#thank you so much for sending in such a kind message!! the comparison between the two is pretty similar hehe!!!

[awakenthebeing]

piepoe reminds me of kirby because they’re both pink and round, plus kirby is genderless in japan :)

BROOOO I WAS PLANNING ON DOODLING THE TWO AS WELL!! I used this as an excuse to not only do that but to also make Piepoe giving a birthday cake they made to Kirby as a present!!! (SINCE I THINK THE KIRBY 31ST ANNIVERSARY IS SOON?? TOMORROW?? TODAY?? REGARDLESS, HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIRBY!!!💖💖💖)

[1d1195]

Tulips

This is the story I dubbed as therapeutic for myself. I've been struggling a lot lately (I apologize for the delay in posting). I actually wanted this to be more but I wanted to post very badly. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy a lot of fluff and bit of angst.

Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak.

Harry was at the grocery store, passing the florist department when he realized his mistake. He had been dating her for nearly two months when he came to the realization that he hadn’t gotten her a bouquet of flowers yet. He felt horrible immediately and wanted to remedy the situation as quickly as he possibly could.

But he wanted her to like the flowers he got, and he wanted it to be a surprise. Neither of which he was sure he could pull off when he hadn’t asked her once what her favorite flower.

Like an absolute creep, he messaged her youngest sister on Instagram; he had at least met her in passing on one of their dates when they stopped for a coffee while she was working. Harry hadn’t met the other two just yet so messaging them would have seemed insane.

Hiiii. Uh...sorry to message you like this...any chance you know your sister’s favorite flowers?

Oh, my goodness, that’s too sweet! Umm...now that I think about it, I’m not sure. Let me ask.

Er...I was hoping it could be a surprise.

Aww...Don’t worry I have just the idea, wait one minute.

Harry waited patiently for her response thinking about how smitten he was with the beautiful girl. Just the mere thought of her brought a smile to his face, making him nearly giggle with how much he liked her. Flowers didn’t seem like enough. She deserved a whole garden.

Here’s what I got. She’s so sad sometimes *eyeroll*

Harry frowned and clicked on the screenshot titled Will Recipients. He chuckled at the name. He knew it was between the four girls and Harry was looking for his lovely lady’s response in the many messages they managed to send. He was slightly amazed they had time to send all of them in a matter of five minutes that he texted her sister.

Her sister started: I’m doing a project for school. What’s your favorite flower?

Harry didn’t know which middle sister was which, but he thought their responses were funny, nonetheless. What kind of project asks about your favorite flower?

I like daisies.

That’s the most boring answer I’ve ever heard. Harry knew the youngest was brutal sometimes and he thought of messaging with Gemma, and it was nothing in comparison to four girls ranging from their late teens to their mid-twenties. It’s for my stats class.

I took that class, we never did a flower thing.

Can you just tell me?

Finally, the oldest answered and Harry examined her little gray message for entirely too long. Like the one I actually like? or the one I tell everyone I like? That was her response.

What kind of lunatic lies about their favorite flower?

The kind that gets told their favorite is old-ladyish all the time. Or laughed at because it’s a stupid flower. Forget it, I like sunflowers.

Harry frowned and responded to her sister once more. Any chance you could find out the real one?

Sure!

Within moments Harry had another screenshot.

Hey drama queen, I won’t tell the others, what’s your real favorite flower. I’ll even keep my comments to myself.

Tulips.

Nothing else. That was the only thing she wrote. Harry didn’t really know what to expect but it wasn’t tulips.

Thank you, love. I appreciate it.

Any time Harry! Let me know how she likes them!!!

Harry was planning when he’d see her next and looked into all types of tulips and how to care for them as well. He wanted her to like them and didn’t want her to feel bad about liking them. Making her happy was his goal. He didn’t really feel any particular way about tulips at all. He didn’t really think they were old-ladyish so he wondered where that came from. He felt bad the poor thing had to hide her real feelings. He never wanted her to feel that way around him.

Harry thought it would seem too obvious if he brought flowers right away. So he had to wait for just right the time which gave him plenty of time to research the perfect color and care needed for the pretty girl that deserved pretty flowers.

*

Harry knocked on her door holding the bouquet in his hand. They were going to dinner and a movie that evening and Harry came prepared—especially since it was now approaching nearly three months since they began dating. After a quick greeting she seemed to finally notice all at once the flowers in his hand. “Kitten?” He asked gently as she stared at the flowers. Her eyes sort of glazed over.

“Are you the reason my sister was asking us our favorite flower?” She wondered.

Harry frowned a little. First, she was too smart. He was sad she knew so quickly the motives of her sister asking the question were tied to him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she still lied to her sister, and these weren’t her favorite flowers. Harry bit his lip and sighed. “Er...yeah,” he sounded so shy. “M’sorry, kitten...I thought I got the right—” She shook her head and stayed silent as Harry stopped speaking. It was so silent. Nearly uncomfortable with how silent it was. Why would her sister lie to him?

God, he really liked her, and he thought he ruined everything just by getting her flowers. His frown deepened and he sighed as he went to the kitchen to find a vase. She stayed by the door almost in a trance, and Harry felt a little awkward trying to figure out what her reaction meant.

“Harry?” She said softly and suddenly hurried to the kitchen. He was filling the vase with water, and he looked at her entering the kitchen a tad nervously.

“Yeah, angel?” He asked.

“Thank you,” the thankfulness, the kindness, the overwhelming amount of gratitude in her voice almost shattered Harry. She was so grateful for the flowers.

He sighed with relief and smiled at her as he put the stems into the vase. Setting it on the counter he came to her side and slid his hands up her neck and gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “’Course, beautiful,” he hummed and pressed his lips against hers. Kissing was still kind of new—and he loved the way she nearly sighed each time their mouths connected. He smiled as he pulled away. “Sorry it took me s’long t’get y’some.”

 She bit her lip. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“Should have gotten y’flowers every time I saw you,” he smiled and rubbed his thumb on her lips. He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose before he turned his attention back to the vase and settled it in the middle of her coffee table. “Y’ready t’go?” He asked.

Since she seemed speechless, she nodded. Harry gave her a reassuring smile, took her hand, and left happy the bouquet seemed to be a hit.

*

They were flowers. Flowers. Just flowers. She wasn’t going to lose her mind over a bouquet.

But she kind of was.

Fortunately, Harry was giving her a hilarious recap of the movie that she was hardly able to stay focused on while it played. His summary allowed her to make believe she had watched the whole movie. While instead, for the better part of the last two hours, she really thought only about the tulips that Harry had placed so effortlessly in the middle of her apartment. As if the flowers didn’t mean everything in the world. Like it wasn’t earthshattering that he got her flowers.

“Are you okay, love?” He hummed and gave her hand a squeeze as they made it to the restaurant. He put his hand on her lower back as he held the door open for her and ushered her inside. His eyebrows pinched together. “Did y’like the movie?” He wondered nervously as she walked inside. Maybe his recap was overdone. But Harry enjoyed the movie and the way she seemed so engrossed and how captive she was through his summary he assumed she did. Maybe he was wrong this time about her—like he thought she didn’t like the flowers. She grabbed the next door and held it open for him but he placed his hand above her to hold it open so she could walk through first once more.

She would have enjoyed the movie if she paid any attention to it. But she didn’t. So, she fibbed a little. “I did, yeah. M’just a little tired... movies make me tired,” she explained with a breath of exhaled laughter. That wasn’t a lie. They were lucky they were in a theater because if they were at one of their apartments—and she wasn’t having a meltdown over a bouquet—then she would have fallen asleep for sure.

He frowned. “Oh, m’sorry, kitten. D’you want me t’take you home instead?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, I’ll perk up. I’ll get a coffee,” she said and reached for his hand as they stepped to the hostess stand. She squeezed it reassuringly. “I...I like our date nights,” she smiled sweetly.

Harry seemed to sigh with relief. He liked her so much. Lately, more and more, he didn’t want their date nights to end either. Of course, he would have taken her home if that was what she wanted. He would do anything for her. But he was so glad he didn’t have to. He wanted to spend forever with her. “Okay,” he said with a happy grin. Turning his attention to the host, “I have a reservation for two under Styles?” The host nodded and brought them to their table. “I know it’s not your job, but could you get us a cup of coffee, please? Cream and sugar,” he asked as he held her chair out for her. The amount of chivalry and manners in Harry made her melt every moment they were together. No one ever held a door open for. Certainly, never pulled a chair out for her. He always asked so politely for anything she wanted. It made her fall so effortlessly and heavily in love with him at every moment.

Harry sat down and placed his napkin in his lap. She kind of wished she told him she would like to go home. She would much rather enjoy the bouquet and sit with Harry on her couch until she did fall asleep. The restaurant seemed too public, even though no one was paying any mind to them. They were just a young couple on a date and there wasn’t anything to really witness.

But she was in love.

And Harry was perfect.

She wanted him all to herself. “Have y’ever eaten here?” Harry asked.

“Umm,” she looked at the name on the menu as she did wonder if she had been there before when he broached the date idea earlier in the week. As she scanned the titles of the dishes, she responded to him. “I think so—but it was a while ago.”

Smiling, he nodded. “M’a huge fan of the cauliflower.”

“We should get it then,” she answered. “If you’re willing to share,” she winked at him.

He chuckled. “Only with you, kitten.”

*

When they headed back to her apartment, he rubbed his thumb on the outside of her hand. He loved touching her—even just holding her hand made him feel like he was floating. “D’you have any plans for tomorrow, love?” He asked.

“Probably just clean and read some. Maybe go for a walk or something,” she shrugged.

“That sounds nice.”

“How about you?”

Just think about you all day. He thought to himself. “Hmm...nothing comes t’mind. Probably just lounge around.”

She nodded. “Well...you should come lounge around with me then,” she said sweetly. He turned to look at her with a grin.

“Yeah?”

A beat of silence, her lips pursed together, and she glanced up to meet his gaze briefly as she spoke finally. Harry thought she was nervous again. He didn’t like that she was nervous—he wanted her to feel utterly comfortable around him. “I really like spending time with you, Harry.”

Harry leaned against the wall beside her door and smiled at her. He couldn’t see his own face of course, but he hoped his expression was as loving as he felt. “I love spending time with you, angel,” his voice was filled with infatuation, she felt her face warm under his gaze. Gently, he reached for her and brought his hand to cup her face so he could kiss her once more. He let his lips linger against hers for a few moments and peppered a few extra kisses along her jawline. “Goodnight, kitten. Send me a text when y’want me over,” he nearly hummed as he left her standing in front of her door.

He heard her sigh near dreamily and he smirked to himself as he headed off to his car. As he turned his car over, her message popped up on his screen. Thank you again for the flowers, Harry. It was so so sweet <3

Of course, kitten. Glad you like them :) See you tomorrow, sleep well. Xx Alone with his thoughts Harry left feeling excited that she liked the tulips so much but was suddenly overcome with disappointment—but not disappointment of her. Merely because her reaction made him a bit sad.

He messaged her sister before pulling away from his parking spot. She LOVED the flowers. Thank you for the help, love! Xx

Woooo! Yay! I’m so glad I could help!

Harry was sincere in his thankfulness—she did love them. But she loved them so much for so much more than they were... and Harry felt...devastated by that fact. He wanted to know why. Wanted to know why she was so quiet when he entered the apartment. She was rendered speechless. So much so that it seemed she didn’t pay any mind to the movie. He didn’t harp on it of course, but now alone he couldn’t help but think about it. He supposed he would see her the before he knew it the very next day maybe he could figure a way to ask then.

*

It was early afternoon when she finally messaged him. Harry was waiting anxiously by his phone with nervous energy worried that she wouldn’t ask him over. Hiii I’d love to have you over if you’re not busy.

Harry thought that maybe he should have waited longer than thirty seconds to respond. It seemed desperate. I’ll be there soon, love :)

He arrived nearly fifteen minutes later, knocking on her door and smiling at her as she answered. He leaned against the wall beside the door frame just as he did the night before. Pushing off he smiled at her and wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. Kissing the top of her head, he sighed. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Hey, angel.”

