#to spend your entire life mourning someone you were too little to even cherish and remember

[theshelbyslimited]

let me firstly apologize bc I tend to vent in the tags (like rn) on this account bc I feel like i'm less likely to be judged and I guess this blog feels safer for me bc of how lovely and empathetic you all are <3

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[heliads]

How to Move On

Based on this request: “A ghost!Luke Patterson x alive!reader but she is older. Like in the 90s they were but then he died and she got older. An angst story please :)”

masterlist

When he was alive, Luke Patterson lived five houses down from one of the cutest girls he’d ever seen. It still surprises him that he has to tack on that first part to describe anything that happened in his life before, like if he shuts his eyes hard enough he’ll find himself back in the 90s, when he had a pulse and a heartbeat and people could see him if he walked out onto the street.

However, an unseen blade cuts a little too deep whenever he thinks about his current situation, so Luke allows himself to fall deeper into the memory instead of returning back to reality. She’d lived five houses down, right? Or was it four? Luke has hardly been brought back as a ghost for a few weeks before he’s started losing his grasp on the details that bound his life. They’re all slipping through his fingertips, gone now in recollection as well as his ability to return to them in person.

Yes, five houses down- he’s certain of it now. Whenever he wanted to sneak out of his house to go visit her, Luke had to climb out of his window and weave through two backyards before he could risk returning to the sidewalk for another three houses. Five houses down, that’s right. Luke curses himself mentally, not wanting to forget another detail. He’s already lost the girl, he doesn’t want to lose the few figments of her in his memory. A ghost of her for the ghost he already is.

If he managed to sneak out of his house and make it down five houses, as he so often did, Luke could then toss small pebbles at one moonlit window. It usually only took two or three of these interactions before the window would be hurriedly unlatched, a beaming face peering out at him. Luke would allow himself a second of staring, admiring the way the moonlight cast the girl in a bone-white halo, then haul himself up into the room.

From the second his feet touched down on the bedroom floor, Luke would be in safe territory. He still took precautions, of course, keeping his voice down and his movements quiet. However, Y/N L/N always seemed to have a secret oasis in the form of her room, and he was never once caught. They both made sure of it, and if he and Y/N worked together, they could achieve any goal so long as it was worth it.

Y/N L/N. She was the one he’d left behind, one of the aches that hurt the most. He’d been lucky enough to win her love, either through some complete misunderstanding or maybe the fact that he’d finally done something right in his life, but he had her nonetheless. Or, he’d had her until the day he’d died, leaving behind nothing in his wake but grieving parents and the girl he’d sworn to stay with for the rest of his life. Well, his promise had come true in one sense, although Luke can’t help but wish there was another way around it.

To be completely honest, even as Luke dreads forgetting any detail of his past girl, he might fear thinking about her even more. It’s not that he wants to lose the picture of her smile in his head, or the way she’d reach for him when she was cold, it’s just that to think of her in any sense is like a knife stabbing him through the ribs, reminding him that he’ll never get her back. If he tries to push her from his mind, he won’t remember the way she’ll never be with him again. Isn’t that better?

Luke already knows the answer: no, not at all. Even this one slip in his memory, the faltering knowledge of how far apart their houses were, sends a jolt of worry spiking through him. Luke wouldn’t consider himself forgetful, maybe just a little absentminded, but the fact that he’s already starting to forget his past life worries him. However, to keep Y/N’s picture cherished in his mind means reminding himself of everything that he’d lost, of finally confronting all the memories he’s been holding back for so long.

Eventually, Luke finds himself in the studio, searching through the boxes and crates of stuff that had eventually made its way into dusty corners and spiderwebbed cracks of the room. Julie’s mom had been kind enough to keep at least some of Sunset Curve’s possessions, and so Luke ransacks these sparse belongings now. At last, his hand emerges triumphant, carrying with it an old photo album. It’s thin, spine scarcely thicker than a small paperback, but for the way he looks at it its pages could be lined with gold.

Luke pauses a second, steeling himself before flipping open the front cover. Instantly, he’s hit with a wave of memories. These first few photos had been taken a year or so before he died, when he had first started dating Y/N and everything seemed like he was living a dream. There are Polaroids from their first few dates, snapshots of festivals and boardwalks and everything a couple of teenagers could afford when they were young and stupidly in love.

Luke studies these, then the next couple of pages, and then the next. He must have been more distracted than he’d first thought, because he doesn’t notice Julie Molina enter the studio until she’s practically standing on top of him. Julie clears his throat, and he startles, doing his best to quickly close the album. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite right to so openly share his memories of Y/N to anyone within eyesight.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Are we practicing?” Luke asks. Julie laughs, her smile a tad incredulous. “Not yet, but I’m a little worried as to why you were so quick to hide that book. What, are you trying to keep secrets from me?” Her eyes assure him that this question is purely an excuse to tease him, but Luke can’t find it within himself to smile back. Instead, he sits back down on the floor of the studio, gesturing listlessly to the empty space next to him.

“Not entirely. It’s just- well, I found this old photo album, and it’s kind of hard to not regret leaving everything behind. The current day is good, don’t get me wrong, and I love the band, but-” Julie picks up on his train of thought even as Luke’s voice trails off. “It’s not what you’re used to, and you feel bad about everything you could have had. I get it. I’m surprised you’ve adjusted so well, to be honest. It can’t be easy to leave your entire life behind.”

Luke lets out a quiet sigh. “Exactly.” After a moment’s consideration, he picks up the photo album again, opening the cover and passing it to Julie. She accepts it, glancing at him one last time to make sure he’s alright with baring his soul to her. A soft smile traces its way onto her face as she sees the photos of him and Y/N, grins so bright they could practically light up the world. “Who is this?”

Her finger lingers over a photo Luke had taken of Y/N. She had been wearing a Sunset Curve shirt, one of their first attempts at a logo. They’d long since changed the design, but she had said something about how her boys were so official and taken the first draft t-shirt nonetheless. Y/N had worn it to many shows since then, until the design faded into nothingness and she’d been forced to get a new one. Luke’s voice softens. “That’s Y/N. She is- she was my girlfriend. Back in the 90s, at least.”

Luke hates the way he has to say that, like she’s died instead of him. She was his girlfriend, they had known each other, they are each utterly different now and there is no getting back what they’d once had. Julie glances over at him, sympathy radiating from her gaze, but then she turns back to the photo, frowning over it in something that almost looks like recognition. “Wait, you said her name was Y/N? Like Y/N L/N?”

Luke sits bolt upright, melancholy thoughts completely forgotten. “Yes! How did you know that? Do you know her?” Julie’s excitement starts to bleed away from her, as if she knows something that ruins the dream she had been so thrilled to share. “Well, yes, but she’s not Y/N L/N anymore. She has a different last name now.” Luke picks up on what Julie is unwilling to say, and his stomach sinks a little. She has a different last name because she’s married, because she’s moved on.

Even as he thinks this, Luke feels annoyed at himself. Of course she’s moved on- he died 25 years ago. There’s no reason she would never love again, and even if she did, Luke would never want that for her. She was so bright, so happy, that the thought of herself locked away in mournful grief like his parents seems so utterly wrong that if that happened she might as well have died with him. Still, Luke doesn’t like thinking that there’s someone else out there receiving her smiles, hearing her hopes and dreams late at night the way he had once listened to her.

Luke must have gone silent for too long, because Julie is looking over at him again, pity written in every line of her face. She thinks for a second longer, then stands up, holding out her hand to him. “She still lives near here, actually. A few streets down. Do you want to go see her?” Luke stares at her, then rushes to his feet. “You mean it? You know where she is?” Julie nods. “Only if you’re willing to see her.” She’s right to worry- seeing Y/N again will mean finally coming to terms with everything Luke had left behind when he’d died, a final piece of proof that Y/N will never be his again. Still, if he hides away from her again, Luke will spend the rest of his ghosthood wondering what she might have been like and who she may have become. So, he nods, and allows Julie to lead him from the studio and down the blocks to Y/N’s house.

Even without Julie’s directions, Luke would know their destination even before she points out Y/N’s front door. He sees her in every corner of the building, every flower and tree planted in the yard. She’d always wanted a brightly painted front door, tall trees in the backyard so she could have a little shade on the summer days. They’d once planned what their future houses would look like, always choosing one for the two of them. If Luke sees traces of his ideas in her house now, does that mean Y/N still thinks of him? Or that she’s already forgotten that it was his voice suggesting those changes and not her own, that he’s already faded into the last few corners of her memory?

His feet stall in the driveway, but at an encouraging look from Julie, Luke forces himself to walk up the final few feet to stop in front of the front door. He reaches forward and rings the doorbell himself, although he can do no more once the door swings open. This will be Julie’s part- Luke can do no more than watch the woman in front of him with wide eyes.

She still looks like her. Is that a strange thing to say? She’s taller now, her face more lined and weary as if she’s had a lifetime of problems to deal with ever since Luke left her days. It makes sense that she looks older- the last time Luke saw her was 25 years ago, so she’s probably in her forties now. Still, there are traces of the girl he’d known in every movement, every step. When she looks questioningly at Julie, Luke can see the way she’d looked at him to ask when and where Sunset Curve would be performing so she could make sure to arrive on time. The gesture is so truthfully her that it practically hurts to see.

Julie’s eyes dart to Luke, as if trying to gauge his reaction, then she focuses her gaze firmly on Y/N. “I, uh, was cleaning out my mom’s old studio. I found something from the band who used to practice there- they went by the name of Sunset Curve? Your name was on one of the photos.” It’s a duplicate photo strip from a photo booth on a long-since demolished boardwalk, an excuse for the visit. Still, it’s enough to make Y/N’s eyes widen, and she looks at Julie as if she’s punched a hole right through her chest.

She gestures for Julie to follow her inside. Luke drifts in after them, staring at the photos lining the walls, the backpacks flung in a corner of the room. So she has children, a family. How long had it taken her to move on from him? She smiles in every family portrait he sees, but did she ever think about the boy she’d left behind? Would it matter that much to him if she did?

Julie hands Y/N the photo strip now, and tears glisten in the woman’s eyes as she looks at herself and Luke, decades younger and what feels like centuries happier. Julie, thank everything, is unwilling to let Y/N leave without asking her about the boy she’d left behind. “Did you know him well? The boy in the photos?” Y/N glances up sharply at Julie, startling as if she’d forgotten there was a girl in front of her, too drowned in the memories of the past to remember reality. It’s a familiar feeling to Luke, and it stings to see it on this older Y/N too.

“Yes, I did. Very well, in fact. I loved him with all of my heart until he died along with his bandmates.” She laughs quietly, the sound broken through with utter misery. It twists Luke’s heart like a blade. “I almost didn’t make it through the funeral. I was sitting next to his parents, and we were sobbing like we’d never smile again. He was everything to me, and I had no idea what to do when he was gone. I wish you could have met him- he was always so quick to a smile or a laugh. I never told him how much I liked his smile. I wish I had.”

Luke stumbles as if he’s been punched. Tears are pricking at his eyes, and he swipes at them angrily with his shirt sleeve. Why should he have to cry now, mourn everything he’d lost? Hasn’t he been through enough? Y/N swallows harshly. “It’s easy to get lost in the past. I graduated high school without him, went to college without him. I didn’t think I’d ever have to live a day without him, and suddenly I had an entire future completely empty of anyone like him. There are days when I almost think I see him in a crowd, and days when it gets easier. In the end, I think he’d want me to move forward, even as hard as that may be.”

Julie glances over at Luke once more, scarcely a second away from tears herself. “Yeah, I think he’d want you to be happy. That above all else.” Y/N sighs, the sound cutting through Luke and almost sending him to the floor. “Thank you for the photos, Julie. You take care of yourself.” Julie smiles. “I will. Thank you too.” Luke, sensing the imminent goodbye, takes one last furtive glance around the house. What if he had been there, present in every family photo and every line in her journals? He wishes nothing more than to have that option, to be able to go back, but he can’t.

So, he allows himself to follow Julie back out into the sunshine of the afternoon, and when the door closes softly behind him, he doesn’t look back. Julie is silent on the walk back, as is he. Luke heads for the studio, and he stops before the photo album before glancing up at the walls around him. If he tries hard enough, Luke thinks he can see her in every corner of the studio. There she is on the couch, laughing as she pretends to smack him with a pillow. There she is next to him on the piano, listening to his latest song. There are hundreds of her in the studio, hundreds of memories. That’s all he has left of her. Just memories and nothing more.

Julie returns to find him later, and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to cut across the room, landing on the photo newly pinned to the wall. There are two figures in it, a boy and a girl grinning madly as they reach for each other in a dusky night. Both of them are long gone now, dead and aged even as their photo-selves smile on. If Luke looks back at the photo now, keeping that image burned into his mind, he never speaks of it again.

requested by @charliegillespiewife​

jatp tag list: someone who i would not leave behind if i died in the 90s @underc0vercryptid​

[alreadyblondenow]

Paint the lot red | Qian Kun

Qian Kun x Reader  

▸ FLUFF, ANGST, Smut, Vampire au ▸ Part of the Stephen King’s collab, hosted by @starryqian​ & @takitaro​ ▸ Inspired by Stephen King’s, Salem’s Lot 

Summary: Kun is a vampire, buying humans in exchange for immortality. He wanted to buy you and your house, but love changes everything. Convincing each other to be something you’re not. Kun wants to turn you into a vampire, but you want him to embrace being a human. Will Kun leave his family for you? Or you will accept the immortality he offers?

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: mentions of car crash, family loss, Vanilla sex, depression from family loss, bloodsucking, virginity loss, unprotected sex, swearing, major character death, blood, mentions of alcohol, depression

A/N: Salem’s Lot is a handful but great book. I can’t follow the entire plot of Stephen King’s work, so heres my version of it. This is also inspired by Vampires VS. The Bronx... HAHAHA so, here. And sorry if the ending is SLIGHTLY close to my Jaehyun’s Body, but I plotted this first so 🤷🏼‍♀️ 

Tag list: @jimjamjaemin @inseonqt @thefouranemoi @jaehyunoos @sunshinedhyuck @neospirited @shanghai-lu @loeygotospacenow @mal-nakamoto23 @svteencarat @commentgirl @yukine-smx​ (I hope I did not missed anyone)

NEWS FLASH: The family of the famous writer Y/N, died in a car crash on their way to the airport for a family trip to Hawaii. All four passengers are dead on arrival including the driver. The funeral will be closed and private, as per the writer Y/N’s request.  

The sky has your favorite shade of orange when you arrived at the house. Home, you thought. Always the same big house that you grew up to. It’s been almost ten years since you step foot in this house and seeing it again for the first time made you regret every Christmas that you purposely missed just so you can avoid spending time with your family. And besides feeling that you’re home, you feel regret suffocating you. What was I thinking, you murmured. This house used to be filled with laughter and happiness. Nights where you and your family will watch TV together in the living room with all the lights closed, countless meals together and talking about random stuff while eating, drinking coffee with your mother, playing board games with your brother. But now, the house is filled with dust and despair.

The house feels cold and dirty but either way, it’s what you need. You would rather feel the emptiness of this big house and miss your family than be alone in your apartment. Maybe being home can make you write something worth reading for again, maybe being home will help you be alive again. Losing your whole family is a different kind of pain. The word ‘alone’ does not cover what you’re feeling right now.

