his lips ghost over the skin of your forehead, not daring to actually touch you. They were warm, much to your surprise, and continued to almost touch you. His lips hovered over your skin, blowing soft breaths of nervousness. You could feel his heart starting to beat quicker, uncertainty taking over his body. Draco wanted to kiss you. More than anything. 

You waited for him to do something, hoping that you weren’t reading into signs that meant nothing to him. He waited for a sign, afraid of what you might do if he acted on his urges. He wanted to make sure you wanted him the same way. He placed his chin on top of your head, looking down at his hands holding onto you tightly. A flash of yellow caught his attention. You were thinking of him. 

Before he lost his confidence, he pulled you away from his body for a moment, cursing at the way he already missed your weight on him. Your exterior faltered, afraid that Draco changed his mind about you already. You looked down, ashamed that you would even think that Draco could reciprocate the feelings you harbored. He tilted your chin upwards, eyes nervously flickering between your eyes and your lips. Draco looked for signs of hesitation in your features, growing more confident when he saw none. He kept his fingers under your chin as he leaned in, heart almost bursting out of his chest. He was sure you could feel it against your body. 

He watched as you closed your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. Your lips were red, plump and he couldn’t wait to place his on top of yours. He darted out his tongue, licking his lips to dampen them. Draco followed suit, eyes closing, as he leaned closer and closer to you. 

When his lips finally met yours, his knees almost gave out on him when he heard your soft whimper at the contact. He was in love with all the sounds you made, so innocent and so lovely to him. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your chests were pushed against each other as his grip on your hips tightened even more. His lips worked against yours flawlessly. You smiled into the kiss, making him do the same. Airy giggles and mutters of adoration were exchanged in the moments that you two kissed. 

Once you pulled away, Draco connected your foreheads, smile still plastered on his face. His eyes were closed and he looked so happy. This, you thought, this is what I want to remember for the rest of my life. Draco looked like he was glowing, his happiness radiating off his skin. You intertwined your fingers, using your other hand to touch the new ring on his finger. He opened his eyes, watching your movements. 

“You are good.” You whispered to him, lips kissing the corner of his mouth. Then his cheek. Then his nose. Then his forehead. Finally, you placed a soft kiss on his lips, red and raw from the kiss you shared earlier. “You are not the choices forced upon you.”

-

A/N: just an fyi, there’s probably only 1-2 more happy chapters then it gets to heavy angst. beware. 

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[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan chapter 65 FINALE!!

Tags: @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz

“LEOOOO!” Michelangelo ran over to Leonardo out of breath, colliding with his brother before he could stop himself. “Leo Leo Leo Leo Leo Leo—“

“Woah woah woah!” Leonardo laughed and put both hands against Michelangelo’s shoulders to keep the excited turtle at bay, “Where’s the fire?”

Michelangelo took a long, deep breath. “I traded face painting for a snail and traded the snail fir a painted rock and I traded the painted rock for a cane and I traded the cane for a ball and I traded the ball for a basket of muffins and I traded the basket of muffins for a kitten and I named him Klunk!”

Michelangelo shoved a tiny orange and white kitten in Leonardo’s face; Klunk gave a tiny mew and batted curiously at Leonardo’s nose before quickly being pulled back against Michelangelo.

“That’s great, Mikey—“

But Michelangelo was already running away again on the trail of a bright butterfly, which left Leonardo once more wandering in search of something to do. Everywhere he looked was something new— young yokai playing games or families swimming in the river or flying flips through the air either on wings or paragliders. Everywhere they all seemed to be having the time of their lives. None of the activities caught and kept his attention though until he happened to look over to an ice cream cart manned by a slime yokai. The current customers were a calico nekomata and an old rat.

“Dad?” Confusion came first, and then came a sneaky, mischievous grin. He rubbed his hands together not unlike a supervillain, “Ohhh this is good~”

Slowly, like he was walking across a cloud, Leonardo glided behind a tree. He pulled himself onto a higher branch to get a vantage point, watching as Splinter and the strange woman passed under; he caught a snippet of conversation.

“I can barely handle my four boys; I don’t know how you manage so many!”

“It’s not all fun and laughter that’s for sure, but most of them get adopted really quickly…”

Leonardo jumped the next tree over, silently cursing himself as a falling leaf made Splinter stop and look up. His nose twitched, eyes narrowing just the slightest bit as he stared directly at Leonardo, but perhaps not seeing him; Leonardo remained like a statue.

“Splinter, what’s the matter?” The woman came to up wrap her arms around Splinter’s arm, looking up and trying to see what he saw.

“Nothing.” Splinter said quickly, “Just thought I saw something.”

Slowly, with Splinter dragging his feet, they moved on. Leonardo saw no point in hiding anymore. Before they could get far, Leonardo dropped down in front of them.

“So do I get to be the flowergirl?”

“AH!” Both rat and cat screamed, but Splinter quickly fell to grabbing his sandal and repeatedly slapping Leonardo with it. “YOU! DUMB! DIRTY! YARO! Scared me half to death!”

Leonardo bunched himself at the assault, laughing harder with each slap as he did his best to protect his face. “I’m - sorry! It was too good to resist! Besides, flower girl is more for Mikey, I wanna be ring bearer!”

“You get to be NOTHING!”

“Now That’s just unfair!”

Splinter swung his arm around the cat to guide her quickly around Leonardo, trying his best to ignore his son's taunting presence.

“Was that your son?” The cat asked, trying to look back and steal another glimpse of Leonardo.

“Don’t look at him and maybe he’ll go away.”

***

“RENET!”

Renet stopped long enough to look around, giving a curious hum at the familiar voice. “Michael?”

“ME!”

Renet gave a startled yelp that was quick to turn into giggles when she recognized Michelangelo had come up from behind and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

“HUG! Hi Renet!” Michelangelo skirted around to her front, smiling brightly, “I traded face painting for a snail and traded the snail for a painted rock and I traded the painted rock for a cane and I traded the cane for a ball and I traded the ball for a basket of muffins and I traded the basket of muffins for a kitten and I named him Klunk!” Klunk gave a soft meow. “Also! I caught a butterfly and traded it for a balloon and traded the ballon for an ice cream cone do you want it?”

Michelangelo offered a strawberry ice cream to Renet, who accepted it with a confused but excited smile. “Uh… thanks. I’ve never had ice cream before!”

She looked over the frozen treat for a curious moment, then took a big bite out of it before Michelangelo could stop her. The cold immediately seized her body and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth against the drool that tried to escape from the shock.

“Mm… cold.” She shivered, wiping her mouth once more before she let herself giggle.

“You’re supposed to lick it, not bite it.” Michelangelo encouraged.

Renet did as asked, swiping her tongue across the length of the dripping ice cream, “Mm! It’s good.”

“It’s ice cream, of course it’s good!” Michelangelo beamed, “What are you doing out here? I didn't think you left your mansion all that often.”

“Yeah I uh… I don’t.” Renet said with a giddy laugh, “Today’s actually the first day. I’ve never seen the sun before.. It’s just as beautiful as I imagined. But hot…”

Renet swiped a few beads of sweat off of her forehead. Michelangelo gasped and, out of an innocent want to help, went to grab the back of her wheelchair to push her. Renet pulled away from the attempt, rolling back around to face him while Michelangelo looked confused, and then startled at Renet’s uncomfortable expression.

“Actually I can roll myself.” She said slowly.

“OH! I— I’m sorry!” Michelangelo squeaked, head shrinking, “I was just going to bring you into the shade…”

Michelangelo motioned to the shade of a nearby tree and Renet started to roll herself over to it while Michelangelo trailed behind.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated again, “Was the hug bad too?”

“O-oh, no, you’re fine just… don’t grab my chair unless I ask you, okay?”

Michelangelo nodded quickly. “Yes Ma’am! And thanks again for, you know, making sure we don’t burn a fiery death in TCRI.”

“Oh yeah, no biggie.” She nodded; the ice cream in her hand was quickly disappearing. “I really enjoy being out here with all the sun and the grass and the bugs! Maaaan I love the bugs!”

“I didn't get out much as a child either.” Michelangelo related, “It was so fun when I got to learn about all the critters and— and watching the stars and the sun rise! And it never gets old because it’s always so different!”

“Well I’m glad to finally experience it.” Renet finished off her cone and then rolled a little further so her front was in the sun; she closed her eyes against the warmth, the light bouncing off her scales in a flashy display, like sunbeams on water. Her skin seemed to glow radiant like light amber, the baby blue headscarf catching the breeze. “The wind is like the sweetest honeydew on my skin… and it’s like I can taste the colors of the world!”

“Well, if you wanna enjoy even more of the world…” Michelangelo started, rubbing his head, “Maybe you want to come eat with me and my family?”

Renet opened her eyes and looked to Michelangelo. “I’d love to!

***

While his brothers were exploring, Donatello was content to stay at the table near the girls. He had been away for so long that there was a seemingly endless amount of social media he needed to catch up with, so he took the opportunity to get a head start on it. Occasionally April or Sunita would throw a shrimp or a burger his way to use him as a taste tester, but he didn't mind. Scrolling was certainly working up an appetite.

Something hit him in the face. Donatello groaned and reached up, having to swipe a few times before he was able to pull it off, and when he did he was hit with a wave wave of confusion. It was a cherry blossom flower— not just a petal, but a full, blooming flower! Even as Donatello held the stemless thing in his hand, it seemed to open a little wider, the dew drops on its petals dripping down and dampening his palm.

Donatello looked around and saw no tree, nor anyone carrying such flowers that could have been lost. Carefully, his fingers traced along the pink curves, soft as melted butter. He stood up, and when he did, he looked down. In the grass just ahead of him was a trail of flowers, blooming before his very eyes and stretching toward the warmth of the sun. The trail was expanding closer to him until the flowers came to him, gentle stems tickling his ankles as he lifted his feet to see the spectacle better. The blooming flowers led to a golden rift at the end of the trail, similar to Draxum’s except with flowers instead of vines. A rift identical to the one that had rescued Donatello and his brothers from The Sea of Trees.

“I told you your brothers would come.” Said a familiar voice— the kirins voice!

And then the flowers were gone, and so was the rift, and so was the voice.

“Don, food’s done.” April called, then put a hand on her hip and gave a frustrated huff when it seemed Donatello wasn’t listening to her.

“Y-yeah, be there in a second.” The hand that once held the cherry blossom felt empty now in its absence, and it took Donatello several long heartbeats to turn back to his meal. “Thanks April… it looks great.”

“It better!” April laughed, “Then again I’d bet anything looks great to you given the past two weeks you spent alone.”

“Yeah…” And Donatello looked to the table and saw a basket of berries sitting there for him, shining with a heavenly glow, “Alone.”

[fullsunalicia]

since i just noticed we are in DIRE need of some yuta around here and i love your writing to bits... may i request a friends-to-lovers!au with our one and only osaka prince?🥺 some tooth-rotting fluff with a dash of angst sprinkled in between? thank you so much!💚

velleity • NMY

velleity (n.) - a wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action. an accurate example: the love that has been blooming inside your veins for nakamoto yuta, long before you even knew what it was like to fall.

thank you so much for your request !! i love yuta with all my heart and i was so happy when i saw your message 🥺 i hope you enjoy bubs!

You meet Nakamoto Yuta in elementary school, back when his Korean was clumsy and his beautiful features had still been a mystery beneath these chubby cheeks. The grimace the boy presented when you pulled at them didn’t reveal them, either, so for a very long time both Yuta and you couldn’t ever imagine calling the other ‘beautiful’.

Now, it would be blasphemy to call him anything but. Yuta’s face is what people claim to be picturesque. Perfect, down to the last detail. To assume that he is flawless would be a lie, but you’re convinced that your best friend isn’t far from that. He looks like he jumped straight out of a fairytale, like the prince you had been imagining every time your mother read you a good-night-story. You see him when you close your eyes, long after you slipped into a dream. But because you never reduced him to looks, you get to brag with the title ‘Yuta’s best friend’. You know him inside out, all the little things and the trivia behind it. Your knowledge is a treasure, expanded over the many years where you get to know this precious soul and watch it grow. Take shape, a rose exploding out of its’ bud.

That knowledge contains the silliest facts. He loves takoyaki, especially when you cook it. Despite the fact that you’re not japanese and will never reach the culinary skill level his mother is on, he inhales the food like it’s his last meal and then bombards you with every single compliment he can muster up. He also loves soccer, but quit it to focus on school and later on becoming an idol. Another funny fact is that Yuta hates the taste of limoncelli, because it’s the first alcoholic drink you ever gave him and then procceeded to get him wasted with. An hour later, he vomitted it out. (To be fair, he asked for you to get him drunk because he claimed it’s the only way to cure a broken heart. Clearly, this man has never had the perfect comfort food.)

You have read Nakamoto Yuta and studied him like a favorite book, a favorite read. There are folds in his soul from pages that you hold more dearly than anything else, and torn pages that represent the many fights that you both had. Yuta is familiar, constant. From time to time, you take him out the shelf, dust him off and fall in love with him all over again. The story enamours you every time. Your best friend stole your heart when you were sixteen and unknowing, undisturbed, when he held you so tightly you were going to suffocate. The smell of perfume and home. Loud whistles from both of your friend groups, a heartbeat that resonates inside you as if it was your own.

Befriending Yuta had been fate. It had been like meeting a kindred spirit, and you broke the golden rule. You fell in love. You feel that love even now, when you look into those ebony eyes. You’re looking at him, but he’s looking at her.

Heart-wrenching. That’s what it feels like when you serve him his favorite food but he still can’t tear away his gaze from her, and you reminisce the days where he would cheer like a little boy and thank you with the brightest light in his eyes, even though your first tries at the dish must’ve been only edible at best. You grab for a chopstick and aim for his head, and he whines loudly when it meets its’ target. “You’re so mean! Is that the thanks I get for visiting you at work?”

“You mean bothering me, idiot?” You roll your eyes and turn around to wipe the counter. Of course your stupid heart had beat faster the second you saw him step into the restaurant, just for it to shatter into a thousand pieces when you realized that he was here for someone else. Sweet Sana, who had been on the receiving end of your envy for years now, based on the fact that she was Yuta’s dream girl and not you. The envy is always accompanied by guilt, because Sana is nothing but kind and selfless, the shoulder you had been leaning on for years now ever since Yuta dedicated himself to his career. You watch as she rounds the tables and picks up dirty dishes, a smile adorning her lips despite the tedious task. An angel. She must be. “You just showed up and demanded to be fed. Not a single please and thank you, you spoilt brat. Aren’t you ever getting sick of takoyaki?”

“I could never.” Your best friend seems disturbed by the thought. If Yuta was ever served a death sentence for having killer looks, you’d bet a thousand dollars he would still choose Takoyaki as his last meal on death row. To look that good should be illegal. And it should also be illegal to steal your breath every time you guys meet gazes. There’s so much warmth in his eyes, reserved only for you - it’s a look that not everyone can be grazed with, not to those who haven’t known his entire being by heart. But never will you find the romance you crave in them, and that thought pushes you to look away every time.

You swallow down the pain and force yourself to keep a neutral face. “I’m putting you on a diet, if that’s the way you’re gonna act when I serve you your favorite food. Stop staring at her already, creep, you’re scaring her.”

Yuta sighs, long and heavy. Dramatic. He’s always been open with his crushes. “But she’s sooo pretty,” he pouts then, resting his head in the palm of his hand to look at Sana more comfortably. Right when both of you look at her, she turns to where you guys are sitting and waves, a cute little blush exploding on her cheeks. Very relatable. There’s not a single girl who is immune to your best friend’s charm. Yuta immediately springs into action to wave back, and you try to ignore the way his excited grin makes your chest hurt. “See? She’s not even doing anything and I’m still falling even harder!”

Yeah, that feeling seems familiar. The only difference is who you associate it with.

— ❅ —

Falling in love is so easy. Too easy, considering the fact that it can take years for your heart to recover and even then, the person never leaves your heart fully. You have wasted many years trying to get over Nakamoto Yuta, but your heart refuses to do so; the farest you ever get is closing the door on him, but you can never quite get yourself to lock it. The keys are always in his hands, impossible to tear away. Some people just aren’t meant to leave.

You’ve learned too many lessons from Yuta for you to ever forgot about him. You will never be able to not associate warm summer nights with him, will never forget the way he runs off the soccer field straight in your arms and whirl you around after a particularly good game. The first person to ever teach you how to cut off people that cause more harm than peace, who showed you how a proper friend should treat you. A first kiss, though left undiscussed. The many nights spent cramming in information before an important exam, getting drunk together and letting your hands wander because you trust each other. It’s all Yuta, and it always has been. You look for him in other people, in hopes of moving on but also easing the pain in your heart that is solely caused by the boy with the chubby cheeks.

Your eyes search for him everywhere.

Sadly, you even find the boy in Sana’s eyes. Her eyes emit warmth, a home inside a soul. You met Sana in highschool and love her the way you should’ve loved Yuta - she’s family, a sister, a best friend. She knows secrets you never even dared to think about in front of Yuta and treats them like treasures, a pirate taking his precious things to the grave. Trust is like gold to Minatozaki Sana, and the fact that you willingly give her your entire world is the greatest gift you could’ve ever given her. You can’t hate someone who is a part of you - Sana is you as much as you are her, one soul in two bodies. It’s a pity you got the half that Yuta would never desire.

Her fingertips are coarse; so unusual for the girl who looks like the definition of soft. At the end of every shift, you guys take turns massaging sore spots in your shoulders since both of you are too broke to pay for a professional massage inside a salon. You make do with what you have, at ten in the evening. There’s too many chores that are still unfinished, but the laziness is more powerful than your sense of duty. Whatever. Your manager has never complained about you staying longer to clean, so there’s no rush.

“You’re tenser than ever.” Sana sighs over the groan you let out when she hits a painful spot, her thumbs digging in to erase the knot she found. For someone who claims to possess no strength, her grip is pretty hard. “Have you been sleeping properly? You know I told you to stop pulling so many all-nighters... It’s not helping you.”

“I’m aware, mom. But my college degree isn’t earning itself.”

“Oh, shut up.” Her apron hits the empty barstool beside you before she moves to grab a rag to start wiping the counter. The artificial light usually creates an unpleasant ambiance, but it looks like moonlight when it hits Sana’s skin. So surreal, out of this world. The gods must have shaped her, there’s no other explanation. A perfect fit for Yuta. For a second, you contemplate how you managed to befriend the most precious people in the entire world. She rips you out off your train of thought, though. “Your grades are fine. You’re just throwing a hissy fit. Here’s a deal, either you start sleeping on time or I knock you out. How’s that sound?”

“Very pleasant,” you deadpan, and that’s the end of the discussion. She pinches your waist before moving along to put the chairs on the table. It’s always quiet in the evening, especially in this corner of the city. Every night at the same time, an old couple passes the window and waves at you, like the precious members of society they are. There’s a distinct routine that Sana and you established over the years, and you fall into it on instinct. The clean-up is quick as always. The bell on the door signals the end of your shift, and you step out into the cold night as Sana turns the key in its’ lock.

You guys are like two peas in a pond, to the point where traditions and habits have been assimilated together. It has now become a reflex to know what to do in any situation - while anyone else panics at your tears, Sana grabs a bottle of wine and a good movie. When the world turns blurry and the stress is the only thing Sana can see, you’re the first one to cook some spicy food and watch as she eats it, just to catch that special, grateful smile. Cogs working in clockwork. A perfect fit.

“How are things going with Taeyong?” Sana sounds neutral, but the cheeky undertone in her voice is evident to you. You know her better. “Drop it,” is the immediate answer you shoot back. Her laughter rings in your ears like a melody. You wish you would be able to dislike it.

“Hey, I just asked you a simple question. Is that forbidden too, now?”

“Yes. You’re not even allowed to say the T in Taeyong. Move along now, I want to go home and get some food in my stomach.”

Sana hums. “I heard Taeyong is a pretty great cook, too. Did you know that?”

You don’t answer her. Taeyong is nothing like the man that is truly inside your heart, and yet there’s no possible way to deny him. You’ve once told him over a bottle of whiskey about the feelings you harbor for his fellow band member, and yet he doesn’t let that deter him from his conquest of your heart. Taeyong knows unspoken secrets that neither Yuto nor Sana are even aware of, and that thought is strange to you. Taeyong isn’t connected to you like he is to Yuta. It’s barely been a year since you’ve properly gotten to know him. And yet, he coaxes things out of you that you wouldn’t even admit in your wildest dreams.

Lee Taeyong is dangerous. Point, blank, period. Still, you let him court you because he doesn’t mind the constant reminder that your heart belongs to Yuta. It even hurts to tell him that, because Taeyong has one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen. His heart is yours to take, even though you don’t want it. Just looking suffices, though. You threw one look inside and have yet to tear your eyes away, locked into a spell. Like looking at a car crash.

He claims that look is enough for him to keep trying. To you, it’s just torture for an innocent man who could have everyone if he wanted. Girls who are kinder, more selfless. Selfless enough to finally move on from a childhood crush and give him all he craves.

“Hello? Earth to (y/n)?” Your blonde companion waves a manicured hand infront of your face. “I didn’t mean to step on a landmine. I’m sorry, okay?”

The sigh you heave out is more alarming than intended. Meeting Sana’s eyes, you already know she’s got you figured out. Lying is useless now. “There’s no reason to be sorry,” you mumble, but it sounds half-hearted. “I just feel guilty about Taeyong. You know, since it’s unrequited and all.”

“I’m telling you, you’re missing out. I get that you want to focus on finishing college, but that boy could be heaven for you. I wish a boy would look at me like that. You deserve the world, (y/n).”

If only she knew.

Your shared apartment is freezing. Sana hurries to turn on the heater, while you finally get rid of jacket and work clothes. The walk to your room is quiet, accompanied only by the sound of Sana’s playlist starting to quietly reverbate through the apartment. Every nook and cranny is filled with a reminiscent thought, a story that only the owners of this apartments can recall. Despite your awkward predicament, you’ve always been thankful to have Sana.

Life is so much better with friends, especially those who see your entire being and decide to love it. No matter what comes with it, no matter how many disputes. It’s been a rocky road, but Sana and you have moved mountains to honor your friendship. You wouldn’t give her up for anything in the world. Especially not for a boy.

To your luck, you fall asleep just in time before Sana can scold you. Atleast in your dreams, everything is perfect.

— ❅ —

Though you claim that Taeyong is dangerous, you’ve always been someone who likes to play with fire. He looks like an artist’s dream-come-true, with sharp edges and soft doe eyes. Not even the dye in his hair can jarr the perfect image he creates, though he claims you’re just trying to make him blush by saying that. Your eyes may be locked on another man, but you’re not blind. Taeyong is as pretty as they come, with the kindest heart you’ve ever seen.

Since you reject an invitation to coffee and cake because you need to study, Taeyong climbs the many scary stairs up your fire escape so he can tumble through your open window. Accompanying his sweet grin is a bag of macarons and other pastries, which makes your stomach grumble embarrassingly loud.

“I thought you weren’t hungry.” Taeyong sets down the paperbag on your biology book, before he settles in the chair beside you and curiously peeks at your notes. You asked him once if he ever wanted to attend college, and he said that he had considered. He’s too in love with being an idol, though. It’s an attribute that connects him to Yuta - their ambition for the stage. Your best friend gave up soccer for it. You wonder what Taeyong has left behind to perform for the world.

You open your mouth to answer, but your stomach interrupts you again - now the blush settles on your cheeks, the very thing Taeyong had waited for. He laughs as you grab the paperpag, murmuring a “I’m not hungry” before stuffing your mouth with a lemon macaron. Normally, you’d offer him the other half, but it seems like you’re starving. “I thought I told you to rest today,” you say instead, eyes raking over his face. His hair is tinted red and white, like blood on snow. Beauty in controversy. “Since, you know, you’re like the most popular idol in the game right now and everything is pretty busy as it is.”