“Hi Harry,” she murmured into his chest.

They were quiet for a moment before he released all but her hand and gently nudged her inside. “Didn’t know there was anything t’clean in here,” he smirked as he inspected how spotless it was (as it always was). He enjoyed the scent of the candle she lit that seemed to mix so effortlessly and perfectly with the smell of the dryer running from another room.

She giggled cutely. “It’s not...bad, y’know...I just am a bit particular. And I like to make things look nice.”

“It’s lovely, kitten,” he chuckled. “Do y’want to watch a movie? Or read...?”

“Are you...sure?” She asked.

“Well yeah. Y’said we were lounging. I’ll do whatever y’want, love,” he made himself at home on the couch and he set the book he had in his bag on the coffee table beside her bouquet of tulips that still (thankfully on Harry’s part) looked beautiful. He patted the seat beside him. After a second of uncertain hesitation, she situated herself beside him. “Jus’ glad t’be spending time with you,” he said and dropped another kiss to her temple. Turning to face her she smiled at him. Harry thought he would melt just from the warmth of her pretty lips curving up in his direction. He cupped her face delicately between his hands. He brushed his lips over hers causing that beautiful, wonderful sigh to escape her lips. Harry rested his forehead against hers. “M’in love with you,” he told her.

She all but gasped as her lips parted ever so slightly as she looked at him mere millimeters away from her face. “Really?” She whispered.

That crushed him. “Very much, beautiful,” he murmured even though he was heartbroken by how...confused she looked. Of course, Harry loved her. She was perfect. “Been loving y’more every day.” She blushed between his hands, and he kissed her nose. “Y’don’t have t’say it back,” he said softly. His heart broke a bit at the idea. “I know m’probably a bit early, but...I jus’ wanted you t’know tha—”

“I love you,” she said simply, not quickly like she was rushing to say it. It was definitive. She didn’t have to follow up with her next words, but he was so lucky and grateful she did. “So much.” Harry felt breathless and he leaned forward and kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

*

Harry was helping her with the dishes after they had eaten at his place. He was tired of having her overnight bag sitting on his bed and just a drawer of her things being the only part of her around when she wasn’t. But that wasn’t true. She was constantly in his thoughts. Even in the brief seconds he wasn’t thinking about her, the notes she left behind for him to find made his attention turn right back to her. “You okay?” She asked kindly. “You seem a little quiet and out of sorts.”

He shrugged. “Mmm,” he sighed. “Jus’...thinking.”

“Sounds scary,” she smirked after a moment.

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I would handcuff you t’myself.” She giggled and turned her attention to making sure the dishes didn’t shatter as she put them back. “D’you ever wish we lived together?” He asked.

She paused. Harry thought that maybe as good as things were going after a year, it was still too soon. Sure, they spend nearly every weekend together. They talked every day and saw each other every other day. But maybe that was enough for her. Maybe it was easier to just have a Harry-weekend and live her life during the week. Harry pursed his lips about to take back his offer—or make some excuse that it it didn’t need to be a right now thing. “You want to live with me?” She wondered.

He turned to lean against the counter, and he watched as she put the dishes away as if she did in fact live there. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I’d see you a lot more,” he reminded her. “Wouldn’t be sick missing you s’much,” he brought his hand to his mouth, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and pulled nervously at her response. “If y’don’t—”

“No, I...I really want to live with you,” she nodded. “If you want to live with me,” she reaffirmed quietly.

Harry dropped his hand from his mouth and grabbed her hand. “Yeah?” The smile on his lips grew by the second. “Of course, I do, angel. You’re the best part of m’day—I want it every day.” She looked down slightly and smiled. Harry didn’t miss the blush that painted her cheeks and he squeezed her hand. “I love you,” he reminded her.

“God, I love you, too.”

*

It was Saturday. The first one they were living together. Harry moved into her place, and she was so utterly accommodating. There was so much room for all his stuff. She made it effortless. They went through everything logistically—her bed was bigger, but Harry had a better couch. Harry wanted to hire a mover, but she was insistent that she and their friends could do it. And they did.

It was embarrassing how long Harry lay in bed. He scrolled through social media, answered a few work emails, and read some of the books he started before he went to bed last night. He would have gotten up sooner if he noticed the sound of her wandering about the apartment. It wasn’t until he heard a few dishes clink together that he realized she was home. He assumed she may have been running a few errands—she mentioned them before—things she wanted to move in for herself.

After the dish clinking, he paid closer attention to her movements and that was when he heard the distinct sound of a cleaning spray bottle and the sound of the washing machine going. Shit. He thought to himself, threw the covers back, and marched out to the kitchen.

He realized he should have started with a good morning, but it was too late. “What are y’doing?” He asked.

“Oh! Hi Harry,” she jumped at his question. She must have only half heard him through the music playing in her ears. She turned to him with a hand over her heart. She wasn’t used to Harry being around so casually. She was used to him shirtless and only in boxers, but it was the first time seeing it in their own place. He didn’t seem amused as he waited for her to answer his question. Which she nearly managed to forget while she waited for her heart to simmer down. “Uh...cleaning?”

Harry looked...annoyed? That couldn’t be right. She didn’t do anything to cause him to feel annoyed. She was quiet and cleaning all morning. It couldn’t have been an issue. Harry was just hanging out in their room and—

“You’ve been cleaning all morning, yeah?” He said already knowing the answer. She felt like she was suddenly in trouble. She nodded solemnly.

“Uh...yes,” she said quietly.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Pursing his lips he glanced around at the near spotless place—their place. Their. Place. “Can y’go sit down for me, then?” He asked gently.

“I’m sorry?”

“Jus’...don’t want y’doing t’much. I wish I was paying attention more—I thought y’were...well I don’t know what I thought y’were doing. M’sorry. I’d like t’take it from here and do the rest of the cleaning so y’can lounge around.”

She swallowed and the uneasiness in her stomach transformed a bit into something less of feeling like she was about to get into trouble and more into a worry of not...being enough. “Oh, Harry. I don’t mind,” she whispered looking at her feet. “I...I’m really used to cleaning...I kind of like it and...I don’t know. I didn’t mean to bother you. I thought I was being pretty quiet, so I’m sorry if I woke you,” she spoke to his feet the whole time and she couldn’t shake the idea that he was mad. It made her so nervous that she had already ruined their first couple of weeks of living together.

He didn’t respond but he kept his eyes glued to her face—or where her face would be if she was looking up. “Kitten,” he said so quietly, almost sadly. “Can y’look at me please?” He asked. Tears were in her eyes, and it felt more like she was in trouble once more. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Harry looked as sad as he sounded. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “M’not mad at you, m’love,” he whispered.

Harry was crushed by the relief that exhaled from her body. “No?” She whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “Angel, why would I be mad?”

“Um...” she swallowed again and smirked but there was no humor. It was just sadness. “Uh...I don’t know,” again, no humor, but a laugh escaped her lips.

“Kitten,” he hummed gently. Tears started to overwhelm her vision and she swallowed nervously against the emotion. When she sniffled, Harry finally lost the stand he was taking. The one where he was going to make her say it, because he wanted her to, and he didn’t think it was right. He pulled her forward and pressed her against his chest, her head beneath his chin and he sighed softly. “Tell me, baby,” he said rubbing his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head and hated the way her shoulders shook from the tears that fell from her eyes.

She hated that he was so handsome—especially almost entirely naked because there wasn’t even the layer of a thin t-shirt to hide the tears that she was shedding. “He was,” she sniffled like it hurt to say.

“I know,” he sighed. “But m’not him,” he reminded her. “I don’t want you t’do it all, kitten. I don’t expect you to,” he slid his hands to her face, and he crouched just a little as he peered down into her eyes. “I love you,” he promised. “You’ve done so much for so long... for so many people.” Biting her lip, she turned her head from him. He wasted not even a second tilting her chin back, so her eyes were back to him. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me,” his voice was so gentle it hurt. It made her feel sick and undeserving.

“If I don’t...then...” she sighed and closed her eyes.

“Kitten, please look at me,” he begged so quietly, she hardly heard him, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“Then...you’ll...not...want...me,” the pauses between each word hurt more than all of them said together. It meant she was thinking about every single syllable. Each word that was going to break her heart...and Harry’s.

It wasn’t the time to do it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Harry thought of the tulips. He thought of the times she thanked him for putting the laundry—the laundry that she washed and folded—away. The way she said “Really?” when he told her he loved her for the first time. There were all the times she never asked for anything from Harry but he could sense she wanted to but was...scared to do so. It made sense now. She was scared. For no reason. But still scared. Harry felt so angry toward every person that ever broke her heart and made her feel less than perfect. He hated when she hurt. “M’beautiful angel,” he sighed softly stroking his thumb over her face.

She sniveled and brought a hand to her face. “Harry,” she whimpered.

“I know, love,” he cooed softly and brought her back to his body. He let her cry for a few moments. He listened to the way she sounded like she was in pain as she let the tears fall freely and it made him so sad and upset, he could have cried himself. “Baby,” he hummed to the top of her head. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me, m’love.” She nodded against him and he sighed. “Y’don’t, kitten. Y’really don’t need t’do anything,” he promised. He hoped if he repeated it enough she would believe him.

“But—”

“No,” he shook his head. He didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t final or demanding the way he spoke. It was just a simple no. There wasn’t anything else to be said. Harry let her tears subside before he settled her on the couch and finished her cleaning. For the first time since she moved in, she relaxed on a Saturday while someone else cleaned for her.

The love she felt for Harry was overwhelming.

*

They were lounging on the couch. The TV was on, but she was turned away from it, facing Harry’s chest. With one arm looped behind his head he could see the show and with his other hand he rubbed it up and down her back. It was so peaceful and gentle. It was everything he ever wanted in a relationship. It was everything he wanted with her. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She nodded wordlessly and he smiled and continued watching his show.

“Wanna stay here forever,” she mumbled. He smirked, placing another kiss on the top of her head. He sensed there was more, but he hated pressuring her into saying more than she may have wanted to—after that first weekend she cried to him, he let her feel exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. Harry knew most of her thoughts. He of course wanted to know all of them, but he knew that she always told him anything she wanted to tell him.

“Is there more, kitten?” He asked quietly. She nodded. “Y’can tell me if y’want,” he reminded her gently.

“It’s stupid.”

He shook his head and glanced down at her perfect face and her fingers fidgeting with the cross and chain around his neck. “You’re anything but stupid, angel,” he felt her feet wiggle uncomfortably. He wanted to beg and pull the words from her lips, but he waited patiently.

“How do you know when I want to say more?” She asked instead.

“Because I adore you,” he responded instantly. She snorted a short laugh but didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Jus’ know you so well, love. Been trying t’read your mind for the two and a half years...think m’getting pretty good at it. Now jus’ have t’make sense of what y’don’t say,” he smirked and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you frustrated that I don’t tell you things?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head.  “No, course not.”

She was silent. “I think about marrying you every day,” she whispered so quietly Harry almost missed her words.

“Oh?”

“I never thought about a wedding with anyone I’ve ever dated in the past. It seemed like so much work because I would do all the planning and the everything...” she explained. “Now...God...I just...I want to show you off to everyone I know and show how wonderful you are because I know you would make the wedding of my dreams come true...because you make all my dreams come true.”

Harry was so quiet thinking about how that may not have seemed like much but to her it was—it was letting herself be vulnerable about wanting to spend her life with Harry. Without knowing how he felt—which was silly since he wanted to spend every second with her in his arms, reading her mind, or listening to her every thought. He wanted to cheer her every win and console her every loss. She was all his and he adored her so completely. He tipped her chin back. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he promised. He saw the way her face seemed to sink with relief which broke his heart, but he couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked even when she did—it left him breathless, wordless, soundless. Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak. As he always did when she left him speechless, he kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

But it would have been the best way to go.

[peachdues]

Hi Peach!