It has been nine months since the accident but the sad news is still fresh in your heart that sometimes when you remember it, you just turned into stone and start crying out of nowhere. Thankfully, the town was understanding enough about what you’re going through in life. They were all careful not to make you remember your family’s death, and made sure to take care of you in ways that they can.

“I see some stores are closing? What happened to Miguel’s Ice Cream shop?” you asked Sophie, the owner of the small grocery store in town. You’ve known her since you were just a little girl, and your mother and father helped her grow her business.

“Well, since your father’s death there's this vampire family who’s been buying the whole town. One by one, Qian Properties. Offering money and immortality as payments” she says. The worry in her tone is quite evident as if she knew that vampires will soon knock on her store and offer her the same thing. Money and immortality.

After your family’s passing, the world has gone mad like they took every good thing from this world with them on their graves. Crazy how in nine months the things that are used to be fiction like vampires, are now the new normal. Everything happened so fast. Their kind grew and grew and now their population covers over almost 1/4 of the world. Vampires school, condominiums for vampires, hotel ran by vampires, humans being vampires. It’s crazy. But even though the world has gone mad, it doesn’t bother you because the pain that you’re dealing with right now is taking too much of your sanity.

As months slowly pass by, even though you hate writing right now, you still try and find your way back to loving what you used to do for a living. Writing was everything to you. There’s no greater feeling than sharing something you’ve created to the world, show it entirely, and watch the people love every bit of that thick thing we called a book. You lost your spark with writing when the accident happened and it changed your life. Everything you published became the talk of the world, people hating it and blaming what happened to your family. It was your darkest time. Losing your family and watching your career end.

You type, delete over and over again, and tried writing your feelings away until you see the sun setting again. A good reminder to call it a day. Then someone rang your doorbell. You quickly grabbed your robe and make your way downstairs, you see a man’s figure on the other side of the gate, wearing a nice suit, black trousers, and nice leather shoes.

“Good evening. I hope I did not interrupt you, I’m Qian Kun” he offered his hand for you to shake it which you accepted with a straight face. Qian. The family name of the vampires who are buying properties in this town and you’re not stupid to not know what he came here for. You wanted to shoo him away and tell him that you’re not interested in anything that he will offer. You have a lot of money and you don’t need immortality.

You crossed your arms and waited for him to talk more. “May I come in? I’m looking forward to this meeting for quite some time now” he says. You turned around and did not say anything but left the gate wide open. “Please” he added and he sounded desperate.

“Mr. Qian, I left the door open. What are you waiting for?”

“I- I suppose you don’t know that vampires cannot come in unless you invite them in” you didn’t of course.

“I’m sorry. I did not know. Please come in”

When you two settled in the living room, he started the conversation by introducing himself. You notice that he’s well mannered, polite, and careful with his words. He doesn’t sound fake like the monsters who pretend to care for you in the writing industry. Kun was straightforward without offending you, intimidating but not enough to make you feel small. He stated his intentions very clearly, “As a firstborn, I want my family to have a nice home. And this house is perfect. You will not be homeless, of course. We will find you a new house, cash, and immortality” he says.

You couldn’t agree more with what Kun told you. But the reason that he’s here to buy your house is something you can’t let him do. Even if he’s polite, nice, and handsome if you’re being honest. You can’t let him take away your home.

“It’s good that you love your family so much and you’re taking care of them. Something that I regret not doing” you take a sip from your coffee before you continue saying something that will bring you to tears, “are you aware that I lost my family, about a year ago?” you were calm when you said it, but it still hurt like hell. Admitting that they’re gone.

Kun was speechless. He felt like he ruined your peace and your time to mourn your family but most of all, it felt like he’s disrespecting you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know” is all he can say.

“I have way too much money and I don’t want immortality. Thank you for your offer, but this is all I’ve got”

“I cherish my family too. I have a family and we don't have a home, you don’t have a family but you have a home. Be part of us, we can be your family”

You got offended, but still, there’s not enough reason to burst out and be hysterical. You gave him a small smile and shook your head, “Good luck finding a home Mr. Qian. I admire you taking care of your family”

The night ended coldly, both disappointed with personal reasons. Although he felt sorry about his visit, he still got his eyes on the prize. Kun will stand his ground and will try over and over again until you say yes to his offer. You, on the other hand, don’t know why you have a soft spot for the vampire even though he already offended you. Maybe it’s because you were moved for his honest reasons that you can’t let out your anger towards him even if you force yourself. He was just trying and finding his family a stable home, no need to get mad, you said to yourself.

As days go by, the vampire did not give up as expected. He continued his visit and greet you with the sweetest smile. He tried pursuing you, giving you flowers, bringing you books to read, chocolates, fruits, anything that crosses his mind that will try to change your decision. He was desperate for his family’s sake and it was obvious.

Sophie said that Qian properties chose this place because it’s far from the city. There’s a lot of trees and the neighborhood is peaceful. “That’s why he’s desperate. Your father made this town great. Don’t let that Qian family eat up of what your father built” she says sternly.

You walked alone to your house with a bag of take out, thinking of other ways to make your meal even more delicious. Since you’re alone in life, you don’t have someone to cook you a decent meal. When you were living alone in the city, you have your manager cook you good food. But now that you’re completely alone, you just have to make the best out of this take out.

“Hi” of course the vampire waited for you to come home. You smiled and let out a small laugh because both of his hands are carrying grocery bags.

“What are you doing? I have food and enough stocks for a whole family, and I live alone” It was a joke. You giggle and opened the gate, this time you did not forget to invite him in.

“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here as a friend a new vampire friend- Let me cook for you please, I need a friend”

Hearing him say those words made you think that Kun is a blessing in disguise. Finally, decent food. You don’t want to admit but having Kun’s company tonight made you feel happy. Not genuinely happy of course, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Surprisingly, he’s talkative but not annoying. The words that came out from his mouth made sense to the point that you’re learning new things from him. He was right, he’s here as a friend and not as a buyer of your house.

“Why do you want my house so bad?” you asked. Stirring the spaghetti sauce that he made.

“Hmm. I thought I’m here as a friend?” he smiles and refuses to answer your question. He looked handsome up close, but his unbelievably white skin is scary. It reminded you that he’s a vampire.

“Well okay, if you don’t want to answer that question. I didn’t know vampires eat. I thought you only drink blood from humans” you quickly changed the subject so he can feel comfortable.

“I love food and I love cooking. It’s my guilty pleasure. It doesn’t make me full, but if what I made taste good then I’m satisfied” he answered your question with a big smile. Proud and happy to talk about how he loves cooking.

For someone who doesn’t have a soul, Kun is a vampire full of life. You listen to him talk about the things he sees on TV and watches his eyes show you and tell you how he’s curious about the world. He’s well aware that there's so much you can do in a lifetime, he wanted to learn many things and go around the world. He’s almost more human than you are. “Well if you have all these dreams of yours why don’t you embrace life instead of living in the shadows for your family?” you hope he answers your question this time.

“My family is more important than my dreams and my wants in life. The things that I long for will forever be in this world, but my family can die anytime-“ he realized what he just said, “I’m- I’m sorry. I got carried away. Please- Uh, how’s the food?” he tried changing the subject but it was too late.

He’s right. Everything he said is right and you’re realizing it just now, “I wish I met you before my family died. Unlike you, I chose my dreams and turned my back against my family. And now I’m regretting it. Don’t worry, you didn’t offend me and the food is great. Really great” your tone was slowly turning sad and gloomy. The vampire was quick to be concerned but he can’t do anything to help you heal. So, he changed the mood and joked about offering you immortality and you argued with him and tried convincing him to embrace being human. It was a friendly debate that made him blush and your heart flutter.

Kun hates lying, even to himself. As he listens and watches you speak very closely while you drink your wine, he's slowly liking you and he's not afraid of what he's feeling right now. He loves how you talk about the things you've experienced already like he's listening to a book about wonders. You must be a great writer. The whole time you were talking about your first book to him, he was really impressed by your talent but he can't listen to you further. Instead, he just admired you closely.      

Then he kissed you.

He noticed how your lips were plump and red because of the red wine and the kiss was something he can’t control because he wanted to do it. “I’m not sorry about the kiss, I wanted to do it” at least he was honest about what he feels. "Please continue your story" and so you did, but this time you were smiling from ear to ear.

Good things come to an end. You felt that you went out on a date with Kun when the night ended. You felt nothing but happiness, butterflies in your stomach, cheeks hurt because of too much smiling. He flashed those handsome dimples of his and waved goodbye to you. Neither of you wanted to end the night so early but he had to go home to his family.

The next day, while you were trying so hard to put what you feel into writing, you look over the window and hope to see Kun’s figure outside your huge gate. But no, he’s not there. Until the sun is finally setting again and the sky turned into your favorite shade of orange, you were disappointed but only for a short span of time.

The same thing happened for a week. You waited for the vampire to show up outside your gate, but he never did. Maybe he finally gave up.

One fine beautiful evening, you were reading the books Kun gave you while you enjoy a cup of warm tea then your doorbell rang three times that it almost sounded so desperate for attention. Finally, the figure that you’ve been meaning to see showed up. You welcome him in like an old friend and he greets you with an exhausted smile. He looked tired and dull you noticed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show up for days” you haven’t seen each other for a week and the first words you heard from him are apologies. “I was busy running the family business” he clears his throat and sat comfortably on the couch.

“Which is?” you asked.

“Buying humans so my family name will forever live,” he said oh so cooly. Surprising you with honestly again that never bothered you. In fact, he continues to surprise you. “And looking for a new town to buy” he added. You noticed during your long walks that people in this town continue embracing immortality in exchange for their establishments and loyalty for Qian properties. It sounds complicated, their business, but really it’s not hard to understand. It’s like a normal business that buys and sells properties and a big company that needed a lot of staff. But for Qian properties, lives are involved.

“What happens to the people you turn to vampires?”

“Besides being rich, they will have a long life, my family owns them and as long as they live, they will work for my family. But I can assure you that their lives are safe. We don’t harm them, rather we help them adjust to this new life they swore to- How are you?”

His sudden concern for you caught you off guard that you smiled and became shy in front of him. He’s not here as a businessman again, he’s here as your friend, Kun. Whom you kissed and waited for his presence every day.

“I waited for you every day” he smiled at your honesty. But then, his smile slowly fades away. He holds his chest and pretends that he’s okay to not make you worry. “I’m not stupid you’re hungry. When was the last time you drank blood?” you brought him to your kitchen to give him a plate of raw steak. But he told you steak does not cover it. You were trying so hard to help him ease his hunger. Then you realized, you have blood.

“Try not to kill me? Or turn me?” you exposed your collar bones to him and standup in between his legs. He was sitting on the kitchen counter like a bored teenager with a bottle of water in his hand. He let out a cute laugh and fixed your robe.

“No. I can’t do that to you. I’m not here to ask for blood. I’m just tired and pressured because of my family. I just needed to see you” he smiled so sweetly again, making you fall in love with his gaze. Even though he’s tired and weak to the core he can still make your heart flutter.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer. If you don’t drink my blood, you can never see me again” it was a dangerous bargain but you had to try. You came closer to him, felt his cold skin, smelled his cologne, and hope that he smells your blood. It was a struggle for him and he enjoys your sweet torture. Until he finally gave in.  

“Just one swig,” he says.

“That’s all I want to happen. Please, you look dead” you insist.

He took his time untying your robe, remove it from you and watch it hit the tiled kitchen floor. He kissed your neck like the gentleman that he is making you weak and let out soft moans. His lips are cold and it sends a shiver straight to your spine. Then he bit you. Drank your blood like he’s just kissing your neck. It felt like you’re high on drugs, everything kept spinning and the moment he stopped. You feel weak and he was quick to catch you with his strong arms. Kun kissed the part where he had bit you a few seconds ago and kissed you all the way from your collar bone, neck, chin, and finally your lips.

Everything turned slow. Like a moment being kept for safekeeping and no one dares to move too fast. Scared to ruin such a beautiful moment.

You took him to your room and there you two continued that beautiful moment. He watched you remove your clothes in between his legs as he comfortably sits on the edge of your queen-sized bed. Once you discarded all your clothes and exposed your bare body to him, his hands roam freely around your body. It’s his first time, he whispered. “I’ll try not to disappoint you” he promised.  

While you help him remove his clothes, Kun learned to kiss your body. He was shy but you told him he doesn’t have to. He learned to kiss your chest, the valley between your boobs and your stomach. “Why are you avoiding my boobs?” you asked with a slight giggle, waiting for his lips to brush your perked nipple and make you shiver. He looked at you directly in the eye as he starts sucking your left nipple, then he turned to your right boob, and in a matter of minutes, he finally learned how to use his tongue. You gasped and breathed in deeply as you were just standing in between his legs, naked, shivering, and moaning at the things he’s been doing to you.

“You’re going to make me cum undone” you informed him. He stopped and leaned back, admiring your swollen nipples as if he’s proud of his work.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked oh so innocently.

“No” you pushed him slowly to the mattress, “But I’d rather cum in other different ways,” you said. This time it’s your turn to kiss his cold body and let him experience the pleasure he’s been giving you. His low groans were music to your ears when you licked his nipples while you unbutton his pants and remove it swiftly leaving him only with his boxers briefs.

Given that this is his first time, you decided to stay on top tonight and take charge. You kissed his abs, feel it with your hands, and took time kissing his lower abdomen, making the vampire impatient and push his underwear down so your lips can finally make contact with his cock. You gave him his first blow job, sucking his dick slowly and pumping it over and over again until it’s really hard and thick. “I promise to give you a proper blowjob someday” you crawled on top of him until your wet folds are coating his cock with your pussy juices.

“I can get addicted to you, you know that?” he says and smiled before you reach for his lips to distract him as you line his cock to your entrance and slowly sink down on him. His reaction was something you will never forget, the sound that he made once he’s fully inside you. You intertwined your fingers with him before you roll your hips deliciously.

“Ready?”

“Yeah- Oh, ahh” he part his lips and did not get shy anymore as he continues to let out his moans and feel your warm walls around him. He pulled your body closer to him, wanting to never leave those beautiful lips of yours. You made his arms rest on your hips, as you bounce up and down on his cock with utmost care. There’s no need to go wild and crazy for tonight. Everything is perfect.

“I’m close” he admitted. But you didn’t stop moving your hips.

“Can you make me pregnant?” you cage his head with your arms, your face is close to him so you can nip his lower lip and kiss him every second.

“I can’t” he answers your question. There was a slight disappointment of course. But this is not the right time to think about having kids.

“What are you waiting for? Let go and cum inside me”

Kun did what you said and had the time of his life, enjoying his first orgasm from having sex. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t cum tonight, Kun’s cock felt great and that alone satisfies you. He didn’t let you go for some time, you stayed on top of him as he continues to kiss and talk to you while he still enjoys your warmth.  

Soon, you lay beside him and covered you with your clean thick sheets. You talked some more, about things that are intimate and are for the two of you only. You never felt so happy being in the arms of a… vampire. You felt alive again but you don’t say it out loud, you just wanted to bask at this moment with Kun and feel the happiness flood your heart.  

“How are you feeling?” you asked. Maybe he needed more blood?

“I’m feeling just fine. Thank you. And I’m not talking about the sex and your blood. Thank you for letting me in your life” he was holding your hand while drawing small circles using his cold thumb.