“Did you really think I’d miss the chance of finally being home alone with you?” Taeyong throws your legs over his lap and leans back - shirt riding up to reveal his defined tummy - and you avert your eyes. He’s already being tortured, you don’t have to make it worse by thirsting after him. But his statement opens up a gaping hole inside your stomach, so unsettling that your heart starts to clench. “He told you?” you ask dumbly. Of course Yuta had. Who hadn’t he told of the happiest moment in life, right after being accepted into SM? After months of pining, Yuta had finally been able to score a date with the Minatozaki Sana. Now the apartment lays empty, like a hollow tomb. For your dead heart, maybe. You realize that you’re being melodramatic, but it’s the only thing cheering you up right now and you have no wit left to make up for it.

Sana had accomplished what you never did. In a few weeks, those dates will evolve into a relationship, and it’ll finally be your turn to vomit out the cold limoncelli that burned the back of Yuta’s throat. It’s a tradition to down it after a heartbreak, one you guys kept up long after highschool. For the first time in ever, it’s going to be Yuta’s fault you’re drinking it. An Irish Wake for the girl who got away.

She had locked sickening in that dress. You sent Sana off with one of the most hurtful smiles you had ever been forced to put on, before all your tears ruined the sociology notes of today’s class.

You stuff your mouth with another macaron. “I should’ve known he’d tell the entire world,” you sighed. A warm hand covers your thigh in comfort, but it’s useless. A band-aid can’t help with a wound that’s located on the inside. “You know, Taeyong, maybe I’ll just change my name and move to Hawaii. I’d be a lot happier on Hawaii. Is there any way for me to like, legally get rid of my identity and disappear under mysterious circumstances?”

You hate the look of pity inside his eyes. It makes you lower you own gaze, reminds you of the sea of pain that you’re drowning in. It’s hard to stay afloat. You don’t need anybody to make it harder. “We could start with some mimosas, first,” Taeyong gently says. The gentleness banishes any kind of annoyance that had developed under his pitiful gaze, and he lets you climb into his lap, hides you away from the world in his embrace. Until you are ready to face it, ready to return to reality. The one where you’re an unaffected roommate who’s simply happy for their friends. “But I feel like I’ve barged in on enough Yuta-(y/n) traditions. So how about we grab some food?”

“I told you I have to study, Tae.”

“Bullshit. I think I’ve been watching you stare into the air for about five minutes before I even came in, you loser. Admit it, I’m doing you a favor.”

The punch you deliver to his chest does nothing to quiet down his little giggles. “You suck,” you growl as an answer, but stand up nonetheless to change into something more presentable. Taeyong respectfully turns away while you do, humming a melody under his breath. The pants you put on are only pulled over your hips before you halt in motion and watch in awe as the sun casts shadows over Taeyong’s face; his face contorting into art as his cat-like eyes slip closed. For some strange reason, Yuta’s words come to mind; about how photographers always gush at the leader’s photogenic features.

For a second, you ponder over this reality. The reality in which you stop clinging to a lover long lost and face a new one, something that could be good and healthy for you. As easy as breathing. It would be like spring, the end of an era, getting rid of the chains that held you back. You only have to accept him. Almost in trance, you take a step forwards, toward Taeyong and that warm reality - just to get a closer look at the artwork - before those chains rattle again. You’re a fool to think that you’d ever be able to discard of them. The freezing metal rips you out of Taeyong’s summer dream, back into the room that is filled to the brim with Yuta’s memories.

It’s far too late for you now. Silently, you finish changing and tap Taeyong’s shoulder as a signal that you’re ready to go. His smile hurts to look at, and he doesn’t even wait for permission before he interlocks your fingers and pulls you along. You wonder how he deals with the pain of rejection. It looks like nothing on him, but you feel like you’ve been poisoned, slowly rotting away. The guilt seems to crush you a little bit more now that you’ve got a taste of Taeyong’s experiences. “Wait,” you say, voice tiny. Feet skidding to a halt. Taeyong’s curiosity is as innocent as ever, and you feel bad for how hard it must be for him to look at you and know you’re never going to be his. “Tae, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the one you want me to be... I....”

“Stop.” Taeyong’s voice is strangely calm. It soothes your many worries, enough for you to quiet down. He raises his hand as if to cup your face, but decides against it - dropping it again to cover both of your hands. Smile never leaving his lips. “(y/n), I knew what I was getting into. It’s me who’s selfishly accepting every slither of affection you even grant me.”

“But am I not hurting you?”

“Sweetheart.” Taeyong laughs, as if you had said something funny. His thumb traces your knuckles, once, twice, a habit that he picked up from you. This time, he confidently tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, still giggling when he speaks again. “We all suffer for love. How could I ever judge you when your pain is essentially mine?”

You think you understand. If you imagine the pain to be a heavy bundle, it’s easier to carry it together. In awe at his strength, you let your gaze wander over Taeyong’s face again as he starts blabbering about a new K-BBQ place he’s been wanting to visit. When you catch the train, you finally feel like the poison’s slowing down. It hasn’t spread through your entire body yet.

As always, Taeyong is the remedy to all your problems.

Sadly, he can’t protect you from the awful sight Sana and Yuta offer when you find them tucked in the booth of a restaurant you used to frequent with Yuta. It would’ve been too much to be happy for one afternoon atleast. Despite standing outside the glass windows, you can hear Sana’s melodious laughter in your mind when she dips her head down to quieten the soft sound; golden curls flying with every shake of her head. Your best friend is beaming at her, drink in hand long forgotten, and you tear your eyes away from the scene before your broken heart starts piercing your lungs.

If only you had recognized the citrine liquor sloshing against Yuta’s glass, for you would have noticed something was definitely going wrong. You don’t take notice of his drink, instead quickening your speed and forcing Taeyong to keep up with you. When you start rambling, your companion says nothing, opting to shoot back his own anecdotes to take off your mind of the thing that is evidently bothering you. For the entire evening, he doesn’t let go of your hand once, and you return home with your belly stuffed with delicious dinner and your heart patched up by your new favorite member of NCT.

— ❅ —

You pass your exams with flying colors.

The pride that fills you when you see the grade on the piece of paper almost makes it worth all the things you’ve endured the past few weeks, even though it had been increasingly difficult to keep up. Silently, you watched your pretty roommate leave your shared home more times when you would have liked to count, while you remained stuck inside your stuffy room. The only escape you had for a while were the fire escape outside your window(which had been making you nauseaous the first few times you sat on it, but Taeyong had insisted it was fine) and work, where Yuta only came to blab about his idol life or test your culinary skills. You never ask him about Sana, and he never spills. His quiet support during exam season was the only reason you could handle Sana’s nightly meets, and you clung to the few moments where you could call Yuta yours.

There had once been a time in highschool where studying had been much more fun. Every correct answer had earned you another piece of candy, which became so addicting that Yuta and you upped the stacks by making the other treat them to dinner if they had more correct answes by the end of the free period. What started as school work evolved into a competition, which in turn had led to your first kiss under the lights of Seoul’s summer festival, the roar of passerbys and the loud music booming through the streets accompanying that precious memory. You had been glad, so glad it was Yuta who had stolen away that first experience, because you know for a fact he would never waste it. You had bet him a ticket of the ferris wheel, since it was terribly expensive and pocket money was barely cutting it for you. Not only had he purchased the ticket, but also won you the biggest teddybear on the market. You couldn’t remember what instilled it, but seconds after the plushie was placed into your hands, Yuta had cradled your face and kissed you like his life depended on it.

Your first kiss was magical. The sweet taste of cherries and the unimaginable trace of love that Yuta had left on your tongue had made you feel alive, as if for the first time in your life, your heart finally started to beat. The blood rushing through yours veins was powered by fireworks and adoration for one single boy, the sweet boy who taught you how to ride your bike without your training wheels, made you cook takoyaki atleast twice a week, and bothered to create silly traditions and inside jokes like limoncelli or Hello Kitty band-aids, placed over Yuta’s nose after he got a soccer ball to the face.

That summer had been the summer Yuta was accepted into SM. You had never talked about the kiss again. But what a vivid memory it was! Like your personal, handmade movie, your own living piece of magic. You had never imagined love to be so powerful. But you understand it now, as you look into Yuta’s eyes and realize that all you had ever wanted for him in life was for him to be happy. And he was.

That was enough. The pain, the endurance, you’d do it all again. For Nakamoto Yuta, who reached for your hand and never had let go. Not for soccer, not for the industry, not even for the many people he had dated in the past. That must be worth something.

“You’ve been looking at me weirdly all day.” Yuta scrunches his nose in fake disgust, but his eyes are still crinkled from the pleasant smile that curved around his plush lips. His mom always says that he looks like a fox; it had been his halloween costume three years in a row. Right now, he looks just like that. Coy and dangerous and in the wait. “You trying to pick a fight or what? Because I’ve got all day, and a little wrestling never hurt anybody.”

“So what, I’m not even allowed to watch now?”

Yuta winks before you realize the extent of your words. Cringing, you turn away, but not before seeing the laughter burst out of him, the sound addicting as always. “Don’t get weird with me now, Nakamoto,” you warn him, sliding off your soft bed to close the window. The cool wind was enjoyable, but it kept messing up your many exercise sheets that still needed to be sorted out before september came. Next time around this year, you’ll finally have finished your degree and would return to a proper working life. What an adventure that would be. “Are you planning to camp in here for the rest of your life or are you going to leave eventually? Because I actually got plans and I’m not afraid of kicking you out.”

It was already strange to you that Yuta was sitting here, and not in the living room with Sana. To your knowledge, they were still dating, and the reminder still stung. But no, your childhood best friend remains seated where he is, wrapped in your favorite blanket that you bought on a family trip to Osaka. Another memory that ties him to this place. Your parents had offered to surprise him since you guys were always seperated during summer vacation, and they had always wanted to go to Japan. You learned how to fish there. Weirdly, you kinda miss sitting on the cold river banks while your father tries to explain how to properly kill a fish.

Yuta clutches his chest in faux pain, dramatic as always. “So mean,” he whines. “Here I am making time for my best friend in the entire world, and it is not even appreciated. I’m kicked out, even! Tell me, what has happened to justice? Is it not first come, first serve anymore?”

“First of all - I’m your only best friend.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He nonchalantly waves you off, like someone would an annoying fly. “I still love you the most out of all of my friends, so it’s different. Pick up a book once in a while, (y/n).”

You try to shake off the pain that one single word had incurred in you, but it’s so unbearable. It makes you want to scream. Your life would be so much easier if Yuta truly loved you and you’d be able to tell him aeons worth of confessions, of how you found heaven in his soul and salvation is his heart. It sits on the tip of your tongue, a heavy burden to carry for someone who’s as frail of you, but you only tell him: “It is first come, first serve. Taeyong has been planning to take me out after my exams for a while now, while you were out being lovey-dovey with a certain roommate.” You raise an eyebrow at his awkward expression. A fox in the trap. “So much for loving me most, oh best friend.”

On any other circumstance, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to argue. Yuta is very clingy, and very affectionate. You’ve seen his band members on the receiving end of it, and are glad that they atleast don’t suffer his temper tantrums whenever someone challenges the position of ‘best friend’. Today though, he nitpicks: “You have plans with Taeyong?”

You blink. “Yeah, I guess. I told you we guys got closer in the past few months.”

Yuta’s hand feels more heavier in yours than Taeyong’s did. He pulls you onto the bed again, hands latching to your waist to hold you close, treating you like a personal teddybear. It doesn’t take long before your back is pressed against his chest while he rests his head on your shoulder. “How close, exactly?” he grumbles, childish annoyance peaking through his voice. “You’re not giving him all my Hello Kitty band-aids, are you?”

“Are you accusing me of treason?”

“Maybe so.”

You try to escape his death grip, but ultimately fail. God damn those muscles. “Get out of my room, traitor. I would never ever give away the holy Hello Kitty band-aids.”

“Hmm.” Yuta loosens his hold, and you suck in the breath you so desperately needed. Do you look like a ragdoll or what? “I suppose it’s alright then. When are you getting back?”

“Who are you, my father?” You smack his thigh in retaliation for him caging you in, but your friend only laughs it off. A pinch to your waist makes you jump away from him. “Since when do I need permission from you to come and go?” you complain then. Never once had Yuta been so protective because of a boy than now. It made you wonder what was going on with him. He only shrugs, not offering a explanation. With a last grin, he falls back into the mattress and crosses his arms behind his head, as if the room belonged to him. Ass. “Be back before twelve,” the man only hums.

When you leave Yuta in your room(although with a heavy heart, since you’re sure he’ll join Sana in the living room after you leave), he offers you his cheek as a goodbye. You freeze in place, since this is the first time since sixth grade you sent him off with a kiss to the cheek. Nonetheless, you bow down to do him the favor, his warm hand keeping you in place for a few moments longer, before he lets go of your waist and gifts you a smile that seems rather melancholic. You almost stay.

Almost. You’d rather choke than watch him lock lips with your only female best friend.

“What are you doing on saturday?” Taeyong asks you after offering you a bottle of soju, abandoning your side to place the fluffy picnic blanket over the grass. Han River glistens golden in the light of the sun, a honeyed mirror of the world. It’s almost tragic that life is so heartstrickenly beautiful, no matter what the circumstances are. You suppose that’s what makes it so beautiful. A few moments later, Taeyong has tugged you down so he can rest his head in your lap. With a happy sigh, he closes his eyes and soaks in the last warmth the day has to offer, as always ressembling a statue.

“Nothing, I think,” you tell him. The soju is sweet, easy on the throat. A stark contrast to the Yuta-(y/n) tradition. You don’t have the heart to tell Taeyong that the festival starts on friday, since it’s evident that Yuta is going to take Sana and not you. The magic spell from that fairy-tale kiss had long worn off. This is the real world. “Not until now, since you’re taking me out, I’m deducing?”

“Absolutely correct. No wonder you passed your exams, you’re so clever!”

“I feel belittled.”

Taeyong laughs. The sound rumbles through his chest, as harmonious as the lyrical verses he creates and incorperates into songs. “It wasn’t meant to be,” he promises, hand reaching for your own. His fingertips are cold from the bottle he had held for you until you reached the riverbank. “I’m very proud of you for passing your exams. You did exceptionally well, even though I mothered you so much.”

“Thank you.” Your answer was demure, but it came from the bottom of your heart. Taeyong had been an important emotional crutch, and he had even fulfilled your promise of seeing someone else so he could move on from you. Even though he does, he vows to be a friend for life like Yuta is. It’s so different from the Osaka prince, but Taeyong has truely gotten to the point where he became vital for you, in another way than Yuta is, but how Yuta should have been. He hasn’t told you the name of the secret lady, though. “You think I’ll get my degree?”

“A hundred percent.” A tight squeeze is reassurance enough for you, and Taeyong’s face contorts into a happy grimace when you squish his cheeks. “Thank you,” you say again. “You’re the best friend in the entire world, Taeyong. Really. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“If you want me to live, never say this in front of Yuta.”

“Sure thing.”

You’re not the only people bathing in the evening light, as the riverbank is crowded with families and friends all alike. Their joyous laughter takes you to a time where breathing had been a little easier, a little freer. Where your heartbeat didn’t resonate through broken shards. You’ve come to realize, though, that you wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.

Not if it meant Yuta.

— ❅ —

[08:26pm] yuta-chan ♡: do you think you could meet me at 9 at the ferris wheel? i have to leave for japan after that.

[08:29pm] (y/n): so that little cuddle fest in the kitchen today didn’t mean goodbye already?

[08:29pm] (y/n): that was embarrassing to do in front of taeyong, by the way.

[08:30pm] yuta-chan ♡: he can handle a little pda. i came first, you know.

[08:31pm] (y/n): i don’t think i’ll be able to make it, yuta. i’m out with taeyong.

[08:31pm] yuta-chan ♡: boo, you whore.

[08:31pm] yuta-chan ♡: can you please atleast try? for me?

[08:32pm] (y/n): yuta... ✓

[08:32pm] (y/n): are you serious? you lose service now?? ✓

calling yuta-chan ♡...

[08:34pm] (y/n): yuta, i cant just leave ty!! pls come back online 😭. ✓

Sighing loudly, you slam your forehead down onto your phone. The line infront of you was getting shorter and shorter, and the tickets to your movie were already purchased. What was so damn important for Yuta to want you to meet him at nine? Even if you went now, you don’t think you could be there on time. Taeyong watches curiously as you pound more messages into the device, only for you to whine since they aren’t getting through. “For God’s sake! I’m gonna kill him!”

“What did Yuta do now?” Taeyong sounds way too amused for your own liking.

Angrily, you try to call your best friend again, but to no avail. Apparently, Yuta had chucked his phone away after ominously telling you to meet him at the festival. That stupid festival, and the stupid emotional value it came with for you. “He wants me to meet him at the ferris wheel in twenty minutes!” you shout then, exasperated. The loud volume of your despair brings you a few nasty glances from the people standing in queue, but you cannot bring yourself to care right now. “And he knows exactly I’m out with you right now. I can’t just drop everything and go just because he wants me to! He didn’t even tell me why!”

“Just go, (y/n).” Taeyong pinches your cheek. The gesture would have been adorable if you weren’t so annoyed right now. “It’s just a movie, and we can just rewatch it - I’ll just call someone else.”

“No, I don’t want to.” You stuff your phone back into your pocket. You can’t come back running to Yuta, just because you love him. Being at his beck and call will just ruin you, as it always has over the many years you had been spent motionless at his side, too cowardly to step forward. The allure of velleity stops here. You have to break free of your curse now, or you’ll never be able to. “I’m sure it’s fine. I bet he just wants help with Sana or something, it’s not like he can’t do it on his own. He’s a grown man.”

“(y/n), it’s not about Sana.” Taeyong’s eyes turn serious now, shaking at your resolutement. “I think you should go.”

“Trust me, Tae, I know him. He’s just panicking because he has to leave Sana behind for a few months because he’s never dated someone over long distance, even though it’s not forever. I’m going to finally move on and accept that Yuta and I are never going to be.”

“He’s not dating Sana, (y/n)!” You squeak when Taeyoung abruptly turns to you to shake your shoulders, so unusual for the calm man he usually is. Your second mom, as you lovingly called him. “I am. They stopped dating a long time ago because Yuta explained he wasn’t into her, he was into you. He was trying to move on and failed! Do you understand, (y/n)? Nakamoto Yuta is in love with you!”

You gape at Taeyong like a fish out of water. For a few seconds, which feel like centuries, you’re so speechless you forget the urgency of the situation. Your brain can’t register everything at once, despite the fact that you just received the biggest news of your life, so it latches on to the most logical one at hand. “You’re dating Sana?” you repeat in utter shock, rumbled to the core. “When the hell were you planning to tell me?”

“I’d love to tell you more about my secret romance but I’m afraid if you stand here any longer, you’re going to miss out on your last chance to ever confess your feelings to Yuta ever again!”

The veil drops. In a matter of seconds, nothing in this world made sense but Yuta, because why wouldn’t it? Your best friend, the love of your life - suddenly growing overprotective and so hellbent on PDA, the long, sad gazes that seemed to trail after you that you had interpreted as pouting because you were neglecting your friendship. All of it falls into place, and awakens one instinct that has been buried deep inside you for years now, unused and unpolished ever since Yuta left the soccerfields behind.

Whenever the team had won, it was a race about who could tackle Yuta first. Yuta, the star player, dubbed score god by his teammates as he keeps carrying them to the win. You had learnt pretty quickly to leave your friends behind in the dust just to reach him in time, to fall in the arms that had always been waiting for you and you only. You barely remember the few occassions where Johnny had in fact been faster than you were, just for Yuta to avoid him so he could embrace you and whirl you through the air like some kind of doll. The sound of victory, the heavy pattering of a heart that is so familiar that you that it seems like your own. Now, it comes back to life - you barely remember placing the ticket into Taeyong’s hands as you stumble around and push past all the people, in direction of the main festivities. Your legs are light, lighter than the wind and the air as you run like you were running for your life, heartbeat hammering in your ears. Was it your own, or Yuta’s, the melody that has been accompanying all your life? No time to wonder as you pick up speed and pray, pray for any god willing to listen for Yuta to wait.

How could you be so silly and let him leave before telling you goodbye at the ferris wheel? Was it not another one of your silly traditions, like that disgusting alcohol and the awful takoyaki you had made in the first weeks of learning how to cook? The sweaty jerseys that were always exchanged to show your support at his games? The whispered promises, the untold ones, was it not always there? You feel blind, so blind - and so stupid! How could you not have noticed the ways Yuta’s gaze had stopped trailing after your roommate? Was it not you who left him in that bedroom and never saw him join Sana in the living room, crawling into the bed beside him when you returned like he hadn’t ever moved? Was it not you who had taken up all his time?

The festival is as stuffy as ever, as well-visited as ever. It is 09:08pm and you fear for your life, for your heart, because it’s with Nakamoto Yuta and he is about to leave with it forever. You fall onto your face a few times and scrape your knees bloodly, but you keep walking, praying.

No one familiar is standing in front of the ferris wheel.

This must be karma. It truly is, fate paying you back just in time for you to cripple in metaphoric debt. For years, you had prided yourself with knowing Yuta best, your favorite book, one you’d read for the rest of your life. Now, when you finally break out from the spot you were frozen in, it is already too late.

Atleast that’s what you think for ten long seconds.

There’s a warm hand who pulls you back, the hand that has been guiding you all your life. Late-night walks back home, your first time in Osaka. Han River’s riverbank and the streets of the city when the festival lights lit everything up. Yuta’s beaming smile goes straight to your heavy heart, and it soars in happiness as he hugs you and whispers: “You came back for me!”

“I did, you big idiot!” Without second thought, you jump into his embrace and throw both arms around his shoulders. You are right where you’re supposed to be. You’re home, you’re home, you’re home. While the salty tears of relief blur up your sight of the buzzing marketplace around you, loud, sincere laughter pearls from your lips. It’s a hymn of joy, your unofficial serenade to the man of your dreams. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here.” Yuta pulls back to cradle your face, something he had never done so carefully except that one time, almost seven years ago. “You’re here with me,” he says then, almost in disbelief. There’s a moment of silence where the magic of your teenage days returns, spell-bound, and just a second later, Yuta’s warm body finally crashes against yours as familiar lips cover your own. Of course he tastes like limoncelli, but below that, he tastes of precious memories and secret thoughts, the silent adoration that was never one-sided. His fingers trace your jawline while you tousle his hair, both mapping out each other as you imprint it into memory.

You are unconditionally, irrevoceably in love with Nakamoto Yuta. You tell him that when he finally lets go of you, and he repeats it back, as many times as he can. Confessions and explanations are exchanged, but nothing really matters except the fact that you managed to jump back in time and finally fulfill your chance. You finally made your move.

“I don’t think I can let you go to Japan yet,” you tell him then, several minutes later, while you stand in line to the ferris wheel, even though he should be long gone by now. There’s a flight to Tokyo going in two hours, and yet he’s still here. Clinging to your hand like you’re going to disappear if he looks away. Love-stricken eyes that make your knees go weak. “You owe me some explanations.”

Yuta pulls you closer with the arm he keeps hooked around your waist, bright smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll have plenty of time up there to spill,” he responds and kisses the tip of your nose. He smells like home. Like forever and beyond. “I love you. I’ll give you the rest of my life in exchange for just one evening with you.”

No, one evening wasn’t enough. You’d give Yuta eternity in exchange for his heart, but let’s just start with today. In celebration of being inclined to move. For two hearts who were lost at sea, meeting again after what they thought would be never ever. He’s definitely going to miss that flight, though.

[samstree]

You are too well tangled in my soul (2/4)

Inspired by The Time-Traveler's Wife.  

Pairing:  Geralt x Jaskier

Geralt is a time-traveler, and Jaskier falls in love in a slightly misplaced order.

Warnings: referenced child abuse and mentions of chronic pain

Read on AO3

Calling the Witcher ‘old friend’ at the tavern was probably a mistake. The Geralt walking in front of Jaskier looks exactly the same as he remembers: golden eyes and rugged jawline. And yet, this is the furthest Jaskier has ever felt from him ever since the first sunset at the lake.