I have been trying to spend less time on Tumblr right now but I got some very bad family news and decided to treat myself to your blog and I’m really cheered up!

That teaser you posted and the fact we are getting a super emotional reunion✨second time✨ in TGW as well as a ✨first time✨ before we get to the aftermath of Tengen’s spicy lessons. Thank you for the meal

‘You’ve no idea, while I was gone I thought endlessly of you’ - I’m sorry it’s so emotional I won’t be able to take it I love him so much 😭

This may be spoiler territory (if it is tell me to shooosh) but will we see any of Giyuu’s POV thinking about reader in the infinity castle? 👀👀

AND NETHERWOOD Sanemi j*rking off and you saying we will be mad at him, reader about to leave him to go to a new village my heart is breaking, Peach you are such an awesome write - I’m still having fun trying to decipher your teaser images btw.

I was wondering between Kanae and Reader did Nemi have other girlfriends in between as he is super experienced with women

I know your inbox is sky high and even if you just see this message, I’ve seen that you’re struggling with your depression a lot recently, I hope you’re doing alright and taking time for yourself, doing what makes you happy and what helps clear your mind ❤️

-🫧🫧

(PS died when you mentioned Seelie Kyojuro as I am from Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿)

MY BELOVED BUBBLE ANON!!

Hello my love!! I adore seeing you in my inbox, always!

I’m so sorry you’re going through a rough time right now. I really hope you’re able to take some time and get some rest and indulge in a bit of self care. I’m sending you lots of hugs, and since you’re in Scotland, some tea as well. I’m partial to crumpets so if you like them, I how you get to eat them however you like them! (I’m a slather it in butter girl myself)

As for TGW — hehehehehe I’m so glad you enjoyed the teaser!! TGW has been a lot of fun to write (even if I have to stop and research some new historical fact every two seconds). Sam said it reads more like a romance story (a smutty one ofc) and that makes me happy since that’s relatively new territory to me.

As for a Giyuu Infinity Castle POV — as of right now, I don’t have plans for one! There is a brief POV from him in a flashback from the night of his and Reader’s ✨first time✨ that will appear in Part II. The first time scene occurs during the Hashira training arc/right before infinity castle begins, so you will see a certain sun breather trying to get Giyuu to train with him as he makes his way toward the shrine to see his girl and pop her cherry

As for Netherwood…

😈😈😈

I will say, I know I have y’all stressed but many of you all commented on the strength of Sanemi and Reader’s love in Part III — just remember that! And remember how hard they both fought to get back to one another. That matters!

Regarding whether Sanemi had any “girlfriends” between Kanae and Reader — I’m not so sure he did. One, because he was pretty isolated in the Wood at his cabin, guiding strangers. Two, I think his “experience” is probably less than you’re thinking — he might not have been a virgin but he also wasn’t a sex god by any means. Reader has no experience prior to Sanemi, so I imagine she’s a bit biased when it comes to him — it probably seems like he’s much more experienced than she is by comparison. I think he knows enough about the mechanics and then just goes by pure instinct.

I’ve joked with a couple of mutuals that were she to talk to Kotoha she’d probably be like “what do you MEAN it’s not normal for your partner to have a knot?? How else does he keep all that cum insane??”

Thank you for the kind message, my friend!! I love when you all pop in and ask questions about the fics or even share your reactions. It truly makes my day. And thank you for checking in! Depression has been a bitch lately but I’m focusing on trying to make it MY bitch.

Please take care of yourself! I’m sending love and light your way.

PS — my head refers to you as my “Bublé” anon — like Michael Bublé.

🤍🤍🤍

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 10

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

A/n meow meow credits to "every day" by david levithan, I am in the stages of insanity at this moment its 7 am and I haven't slept at all, not a single blink of sleep lord save me. P.s: this made me kinda sad this chapter <\3 if u want i recommend listening to "something between us" george romance 101

Day 6008

I go to the computer as soon as I wake up the next morning. But there’s no email from Hanni. I send her another apology. I send her more thanks for the day. Sometimes when you hit send, you can imagine the message going straight into the person’s heart. But other times, like this time, it feels like the words are merely falling into a well.

I head to the social-networking sites, searching for something more. I see that Austin and Hugo still list their relationship status as being together—a good sign. Jiwon’s page is locked to non-friends. So there’s proof of one thing I managed to save, and another where saving is possible.

I have to remind myself it’s not all bad.

Then there’s Haruto. The coverage of him continues. Reverend Poole is getting more testimony by the day, and the news sites are eating it up. Even the Onion is getting into the act, with the headline: WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO REVEREND POOLE: ‘THE DEVIL MADE ME EAT THE PLUM.’ If smart people are parodying it, that’s a sure sign that some less smart people are believing it.

But what can I do? Haruto wants his proof, but I’m not sure I have any to give. All I have is my word, and what kind of proof is that?

Today I’m a boy named Jeongwoo. He has diabetes, so I have a whole other layer of concerns on top of my usual ones. I’ve been diabetic a couple of times, and the first time was harrowing. Not because diabetes isn’t controllable, but because I had to rely on the body’s memories to tell me what to look out for, and how to manage it. I ended up pretending I wasn’t feeling well, just so my mother would stay at home and monitor my health with me. Now I feel I can handle it, but I am very attentive to what the body is telling me, much more so than I usually am.

Jeongwoo is full of idiosyncrasies that probably don’t seem all that idiosyncratic to him anymore. He’s a sports fanatic—he plays soccer on the JV squad, but his real love is baseball. His head is full of statistics, facts and figures extrapolated into thousands of different combinations and comparisons. In the meantime, his room is a shrine to the Beatles, and it appears that George is by far his favorite. It isn’t hard to figure out what he’s going to wear, because his entire wardrobe is blue jeans and different variations of the same button-down shirt. There are also more baseball caps than I can imagine anyone needing, but I figure he’s not allowed to wear those to school.

It’s a relief, in many ways, to be a guy who doesn’t mind riding the bus, who has friends waiting for him when he gets on, who doesn’t have to deal with anything more troubling than the fact that he ate breakfast and is still hungry.

It’s an ordinary day, and I try to lose myself in that.

But between third and fourth periods, I’m dragged right back. Because there, right in the hall, is Haruto watanabe.

At first I think I might be mistaken. There are plenty of kids who could look like Haruto. But then I see the way the other kids in the hall are reacting to him, as if he’s this walking joke. He’s trying to make it seem like he doesn’t notice the laughter, the snickers, the snarky comments. But he can’t hide how uncomfortable he is.

I think: He deserves this. He didn’t have to say a word. He could’ve just let it slide.

And I think: It’s my fault. I’m the one who did this to him.

I access Jeongwoo and find out that he and Haruto were good friends in elementary school, and are still friendly now. So it makes sense that when he passes by me, I say hello. And that he says hello back.

I sit with my friends at lunch. Some of the guys ask me about the game last night, and I answer vaguely, accessing the whole time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Haruto sit down at his own table, eating alone. I don’t remember him being friendless, just dull. But it looks as if he’s friendless now.

“I’m going to go talk to Haruto,” I tell my friends.

One of them groans. “Really? I’m so sick of him.”

“I hear he’s doing talk shows now,” another chimes in.

“You would think the devil would have more important things to do than take a Subaru for a joyride on a Saturday night.”

“Seriously.”

I pick up my tray before the conversation can go any further, and tell them I’ll see them later.

Haruto sees me coming over, but still seems surprised when I sit down with him.

“Do you mind?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “Not at all.”

I don’t know what I’m doing. I think of his last email—PROVE IT—and half expect those words to flash from his eyes, for there to be some challenge that I will have to meet. I am the proof. I am right in front of him. But he doesn’t know that.

“So how are you doing?” I ask, picking up a fry, trying to act like this is a normal lunchtime conversation between friends.

“Okay, I guess.” I get a sense that for all the attention people have been giving him, not many people have been asking him how he’s doing.

“So what’s new?”

He glances over my shoulder. “Your friends are looking at us.”

I turn around, and everyone from my old table suddenly looks anywhere but here.

“Whatever,” I say. “Don’t pay attention to them. To any of them.”

“I’m not. They don’t understand.”

“I understand. I mean, I understand that they don’t understand.”

“I know.”

“It must be pretty overwhelming, though, having everyone so interested. And all the blogs and stuff. And this reverend.”

I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But Haruto seems happy to talk. Jeongwoo is a good guy.

“Yeah, he really gets it. He knew people would give me grief. But he told me I had to be stronger. I mean, having people laugh is nothing compared to surviving a possession.”

Surviving a possession. I have never thought about what I do in those terms. I never thought my presence was something that anyone would have to survive.

Haruto sees me thinking. “What?” he asks.

“I’m just curious—what do you remember from that day?”

Now a wariness creeps into his expression.

“Why are you asking?”

“Curiosity, I guess. I’m not doubting you. Not at all. I just feel like, in all the things I’ve read and all the things people have said, I never really got to hear your side. It’s all been secondhand and thirdhand and probably seventh- or eighth-hand, so I figured I’d just come and ask you firsthand.”

I know I’m on dangerous ground here. I can’t make Jeongwoo too much of a confidant, because tomorrow will come and he might not remember anything that’s been said, and that might make Haruto suspicious. But at the same time, I want to know what he remembers.

Haruto wants to talk. I can see it. He knows he’s stepped off his own map. And while he won’t pull back, he also regrets it a little. I don’t think he ever meant for it to take over his life.

“It was a pretty normal day,” he tells me. “Nothing unusual. I was home with my parents. I did chores, that kind of thing. And then—I don’t know. Something must have happened. Because I made up this story about a school musical and borrowed their car for the night. I don’t remember the musical part—they told me that later. But there I was, driving around. And I had these … urges. Like I was being drawn somewhere.”

He pauses.

“Where?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. This is the weird part. There are a few hours there that are completely blank. I have this sense of not being in control of my body, but that’s it. I have flashes of a party, but I have no idea where, or who else was there. Then suddenly I’m being woken up by a policeman. And I haven’t drunk a sip. I haven’t done any drugs. They tested for that, you know.”

“What if you had a seizure?”

“Why would I borrow my parents’ car to have a seizure? No, there was something else in control. The reverend says I must have wrestled with the devil. Like Jacob. I must have known my body was being used for something evil, and I fought it. And then, when I won, the devil left me by the side of the road.”

He believes this. He genuinely believes this.

And I can’t tell him it’s not true. I can’t tell him what really happened. Because if I do, Jeongwoo will be in danger. I will be in danger.

“It didn’t have to be the devil,” I say.

Haruto becomes defensive. “I just know, okay? And I’m not the only one. There are lots of people out there who’ve experienced the same thing. I’ve chatted with a few of them. It’s scary how many things we have in common.”

“Are you afraid it will happen again?”

“No. I’m prepared this time. If the devil is anywhere near me, I’ll know what to do.”

I sit right there across from him and listen.

He doesn’t recognize me.

I am not the devil.

This thought is what echoes through my mind the rest of the day.

I am not the devil, but I could be.

Looking at it from afar, looking at it from a perspective like Haruto’s, I can see how scary it could be. Because what’s to stop me from doing harm? What punishment would there be if I took the pencil in my hand and gouged out the eye of the girl sitting next to me in chem class? Or worse. I could easily get away with the perfect crime. The body that committed the murder would inevitably get caught, but the murderer would go free. Why haven’t I thought of this before?

I have the potential to be the devil.

But then I think, Stop. I think, No. Because, really, does that make me any different from everyone else? Yes, I could get away with it, but certainly we all have the potential to commit the crime. We choose not to. Every single day, we choose not to. I am no different.

I am not the devil.

There is still no word from Hanni. Whether her silence is coming from her confusion or from a desire to be rid of me, I have no way of knowing.

I write to her and say, simply:

I have to see you again.

Yn

Day 6009

There’s still no word from her the next morning.

I get in the car and drive.

The car belongs to Kang taehyun. He should be in school. But I call the office pretending to be his father and say he has a doctor’s appointment.

It may last the entire day.