That night, you two slept really late and talked more about life and the things you wanted. You learned that the two of you are very different from each other but you’re ready to love him deeply and he’s ready to take great risk for you too. And you think the beauty of loving someone so different from you is a different kind of great love.

Kun’s cold figure still hugs you tightly when you wake up the next day. The morning light hits his skin perfectly that he shines effortlessly. “fuck” you muttered and quickly tried getting out from his cold embrace to close the curtains. But he tugs you even closer to his body making you panic even more, “are you hurt?”

“No” he kissed you good morning and sweetly requests, “can we stay a little bit longer like this? I still don’t want to face the day”

You raked his hair away from his face and gave him his morning kisses, “we can stay like this forever” you said.

“Does that mean you’re accepting immortality?-“

“That’s not what I meant”

“Oh”

Even so, being human and vampire in a relationship did not stop you two from loving each other without bounds. Every day has been nothing but happiness with Kun even though you both have your own disappointments with yourselves. You’re disappointed with writing, he’s disappointed with his family’s business. Every bit of the relationship was not easy but you two chose to be happy together every day and face each day together.

He starts calling your house his home because you are his home and you don’t mind him calling you that. It makes you happy. Every day, when the sky turns to your favorite shade of orange, Kun will ring your doorbell and you will welcome him home with kisses and warm hugs.

Soon, you two became confident about telling each other everything about your family. And for the first time, talking about them didn’t make you sad, but rather happy because you can share that part of your life with Kun who listens to every word you say attentively. He told you that his mom was the one who told him to give you books to read, give you flowers and treat you with respect. His stories about his family make you want to meet them someday. It will not be easy but, “We will get here eventually”

Speaking of eventually, he finally learned how to fuck after a few nights of making love with Kun. He finally became confident in bed, making you moan his name over and over again. Memorizing every inch of the places you loved being touched the most. Oh, he’s a fast learner and a great one if you’re being honest to the point that night after night you grip the sheets so hard because he was fucking you good.

Perfect. Everything is perfect.

“Good morning” you greet him with loving kisses as always before you make your coffee. He’s still shirtless and just wearing his pajamas while he makes breakfast. You hugged him from behind and enjoy his cold skin on a beautiful warm morning. “Can we stay like this forever?” you asked, hugging him tightly.

“Is that a yes for immortality?” he’s serious when it comes to ‘immortality’ but it never annoyed you because it’s his love language. You understand him.

“I want to be with my family, Kun” you bit his shoulder playfully and placed soft kisses after. He loves it when you do that.

“And I don’t want to watch you die,” he asked for a kiss on lips, which you gave happily.

“Why are we having this conversation?” you roll your eyes.

“You’re right. I love you, I’m sorry”

See. Push and pull. And it’s a decision that one day you’re going to face and not even ‘i love yous’, ‘i’m sorry’, hugs or kisses will solve that problem for you. Someday he will not joke about it. And you’re scared because the question is, family or Kun?  

During the day, you kept thinking about the conversation you had with Kun before breakfast. It made you think hard and ran through every loophole. You imagined life without Kun, you imagined him watch you die in a hospital bed, and you imagine not being with your family ever again. Every decision broke your heart.

When Kun finally came home, you try shrugging the thought of making a decision one day and admire your boyfriend as he is about to prepare you dinner.

Having a very handsome vampire in your kitchen cooking you good food is definitely one for the books. It’s like watching a live cooking show and you’re the only audience who can taste what he’s cooking. The way he walks around and smiles at you from time to time is making you feel things you shouldn’t be feeling. Heck, even watching him sprinkle salt and pepper, chop the peppers, and squeeze some lemon is making your heart jump.

Such a waste.

All these talents for singing, great skills at the kitchen, handsome face… And yet he chose to live in darkness. You have nothing against the vampire, he didn’t choose to be born as a bloodsucker, but he did choose to serve his family. His number one mistake, honestly speaking.

“If you’re not a vampire, what would you want to be?” you asked him bluntly, sipping on your wine while you watch him cook. “I hope you know that you’re talented and that if you embrace being a human you can be many things. For starters, you can be a cook at a famous restaurant or a pilot”

“Are we seriously having this conversation?” he chuckles, turns off the stove and faced you, leaning on the kitchen counter, looking handsome as ever, “Do me a favor and imagine yourself being 200 years old still looking young and beautiful. Or being happily married for hundreds of years. With me” he left a kiss on your forehead and goes back to plating the food.

The words ‘happily married’ doesn’t sound so bad.

“So you’re telling me that if we stayed like this, vampire and human, and I’m finally old and wrinkly, you won’t love me anymore?” you tease him, not letting him know that the idea of being married affects you.

“Why can’t we have a normal dinner without being on each other’s throats? Come on let’s eat. Grab the wine please,” he offered his cold hand to help you come down from the stool and go together to the dining area.

Before eating he did notice you were spacing out, he puts down his spoon and fork and reached for your hand. “Look at me,” he says, “Vampire or not I’m going to marry you and we’ll live happily together”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Now, come on eat. Tell me if it’s delicious, I just learned this from the cooking show I’ve been watching”  

The constant push and pull continued. Your relationship has always been a never-ending convincing each other to be something you’re not. But ever since you let Kun in your life happiness is present in your life again and you’re worried that maybe someday that happiness will be taken away from you again. Kun is literally the reason why you smile first thing in the morning and sleep peacefully at night.

After having dinner and you two are ready for bed, you can’t stop thinking about the conversation you had this morning. The decision you’ve been thinking about has been running in your mind the whole day but there's another thought that’s been bugging you all along and you’ve been wanting to ask Kun.

“Can you really not die?”

He must be tired. He closed his eyes and kept you close. You wait for his answer but it seems like he doesn’t want to keep the conversation. Then he looks at you, “I can. I just have to be careful. I can die like how humans die except for dying at old age” he explains and you don’t want to pry further. “I'm scared of dying, you know. There’s so much I want to do in my life even before I met you. But since then I became even more scared to death. This world holds everything important to me, my family, and you. I can’t die” he answered your question honestly of course.

The next day, Kun woke up before you because he’s been planning to do something lately but can’t execute his plans correctly. He was about to do it last night but you asked him a heavy question so he didn’t have a choice but to set aside his intentions first.

He carefully opened the bedside drawer and reached for the tiny object inside. Since he doesn’t know anything about romance, he doesn’t know how to propose beautifully to you. So he went for something he’s confident with. Honesty. He grabs your hand and slips the ring on your finger, carefully but his movements still woke you up.

Any girl would freak out seeing her boyfriend propose to her the moment she opens her eyes in the morning. The diamond is quite big and it made you gasp. Not that you cared about the rock but the fact that Kun just proposed to you the moment you wake up is just enough reason to panic.

But he made a ’Shh’ sign that made you follow him and kept yourself quiet. You feel your heart thumping and beating so fast at this moment that you want to burst out of happiness already but Kun is calm in front of you. Just calm.

“Listen” all you hear are birds chirping and comfortable silence, “peaceful right?” you nod your head, “Let’s never break that peace in our relationship. I don't know how to make things easier for us but let's start with, no more push and pull. Last night I promised you that vampire or not, I’m gonna marry you and this is me keeping that promise. I would rather watch you die at old age, wrinkly and weak than lose you” He kissed your hand, and the panic that you’ve been savoring is long forgotten. Instead of screaming your lungs out because of too much happiness, you kissed each other and engraved that beautiful moment in your hearts.

And because you and Kun have been living together for quite some time now, you’ve become the talk of the town. Everyone thought that Kun is keeping you hostage and is only using you to get the house and to get the whole town. Even though he has been really successful in buying lives lately and earning the people’s loyalty in this town, the ones who strongly refused Kun’s offer is now making a plot behind his back.

A plot where they plan to kill him and save you. They’re just waiting for the perfect timing to strike the vampire.

“He’s just using you to get the house. Of course, he had to marry you so he can have legal rights to your house. Trust me, that vampire will leave you” Sophie hated Kun so much that when you told her that you’re engaged she didn’t take it lightly. The old woman shoos you out of her store and told you to be smarter. It’s sad how she can’t see that you’re really happy with Kun.

When you got home from grocery shopping, you wait for Kun to arrive before you leave him for one night to meet your manager back to the city. It pains you to be away from Kun. It’s like there's this magnet that’s keeping you near him and stopping you from leaving the house but finally, you finished a good book. All thanks to Kun. Your manager wanted to meet you so you can work on the details and finally, go back to the world and show everyone how you’ve been.  

“The city is great. You sure you don’t want to come? There's a lot of vampires in the city-“

“And my fiance is a famous writer. Who’s about to have her come back to the industry that she loves. I don’t want to give you a problem before you can even go back out there. People will not take it lightly if they see you with me” he kissed you and hope that you will not argue with him further.

“But we just got engaged. I don’t want to be away from you” you pout like a little girl.

“Well then come home soon” he smiles sweetly to you and finally made you stop your whining.

Leaving home never felt so wrong. But you realized, he’s right. You just have to come home soon.

When you were back in the city and in the familiar office of your manager, you can’t help but feel out of place. Is this really what you want? Because if your manager agrees to publish this new work of yours, that means you have to leave home again. You have to leave Kun and live in the city. Something you think you can’t handle. It's like making the same mistakes again.

“I love it! You’re back- amazing work. I have to meet this vampire that you’re talking about. The one who inspired you to write this beautiful masterpiece. Ugh! Welcome back!” he exclaims excitedly. But his approval did not make you excited or anything. You’re happy of course, but you’ve been thinking about coming home and telling Kun the good news.

“Are we done here?”

“Uh- yes, bu-“

“Great. Call me if you need anything. I have to go home now. Thank you” you shake his hand and bid him goodbye. You were quick to get out of there and head home already. The plan was to stay the night in your old apartment, but you can’t. You really can’t. It’s almost 3 in the morning and Kun must be sleeping already because he hasn’t answered your calls. You drove excitedly while playing with the ring on your finger, thinking about how to spend the following days with Kun as an engaged couple.

When you finally arrived in town, people in their sleep wears welcomes you in the street. But their faces looked worried and concerned. What’s happening, you murmured. Since a lot of people are blocking the street you decided to get out of the car and check what’s happening.

“Y/n… the house….” someone shouted.

“My house?” you ran as fast as you can to see what they’re talking about. Hoping that everything is fine and that Kun is safe and not inside the house.

Then you see it.

It was your favorite shade of orange. Eating your house, ruining your home. You watched the house burn and you never thought that watching it will make you hate something you used to love ever since you were just a kid. You wanted the bright colors to fade. Your hands are shaking as you call for help. Screaming at the top of your lungs as people try to stop you from running towards your house.

“Kun!” you screamed and asked for him but no one is answering you.

Sophie tried to make you listen to her while you push everyone away. “I’m sorry. We had to do this. The town was slowly dying and turning into a vampire town. Y/n! He will leave you in the end or worst, he will change you” she was apologizing but you didn’t want to listen to her anymore. You slapped the old woman and tried to kick her with all your might but the people are quick to stop you.

The fire spread so fast that Kun didn’t have time to save himself. He tried calling for help but the lines were already cut. It’s obvious the fire was planned. He was trying so hard to escape death, coughing and covering his mouth, crying while he bangs through the door that seems to be locked from the outside. I don’t want to die. He repeats over and over again, thinking about his family, his brothers, and of course you.

But he couldn’t go out. He banged through the door until his last breath and strength but it did nothing. Soon the fire ate him and all he can do is scream through the pain, cry, and accept death.

The next thing you know, you’re at the hospital. You see your manager sleeping on the couch. Tears started falling but you don’t know why. On top of that, your heart feels heavy. It’s a familiar feeling, you thought. Like when the news that your family died reached you.

Then you see your ring. And suddenly you understand why you started crying out of nowhere and why that familiar feeling of losing someone is back.

Kun is dead.

And once again you’re back to rock bottom but this time you don’t have a home or a place to help you heal.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Bloodstone | Part 10 (Final)

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: grief over loss, cursing

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

You knew Namjoon was gone before you opened your eyes. The foreboding feeling made you clamp your eyelids together instead, refusing to face reality just yet.

Although you had been concerned with how you would cope without Namjoon in your world, as you laid as still as you could possess, your mind ran towards thoughts of his safety. Was he alive? Did he find himself in a place he was familiar with? Was he trapped in another dimension?

Blindly searching for signs of his disappearance, you gasped when something sharp pierced your skin, snapping your eyes open. There, embedded into your finger and allowing the crimson blood to trickle from the wound was a shard of crystal.

Your emotions flooded you then. Collecting up the pieces of the shattered stone, you rocked back and forth, clutching them to your chest. You wailed out in pain for your loss. You screamed to the heavens in anger. You silently allowed the emotions to fall from your eyes, feeling numb from the whole experience.

Eventually, you lost consciousness.

“Y/N? Y/N!” a voice called out and groggily you peered through an eyelid, a panic-stricken Yoongi appearing before you.

So, it wasn’t all a horrible dream after all.

“Are you okay?”

Holding out your hand to show Yoongi the shattered state of the stone and your heart, you blinked when your palm came up empty. Sitting up hurriedly and looking around yourself, you found your space void of any signs of Namjoon and the stone.

Yoongi sighed. “It’s probably whole again.”

“Bastard rock.”

“It’s been three days since I saw you. I don’t know why I didn’t come sooner. I just felt this strong urge to come and check on you. It was almost as if Namjoon infiltrated my mind. Sounds really crazy, doesn’t it?”

You attempted to laugh hollowly. “Yoongi, hasn’t everything we’ve experienced for the last few weeks been unreal?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“I’m glad you remember him,” you admitted in a small voice, swallowing down the growing lump in your throat. “I was worried life would return to before he arrived here and I’d go insane being the only one with the knowledge that he existed.”

With time, life did recover some normalcy. After mourning for another week, you managed to pull yourself up every morning, consume a mug of coffee to help battle with the fatigue you were experiencing and returned to your job. You ate the same foods you had with Namjoon, and with some time, you began to smile with the fond memory as opposed to tearfully choking the spoonfuls down. You did the things you wanted to with Namjoon one by one, hoping that ticking them off your list honoured his short and tumultuous stay in your world. You kept a journal, but unlike the one Eliza had avidly written with Namwoo at her side, you chose to document the things you did without Namjoon. It held you accountable for keeping to your promise.

It was hard to live without Namjoon, but you were determined to do so.

Still, nights were the worst. You still dreamed of him. His touch felt real within your slumber, the sensual sighs and whispered love confessions lingering even after you became alert. It was difficult to grapple with what was real and a faint memory when you opened your eyes for the first time each morning. Swallowing down the disappointment when you realised your bed was cold and empty of his presence grew harder the longer he was away.

You had endured six months without the man who had turned your world upside down with mere weeks together.

Strangely, the ring had also gone missing. When the stone had left it just a silver shell that you had placed within the drawer of your bedside table. After several weeks of recovering from Namjoon’s disappearance, you had opened the drawer to look at the ring. Even after emptying all the contents onto your bed, it had eluded you. You had searched your entire home upside down for it, even going as far as to check at the comic store as well.

The ring had gone just like Namjoon had.

“What do you want to do with all of this?” Yoongi asked when you visited him again, pointing to the stack of books. You eyed them curiously until you realised what they were. Thinking back to the day he had walked out of your apartment carrying them all, you sighed heavily. You had been so optimistic that Yoongi would find an answer in them.