There is no warmth to greet him, no knowing smile or softness, only indifference that bleeds into annoyance. The gut-punch is as loud a declaration as it gets. This Geralt is the youngest Jaskier has ever seen him, hardened with weary travels and open night skies, and yet seasoned enough to have settled into distrust and isolation.

As they trudge through Dol Blathanna, the notebook filled with their encounters sits in Jaskier’s pocket, every date recorded with the utmost carefulness, burning a hole onto his mind. How does he explain it? How does he explain that he’s been friends with the Witcher for eight years while he only glares at Jaskier with derision? No, that is too unfair.

Besides, even if he dumps it all out, Geralt is unlikely to just…transform into the person in Jaskier’s memory. This Witcher is not the ever-present friend of Jaskier’s childhood, not yet. He knows better than most that you can’t force people into becoming someone they are not.

Jaskier leaves the notebook at the bottom of his pack.

At the edge of the world, he witnesses the heartbreaks of an elf king. The second-hand stories he knows by heart now pale in comparison. A taste of the real world, of the real pain humans have been ignoring is all it takes for Jaskier to be sure of his path. He is a storyteller. Destiny has decided that when it brought the amber eyes into his life at the age of eleven, so he tells the story. He writes the song.

Jaskier starts following Geralt.

They settle into a routine: monsters, songs, and nothing more. There are no mythical powers that can bring his best friend to him anymore, only the newly acquainted Wolf Witcher who now tolerates him with glowers.

It shouldn’t sting when Jaskier sings their adventures at taverns and Geralt only grunts as feedback. It shouldn’t sting when his chatter is only answered with silence or an absent-minded hum. It shouldn’t sting when Geralt flinches upon hearing Jaskier refer to him as friend while begging to see the hunt himself.

“We are not friends, Jaskier.”

It shouldn’t because it is where their story begins, properly this time. And yet it does.

Seasons pass. Jaskier cannot stop searching for recognition in those amber eyes. Nothing comes up. Still, he searches.

  Geralt notices.

Of course. As subtle as Jaskier would like to believe he is, his companion is too perceptive. We can tell by the heartbeat when someone is lying or hiding something. He learned this long ago by the lakeside, when Geralt indulged his curiosity by debunking all the Witcher myths. No, Julian. We cannot read minds.

His excitement that day reflected in the Witcher’s eyes that were amused by a child’s wonderment.

Can he tell what Jaskier is hiding now?

Jaskier stares long at his form on Roach when a throw-away comment from the Witcher brings him right back to the lake, all the words stuck at his throat.

“You’ve been quiet, bard.”

“What? Miss my lovely voice?”

“Glad for the silence.” Geralt drops it, but his gaze lingers for a moment.

At night, Jaskier helps the Witcher remove his armours, a newly formed habit as their travels settle into a familiar rhythm. His fingers untie the complicated knots. Geralt’s breaths brush by his ear.

A warm hand comes up to steady Jaskier by the elbow, the thumb drawing small circles on his chemise. It’s a comfort that he has received so many times before, a reassurance that he can trace by heart. And yet, Geralt is unaware.

Jaskier’s breath hitches in his chest, his heartbeat suddenly rabbiting.

“Alright?”

He cannot acknowledge the concern, scared that more will be revealed. Muttering something about being late, he fumbles away to his bedroll and burrows deep. As the churning in his mind subsides, Jaskier falls asleep hoping that it never comes up again.

  It comes up again.

They sit by the glowing campfire, Geralt having just returned from a hunt in the forest. Despite the Witcher’s reluctance, Jaskier nudges him to spill the details and takes them down for new songs. The scratching of his quill fills Geralt’s contemplative pauses.

“This is all very good, Geralt. It’d make a great song. But what was the wyvern like? Come on, help me paint the picture.”

“It was…big, and green.”

Jaskier chuckles, his quill hovering mid-air. So many times before has Geralt only described a monster as ‘big’ or ‘fast’, even the older, more mature Witcher he met in his teenage years sometimes struggled with more adjectives. Being the curious child he was, Jaskier pestered incessantly for more during their short encounters. At night, he would lie in bed, playing out the scene in his head, clashes of magic and steel lulling him into sleep. Now, almost a decade later, he sits in the exact same spot in front of the Witcher, desperate to learn anything from a quest, just to be stunted by Geralt’s inability to form words.

“Some things never change.”

Jaskier smiles to himself and continues to fill in the blanks with more theatrical touches. A song does not become the greatest hit on the Continent just with plain facts and verbs. Chewing on the quill, he barely notices that Geralt’s posture has stiffened.

“Why do you say that?”

“What?” Still distracted with composing a melody for the words, Jaskier looks up at Geralt, whose expression now full of alert.

“What never changes?”

“Um…Just you?” Jaskier stammers, “Stingy on the details, as usual.”

“It’s not just today.” Geralt scowls and stands, pacing around camp irritated. “You talk as if… as if you know me a great deal, Jaskier. You look at me as if you see an old friend. You were familiar with me from the very first day. You didn’t run away in fear like so many others.”

Oh well, subtlety is not exactly Jaskier’s forte.

“You know me,” He tries to gloss it over. “the ever so friendly bard.”

Geralt considers him skeptically. Under the intense scrutiny, Jaskier swallows a lump in his throat. The Witcher finally relents.

“Whatever you see in me, bard,” Geralt lets out a resigned sigh, “it’s not there. So stop looking.”

It’s too late for that, Jaskier thinks. Or too early.

  “I mean, why can’t I just tell you everything?”

Geralt walks beside Jaskier, his hair in a simple pony. A long scar runs down his left eye, barely missing it.

That one’s new.

It’s so jarring that Jaskier cannot stop staring at it from time to time. Added with the well-trimmed beard, framing his rugged face, Jaskier is almost looking at someone else. Witchers don’t age like the rest of them do, but the years are clearly showing on Geralt’s face, giving him more gravitas. The White Wolf, indeed.

He has a slight limp in one of his legs, also something new. The breastplate of his armour is worn and beat after what looks like decades of use.

A strange sight. Jaskier has only witnessed the man’s younger counterpart buy the same plate a week ago at a market in Cidaris, brand new and shiny. It was right before Jaskier decided to stay and perform at the local court and Geralt traveled on by himself.

The small garden behind the main hall is where he has found the older Witcher, who embraced Jaskier immediately without a beat. It is when Jaskier breathes in the familiar pine and leather that he realizes how much he’s missed his old friend, even though he’s been traveling with the same person for the past year.

Keeping the secret has taken a toll on Jaskier, as he only notices now that he is completely relaxed. He desperately wishes to unload it.

“You are going to know anyway. When you inevitably end up in Lettenhove, pimpled teenage me in front of you.”

“Jask,” The endearment comes out of the older Witcher so naturally, his voice deep and rich as wine. “You have seen me in my younger days. I was quite…let’s say, untrusting. I was determined to be alone. Telling me that destiny has bound me to a bard with no self-preservation instincts would only send me running away screaming.”

Jaskier teases, “Now that’s something I’d like to see. The mighty Witcher running and screaming because of a bard.”

“Hmm,” Geralt smiles in return, “There are things that we have to experience for ourselves. Just wait a bit longer. I’m unlikely to be pulled away when we are together. It’ll have to be when we part ways. As I said, it’s like a homing beacon.”

An anchor.

“And now, you are only here when Geralt is gone. I mean, you. The younger you.” Jaskier muses, “Destiny has a way of keeping you from running into yourself. Hah! Probably a good idea. Imagine the brooding doubled.”

Geralt stays oddly silent and guides them both to sit on one of the benches, his knee stiff and slow to bend. It slipped Jaskier’s notice that now there is a sheen of sweat on Geralt’s forehead, his brows furrowing in pain. He starts rubbing at the knee with a wince, breathing through the discomfort. His right elbow also creaks like an old ship, followed by a pained gasp.

With the fast healing, it must be a particularly bad injury for it to affect Geralt this much. Jaskier rubs his hands together to warm them up and places them on the Witcher’s elbow, slowly massaging it to ease out the tension. He’s quite unsure of his touches but judging from Geralt’s gradually relaxing posture, it is working nonetheless.

“What kind of beast hurt you like this? Can I warn you when the day comes?” Jaskier’s worry clenches in his chest. After a moment, Geralt places his larger hand on top of Jaskier’s, an unvoiced thanks. So Jaskier lets go.

They are sitting too closely together. Jaskier can see the tiny scars on Geralt’s face, thin lines that disappear into the thick beard. Leather and pine, the most reassuring scents in the world, overwhelm his senses and draw him closer.

“I wish we could take away all the hurt that will happen.” Geralt says with regret, “But no, Jask, I’d rather not. Some things need to happen for us both to be here today. Not to mentions many others.”

“I can just warn you about this one thing.”

Geralt’s gaze meets Jaskier’s, the long scar prominent. “Some things are too important to risk. I now have people who are dear to me. They – they’ve all come a long way. I wouldn’t change it for the world if it means they are safe. Even if I have to go through this.” He rubs at his knee again.

The wight behind the words settles in Jaskier’s chest.

The Geralt he has been traveling with is so determined on isolation and detachment, rejecting even simple friendship. He cares, in his own silent, brooding way. Jaskier sees it when he refuses payment from people who are struggling to make ends meet. He sees it when he buys Jaskier new boots when a pair has worn out. And He sees it when Roach’s coat is always kept pristine when the Witcher cannot afford new clothing for himself.

But the man in front of Jaskier speaks of people in his life with love and openness, all his rough edges softened and smoothed. Whatever happened in the years in between, Jaskier is eager to learn.

“You are a self-sacrificing idiot as usual.” He jokes.

The adoration in Jaskier’s heart unfurls into something more, something he does not dare to name. The same something, he realizes, is the gravity behind Geralt’s golden eyes that he’s been unable to name.

  Jaskier is twenty-four when Geralt finds out.

He has just spent a winter at Oxenfurt after being offered a teaching post while Geralt returned to Kaer Morhen as usual. The job is exciting and the students cannot be more pleasant. Adding the occasional visits from Essi and Shani, Jaskier doesn’t have many complaints.

And if he lingers too long in the greenhouse, standing wishfully for something to happen, that’s no one else’s business.

Usually Jaskier waits until the ground begins to thaw before departing for Kaedwen, where he will continue to roam and perform in major cities and possibly run into Geralt. Their shared journeys are never planned and they never agreed upon any meeting places, but somehow the bard can always find the Witcher in the springtime, so that they may resume their on-and-off travels.

This spring, however, an unexpected cold spell hits Oxenfurt after buds have sprouted from bald branches. A blanket of snow covers the cobblestone streets overnight, driving students and staff alike indoors with sniffles and shudders.

Jaskier is intending to retreat into his bedroom with a cup of steaming ginger tea, when he hears of two professors talking about the famous White Wolf being stopped at the city gate. Perplexed, he puts on a heavy coat and walks across town, blowing at his frozen fingers to desperately warm them up.

Geralt never seeks him out when the season turns, despite Jaskier’s attempt at hinting at his wintering plans multiple times every fall. If the Witcher is here this early in the spring, he must have left the Blue Mountains when the howling wind of winter was still raging. Traveling across the continent in the cold cannot be easy even for the Witcher, especially when contracts are still scarce.

Jaskier’s boots crunch the snow beneath them, his vision filled with the clear, grey sky and snowflakes scatted in the air. Outside the city gate, a tall, cloaked figure is being told off by a guard. A chestnut mare waits loyally in the distance.

Geralt is right there, snowflakes peppering his dark cloak. His complexion is sour as ever.

Gods, Jaskier has missed him.

“Geralt! What brings you here?” Jaskier shouts to get his attention and jogs on the slippery road to embrace the Witcher. The hug is brief and impersonal, and when he steps back the misery is still present.

“Aren’t you happy to see your best friend? After all, you’re the one who traveled in this sodding weather just to see me.”

Jaskier expects a rebuttal of the claim ‘best friend’, but it never comes. The Witcher’s comprehension is mixed with travel-weary, souring him even further.

“I have something of great importance to discuss with you, Jaskier.” Geralt gestures to the guard. “But this man won’t let me into the city.”

Jaskier turns to the guard and explains that the Witcher is an esteemed guest of the university, before they are both let in with Roach in tow.

The walk to Jaskier’s lodging is silent with a tension in the air. The Witcher looks tired, disheveled from the wind and cold. Jaskier will warm them both up with a fire and ginger tea then.

“So,” Jaskier tries to make conversation, “Before we discuss the thing of ‘great importance’, how was Kaer Morhen? You know, the mythical Witcher keep nobody knows anything about.”

“It was…fine.”

“Masterful conversationalist as ever.” Jaskier takes in the curt response and fills the silence with stories of his winter at the university. He chuckles at the funny bits himself when Geralt seems deep in thoughts the entire time.

Once they have put Roach in the university’s stable and entered Jaskier’s warm bedroom, the tension can be cut by a knife. An inexplicable nervousness bobbles up in Jaskier’s throat as Geralt puts down his pack by the door and begins to speak.

“Jaskier –”

“Before you say anything,” he interrupts, pulling out a bottle of wine and two glasses. It seems that ginger tea might not be enough to get him through this conversation. “We should warm up a little. Can you believe the weather!”

He puts one glass on the table near Geralt and downs the other in one go.

“Jaskier,” Geralt reasserts himself, the golden eyes determined. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve met me before?”

Jaskier studies his glass as if it is the most interesting thing in the world. The Witcher continues.

“There was a lake, in the woods. You were young, and you…you greeted me by name. You knew me.” Geralt’s brows scrunch up in confusion. “You knew me before we met.”

“Um…yes?” Jaskier grimaces.

“Why haven’t you told me before? Damn it, Jaskier. You knew this whole time that I –”

“That you can magically time travel to my childhood?” Jaskier puts down his empty glass next to Geralt’s untouched one. “What was I supposed to say back then, Geralt? ‘Hello, you don’t know me but I know everything about you. And that includes your secret power because I’ve met you twenty times before –’”

“Twenty times?”

“Well I haven’t counted in a while so I could be off.”

Geralt sighs, palming his face. They both look away. The weighted silence in the room is only interrupted by the occasional crackling in the fireplace.

“Twenty times.” Geralt mutters to himself. “How – why?”

Jaskier tries, “You told me yourself. Your powers have this…pull. It’s like –”

“Gravity.”

“It pulls you to certain places or certain people.” Jaskier vaguely gestures around himself.

Realization dawns on Geralt’s face.

“That’s why you followed me. That’s why you weren’t scared of me, why you look at me…” He trails off. “Because destiny already forced me into your life.”

Geralt’s features morph into a stoic resignation, something Jaskier is too familiar with. It’s what Geralt looks like when someone chases him out of an inn or throws things at him, or when mothers yell at their children to get away from him.

No. Jaskier won’t allow it now.

“No,” His voice is desperate, “It was because you were my best friend. You are my best friend. You were there for me by the lake when no one else was. I followed you because you are kind and brave –”

“Because destiny already decided for you.”

“No –”

“Gods, Jaskier. You were so young. You shouldn’t be bound to me by something I cannot even control.”

Jaskier takes in a shuddering breath. “It’s too late for that.”

He doesn’t know how to convince Geralt, who looks so guilty through Jaskier’s blurred vision. He feels weak and hollow.

The conversation continues but Jaskier pays no attention. Geralt says something about traveling separately for a while and begins to leave. Golden eyes meet Jaskier one last time before the door clicks shut.

Running away while screaming indeed.

Sagging into a chair, Jaskier remembers the worn-out notebook sitting on the shelf, untouched.

Once again, Jaskier is left alone, his best friend disappearing right in front of his eyes.

  Jaskier tries to find Geralt but always falls a step behind.

He travels and plays, pleasing tavern audiences so he may get a place to sleep. He asks about the white-haired Witcher everywhere he goes, hoping he can catch up with him just like so many other times. But the Witcher is gone whenever Jaskier sets foot into a town, as if sensing his presence.

“Isn’t that your Witcher? The one from your songs?”

Jaskier tries not to wince.

“He was here days ago, but I heard he left for Novigrad.” The innkeeper says in confusion, “Why aren’t you with him?”

Putting on a bright smile, Jaskier answers, “Even the most talented artist cannot stay with his muse at all times. Lest the creativity runs dry too soon.”

He sets out for Novigrad, but never reaches it.

Jaskier does not see the bandits coming, nor is he capable of fending off all five of them. The dagger he hides in his boot and the sword fighting lessons that tutors once forced upon him can only do so much against these fully armed men.

After stabbing one of them in the shoulder, causing the man to yell and cuss, Jaskier is knocked out from behind.

Jaskier wakes up flung across the back of a dark horse. The pain at the back of his head throbs with every step it takes, the moving ground makes bile rise in his throat. The men talk about ransom from the Count de Lettenhove for his only son.

Oh, dear.

There is no way to tell how they learned, since Jaskier is gagged and tied to a tree when they set camp. He doubts his kidnappers are willing to indulge his curiosity anyway. A growl comes from his stomach. The fire and roasted dinner warm in the distance but clearly these men are not the sharing type.

Frustrated, Jaskier dozes off as night falls, listening to their constant chatter about how to spend the ransom. Too bad for them, Jaskier thinks half-asleep, they are not getting any money. Father will probably thank them for stopping the family embarrassment from tarnishing the Pankratz name any further.

Jaskier wakes up again, to the sound of yelling and weapons clash.

Bodies are flung across the campsite; his captors scream in pain and scatter. The startles horses gallop away with some of them on top. A flash of black and silver moves with an elegance that can inspire songs after songs.

A hand comes to remove the gag in Jaskier’s mouth and continues to undo the ropes around his wrists. Concern sparks in the gold, the softness overlapping with Jaskier’s distant memories. He should greet an old friend, or it’ll seem rude –

“Julian,” Geralt says, “That’s a terrible name for you.”

Jaskier blinks. Now Geralt is reaching to untie the knot behind Jaskier, their breaths only inches away. No scar. These are the same eyes that left him in Oxenfurt months ago, with the click of a door.

Not an old friend, then.

“That’s why I changed it.” The rope burns on Jaskier’s wrists sting when he tries to flex them. He states the obvious, “I see my Witcher in shining armor has come back to save me, again.”

“It’s like you are looking for trouble, bard.”

“Not like it was my fault.” Well, only a little bit his fault.

“Hmm.”

“I was looking for you.”

“I know.”

Of course, he was avoiding Jaskier on purpose.

“Why did you have a change of heart then? Missed my charming personalities?” Jaskier intends a joke, but the old name reminds him. “Wait. You were at the lake again?”

Geralt hums as Jaskier gets up to rummage through what his kidnappers left. Thank the gods they thought his lute and bags might be worth something and didn’t chuck them in a ditch.

Neither the lute case nor the instrument inside received much damage, to Jaskier’s relief. He should check for his bags as well –

“You kept asking when I would be back.”

Jaskier pauses. “And you couldn’t answer.”

“You asked me not to leave. You cried.”

Yes, he desperately grasped for any semblance of certainty as a child, and when he couldn’t get it young Julian spiraled into a panic, begging the Witcher not to leave. He remembers trying to hold back the tears but it came out with snot and hiccups. The embarrassment is still fresh after a decade.

“Well, there’s no need to remind me.”

“No, I –” Geralt struggles with words, “You said you kept records for me. I don’t want to disappoint you again, if I go back there. When I go back.”

The leather-bound notebook is still sitting at the bottom of Jaskier’s bag. He can feel the shape of it through the fabric. It is what Geralt came back for, just so he can have an answer for that child, so he will not disappoint him next time.

“That’s sweet.”

“Jaskier. I would never choose to entangle your life with mine, a Witcher’s. It’s –” Geralt breathes, “You were so young.”

So he said, months ago. Jaskier digs into the bag and retrieves the notebook, walks up to Geralt, and presses it on his chest. Geralt catches it, his gaze never leaving Jaskier’s.

“I wrote down the dates after each of your visits. All you need should be in there.” Jaskier suddenly notices how tired and hungry he is, the headache flaring up once he’s upright. He sways as a clink of metal hits the ground and Geralt’s strong hand steadies him at the elbow. “Oh, thanks.”

Geralt only hums, but his amber eyes keep studying Jaskier.

“You said you didn’t want me bound to your life.” Jaskier tries again, “But Geralt, you were the best part of my childhood. You were the reason I could leave that wretched place. You were the only person who saw me when no one paid any attention. I – I cannot imagine my life if you weren’t in it, if you hadn’t shown up by that lake in Lettenhove. So please…don’t turn away from me.”

He’s begging again, just like ten years ago. He’s begging for the little boy waiting by the water. He’s begging for himself now. It doesn’t matter that it’s embarrassing because after a beat, Geralt nods.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I said okay,” Geralt’s expression sags with softness. “I – You were so excited to see me. You asked about my hunts. And Jaskier, you were so unhappy in your own home, but my stories – There was a spark in your eyes when you listened to them.”

Jaskier’s breath hitches. He looks into the sunlight gold boring into his with warmth.

“Does that mean you’ll stop running from me?”

“I would never want to snuff it out. That spark.” Geralt sounds apologetic, “I see now that you decided this life by yourself. Travelling and adventures. They suit you well, Jaskier. So yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Because there is a boy in Lettenhove, and he really, really looks forward to seeing you. In fact, he is counting the days right now, for your next return.”

Geralt chuckles, “That’s not how this works.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jaskier grins in return, patting the Witcher on the arm. Geralt looks at the notebook in his hand and says solemnly, “I won’t disappoint him again.”

  The door of their shared inn room creaks open and it sounds like a bag of coin is dropped on the table.

“Ah. I see you collected payment for the Griffin.” Jaskier looks up from the music sheets spread out on the bed.

“I was at the lake with you.”

Jaskier feels a big grin spread across his face.

“You made me tell you about the hunt.” Geralt says.

“Yes, I remember. And I composed my very first Witcher song two days later. Well, only in my head and it lacked a bit polish, but you know, I was eleven.”

“Does that mean I’m spared now?”

“Yes, my dear. You may be spared of recounting your mighty battles for now. I still remember it quite vividly. Did you tell me you bit feathers off its wing and choked?”

“Fuck off, bard.”

Jaskier chuckles and gets back to his composing. It might be time to revisit an old song yet.

  “I was at the lake with you.”

“When?”

“Last month, when we were apart.”

“No, when for me?”

Geralt looks down at Jaskier, who is lying in the meadow of wildflowers next to the Witcher’s crossed legs, trying and failing to braid a flower crown of dandelions. The afternoon heat is relentless, drenching them both in sweat before they have to take a break.

Tall shrubs cast down a cool shade where they are sitting, shielding away the scorch. Roach is nibbling at some flowers in the distance, the same flowers that Jaskier cannot seem to bend into shape without crushing.

“You were…older.” Geralt says after considering, “You braided flowers into my hair.”

“Oh yeah. That day. Can I do it now?”

“You are not a child anymore.”

“No, but this is not working.” Jaskier throws away the dandelions that are now in pieces, pouting. He lies back on the grass, inhaling the fresh smell of grass and letting the breeze cool him down a little. Above him, Geralt looks refreshed after a short meditation.

“You were getting restless. In your own home, about your own future. You kept asking me if you were going to leave Lettenhove.”

“And you distracted me by letting me braid your hair. I totally forgot about pestering you for the rest of the day.”

“It worked.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier is almost impressed.

Geralt pauses for a moment. “You were so unhappy, Jaskier. You couldn’t see a future for yourself.”

“Well, that’s why I left. It’s all fine now. I’m living my best life with my favorite time traveler. Don’t worry, dear.” With his forearm placed on his eyes, Jaskier is completely relaxed.

“Should I have told you, just so you had an idea?”

Sometimes Jaskier still thinks about his childhood in Lettenhove, how miserable he was under all the expectations that he was never going to meet. No, he couldn’t see a future for himself as the Viscount, neither did his father, as the falling of canes and sticks proved. Sometimes Jaskier still wakes up from nightmares rehashing those beatings.