It’s a two-hour drive. I know I should spend it getting to know Kang taehyun, but he seems incidental to me right now. I used to inhabit lives like this all the time—testing the bare minimum I needed to know in order to get through the day. I got so good at it that I made it through a few days without accessing once. I’m sure these were very blank days for the bodies I was in, because they were extraordinarily blank days for me.

Most of the drive, I think about Hanni. How to get her back. How to keep in her good graces. How to make this work.

It’s the last part that’s the hardest.

When I get to her school, I park where Ahn yujin parked. The school day is already in full swing, so when I open the doors, I jump right into the fray. It’s between periods, and I have all of two minutes to find her.

I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know what period’s starting. I just push through the halls, looking for her. People brush by, tell me to watch where I’m going. I don’t care. There is everyone else, and there is her. I am only focused on her.

I let the universe tell me where to go. I rely purely on instinct, knowing that this kind of instinct comes from somewhere other than me, somewhere other than this body.

She is turning in to a classroom. But she stops. Looks up. Sees me.

I don’t know how to explain it. I am an island in the hall as people push around me. She is another island. I see her, and she knows exactly who I am. There is no way for her to know this. But she knows.

She walks away from the classroom, walks toward me. Another bell rings and the rest of the people drain out of the hall, leaving us alone together.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” I say.

“I thought you might come.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad.” She glances back at the classroom. “Although Lord knows you’re not good for my attendance record.”

“I’m not good for anybody’s attendance record.”

“What’s your name today?”

“Yn,” I tell her. “For you, it’s always Yn.”

She has a test next period that she can’t skip, so we stay on the school grounds. When we start to encounter other kids—kids without classes this period, kids also cutting—she grows a little more cautious.

“Is Minji in class?” I ask, to give her fear a name.

“Yeah. If she decided to go.”

We find an empty classroom and go inside. From all the Shakespearean paraphernalia hanging on the walls, I’m guessing we’re in an English classroom. Or drama.

We sit in the back row, out of sight of the window in the door.

“How did you know it was me?” I have to ask.

“The way you looked at me,” she says. “It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

This is what love does: It makes you want to rewrite the world. It makes you want to choose the characters, build the scenery, guide the plot. The person you love sits across from you, and you want to do everything in your power to make it possible, endlessly possible. And when it’s just the two of you, alone in a room, you can pretend that this is how it is, this is how it will be.

I take her hand and she doesn’t pull away. Is this because something between us has changed, or is it only because my body has changed? Is it easier for her to hold Kang taehyun’s hand?

The electricity in the air is muted. This is not going to lead to anything more than an honest conversation.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” I say again.

“I deserve part of the blame. I never should have called her.”

“What did she say? Afterward?”

“She kept calling you ‘that bitch.’ ”

“Charming.”

“I think she sensed it was a trap. I don’t know. She just knew something was off.”

“Which is probably why she passed the test.”

Hanni pulls away. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry.”

I wonder why it is that she’s strong enough to say no to me, but not strong enough to say no to her.

“What do you want to do?” I ask her.

She matches my glance perfectly. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to do whatever you feel is best for you.”

“That’s the wrong answer,” she tells me.

“Why is it the wrong answer?”

“Because it’s a lie.”

You are so close, I think. You are so close, and I can’t reach you.

“Let’s go back to my original question,” I say. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to throw everything away for something uncertain.”

“What about me is uncertain?”

She laughs. “Really? Do I have to explain it to you?”

“Besides that. You know you are the most important person I’ve ever had in my life. That’s certain.”

“In just two weeks. That’s uncertain.”

“You know more about me than anyone else does.”

“But I can’t say the same for you. Not yet.”

“You can’t deny that there’s something between us.”

“No. There is. When I saw you today—I didn’t know I’d been waiting for you until you were there. And then all of that waiting rushed through me in a second. That’s something … but I don’t know if it’s certainty.”

I know what I’m asking of you, I want to say. But I stop myself. Because I realize that would be another lie. And she’d call me on it.

She looks at the clock. “I have to get ready for my test. And you have another life to get back to.”

I can’t help myself. I ask, “Don’t you want to see me?”

She holds there for a moment. “I do. And I don’t. You would think it would make things easier, but it actually makes them harder.”

“So I shouldn’t just show up here?”

“Let’s stick to email for now. Okay?”

And just like that, the universe goes wrong. Just like that, all the enormity seems to shrink into a ball and float away from my reach.

I feel it, and she doesn’t.

Or I feel it, and she won’t.

[raphaelesbian]

"Sacando está análisis pequeño y tonto sobre el fanfic Puppet Tightly Strung (mi fanfic favorito) / Noose Loosely Wound Sobre la metáfora de que si Rafael es una marioneta, que sería K"Lo escribí con ayuda de la IA, una de esas personitas que no sabe expresarse con

Rafael es como una marioneta con hilos visibles que lo hacen bailar a su antojo. Es consciente de los hilos que lo controlan, pero no puede escapar de ellos.

Karai es como un muñeco de cuerda que cree poder moverse por sí misma, pero sin darse cuenta de que le han dado cuerda. Aunque piensa tener el control sobre sus acciones y pensamientos, en realidad está siendo controlada de manera sutil por el Gusano Cerebral. La cuerda en su espalda no es visible para ella, pero funciona igual, estando siempre presente y manipulando sus movimientos y decisiones.

Ambos son muñecos distintos que se manejan y se cuidan de forma diferente, pero al final del día, ambos fueron muñecos controlados por el mismo titiritero/juguetero.

No sé si debía sacar esta comparación de mi cabeza, pero originalmente iba a hacer un fanart con esta idea. Sin embargo, no sé hacer dibujos digitales y no soy tan buena dibujando. Pero amo este fanfic, así que de alguna manera tenía que espresar esta idea

Me preguntaba si tu tenías alguna comparación para karai ?

(Translation below the cut. I literally just used google translate so please correct me if it's wrong!)

Sorry for taking so long to reply! This was a very good question and I had to think on it. First of all, thank you so much!! I'm so happy to hear that PTS is your favorite fic, that genuinely means a lot <3 <3 I would LOVE to see any art that you make, don't sell yourself short!!! But I also love receiving analyses like this <3

I think you have a very apt analogy! I had never thought of Karai as being a wind-up doll, but it's a very good way to look at it, and the difference between the two of them. Raph's brain worm experience was very much the worms as an external force of control, vs. Karai's being internal and invisible to herself. I'm not sure I can come up with a better comparison than the one you made, to be quite honest!

Since you were sweet enough to send this really cool breakdown to me, I can offer up some more symbolism for you though! Noose Loosely Wound, the title is meant to be the inverse in a way of Puppet Tightly Strung. Where, in PTS, Raph had no choice in either his actions or the fact he was bound in the first place, in NLW it is entirely up to him. The noose is slack—if he backs up, or stays still, he'll be fine. But if he continues forward, on the path he's chosen with Karai, it tightens.

And, in this situation, Karai is kind of... not so much holding the rope, but drawing him forward. I started a drawing based on that whole concept, though it didn't get far (I couldn't get the posing down XD)

Under this kind of metaphor though, it's important to recognize that the two of them are very much tied together. As Raph's noose tightens, so does Karai's, and yet they both continue to draw the each other deeper into danger. It's a toxic, codependent relationship!

Idk if any of that was interesting 😅 But thank you again for the message!!! I really appreciated it, and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic <3 <3

"Pulling out this silly little analysis on the fanfic Puppet Tightly Strung (my favorite fanfic) / Noose Loosely Wound About the metaphor that if Rafael is a puppet, what would be K" I wrote it with the help of the AI, one of those little people who does not know how to express himself

Rafael is like a puppet with visible strings that make him dance as he pleases. He is aware of the threads that control him, but he cannot escape them.

Karai is like a wind-up doll who thinks she can move on her own, but without realizing that she has been wound up. Although she thinks she has control over her actions and thoughts, she is actually being subtly controlled by the Brain Worm. The rope on her back is not visible to her, but it works the same, always being present and manipulating her movements and decisions.

They are both different dolls that are handled and cared for differently, but at the end of the day, they were both dolls controlled by the same puppeteer/toymaker.

I don't know if I should get this comparison out of my head, but I was originally going to make fanart with this idea. However, I don't know how to do digital drawings and I'm not that good at drawing. But I love this fanfic, so I had to express this idea somehow

I was wondering if you had any comparisons for karai?

[emiensr]

Hi again!!! Could I get Madison’s opinion on Lucero? (+ Graham 4 double inferiority complex. but that’s v much optional I just got interested on what Noel said abt luce HRGRHGRRH)

it took a little bit but i am here... whew .. .!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 lucero is back again . yessssss

i mentioned madi a little bit when i answered about noel so . i will bring that back briefly..

"and he'd (Noel) probably make comparisons between Lucero and Madison (Noel's brother) as their unique magics are kind of similar !! by make comparisons i mean it likeee .. . "hey madi u should be friends with this guy !! you guys r really similar !! ! ! !" and madi would probably be like "i am so sorry about him . he (noel) is too much let me know if he gets on your nerves too much TT" "

I feel like madi would definitely respect lucero!! even though he doesn't express it as much (especially now that noel attends nrc) madi lovesssss music.. so much. hes a talented vocalist !! but he's kinda insecure since he's been compared to noel all of his life . so i can imagine him asking lucero to give him tips !!

For Graham........................ hmm . Madi doesn't really like . eccentric ? (is that the right word.......) people :( (noel trauma /j) but perhaps if they got to know each other then . madi would definitely see himself in him.......... like . he'd probably want to be friends with him ? idk........ graham so silly and cute . :o

i love ur guys sm btw. . ... . .. :D thank u for sending me a message :D

[tetrakys]

Hi. How are you? It's been a while since I have written a message here, but I've always had an eye on your profile and I wanted to thank both of you and Chino from the bottom of my heart for giving us the ANE story of Eldarya we all deserved to have, our little hearts are less heartbroken :))

Now I am wondering just as much as the others in the community how new gen candy is gonna be like. 😂😂😂

Truth be told, I am a little worried that no matter if they're gonna try their best or not, there will be a though crowd to impress due to recent events and I don't blame anyone for being skeptic, it will be hard to beat the original MCL that we all love and grew up with. I never tried Moonlight lovers or Uncoven, so IDK why they've never been an interesting subject of interest. Henri's Secret sincerely should have been left like that, only with the first season, the second one was a waste of time and money.

Getting back to New Gen, unfortunately, because of the comparison that will be between this and the previous series, the risk of not being successful is pretty high and I really hope it won't happen. It will be hard for them to have another failed project like Eldarya ended up for example. I never understood why I loved Eldarya TO so much (do you know how to answer that question for yourself?). I discovered it very late, despite MCL, but it still means so much to me and I'm sad that it's probably gonna end this way, with these 20 failed chapters. 💔

To answer my question, maybe because everything just made sense and worked together perfectly: the plot, the characters, the references, the harsher topics which made it real and somehow relatable.

Anyways, keep up with the good work girl and I will be back with a feedback that you will be asking for or not after finishing the story (I love writing, so who cares as long as I'm enjoying myself 😅). Sending love and hugs to you and the community. 🫶

Hello! Lovely to see you 💕 thank you for following me and the kind message, let me answer everything (long post, I'm putting it under the cut).

About New Gen:

You're very right, it's gonna be hard to impress people, I'm fully expecting part of the fandom to claim that the new LIs aren't as good as the old ones for the simple fact that there's no replacing your first love. I'm also expecting some people to hate on the game just because it's Beemoov and they would hate the company even if they found the cure for HIV. But I also thing that the game has the potential to bring a breath of fresh air to the fandom. Lots of people have left and haven't come back even to play Alternate Life, maybe a similar game but with a new story and new characters will make tired people and new people interested. Personally I just love Chino's characters, the way she brings life to them, in her 3 games I've managed to fall in love every single time so I'm fully prepared to do it again. I've never been able to get so attached to other games' characters even if I enjoyed them. I guess at the end of the day it's just a matter of personal preferences, her writing just click with me. Which brings me to Eldarya...