And he had. It was just not one you had hoped for.

Grinning, you shrugged. “Should we burn them?”

“You want to close that chapter of your life for good?” Yoongi wondered and you shook your head. “I didn’t think so. Why be so dramatic in answer then?”

“Weren’t you the one who claimed this was all sounding a bit like Lord of the Rings? Doesn’t Frodo throw the ring into the fires of Mordor?”

“You don’t have the ring anymore to throw out even if you could.”

“No, the ring left its owner. I hope it’s not harassing another poor soul with the idea of love. It needs to be destroyed for good.”

“Perhaps Namjoon took it with him.”

“I strangely miss it,” you murmured, looking at your finger. Despite not wearing it for some time, the indent it had made upon your skin remained. It made you shiver, feeling a sense of emptiness.

Distracting yourself from the depressing concept, you reached for the stack of books, dragging them towards yourself and off the countertop. Yoongi appeared at your side, gauging if you needed his help to balance them. After rearranging the bunch a little, you shot him a satisfied smile. “I’ll take them back home. I’m sure they’ll find their places upon the bookshelves again.”

“Having them back might help with more closure to the situation,” Yoongi offered and you shared a hopeful smile before heading out into the bright afternoon.

Once home, you struggled down the hallway to your final destination, guiding the bottom book up onto your desk. Relieved to let go of the weight, you wiped at your perspired brow and removed a layer of your clothing, staring at the stack of ancient texts dejectedly.

“Why did I bring you all back here?” you asked yourself before reaching for the book on the top, taking it over to the bookshelves upon the wall and finding it a place. You repeated this task until all of them were house away neatly.

“Dinner,” you mentioned when your stomach began to grumble. After making yourself a bowl of ramen, you returned to the study to spend some time on your computer. It was about an hour into your online perusing that you heard a thud behind you from the shelf. Spinning around in the computer chair, you noticed a book had fallen to the floor. Getting up to retrieve it, you stopped when you realised what book it was.

It was the one that held the information about the ring. Gulping as the hairs stood up on your arms, you gingerly reached out for it, picking it up and cradling its spine. “You belong on the shelf now.”

Hesitating to place it back, you instead found yourself flipping through the book, ending up on the page that had changed your world all those months ago. Fingering the ancient ink gently, you winced at the pain forming in your chest and shook your head. “It’s too early for me to contemplate this fondly.”

Placing the book back on the shelf, you turned around, stopping a second time when your gaze caught something on the floor reflecting under the lights.  Stooping down to retrieve it, you couldn’t believe it.

“You weren’t here before, now were you?” you asked of the ring, rapidly looking around the room.

“No, but nor was I,” a voice mentioned with a hint of amusement and you stopped searching when your eyes landed on the purple-haired man in the doorway. Namjoon smiled and nodded as if to answer your disbelief. “I’m back, Y/N.”

It had appeared again.

This time, however, the stone hadn’t arrived alone before him. It was firmly embedded in the silver that you had once shown him and after staring at it for some time, Namjoon boldly reached out to pick it up.

After everything he had gone through because of this stone, he was no longer scared, if anything, he hoped its arrival meant something would happen to take him back to you.

It wasn’t hard to fall back into routine at home. Marian had during his disappearance turned to the local farmer’s son for support and now that Namjoon was back, he hardly saw the girl. It came as no surprise to him when she came home proclaiming she would marry Jungkook. And once she was married, the house felt fuller than before.

Namjoon yearned to leave again. He was satisfied his sister would have someone to cherish her for always. Admittedly, their shy love for one another only made him crave you. His heart ached more often than not and so to avoid their newlywed bliss, Namjoon spent from dawn to dusk working in the gem studio. But even they didn’t amaze him as much as before either.

The ring appearing whole certainly piqued his interest though. “Are you here to take me home?”

Inspecting it up close, he noticed it no longer glowed. The stone was no longer red even. It was golden, affectionate and inviting. It felt warm and fluttered when he closed his palm around it. He smiled, letting out a laugh soon after. Holding the ring made him feel connected to you again as if he was close enough to reach out for your world and dive back into it.

Closing his eyes, he found the warmth in his palm turning scorching hot, letting it go instantly. Hearing the ring clatter to the ground, Namjoon opened his eyes and looked around himself.

“Where did you go?” he wondered, dropping onto his hands and knees on the floor, searching under the desk for the ring. Crawling through the gap to the opposite side, he frowned when his hand touched something fluffy and soft. Blinking rapidly, he gripped onto the fibres before leaping to his feet and wildly glancing around himself.

“I’m not dreaming right?” he murmured, feeling all over his body for any telltale signs. And then he grinned, staring at all your homely clutter. He hadn’t realised he had missed it all until he soaked them in with his stunned focus, even dropping onto the couch to hug it. “I’m home!”

It was then that he realised he hadn’t found the ring yet. Going along the hallway, Namjoon’s breath halted when he saw the light on in the study.

Hearing you talk to the books made his chest swell and he stopped just before the door, listening on for some time. It seemed you found the ring that had granted him passage back here and after listening to you a moment longer, Namjoon stepped forward, finally catching your gaze.

“You’re real?” you asked after he told you he was back and Namjoon merely opened his arms, waiting for your impact.

Dashing across the room to enter his waiting embrace, he held you tightly to his chest once you collided against it. “I’m back. This time for good.”

“How do you know?” you wondered, looking up at him earnestly.

Namjoon reached for the ring you had in your grip and held it up. “It brought me back here. And look, it’s no longer the stone of blood.”

Inspecting the golden colour, you then glanced at the book and paled. “It’s something else now?”

“Maybe for this lifetime it’s just happy to finally succeed in bringing two lovers together.”

“I don’t trust it just yet but if it brought you back to me, then that’s something.”

Laughing, Namjoon placed it upon your finger. It glowed once before it settled completely. You eyed him suspiciously and Namjoon shrugged.

“I expect a proper proposal when the time comes.”

“You know I’ve had a long time to piece one together during my wait to see you again.”

“You know what else I’ve had a long time to think over?” you asked and Namjoon waited for you to continue. “What it truly feels like to have you kiss me once again.”

Leaning down to meet you midway, love blindly led you both into a realm of passion and reconnection during the embrace. He felt his heart soar and then collide into yours, firmly embedding itself there much as the stone had into his chest once. This time though, he knew there was nothing that could shatter this bond.

You were his truest love.

_________________

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[liddolwhynot2000]

Decisions Of a Capricorn

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Summary: Levi Ackerman woke up one fine morning. In the past. Shit.

Genre: Angst, lets-change-shit, drama, liddol romance (Levixhappiness)

Warning: Manga spoilers

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Chapter 1: Admit it

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Summary: As a Capricorn, patience and determination are amongst your most well known qualities. Although no one is immune to occasional frustrations, you attempt to be understanding and calm in all your dealings.

Alternatively, Levi tries to make sense of what the hell is going on and tries not to chose violence.

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What. the. Fuck.

This couldn't be happening, it seriously couldn't. Was it a dream? No, he had punched his fist into a wall, pinched himself but still, it all felt too real. Maybe he was in some sort of fucked up heaven? Whatever the case, he felt ready to throw hands with whatever deity had done this to him.

With a shaky breath, Levi began to calm himself and sort through the situation. His fingers were back, he could see from his left eye again. There weren't any scars on his face nor any bandages on his chest. Levi was, by all means, back to his prime. Which would be great news really, except he was apparently five fucking years in the past. At least he thought it was five, considering the very much alive faces of his Special Ops Squad.

He had woken up, disorientated, expecting to either be bleeding out or in hell with Erwin. The sight of his impeccably clean office had made him pause. When he had heard a knock on the door and automatically told the person to come in, he had damn near short circuited at the sight of a very much alive Eld, strolling in with a cup of steaming tea.

What. The. Fuck.

Years of dealing with Hange and titans and the bullshit called life had hardened Levi to the point he could keep his expression neutral infront of the teen. He listened as Eld prattled on about duties and nodded along, not trusting himself to speak lest he shatter the world he had ended up in.

'.. Captain we'll be leaving for the castle today with Eren..'

Eren. Eren fucking Yeager. Oh God, he was going to kick this brats ass. Even if this likely was nothing more then an illusion, he would whoop Eren to hell and back for the shit he had put them through-

'Umm- captain?'

Snapping out of his vivid strangling Eren fantasies, he composed himself.

'We'll leave shortly. Prepare for the journey.

'Yes Sir!'

On second thought, Levi thought as he leaned back in his chair, whatever deity had thrown him here might deserve a little thanks. He owed Yeager a black eye. Scratch that, he owed both Yeagers a black eye. Well, in Zeke's case it was more of a blade through his throat. Maybe he could at least achieve that in his dream world.

____________________________________

'.... So the mission plan is..'

Levi had spent the last 5 years missing his dear friend. He had truly cherished Erwin, and hadn't enjoyed his own part in the man's death. But, he had forgotten how tedious and boring meetings with him were. Just how did the man go on and on about this crap and not lose his mind? And how had he ever listened along and not bashed someone's, preferably his own, head on the wall?

Sipping his tea, he silently wondered how long this was going to last. The weird fantasy he was stuck was exceptionally accurate, not a thing out of place. It was almost as if it was all real. But he knew better then to delude himself, and so was only really playing along until he was back in his own time. Or world. Or whatever. The figuring out what-the-hell-is-going-on was more of Hange's thing. Speaking of which, Levi paused mid sip as someone kicked the door open, interrupting Erwin mid speech.

'....Ness and his squad are in the right-'

'ERWWWIINNNN'.

Levi perked up. Just a few hours ago, he had seen the exuberant woman burn to death. One of his closest friends was suddenly alive and well and absolutely fi-

'PLEASE LET ME EXPERIMENT ON EREN PLE-'.

And, just as obnoxiously loud as ever, he chuckled to himself. He watched as she enthusiastically shook Erwin, demanding Eren for herself. The usually composed blonde commander looked like he wished he was the commander of any other military branch as he fended her off. Moblit could only try and fail to pull her away.

This Hange looked just as youthful she had been before becoming commander. Her eyes bright, arms flailing around like a tornado, voice screeching higher then it should be legal. It was the Hange that had been missing for quite some time now-replaced by an overburdened, tired version of herself. It felt good to see her rampaging around and giving Moblit heart problems and probably reducing his lifespan. Just like the old times.

'Hey shitty four eyes.'

'Hi Le..vi..'

Hange trailed off, clearly stunned. Erwin raised an eyebrow at him while Levi nonchalantly set his tea cup down.

'What? You constipated?'

'No, it's just, you never say hi to me..'

'Yes I do.'

Hange went on as though she hadn't heard him.

'....While smiling like that.'

Oh. That explained alot. Levi hastily corrected his expression, he had gotten too caught up in his relief of seeing Hange alive and actually smiled at her. Said woman, however, was suddenly in his face, hand resting on his forehead.

'Do you have a fever? What if this is a side effect of titan shifters on short people-'

'Shut the fuck up four eyes.'

'And he's back to normal. So, Erwin, I need Eren to myself for-'

'Hange- you're talking too fast-'

'Section Commander please calm down-'

'....We have so many experiments to conduct. What if there are titans attracted to Eren? What if he gives off pheremones and they want to MATE with him?'

The entire room went silent. Moblit looked like his soul had left his body, Erwin and Levi stared at her in disbelief. The former looked ready to hand in his resignation to God for his existence and the latter looked irritated.

Thankfully, Erwin spoke up first, before Levi could attempt to throw Hange out the window.

'That's enough. We won't be putting him through experiments that we know have no basis-'

Levi watched as Erwin began lecturing a pouting Hange. He poured a cup of tea and nudged it towards Moblit, who tossed him a grateful look.

A part of him wanted to smile, happy to be back with the people he cared about. To have his comrades alive and well in front of him. It gave him a sense of peace that he hadn't had in a long time.

But, ever the pessimistic, he dashed his own hopes.

None of this was real.

____________________________________

It was an effort, but through sheer will power, Levi managed to curb his violent urge to beat the shit out of Eren. Instead, he allowed them to make their journey to the castle, feeling hazy and distracted. His squad and Eren chattered as he rode ahead on his horse. He could vaguely make out Olou obnoxiously picking on Eren and biting his tongue. Just like the last time he had been there.

He couldn't bring himself too look at them for too long, the horrifying scenes of their deaths would start flashing in his mind. Too long his nightmares had consisted of the deaths of the people riding alongside him. He often darkly imagined that they had blamed him. For not getting there in time. For not telling them about the female titan. For being a useless, shitty captai-

Levi cut off that train of thought. Not now. Not when they were in front of him, so full of life.

Seeing his squad, alive and bickering like usual, it was too good of a sight to pass up. Olou childishly imitating him, Eld and Gunther poking fun at Petra and Olou, Eren floundering about as though he wasn't planning on mass murdering billions of people in five years. It made him miss them even more, knowing none of what was happening was actually happening.

He had spent years mourning his comrades. When Paradise had begun advancing in technology, when they had seen the ocean and explored what was on the other side of it, he had missed all of them. Achieving so much without them had always left him feeling a little empty.

How long was this journey going to last? How long would he spend in this fantasy world? Why was he even here? Maybe he was still alive and hallucinating about the people of his past. This was all in his head, the dying dreams of a useless old man taking his last breathes. As they reached the castle, he immediately gave orders for cleaning the filthy place.

He would mourn his own failures later.

____________________________________

Later at night, Levi sat in his chair, feeling his frustration return to him full force. Dream world or not, it didn't change how useless he had become. Losing to that shitty monkey, getting so brutally injured, unable to contribute a damn thing to the battle. Armin had gotten kidnapped right in front of his eyes, Connie had nearly died and Mikasa of all people had to save him . He was the one those idiots called humanity's strongest yet he had been nothing but cannon fodder. A burden.

He hadn't been able to do shit for them. Zeke was still alive, a horde of shitty titans with limitless energy were blocking their way to Eren, they had no supplies and no way of leaving the battlefield without Armin. An absolutely pathetic situation--and it had been all his fault.

If only he had killed Zeke back in the forest. If he had chopped his head off and burned his body to ashes, none of this would have happened. Eren had needed Zeke to activate the rumbling, without him, none of this would have happened. So many lives had been lost because of that monkey, turned into mindless titans and slaughtered. Commander Pixis, Nile..

And he was the one who let it get that far.

Rather then ending the entire battle in a flash- he had made a mistake. A mistake that had cost them too much. His own abilities and the lives of his comrades. He would never be able to sleep in peace again.

With Zeke dead, they would have had time. Eren would need Historia for the rumbling and would have had to wait till she gave birth. They could have talked things through--or sealed Eren up or even given Eren's power to someone else. Anything would have been better then the senseless genocide Eren had launched.

A part of him also questioned if he was to blame for Eren lashing out like this. Coming up with such a plan, going against the military.. Why had Eren not trusted him? He hadn't been the nicest but, Levi felt a pang of hurt as thought about how much he had sacrificed for Eren. His comrades and their lives had been reduced to less then dirt particles, to keep Eren alive. Only for him to turn on them so easily. If Eren and Zeke had been really working together, did that mean he had known Zeke would try to kill him? Was there anything he could have done to change the outcome of all of this? Just where had he messed up with Eren and lost track of him? Despite all the questions plaguing him, he knew he couldn't undo the past. Dwelling on it like this was doing him no favours.