Would it have been better if his younger self had known what the future had in store?

“No,” He says, “Don’t tell me anything. What I went through put me here. It made me what I am. Telling me the future might change things, and I would never take that risk.”

“Hmm.” Geralt sounds apprehensive. “I’ll have to keep you in the dark.”

Sitting up, Jaskier places a hand on Geralt’s knee, the one that’s going to retain an injury that doesn’t heal well, the one that’s going to creak and spasm on a rainy day. Geralt from the future is willing to endure the hurt just to make sure everything goes right, young Julian will have to as well.

“I wish there’s another way. Believe me, I do. But…it’s too much at risk.” He squeezes, hoping it’s reassuring. “I know you don’t like this, Geralt. But time is too tricky, you can’t tell me anything about my future. That’s the rule.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“It might be the first rule anyone’s had about time travels.”

“Right,” Jaskier smiles tightly, “The very first one.”

They go back to cooling off in a companionable silence before moving on again. Geralt rides on Roach’s back while Jaskier strums his lute on the ground, playing a song in Elder absent-mindedly.

For what it is worth, Jaskier’s past is already too well tangled with this beautiful Witcher in front of him. There is no changing his fate now.

A comforting weight unfurls in his heart whenever Geralt is near, regardless of which version of him it is. It unfurls even further with each step they take together over the years. In the blazing afternoon sun, it blooms into something else.

Oh.

He loves him.

He loves him with all he is, was, and ever will be.

No matter. Their days ahead will be just as entwined as the past.

Jaskier strums his lute again, the song turns into something bawdy. The amber looks back at him with mirth and a mirrored smile.

[vampirestookmydoubts]

I love your stories with Afile/Shelby Sister. If you wouldn’t mind could you please use prompt 26&40 for them together, feel like it would end up dead cute. Thankyou:)

A/N: Ugh I love this so much. Can Alfie please appear and be my baby daddy? Not trying to be weird lol. Thank you for requesting it! I had a lot of fun writing it

Prompt:26. „Does he know about the baby?“40. “You have his eyes.”

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

Warnings: none; as always I didn’t proofread lol

You leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa and felt yourself instantly relax.

A quiet sigh left your lips and you closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the comfort you felt.

“How are my two favorite people in the world today?”

“Tired.”, you answered shifting in your position to allow him to pull you by the waist into a hug.

“Good morning Mr Solomons.” You opened your eyes slightly to look at a smiling but tired Alfie. “Good morning, Mrs Solomons.”, the beardy man grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Oh, and good morning little Solomons.” His hand moved up from your waist to your belly, caressing the place where a second but smaller heartbeat grew.

You felt your own heartbeat race in excitement, when the baby inside you moved, kicking slightly against your belly as Alfies hand moved over it.

“He loves your voice and touch.”, you murmured, looking up at your husband’s joyful face as he grunted in response.

“How about I’m taking you both out to grab some of your favorite food, eh?” Laying a hand upon Alfies you shook your head. “Did you forget? My family’s coming today.”

He looked confused for a moment, seemingly trying to remember todays date. “Tommy called us a week ago, Alfie. I thought I am the one with pregnancy brain.”

The beardy one snorted. “Yeah, you are. And you’re even more sassy than before.”

You playfully hit him on the shoulder, resulting in Alfie to embrace you even more tightly. “Does he know about the baby?”

Glancing down at your swollen belly, you stroked it, lost in your thoughts. “I haven’t told him. Neither of them. I think my aunt Pol already knew it at the wedding.”

“How so?” You looked at him and shrugged. “Polly just knows it. She’s also always right in predicting the gender.” Alfie lifted his eyebrows gazing at you like you lost your mind.

“You gypsies sometimes scare me with ya magic, eh.”

“Shut up and help me stand up so I can get ready.”, you asked, lifting your arms for Alfie to pull you up.

Three hours later, just as you finished setting the table and smoothed out the red tablecloth the doorbell rang.

Nervousness suddenly started to flood your body. You were able to distract yourself the last hours, cleaning the house and preparing the food.

But now at hearing the doorbell it all came back. You could already imagine how your brothers would react to seeing you and the… physical shape you were in.

You examined the golden wedding band on your left hand, reminding you of the vow you made. Recalling the vow that Alfie made. To always protect and support you.

You were no longer a Shelby by name and the wedding band proved that.

“Ah, the Shelby clan. Come in, come in.” You heard Alfies deep voice sound from the entrance and a few handshakes were exchanged.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your dress, walking out of the dining room to greet your family.

“Where’d you leave our sister? Did you already chain her sassy ass to the cellar?”, John asked, earning him a side glance from Polly, just as you walked around the corner.

“He wouldn’t dare chain me anywhere, John boy.”, you hummed, the eyes of your family involuntarily moving from Alfie to your face and to your belly. Silent filled the floor for a moment, everyone trying to process what they were seeing.

“I knew it!” “Oh my god.” Polly and Ada exclaimed at the same time, them and Esme immediately walking towards you to embrace you in a big hug. Your sister cupped your face in her hand, pressing her red colored lips to your temple. “I can’t believe my baby sister is having a baby!”

Arthur stirred uncomfortably in his position, mumbling something incomprehensible, before he congratulated you with a hug. “You better treat my sister and the baby right or else-”

“Something bad might happen.”, John added earning him a scold from Polly.

Finn just murmured how ‘weird’ it was to see you pregnant.

As the majority of the family resettled to the dining room, it was just Tommy and you in the corridor now. Quiet you looked at each other, communicating with just a glance, just like when you were younger.

“I’m happy, Tommy.”, you exclaimed, your right hand supporting your belly.

“Yeah, I can see that.” At his honest answer, you felt the tears well up in your eyes and you extended your arms for Tommy to embrace you. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

The following dinner went without any further problems, the awkwardness from the greeting changing to a normal Shelby family dinner atmosphere, filled with spilled wine, laughter and the quarreling of siblings.

“Oh, Polly! You have to predict the baby’s gender!”, Ada suddenly expressed in excitement, your aunt already rolling up her sleeves as she stood to walk around the table to kneel beside you.

You smiled as her hands roamed over your belly, her head turning to study Alfie’s face with a mysterious gleam in her eyes.

“Mhm, I was right. You have his eyes.” Alfie and you looked at each other, your husbands face lightening up as he understood what Polly just said. Ada cheered, already planning how Karl and your son would make perfect play buddies.

“He’s going to be attached to your hip, dear. You should call him Levi.”

Just as Polly said the name, the baby moved, softly kicking against your aunts hand still pressed against your belly.

“I think he likes that.”, you murmured, while the women started to celebrate in honor of the new addition of the Shelby family.

Alfie just took your hand giving it a light squeeze and moving to your belly, whispering to it so only you could hear it.

“Levi Solomons, I promise to always protect you and your beautiful mother. I can’t wait to finally meet you.”

[lovelylaurie]

I’d like to formally request a fic that’s wedding day/night with Laurie with the reader as a March sister (if possible could you make her age be in between Beth and Jo) thank you so much!

Everything Forever

Laurie x (March) Reader Words: 2042 Request:

I’d like to formally request a fic that’s wedding day/night with Laurie with the reader as a March sister (if possible could you make her age be in between Beth and Jo) thank you so much!

--

    You sat alone in your childhood bedroom, the one shared between you and your sisters for so many years. It was cramped but homely, less like sardines or pearl onions, packed into their pickling jars, and more like a basket of kittens, all piled together to maintain warmth and closeness. 

     It was an incredibly grown-up thing, getting married, but you yourself didn’t feel grown-up. You still felt small in comparison to the world and there was an innate desire tugging at your mind to crawl back into your little box, your little home. Your entire family was bustling about downstairs to get everything ready on time: Marmee, your sisters, your father, Hannah, Mr. Laurence, Brooke, and Demi and Daisy (ring bearer and flower girl respectively, of course). Aunt March, too, was there, but you could more easily see her perched on a couch, judging the minutest of details with a trained and scrupulous eye, than deigning to get involved in the mess. You could hear them, faintly, but up here the air was silent. Memories lingered around you like the smell of sweetness, of a cake baking, heartwarming and delicious but undeniably out of reach. There’s a certain lucidity to remembrance that just isn’t possible in the present moment. It allows you to savor what would otherwise be neglected details while also knowing that the time to truly appreciate them has come and gone. And so we sit from afar and long for times past, miss the present, and resent the future for eternally failing to match our expectations. As you emerged out of childhood and into teenhood and then very quickly into adulthood, the future had begun to scare you. While it had previously been always more of the same, it now morphed into something unpredictable. It was, truly, the forever unknown. It took you a while to notice, but being with Laurie melted all that away. Anxious thoughts of future responsibilities dissolved into thin air. Like steam from a boiling pot, they came from a place of torrid churning, but the rising vapor just seemed to disappear after a few seconds. It wasn’t that he returned you to that safe and carefree home. It’s that he was that home for you. You had spent so long worrying about marriage and making mistakes. While Jo rejected the idea and Meg yearned for it, you dreaded not the act itself, but choosing poorly. You feared being falsely swept off your feet and lured into an unhappy marriage just as much as passing by acceptable options for too long and being forced into a lonely life. It wasn’t that the future seemed clear with Laurie, it’s just that it made more sense. The future could go do whatever it wanted because you were enjoying the now. The image of his face and his grin filled your head and you found yourself smiling. Laurie…       There was a sound at the door and Jo peeked her head in. “Ah!” She smiled. “I’ve found you.” You suspected she might try to speak with you privately, so her arrival was no surprise.  “Are you going to try and talk me out of this? Meg warned me.” Your voice was quieter than you expected, its soft tone humming through the golden-hued room.  “No, no, I…” She fumbled with her fingertips nervously. “I’m happy for you.”  “Oh, Jo!” You held out your hand for her and she crossed the room in a heartbeat to sit beside you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You loved her, your caring and brave-hearted big sister. “I know you were excited at first, but I was worried that if you really thought about it, you wouldn’t be…”  She spoke to you softly, “Meg may be content with her stale bore of a husband, but you’ve somehow managed to make Laurie my brother, and for that, I will be forever grateful.” You grinned and your laugh was breathy and weepy. Jo just held you, but you could tell tears were brimming in the corners of her eyes, too.

--

    You were sitting quietly at the dining room table eating a late-morning breakfast with a book propped open before you, quietly accompanied by Beth. Then a stampede of footfalls thundered down the stairs and Jo burst into the room, almost running into the table in her haste. “(y/n), Laurie has a surprise for you!!!” Laurie ran in after her and clamped a hand over her mouth, “I’m never telling you anything ever again.” You were understandably confused. Glancing between them and Beth for some explanation, you noticed a glow of realization dawn on her face. She beamed and turned to Jo. “I think I know what it is…” Jo nodded vigorously and Beth squealed. Betrayal… “Does everyone know except me?” Beth was still grinning “That’s what makes it a surprise.” “Well not Meg,” Jo pointed out. “Actually…” Laurie looked down bashfully. “I went over yesterday to see Daisy and Demi and told her.” You glared at him and he expertly avoided your gaze. “But not Amy, she still doesn’t know.” Jo rolled her eyes, “Well of course not, she can’t keep a secret to save her life.” “Neither can you!” Laurie looked petulant. “You do realize you have to tell me now, right?” Laurie was giving you an odd look, one of tender anticipation but also of unbridled love. “Not yet, but you will, and it’ll be splendid!” Jo gushed. “Wha-” You tried to get some sort of explanation, but she flew back up the stairs from whence she came. Laurie walked over to you and placed a sweet kiss on your lips. The way he looked at you now was so precious, so special. You felt so lucky to be in love with such a beautiful and kind young man. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, too.” He kissed you one more time before leaving. Smirking as he went, you could see his usual air of mischief brimming behind his eyes. “What was that?” you questioned, but Beth simply smiled.

--

    As you stood across from Laurie now, you could barely remember the past few hours. Putting on your dress, doing your hair, it was all a complete daze. But honestly, right now, at the altar, they didn’t matter one bit, one tiny, measly, insignificant iota. The only thing in your mind was Laurie. The way he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world, the way he ran his thumb over the backs of your hands as he held them. Your heart was beating erratically and you could tell his was, too. Every fiber of your being felt jittery and electric, and you wondered, for a moment, if this was the exact physical feeling of love. You were so focused on Laurie that you could barely hear your father as he spoke about how love can brew quietly for a long time, and how that love is always the softest and the easiest kind of love. It dawned on you, then, how perfectly lucky you were that you would get to spend the rest of your life in such splendid and wonderful bliss with Laurie. Your Laurie… “I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” In the blink of an eye, Laurie was kissing you, with a hand held tenderly on your cheek. There was so much passion and emotion in that kiss, it was as if he had been waiting the entire day for that exact moment. To be fair, so were you, and so was everyone else. It was a wedding, after all.

--

    After breakfast, you joined Jo and Laurie upstairs in the attic to listen to her read aloud from a book she had just finished. Beth followed soon after, curling up next to Jo like a sleeping cat. You and Laurie sat entwined, half sitting and half laying down. Then Jo switched to the book Aunt March was having her read, for comparison, and she put on the most dry, drawling tone that somehow had you laughing in spite of it.     Jo and Beth left eventually, but you and Laurie stayed. You couldn’t pass up an opportunity to lay in each other’s arms in the playful warmth of the attic. You’d think an attic to be dark, but not this one. The windows were positioned perfectly, in such a way that light shone in and filled the room with a golden glow. You played with Laurie’s hair idly, petting the dark curls and twirling them in your fingers. It was the easiest thing in the world to love him. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite hear. “Hm?” you asked lazily, “Did you say something?” He gazed at you with mossy eyes, and you noticed in that moment how odd and pretty it was that they were simultaneously green and blue. You were lost, and scarcely caught his whispered response. “I want to marry you.” It took a few moments before you realized what he said. “Laurie…” you sat up, almost frozen in shock. “(y/n),” he reached down and held one of your hands in both of his. “I can’t imagine a world, a life without you in it. I can’t love anyone else, it’s only you.” He started to look worried as you just sat there, mind curiously blank. You loved him, you loved him so much. This was a dream you didn’t realize you had. You’d been so focused on being with him and loving him now that you hadn’t found the time to imagine it lasting forever. All of a sudden the realization hit you that this was everything you could ever want and then immediately after it was yours. It was one moment, one instant containing an entire tidal wave of emotion, of yearning and dreaming and loving and requiting that astounded you, dumbfounded you, and left you utterly speechless. Laurie waited, as patiently as he could, but something in him was falling apart. “You want to marry me?” He nodded anxiously. “Of course, Laurie.” He let out a breath of relief and rushed to kiss you. It was wonderful, passionate, and half-desperate and you kissed back like your life depended on it. “Was that the surprise?” you whispered a moment later. “Yes,” he laughed, “and the ring, too.” Your brain kinda broke again for a moment there, but it was alright. Everything was alright, more than alright. Everything was perfect.     Later, as you came downstairs with a smile on your face and a ring on your finger, Beth, who was sitting at the piano, began to play Here Comes the Bride. You blushed, “Beth, stop that!” Without a moment’s hesitation, she began to play Pachabel’s Canon. You decided to ignore her and sat down on the couch, Laurie beside you. “Is Amy back yet?” you asked. She had left early to spend part of the day with some posh friends that were having a garden brunch. “The carriage arrived a few moments ago, Jo went to greet her.” “Oh no…” you realized what that meant as the front door burst open and Amy ran into the room, a flutter of pale blue fabric and ribbons. “YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?!” Now Amy had changed a lot in the past few years, shedding her childhood boisterousness and replacing it with the serene calm of a sophisticated society lady. But this, of course, was Amy as you had always known her. “Yes?” you managed before she noticed Laurie sitting next to you. “And you! How could you??” Laurie was obviously confused “What?” “Did you not think to tell me?? Did you think I wouldn’t want to be here?” “Oh, you’re excited,” you realized. It wasn’t always obvious with her. “Of course I’m excited!”  

--

    The sky darkened and filled with stars as the long and joyous day began to die down. Music was still playing, but with tired feet and tired minds, there was now less dancing and more quiet celebrations in talking and enjoying each other’s company. You stood in front of Laurie, with your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, watching your friends and family all together. You couldn’t imagine being happier.

--

Taglist

@sadhwstudent @ihaveaproblem98 @isletsoflou-gerhans  @minninugget

[7-wonders]

And God Made Eve to Bear the Curse

Summary: Michael wants one thing, and one thing only--to drink from the oasis between your thighs.

Word Count: 1428

A/N: This is some filthy vampire Michael period smut. I’m so sorry, but I asked and nobody said that they wouldn’t be okay with it, so here it is. I’m not going to be tagging anyone due to the subject matter, so reblogs would be very appreciated. Thanks! Also if anyone knows where the title of this comes from I will be extremely impressed, as it’s kind of obscure.

(TW for blood, periods, vampires, oral (female receiving), smut)

All evening, Michael had been visibly strained. You hadn’t noticed, the research paper for an important grant you’re applying taking up all of your attention. The most attention he had gotten from you was a smile when you had appeared in his lush penthouse (the Batcave, you often referred to it as). To you, nothing was out of the ordinary. An odd, clingy vampire was a part of your daily routine by now. Michael, however, is convinced that this must be a punishment from God himself for being the Antichrist.

It’s been so long since Michael’s taken a long-term lover that he’s forgotten about a lot of idiosyncrasies of the human race. While Michael once thought that there was nothing more enticing than the scent of the blood flowing through your veins, the temptation you’re unknowingly teasing him with easily overshadows what pumps just below your skin. 

Michael could smell you. Michael could always smell you, of course, but this was completely different. This is the ichor that has driven many vampires mad, the gift that mortal women regard as a curse. The near-fatal mixture of blood and arousal almost drove Michael to his knees when he first smelled you tonight, the first time he had been lucky enough to play witness to your monthly bleed. The deep breaths that he takes in an attempt to ground himself do nothing but flood his entire body with your hypnotic scent, the conversation he tries to distract himself with drowned out by the thumping of your heart as it works overtime.

You’re a temptress, your heartbeat a siren’s call that threatens to drown Michael should he succumb to its’ crooning. The worst part is that you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, sitting entirely unaware on the couch as Michael fights himself to keep from losing control. Michael’s never been tortured, but he has to imagine that it would feel much the same as he does now. He’s resorted to biting his bottom lip, seeing how fast varying degrees of cuts made by his fang will heal. Michael is unable to keep his eyes off of your body, forlornly thinking about all that he would do to you if only you would realize that he’s most likely dying right next to you (an exaggeration, but that’s pretty indicative of vampires).

He’s snapped out of his self-pitying thoughts by the sudden lack of typing sounds filling the room. You shut your laptop, smiling at Michael when you notice him staring at you. Placing the computer on the expensive coffee table, you stretch your arms with a small moan and a flash of skin from your shirt riding up. A pained groan is trapped in the back of Michael’s throat, thankfully too quiet for your ears to pick up. The sudden movement of your limbs sends a fresh wave of your scent in Michael’s direction. While he tries to ignore it, clenching his eyes shut and reciting poems in Latin, his base instincts take over.

You let out a breathless shriek when Michael’s suddenly on top of you in a matter of milliseconds. His golden locks create a curtain around you, eyes flashing a deep burgundy while the familiar black veins track down his face. While this reveal of Michael’s vampiric nature scared you the first time you saw it happen, now it only serves to excite you. His hands forcefully hold your thighs apart, his silver ring digging into the soft skin on the back of your leg.

“Michael, what--” you fall silent when moves down towards your core, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply.

“You did not think to tell me that you were bringing a treat along with you today?” His voice is deep, fangs prominent as he looks up at you.

“I don’t know what…” A twinge of pain in your lower abdomen has you squirming uncomfortably before remembering why you’re experiencing said twinge. “Oh, yeah. That.”

It’s not as if you deliberately forgot that you were walking into the home of your vampire lover while being on your period. In fact, you can guarantee that you would not have accepted his invitation if you had remembered. After a busy day, however, it slipped your mind that vampires and periods don’t mix. Your mistake, and it’s truly a mistake. If you had thought that Michael had looked ravenous the first time you found yourself in this position, he looks absolutely feral right now. He’s nearly shaking from the exertion of trying to hold himself back from tearing your clothes to shreds and taking what’s his.

“I have never met an enchantress quite like you, (Y/N). You have complete control over me; I am a mere slave when in your presence, and you aren’t even aware of it.” Michael rolls his hips against yours, a gasp escaping your lips. He moans loudly, eyes fluttering in ecstasy as he smells you again. “Let me taste you?”

“Wait, you want to eat me out?” Now? You push yourself up on your forearms, staring at Michael apprehensively. The thought of Michael between your thighs, covered in your blood, is tempting, and it’s not as if you’re not incessantly needy when you’re on your period, but that’s still a level of intimacy that you’re not sure you would let anyone see. It’s not as if you feel sexy during this time of the month, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint him if you were to give in.

“Yes,” Michael says in exasperation. “I want to drink from between your thighs. You know I am not the type of man to beg, but I will do so if that will convince you.”

His eyes are wide, the red iris nearly completely blown out from lust. You feel yourself clench from the thought of Michael being driven completely mad from lust, the man letting out an anguished whine as he stares up at you. You nod silently, quickly, running a hand through your hair as you try not to overthink what you just agreed to.

“I need to hear you say it,” Michael mutters. “Say it or else I will go no further.”

“Please, Michael,” you whisper.

Michael wastes hardly any time, removing your pants and your underwear in one swift move. You hear a sharp intake of breath from him as he looks at your cunt, dripping with a mixture of blood and arousal. You’re wet for him, wet in a way he’s never seen you before. He buries his face against your pussy, licking and sucking like he’s starving. The moment that your blood, hot and pulsing, collects on his tongue, his eyes roll back into his head.

“Oh!” you exclaim, throwing your head back as you grip at his golden locks. “Don’t stop, Michael!”

His hands grip your thighs impossibly tight, and you jolt when his fang nicks your sensitive folds (purposefully, you believe). If Michael looks this ruined just from tasting you, you can’t imagine how far gone you must look to be. You’re writhing underneath him, the pleasure derived from his ministrations against your already-sensitive cunt nearly too much to handle. You nearly cum when he makes eye contact with you, those animalistic eyes causing your heart to drop into your stomach. Michael’s throbbing, rutting his hips against the couch for any sort of friction as he continues to devour you. His tongue finds purchase inside your pussy, collecting every single drop of blood available to him.

“Mi-Mi-Michael!” you call out, smacking a hand against the edge of the couch while your toes curl and your thighs shake. 

Even if Michael weren’t acutely familiar with every part of your body, he would still be able to tell that you’re about to cum. One long, hard suck against your clit has your vision blurring and your chest heaving, waves of pleasure crashing into you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm with his mouth. Your orgasm triggers another rush of arousal and blood into his mouth, and he moans delightedly.

Michael finally seems satisfied, coming up from between your legs and watching as your chest heaves and you try to catch your breath again. You stare at him with your mouth agape, the sight of him disheveled and with blood (your blood) all over his face enough to have you considering round two. Michael smirks at your expression, licking his full lips and wiping at his face to try and collect anything he’s missed.

“Care for a taste?” Michael says, flashing his bloody fangs at you.