About Eldarya TO/ANE:

Why I loved Eldarya TO? 🤔 Firstly, as I mentioned before, I enjoyed the characters even the secondary ones, even the ones I hated (*cough*Miiko*cough*), I just got attached to them. I also started playing Eldarya late, it was 2018 or 2019, when the game first came out it was in French only and then I never kept up with it. Then I joined Tumblr, saw people playing and decided to play as well. I started with Nevra because he was the one dressed in all black and looked a little like a bad boy, turns out he was the ladies' man route instead, not exactly my type but I am still attached to him as he was my first. While I was playing his route I got super invested in wanting to tame Ezarel, he was such a bish, so I had to make him fall for me. In the end I got over him the moment I won the challenge and I got him lol, I spent the rest of his route trying to get with Lance with no success, obviously. After that I tried Leiftan because he was clearly in my eyes the "main guy" but I'm a shallow person when I play these games and I've never been able to move past his clothes, hair and general fakeness. I love him though, when he's his real daemonic self, just not my perfect type. Then I played Valkyon because he was the last one left and oh boy... I fell for him hard. I still bonk myself for having left him for last. However, I think we all know here that my one true love is his brother and I've spent years trying to have him to end up with... whatever his ANE version is. As I said I love Chino's characters, and since Eldarya was given to another creator you can SEE that the characters aren't the same. I've seen a couple of people upset when I say that Eldarya's characters aren't the same, they claim that the way they are now is a natural consequence of what they lived through those 7 years time lapse and NO I'm sorry I will never be able to agree with this. Game characters' aren't real people, they exist only in the way their creator makes them exist, if the creator changes they are very literally the definition of different people. ANE LIs are what ANE writer and creator see them as, which is not what TO writer and creator saw them as. It's really, quite literally, a different game. Including the way dialogues and events are written. I LOVED TO's darker themes and I loved the potion plot. TO wasn't a perfect game by any means but it made me feel things, now I just feel nothing when I play Eldarya. It makes me really sad. (And I haven't managed to keep playing since episode 14 :( )

About The Dragon's Call:

Thank you for liking our story 💕💕 writing it is cathartic for me, not only because of the game, but also because life has been a bit tough this past year and I'm fully aware Chino is indulging me only because she cares (and also cares about all the players who love Eldarya of course). I want to get to the point where I have Lance's (and Valkyon's) route complete and I can read it whenever I feel like I miss him. Honestly I wish someone else would've written it so I could've just enjoy it as a reader 😂 but at least I hope I'm doing the characters justice. And yes please come back to give me feedback whenever you want I really appreciate it! 💕

Sorry for the loooong rambling, hope to see you around here again 😊

[janzoo]

Pinned Blog Info Post

Updated: April 21/2024 (re: ask/tag memes)

Special messages: -

Hello! I’m Janzoo.😄 30+, she/they. This is first and foremost a fandom blog, though just about anything goes. There will be well-tagged NSFW content here sometimes, mainly in the form of writing. I don’t role-play on Tumblr much, if at all. I like blue so I use blue hearts. I like emojis and reaction images so expect lots of those too.

I’m not going to make some kind of DNI - let’s just all chill and not be assholes, okay? 😅  Also, trans/aro/ace people are valid. 💙

You may send/tag me in MOST memes. I’ll do my best to respond/fulfill them but if I don’t, that’s not a reflection of anything...sometimes things just fall through the cracks. HOWEVER, please do not send me chain mail-esque memes - ex. “send this to ten more people to show you appreciate them”. I won’t get snippy if you do but I will not be passing it along.

You can also find me on AO3. And here’s my Ko-fi. 

More info on sideblogs and tagging under the readmore: 

My sideblogs which you may see me reblogging to (and you’re free to follow): 

@fandomxween​ is a Halloween-themed/-related fandom collection for fellow Halloweenies. More info here!👻

@polickticks is where I reblog political content, news, etc. This is my balance of keeping up with the world without making my main blog a downer.🙃

@janzaesthetics is, as the name implies, an aesthetics collection. It’s mostly nature photos and glowy things.

Though I post my writing here first, I reblog it to janzoowrites as a catalogue of just my own work.

Special tags of note: 

“nsfw” for the usual. I use this for non-sexual nudity too. “nsfw kinda” is for text or something suggestive but not outright damning in the workplace. “very nsfw” is just for emphasis and always paired with “nsfw”, kind of like a “dead dove” idea. Maybe useless but I do it anyway. 🤷‍♀️

Spoilers are tagged with the same series they’re from. “star wars” and “star wars spoilers”, “tlou show” and “tlou show spoilers”, etc.

I’m working on a better trigger tagging system but in the meantime if there’s something you want me to tag for let me know. I do not post hard gore/body horror/etc. (You can check those tags if you want to see the worst of what gets through my filter but it’s pretty mild by comparison, and few and far between.)

I think that about covers it. Thanks for stopping by. 😄

[alwida10]

Hi. I'm not sure what's going on right now, I just saw you had a mean anon lately and it seems you're going through hard times.

I will admit I've definitively made some assumptions about you and not always been the nicest when discussing some posts of yours with friends. But just because I found some things you said offensive doesn't mean I think you are a bad person. Words we say often take a life of their own in other poeple's head. Also anger and hurt makes us all agressive and without a filter. On both sides.

There is a lot of gossip in the Loki fandom, but behind the vitriol, some poeple care about you and are genuinely worried when things seem hard. Whether it's about you or other "antis" recieving hate anons (sadly the whole point of anons is that we'll never know for sure who sent them). We're also not stupid, a lot of poeple who are angry have been through hell in their life and healing will always be far more important than fandom wank.

I just wanted to say you deserve to feel safe and to have a space where you can express yourself, even if it won't make everyone happy. Poeple are free to block you, or ignore your posts if they end up in their recommended section. Nothing has ever been achieve with hate and petty games.

Sending you my best wishes.

A cowardly anon ^^

Thank you! This message made me cry, in a good way. 💚 thank you for your kindness!

And yes, you are right in many ways. We never know who the anons are, and I admit that in my mind I tend to conflate them, assuming most are from one single person, who just never knows when to stop.

When I first came to tumblr, I found the anon-function weird. I thought “we are on the internet. We are already anonymous!”, but I guess that’s not entirely true. While this sphere is (more or less) separated from our offline life, nobody is free from expectations of their mutuals, followers, and even critics. And since we all get trained to act according to the expectations people have, some things would never get said without the anon function. But being anonymous brings forth how we really are in that moment. And hurt, stress or rage has made me say bad things in the past, too. That said, at most times I DO mourn the split in the fandom, and I am aware that echo chambers make opinions grow more extreme. So, should you come across something I have written which is offensive, please let me know, so I can check if I’m a victim of my own rage once more, worded things badly, or applied faulty reasoning. You can always point me this post if you fear a harsh answer, so I will remember I, too, was gifted with kindness.

I am sure we all just wished the fandom wasn’t so torn apart and everyone could thrive in the community. I admit, the only other fandom I participated in was supernatural, so my expertise isn’t the best, but I would bet any day that the Loki fandom is full of people who take strength from his story for their own healing and growth. So, in a way it’s even more heartbreaking that there is so much fighting about him. Because interpretations of his motives and morality are never just that. They can always be perceived as an invalidation of another person’s suffering or healing or hopes. And while you might be able to cope with an attack of an fictional story, an attack of one’s trauma or hope is much more personal.

So, yeah. It’s always better to take a step back, remember this isn’t about oneself alone, and that beyond the screen other people are humans, too, and deserve the benefit of a doubt. 💚

Also, i kinda think it’s a shame there is so little communication between the “two sides”. The last debate opened a new perspective for me, and helped me to put some things back into context. Sometimes I wish for a friend on “the other side” to discuss things in a appreciative way, where no one tries to convince the other or feels the need to defend their view. Just a comparison of perspectives, to open up new points nobody considered yet. There could be a lot of cool meta buried there. But alas, I guess the topic is too close to the heart for most of us, and I don’t exclude myself there.

[zimithrus1]

For the "I love you" Prompts: Number 4 with Zack/Cloud

Send me a platonic or romantic relationship and a number and I'll write a short fic!

4. "I don't mind."

Cloud's PHS goes off just as he heads out of his flat, the sound of a tiny puppy yip echoed from his pocket--Zack. He's the only one with that notification sound installed on his PHS. He takes it from his pocket as he walks down the hall, flipping it open to see the message inside with a soft smile.

But when he skims through the text he stops walking just as he gets close to the elevator, smile falling.

'I'm real sorry Spike, I've come down with something pretty nasty so going to the movies probably wouldn't be a good idea right now'. Complete with a ':c' following the statement.

Well that blows. They've been planning to see this movie since they released the first trailer like 5 months ago! They requested advance time off missions and drills so they could see it together, go on a little date. (Which they hadn't gotten to do in what felt like 18 eternities as it's hard for a freshly appointed 3rd Class to have a schedule lined up with a seasoned 1st Class SOLDIER.)

Cloud sighs and puts his phone back into the pocket of his loose black jeans. He spins on his heel and puts his hand back on the handle of his door. But he stops and hums.

Y'know what, he's got an even better idea than not seeing the movie. But first, a quick stop to the convenience store.

(Page break)

Out of all the things Zack was expecting to hear while he laid in bed, a fist pounding against the front door to his flat was not one of them. He slowly lifts his head from his cocoon of blankets and pillows, as though if he sits up and looks around his bedroom he'll magically know who's banging on his door.

But it doesn't take long for a voice to resound.

"It's Cloud, I'm coming in." And the door unlocks with a beep and a click.

Wait, Cloud? But- didn't he get his text? There's no way he can go to a movie with a fever and aches and congestion! Even so, he goes to get out of his bed all things despite to tell him in person, just in case he might've missed the notification.

Before he even has a chance to push the blankets off him, Cloud appears right outside his bedroom door.

"You look awful." He smiles.

So sassy. But Zack loves it. Makes a smile of his own bloom across his face (though he's sure his looks queasy in comparison).

"Brought you a care package."

Cloud holds up a plastic bag in his right hand a little higher, and through the hazy white plastic Zack can make out some small, boxy lumps. He closes the distance between them and sits right next to him against his blanket swarmed bed.

"So you got my message after all?" He asks with a voice more suited for a crossbred offspring of a horse and a frog.

"Yeah." He says as he starts pulling things out of the sack. "We haven't been able to see each other in 2 months thanks to our schedules, so I wasn't about to let this stop me."

Somehow Zack feels guilty about that. "Sorry." He croaks.

"It's okay, it happens." Cloud flashes him a quick grin to quell his worries. "I got you some pain relievers, cough syrup, nasal decongestant, some hot and cold patches, cough drops too, and a chocolate bar from the candy section. I know how much you love those Canyoncrunch bars." He points to each thing he pulled out of the bag, labeling them all as he goes.

"You really didn't have to do this for me, Cloud, really." Zack laughs as a blush paints his already flushed face a little redder. Normally he's the one spoiling and doting on Cloud, so it feels different when the roles are reversed.

"No, but I wanted to. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't take care of you the same way you do for me?"

Cloud actually leans in and kisses him on the cheek, despite his sickness.

"C-Cloud, if you aren't careful you're gonna catch what I caught..." Zack blushes fiercer and clears his throat.

"I don't mind." Cloud smiles warm enough to melt ice. "As long as we get to spend some time together, it doesn't bother me."

Zack smiles and the blush recedes.

Though 3 days later, Zack finds himself over at Cloud's flat, holding him close while Cloud's wrapped up in blankets sporting the same fever, aches, and congestion he had already. The only difference is he's spoon-feeding him ice-cream constantly to try and fight off his much higher temperature and soothe his sore throat. 3rd Classes aren't as impervious to illnesses as 1sts after all.

And when Cloud asked him if he was okay with constantly getting him ice cream from the one place 10 miles away that has his favorite flavor, Zack smiled, kissed him, and said,

"I don't mind."