And now, here he was, despite his failiures, in tip top shape, completely okay. Yet he wasn't where he was needed. His brats were fighting for their lives and here he was fantasising about a better life as though he hadn't just damned all the others.

Scowling fiercely, he forced himself to calm down. Nothing would make how miserable he was feeling go away. He could only wait for himself to wake up and face his reality. Hopefully, he would be the only casualty in the mission. He wasn't sure he could look any of them in the eye again if he lived and one of them hadn't. Sasha's death had already been too much for him.

His headache wouldn't go away, so he went to make himself some tea. Only, he found himself stopping short at the sound of someone sniffling. Levi discreetly approached the source of the sound.

Remus Ferguson

The brat had been in the survey corps for about a year now. If Levi recalled right, he had lost his girlfriend in the last expedition, which explained the tears so late at night. Remus himself would die when the female titan attack-

Wait.

What. The. Fuck.

He hadn't seen this before. Everything so far, every interaction, it had occurred before. But this hadn't. He hadn't seen remus crying last time. He had known of Remus crying up a storm at night, courtesy of his squad members. But he hadn't witnessed it first hand.

Watching the teen sob, he began rationalising the events of today.

If he was in some self constructed fantasy world, why wasn't it all happy? Why were there still titans? Why was anyone in pain? Where were Isabel and Farlan? He knew he had never wanted to see any of his comrades in pain. Unless...this wasn't just a dying man's fantasy..

If he had to fantasise about a happier time in his life, wouldn't it be with his mother? He had always known that the one thing he had wanted most in the past twenty something years was to feel his mother's warmth again. To hear her sweet voice sing him a lullaby to sleep. So if he really was dying, why see this? Why be back at a time where everything was just okay? Why not a time where he was actually happy?

In fact, why not a world where he everyone he wanted to be alive was alive? Rather then a dream, it felt like he had been plucked from one time period and left to live his life from another one...

His mind raced as he finally reached a conclusion, and without a second thought he fled back to his room, too shocked to acknowledge his new discovery.

____________________________________

A knife had been Levi's companion in life far longer then any other human being. His mother, Kenny, Isabel, Farlan, Erwin, Hange and all his other comrades had come and gone. But knives had been consistent. Constant.

Even after he had escaped the clutches of the underground and its lawlessness, he had always carried one with him. It made him feel safe, knowing he had weapon-- even if it was virtually useless while fighting titans. Of course, Erwin hadn't known about it. It was the one thing he wasn't willing to be talked out of, even by Erwin.

Although, Levi mused to himself, Erwin would have been justified in taking it away if he could see him right now, pointing said weapon at his arm, ready to slice.

If he actually bled, if he was still sitting here, bleeding but alive and well, he would admit his findings to himself and move forward, just as he always had. He would accept the situation, no matter how crazy it seemed, and plan accordingly.

Resolving himself, he slid the knife.

Ten minutes later, Levi finally admitted it.

He had travelled back in time.

____________________________________

A/N: So this idea got stuck in my head, because I rewatched AOT and realized a bunch of stuff that could be changed. I picked Levi because he's my favorite. There's going to be more parts for this--where Levi just changes everything. And it'll basically end up a happier AOT. And yes, I plan on giving Levi some romance in this too, because this boi deserves it 😤. It won't be complete happiness and fluff, because I plan on it being realistic. I also don't know if anyone would actually like this but the urge to write it was too great. So, till next time!⭐

[brownshouto]

With the Sun in your hands

The first time Mafuyu came in contact with snow, he was exposed, skin untouched by cold tenderness. He awaited cruelty; snow is harsh, it makes winter ruthless, it shows no mercy, but unlike what he was expecting, its touch was soothing, soft, comforting. 

Continue readind under the cut or on Ao3

Winter had a reputation; its cold seeped into your bones, snow burnt your skin until nothing but frostbitten flesh was left.

Mafuyu, a winter baby, grew up in a house on fire. There was no moment the flares wouldn't lick his skin, leaving angry welts on its wake. His mother, a wilting flower under the extreme heat, did all she could to shield him from the flame but he was inevitably burnt by it eventually.

The first time he came in contact with snow, he was exposed, skin untouched by cold tenderness. He awaited cruelty; snow is harsh, it makes winter ruthless, it shows no mercy, but unlike what he was expecting, its touch was soothing, soft, comforting.

Yuki arrived in his life like a blizzard. He turned his world upside down at first, very much like a first friend does, and then when his world indeed started collapsing on itself, he was the cooling snowflakes that graced his skin with kindness after the flames had hurt him, he held his hand steady as the hot air of the fire threatened to suffocate him.

"Mafuyu, as long as I'm here, no one is going to hurt you again." There was no way a child could be sure of that, but Mafuyu let the comforting words wash over him. He gripped Yuki's hand tighter, and at that moment, his promise appeared to him like words carved in stone, a magical contract never to be broken.

Mafuyu woke up to one of the earliest memories he had of Yuki. They were sitting down under the same tree where Yuki first found Mafuyu, their fingers intertwined. Yuki had dropped those words as Mafuyu watched him poke some bugs with a stick.

He smiled wistfully at the memory of the long broken promise, after all, death overwrites all contracts. He wondered if eight-year-old Yuki would have made the same vow had he known Mafuyu was destined to be the one to hurt him. Mafuyu closed his eyes momentarily; he could go back to sleep for a little while longer, he could bask in the early memories of Yuki, that ached so profoundly, or he could wake up to feed Kedama.

He ended up getting up; he had a dog to take care of and a flat to tidy up before his boyfriend came over to hang out during their rest day. He let a small smile grace his lips. His boyfriend Uenoyama would be coming over, maybe they could cuddle, that sure would fluster him, He loved to know he had that effect on his darling. He felt fortunate to be so thoroughly adored by such a radiant soul, a heart he had to treat with care to treasure it the way Uenoyama deserved.

By midday, he had nothing to do but to regularly check his phone, waiting for the text that would let him know his boyfriend was right outside his door. After 10 minutes of sitting on the floor with Kedama on his lap, impatiently running his hands through his dog's soft fur, he picked up his phone to text his boyfriend.

                                                                       M: Where are you?

 U: omw, sorry, I had to outrun a cat.                                                                

                                                                        M: So do you want McDonald's?

U: I'll love whatever you get me.                                                                        

U: ...Sorry, that was weird.                                                                                  

                                                                       M: McDonald's it is <3 Hurry!

U: ok!                                                                                                                  

 U: <3                                                                                                                      

He beamed at his screen. His heart was beating fast; he felt impatient in the most thrilling way, anticipation to spend time with someone he loved built up in his chest, overwhelmingly warm and gentle, and so he yelled as a response to his intense emotions.

"Mafuyu! are you okay?" his mom came into his room with quick steps and a worry written all over her face.

"Sorry I was just excited." He could see her face relax, and she gifted him a blinding smile. It had been a while since he yelled because he couldn't handle his happiness or yelled at all. Ever since Yuki's death, Mafuyu's emotions have been muted, dulled and grey. Uenoyama brought back some of that intensity to his feelings; they were just too much sometimes.

"Oh, that's great! Uenoyama is coming over, right? Do you have enough money to order food? Do you want some more? I could lend you some, I worked a couple of extra hours the other day, or you can cook if you wish to, I've heard that's romantic, or you could go-"

"Mom, it's okay, we are just going to order in and watch some movies, maybe walk Kedama again." His mom had sped up through all the possibilities, and Mafuyu knew she just wanted him to have a good time.

"Oh perfect, I'll be leaving for work in a couple of minutes, text me if you need anything."

"Okay, mom, good luck."

With that, his mom left, shutting the door behind her. Not even a minute had passed when he heard a knock on his door. He got out of his room to open it, expecting it to be his mom having forgotten something like she usually does. What he didn't expect was to see a red-faced Uenoyama at his door.

"Oh... hi, Uenoyama."

"You didn't tell me your mom was going to be coming out right as I was arriving."

"She wasn't. You are late."

"That means she was going to be here when I got here with just store-bought chips and a hoodie, that's not better!"

"Are you going to stay there or are you coming in?" Mafuyu smiled softly at his embarrassed boyfriend, he knew Uenoyama was hell-bent on doing the most to ensure his mom liked his new boyfriend. Funnily enough, Yuki had been just the same, even though his mom had known him for more than half his life, he still insisted on being nothing short of a gentleman whenever she was close. Mafuyu used to tell him there was no point since she had already seen him sick and covered in vomit from eating dirt that one time when he was 8.

Ah... these were all things he wouldn't get to experience again. Mafuyu didn't even remember when was the last time he'd made fun of Yuki for that.

His melancholy must have shown on his face because Uenoyama had that weird look in his eyes, he looked disoriented, and Mafuyu hated himself for putting that expression on his face.

"Yeah, I'm coming in, if I spend one more minute in this wind, I'm going to catch a cold." He quickly stepped aside to let Uenoyama in and closed the door behind him.

"So... do you want to get settled?" You know where the sofa is." He took the bag from Uenoyama's hands. "Oh, I forgot to order the food, can you do that? I'm going to put these in a bowl.

"Okay....cheeseburger with extra cheese, lettuce and no pickles, right?"

He walked back into the living room, where Uenoyama was now fiddling with his phone while sitting on the sofa, he took the bowl of chips in his hands as he dropped next to his boyfriend and kissed his cheek "You know me best."

"O-OKAY BURGERS ORDERED!" Mafuyu found Uenoyama's reactions too adorable to handle. He wanted to draw them all out, get to know this beautiful boy sitting next to him even further, see the look on his face as he kissed his nose or brought him home-made lunch to band practice, he wanted his expressions when he took his hand and kissed his knuckles, he wanted them all.

"Which movie are we watching?" he said as he picked up the remote.

"Ah! I asked Haruki for recommendations!" Uenoyama clasped his hands in determination only to whisper the words he said next, "I guess...we could do romance if you want."

"Mmmm," he nodded slightly, "Romance sounds good."

"Good! Haruki told me about this..." Mafuyu found himself zoning out while Uenoyama selected the movie, he had no words to express how cherished he felt, Uenoyama was trying so hard to be a good boyfriend because he cared about Mafuyu. It made his chest feel tight and warm in a way it hadn't felt for a long while, for a moment guilt gripped his heart with freezing hands, reminding him of the lost love he was so eagerly letting go. No. Yuki wouldn't want this. Or would he? He couldn't want anything anymore. He was dead.  Dead .

"... and it's light-hearted according to him, do you want to watch it?" guilt squeezed his heart tighter, here he had a wonderful boy right next to him, and he couldn't give him the undivided attention he deserved, too busy mourning to be who Uenoyama needed him to be.

"Maf-"

"Yes, let's watch it." He knew Uenoyama had noticed, he always did. His eyes got this lost look that stabbed and twisted the knife deep in Mafuyu's soul every time he saw it. He knew he was responsible for it, but Uenoyama wouldn't tear his gaze away, he wouldn't run from it. He would look at Mafuyu and leave him feeling known, open and vulnerable.

He decided to cuddle up to Uenoyama to quiet his mind and stabilise his emotions. He ignored his boyfriend's squeak and placed his head below Uenoyama's chin and hugged his middle, the fabric of his hoodie was soft and brought him comfort, "Mmm, you are warm."

There was a knock on the door that made Uenoyama jolt away from the couch and upright, "IT MUST BE THE FOOD! I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!"

Mafuyu pouted to himself, his relationship with Uenoyama was riddled with awkwardness and uncertainty, but Uenoyama was worth it, this novelty was new for him as well. His previous relationship was entirely different. He and Yuki had known each other their whole life, and falling in love had been seamless. Mafuyu couldn't pinpoint the exact moment a romantic layer had been added to his love for Yuki. They just fitted together like puzzle pieces.

During the first days of his relationship with Yuki, Mafuyu would be hesitant to kiss him or hold his hand. Yuki would respect his boundaries and not push. They already knew each other like the back of their palms. He remembers the first time Yuki kissed him; he had squeaked similarly to Uenoyama even after being asked for permission, and his ex-boyfriend had thrown his head back and let out a soft laugh.

He remembers it all, the clothes they were wearing, the look in Yuki's face, the way his lips felt against his, and his...  laugh .

His laugh.... he couldn't remember his laugh. He had a vague idea of the ring of it, but he couldn't replay it in his mind.

He had forgotten his laugh! How dare he forget it? How dare he not think about Yuki enough to remember it still? How dare he forget the sound of his best friend, his lover, his life, laughing? NO! He couldn't be forgetting Yuki. This couldn't be happening. He promised himself he wouldn't forget him, not a single thing.

He forgot his laugh, he forgot, he forgot, he forgot, he forg-

"Mafuyu!" Uenoyama's voice was nothing but noise as his mind clogged up.  How could he? How could he forget and live on to find new loves when Yuki's first and last would always be Mafuyu? How dare he forget when Yuki's death was his fault? How dare he find comfort in another when Yuki would never feel anything anymore. How dare he forget what he could never hear ever again? What could he do? He couldn't bring the memory back. He couldn't bring Yuki back, ask him to laugh one last time for him. What could Mafuyu do against the all-powerful passing of time? Time was always accompanied by oblivion, and against them, he was powerless.

In the background of his mind, he could register Uenoyama shutting the windows, turning off the lights, the television. Everything was too much, and he was left unresponsive. Uenoyama sat on the couch far away from him, far enough to not overwhelm Mafuyu.

As he slowly came back, he noticed more details in his surroundings. The forgotten food on the table, the bowl of chips turned over on the floor; surprisingly, there was no mess, Uenoyama must have cleaned that up, and Kedama was in being held by his boyfriend; otherwise, he'd be all over Mafuyu.

"Uenoyama..." he whispered. He had no idea how much time had passed.

"Mafuyu... are you here with me?" he asked.

"Yes"

"Do you want to talk or do you want a distraction...."

"Please just hold me."

Uenoyama approached him and softly rearranged him into the position he was in before Uenoyama left to get the food. He tightened his arms around Mafuyu's waist as well and kissed the top of his head.

"Whatever you are thinking... you are wrong." He heard Uenoyama say.

"I forgot his laugh." With that, his boyfriend's breath hitched, "I'm sorry, you don't deserve this... having me shut down on you because of Yuki." Uenoyama just hugged him tighter.

"Hey, hey... it's okay. It's true I don't know what to do when you get that look on your face because of him, but I want to here with you."

"But-"

"I don't know what to do with these feelings Mafuyu, all I know is I want to make you happy, all of you, with the parts of you I can't understand.

"I don't want to forget him."

"I'm never going to ask that from you."

"But you deserve-"

"What about what I want? I want to be with you and to make sense of these feelings. I want to help you, even if I don't know how to. I want to be by your side."

"You don't understand. This is never going to stop! I'm going to start forgetting more of him, and I don't want to! I can't expect you to wait on me like that!" He felt tears spill from his eyes.

"I'm here because I want to, and I've wanted it long before I accepted your confession." Uenoyama refused to let go of him, and Mafuyu felt the sudden need to kiss him, and so he did. He looked up to his boyfriend and leaned in, giving him a soft kiss.