[mytwilightimagines13]

Size doesn’t matter, buddy (Felix Volturi) part 11 (Final Part)

word count: 2341

And then Alice stepped away from you, forward toward Aro. The three of you turned to watch her. Her hand was raised like his. She didn't say anything, and Aro waved off his anxious guard as they moved to block her approach. Aro met her halfway, and took her hand with an eager, acquisitive glint in his eyes. He bent his head over their touching hands, his eyes closing as he concentrated. Alice was motionless, her face blank. You heard Edward's teeth snap together. No one moved. Aro seemed frozen over Alice's hand. The seconds passed and you grew more and more stressed, wondering how much time would pass before it was too much time. Before it meant something was wrong, more wrong than it already was. Another agonizing moment passed, and then Aro's voice broke the silence. "Ha, ha, ha," he laughed, his head still bent forward. He looked up slowly, his eyes bright with excitement. "That was fascinating!" Alice smiled dryly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." "To see the things you've seen especially the ones that haven't happened yet!" He shook his head in wonder. "But that will," she reminded him, voice calm. "Yes, yes, it's quite determined. Certainly there's no problem." Caius looked bitterly disappointed a feeling he seemed to share with Felix and Jane. "Aro," Caius complained. "Dear Caius," Aro smiled. "Do not fret. Think of the possibilities! They do not join us today, but we can always hope for the future. Imagine the joy young Alice alone would bring to our little household! Besides, I'm so terribly curious to see how Bella turns out!" Aro seemed convinced. Did he not realize how subjective Alice's visions were? That she could make up her mind to transform Bella today, and then change it tomorrow? A million tiny decisions, her decisions and so many others', too Edward's could alter her path, and with that, the future. "Then we are free to go now?" Edward asked in an even voice. "Yes, yes," Aro said pleasantly, signalling for Felix to let him go. Felix frowned before letting him go, moving quickly towards you again, taking the position from Alec holding your arm in his hand. "But please visit again. It's been absolutely enthralling!" "And we will visit you as well," Caius promised, his eyes suddenly half-closed like the heavy-lidded gaze of a lizard. "To be sure that you follow through on your side. Where I you, I would not delay too long. We do not offer second chances." Edward's jaw clenched tight, but he nodded once. Caius smirked and drifted back to where Marcus still sat, unmoving and uninterested. Felix groaned. "Ah, Felix." Aro smiled, amused. "Heidi will be here at any moment. Patience." "Hmm." Edward's voice had a new edge to it. "In that case, perhaps we'd better leave sooner rather than later." Felix’s grip tightened a little on your arm. "Yes," Aro agreed. "That's a good idea. Accidents do happen. Please wait below until after dark, though, if you don't mind." "Of course," Edward agreed. You groaned softly. You wanted to go home and forget this day. Even though that was impossible with a mind like yours. "And here," Aro added, motioning to Felix with one finger. Felix came forward at once, letting go of your arm, and Aro unfastened the gray cloak the huge vampire wore, pulling from his shoulders. He tossed it to Edward. "Take this. You're a little conspicuous." Edward put the long cloak on, leaving the hood down. Aro sighed. "It suits you." Edward chuckled, but broke off suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. "Thank you, Aro. We'll wait below." "Goodbye, young friends," Aro said, his eyes bright as he stared in the same direction. "Let's go," Edward said, urgent now. Demetri gestured that you should follow, and then set off the way you'd come in, the only exit by the look of things. Edward pulled Bella swiftly along beside him. Alice was close by her other side, her face hard. You walked behind them once again, not turning back as you could feel Felix’s eyes burn on the back of your head. Soon you heard multiple heartbeats and cursed softly. "Not fast enough," you muttered. Bella stared up at you, frightened. Soon the sound of babbling voices could be heard, loud, rough voices coming from the antechamber. "Well this is unusual," a man's coarse voice boomed. "So medieval," an unpleasantly shrill, female voice gushed back. A large crowd was coming through the little door, filling the smaller stone chamber. Demetri motioned for you to make room. The four of you pressed back against the cold wall to let them pass. The couple in front, Americans from the sound of them, glanced around themselves with appraising eyes. "Welcome, guests! Welcome to Volterra!" you could hear Aro sing from the big turret room. The rest of them, maybe forty or more, filed in after the couple. Some studied the setting like tourists. A few even snapped pictures. Others looked confused, as if the story that had led them to this room was not making sense anymore. You noticed one small, dark woman in particular. Around her neck was a rosary, and she gripped the cross tightly in one hand. She walked more slowly than the others, touching someone now and then and asking a question in an unfamiliar language. No one seemed to understand her, and her voice grew more panicked. Edward pulled Bella’s face against his chest, but it was too late. It was clear that she already understood. As soon as the smallest break appeared, Edward pushed her quickly toward the door. The ornate golden hallway was quiet, empty except for one gorgeous, statuesque woman. She stared at your group curiously, Bella in particular. "Welcome home, Heidi," Demetri greeted her from behind you. Heidi smiled absently. She reminded you of Rosalie, though they looked nothing alike, it was just that her beauty, too, was exceptional, unforgettable. You couldn't seem to look away. She was dressed to emphasize that beauty. Her amazingly long legs, darkened with tights, were exposed by the shortest of miniskirts. Her top was long-sleeved and high-necked, but extremely close-fitting, and constructed of red vinyl. Her long mahogany hair was lustrous, and her eyes were the strangest shade of violet, a colour that was the result from blue-tinted contacts over red irises. "Demetri," she responded in a silky voice, her eyes flickering between Bella’s face and Edward's gray cloak. "Nice fishing," Demetri complimented her. Ah, she was both the fisherman as well as the bait. "Thanks." She flashed a stunning smile. "Aren't you coming?" "In a minute. Save a few for me." Heidi nodded and ducked through the door with one last curious look at Bella. Edward set a pace that had Bella running to keep up. But you still couldn't get through the ornate door at the end of the hallway before the screaming started. The smell of human blood filled your nose and you quickly held your breath, your eyes turning black from the mere thought alone of that delicious ambrosia in your mouth, running down your throat and relieving the burning that never seemed to fully cease.     Demetri left your group in the cheerfully opulent reception area, where the woman Gianna was still at her post behind the polished counter. Bright, harmless music tinkled from hidden speakers. "Do not leave until dark," he warned us. Edward nodded, and Demetri hurried away. Gianna did not seem at all surprised by the exchange, though she did eye Edward's borrowed cloak with shrewd speculation. "Are you all right?" Edward asked under his breath, too low for the human woman to hear. His voice was rough, still stressed by your situation. You knew your brother wouldn’t relax until the group would leave the country. "You'd better make her sit before she falls," Alice said, mentioning the shaking motion Bella was making at the moment. "She's going to pieces." Sobs were breaking from her chest in almost unnatural ways. "Shh, Bella, shh," Edward said as he pulled her to the sofa farthest away from the curious human at the desk. "I think she's having hysterics. Maybe you should slap her," You suggested. Edward threw a frantic glance at you. "It's all right, you're safe, it's all right," he chanted again and again. He pulled her onto his lap and tucked the thick wool cloak around her, protecting her from his cold skin. "All those people," she sobbed. "I know," he whispered. "It's so horrible." "Yes, it is. I wish you hadn't had to see that." she rested her head against his cold chest, using the thick cloak to wipe her eyes. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. "Is there anything I can get you?" a voice asked politely. It was Gianna, leaning over Edward's shoulder with a look that was both concerned and yet still professional and detached at the same time. It didn't seem to bother her that her face was inches from a hostile vampire. She was either totally oblivious, or very good at her job. "No," Edward answered coldly. She nodded, smiled at Bella, and then disappeared. "Does she know what's going on here?" Bella demanded as soon as the human was out of ears reach, her voice low and hoarse. "Yes. She knows everything," Edward told her. "Does she know they're going to kill her someday?" "She's knows it's a possibility," he said. That clearly surprised her. Edward's face was hard to read. "She's hoping they'll decide to keep her.” "She wants to be one of them?" He nodded once, his eyes sharp on Bella’s face, watching her reaction. Bella shuddered. "How can she want that?" she whispered, more to herself than really looking for an answer. "How can she watch those people file through to that hideous room and want to be a part of that?" Edward didn't answer. His expression twisted in response to something she'd said. "Oh, Edward," she cried, and she was sobbing again. Must be the stress. Humans are such weak beings after all. Things like this easily scares them. "What's wrong?" he asked, still anxious, rubbing her back with gentle pats, while glaring at you. Bella wrapped her arms around his neck. "Is it really sick for me to be happy right now?" she asked. 

You grew tired of this scene playing in front of you and you decided to walk down the hallway a bit, away from the reunited couple, but still close enough to protect them if necessary. The screams in the throne room had ceased and it was eerily quiet now. You sighed softly and looked at a painting hanging on the wall, thinking about what had occurred inside there with Felix. You heard him coming of course, yet you let him drag you into a different, empty hallway. Felix pushed you against a wall gently, blocking your path with his body, towering over you. You looked up at him, his burgundy eyes now ruby red from just feeding. “Nice fighting inside there, tesoro. I did not expect it from someone your size.” He said as he toyed with a string of your hair. You smirked softly. “Size doesn’t matter, buddy.” Was all you said, earning you a chuckle. “Believe me, it does.” He said before his face turned serious. “I want to see you again. May I? Per favore?” He whispered almost, looking into your eyes, which where slowly turning black from not feeding in a while. You bit your lip, unsure if seeing Felix would endanger your family. Felix saw the doubt in your eyes and gently cupped your cheek in his hand, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, freeing it from your teeth. “I’m not sure…” You said trailing off. “Let me convince you then.” He said as he gently placed his lips on yours again. The kiss was slow, yet the taste of human blood lingered on his lips. You groaned softly at the taste of him and the blood. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. Soon your tongues where dancing around each other, and it took all of your self-control to pull away. “Per favore, amore mio?” He whispered against your lips. A small smirk played around your lips. “I would love that, Felix.” You purred his name, making him shiver in delight. "What was all that talk about singers?" You heard Alice ask as you walked back towards your family, your mind still slightly clouded from Felix’s scent. "La tua cantante," Edward said. His voice made the words into music. "Yes, that," Alice said. "They have a name for someone who smells the way Bella does to me. They call her my singer, because her blood sings for me." Alice laughed. After a while of talking you heard the light footsteps of what you assumed was Alec coming your way. Edward's arms tightened around Bella, and the three, he, Alice and you looked to the back of the room with wary eyes. Bella cringed into Edward's chest as Alec his eyes now a vivid ruby, but still spotless in his light gray suit despite the afternoon meal walked through the double doors. It was good news. "You're free to leave now," Alec told you, his tone so warm you'd think we were all lifelong friends. "We ask that you don't linger in the city." Edward made no answering pretence; his voice was ice cold. "That won't be a problem." Alec smiled, nodded, and disappeared again. "Follow the right hallway around the corner to the first set of elevators," Gianna told you as Edward helped Bella to her feet. "The lobby is two floors down, and exits to the street. Goodbye, now," she added pleasantly. Alice shot her a dark look. “Let’s just go home please.” You said as you started walking away from the castle and the man whom slowly took a grip on your heart.

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (15/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : No particular warning.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 15/? (2998 words)

Author’s notes : This chapter is under Leah’s point of view ! There will be a few of them from time to time, as I’d like to explore her vision of the events too, but don’t worry, Drac and Eris will be back soon ;)

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I woke up in a cold sweat. Like right after a nightmare, although I couldn't remember anything from my sleep. Hair splayed over her pillow, Eris was still fast asleep. She looked so peaceful, her chest rising softly with every breath. Seeing her so calm almost allowed me to put my mind at ease with the whole situation. She was very far from being an idiot, or careless. If she didn't seem concerned with the man, maybe I could, or should, trust her judgement. She was rarely wrong in her instincts about people. Especially in that situation, I could hardly see her blindly give her trust to someone so dangerous.

Holding back a loud sigh, I checked my phone. It was barely 6am. The dark outside was still bathing the room in a blue haze, the imminent sunrise only betrayed by a faint blush over the horizon.

Knowing there was no way I'd fall asleep again, I jumped down from the bed, leaving Eris to finish her night. As always after a rough sleep, I was dying of thirst. Trying to make as little noise as I could, not to wake my friend or attract any fiend, I slipped out of the room, and made my way back to the living room.

There, an opening in the wall I already had noticed gave onto a dining room, and I figured I would be able to find the kitchen from there. As I crossed the door, I was surprised to see a modern, fully equipped one. I mean, for someone who didn't cook, that was almost suspicious. Shrugging it off for now, I found a glass in a cupboard, and went to the sink to get my nice, refreshing-

“Thought I heard something.”

I jumped, and dropped the glass, which shattered at the bottom of the sink. Quickly turning over, I noticed the tall silhouette leaning on the frame of the door. Letting out a long sigh, I waited a few moments to let my heartbeat to go back to normal. Of course she stayed. Her long, silvery hair was tied in a loose braid, softly swaying in her back. She traded her Renaissance outfit for something more, well, modern, so to speak.

“I didn't think I could scare you like this, please accept my apologies.”

Her tone was sincere, but a twinkle in her eyes, and the smirk settling on her lips told me otherwise. I discreetly glanced around for a weapon of some sort, if it came to that.

“Oh, don't worry, I've already eaten, I'm not here for that”, she laughed.

“Do tell, please. The suspense is killing me.”

That's right, dumbass, be sarcastic with the murder machine, see if that works out. She stepped towards me, and set her elbows on the island, leaning in.

“Let's say you got me curious”, she mused, smiling, her eyes narrowing like a content cat. “Not a lot of people would have dared threaten Drac like that. Fewer have done so and lived to tell the tale, actually.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “Lucky me.”

“Or, more likely, he's not the man he once was”, she retorted, wincing.

More than disdain, a twitch in her eyebrows betrayed worry.

“I am worried”, she told me, as if she'd read my mind. “If we are facing the threat I believe we are, we should need Dracula The Impaler, not Vlad The Tired Grandpa”, she sighed.

Nothing about Vlad screamed “grandpa” to me, but then again, I wasn't that savvy on vampiric standards of fitness.

“Why are you telling me this ?”, I asked, starting to feel a bit curious too.

“Because”, she began, standing back up, “I need your help. I've gathered that you broke into MINA's servers once before, is that correct ?”

Ah, that. I confirmed, nodding.

“Well, every murder I used to attribute to Vlad in the region is immediately classified, and brought to them. If I should hope to find their trail, I need access to those files, or at least, a crime scene.”

She sounded frustrated. Being what she was, I could understand why she'd be a bit reluctant to go find her informations in a vampire hunter den.

“So you need me to find that information, then”, I suggested, crossing my arms over my chest.

She confirmed. I didn't give any answer, and turned to the sink, decidedly picking up the shards of glass, placing them on the counter. I suddenly felt Carmilla's presence close behind me.

“No, let me, you'll cut yourself-”, she softly told me.

Obviously, my finger slipped on the sharp edge, which easily sliced through the skin. Red started pearling at the cut, and I could only let a small “fuck” escape my lips. I froze for a second, maybe waiting for Carmilla's reaction as I felt her breath on the nape or my neck. I barely felt her hands grazing over my shoulders, one taking the glass from me, the other one wrapping around my hand, and bringing it up. Completely stunned, I didn't react as her tongue slowly ran up my finger, catching the drop of blood before it could run further down. She took her time, and as soon as she passed along the wound, a jolt of electricity ran through my body. For a second, I felt my knees give out, but she had me secured, her arm firmly around my waist. As suddenly as she started, she released my hand, and I was surprised to find only a fine white line where my finger was open before. I turned back towards her, and must have looked as confused as I felt, as she started grinning. Her smile revealed two sets of fangs, poking from underneath her upper lip, slowly retracting. For a second, I could have sworn her icy blue eyes were entirely red, but in a blink, they were back to normal.

“Vampire saliva has enhanced healing properties”, she explained. “Otherwise, we'd bleed people out every time we'd like a drink.”

“I just assumed you did”, I replied, feeling out the barely noticeable scar. She had a crystalline laughter.

“Can you imagine ? Humanity would already be extinct, if that were the case. Turns out you don't need much of our help on that.”

“How much blood do you need to be sated, then ?”, I asked, my curiosity taking the lead over my apprehension of the answer.

I couldn't believe I was actually asking those questions. Before she miraculously healed my cut, I still could have believed this was some very advanced role-play situation. There she was, leaning back on the island, lips slightly parted, a low, purring sound faintly coming from deep inside her throat. Those perfectly shaped lips, a perfect golden pink, darker than her skin, tainted on the corner by a drop of red. Her tongue darted out to clean it. I wondered if the feeling would be the same if I kissed her... Fuck, focus ! Focus !

“Let's make a deal, shall we ? You help me with my problem, and I'll tell you everything you wanna know about vampires. Sounds like a fair bargain, doesn't it ?”

I pretended to consider it a second. She played along, even though I knew I usually did a terrible job at hiding my excitement. Don't get me wrong, I was still mostly terrified, but how often do you get to do a study on actual immortal beings ? Were they actually immortal ? Could they eat anything other than blood ? Now that I thought about it, I never saw Vlad eat or drink something, ever. Huh, that should have been a red flag. I held out my hand, and she shook it in a falsely formal way. That had us laughing after a second. God, she had such a pretty laugh.

“Well, you sure changed your mind fast.”

Eris stepped into the room, and sat up on the counter. Her tousled hair was cascading onto her shoulders, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. I suddenly was very aware of the way Carmilla's thumbs slowly brushed over my hands as she held them. I could feel my face go red. Ah, a taste of my own medicine.

“Leah was telling me how she'd help with my investigation”, Carmilla told my friend.

“Really ?”, she sounded genuinely surprised. “How ?”

“I'm hacking into MINA again”, I told her. “I know what to expect now, and Carmilla says it's the best way to get an edge on the bad guy.”

“The Elder”, Carmilla precised, a dark shade over her bright eyes.

Eris nodded softly, her face suddenly drained of all colors. She fidgeted with the belt cord of her pajama pants, doing and undoing the knots at the end. I couldn't believe those assholes at MINA actually showed her pictures. Couldn't imagine what that must have been like... Not pretty, I assumed. I shuddered at the thought that I might have to deal with those in the very near future.

“I'll go find Vlad, we still need to find a way to ensure safety to you both”, Carmilla told us.

She let go of my hands, giving them a squeeze before she left, the click of her heels  fading in the halls. Still perched on the counter, Eris was intently looking at me, and she opened her mouth as to say something.

“Don't ! I'm warning you !”, I interrupted her.

She laughed. “Come on, I'm allowed to point out the irony.”

“There is nothing there to point at.”

“Sure, right. You look thirstier than her, honey.”

I let out a long groan, but couldn't help but smile. I mean, yeah, sure, Carmilla was the most mesmerizing, beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life, but did that have to mean I had any feelings for her ? No. I mean, one can appreciate beauty without necessarily falling in love. Iwas fine. I didn't have the time to further defend myself, however, as Carmilla soon came back, in the middle of an agitated conversation with Vlad, in something I assumed had to be a very accented Romanian. I had heard Eris speak it often enough, but hers had to be much more academic than theirs.

“Is everything okay ?”, Eris asked.

“Fine. I was telling Carmilla how the best solution would be that you both stayed here, where it's safe”, Vlad replied, insisting on the last word.

He somehow looked tired, his complexion almost chalky, eyebrows furrowed in a worried expression.

“And I was telling Vlad we can't let the Elder know we're onto him”, Carmilla insisted.

Vlad cursed under his breath, but Eris interrupted.

“Vlad, I can't stay here”, she told him in a soft, but firm tone. “I have classes, I can't just ditch my students like that. I have a cat that's probably tearing my flat apart because I didn't feed him last night, I can't go on a holiday unprompted !”

“Do you understand the gravity of the situation ? I won't have you end up the main attraction of a Penny Dreadful !”

“First of all, no one talks like that. Second, you gave me a vampire-killing gun for that exact purpose.” She hopped down from the counter, and took a look at me. “I don't know about Leah, but you are taking me back to my place as soon as I'm dressed.”

She took his hand in both hers. They looked so tiny next to his. “I'll be fine”, she almost only mouthed, looking at him, and smiling. He took a moment, then his shoulders dropped in defeat, and he sighed. “Fine”. Who wouldn't have melted at her face, and her little smile ? God, she had him wrapped around her little finger, didn't she ?

She proposed we both got dressed, and I realized I was still only wearing a flannel shirt, mercifully dropping past my mid-thigh. Eris placed a little kiss on Vlad's hand, and I followed her out. She almost gave the impression that she floated more than she walked, a dreamy smile plastered on her lips. As soon as we stepped into her room, I closed the door behind us.

“Alright, something happened”, I accused her. “What happened ?”

She took an innocent expression, but the pink on her cheeks fooled exactly no one. I pressed her, to which she still denied knowing whatever I was referring to. I leapt to her, making the both of us fall onto the bed. I pinned her down, and he pretended to struggle, which had the both of us laughing like schoolgirls. She finally took a deep breath.

“We kissed”, she admitted, avoiding my gaze.

“That's it ? One kiss ? Are you twelve ?!”

I was absolutely outraged. I mean, she had made me used to way better in terms of sentimental gossip. To say the least, she didn't have the most stable, or calm relationships, and I always loved to hear the sordid details. And now, she was blushing like a little girl because of a kiss. I mean, you would have thought a crush on an actual vampire called for a little bit more action, damn. She reached over her head for a pillow, and bashed me over the head with it.

“Oh, shut up !”, she protested. “It's been a long time, alright ?”

“Come on, you broke up with Sonja like two months ago”, I sighed.

“Three and a half”, she clarified, sitting back up.

Ah, leave it to me to bring up an ex and ruin the mood. They dated what, three years, before they started to “drift apart”. I always thought they were great together, and I felt like their break-up made me cry more than the two of them combined. They actually had to comfort me. They tried remaining friends for a while. That's when she started her burn-out, and decided to fuck off to Romania for a week. I never was one to question her process, so me and Sonja stayed out of it and only helped her plan the trip. Turns out, maybe we should have sent her the weather predictions for that week, huh ? As she was already gone, Sonja found a contract in the south of the country, only to come back in the beginning of summer. I figured that might leave Eris the time to heal. And I thought, as she still seemed pretty down after she came back, that the handsome mysterious stranger could help with that. Had I known he tried murdering her a week prior, I would probably have reconsidered.

We both got dressed, changing the subject to her next classes. She barely prepared them, given all that had been on her mind of late. She already had the dreaded meeting with Stephan Helder-Van-Helsing and Laurent, and the latter had agreed to tutor him on his master's degree, enrolling Eris as a secondary tutor. The kid was eager, and she was sure to get an email from him every couple of days, asking for her advice on his research, or sometimes, sending her articles he thought she'd like. She pretended to be annoyed, but I knew she found it somewhat endearing.

As soon as she was ready, she insisted on leaving fast, leaving me alone with Carmilla. I suspected this was some sort of revenge for my plotting at the faire, as she stepped out with a mischievous smile, and a wink. I gave her the finger, and she blew me a kiss. As I closed the front door, Carmilla came into the hall, holding a soviet Union looking industrial computer, and handed it to me. The bitch had to weigh ten pounds.

“Let's not lose any more time. We should get to work.”

“I can't work on this, Carmilla”, I told her with an apologetic smile. “I need my tools. I mean, they caught me once because I was careless. If they even notice someone is trying to hack them again, I'll be their number one suspect.”

She looked disappointed. “Well, what do you need ?”

“I have everything at home. Plus, it's always better to hide in a crowd, the city will be better.”

She nodded along, and clapped her hands together. “Let's go, then.”

“Vlad took the car, didn't he ?”, I enquired as we went outside.

She shook a set of keys between her fingers. “I went for a snack last night, and brought back mine”, she told me, and pointed at a blue pick-up.

It was parked sideways, and the tires had left deep marks in the white gravel. An old Chevrolet pickup, the paint chipping away to show a little rust, but overall, pretty well maintained.

“That's not what I expected”, I told her as I settled on the leather seats.

“Listen, Vlad likes his cars expensive and shiny, I like mine reliable.” she gave a affectionate slap on the dashboard. “I've had her for more than fifty years, and she's never let me down.”

Her comment made me wonder how old she actually was. I mean, Vlad was a few centuries old, and they seemed to know each other pretty well. She probably turned younger than him, as she didn't look more than thirty-five or so. She slipped on a pair of driving leather gloves, and started the car. The engine roared nicely, and I barely had the time to put in my seat-belt before she rushed off into the road. Instinctively grabbing the handle on the roof, I protested.

“Hey, only one of us is invulnerable in here !”