Thank you for the ask!! 💚 This one was definitely a challenge for me as I say 'I don't mind' on the daily so much that I'm like 'How do I make this cute and not apologetic or dismissive???' XD

[thequibblah]

hii it’s the anon that sends u a message once in a blue moon but every time i do i literally am CRYING about how good ct is… doing a reread and just crying at this introduction of germaine’s internal struggle:

“She was not like Dorcas, who was principled and sweet and outraged by injustice. She was not like Mary, who was flamboyant and self-assured and certain of her dreams. She was not like Lily, who was passionate and vivacious and believed in good. Germaine saw herself as a happy medium, flexible enough to stretch sympathetically between her friends. But— What does it mean that I define myself in comparison to them? Nothing. She was only seventeen and she was finding her way.”

i just can’t get over how much depth you’ve given your characters and not through problems that seem other-worldly or too big, they’re all problems that WE face or faced as regular teenagers and can relate to, and i think that’s why your writing often brings me to tears and what makes it sooo good :( just the feeling of being known and understood thru these characters we have such an attachment to. ily and i love ct!!!

hi hello 🥹🥹🥹🥹 thank you so much for the kind words, ahhh!! you’re so sweet!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[sparring-hyena]

Ok i got a request . Remember how Chris Kait and James got those special 1 chapter episodes where they go on special dates. It would be cool to see Beccas. So its set after Book 3. Instead of going to the festival with the gang Mc decides to visit Becca first at her lakehouse and then they go to the festival just her and Becca. They ll share lots of sweet moments at the pool more fun at the concert and later on at home things can get a bit heated.

Becca reaches for her phone with the intent to scroll through her social feeds. really, she does. opening her messaging app is a reflex. opening the short text thread she has with Alex is just an accident. and typing out a hey, what’re you up to? is… a mistake? some kind of predetermined notion written into the fabric of reality?

whatever. it doesn’t matter what it is. no, what matters is that she does, send a text to Alex that is, and that she tosses her phone to the other side of couch as soon as she hits send, almost like it burns her hands.

she stares at her phone, waits for it to react to what she just did—maybe it’ll implode. she’s almost surprised when her phone buzzes a few minutes later. and she’ll never admit to just how fast she jumps forward to snatch it up.

it’s Alex. Alex responded. okay. cool cool cool.

my friends and i are on a road trip. we’ve just passed into California. you?

the you? twists itself into Becca’s mind. slips into every nook and cranny until it’s she can think and feel, and her heart is going ba-dum ba-dum and she definitely can’t just say oh, not much. just by myself at my dad’s lake house because he’s trying to buy my love now that my parents are getting divorced. except she does say that. word for word. it tumbles from her mind onto her phone and then she hits send and holds her breath in her throat as she waits for Alex’s response.

want some company then?

and what really surprised Becca is that she answers with yes.

-

in the days leading up to Alex’s arrival she cleans. not that there’s much to clean—the house is big, and she’s kept to one small part of it. she also rifles through her closet and decides, an hour before Alex is due to arrive, that she doesn’t have anything to wear. the clothes laying forgotten on her bed disagree, but she ignores that and feels the anxiety twist itself around her.

and then her phone buzzes and there’s a knock at the door. Alex is here. Alex is early.

shit.

she tosses on the first thing she can grab and runs her hands through her hair before darting down to the front door.

when Becca opens the door, Alex greets her with a warm smile that simultaneously calms and frightens. frightens, because how does her smile have such an effect on me. they stand awkwardly in the doorway until Alex clears her throat and asks, “did you wanna invite me in?”

“right.” Becca steps aside and motions Alex in.

Alex whistles as she looks around, still holding her bag in front of her. “nice place.”

Becca shrugs, because it is nice, stunning really, but the house doesn’t feel quite right—it never really has. it’s big and empty and somehow always manages to be cold even during summer.

“come on, i’ll show you around.”

-

it’s as they walk through the house that Becca realises she’s not quite sure what they are. they aren’t enemies, and now she wonders if they ever actually were. and they definitely aren’t dating. dating implies some level of commitment that Becca doubts she could ever really give. and then there would be intimacy and comfort and little inside jokes that they’d share quiet smiles over.

but that doesn’t matter anyway because she would never want to date Alex—never ever. dating Alex would be complicated and messy and she has a reputation and expectations that Alex doesn’t fit and—

“you doin’ alright there?”

“huh?” Becca shakes the thoughts away.

Alex tilts her head to the side and offers a small curious smile that manages to worm its way into Becca’s heart and find a place for itself amidst all the dark twisty tendrils that have been growing with each passing day.

“why are you looking at me like that?” Becca asks, her tone both defensive and amused.

“like what?”

“like you’re trying to read my mind.”

“i’m not, i just—” Alex sighs and Becca suddenly wonders what she’d been about to say. “you mentioned swimming?”

“swimming, right.” Becca knows a digression when she hears one, but she points to a room Alex can get changed in and says she’ll meet her downstairs.

-

Becca doesn’t actually swim. she sits on the edge of the dock beneath the dying afternoon sun and traces the water with her toes. Alex swims though, splashes around for a short while and tries to gently prod Becca in too. but Becca holds firm and insists that she’s more than happy on the dock.

Alex climbs out later, dripping water onto the dock and creating a small puddle that manages to spread and reach Becca’s leg. she pretends Alex dripping water on her irritates her and pretends to hate it when she flicks water at her.

Alex sits down beside her, and Becca thinks she’s waiting for her to break the silence that’s comfortably settled between them.

“do you wanna talk about it?” Alex finally asks.

Becca wonders which it they’re talking about—her parents’ divorce or the fact that some fundamental piece of their relationship or friendship or whatever they are, is changing. maybe it’s both. maybe it’s neither.

“thank you for visiting me,” she says instead. “i’m sure it pales in comparison to a road trip with your friends.”

“hardly.” Alex smiles and nudges Becca’s shoulder with her own. “we were all cramped in a van that doesn’t have working a/c. besides, i like hanging out with you, it’s…”

Becca raises her eyebrows, curious and nudging Alex on.

“easy.”

Becca laughs, like, full body laughs. never in her life has she been described as easy to be around.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing, nothing.” Becca tries to suppress her laughter, but it doesn’t work.

“i was trying to be nice.” Alex makes a show of being hurt, even makes to leave, but the smile on her face tells a very different story.

“no, sorry.” Becca places her hand gently on Alex’s arm; wants her to believe the sincerity behind her words. “it was nice and i didn’t mean to laugh. i’ve just never been described as easy before, and with everything going on, i guess it’s been a while since something’s made me laugh.”

“oh.” Alex settles on the dock again and Becca’s hand remains on her arm. “are you talking with your parents much?”

Becca shrugs. “mom’s trying. i think we’re both just having a hard time adjusting to speaking to each other. it’s been good but strange.”

“and your dad?”

Becca barks out a laugh. “i think he’s just as clueless. only difference is he’s not making much of an effort. my sister and i were supposed to spend some time with him here over the summer. look how that turned out.”

“i’m sorry.”

“i don’t need pity—”

“i wasn’t pitying you.”

“i know, but it’s just…”

“just…?”

and Alex’s arm is suddenly very warm beneath Becca’s hand. warm and solid and grounding and— they’ve done this before. played this game where they share their insecurities and offer something dangerously close to companionship.

it won’t end well, she thinks, but her heart thumps along and tells her to indulge just this once. what’s one more time anyway?

“we shouldn’t,” Becca breathes, because one of them needs to say it.

“probably,” Alex agrees, but neither of them move to put some space between them.

“but we could.”

“definitely.”

“it would be” —amazing is the word she thinks— “fun,” is the word she says with a playful lilt to her voice that she hopes distracts from the longing want she can feel in her bones.

they’re closer now, faces no more than a couple inches apart, and the air around them feels stiff somehow, like the world around them took one massive breath and is now waiting for them to do something about the balloon of tension that’s been slowly inflating for months.

and then the balloon bursts, and there’s kissing and moaning and wandering hands and— oh god, Becca suddenly remembers why she wanted to do this again. it feels like electricity zapping up and down her body. it hurts and it heals, and she wonders if they’ll ever do this again—silently hopes that they will.

she pulls Alex closer, decides that it’s still not enough—some tiny part of her heart hums and says that it never will be—and moves to straddle her lap and thread her fingers through her hair.

“here?” Alex asks between frantic and hurried kisses.

Becca hums and urges Alex’s hands further down her body.

it happens quickly after that. the coil inside Becca tightens each time Alex moves her fingers and moans her name and nips at her neck and— it snaps. the coil snaps and its wonderful and horrible and Becca is suddenly acutely aware of the place Alex holds in her heart.

and that— it terrifies her, because for the first time in her life she has no idea how it will go.

-

they head back up to the house not long later, stumbling through the first floor and upstairs as they share laughs and kisses. and when they reach the foot of the bed, Becca pushes Alex back and is quick to return the favour.

-

Becca wakes early in the morning on her side and facing Alex who’s fast asleep and completely dead to the world. she takes this moment, this brief interlude, to consider her next move.

the last time they did this, she left as soon as she woke up. though leaving isn’t exactly an option right now, and Becca finds that even if it were, leaving is the last thing she wants to do.

she brings her hand to Alex’s face and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. the gesture, though small, is enough to cause Alex to stir.

“hi,” Alex says, her voice heavy with sleep and eyes barely open.

“hi.”

“you were right,” she says, sporting a tired grin, “it was fun.”

Becca hums and shifts closer to Alex, tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder. “how long can you stay?”

“how long do you want me to stay?”

“i asked you first.”

“so?”

“humour me.”

their back-and-forth is light, airy. it’s how they usually talk. but there’s insecurity that hides beneath it all. insecurity that itches to be breathed into the world and soothed away.

“well, my friends and i were going to the aurora music festival tomorrow.”

“oh.”

“but maybe, if you wanted to, you could come with?”

“are you asking me to go with you?”

“i asked you first.”

Becca smacks Alex’s shoulder but can’t stop the smile on her face. “yes, i want to go.”

“good” —Alex leans in then, stops only when their lips are just about to touch— “because i really want you to come with me.”

“is that so?”

Alex hums and brings their lips together in a slow and easy kiss that Becca’s all too happy to get lost in.

“wait, hang on.” Alex pulls away, a suddenly serious expression on her face. “you didn’t tell me how long you wanted me to stay.”

forever is the word she thinks, but she just smiles and brings their lips together again, and she thinks that Alex might just understand.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 3 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

-

Lan Xichen had the strangest feeling that something was going to happen.

He wouldn’t pretend that he had a touch of foresight – life had shown him the hard way how completely he lacked any sorts of skill in that direction– and there was nothing altogether unusual about anything that had happened in the past few days of the war. Lan Xichen was helping with so much more now than he had during the Sunshot Campaign, when he’d been able to be a little above it all as a mere courtier or a single but powerful scouting force, thanks in large part to his sect’s then-existing weakness and Nie Mingjue’s utter brilliance. Nowadays he had to deal with the endless drudgery of war administration: the clean-up before and after battles, the mechanics of feeding and supplying all the cultivators in their front lines, planning their next move and the next after that…

Nie Huaisang had received a message and stormed out, looking annoyed, but that wasn’t new, either.

There were many demands on his time, after all. Nie Huaisang might not have much experience at war on a personal basis, having largely (and willingly) been sidelined during the Sunshot Campaign, but he was a sharp study and an excellent judge of people. He managed their generals – selected for merit without any attention to what sect they were from, if any – with an iron fist that rivaled his control over his own disciples, and on top of the war there was also his extensive network of spies, his constant scrutiny of their supply lines, his supervision of internecine disputes between the sects…

The divisions between us will be the first place Jin Guangshan strikes, he had said – snarled, rather – at the last meeting between sect leaders, taking to task men twice his age without so much as the blink of an eye. I want this petty bullshit between you resolved, now, and I don’t care how many generations you’ve been fighting over it. If you don’t fix it, I’ll fix it for you, and I assure you that neither of you want that.