"... You make me feel happy, you make me feel loved, tell me why I wouldn't want to be with you." A blushing Uenoyama managed to get out, and Mafuyu felt warmness spread across his chest. He was happy he managed to give Uenoyama back the love that was so selflessly given to him and not just take it.

"Even if I never forget him?"

"I'm not expecting that."

"I love you." And he meant it, with all his insecurities and his baggage, he would allow himself to love Uenoyama and be loved by him, and he would choose to be with him and continue to do so every day.

Now it was time for Uenoyama to hide his face in Mafuyu's hair, "I- I love you too."

They stayed quiet for a few moments, letting time pass while they held each other tightly.  

After a while, Mafuyu took the remote and turned on the TV, "Mmm, we are watching a romantic movie, huh?"

"Yes, Haruki said it was a good movie," Uenoyama said while still hiding his face, stealing a moment to kiss Mafuyu's temple one more time before getting up to get their food.

At that moment, Mafuyu knew, he might not remember the exact shape of the snowflakes that used to soothe his wounds and tend to the welts on his skin. Still, he would never forget the cold gentleness of snow on his burning flesh, not even as the warm sun rays graced his face, but it was time for him to welcome the tenderness of heat that didn't consume or burn.

It was time for winter to welcome summer.

[catboymingi]

hurting - in this life and the next chap. 7

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, a little bit of fluff; soulmates & reincarnation au

word count: 3.9k

warnings: dissociation resulting in some self harming behaviour (reader doesn’t realise she’s getting hurt - she’s not hurting on purpose), dealing with grief, insecurities

the realisation that someone wants your happiness more than their own can be a painful one

instead of doing anything yet, mingi decided to sleep. he wouldn’t be able to do anything right now anyway, since you were asleep, and maybe yunho had come up with a solution the next day. but it was hard, falling asleep, even though you were in his arms, because he had no idea if he should tell you about it or not. he didn’t want to make you feel like he only cared about that, about being soulmates, but he also cared about that - how could he not? it by far wasn’t his main reason for liking you, but he couldn’t deny that it did affect him. and even though he’d told you that yunho liked you, too, earlier, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt for him to think that you might choose his best friend over him, even though he deserved it. he was just anxious, overthinking, or maybe thinking just the right amount, and that made it hard to sleep.

though he did fall asleep, eventually, because he was with you right now and he was your friend and that thought calmed him down enough to enter the land of dreams.

//

of course you noticed that something was odd with mingi the next day, and you brought it up, but he told you that he just felt a little weird being like this with you, even when you were just friends, when he was still mourning. he also told you that he was worried about you, about how you were feeling, and spent another one or two hours with you before leaving to make sure you’d know he did care about you and your wellbeing. then he left, still seeming awkward, uncertain and anxious, and you texted yunho, who was still texting mingi and trying to come up with what to do, though you didn’t know that.

[y/n]: ask mingi to come over, i dont think hes okay rn

and yunho knew, of course he knew that mingi was far from okay, so of course he would do that.

[yunho]: will do. ill update you once i know more, okay?

he didn’t want to snitch on his friend, he didn’t want to do anything hasty, he wanted to find a solution with mingi before any decisions were made. but he also didn’t want you to worry too much, so this seemed like a good compromise. he just hoped they’d actually find a solution, because this situation wasn’t exactly an easy one.

but because you had no idea what was going on you just waited, though it lasted for exactly ten minutes before you got tired of it and too anxious to sit still and you went to the shelter, hoping to calm down a little. there you stayed for several hours, until mingi messaged you, asking where you were and if he could come over, saying he was feeling better now and apologising for his odd behaviour that morning.

and because you were too soft for him you immediately agreed, waiting at the shelter until he came over to spend time with you.

//

yunho had asked him to come over, and of course he would. he really wanted to know what to do, he wanted to know how to handle things, he wanted to not fuck up. he wanted to do things right this time, he didn’t want to lose you again.

“hey”, the blond said as he opened the door for mingi, who moved into the flat wordlessly, throwing himself on the sofa with a loud groan.

“i take you still haven’t told her?”, which made the groan louder and had his friend cover his face with his hands.

“i just don’t know if i should”, he almost whined out, so incredibly unsure about everything right now. he wanted to be with you, but he was scared that if he’d tell you about this latest development you’d think he only cared about you for this soulmate business, something that wasn’t the case. while he hadn’t entirely forgotten about it it wasn’t his main motivation, his motivation was wanting to get to know you and getting to be with you and, in part, showing you that you weren’t just a poor copy of whoever you used to be, showing you that you were worth being cherished the way you were now. and because he knew that you wouldn’t let him, these next words left his mouth, something he’d thought more than he’d like to admit.

“i think you should tell her how you feel. it wouldn’t surprise me if she likes you, too, with the way the two of you are always talking. she trusts you, and i know you wouldn’t hurt her. maybe that’s better.”

“are you… trying to set us up?”, yunho asked, confused by the brunette’s words because this was the last thing he’d expected.

“that sounds horrible. i just want her to be happy, you know? and i know you wouldn’t let anyone make her sad, not even me.”

while that was true yunho wouldn’t do this to mingi, even if he did like you - something he’d noticed, but that he’d just accepted as unrequited feelings, because it was so obvious that his friend still meant so much to you.

“i mean, yeah, but you like her, don’t you? you could make her happy, too, just get your shit together first.”

mingi sighed loudly, a long, pained, resigned sigh.

“that’s the thing. she deserves better, don’t you think? better than someone that keeps fucking up because of his own baggage. i can’t promise i won’t hurt her again, and i don’t want to risk that.”

this was so thoughtful of mingi and it showed his friend that he really was trying his best, that he really did care about you, and that he’d even put his own happiness back if it would make you happier. and because he cared so much yunho couldn’t do it, wouldn’t even consider it; maybe if mingi had ignored your feelings and his concerns and just thrown himself in head first yunho wouldn’t have had these hesitations, but because the slightly shorter man cared so much he couldn’t do that. and he told mingi that.

“she doesn’t even like me that way. trust me, she doesn’t”, when mingi was about to protest, “she cares about you. she just wants you to care about her, too. why else would she still give you a chance, hm? if she didn’t care you’d long be blocked, because, in all honesty, you’d deserve it.”

“i guess”, another loud sigh. “but i won’t tell her, not yet, at least. i don’t want to hurt her”, laying down on his stomach on the (too short) couch, almost slamming his head into a pillow in frustration because he had absolutely zero idea what to do. because he wanted to be with you but didn’t know how to go about that. because life kept making things hard for you when they’d just gotten even a little easier.

“maybe you should still text her, though. she worries.”

“mh. i think i’ll go home, i need some time to think. see you, yunho. and thank you.”

and then he left, went home and showered and realised he didn’t want you to worry at all even if he still felt unsure about things, so he texted you, asking to meet up again now to show things were still okay.

//

mingi looked like he’d cried and tried to hide it when he arrived, hair slightly wet from a shower you assumed he’d taken before he got there, eyes no longer red but still slightly puffy. you had no idea what had happened, but all you could imagine was that he felt guilty because he’d told you he liked you even when it hadn’t been that long since his love had died, something you could understand. or maybe he was overwhelmed with his emotions, something you could most definitely understand, as well. still, he tried to smile at you, coming over to where you were feeding the bunnies once he’d spotted you.

“hey”, obviously still not doing all too well, something you weren’t about to question him about, especially when he was trying to smile at you anyway.

“hey”, smiling back at him, moving your attention back to the bunnies soon after so he wouldn't feel like you were staring.

“again, sorry for acting weird, i was just… feeling weird”, an awkward laugh at his lack of eloquence, but you didn’t mind at all.

“don’t worry about it.”

you knew telling someone not to worry didn’t exactly make them worry less, but it was all you could do right now, telling him that it wasn’t a big deal and trying to act as you always did around him. or, always since you started talking again.

you’d spent about an hour with mingi and he had finally relaxed when your phone buzzed with messages from yunho, several at once, something that worried you a little because the brunette was here with you right now, so you didn’t at all know what yunho could possibly be double texting about. after checking that you had the time to read and reply right now, that there were no animals running around, you unlocked your phone, clicking on the notification in order to find out what was going on.

you hadn’t expected the messages you got, though. when you read them it quickly became very obvious that yunho had no idea that mingi was with you right now, and it seemed pretty obvious that mingi had no idea about what his friend was revealing, either.

[yunho]: i know mingi hasnt told you, but your soulmate mark is gone

[yunho]: dont freak out, its fine, he isnt planning anything

[yunho]: thats why im texting, actually

[yunho]: he told me to get with you, told me that he knows i like you and that you might like me and that even if it means hes not w you at least youre happy

[yunho]: i think hes really changed from when he fucked up, hes learned, and he wants you to be happy more than anything

[yunho]: so while i do like you, i think hes good for you. i think hed make you happy. i know you still like him, and he obviously likes you, enough to try to set you up w me

[yunho]: just thought id let you know

you looked at the phone in shock, unsure what to make of this, unsure what to make of not one but two confessions in the same message, unsure what to make of all the information you’d just gotten, and you almost dropped the little device, completely out of it.

“y/n?”

the man that apparently was really, actually your soulmate seemed worried by your reaction to the messages, and when you showed him the screen he understood what had happened. he didn’t know what to say either, though, but he knew you’d have to tell yunho something, at least, shouldn’t leave him on read.

“please message him back, okay? or i can do it. and then we’ll talk, but he’ll worry if you don’t say anything.”

you nodded, still only half there, and typed up a small message.

[y/n]: mingi is here rn. well talk about it now. thank you

then you locked your phone, staring at the now black screen, completely in shock. you hadn’t even thought about it. you hadn’t even thought about the whole soulmate thing when mingi had held you, or when he’d kissed your head. all you’d thought about was how you wished someone would care about you, really, deeply care, and now you’d gotten that in one of the worst ways you could imagine, because your best friend whom you’d not see as more than a best friend had apparently confessed just like this, and the man you did like seemed to want to set you up with said best friend because he cared about you so much. everything seemed to be going wrong and you had no idea what to do and you felt yourself slowly slip away, something you’d noticed you did when you were stressed, leaving reality so you would first have to deal with things when they’d settled in logically, removing the stress of having to deal with them logically and emotionally simultaneously.

“y/n?”, mingi asked again, looking at you with worry apparent in his eyes but that you missed anyway because you were staring into nothing.

“i’ll bring you home, okay?”, he told you when you didn’t react, and then: “can you tell me your address again? or i’ll take you to my place if you can’t.”

you couldn’t, so he brought you to his place as he’d said, trying carefully to prevent you from getting hurt on the way because it still seemed like you weren’t fully present. he had his arm around your waist the entire time, guiding you, and then you entered that place again, the place that had been your home and refuge for a few weeks and that now looked so different but still the same. it looked… inhabited, maybe, and you tried to focus on all the small details that had changed as he took off his jacket and shoes and you mechanically did the same. then he led you to his room, their room, carefully sitting you down on the bed to figure out what would be best to do right now, whether he should talk or wait until you were more present. he decided to wait, you could tell from how he was looking at you, wait for your next action or reaction.

your next action was looking around; this was the first time you’d ever seen his bedroom, and you’d immediately noticed the picture on the bedside table when mingi had sat you down on his bed, focusing on him and her, taking in all the details to bring you back to reality at least somewhat.

“she’s pretty”, you said once you were kind of there again, and “she was” the man replied, looking at the picture with a mixture of fondness and pain on his face. it kind of hurt, knowing you’d never be as pretty, feeling guilty for worrying about having to compete with a dead person, but she looked ethereal, she looked at mingi with such happiness and he looked at her with an expression you knew he’d never have on his face when looking at you. you were nothing compared to her, you were a mess, you were ugly with your piercings and your hair and your messy, weak body that was still dealing with the effects of apparently having been bed-bound for ages, even if you couldn’t remember, and you didn’t fit with him. you didn’t fit with anyone like him.

“i want to sleep”, even though it was maybe five or six in the afternoon, but you didn’t want to have to deal with your emotions right now and sleeping helped. maybe you were his soulmate, but you were a second choice, not just for him but for fate, too, you weren’t enough and you’d never be the one he wanted. and if you didn’t sleep soon you’d be sobbing in his arms again, something you most definitely didn’t want.

“i want to shower”, you then changed your mind, wanting to cry and knowing that if you stayed quiet you could do so in the shower and he’d never know.

he just nodded, getting out a towel for you and some of his clothes - neither you nor he would want you to wear her clothes -, then brought you to the bathroom, asking you to please not lock because he was still somewhat worried. that was fine with you because you didn’t expect him to come in, anyway, because what was there to see? you weren’t pretty, you weren’t attractive, you weren’t hot. you were a stick and you were a mess and you looked sickly even though you were starting to build up muscle, and nothing of that would ever be something he’d want to see naked. so you closed the door and undressed, the light turned off as soon as mingi was gone, unable to stand looking at yourself naked, too. you hadn’t even known that you had these insecurities until you saw how beautiful she was and how horrendous you looked in comparison, and the first sob escaped your lips as soon as the water was turned on enough to swallow it.

//

you’d been in the shower for thirty minutes now, and at this point he worried. you’d reacted when he knocked at the twenty minutes mark, so he knew you were still alive, but you hadn’t been doing well when you went in, and when he knocked again and he just heard you whimper he went in.

as soon as he opened the door he was greeted by hot steam coming out, and he could barely see because it was so steamy in there, the air hot and humid. it cleared a little now fresh, colder air was coming in, and he made his way to the shower after turning on the light - why was it turned off in the first place? -, pulling back the curtain because he heard you sob and because the water had to be really hot for the room to be in this state and he worried, he did.

and there you were, skin bright red, the water burning you and you just sitting on the floor and crying.

“y/n”, he almost yelled, shocked and scared, and turned off the water, getting slightly burnt on the tap and from the few drops falling onto his skin even as he tried to avoid the water. then he kneeled down, pulling you to his arms carefully because he didn’t want to hurt you but he worried so much about your sorry state, and you just kept sobbing.

“why’d you do that, why’d you do that, why’s the water so hot”, he repeated, completely overwhelmed, you still sobbing in his arms, but trying to answer.

“i just wanted to feel something”, you told him, “it was so hot but i still didn’t feel anything. it’s not hot enough”, arm moving to turn the water back on, but he stopped you.

“no, no, we won’t do that, we won’t do that, angel”, stroking your head and his heart hurting at how red your skin was. he could only hope you didn’t actually get any burns.

“i want to feel something”, you repeated, and mingi was so overwhelmed, he didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to help.

“can i turn on the water, but cold? maybe that’ll help, maybe it will, but i can’t let you burn yourself.”

he was pleading, hoping you wouldn’t hurt yourself any more, hoping you’d let him take care of you, and when you nodded he felt relieved, making sure the water was at an acceptable temperature before turning it on, gently washing you with the cold water, hoping to prevent it from getting too bad, rubbing your naked body but not caring about the fact that you were naked, caring only about taking care of you even when his clothes were getting soaked.

“is this okay? how does it feel?”, gently rubbing your scalp with the cold water, then your neck and your back and your sides, carefully, trying not to hurt you any more than you’d inevitably be when your senses registered your surroundings again.

“it hurts”, and it seemed like you were starting to come back, the sobs getting more violent again now that you were able to feel your skin be so tight and aching and red from your stupid attempt at feeling something.