She assured me she never had an accident, which I seriously doubted. I was coming to regret Vlad's smooth driving, compared to speed maniac cackling next to me. She turned on the cassette player, catching the middle of Mr. Blue Sky. She started singing along, and I joined her, laughing as the sun finished to burn up the sky.

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy @lost-girl-inc

[sorrytae]

first touch

↠ pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x reader (female)

↠ genre: fluff, fluff & fluff

↠ word count: 2.3k

summary: the first kiss with jungkook,, simple as that

a/n: they moved away not too long ago and we don’t really now how the golden closet looks like now, but just imagine that he still has a bed at the corner of his room

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It was very warm the moment you woke up, covered in blankets and his scent. The only light appearing from the sign that spelled “golden closet” and the computer that you could make out was on. And just a few inches away he was sitting, his eyes focused on the screen.

You moved your head up to glance at the digital clock on his nightstand; the digits 3:16 in bright green colors.

“jungkook, why are you still awake?”

he seemed surprised to hear your soft voice when he turned his head to you, clearly not expecting you to wake up at this late hour. he looked so beautiful yet so tired, tired eyes slightly visible from the little light that the display provided. Though his smile was evident the moment he set his eyes on your tired frame.

“I still want to finish this piece. Go back to sleep, I’ll come once I’m finished.” he informed while his head already turned to his screen again; too soon.

jungkook works hard. In fact, he was one of the most hardworking persons you probably ever met. And after being able to be on his side for a period of time, you could really see with your own eyes how dedicated this man was for his music.

And even though you support him for his aim and his ambition, you could not avoid the frown that followed on your face.

when he didn’t get an answer from you, his eyes soon met yours again, only to see that named frown clear and obvious on your face. Jungkook knows how much you cared about him. And even when you barely talked about it, he noticed how each frown and every look you give him only appears because you’re truly worried.

“You are so tired. Please come to bed.” out of fear your voice was so quiet, you wondered if he was even able to make out the words that left your mouth.

Usually when you said out loud that special request, he would turn you down, obviously not wanting to let go of his activities. So it left you surprised the moment you realized that he stood up and made his way up to you.

You studied him carefully with wide eyes while analyzing each of his steps as he reached closer. he lightly smirked at your astonished expression and lifted up the blankets to slip under them next to you, resting his head on his hand to look down on you. When he noticed that you just kept on staring at him he let out a soft chuckle.

“the reason I give in so quickly is because I know exactly that you would stay up the whole night again like you did last time.” He moved his free arm under your T-shirt to rest it on your stomach. “And I already prepared myself to stop in case you woke up so here I am.”

“thanks for thinking about me.” You said sarcastically but immediately noticed the way your mouth wrinkles turned upwards. He smiled bashfully and you took the moment of silence to study him carefully. There were light eye bags you could perceive from the little lighting that shone behind him. his hair messy yet so soft looking and his t-shirt hugging his body in the right places.

There was a comfortable silence for a while, all that was shared were stares between each other’s eyes making you feel warm yet nervous at the same time. Even though you two have been dating for a while, his presence still made you feel flustered from time to time. Especially when he looked at you like he saw the universe in front of his eyes. He kept on staring silently while rubbing your belly under the blankets till he suddenly frowned at your appearance.

“Did you cut your hair?”

You couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. you did. But Jungkook seemed to never have notice since he hasn’t commented on it when you got them shorter weeks ago. It really made you remind that you don’t see him as often as you would like to. But you also could never complain because you knew that it wouldn’t be any other way. He told you that from the beginning.

“Yeah I did. It’s been a while though.”

“I’m so sorry baby” he apologized, looking legitimately sad. Both of you knew exactly what he was really apologizing for.

“it’s okay, jungkook” you promised yourself you wouldn’t make him feel bad about something he doesn’t have any control of. At the end this is exactly what you knew was coming when dating a public person, loved by millions of fans. That’s also why in the next second you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down to meet your smaller frame. He hold you tight, burying his head in your neck while sniffing in your scent. It always made him calm down in some way.

Not saying any word, he slowly turned his head to the side so he could have more excess to your neck, kissing it tenderly and quietly hummed a melody followed by his honey sweet voice. Your heart swelled up with excitement at the possibility that he could start singing.

“will you stay by my side?’’

You could not only feel but almost hear the beating of your heart speeding up. Closing your eyes, you tried focusing on every single word that came out of his mouth.

“will you promise me?“

You were sure he could hear your heartbeat hence the fact you could make out that he was slightly smiling against your neck. It suddenly felt very warm.

“that If I let go of your hand, you won’t fly away or break’’

Not feeling his presence on your neck anymore you waited a few seconds for him to continue. when you realized that nothing happened you opened your eyes in a slow pace only to be met by another pair looking right into yours from above. Your breath hitched for a second.

“I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared“

it was only a mere whisper and you couldn’t do much but simply stare at him. He looked so breathtaking and it began to be unbearable the second he leant in hesitantly and you almost thought that he was going to put his lips on yours, but ended up feeling his kiss on your cheek.

“is my baby crying?” He grinned lightly and you had to put your fingertips under your eyes to even realize that in fact yes, you felt a single tear falling down.

“Why do you always do this to me?” Every other person who witnessed this scenario in front of their eyes would probably think that this question was related to the issue that Jungkook was barely in your company most of the time. That you can’t help but miss him a lot. And that hearing him singing such a beautiful song with such a beautiful meaning would only make you more upset than happier about it.

But the reasons are that he always made you feel so special. Always wrote songs about you to make you realize and feel loved even when he was away for most of the year. Asking him why- oh why he had such a powerful ability to make you feel such strong emotions by his simple actions. Happiness or Sorrow, when it came to Jungkook each feeling was always intense.

“Do you want me to ignore you from now on?” He chuckled happily and already had his lips back on your neck while wrapping his arms around you tighter. You let out a giggle and kissed him softly on the top of his head.

“No.” You said sternly but your frown was soon replaced by a content smile when he put his hand up slowly only to be met by your exposed chest. He suddenly stopped all of his movements and you could feel how he stiffened visibly.

“Jungkook?“

“oh my god, I’m sorry.’’ He rushed but you already held his head in your palms to make him look into your eyes. “I didn’t know you’re not wearing anything underneath.’’

Even though you’ve been dating for a while, he hasn’t made any move for physical intercouse yet. You tried to not think about it too much, since he always had a shy nature but you couldn’t help but have the desire to feel his touch from time to time.

“Jungkook, you know I’m your girlfriend right? It’s okay.’’

“I do. And sometimes I can’t believe it.’’ Mumbling those words your heart already started picking up again. This fool.

“Then feel comfortable around me, especially with me.”

“I do. I can truly say I do feel more comfortable around you now. I’m not that nervous anymore.” He tried to make a point but you already started pouting again at how cute he was. Deciding to tease him a little bit you moved your hands from his face down to his shoulders, letting your hands meet and intertwine behind his neck, pulling him closer.

“I don’t know if that was a compliment or a bad sign?” You smirked “does that mean you are already in the phase of getting tired of me?“

“What do you mean? How is that even related?” He chuckled

“couples usually always pull up with that shit because it’s getting too boring after a while.’’ You tried to reason but could make out that he was already smiling again.

“Well yeah, then’’ He laughed slightly. “maybe”

You looked up at him making sure to tighten your grip around his neck.

“I’m joking.”

“You better be honey.”

he stopped to look at you again. You really wondered how he didn’t get tired of hovering over you yet. If it was for you, you would already be laying on his chest at this point.

“I’m still nervous when It comes to certain things.”

You couldn’t help the smile that was forming on your face when the next words left his lips.

“I still haven’t kissed you.”

“I know. Don’t worry Jeon. I know that we’re still young and you are a little bit hesitant. I don’t worry about you not liking me enough.” You ran your hand through your hair and grinned. “In fact, you probably think about kissing me a lot.”

“I do.”

He suddenly became so serious, no visible smile on his face anymore. You could feel how he took your hand that was now above your head to guide it on his chest.

Pump. Pump. Pump.

Feeling how he went more shy after seeing how your eyes widened at the fast pace his heart was beating you could figure out that he was about to burry his head in your neck again but before he could do that you held his head once again but this time lowering his head to meet yours.

You could feel how it was getting hotter, his body slowly becoming heavier on top of your own. His eyes were widened so badly, you thought they would fall of for a moment. But when you gave him one last comforting smile before his lips met yours, you could feel how he relaxed visibly. ‘it’s only me’ he chuckled  remembering those words that you told him only a few minutes ago when his heart made unbearable jumps inside of his chest.

Your lips were driving him insane. Never has he felt anything so soft against his own, the electrifying feeling eating him alive yet making him feel so marvelous and he swore he couldn’t handle it anymore the moment he heard you sigh softly against his lips. He moved his hands to wrap one around your back and the other to hold you behind your neck, while yours rested on his chest. Nothing but the quiet kissing noises filling the room.

“J-Jungkook’’

He almost stared to groan at your responsiveness and the whines but got a hold on himself when he felt how he just couldn’t stop kissing you. Even when you tried to push him back lightly to get some air into your lungs, he wouldn’t let you. He just couldn’t stop.

He also didn’t understand what came onto him when he pushed his tongue past your lips the chance he got and you backed away shortly but softened as soon as he tightened his grip around your body.

It felt like hours of kissing, biting and licking when Jungkook finally removed his lips from your own and placed his forehead against yours, looking deeply into your eyes. The heavy panting and grip on his shirt only deepened the heaviness of his heart along with your rosy cheeks and now red lips when he figured that in this moment, he truly felt like he could die in peace. When kissing alone made him feel so good, he could not but be excited about all the other things that he could do with you.

Ruffling his hair he gave you one last kiss and felt how his lips were already feeling numb. Looking at your state he could tell that you felt the same but the smile that still formed on your face made him place his head contently on your chest, feeling how he already grew tired and made himself ready to fall into a slummer of sleep.

“I love you” was all you could make out until he started breathing evenly, signing that he fell asleep.

Turning your head to the nightstand to see what time it was you chuckled at the green digits that flashed the numbers ‚4:48’ on the clock. You smiled to yourself and tightened your grip around his body, closing your eyes and trying to always remember the fact that your first kiss with jungkook was for over one hour.

“I love you more, you fool”

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (2)

Word Count: 7,674 // Angst, SMUT (knife play, blood play), Fluff

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

‘Don’t be nervous, noona,’ he whispered, sliding the tip of the knife down the valley between your breasts, ‘just give in to me.’

Your back arches off the bed, cotton sheets sticking to your perspired skin, riding out your next orgasm. You could hear Jungkook moving but you can’t see him. Although the strip of cloth he used to blindfold you was quite sheer, he practically mummified your eyes until all you can see is black. If the cloth had been tied any tighter he would have surely hurt you but you wanted it that way, begged for it even. You wanted him to hold both your pain and pleasure on the tip of his knife. This was the only way you’ll get rid of Namjoon. You’ll give every piece of yourself to him until there’s nothing left, until you run out of yourself to give.

You struggle to move away from the knife but he had secured all four of your limbs with rope to the bedpost. There was nothing you can do except give in to his torture. He has you cornered and he knew you wanted it that way. You trusted him with your vulnerability.

However, your veins pulsed with fear. Like any human being you crave danger but the possible consequences spurned by your active imagination left your stomach churning. So when you felt the tip of his knife dig in the side of your stomach you struggled, dragging your arms until the ropes are pulled taught. You can feel a bead of blood trickle down the side of your waist followed by a warm wet tongue catching the droplet before it stained the bedsheets. Your wound burned with his saliva.

‘God, you’re so delicious’ you hear Jungkook groan into your honey skin, ‘I wish I can taste you forever.’

A harsh gasp left your mouth at his words. Your legs shook with vicarious satisfaction. You’d never felt love this intense and it terrified and thrilled you. You were not familiar with Jungkook’s way of loving but your body desired it nonetheless. It was the type of intensity that suffocated you, that made you relish in the feeling of being wanted and being owned like an animal. Who knew what went on behind his angelic, child-like face?

‘Kookie,’ you whined, lifting your hips only to have him straddle your thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans pressed against your silky skin. ‘It hurts.’

He lifted his head to look at your face. Your lips were parted, pink lipstick smudged down your jawline, sweat gathering at your temples and head tilted to one side to relieve the strain of being bounded for so long. Jungkook grabbed the film camera next to him and snapped, shuddering as he watched your defenseless state through his lenses. His stomach clenched at the sight, a familiar ache in his groin settling once more. He shrugged it off; tonight is all about you and he was going to make you feel it without him pushing his cock into you. He set the camera down and latched onto the wound with his mouth again, wanting the iron taste to stay longer. He had you weak underneath his tongue and he toyed with you like a piece of candy rolling from one corner of his mouth to another.

‘If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.’ He said, taking the cold knife lying next to the camera and gliding the back of it across your belly. ‘Although something tells me’ he murmured, balancing his weight on one knees and pushing the other knee between your legs, grinding it against your core. ‘you’re enjoying this as much as I am.’ He watched the fabric of his dark blue jeans darken with your wetness.

‘Is this true, noona?’ he asked, his eyes fixed on the wet stain on his knees, his voice sweet as if he was simply asking you how your day was. ‘Do you like me doing this to you?’

Unable to speak, you nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as the knife moved away. That only meant one thing and you got your answer when he made a deeper cut just below your breasts. He drove the knife deep and dragged sluggishly just so you can feel yourself being sliced open for him. You cried out, tears forming beneath your eyelids until you felt the warmth of his tongue again lapping up the wound like a kitten. He did not waste a drop, licking the slit repeatedly until blood no longer appeared. He dragged his tongue up to your nipples and latched onto the hardened bud between his teeth, pulling it slowly and suckling like a baby. Your baby boy, your everything, your Jungkook.

You exhaled a shaky breath, feeling nauseous with pleasure. ‘Lo…ve…’

‘Hn?’ he tilted his head to look up at you, his tongue rolling around your areola. If only you could rip the blindfold away and look at him. Oh how much you wish to see his lips stained red.

‘I love…you.’

You felt his smile on your breast followed by…nothing. Your head tilted from side to side as you strained to hear any kind of movement or rustle of clothing. Did you scare him off? No, that’s impossible. He’s practically sucking you dry, there was no way a simple declaration of love would scare him. Actually, it would spur him on to do something even harsher, stranger, something unpredictable. The thought made your heart leap and you laid on the bed motionless, soaked with your own sweat and cum, your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you prophesied what he was going to do next.

Just when you open your mouth to ask him you feel his hand grasp your cheeks, his groomed nails digging in your skin as he pushed your jaw down to force your mouth open. One heartbeat later you feel liquid trickling in your mouth, your throat clenching around it, your head tilting back from shock as you let out a gurgle. The liquid was slightly warm and thick, almost syrupy. And then you taste it; the iron, the rust, the deep red color staining your uvula.

Your heartbeat slowed, your muscles relaxing as your tongue darted out to lick wherever he cut himself. You feel the flesh of his palm at the tip of your tongue and blood sliding down your tongue at an alarming rate. You couldn’t speak, not with his fingers keeping your mouth agape and your concern for how deep he cut himself was lost in the sea of pleasure. You relaxed against the pillows and drank, relieved when the droplets slowed and he let go of your jaw. You took the chance to lift your head up to his palm and take the side of his palm in your mouth, sucking any remains of blood off him. You feel his free hand slide up to hold your hair, twirling the ends before digging it in your scalp and keeping your head in place. You can feel his eyes burning a hole in your skull.

‘I’m in you now,’ he purred and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel his mouth stretch into a Cheshire grin, his breath warm on your damp skin. He kissed your clavicles. ‘You’re not going a-ny-where.’

You can only moan in response, your voice cracking, delirious with orgasmic pleasure. “Yes…yes…’

The hand in your mouth moved to tug the ends of the blindfold and you sighed as the pressure on your eyes weakened. You squirmed your way out from beneath the cloth and opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust even though the dim golden light came from just a small lamp on your nightstand. Nonetheless, it felt harsh on your eyes that had seen nothing but a velvet void for the past hour and a half. You blinked a few times at the ceiling, blinking away the purple specks in your vision. Once you adjusted you tilted your head down to face your sweet boyfriend staring at you in awe, as if he hadn’t seen anything more beautiful than a girl with blood stains across her lips and smudged eyeliner.

‘Show me your hand,’ you breathe, one corner of your lips tugging upwards. He looked absolutely adorable with his chin resting on your left breast, hair parted and chocolate bangs falling over his scrunched brows, his doe eyes darting up to meet yours.  

He moved his hand so that it was directly in line with your vision and you gasp at the deep gash. It was still bleeding and although the bleeding had slowed, the painful red wound was blurred with streaks of blood. You tilt your head forward and licked his hand from his wrist all the way to the bottom of his index finger where the slit ended. He let out a choked grunt, his eyes darkening, his pants begin to tighten with his erection. He needed to convince you that this was a spiritual experience rather than sexual. Although he’d made you orgasm more times than you can count, he wanted to be completely selfless in this endeavor. He wanted to give until you’re filled with him, until there no space left for any other man.  Your soul belongs to him now; you’ve drank his blood and he’d drank yours, the deal was done and there’s no going back.

‘Kookie that’s going to take too long to heal. Do you…’ you hesitated, ‘get excited by…this?’

He didn’t know how to answer your question so that it pleased you. He didn’t want to be considered as a freak or even worse, psychotic, someone who toyed with life. But he decided to be truthful, knowing that this experience would be tainted if he’d lied. Through evident hesitation, he nodded, his eyes darting down in shame, his cheeks reddening. It was as if he was the one tied to the bed, naked and vulnerable.

‘Oh baby,’ you sighed, melting at how innocent he looked. ‘don’t be ashamed.’ You tugged your wrists as if to embrace him, forgetting for the moment that you’re immobile. ‘I liked it.’ You smiled, dropping your hands beside your head. ‘I liked it very, very much. And,’ you moved your hips against his knee, the provocative gesture making him look up at you through his dark lashes. ‘I like the way you taste. You make me feel so good.’

A growl left his lips and he swooped down to capture your lips with his, tasting each other’s blood when tongue met tongue.

‘I love you so much, noona,’ he whimpered between kisses, pressing his tongue harder in your mouth ‘you’re so beautiful and you’re all,’ he peppered kisses down your jaw and up to the corner of your mouth again, lapping up the blood on your skin, ‘mine. It feels like I’m dreaming. Please tell me you’re all mine, please, I need to hear it.’ The kisses became rougher now, teeth meeting skin, bites leaving bruises. “Tell me. Tell me how I’m the only man who’ll see you like this, who’ll touch you like this, who can taste you like this.”

Dazed with affection you tilt your head away from him, “Nngh, baby, yes…I’m yours, I’m all yours. Ugh…” He palmed your breasts, the rough pads of his bloodied thumbs twirling your nipples until you feel small shocks of heat travel down to your belly. “Use me all you want, baby, please. My big, big, bunny,” you smiled, letting out a throaty moan, your teeth biting down on your lower lip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he pressed two of his digits between your folds, enjoying how weak he’s made you.

So, you thought, in the midst of mind-numbing pleasure, this is Jeon Jungkook’s true face.  

This was the first time you’d given yourself completely, shamelessly, to a man. You didn’t think you can do it to this extent, not even with Namjoon, and especially not after being broken into pieces. But somehow, Jungkook had managed to drag you by your throat into this deep ocean, as painful and as pleasurable it is. It was the sweetest romance you’ve ever had; no boundaries, no inhibitions. Just two bodies and two hearts merged into droplets of blood leaving a fragrant taste of warm iron.

“Fuck!” Jungkook growled as his hips lifted off the bed, pushing his throbbing cock into his fist.

This is the second time in the same hour that he’d masturbated to that night, the night when he made you his. He’d never seen something so sexy in his entire life; you, bounded, helpless, deprived one moment and overwhelmed the next, hair a mess, body streaked with blood, yours and his. His eyes were clenched shut, his teeth gritted as he pounded into his hand, chest heaving in frustration. Sweat trickled down his jaw, the translucent pearls dipping between his pecs.

He let out a sound, a mixture between a sob and a growl. “Noona…” he moved his fist up and down, gripping himself tight enough to compress his veins. “Noona…haahh, nngh, fuuuuck…noona…just a little more, yeah ngh yessss, right there, right there,” Toes curled, eyes squeezed shut, drenched in precum and sweat, he whined for you between moans, loving how the syllables bounced on the tip of his tongue. It felt dirty calling you his ‘big sister’ and he loved it. All he could see behind his eyelids was that image of you, of your ankles rubbed raw with rope, of the taste of you, the salty sweetness between your legs. If only he could live between your legs forever, drinking in your nectar while you lay helpless, fatigued with orgasms, a smile playing on your lips telling him you also hid some things behind that seemingly innocent face of yours. He wanted to do nothing but spit in your mouth and fuck it, stripping away your layers of shame. Just imagining your mouth around him, something he’s never had you do, made his teeth grit painfully. One day, he told himself, one day he’ll have the guts to ask you for it.

With every jerk of his hand his silver watch clicked against his wrist like it was ticking down the seconds.

Four more hours until you’re back from work. Four. Painful. Hours.

When you were gone Jungkook simply did not know what else to do. He released his violent appetite by cumming, draining himself enough to weaken his mind, just so that he can no longer keep track of the time. It was only after he released into his hand and steadied his breathing that he let the loneliness creep back up his spine, luring him back down to hell. Nothing will bring him satisfaction, not work, not the city with its bustling life; only you. He wondered when he became so unbalanced. Was it when he first laid eyes on you and knew he was willing to throw away everything to have you? Or was it before that, when he was born, when he found out things about himself that he hated along the way?

He wondered why he couldn’t have enough of you. All his life he’d been a career person and he found it to be his only solace; he was born working and he’d die working. His article was published yesterday, his gallery the month before was fairly successful and for a change of scenery, to keep his mind away from you, he focused on street photography. Usually he would take on assignments that were conveniently timed so that he could take you along with him. With one glance you became the only source of happiness in his bleak world, the only light in the darkroom that he called his life. Now that he decided to risk his usual creative process for something new, something exciting, he wouldn’t have the luxury to take you with him. The thought made his stomach churn. He didn’t like going out on the streets, especially alone. He found his contentment in your apartment, in this bubble of yours that he had the privilege of entering. Being around people made him nervous and sometimes he hated himself for that, blamed himself for things that were out of his control. Jungkook was born to be alone and that was how he lived; in isolation, in the dark, treading carefully and blending in with the background. He had very little friends and, upon adulthood, he had lost touch with most of them. The only person he’d regularly talk to is his childhood friend, Taehyung, who had recently taken a sabbatical from work. Other than their phone call once every week, he only had you. You, you, you.

That was one reason why he looked up to you. You took care of him when he was the neediest, you took care of him even if he didn’t ask, you asked him what he wanted for dinner unlike his mother, you taught him how to tie his tie unlike his father, and out of all the things you do for him, what he loved the most was how much you let him love you. You were everything to him and he knew, upon seeing you the first time up on that grassy hill, talking to the man you were going to marry at that time, that he wanted you. Even if you had gone through with the wedding, he would have found another way to stay in touch with you. Jungkook was persistent without being pushy, aggressive without being hostile and with such honed survival skills, he was able to win you over. He considered you his biggest achievement, his truest achievement.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t hope for you to rely on him the same way he relied on you. He was overjoyed when it first happened, as rare as they come. Since the wedding night you trusted heavily on his presence to feed your emotional needs, too embarrassed to face your family and friends. It started with a few emails, then it became phone calls that stretched from just mere minutes to entire nights. You’d tell him about anything and he’d listen, and he’d tell you about his art and you’d listen. Then you told him about what happened at the wedding, sparing no details, and he would tell you that you deserve better and shower you with ardency disguised as simple amicable words. It took an entire month of calls for you to agree to see him in public. Jungkook was ecstatic. His patience was gradually paying off. And within the next four months, he had you in his grasp. During that night, when you were in your bedroom with him, with his knife and his camera, he preserved every atom of you in his film reel.