They’d resolved it.

After all, Nie Huaisang was right: no one wanted him to step in.  

It was a little ironic, Lan Xichen thought. The entire war had started because of Jin Guangshan’s lust for power, his desire to be called Chief Cultivator – a term Nie Huaisang denounced, as Nie Mingjue had before him – and now it was Nie Huaisang to whom the cultivation world deferred without question.

People were afraid of him.

It still seemed a little ridiculous to Lan Xichen, as if at any moment someone would step in and say that it was all a joke that they’d all been taken in by. That Nie Huaisang was still the excitable little roly-poly puppy he’d always been, Lan Xichen’s good friend’s little brother: stubborn and cute and smarter than he pretended to be, interested in nothing but his art and his fans and his clothing, lazy and indolent and unabashedly happy in a way that had brightened Lan Xichen’s day to see, every time.

He wasn’t, though. And it was Lan Xichen that had helped make him into what he was now.

During his travels, he’d heard cultivators in the field referring to Nie Huaisang as the Pallbearer, obliquely calling him the virtuous mourner as if he were a death-god whose name should not be directly uttered lest it draw his attention – it wasn’t anything Nie Huaisang had accepted as a personal title, utterly inauspicious as it was, but if he didn’t take one soon, he’d be stuck with it. If he wasn’t already.

People were simply uncomfortable calling him Nie-er-gongzi the way they had before, and Lan Xichen didn’t blame them one bit – the Nie-er-gongzi of the past was unrecognizable in the man of today.

But neither could he blame Nie Huaisang for refusing the title of Sect Leader Nie as long as his brother still had a single spark of life in his body.

Nie Mingjue…

Lan Xichen missed him terribly.

He knew he didn’t have the right to – Nie Huaisang had made that clear enough – but he did. He missed his old friend, with his confidence and his kindness and his goodness. He missed having a confidant who esteemed him and who trusted him, who shared everything with him without a moment’s hesitation, who always tried his best and honored those who did the same.

He’d once, and only once, caught a brief glimpse of Nie Mingjue after everything had happened: he’d been in bed, pale as death, face quiet and slack and peaceful in a way it never was, with doctors surrounding him. At the time, they were working furiously to save his life as Nie Huaisang paced furiously outside the door, refusing food and only drinking enough water to replenish the tears that streamed endlessly down his face.

That had been early on, before they’d realized Nie Mingjue had lapsed into a deep coma from which there was no telling when or if he would awake and, even if he did, in what state he would be left in. That had been before Nie Huaisang had banned Lan Xichen from the Unclean Realm…banned everyone, really, hosting them anywhere else he could rather than allow them anywhere near his brother when he was vulnerable.

Before he’d slowly started giving up hope. Before they all had.

It’d been years, after all. Surely if Nie Mingjue’s indomitable strength could heal him, it would have done so by now?

Of course, even if Nie Mingjue did eventually wake up, it wasn’t as if Lan Xichen would get his friend back the way it had once been. Nie Mingjue had always been righteous to the point of rigidity, willing to make the hard choices to punish those who had done wrong no matter their identity, and Lan Xichen had failed him so thoroughly, so completely…

Guiltily, too, he knew that if Nie Mingjue woke up, he’d undoubtedly step up as general once more, coordinating everything the way he had during the Sunshot Campaign – and that meant they wouldn’t need to rely on Lan Xichen’s assistance anymore.

Nie Huaisang had made that clear, too.

Whoever had raised his ire by sending him that message that had pulled him away from their work together…well, they’d better have a very good excuse. Nie Huaisang hated to be interrupted, his temper as short as anyone in his family’s had ever been, and his tongue was more poisonous than Jiang Cheng’s.

Lan Xichen would know, being its most frequent target.

Nie Huaisang had never forgiven Lan Xichen in his part in preserving Jin Guangyao’s life, and lacking the actual assassin to rend to bits, he had grimly decided to make do with the accomplice. He needled Lan Xichen at every instance, taunting him with his failures and deficiencies, making nasty jibes and underhanded remarks that cut deep – and Lan Xichen deserved every single one of them.

Back then, it had been Lan Xichen who had hesitated, refusing to believe the truth. Refusing to believe that his then (and, perhaps, still) beloved A-Yao could ever do such terrible things of which he had been accused, either at his time in the Nightless City or the assassination of Nie Mingjue – he had pushed back, prevaricated, insisted on investigating more, finding out more…in the end the truth had come out in all its ugly wretched filthy glory and the only thing his foot-dragging and indecisiveness that he’d pretended was a devotion to justice had gotten him was Nie Huaisang’s endless disdain.

The worst of it, though, wasn’t the humiliation or the insults, nor his feelings of failure and guilt.

No, it was the way his foolish heart raced at how Nie Huaisang looked now, with all restraint a distant memory – the sharp Nie features on his delicate face turning from blurred to clear as the childhood fat on his cheeks melted away; the intelligence that flashed in his eyes, now unhidden by any pretense or indifference; the utter brilliance in the casual way he rattled off orders, effortlessly taking command without permitting any backtalk; the way he moved, a mixture of the martial general and a dancer’s grace; the way everything about him perfectly fit to Lan Xichen’s taste –

He really was a fool.

He had a crush on you for years, Lan Xichen reminded himself. Nie Mingjue even told you about it, he’d even approved of it back then if only you were interested, and yet you pretended you knew nothing. But now, now when he hates you, despises you, sees you as little better than a worm to crush beneath his heel, now is when you finally choose to see what’s always been there?

He hadn’t said anything to Nie Huaisang about it, of course. There wasn’t any point when Nie Huaisang already thought of him in the worst possible terms – weakling, willfully blind, murderer – and he could easily imagine how it might go, if he ever tried anything.

(“I heard some soldiers say that I resemble Jin Guangyao,” Nie Huaisang had mused one day, his hands locked behind his back as he looked down at their troops training in the field. His voice was cold as ice and sharp as a blade. “Though there’s some disagreement as to whether it’s my face or the devious turns of my mind that bring up the comparison. I thought I’d ask you, Zewu-jun, you being the expert and all – am I a good replacement? A suitable stand-in? If I smile at you enough times, will you do whatever I say without question, the way you did for him?”

I would already do anything for you, Lan Xichen had thought at the time, full of sorrow. In a way that goes well beyond what I felt for him. But even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?)

No, it was clear enough to Lan Xichen that his father’s blood ran strong in him, dooming him to only love where he was not loved in return, and to finally realize the strength of that love only when it was too late.  At least it seemed that Lan Wangji had escaped that fate with Wei Wuxian, their earlier misunderstandings aside.

A moment later, as if summoned by his thoughts, the man himself appeared.

“Oh, Zewu-jun, there you are! Have you seen Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, popping his head in through the door. Lan Wangji was a few steps behind him, waiting patiently as he always did – he was always patient with Wei Wuxian, gentle in a manner that reminded Lan Xichen of the way he sometimes cared for the wild rabbits back at the Cloud Recesses.

They hadn’t spoken much, of late. Lan Wangji had understood Lan Xichen’s weakness and had not held it against him, but that didn’t mean Lan Xichen had forgiven himself, nor did it lessen the sting of shame he felt over events he felt must have lost him the respect of his younger brother, no matter how Lan Wangji denied it – it was easier to focus on matters of war.

“He was called away suddenly, I’m afraid,” Lan Xichen said. “He left a few shichen ago, but he said he’d be back in time for dinner.”

“Dinner has already passed,” Lan Wangji said, his voice neutral – an obvious reprimand for Lan Xichen for having not noticed, shaded with concern over the way Lan Xichen didn’t always eat the way he should. He wouldn’t be hurt by it, he practiced inedia the way they all did, of course, but that didn’t mean he should miss meals if he didn’t have to. “He has not yet returned?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. But if it’s that late, he should be back soon. Do you need him for something urgent?”

“As urgent as anything else in this war,” Wei Wuxian said with a shrug. “If you see him, let us know.”

“Why do you assume I’ll see him first?” Lan Xichen asked, a little amused, but Wei Wuxian blinked at him as if he’d said something foolish.

“He always comes to you first,” he said. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

Lan Xichen’s breath caught briefly – no, he hadn’t noticed, and his mind immediately started to race, his heart growing warm…but no. He only was being foolish again. As the army’s courier, its administrator, Lan Xichen was the obvious person for Nie Huaisang to contact if he wanted to get his plans spread out to everyone as soon as possible.

There didn’t have to be anything more to it than that.

“So when he arrives, if you could just tell him –”

“No need,” Lan Wangji interrupted. “He is approaching.”

A few moments later, and it was clear from the footsteps that Lan Wangji was right, as always – when Lan Wangji was younger, Lan Xichen used to tease him about having the ears of a bat, capable of detecting everything, and sometimes he really thought it might be true.

They waited, and the door opened, and Lan Xichen instinctively turned away as Nie Huaisang let himself in, not wanting to see those hard eyes turn even harder, the instinctive sneer that rose to Nie Huaisang’s lips at the sight of him that it always took him an extra moment to suppress.

“Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, his voice rising a register in his shock. “What happened?”

Lan Xichen turned back at once, suddenly cold all over in terror. Had Nie Huaisang been injured? Some ambush, some attack, or worst of all a garrote made of guqin string the way he’d so foolishly taught A-Yao – but no, when he examined him with his eyes, Nie Huaisang looked hale as always, but for the redness and swelling around his eyes.

He looked for all the world as if he’d been –

Crying?

And yet Lan Xichen knew that Nie Huaisang hadn’t wept in years. One could probably accurately say that Nie Huaisang hadn’t had any expression in years, nothing that wasn’t a sneer or a grimace, maybe at best a smirk. What could have caused him to do so now…?

Nie Huaisang shook his head and unexpectedly – smiled.

A real true smile, his eyes curving into crescents and wrinkling at the corners, his cheeks glowing pink and his teeth flashing just like when he was younger and more innocent and smiled like that all the time. A smile of the sort that Lan Xichen hadn’t appreciated when he had it, the sort he’d thought was lost forever.

Lan Xichen’s heart stopped in his chest.

He wished he could stop this moment, too, to keep it with him for the rest of time.

“It’s da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, beaming. “He woke up.”

Oh, Lan Xichen thought. Oh.

Oh no.

[sweetestlamb]

Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss. 

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading! 

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God. 

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her. 

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there. 

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake. 

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck. 

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings. 

Heartbroken. 

Desperate. 

Lonely. 

Rage. 

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently. 

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”,  her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive. 

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.” 

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them. 

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?” 

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...” 

He sent Han Seo letters.  

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone. 

“That fucking bastard!”  She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it. 

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot. 

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs. 

I thought about you everyday. 

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life. 

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin. 

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement. 

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them. 

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her. 

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.” 

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home. 

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home. 

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen. 

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night. 

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.” 

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels. 

“I am going to forget him.” 

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that. 

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.” 

She turns to look at him in genuine shock. 

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.” 

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming. 

“I should go inside.” 

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers. 

Thinking. 

Variety is the spice of life. 

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision. 

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?” 

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself. 

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there.  She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind. 

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess. 

It’s an entertaining day to say the least. 

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one. 

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.” 

He does. 

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air. 

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit. 

Nothing more. 

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for. 

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin. 

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step. 

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles. 

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment. 

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though. 

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her.  Not anymore. 

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time. 

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious. 

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce. 

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear. 

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time. 

Fuck him. 

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain. 

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner. 

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him. 

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him. 

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.” 

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all. 

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.” 

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least. 

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.” 

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth. 

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man. 

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know. 

“Okay. Then talk.” 

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her.  She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life. 

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips. 

She looks fucking hot. 

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face. 

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her. 

I missed you. 

I love you. 

Come with me. 

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities. 

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.” 

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her. 

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted. 

“Deadly. Get out.” 

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face. 

What the hell. 

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).” 

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat. 

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his. 

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do? 

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone.  He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask. 

He could only share those feelings in the letters. 