“i’m almost done, let me just make sure everything is a little soothed, let me take care of you, i’m almost done”, he tried to calm you down as he rubbed your legs with the cold water again, finally turning the water off and getting up, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you before he told you to turn around, stripping himself of his wet clothes quickly, drying himself just enough to not soak his new clothes as he put on the pants he’d picked out for you before he told you that he’d put his shirt on you now, asking you to lift your arms if you could so he could do that.

you looked so small and hurt in his massive clothes, you made him want to protect you, and at least for the night he would.

“do you want to go to bed? let’s go to bed, angel”, he told you like he was talking to a child, but it kind of felt like he was. he could tell moving hurt and it made his heart hurt all the more, wanting nothing more than to take at least some of your pain, just enough for you to not be crying out like this because you didn’t want to do anything anymore.

laying down hurt, too, he could tell from how you flinched, and he tried very carefully to not make the bed move too much as he laid down next to you. you were laying on his side, he was laying on what used to be hers, and for a moment he felt a pang in his chest, but now his focus was on you, on trying to make sure that you’d be okay.

“it’s time to sleep. i’m here and if it gets too bad, wake me up. i promise i’ll be here.”

if being alive hadn’t hurt so much you would’ve thanked him, but now you just closed your eyes, and mingi watched your form almost vanish underneath the blankets he’d put on you, hoping that the next morning you’d be okay.

//

you woke up around one am, as the little clock on the night table told you, with your body hurting and your heart hurting even more. you wanted to be held, to be protected, you wanted to be taken care of.

“mingi”, you whimpered, hoping he’d wake up, “mingi, mingi.”

he shuffled, though you couldn’t tell if he was awake or not, so you continued whimpering, until you felt him sit up, and shortly after you heard his panicked voice.

“what’s wrong? what’s wrong, what’s wrong, are you okay?”

he sounded so scared that you felt bad, whimpering even more because everything was horrible and everything hurt.

“y/n, are you okay? do we need to go to the hospital?”, and although you couldn’t see him he was scanning your body - or, as much of it as he could see - for burns or any other clear signs of you needing immediate medical attention.

“no, i just… hug me, please”, you pleaded, him immediately complying even though he hadn’t expected this to be what you needed right now, especially not when you flinched in his embrace, but when he loosened his embrace and was about to move back you grabbed his hand, whimpering again, not wanting him to let go even if it hurt.

“is it okay? i don’t want to hurt you”, he told you with a soft voice, but he moved back closer towards you, trying hard to not move you as he came to lay as close as possible to you, one arm around you and the other above his head so that that one wouldn’t hurt you.

“don’t go”, you cried, his hold around you tightening slightly in reaction.

“i won’t go. i’ll take care of you, angel, i’ll take care of you”, he repeated against you, over and over, and you fell asleep to his promise.

[deathbled]

@solaoccasum​​    |     castlevania     |     sypha & talon ❛   recently i’ve come to know the value & beauty of things that live longer than i do.  ❜

a sword straight through his chest would have  hurt  less than the implication behind her words .         bonded tended to live longer ,        a good majority of the ones with  lesser deities than the one he is shackled to by a contract he has imposed upon the immortal himself have lived for centuries .     of course sypha belnades ,     a genius in her own right ,       would have known .       she could have outsmarted any of the  scholars he has encountered in the past ;        bloody hell ,    of course she’d know ! and it hurts ,      pushes  him  to  the  brink  of something dark and terrifying to even  consider the option of outliving her .      sypha knows him better than anyone ,   than himself .      she’d also have to consider the fact he would stubbornly refuse to even accept any such situation ,     would have to acknowledge that he was the very man who would rather burn the world to the ground before he accepted leaving her side . that he would rather bring the downfall of all he vowed to protect if it meant being by her side until the very end .      but her smile is too melancholic for his liking and he realises she knows him ,      better than he knows himself .      she could ask him to  not do any such reckless thing ,     to keep going and to protect everything she held dear about this rotten world .     and he would do it .      the harbinger was who he was bound to ,     but unlike sypha he would never own any part of talons soul even if he wanted to .         the mage ,     on the other hand ,      did not even need to try ,    she simply had to direct a single word at him and he would do whatever she asked .

centuries of life were something many a mortal dreamt of at night ,       ignoring the folly of their ideals as they sought a way to make it a reality .      for a bonded who’d found someone to care for it  meant  the  erosion  of  a  mind  and fate set in stone .  insanity ,      plain and simple ,       was not uncommon amongst those who outlived the people they loved .     the true danger of being a bonded was not becoming the vessel of the responding deity ,     because after losing everything that made one a person ,      losing all sense of self and becoming the numbed shadow of a deity in itself seemed like a relief from the burden of a mortal heart .      the true danger lay in finding love .      in caring for someone so much that losing yourself seemed like a small price to pay for their safety .      and then having time rip it all from them in a cruel and twisted display of the price for power .      in the end ,    power was but ceaselessly eating away at the people who sought it .    he forces a relatively calm expression on his features in the face  of  any  such  thoughts running through his mind like a wanderer seeking shelter from the desert sun ,    yet the small noise of surprise he barely muffles behind his hand in a faux yawn gives away how he truly feels about her words .    the side glance he shoots her way before having to look  away to even bear the situation is one of raw surprise and desperation .       things  he had hoped to leave behind ;      emotions he never wanted to experience again .

if it meant losing every sense of self and the entirety of made him talon just to see sypha live and breathe for another day he would ,     they both knew that .       and perhaps that is what makes her say such things in the first place ;       the certainty that in the end even if he gave it his all  some small part of him would perhaps still outlive her ,      even if it wasn’t conscious .       the very notion of that was enough  to make him feel as though he was burnt alive ,     to set ablaze his very being into a never - ending inferno of painful sensations until he crumbled to pieces right here and now .      if push came to shove and he had to face the untimely end of the time they could spend together in this beloved hellscape called earth then he would find a way to fight against such a fate ,       even if it meant fighting against every single deity of this world on his own .     the fact talon was known to stubbornly refuse fate at every turn was the smallest of reliefs for him in the end .     and still he trembles .

it takes a moment to find composure ,    one second turning into two ,   then a dozen and then a minute .         it takes three steps before he falls to his knees ,        hands desperately holding onto hers as though his life depended on it .     the warmth of her hands in his seeped through those long ,     cold digits of his and into his very core as if her existence  alone  was  the  solution to the burning cold in the cavity of his chest . his forehead comes to rest ‘gainst  both of their hands and for a moment he feels the unfamiliar sensation of tears burning on the corner of his eyes until they ,    too ,    all but disappear back into the depths of everything he has held in for so long .      none  of his sorrows mattered ,         not when he had to frantically find the words to ensure  she knew he would never let their story end in a tragedy .         he would never allow  one of them to mourn the other and  if  it  meant  he had to take on fate itself then he  would damn well do so with that fiery  determination  that seemed to awaken only if it came to ensuring syphas safety .   powerful and strong as she was ,   this was a fight he would never allow her into .     it was ,    in the end ,     his grievance with all of the things he was supposed to cherish that made this a battle .     and sypha deserved to rest ,     to settle down and enjoy a calm life away from all the hardships the world had continuously thrown at her as if to test her willpower .    and whatever it took to ensure she got the kind of life she deserved ,       he would give it to whomever he had to pay  for that .         his voice cracks like the walls she has broken down so long ago ,     the ones he can barely remember putting up whenever he is able to surrender to emotion and speak freely .            there is a forlorn sorrow in his voice that he can’t quite place  when he speaks ,      and yet his eyes still burn with love and dedication he had never thought possible .     ❛   i love you .    and i need you to know that the moment you take your last breath will be the moment i ,    too ,    will perish from this world .  ❜

there is a silent plea dancing somewhere within his gaze ,      heavy with the burden of his heart and the weight it has on him .    it begs for her to not think of such things ,   to remember that whatever it took to stop such things from happening he would give ,   it pleaded with her to remember  that  she was so much stronger than anything that had  put itself between them and that she ,      should she ever want to ,     could extend her life a little longer .     he is so helplessly ,    desperately ,    tragically in love and he can not find a single way to express it to her  other than with the raw depth of his emotions  on display for her and her only .        he eyes land on the ring ,        the one she keeps  around her neck on a necklace and he remembers something ,     vaguely painful and  horrifying .         he has taken power far beyond his own reckoning to ensure he never  had to lose anyone ever again ,        and  yet  he feels helpless in moments like these . there is a quiet voice beckoning from somewhere deep within the dark parts of his mind almost luring him further into the very things he has avoided for so long .     it is scary ,  how love can easily bend and break a mind if it had to .     perhaps love ,    too ,    was too light a word to truly describe how he felt .     sypha belnades had taken a part of his soul he had thought dead and gone and she had ignited it with a fire that lit up the rest of his being .      she wasn’t the wonder cure to all of his problems ,      but she was the reason he even strove for improvement .     so all he can do is stand up on shaky legs and pull her into a hug ,     one so desperate it ought to be a little too strong .         and yet with the intensity of the entire situation weighing down at his heart he can lighten it only a little bit before quietly asking if it was okay for him to hold her just a little longer .

[the-gay-prometheus]

🍄🍂🌻🌿 for the main three of your AU + Ernest

What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?

>Victor: Oat cakes? Oat cakes. ...Oat cakes. Yes I am 100% leaning heavily into the Victor Loves Oat Cakes thing. Because I also love oat cakes. He can't cook to save his life though. This poor man couldn't even make toast without it ending up either raw or literally turned to charcoal. All of which is highly ironic because he actually had cooking lessons due to ~circumstances of his birth~ - he just never paid any attention.

>Henry: Henry's favorite snack is literally any kind of bread. If Henry gives you his bread, that must mean he really likes you, because Henry would never give his bread away to just anyone. (<casually thinking back to the 'home again' segment where Henry smuggles like half his bread to take back to Victor> heh. gay.) Anyways- As for go to comfort food, rabbit stew - because when he, Victor, Ernest, and Elizabeth were all allowed to spend a weekend essentially camping in the woods, the first meal he cooked on that outing was an improvised rabbit stew. It didn't turn out well the first time, but the memories surrounding it are what made it special - so now even though he's really perfected his recipe and techniques and what he makes is practically unrecognizable to that first attempt, he can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy with the thought of spending the night goofing off with all his best friends. As for if he enjoys cooking, he loves it! It's one of his favorite things to do! He loves the creativity and freedom he finds in cooking for himself, and especially loves seeing others enjoying what he makes.

>Creature/Agape: For most of the AU he would say any sort of wild nuts and berries are his favorite snack because, well, they're just about the only snack he's ever really had access to. Later on he'll agree with Henry that bread is The Best, but is made even better when accompanied with a good goat cheese - so that easily becomes his favorite snack. As for comfort food, really just... Anything anybody cooks for him - the mere gesture of somebody making him food is enough to make him feel so incredibly loved, so it doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's being made with care. When it comes to cooking, he definitely enjoys it! He's not quite on Henry's level, but Henry is a great teacher and he cherishes every moment he gets to spend helping to prepare meals with him.

>Ernest: Favorite snack is... Any kind of sweet he can get his hands on. Bonus points for cakes and cookies. As for comfort food, he doesn't really have a comfort *food* but his comfort drink is hot cocoa, mostly because it's delicious but also because he has fond memories of sneaking into the kitchen with Victor late at night and making hot cocoa - because everyone knows the best thing to accompany Victor's "world famous" ghost stories was hot cocoa! As for cooking.. Ernest doesn't cook. He's convinced he's no good at it despite really never having tried. This is much to his detriment because when everyone else is gone and all the servants have been laid off, Elizabeth is the only one left to cook - and Elizabeth's cooking is.... Edible, at best.

Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with recieving affection from others?

>Victor: ...Sort of enjoys hugs. Victor is a little iffy about touch being initiated by anyone other than Henry. He prefers to show affection to others by way of compliments (or by clearly-sarcastic insults if it's someone he really trusts), and prefers to have affection shown to him the same way. There are only some exceptions to this rule, all of which include him either initiating physical contact himself or by explicitly stating that it's ok to touch him.

>Henry: Oh Henry loves hugs 🥺 Henry loves giving everyone hugs. You get a hug! You get a hug! Everybody gets a hug!!! Victor is his favorite hugging target obviously. Despite being a generally sharp and pointy object, Victor is surprisingly very huggable - this is probably because he just absolutely melts in Henry's arms. Henry gives hugs to show just about anyone affection tho, and loves getting hugs in return.

>Creature/Agape: How do you say "absolutely fucking touch starved on main" in french? Because yeah. Yeah. That's him. If you hug him he will cry. If you let him hug you he will cry. If you so much as rest your hand on him he will cry. And by cry in every case I mean a mixture of emotions ranging from joyful at the thought the somebody really cares and that they’re not afraid of him/don’t hate him - to mourning the fact that such acts of affection are seen as a rarity and something he’s not worthy of. As for showing or receiving affection, his best ways of showing it are either by giving gifts or by mimicking a person's behavior, or by just telling them he really appreciates them. And as for receiving affection, he'll take all the platonic/familial affection he can possibly get. It doesn't matter what kind.

>Ernest: Eh. Hugs are alright. They've gotta be gentle tho because Joints Hurty. Generally he shows affection to others by offering to do things for them or trying to help them with tasks, and as for his preferred way of receiving affection? Simple. Tell him not to help you. Let him have a fucking break for once in his life and he'll be absolutely thrilled. Either that or just tell him you can see he's really doing his best.

What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

>Victor: <gestures vaguely at Henry> This guy. This guy right here. Everything about this guy. Literally everything. I would go on but that would make this post way longer than it already is. So just. Everything. Also mountains, forests, grass in early spring, waterfalls, any body of water really - all of those things make him happy too. Also bones and shiny rocks. Oh. And moss and lichen. And moths. And stars!

>Henry: <gestures vaguely at Victor> I mean seriously loving each other is like 90% of these guys' personality. (that's not true but still lmao) Anyways other than Victor, he also is made happy by just about anything in nature, as well as just... Life itself. He thinks life is a wonderful gift and he's just glad to be living it.

>Creature/Agape: <gestures vaguely at literally everything all the time every day> Agape is a simple lad. He sees nature, he sees people that care about him, and he is filled with so much goddamn serotonin. Or at least he would be if he wasn't also filled with so much anxiety and trauma. The only thing that doesn't make him happy is people he doesn't know. People absolutely terrify him.

>Ernest: Ernest tries to see the best in everyone around him, so any time he does that he can't help but smile and feel a little more hopeful. Other than that, he's thankful for having such a beautiful home and, despite all the tragedy and all the responsibility that was placed on him because of it, he does enjoy the freedom of just... Being able to live as he pleases for the most part. Tending to the gardens outside makes him happy, finding new litters of rabbits emerging from their warrens makes him happy, baby goats make him happy, goats in general make him happy (humble goat farmer Ernest simply loves to vibe in the field with his goats), sharp pointy objects make him happy - so many things make him happy. So then why is he so sad all the time?

What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

>Victor: Despite generally not being a very touchy person, his best way to show that he cares without speaking is through touch. Either by taking that person's hand, resting a hand on their shoulder or back, giving them a hug, just... Anything to let them know he's there for them. As for how someone can show him they care? If it's Henry, literally anything will do. Hugs, hand holding, snuggling, gentle little kisses on the cheek or forehead or lips too. If it's anyone else, the best thing they can do is just... Sit with him. Just be there beside him. They don't have to say anything, just exist in his general space and that would be enough. He'll let them know if/when he needs any more reassurance than that.