Even now the thought makes him shudder in excitement.

Walking out of the bathroom while wiping his wet hands on his thighs, he waited for your phone call. He gradually moved to the cozy living room, lost in thought. It was already lunch break, so then why weren’t you calling?

He fished out the smartphone from his back pocket and checked again. No messages, voice mails, or calls. He sighed and threw himself on the couch, laying his head on the throw pillow to coddle in your scent that lingered on the white upholstery. He wanted to call you, to hear your sweet voice telling him you’ll be back before he could hang up the phone, but he couldn’t. Rather, he’d deal with the loneliness himself, let it eat him from the inside like a worm pushing its way from one end of a fruit to another. He obviously scared you this morning and looking even needier was not on his agenda. He has to distance himself from you, just for today, so you can breathe a little and chase after him. Yes, that was the plan and the plan always worked when done right. Jungkook learned how to string you along like a dog on a leash because that was what you’ve done to him emotionally. He may be able to physically move you, control your steps, but you had him wrapped around your finger and a simple tug, like you did this morning, would break him easily.  

“Hello?’

Jungkook blinked. Where was your voice coming from? He blinked again, his eyes darting around and then he realized that he was holding his phone against his ear. When did he dial for you? When did his hands move on their own accord?

“Um…ah, n-noona,” he spoke, stuttering as he desperately tried to grasp onto reality. “A-are you still on your lunch break?”

He heard you sigh audibly and he could just imagine you sitting in front of your desk, massaging your temples. “No…no time to eat lunch. My new assistant accidentally deleted some of my files and he hadn’t backed it up like I told him to yesterday so I have to redo it again. I’m sorry, Kookie,” you sighed again, “I’ll probably be late tonight. Don’t bother waiting for me, just eat dinner and get some sleep.”

New assistant? You hadn’t mentioned that to him before. And it’s a ‘he’. Jungkook’s heart began to race. What the fuck happened to Sora? He’d met your previous assistant before and she was much older, approaching late 30s. No threat. But now, there’s a ‘he’ in your life and that ‘he’ was making his hands turn cold and his stomach drop. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He trusts you; he trusts that your eyes won’t stray, that the only person harboring in your heart is him.

Jungkook kept his voice smooth, like you hadn’t just drove a knife into his chest. “Mm, I see. I wish I can do something to help you, noona. Please eat something though or you’ll get dizzy. How late will you be staying at work? It’s too dangerous at night if you’re in the office alone; there’s no security at your workplace either. I can come help you out if you need.”

You smiled. Your boyfriend was so kind, how could you ever stumble upon such an adorable boy after your nightmarish fiancé? “It’s okay,” you chuckled, “Seokjin will be with me so I’m not alone. I’ll probably need to stay two more hours at most.”

He clenched his eyes shut at your voice, your soft, saccharine voice, uttering another man’s name. Why did you have to say his name like that? Like you adored how it sounds on your tongue? Like how he says your name – with love that was borderline fatal.

Don’t ask about him. Don’t ask about him. Don’t ask about him. “Oh, I didn’t know you got a new assistant. What happened to Sora?” You idiot.

You giggled. “Sora got pregnant by accident so she’s on maternal leave right now. Her husband is soexcited that he requested for an extra month off on top of the initial plan. So,” you sighed again, “I’m going to be stuck with Seokjin for six months instead of the usual five. He came from the upper department so I’m in charge of teaching him all the gritty work us plebeians have to do in the office. I’m kind of excited though,” you giggled again, “I get a kick out of bossing those guys around.”

Jungkook tasted blood in his mouth and he clenched his phone tight in his hand, hearing a small creak as the plastic phone cover compressed under his grip. He knows exactly what it feels like to be on the receiving end of your dominant ways. The countless times you had him straddled, teased until he was sobbing and begging, denied of pleasure, vision blackening with how much you ‘get a kick’ out of bossing him around. And now this Seokjin person would be bossed around by you. He’ll get to see your dominant ways, of how your voice drops a near octave when you feign anger, of how your eyes turn steel cold when you feign disappointment. He gets to see it all and he’ll probably have fantasies of you doing that to him in the bedroom. He knows what men think when they see a beautiful, irresistible woman that carries herself well.

Jungkook exhaled, his breath shaky. Thankfully, you didn’t hear it. “Of course you do,” he chuckled although the voice sounded hollow in his ears, “hopefully the poor guy doesn’t run for the hills. Well, I just called to make sure you eat, which I’m telling you that you should. I’ll wait for you then.”

He could hear your smile in your voice and for a moment it warmed his heart.

“Okay, Kookie. I’ll see you tonight.”

His heart bursts each time you called him by his nickname. It was a name created by you just for him and only him. When you called him that each time, it was like you were telling him that you loved him without having to say those three words. Jungkook found it charming. Just when he was about to tell you that he loves you too, a man’s voice appeared, and it paralyzed him. The shadow of his smile disappeared and immediately a ball rose up to his throat. The man sounded young, just like him. After Namjoon, he knows how much your preferences have changed. He could see it in the type of pornography you watched; all the men sounded young, looked young, and fucked like young naughty boys. He prided himself on being your ideal type. That is, until this other man whose voice, velvety and light, competed with his. He could tell that voice belonged to no other than your new assistant, Seokjin.

‘I think I recovered the files! Look! See? I told you I’m not THAT bad with paperwork. Oh…sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone.’

“Okay let me see first before you mess it up again,” you say moving the phone away from your ears. Then you turned your attention back to Jungkook who’d stayed dead silent on the line. “Baby, are you still there?”

“Yes.”

His voice was cold as stone. But you didn’t notice. Of course you didn’t, most of your attention was on Seokjin and his enthusiastic mouse clicking away at your screen. If Jungkook could see you right now he’d surely cry. Not only is Seokjin in the same desk space as you, he had his chair rolled next to you in excitement that you could smell his cologne and even name the expensive brand; diptyque philosykos. It was the type of scent that had women swooning.

“I have to go now. Maybe I won’t have to stay late,” you laughed, “bye, I’ll see you home.”

“Mm, goodbye.” He muttered and a flat beep was heard yet he found himself holding onto the cellphone, listening to silence.

At last he slid the phone down his ears and threw it on the polished coffee table where his photographs lay. The device hit the surface with an audible ‘clang’, cutting deep into the silence. He’d lost all interest in being productive today. Too much was on his mind – thoughts that he knows aren’t true but he tormented himself with them anyway. He didn’t want to give into his feelings, but he was hurt. Just in excruciating pain, pain that made his fingers numb and blurred his vision with tears. He blinked them away quickly, moving to the kitchen and opening the fridge.

If you might work late today then you’d be hungry when you got back right? He had to make something, as drained as he felt at that moment. He need to make sure you’re healthy. He opened the fridge but couldn’t make out anything – everything was a sad, blurry, mess. He closed the door. Five minutes, just five minutes of rest and he’ll make something delicious for you, something that will only have you thinking about him and what a loving boyfriend he is. His chest suddenly felt heavy, as if someone wrapped stones around his ribs, and he leaned his forehead on the side of the fridge and cried, images of Seokjin making you smile and brushing his fingers over yours burning behind his eyelids. Jungkook never hated himself as much as he did when he cried.

He clutched the fabric of his white button-down shirt over his heart, sliding down the fridge, broken sobs leaving his lips, his shoulders shaking.

Like a plant springing between the cracks of concrete, a conversation he once had with you pounced to light. He didn’t know why he remembered it at that exact moment, but he closed his eyes and recalled your voice, your words sounding muffled.

‘Aww baby, please come out. I know you’ll look cute in them!’

Jungkook sighed, staring at himself in the mirror. He rolled the legs of his overalls up just above his ankles and rolled each ankle. He tugged on the buckles and moved to undo the top button of the cozy shirt underneath. There was no way to make this look sensual, not one bit. He combed his hair to the side but the same strand kept falling over his brows and he threw his hands up in frustration, crinkling his nose up to keep the fake rounded glasses just above the tip of his nose. If he didn’t know you as well as he did he would’ve thought you had a farmer kink. Or a Clark Kent kink.

‘Please!’ he heard you plead behind the door and he twists open the knob, catching you off guard. A fist was raised telling him that you were on the verge of knocking.

Then you were looking up and down, eyes finally settling on his pouting lips. Head thrown back you let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort. He felt annoyance crept up his spine immediately and turned his head away from you to hide his growing smile. Very funny.

‘Well, you got what you wanted,’ he said, deadpan, turning back to you with steeled eyes. ‘I’m taking them off.’ He moved to undo the buckles but you lurch forward and grabbed his hand, halting him.

‘Noooooo,’ you whined, cheeks rosy with joy. He kept the cold, unamused expression on his face but beneath that exterior he was completely delighted.

‘I can’t believe you’d spend so much money on something I’m not even gonna wear outside.’

You chuckled and slammed the door close with your foot, tugging him by the collars towards you. You’ve never seen a man look so cute.

‘Oh Kookie you always wear the same thing! Jeans, white shirts, jeans, white shirts, jeans and white shirts,’ you complained, pushing him back towards the bed until his knees hit the corner of the mattress and he fell backwards, the mattress dipping underneath his weight. He looked up at you with an even bigger pout, eyes wide as he peered at your face above the rim of his glasses.

‘I just had the sudden urge to see you in overalls. You’re not mad at me are you?’ You straddle him, thighs pressed on the sides of his legs, your breasts barely brushing his chest, your arms dangling off his shoulders. He shook his head, mesmerized at the sight.

‘Good.’ You lean forward, pecking him softly on the lips and pulled back. You smoothed his soft hair down the side, giggling lightly when that one stubborn strand bounces back on top of his eyebrows.

‘You know,’ you say, nostalgia lacing in your voice. ‘I’ve always wanted a bunny. And you…well, you kinda look like one.’

He raised a brow at you. ‘A bunny?’

You nodded, running your fingers in his scalp and tracing you finger down the bridge of his nose and across his cupid’s bow. The glimmer in your eyes was disappearing. ‘Yeah. A big, fluffy bunny with floppy ears and thumping feet.’

When you scratched him behind his ear, Jungkook thumped his foot rhythmically against the bed and you giggled, leaning forward to peck him on the lips again. ‘Yes, just like that.’

‘Why didn’t you get one then?’

You shrugged. ‘Circumstances, I suppose. My parents keep telling me I wasn’t responsible enough so I ended up studying about them all the time, even told them I wanted to major in rabbit studies.’

He laughed, the mole below his lip appearing, but his wide smile settled once your expression turned solemn. He bit his bottom lip, wondering how he was going to wipe that frown off your face.

‘We can go adopt one right now, noona. I can take care of it for you when you’re gone a-and I’ll study them too if you want me too.’

You smiled and shook your head again at him, your thumb running back and forth across his cheekbones. ‘I’d probably end up neglecting its needs. The city life is not for bunnies; they’ll be scared of all that noise and they won’t see a single patch of grass in this concrete jungle.’ You sighed. ‘They’ll be much happier with owners who can care for them in a big yard.’

You lay your head on his shoulder, breathing in his cologne. ‘It’s just a nice thought, you know? A soft, furry thing that fights for you attention and acts like a spoiled brat when you don’t give it to them. I’ve always thought they were the cutest things in the universe. Now that I’m old I think…wow, the life of a bunny is so sad. Their hearts are so fragile. They’ll want attention every second of the day and they’ll love you in return when you give it to them, but once you turn away, just for a second, they’ll cry.’ You pulled Jungkook’s head down to your chest, wrapping your arms around his head. You lay your cheek on his skull and kissed his scalp, running your fingers though the strands. ‘No matter how much you love someone, you’ll always find a way to hurt them just by existing. It is the most painful truth about life.’

Jungkook wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling you towards him even tighter. ‘Noona…’ He closed his eyes.

‘Kookie,’ you say, sniffling. ‘If I ever hurt you…please tell me,’ you smoothed his hair away his face, holding him steady against you, ‘don’t….don’t go to another woman. Please tell me so that I can tell you I’m sorry and that…that I won’t hurt you again.’

He shook his head repeatedly and you feel his tears stain your thin red chiffon blouse. ‘I won’t! I won’t ever do that to you.’ He growled. ‘Don’t cry, noona.’ He squeezed your waist, ‘I hate seeing you cry.’

You closed your eyes, taking deep steady breaths, petting Jungkook softly as you felt more tears stain through your blouse. Somehow today was harder to live through than other days. You tried hard to be strong, to be unfazed by such bleak days. This was adulthood. When you were a child it was easy to ask for a day to stay home from school so you can sulk all you want. But adulthood is nothing like that; you’re forced to face the day even when you can barely function. You must put on your face every morning and act like life treated you fairly when the people around you douse you in gasoline and hold a lit match behind you.

It was inevitable; people are hard to live with.

Maybe the nightmarish wedding night was nobody’s fault. Maybe you had hurt Namjoon along the way but you were too blind to see what it was doing to him, whatever it was that you did. Maybe Yori still loved you but you’d hurt her without knowing it and it made her rely on someone else for affection. Sadly, that someone turned out to be Namjoon. You know, deep down in your heart, that they were good people. Good people that made bad choices and left you with a wound that still bled. Some days Jungkook could patch that wound up tightly with his love, but other days, days like this, no amount of love can outdo the weight of disloyalty.

‘I’m sorry,’ you smiled, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. ‘I didn’t mean to ruin our night like this.’

You felt him shake his head underneath your chin and although you gently pushed his head back to take a look at his face, he didn’t budge.

‘Kookie,’ you whisper, your fingers finding his earlobe. You rubbed the cold piece of flesh softly, knowing how much it pleased him. ‘Look at me. Please…’

He pulled his head away from your chest but kept it tilted down so that all you can see was the top of his head. You place both hands on his cheek and lifted his face, your lips parting as your eyes met his wide brown ones welled with fresh tears. His nose and lips were red and his flushed cheeks were damp.

‘Oh baby,’ you cooed, removing the glasses from his face and laying it on the nightstand. You press your thumbs just underneath his eyes and rubbed away the moisture. ‘I’ve made you cry, you poor thing…’

He shook his head, his hair fluffing, and he sniffled. He stayed silent, hiccupping slightly as he desperately pushed back tears. You leaned forward and gave another peck on his lips, letting your lips rest on his slightly longer than the previous kisses.

You sighed, ‘I feel lighter now.’ You smoothed his hair back again, appreciating the softness. ‘Thank you for listening to this old woman ramble.’

‘Noona,’ he hiccuped, swallowing tears back. ‘I’ll always be here for you.’ He smoothed his hands up your waist to just below your underarms, lifting you up slightly so you rested closer to his body. You wrap your arms around his neck, heart racing at his earnest expression. ‘I’ll be your bunny.’ I’ll be the man for you.

You smiled, tears falling from the corners and you squeezed him even tighter. ‘My big, big bunny.’ You giggled. ‘What would I do without you?’

He smiled at you and you giggled, both of you feeling shy and loved. The chirping of crickets outside cut through the melancholy peace that occupied the room just moments before. No longer heavy with tears, you stared at your boyfriend with a newfound appreciation and he reciprocated the look through his dark lashes.

‘You know,’ he scratched the back of his head and nibbled on his bottom lip, ‘I don’t know much about bunnies, I mean, not as much as a rabbit major.’ He chuckled and it made you laugh. ‘but I do know that in the wild when a male bunny and a female bunny bond,’ he traced his thumb along your knee, ‘they mate for life.’

A grin spread your lips. ‘Oh really?’ you tilt your head, letting your hair fall behind you to reveal a patch of skin above your collar. ‘Why don’t you show me, bunny, how they do it in the wild.’

He blinked, exhaling slowly, eyes focused on your skin. ‘As you wish.’

Leaning forward he pressed his lips against your warm neck, tongue pushing through his lips to taste the saltiness. With one hand reaching to the nightstand, he dipped his fingers beneath the lamp and switched off the lights with a flick of a wrist.

Neither of you got much sleep that night.

And it seems, Jungkook thought, holding the bottle of absinthe up to his lips, neither of you will get much sleep tonight also. The clock was ticking towards midnight. You were supposed to be home three hours ago. There were no calls from you, not even a text message. He called, once every half hour, and it was the same ‘we’re sorry but the call cannot be reached’ message all over again. Why did you turn off your phone? Why?

He swallowed a large gulp of alcohol, eyes squeezed shut as the bitter liquid burned sliding down his esophagus. He looked up at the kitchen counter, at the dinner he made, gone cold. The pasta hardened at room temperature and he could no longer smell the scent of the tomato sauce he worked so hard on just mere hours ago. He could feel tears well up behind his eyelids and a harsh sob escaped his mouth. This wasn’t how he imagined today would be. From finding out about that man, to you not even bothering to call him once during the entire day, and now three hours late. Three whole hours. How can writing a few documents take so long?

A horrified thought pierced through his brain and he groaned, rubbing his temples, pushing it out. Get out, get out, get out! He rubbed his forehead against the fridge, curling his body around the bottle.

What if you weren’t even working? What if you’d decided, on a whim, that he was too immature for you, too young to please you. This Seokjin person would lure you into his office and say how your sweet and innocent boyfriend is not man enough for you. Why settle for the bunny when you can enjoy the big bad wolf? By now your workplace would be empty and it would be perfect for him to trail his hand up your thigh and up your blouse. Jungkook groaned, feeling violently ill at the thought of your new assistant’s hands touching in places only he was allowed to touch. You’re neglecting him, he thought, your bunny.

And just when he was about to take a final swig of the bottle, a beep rang through the apartment followed by the sound of heels against parquet. He perked up immediately, rubbing his face and hair, not wanting you to see what a mess he’s made you in just a full work day but it was useless. He looked like a mess.

“Kookie?” you called out, glancing back and forth between the bright hallway and the living room. The lights were all turned on, even the small lamps on each side of the couch. “I’m sorry I was late, I didn’t know that Seokjin also deleted my-“

You stopped walking, eyes landing on the figure curled on the floor. You hadn’t seen him when you walked in, his body covered by the large marble counter. And now you almost wish you didn’t. Mouth falling open, you stared.

He looked ill, physically ill. His face was pale white and only his eyes, nose, and lips were tinted red. His hair resembled a bird’s nest on top of his head and his entire body was curled like a shrimp, scrunched tight. If he hadn’t looked so much like a bunny before, he did now. A very, very scared bunny.

“Kookie,” you sighed, slipping out of yours heels, inching closer to him. “What’s…going on?”

His eyes flew to your worried expression and then down to the phone clasped in your hand.

“You didn’t answer my calls” he groaned, sitting up rubbing his face with the sleeves of his alcohol-stained shirt. “I thought…something happened.”

You knelt, watching him as his eyes followed you. “I dropped it at work and I couldn’t turn it on again.” You turn the screen towards him and his eyes traced over the cracks on the phone. You weren’t lying to him.

His eyes were fixed on the screen, exhaling in relief.

It wasn’t because of Seokjin.

Jungkook didn’t realize how exhausted he was until you reached for him halfway and caught his weak body in your arms, your hand immediately clasping over his forehead. He was breaking out in a cold sweat. The weight of his lethal thoughts drooped and he felt himself shake with laughter, slapping himself in the knee. Confused and worried, you held him, held him until his empty laughter died down into harsh coughs.

“Why are you drinking so much, Kookie? What were you thinking?” You scolded, rubbing his sweaty temples as you pulled him to your chest, his body resting between your legs, your back against the humming fridge.

“I thought,” he murmured, settling his head against your chest. “you were gone.”

You shook your head. “Of course not. I don’t know why you’d think that.”

He licked his lips. “You didn’t call,” he grunted, chest squeezing in pain, alcohol burning in his stomach. “And you were with him…for three hours.” He shook his head free of the thoughts. “I thought he’d taken advantage of you.”

Your heart melted. “Kookie,” you smoothed his sweat-soaked hair back, “I promise you nothing is going to happen. I’ve worked with him before and he’s a very nice person; he won’t lay a finger on me. Oh baby,” you cooed, resting your cheek on his head. “I can’t believe you’d drink yourself sick over this.”

“Noona,” he squirmed, pressing himself harder into you. “hold me.”

You secured your arms around him, letting his head rest on your chest while he quietly cried the pain away, his bottom lip breaking as he dug his teeth into it to keep silent. With one hand over his heartbeat and the other clasped over his eyes as if to shield him from the horrors of the world, you held him. Your bunny, who was terrified in this small apartment, surrounded by the concrete jungle. Your bunny, who thought he had lost his mate. Your bunny who was one mouthful of absinthe away from unconsciousness.

You rest your chin on his head, careful not to put too much pressure. “Sleep, baby,” you whispered, closing your eyes also, exhaustion evident in your eyes. “Sleep.”

Dinner was not touched that night. The city outside seem to understand your situation and lowered its volume. Your cell phone lay on the floor, beside Jungkook’s bottle, broken beyond repair.

[12miraenie]

Quandary

🎃Paring: Baekhyun x Reader 

🎃Genre: Fluff, Ghost AU 

🎃Word Count: 3k 

🎃Summary: What happens when you can suddenly see the ghost who’s been living in your house longer than you have? 

A/N: Part of the Month of the Supernatural prompts, where you can request here. This is for anon, enjoy! 🎃

🎃 Link to Masterlist 

🎃Request here 

“Bye, mom!”

The forced smile on your face disappeared the moment her taxi sped past the gate of your house. You tucked both hands into the back pockets of your jeans and sighed. Seriously, what kind of mom abandons her kid when they are about to turn 20 for a business conference? For over a month you’ve been thinking about this birthday when all of your families can finally be together to celebrate you passing the legal drinking age and joining the rest of your family for a drink.

That was the plan until your brother was called in for an internship and your dad miraculously lost his passport abroad. And now, your mom too. It’s not like they don’t love you or don’t care about you, judging from the pile of gifts on the table and the brand new car in the driveway that your brother got for you. You don’t want to sound like a spoiled brat complaining about not getting enough attention, but honestly, you just wished that you can have a conversation together on the same table instead of texts and things that you probably won’t ever use.

“Right, this means…takeout.” You mumbled to yourself and shut the door behind you.

You remember the look on your dad’s face distinctively whenever you craved pizza or chicken. After he forbid you and your brother from eating junk food, you were disheartened for a while until one night you found your brother munching on a chicken leg while watching a movie at 2 am. Where did your brother hide the takeout posters? 

“Aish, this jerk!” Your fisted your hair in frustration after opening probably the tenth drawer in the kitchen.

Suddenly one of the top cupboards above the stove cranked open slowly and then shut close with a loud slam. You jumped at the sound, a small yelp came out of your mouth. Putting a hand on your heart, you could feel its rapid beating.

“What the heck?” You turned to the side only to see the tightly shut windows. You froze and listened carefully, but the house was quiet like nothing happened just now. Shaking your head, you tried to get rid of the sudden shock and opened another drawer.

Bang.

You snapped your head up only to see the same drawer being opened and closed again. You hesitated for a second but still reached up to open the cupboard. There on the side laid a bunch of takeout flyers. You let out a shaky breath and sat on one of the chairs.

Are you surprised? Not really. Since you could remember, there has always been something weird going on in the house. The cereal you put on the table would be on top of the fridge, the jacket you tossed on the couch would be in your closet the next day, or the curtain would be drawn at as early as 7am on Saturdays.

One night your brother came home and shouted from the foyer, “Yah! You finally learned to put your shoes right!”

Did you? Why did you remember kicking them off and heading to sleep the moment you came home? When your parents and brother were asked if they have similar experiences, all you got was blank looks, a sigh, and “Y/N, we are not 5-year-old children.”

Reading through articles online and scrolling through forums only got you one conclusion. You are haunted.

You laughed, as long as the moon orbits around the earth, ghosts don’t exist. You probably put the cereal back, hang your jacket, and put your shoes back in their places without noticing. And your brother must have opened the curtains to annoy you on the weekends. The more you think, the more you were convinced.

Nothing is going on. You are overthinking, Y/N.