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months. 

“Hyung!” 

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar. 

“You really chose to stay here.” 

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.” 

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone. 

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face. 

“She wasn’t happy to see you.” 

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it.  He looks around in awe. 

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.” 

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging.  "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin  and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly  feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body. 

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore. 

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.” 

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone  again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.” 

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon." 

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response. 

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening. 

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back. 

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.” 

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes. 

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her. 

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.” 

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter. 

He waits. 

Breathless and terrified. 

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters. 

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.” 

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes. 

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!” 

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important. 

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--” 

“Come home with me.” 

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more. 

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance. 

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.” 

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape. 

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her. 

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way. 

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste. 

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest. 

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction. 

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” 

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh. 

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too. 

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow. 

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants. 

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes. 

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth. 

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys. 

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head. 

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.” 

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth. 

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them. 

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her. 

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour. 

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too. 

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.” 

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said. 

“Good.” 

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room. 

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”  

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation. 

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple. 

“Please.” 

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation. 

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between. 

This feels like nirvana. 

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off. 

“I can’t feel like my legs.” 

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider. 

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.” 

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement. 

“I was right they do look great.” 

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand. 

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do. 

“No.” 

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him. 

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.” 

“Shut up and fuck me already.” 

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips. 

“Yes just like that!” 

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts. 

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized. 

“Don’t look.” 

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life. 

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger. 

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.” 

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.” 

She cries out. 

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked. 

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses. 

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets. 

“Today’s our last day.” 

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement. 

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.” 

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.” 

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once. 

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time. 

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon. 

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye. 

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough. 

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court. 

[emiensr]

Hello fellow Tsukasa fan!!! Can I please get Noel’s opinion on my pomefiore son? also I love ur art

hello tsukasa fan !!!! !FIRST OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LUCERO IS SO COOL omfg .. .. . . im a huge fan of phantom of the opera........ :o Noel and his little story group (his brother + the murder trio.... i will talk about them properly here one day lmfao) are looooooosely based on the phantom of the opera !! (based on the royal scandal song that is based on the phantom of the opera..) so i love him already... his story is so cool too !!!! ok enough gushing.... back to noel Noel would probably try and become close to Lucero !! (i've said that about everyone who has asked so far but thats just how he is TT) Seeing as they're both musical people.. :D and he'd probably make comparisons between Lucero and Madison (Noel's brother) as their unique magics are kind of similar !! by make comparisons i mean it likeee .. . "hey madi u should be friends with this guy !! you guys r really similar !! ! ! !" and madi would probably be like "i am so sorry about him . he (noel) is too much let me know if he gets on your nerves too much TT) Noel would probably have been somewhat of a fan of Lucero when he was active as a singer.. and would probably want to use his UM to find out what *really* happened to Lucero to cause him to stop performing.. he would probably also suggest that they sing together in the mostro lounge !! (up to you whether or not they actually would... teehee)

I'll be keeping my eye out for new posts about Lucero.. i am suuuuper interested in him :D Thank u for sending me a message!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

[baseballbitch116]

The Wedding

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Request: 👋 hey I hope you are doing well. I've kind of wanted to write this imagine for a while but I SUCK at writing and I love your writing so I thought maybe I'd ask you 😊 so I've had this song stuck in my head for like ever but its Marry Me by Thomas Rhett and basically its where the reader and George (and-or) Fred Weasley were friends with her and one of them has a crush on her but no one makes a move and then they eventually get a wedding invite like after the war or after Hogwarts. ?? If this is too confusing I totally get you not wanting to write it 😊 again hope you are doing okay!!

Prompt: George Weasley x reader slow burn

Setting: Deathly Hallows pt 1

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Fandoms I Write For | Send Me A Request!

A/N: Hi darling!! I’m doing okay! You definitely do NOT suck and I would’ve loved to read your own take on your prompt! & tysm for reading my work hun :) I was so excited when you messaged me with this idea, I absolutely love it! It ended up getting pretty long cuz I get carried away, I hope you like it! 

You’ve had a crush on him for years now. He used to just be your annoying best friend as children. The boy that would protect you from bullies then tease you himself. The one that would mess up your hair or relentlessly play pranks on you. He and his brothers were like second family to you growing up, and you’d always felt like a part of his family.

Things changed when you started your first year at Hogwarts. The twins were already in their second year, and that was when you realized that you had formed a crush on George. You were freaked out by it at first - he was one of your closest friends! But as time went on and you saw him interacting with other girls, you found yourself growing apart from him - the fear of rejection pushing you away from him.

Following that year, you grew much closer to Ginny and Ron, and spending less time with the twins. They never confronted you about you basically avoiding them and you felt like they didn’t even notice that you had stopped coming around them.

Little did you know, Fred and George noticed. They were pretty upset and offended when you began avoided them, seemingly out of nowhere, and were too prideful to ask you why. George figured it was because you were meeting a bunch of new people(and boys) and didn’t need them anymore - while Fred thought something else had to have been going on.

Fast forward to the Yule Ball, you had pushed your feelings for George aside and gotten yourself a date to the ball. You stopped avoiding the boys after your first year but you also stopped hanging out with them unless you were with other people. Of course there was that part of you in the back of your mind wishing that George was your date. That you could dance in his arms, that he would compliment you, but instead, you went to the ball with Cedric.

“This is so dumb, I don’t wanna be here.” Fred whined, tugging at his bow tie once again. George rolled his eyes at his twin and scanned the room absentmindedly, bored of this dance already. Harry and Ron approached the two of them, Ron acting just like Fred, tugging at his uncomfortable dress robe awkwardly. Ron suddenly froze in place and George spotted Hermione walking down the stairs. He smirked and opened his mouth to make fun of his younger brother - until he saw you following behind Hermione. It was like the air was stolen straight from his lungs - whatever he was about to say was long forgotten as he stared at you walking in their direction.

Your soft pink dress lightly trailed behind you as you elegantly descended from the stairs, a shy smile on your lips as you made your way toward your friends. George felt like his heart had stopped in that very moment, and Fred had to nudge him to close his mouth before you got to the bottom of the stairs. His mouth was dry and he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The sight of you walking toward him in that dress was something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. 

George admitted his feelings for you to himself right in that moment. You were the most beautiful girl in the room by a long-shot. He always denied that he felt something for you - mostly because he had never had any desire to be in a relationship or to ruin your friendship - but in that moment he knew that he had to have you.

You held your dress up slightly so that you didn’t trip on it as you approached your friends, and Fred chuckled. “You better be careful in that get up, Y/N, with your clumsiness.” He teased. You rolled your eyes playfully at him and laughed nervously. “I am so not looking forward to dancing in front of all these people.” You mumble. Fred gives his brother another nudge so that he will stop staring at you and say something.

“I could sneak you away?” He offers, half joking, half not. He wanted to whisk you away and steal you from your date. How is it fair that Cedric will get to dance with you and not him?

“Unfortunately I can’t.” You respond to George. He looked so handsome in his suit and you wished that he was your date for the night. “Speaking of-” You say, forcing a big smile as Cedric approaches and stands beside the twins, giving you a grin.

“Y/N, you look beautiful.” He compliments. You can’t help but blush at the nice compliment. You don’t notice the grimance or anger on George’s face before he masks it with another nudge from Fred. He towers over Cedric and looks displeased to be near him, but you cannot question it before your date offers you his hand when the music begins playing - signalling time for him to escort you for the first dance. You shoot a short, nervous smile to your friends before allowing Cedric to escort you away.

The rest of the night was miserable for George, as he longed to be the one dancing with you. "You’re wicked jealous, mate.” Fred taunted him as he glared at Cedric by your side. “I always knew you had a thing for her.”

Fast forward to present day, George had come no closer to making you his. He was so scared that he would mess things up and he was never scared of anything, so instead he just stumbled his way through conversations with you and awkwardly attempted to do something to get out of the friendzone. You had noticed a change in his behavior but never recognized it to be because of feelings for you.

And here you guys were, at yet another dance. Well, a wedding to be exact. Bill and Fleur’s wedding. You did not bring a date, as you had no interest in anyone other than George. He did not bring a date either. He so badly wanted to ask you to be his, but when he heard that you planned to attend the wedding alone, he decided not to and hoped to figure things out on the day itself.

When he saw you walk into the tent in your gown, his breath was stolen from his lungs the same way as it had been on the night of the Yule Ball so long ago. You looked around nervously as you tried to spot a familiar face, and his heart dropped when he saw you smile when you made eye contact with him. Did he do that?

You walked over to him and he felt like he couldn’t breathe as he watched you approach. “Wow, Y/N-” He starts, clearing his throat to try to shake off his nerves. “You look...”

“Nervous?” You ask, chuckling awkwardly.

“No, you look amazing.” He says with an awkward chuckle.

You blush furiously and smile.

“Wow, a compliment from George? It’s going to snow!” You tease, giving his arm a little nudge playfully. He returns the chuckle and cups your hand on his bicep before you can remove it. Tonight was the night - he could feel it. It was a romantic, happy occasion and he suddenly had the courage to make a move.

You look at his hand on yours, then look up at him. Something was changing, you could feel it. Your heart pounded in your chest behind your blue gown and he grasped your hand and brought it up to his mouth, placing a light kiss on the top of it. “M’lady.” He smirks playfully.

You roll your eyes and laugh to mask the butterflies that were soaring through your stomach. What had gotten into him?

“Would you like to dance?” He asks. You are stunned but force yourself to nod when your words fail you. He does not let go of your hand and escorts you over to the dancefloor where everyone has begun slow dancing. He takes the lead and hesitantly places a hand on your waist, keeping a safe distance between your two bodies. You both feel very tense and awkward, but you want this so bad.

You inhale deeply and raise your hand up to his shoulder lightly, looking up into his eyes shyly. Your hand is small in comparison to his and his large frame leaning over yours makes you feel safe in the weirdest way. You allow yourself to get lost in moment as you sway back and forth to the song around the bride and groom. George decides to allow himself to make this moment as perfect as possible, so he brings you slightly closer by your waist until you are nearly chest to chest. He is not smiling but he is so deep in the moment and you can see the emotions written on his face.

He can’t help but glance at your lips for a moment. Your heart stops as you continue to dance, staring into his eyes. There’s no way that George has feelings for you...? Is there? He leans down and brings his mouth to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Are you having a good time?” He mutters into your ear.

“I am.” You respond quietly. He shifts your hand slightly in his own so that he can interlace his fingers with yours. “I’m so happy for them.” You continue, closing your eyes momentarily and getting lost in the moment.

“Me too. They deserve it.” He responds. His hand on your waist holds you a little firmer and he presses his body into yours, keeping his head beside yours. “You look beautiful tonight.” He compliments you. You are glad that he can’t see the giant grin spread across your lips.

“Thank you, George.” You respond. “You look great in a tux.” You return the compliment.

He pulls back just enough to see your face, smirking at you playfully. “Why thank you.” He grins. You giggle and smile up at him.

“I didn’t realize you were such a good dancer.” You note. He takes that opportunity to spin you outward, pulling you back into his arms flesh against his chest, looking down into your eyes.

“Neither did I.” He grins, and you laugh again. Suddenly though, the moment becomes intense as you realize how close in proximity you are. You can feel his breath on your lips as he rests his forehead against yours. Your breath hitches and your brain goes silent, unable to process anything other than the man in your arms. He can tell that you are feeling this just as much as he is and he finally has the confidence to do what he’s been dying to ever since the Yule Ball.

George starts to lean in closer, just ever so slightly. You can practically taste the mint on his breath as he is just a few millimeters away from your lips. And just when he was about to, the song ends and the crowd begins clapping. He closes his eyes in exasperation before lifting his head up from your forehead and taking a step back. You let the breath you didn’t realize you were holding out and acknowledge your surroundings, noticing Bill and Fleur heading over to the cake. You clap with the crowd but your eyes fall back to George, who was already watching you.

What just happened?

---

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