It was an hour later the food arrived. Putting the bags down in front of the TV, you smiled as the heavenly aroma attacked your nostrils. You ran like a giddy child to get utensils from the kitchen. However, when you returned the previously tied bags were open, revealing the takeout boxes.

Right, you opened them before getting up.

You bit into a piece of the heavenly fried chicken and almost sucked in a breath. It is undoubtedly the best thing you’ve ever eaten since you were born. What your dad’s deal with it? You shook your head and turned your attention back to the Mission Impossible marathon. You thought back on your brother and parents. Their loss for missing this.

You woke up face planted in the pillow and fished for your phone on the bedstand. Turning your head to the side, you squinted at the bright screen full of Happy Birthday messages from your friends and relatives. It sucks to be born in summer when everyone’s out on vacation. You couldn’t even go out with your friends.

A yawn left your mouth as you stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body. You had the best sleep ever, without waking up to the bright sunlight from outside the window. You couldn’t even remember the last time you woke up after 10am.

You brushed your hair and plugged in the hair dryer. Humming a familiar tune, you start drying your hair and looked into the mirror. From the reflection, you could see a man was leaning on the wall behind and staring at you.

You blinked your eyes and rubbed them, fully believing that he will be gone and the only thing you would see is the bathroom wall. When you opened your eyes again, you wished you hadn’t. Because the man was still standing behind and looking at you, only this time, he had his arms crossed.

The realization came too quick for your liking, your hands started trembling as your heartbeat picked up its rate, going off the chart in no more than two seconds. Despite the stoic face, on the inside you were more scared than you ever thought you could be. Breathing through your nose deeply, you unplugged the hair dryer and hit the guy the second you turned around.

Baekhyun’s POV

He hasn’t felt anything in a long time, but the burning sensation on his left arm felt more real than anything else. Before he can even take a look, something heavy hit his head. Baekhyun yelped and shielded his head with both hands, “Aish! What-Yah, stop!” But you were calling him all kinds of colorful names in a loud voice that easily covered his. He knew things being thrown to him, but they went past him that air and he couldn’t feel them like before.

“What the fuck?” You cursed, and then it was silence.

Baekhyun dared himself to open his eyes and came face to face to you staring at his mouth and eyes wide open in shock. You had one hand clutched around the towel and the other grabbing on the dryer tightly. Baekhyun came-no, floated-one step closer and you dropped the dryer to the floor.

“You…can see me?” Baekhyun asked in a timid but hopeful voice, his eyes shined brighter than before. Finally, after thousands of years, someone is able to see him! Excitement took over him as he went even closer.

Baekhyun watched you take small steps backward until your body touched the opposite wall. A triumphant smile took over his face, “You really can see me, right?”  

“Get away from me.”  

Baekhyun’s smile faltered. “No! Please, I promise I’m not a pervert or a stranger or even a person! I can’t harm you anyway.”

Gesturing wildly, he tried to convince you that he’s perfectly harmless, which did the opposite thing that he hoped for. Baekhyun punched the wall on his side, watching your eyes bulge into the size of glass balls.

“See? I can���t touch anything, they just go through me.” Baekhyun shrugged and put on the best smile he could muster, “Now can-“

Before he could even finish his sentence, your eyes rolled to the back, and you passed out.

Your POV

“Now that we are past introductions, we can be friends! Ah, it feels good to have someone actually hear you speak.”

You had a blanket wrapped tightly around you as you slipped on the cup of hot tea, watching the man-no, ghost dancing and twirling in the kitchen happily like he just got a hundred million dollars. There is no way that you could imagine any of this is true, that ghosts actually exist, that he’s been living here longer than you have, and the fact that you can actually see them.

“I don’t even know your name, ok? Can you please just sit down so we can talk?” Being this calm in front of a supernatural creature was not what you had imagined. The fainting probably took away all the shocks and scared you got from him. Your voice isn’t even trembling.

“My name is Baekhyun.”

You bit your lip watching the man who looks like he comes from the ancient Joseon era. Discarding everything else, you can’t help but notice how good looking he is. There’s no point denying that the blue silk robe weaved with golden threads accentuated his flawless features, and the sheen of slightly shining transparency makes him look ethereal. He just seems so different from all the Joseon people you learned from history class, who all had long beards, wrinkled faces, and bad money habits. Baekhyun, on the other hand, looks more like an actor in a historical drama.

Oh god, what are you thinking?

You cleared your throat, preventing “So, umm…who are you? I mean, are you a Joseon emperor or something?”

Baekhyun shook his head, “I am more like the general type.”

You arched an eyebrow, from the way he acts like a 5-year-old kid you would never have guessed that. Maybe the doubt is your eyes was obvious enough for him to explain, “I know, my brother thinks the same too.”  

“So um…do you just roam around here? Don’t you have some kind of mission or things to do?” You thought back on the ghosts or spirits portrayed in popular media, wondering if they are true or not.

Baekhyun laughed humorlessly. “Mission? You want me to live my life? My life has been over. For centuries. I’m dead. Yes, I am stuck between life and death because I couldn’t revenge for my brother, but you kind of stop thinking about it after 7 hundred years.”

Even though his face didn’t show it, the look in his eyes betrayed him. They were filled with sadness and the kind of nostalgia and missing someone that breaks your heart even from justing looking at him.

The atmosphere was becoming too tense for your liking, it felt like all the air molecules were pushing down on you. Baekhyun looked like he had just woken up from a bad dream, but he covered up quick enough for the pain in his eyes pass in a fleeting moment.

“So…last night the cupboards….it was you, right?”

Baekhyun nodded, the silk headband moved up and down with his head.

“So I am not ill after all. You said you’ve been here for the last 21 years, so you’ve been doing this all the time?“

He crossed his arms and jumped down-no, floated closer. That’s the only thing you still can’t get used to, the fact that he has legs and doesn’t use them to walk or at least, appear walking. Baekhyun looks surprisingly real, his skin has a normal color, and the texture of his silk robe looks intricate enough to touch, and every detail of his face is clear.

“The cereal boxes?“

“Yep.”

“My shoes?“

“Yep.”

“My clothes?”

“Yep. It’s gonna be the same answer to all the other questions you have. Yes, I also breathed down your neck whenever you got a wrong answer at your history homework.”

You sighed and pinched your nose, _it all makes so much sense now._ You thought back to the times you convinced yourself that you just have a good intuition in for history, ”That’s why I always get an A in history?“

“Then why didn’t you do that to all my homework?”

Baekhyun cleared his throat, “You wouldn’t have guessed that even after hundreds of years there are people still bad at counting numbers, right?“

You burst into laughter at Baekhyun who started to blush. Different from humans, the pink on his cheeks looked more transparent, almost a jelly-like color.

“Yah! At least you had a free housekeeper for twenty years. Don’t be a brat.” Baekhyun pouted, the annoyed frown on his face made him look more adorable ever.

Baekhyun feels like the long-lost best friend you never had. The fact that he’s been with you since birth felt creepy before, but you can tell that Baehyun is genuinely nice to be around with. Well, except times he’s annoying as hell.  

“Y/N…I want that.”

You shivered when Baekhyun breathed down your neck. Turning around, you gave him a hard stare.  

“No, Baekhyun. I need to finish this paper today. Plus you already have clothes. Go away.”  

Baekhyun huffed loudly when you closed the tab on a shopping site. Just when you thought he had gone to somewhere else, the screen of your computer glitched and went black.

“Yah! Byun Baehyun!” You fisted your hair in irritation, “I didn’t even save that paragraph!“

“Is something wrong?“

Your brother’s head appeared from behind the door and the pen you threw in Baekhyun’s direction magically hit his head instead.

“You were loud enough for me to hear through noise reduction headphones.”

Your eyes darted to Baekhyun, who was standing a few inches away from your brother and watching with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Sorry. I was just annoyed with my _nuclear proliferation timelines. _”

He shrugged, “That’s why I told you to study business in college.”

You picked up the pen on the ground after your brother left and threw it to Baekhyun again. The plan to ignore him didn’t go well the moment he looked at you with those puppy eyes. The natural downturned shape didn’t help with your resolution as well. How come that it’s so hard to refuse him?

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Fine.”

Somehow you ended up in Gucci. Somehow Baekhyun pointed to that 600 dollar sweater you think is absolutely disgusting and said he wanted it.

You let out an exasperated sigh and turned to the shopping assistant with a forced smile.

”I’ll take this, thanks.”

Baekhyun floated next to you happily while you stared at the receipt with a painful expression.

“Do you know how much I spent on you already? You are gonna get me bankrupt in no time.”

“But you love me. And…“ Baekhyun whispered in a sing-song voice, “I help you with your tests in school.“

You sighed. There’s no way you can argue with that. Ever since Baekhyun figured out he’s no longer bound to stay in the house when he’s with you, he’s been tagging along wherever you go. And soon comes the perk of being the only one who can see and hear a ghost when Baekhyun shouts answers to multiple choice questions to you during tests in exchange for food or clothes. You still jump sometimes because of how loud he can be as if other people can see him as well.

You set up the fire in a remote spot of the riverside park, where you burn everything for Baekhyun. Tearing apart the carefully wrapped box, you dropped the sweater into the fire watching it lit on flames. You sighed, people would think you are crazy if they see you like this.

“Happy?”

You turned around to Baekhyun when everything was reduced to black dust on the ground. Your breath hitched as you took him in. 

How comes he still looks good in an ugly sweater like that? He looks more like a runway model than anyone else. Your heart started going crazy watching him under the afternoon sunlight. It made him glow even more. Your eyes caught on the details of his face, the amber of his eye, the small scar on the side of his cheek, and the strands of hair covering half of his forehead. They looked more real than usual, almost like solid colors.

You stepped closer and looked him over once again. Where did that transparency go? He should look more invisible under strong light, but  Baekhyun looked completely the opposite. 

“Is it alright? Yellow looks nice, huh?”

You pointed to one side of his body, “There’s a ruffled edge on the left side.“

“Where?” Baekhyun turned his head back and forth but couldn’t get it right. You knew that he couldn’t touch anything, but at that moment something propelled you to reach out your hands to him.

Baekhyun jumped back like he was burned by a candlestick the moment your fingers touched the now straighten sweater. When you realized it, you froze too.

He looked down in confusion, why didn’t your hands go through him like everybody else?

“You were able to touch me just now, how?”

You stared at your hand in shock, the texture of cashmere still felt real on the tip of your fingers. Did you just touch Baekhyun?

You sucked in a breath when you reached out again, but this time to his hand. The slightly cold but unmistakably real sensation of his fingers against your palm scorched you like a fire. Your hand was shaking when Baekhyun reached out, but this time he felt your hand for real.

Your head snapped up to meet Baekhyun’s when his fingers were wrapped around your wrist gently. The coldness from where the tip of his fingers met your wrists reminded you that everything is real, that you and Baekhyun are actually able to touch each other.

“Am I…becoming human?”

[theobsessor1]

My Anxious Prince

Wanted to do something different with fanfiction and write Virgil as the prince instead of Roman, don’t think I’ll be writing more than this one peice.

Summary: The kingdom of Dagragon, known for the many dragons that lived in its surrounding forests, is a kingdom of peace and trade. Two sons were born to the king and queen, Thomas and Virgil Nightless. Thomas is the oldest of the two and was the better candidate for an arranged marriage with another kingdom to keep the peace.

With Thomas gone, Virgil has to take on the responsibility of heir to the throne, that means lots of studying, training, and mock council meetings. This generally leaves him with very little free time, and when he does he is not allowed to leave the castle. To solve this problem he sneaks out at night, enjoying the fresh air and observing the citizens he will one day be ruling over.

Words: 2669

Pairings: Logicallity (eventual Prinxiety)

Warnings: light cussing at the end, some blood (if I need to add one please let me know!)

Chapter 1

Our story begins with a young man no more than 20 years old hiding in the shadows, his eyes ever changing hues of brown, currently, a shade of chocolate as they darted about scanning the large and dimly lit foyer of the castle.

It was late at night so most of the occupants of the castle were fast asleep by now, he has done this at least a dozen times by now. There was no need for him to feel so- so terrified right now, right?

He nervously chewed the bottom of his lip, pulled his violet cloak closer to him, and out through a large wooden door, exiting the castle. He could feel himself breathing easier as the main gate to the castle grounds drew closer.

He could see two guards manning the gate, and another figure waiting idly for him.

As soon as he was in hearing distance of the group the figure spoke to him

“I was beginning to assume you had been caught there, Virgil. ” His voice was steady, with a professional tone.

Even in the dark Virgil could make out his friends outfit, the usual crisp, clean scholars suit accompanied by a satchel full of books. Their black hair styled neatly away from their face, everything about him was professional.

Logan Newson had been hired as his tutor by his parents, they had thought it might be a good idea for someone closer to his age to teach him so he wouldn't go running off to meet people outside the castle. Turns out he didn’t hate it as much as he thought he would, Logan and him bonded over their social awkwardness, and surprisingly he was able to convince Logan to agree to a deal, they sneak out of the castle at night, and he can turn those nights into learning experiences.

“I almost was, one of mothers maids nearly found me in a corridor,” Virgil responded, taking deep breaths to steady his heartbeat from his run over. He made a hand gesture to the guards, who are familiar to Virgil’s outings, to open the gate and let them pass.

Talking as they walked “I see your seamstress finally finished your.-” Logan gestured with a hand to Virgil's outfit “street clothes as you called them.”

Virgil was currently dressed in a plain white tunic, a thin lavender vest over it designed like one from the commonwealth, black trousers and a pair of black boots. All of this topped off with his violet cloak with an intricate silver design along the bottom rim. Oh and of course he never left anywhere without his sword, strapped to his side, you never know what’s gonna happen.

Virgil nodded, self-consciously adjusting the hood “Like I had said before, I needed something discrete to wear, or it would be easier for me to be caught.”

Logan silently raised an eyebrow glancing at the design on the cloak, in all honesty, he didn’t think Virgil needed the cloak,

“The seamstress, Taylon, insisted on the silver design, something about Royalty must always look their best. ”

Logan nodded, acknowledging him. “So where are we gallivanting off to tonight?”

“Hmmm I don’t have anything in mind at the moment, may-maybe just walk around town and do some uh tax trivia?” Virgil winced at his stutter, when unsure of his words he tended to get stuck on them as well as when he gets extremely anxious.

Thankfully unlike his parents Logan wouldn’t point it out or reprimand him for it. No, he merely pushed his glasses further up his nose and continued the conversation.  

“That is a good suggestion, it has been a while since we have gone over the subject of taxes. I shall start with some scenarios and you come up with solutions for them.”

In another part of town, we find another young man laying wide awake in bed. He had a book laying open on his chest. He was supposed to be sleeping, but he couldn’t help but stay up late reading and fantasizing about great adventures instead.

Stuck working with his family in the trading business there wasn’t much room for adventuring, so he had to stick with books to satisfy him. His favorite ones were that of which entailed a prince rescuing a princess.

He loved imagining himself as the prince, going through dangerous and daring quests until he finally rescues his damsel in distress, the satisfying glory of finding his lost loved one. Sometimes he imagined himself in the princess’ place instead, suffering for ages until the day came, where he is rescued by a handsome knight and he is swept off his feet.

But that doesn’t happen to people like him, he was just part of a noble family. The day would soon come where he would have to pick another nobleman’s daughter as his wife and continue working the trade with his new family.

Unhappy with that thought he quickly got out of bed and began to dress. He can still enjoy the freedom he has now. Once dressed he gave himself a once-over in the tall mirror by the bedroom door. He had chosen to wear a white tunic with golden lace on the sleeves, a pair of brown trousers and black boots.

He scrunched up his nose before fixing their hair, then with a nod was satisfied with his reflection and quietly left his room.

The only light on in the house at the moment was a dim candlelight in the kitchen, someone was still up. All he had to do was sneak past and he can leave with no questions asked.

“Roman?” a voice behind him asked

Roman jumped startled and whipped around to face the person behind him

“Geeze didn’t mean to scare you!”

Roman immediately recognized his younger brother “Nate! Why in the high heavens are you up right now?!” he added a dramatic wave of his hand

“ I could ask you the same thing.” Nate countered with a roll of his eyes, he was all to use to the dramatics of his older brother.

“Mhm Touché, Slumber has seemed to have slipped from my grasp and thought a nice stroll would help catch her once more. Your turn”

Nate rubbed the back of his neck and looked down guiltily “ I forgot to deliver that pound of flour to the Knead for Sweets bakery today”

Roman sighed if frustration but smiled and ruffled Nate’s hair “If you weren’t such a procrastinator it would have gotten done, Since I’m heading out already I’ll take it for you”

Nate’s eyes shoot towards Roman “You won’t tell father will you?!”

“No I’ll let it slide this time, next time tho I’ll be letting him handle it”

“ thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!!” Nate exclaimed “ I had no idea how I was gonna carry that heavy sack all the way to the bakery”

“Alright, enough of that. Go to bed already, I’ll see you in the morning” Roman gently pushed his brother towards another bedroom.

“Night Roman”

“Good night” Once Nate was in his proper room Roman took the flour sack that Nate had left on the kitchen floor and hoisted it over his shoulder, it was really heavy but nothing he couldn’t handle and made his way to Knead for Sweets.

Upon arriving at the bakery Roman noticed the lights were still on. Quickly entering through the front door he found the baker startled awake at the front counter.

“Patton? Why are you still open, shouldn’t you be closed right now, and more importantly in bed?” Roman asked

“Oh Hi Roman, um I had trouble sleeping came here to bake and keep my mind off things-” Patton interrupted himself “Oh my gods is that the flower I ordered, I was worried I wouldn’t make it through the next morning without that!” he had begun bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement

Roman chuckled “You want this in the usual spot?”

“Yes, please! Oh, and I have a pie you can take home!”

Roman nodded and made his way to the back of the bakery, Patton was about to follow him but his attention was turned to the front door as the little bell rang, announcing the arrival of possible customers.

Virgil could already taste the sweet delights in the bakery from the smell alone. After spending some time on the tax trivia he had been craving something sweet, after spotting Patton’s bakery he insisted to Logan they go in.

Logan tried to persuade him that it wasn’t a good idea. He had uncharacteristically begun stumbling over excuses for them not to enter the shop. Only making Virgil want to come in more his curiosity getting the better of him at why Logan was acting so strange.

Now Virgil understood why

An adorable short and a little chubby young man, probably around their age,  was in charge of the bakery and obviously had Logan wrapped around his little finger.

He was bouncing with joy his red hair bouncing along with him “Lo-lo! I was wondering why you hadn’t visited today. I made heart shaped cookies!”  he exclaimed with giggles of excitement coming around the counter to come hug Logan

Logan’s dark blue eyes softened “Hello Patton, I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier I was busy” Logan’s voice had dropped the professional tone and a had become sweet and loving. A small smile had crawled onto his face as he hugged back his small ball of sunshine. With Patton standing closer, Virgil could see all the freckles under Patton's light blue eyes

“ So this is the guy you were gushing over for a week of my lessons?” Virgil couldn't help but smirk as he teased him

Logan’s eyes grew wide “ You promised never to disclose that information!”

Virgil shrugged before he could say another word Patton had his full attention on him next, having stepped away from Logan and was standing close to Virgil, a little too close in his opinion.

“Wow kiddo, your cloak is so fancy! Did you make it yourself? How long did it take to make? Is it heav-” Logan interrupted him, he could tell Virgil was becoming overwhelmed  “Patton careful, take a breath and start again.”

“Hehe right, I’m sorry. I get a little um overboard sometimes. I’m not sure if we have met before but my name is Patton Gentelborne, you can just call me Patton.”

Taking a breath to recover from the onslaught of questions, Virgil hesitated before introducing himself. “My na-name is Virgil, um Virgil Nightless. It’s nice to meet you”

Thankfully either Patton didn’t realize Virgil was the prince by his last name or didn’t appear to show it.

“ Nice to meet you too! Now am I right to assume your out here so late cause your hungry? I have some cream puffs I was just about to throw out if you want”

Virgil nodded vigorously, cream puffs where the best pastries and no one could tell him otherwise.  Logan shrugged, he wasn’t into sweets all that much.

Patton showed them to a table to sit and hurried off to the back. When he returned someone unfamiliar was following him

“Roman, If you really insist on leaving already then take some cream puffs to go, I’ll make sure to have fresh ones next time.” Patton offered

“Thanks, but I’ll have to accept that offer another time. Bye Patton.” Roman graciously declined with a half bow and left with the bell jingling behind him.

After some time getting to know Patton, enjoy some embarrassing stories of Logan trying to bake, and stuff his face full of cream puffs. Virgil was ready to go.

Thinking for a moment, he decided to leave Logan to enjoy the company of his lover and politely excused himself “Your sure you don’t want me to escort you back to the castle?”

“Yes, I’m fine Logan. You enjoy yourself, I’ll see you tomorrow” And with that Virgil left, walking down the dark streets by himself

After a few blocks chills ran up his spine, was that a shout for help? He stopped in his tracks and listened closely.  

There it was again! Shouting! It sounded like it could be some kind of fight.

Virgil bit his lip holding tightly to his cloak, should he run or go help? If he ran could be leaving someone in danger, but if he did go help he could be putting himself in danger. If he didn’t help a citizen in need wouldn’t that make him a bad prince? But he also shouldn't be out here in the first place, he wouldn’t have known...

With a frustrated shout, he makes up his mind and runs toward the shouting.

As he nears he slows down and uses the shadows to his advantage, he can see three gentlemen surrounding another man, they were complaining about something not being delivered yet.

These were all older man, whom should know better than to start fights. The younger man they had surrounded was trying to stand tall but was obviously having difficulty from being battered by the other people's fists.

Wait! He recognized him! That’s the guy from the bakery, Patton called him Roman right?

There was a sudden ringing of metal, the sound of a weapon leaving its sheath!

Virgil’s eyes caught the glint of metal, one of the men had a small knife and the other two held swords.

They were gonna kill him!

Before Virgil even knew what was happening his body moved on its own, he charged in just as the guy with the knife stabbed Roman. His sudden appearance had surprised the group of men giving him time to draw his own sword.

Beautifully crafted, his sword had a Silver hilt, unlike the traditional gold, with a few white and purple jewels embedded in it. Black leather was wrapped around the handle. Etched on the blade itself was the saying Demons run when a good man goes to war. He needed to be quick or Roman may bleed out. Virgil watch each of the men in front of him cautiously, he has been taught how to use his sword, he can do this

The guy on his left charges toward him sword raised high and chops it down in one sweeping arc. Virgil clumsily blocks it, a real sword fight was definitely different from training!

The man brings his sword up and down again but in a different direction this time. Frantically Virgil is blocking his attacks, he needs to find a way to beat him.

That’s when Virgil sees it, an empty can behind his assailant. Quickly he pushes his opponent when he blocked his attack, sending him tripping over the can.

He hadn’t noticed that during the fight his hood had managed to slip off and the men before him could clearly see him glaring down on them.

“M’lord?! We had no idea it was you! We didn’t mean t-” “You are lucky that your friend here didn't cut me or I would have the three of you hanged! Leave before I decide otherwise!”

The man hastily picked up their friend and left looking back every now and then to make sure they were really seeing the prince standing there.

Virgil let out the breath he was holding and nearly collapsed to his knees. extremely thankful he hadn’t stuttered. Gods he is never doing that again, ever!

A strangled cough behind him reminded him why he was there in the first place

“Shit!” He whipped around to find Roman sitting against the wall, blood staining the side of his shirt. His neat almost caramel colored blond hair had fallen into his eyes, their nose scrunched up in pain.

Virgil quickly kneeled down beside him, “Your-Your gonna b-be ok!” gods what was he supposed to do, the guy was stabbed in the side from the obvious amount of blood on his shirt, but he wasn’t a doctor, he didn’t know how to help.

Roman’s eyes were fluttering closed “Hey! St-stay with me, You are-are not dying right after I rescued you!” Virgil slapped at his face to keep him awake, but it wasn’t working efficiently

“Damn it! Someone help! Come on stay-stay awake!!!”