>Henry: Did I mention Henry loves hugs? Hugs are the go to method for showing somebody he cares. He also loves receiving hugs as signals that somebody else cares. The H in Henry stands for Hugs.

>Creature/Agape: Well ideally he would show he cares by being attentive to their needs - so like, say, if it's Henry he'll give him a hug, if it's Victor he'll just sit with him for a bit (as long as Victor is ok with that). But unfortunately usually he feels like the best way he can show he cares without words is... by disappearing. He still thinks of his presences as being unnerving or a nuisance, so he often feels the best way he can let somebody know he cares is just by... leaving them entirely alone. As for how other show him they care, very few do, but those who do know the best way is through some kind of physical contact.

>Ernest: Growing up with a variety of different kinds of personalities meant that Ernest came to realize very quickly that there is no 'one size fits all' for how to show others he cares. So if it has to be done without speaking, then he'll simply try to find something to write on and try to ask through writing what the person needs. Either that, or sometimes he'll pull out his guitar and play them something to help get their mind off of whatever it is they're worrying about. As for others showing him they care, just leave him be, usually. Either that or write him a note just saying 'im here if you need to talk.'

[gerec]

It’s Been A Long Time

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Read on Ao3

The last chapter of my ‘Call Me By Your Name’ au! Thanks to everyone who read along and shared their thoughts with me...I hope you like the ending!

-----

One Year Later

It’s been a long time since Charles’ last visit.

The house was much the same as it had always been, doors creaky and windowsills warped from the heat and humidity of the Italian summer. The grounds too had not seen any change since he was a boy, the orchard lush and green and obviously loved, his parents still spending enough time here to ensure that the property was lived in and well maintained.

In the years since he left for Oxford Charles had visited less than a handful of times, though Raven still spent part of the summer here every year, and brought her husband and son along now to enjoy the town’s rustic charms. Without fail she would ask Charles to join them on holiday, so the entire family could reunite and revisit those idyllic days, and he would pretend to consider it, to promise to fit it into the crazy schedule that he maintained. And inevitably something important would come up and take Charles to another part of the world, allowing him to keep his distance and the memories at bay - of one perfect summer and a love that should have long been forgotten.

It got easier as time passed and his life took him further and further away; he could even look back and see it for what it was - joy made all the more precious for having been found and then lost. It was something that could be cherished and missed, he told himself, but never truly remade.

But then he’d made that mistake more than a year ago, seeking him out in a vain effort to recapture the magic they once shared, wanting – closure? A second chance? He still had no idea what he’d hoped to accomplish from his visit. And Erik...

There had been others in Charles' life, since he fell in love with Erik Lehnsherr; longer, deeper, more meaningful relationships with both men and women in these past sixteen years. He had known their hearts, and their dreams, and lived for months and sometimes years by their side. Why then did Erik still matter to him, beyond being his first love? And did Charles simply want him so much because the man was married with a family and well beyond his reach?

Whatever the answer was it didn't reflect well on Charles and the man he'd become, unwilling - or unable - to give himself fully to another, and capable of sleeping with a married man without any regret or shame.

He thought of Erik's words to him that night, and how it had ripped his chest wide, to hear what had never been spoken between them in the halcyon days of that beautiful summer. 'I loved you,' he'd said, as though it was obvious, and Charles should have known, like it didn't matter because it had always been and would always be, for the rest of his life. It was impossible not to give in to temptation after that, and take what Erik so plainly and whole-heartedly offered…

At least he had the decency to let the man go afterwards, without tears or recrimination, free to forget their night together and return to his happy life. It was the least he could do for Erik and for himself; somehow it was easier to let him go when Charles had confirmation of his feelings, and that Erik had loved him, and had never forgotten him.

It taught him too that he couldn’t marry anyone else, not until he’d truly mourned what he had with Erik and find a way to put it all behind him.

Being here, where it all happened…

It was a good place to start.  

He eventually found his way to his father’s study, and settled by the open window, taking in the familiar view of the gravel path that led from the road to the front of their property. The scenery was definitely better from the bedrooms, as they overlooked the back garden, or over the treetops for a glimpse of the sea. Yet he returned to this spot time and again over the course of the week, without ever making a conscious choice, as though a part of him needed to be here, watching, waiting for someone he knew wasn’t coming.

Then one morning, as he sipped his coffee in one of the chipped earthen mugs he saw it; a car winding its way up the path, pulling to a stop beside the house just below where Charles stood. It was not a car he recognized, that might have belonged to a neighbor, or one of their caretakers, and his heart throbbed painfully in his chest at the thought of who it might be.

He sucked in a breath when the driver’s door swung open, the mug almost slipping from his fingers when a familiar silhouette stepped into view.

Erik.

In Charles’ mind he looked the same as he did all those years ago, the first time he laid eyes on the grad student who had come to spend the summer at his mother’s invitation. He felt it then as he did now, the electric thrill and burgeoning excitement that made his breath quicken and his heart race; the curious pull towards a handsome stranger that held himself with such confidence and grace.  

He sprinted down the narrow staircase, startling Erik when he yanked open the front door and stepped out to greet him.

“Hello, Charles.”

“What are you doing here?”  

Erik smiled, looking more relaxed than Charles had ever seen him, his whole face lighting up with tenderness and unadulterated joy. He tried to think of another time when Erik had looked like this and found none. Where were the reservations he carried from that first summer together? Or the guilt and longing when they saw each other last?

“I came to see you.”

“Why?”

The smile faded a little, as Erik took in the guarded expression on Charles’ face, and the way his arms were crossed over his chest, so he wouldn’t be tempted to run over and wrap himself around Erik and never let go.

“I spoke to your mother, and she told me you were here at the house. She said you were here alone, and didn’t mention anything about an engagement, or that you’d gotten married—”

“So you thought you’d come here and what?” Charles snapped, “Did you think I’d just fall into your arms and have sex with you again, and then send you home to your wife? I’m not interested in being your dirty little secret—”

“No, Charles.” Erik sighed, slowly edging closer until he could reach to take his hand. “That’s not why I’m here. I just—” he stopped abruptly, frustration coloring his face, trying to find the right words it seemed to explain his sudden reappearance in Charles’ life. “My divorce was finalized a while ago—”

“Divorce?” Charles deflated, swallowing the bile in his throat. “Was it…did your wife find out about us? God, Erik I’m so sorry; that’s not what I wanted for you.”

“No it wasn’t because of that,” Erik said, before he quickly added, “no that’s not quite true is it? But what happened made me realize I’ve been living a lie. That all these years I’ve been in love with you and not Magda. I mean, I love her, very much and she’ll always be my family, but that’s not enough. Not for her and not for me.”

“But the children—”

“Are my children, regardless of the divorce,” Erik said, “and we’ve talked to them together, to help them understand. The twins are fifteen now, Charles…almost as old as you were when I met you. They’re smart and they love us both and we’ll get through this as a family.”

He was glad that Erik seemed so optimistic; that the children wouldn’t resent his choice to leave their mother for some stranger they’d never met, though Charles didn’t believe it would be quite that easy.

Shaking his head, Charles answered, “This isn’t what I wanted, Erik, for you to leave your family for me.”

Erik shrugged. “I didn’t, at least not the way you’re thinking. You said you were getting married, and if that was the case I had no intention of getting in the way. If you’d moved on, and put us behind you, I would have understood it completely. I had no idea that you weren’t married until I called your mother a few days ago, and I only did that because I wanted to come here, and see this place again, and remember.”

He knew he was staring, mouth gaping in shock at the revelations of everything that had happened in Erik’s life – the choices he’s made, without knowing Charles' circumstances and whether he would even get another chance. His heart ached for him, even as longing and hope surged through his mind in a dangerous and heady mix. “I don’t want you to regret this. Giving up your perfect family life for something we’ve never really talked about. Something that might not work out.”

“There are no guarantees in life, I know,” Erik said, his gaze intent as he reached to brush a stray hair from Charles’ forehead. “But the only regret I’ve ever had was not giving this – giving us – a real chance. So I’m asking you now. Give us a chance. Please.”

Still Charles hesitated, unable to believe that any of this was real and actually happening, as he’d wanted it all those years ago. “And if I asked you to wait? Until I was ready?”

“Then I’d wait,” Erik replied, and this time he moved to cup Charles’ face tenderly between the palm of his hands. “For as long as you need. Forever, if that’s what it takes.”

“Forever is a long time,” Charles murmured, and leaned in to kiss him.

[drcsmdws-blog]

have you been re-introduced to DORCAS MEADOWES? last we heard, the PUREBLOOD was most familiar with TIMELINE ONE. I don’t recall if they were always a RAVENCLAW, but I’ve heard the SEVENTH YEAR. is still LOYAL, STRATEGIC, OBSERVANT and INDECISIVE, OVERTHINKING, RETICENT, so that’s familiar. at least SHE remembers her way around the castle.

PINTEREST. | PLAYLIST.

CHARACTER INSPO:  Astrid Leong ( Crazy Rich Asians ), Veronica Lodge ( Riverdale - i’m so sorry ), Rory Gilmore ( Gilmore Girls ), Peyton Charles ( iZombie ), Prue Halliwell( Charmed ), Celeste Wright ( Big Little Lies ),Carla Rosón ( Elite )

character history ( mentions of suicide, death, ocd, alcoholism )

HISTORY:

MEMORY ONE: THE FIRST WIN AGAINST BELARUS MEADOWES.

“Dad, why is my name Dorcas?”

          “Why is the sky blue?”

The two had a chess date every Saturday afternoon that carried into her Hogwarts years. He’d make the trip to the castle just to spend some quality time and when Dorcas was old enough to go on Hogsmeade trips, they’d find their spot in Madame Puddifoots amidst the couples and giggling girls in the shop. Belarus loved being surrounded by so many happy and smitten people, Dorcas could see how he thrived, how he practically fed off of it like he was in deficit of it  – of love. If Dorcas was being honest with herself ( which, she rarely was)she knew that things with her parents weren’t right, she knew her father and her mother didn’t really love each other the way they should’ve, the way the couples around them did, but she didn’t concern herself with that then.

         She was playing to win and this chess game she might’ve had a chance.

Belarus gave a knowing smile, he knew his daughter well, he knew she was really really trying this time, but he was not going to give her the win. No matter how much she tried to distract him with nonsensical questions.

“It’s because it fits you,” he started, while Dorcas shot him look that said how could you think the name Dorcas fits anyone. “I’m serious, I knew you’d be a dork the minute you came out of your mother’s womb.”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

     “I like to think I’m clever, yes.”

“You’re not quick, though,” Dorcas announced triumphantly as the final move was made, a checkmate about to be declared. A semi-stunned Belarus leaned back in his chair and admired his daughter’s resourcefulness, her quick wit, he didn’t know if in that moment she’d have made a better Slytherin than Ravenclaw, but he thought she could’ve been a brilliant one. An argument could’ve been made that Dorcas, in another life, would’ve been a Slytherin, maybe if she’d grown up differently, maybe if she had to rely more on self-preservation than she did at cleverly hiding things away she didn’t want the world to know. If she had a quick wit that stung because hers soared, it carried her above the masses, it made her a formidable chess rival because she was able to see more from the towers than the dungeons. From Afar. Observant for the sake of learning, not just for survival.

Maybe she’d learned from the best, watching her father all these years, an imitation act that became an identity.

“Checkmate,” Dorcas smiled, bouncing in her seat, a bright smile on her face. In that moment, she could’ve screamed with joy, but it wasn’t the victory that was the most important to her – it was finally giving her father a worthy opponent. It wasn’t just student surpassing teacher, it was finally a meeting of EQUALS. Belarus would always complain to Dorcas about how dull the people at the pureblood societal events they went to were, the older she got the more he felt comfortable complaining and being so open, but he was never open enough. Even though he was her father, Dorcas knew he needed a friend, she hoped she could be as much as a friend to him as he was to her.

Dorcas had a ready mind, she could tell that her father was not happy, that he was pretending more often than not, it was something they had in common. At least they could brave this world. Together.

MEMORY TWO: THE FUNERAL OF BELARUS MEADOWES.

No one gave any speeches. No one remembered Belarus like Dorcas did. Her father, her monument, her soul – no one gave a shit, not a real one, besides Dorcas. No one wanted to give more attention to the shameful tragedy that was Belarus ending his life, they all thought him weak, unmanly, pathetic. Some say that death sweetens the memory but for Belarus, for everyone else but Dorcas, it made the memory of his existence and how it ended left a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths. They barely spoke his name. The family who he’d left behind barely able to comprehend what he’d done – Dorcas was no exception. She was the closest to him.  She remembers begging her mother to let her give a eulogy, to do something for her father’s memory, but it was all a cut and dry affair. There could be no tragedy if they didn’t mourn him like one, denial was their friend, her mother would coo into her ear and though Dorcas knew she was right ( denial had been a dear friend over the years ) it didn’t feel like the right thing when it came to her father’s passing.

This struck Dorcas Meadowes as she was often NOT concerned on whether or not she was doing the right thing.

Every year she leaves a charmed Peace Lily that lasts an entire month without any additional care ( because who else besides Dorcas would visit him? ), every year there’s a period of time where Dorcas just shuts herself in her bathtub and reads. Not the Prophet, which once held Belarus’ obituary and a small section reserved for the Meadowes family and their contribution to society, but the books she used to read with her father that she doesn’t touch any other days of the year. Dorcas, who has always had various preparations for anything she did now lived by the little rituals to help her get through the monotony of her life without her father. The extensive skin care routine. The bi-weekly hair masks made by her own hands, diligently crafted in her cauldron. The way she redid and color coded the notes she had for all her classes every Saturday afternoon at the end of the week. Making her bed, the corners perfectly in place, every morning. Rituals which help her maintain some semblance of balance without him around, to help her cope, that have become staples in her life that help her gather up the endurance to continue being her.

She goes on that way, the Dorcas Meadowes shown to the world is clever and knows what to say, know how to say the right things and when, is kind and is your friend, but not your best friend. She’s popular and known, she’s warm but distant, she’s an enigma to some but really she’s just a girl who knew the art of surviving and knew how to make the best out of a situation that was impossible. That she couldn’t escape from. That she wouldn’t dream to escape from because why should she? The money, the access, the lack of personal fulfillment was easy to mask, she had the privilege to do so much – she could do so much more from within should she ever want to lift a finger to do more than she did. There was nothing morally against her life, it might’ve killed her father, but how could she leave? Her friends who meant the world to her were still by her side, the ones she’d grown up with, her mother may not have loved her but she had a legacy, a birthright, she had a place in society that was too precious to give up and she knew it. Dorcas knew it, even if it killed her too, that her life was textbook-ly too good to leave.

Still, she wondered, why couldn’t her father have stayed? At his funeral she looked at him, his body, one last time before he was put into the ground and could only wonder why?

She always thought she understood him, that she understood how he felt, but had she? Had she ever? Had she really? When she could still stay in this world while he was gone?

MEMORY THREE: THE MOURNING OF BELARUS MEADOWES: BARGAINING.  

Had Dorcas Meadowes ever been loved by her mother? Truly loved? Given a hug not based on merit but because when you love someone so much you just can’t help but to physically cherish them, their existence, to express it in physical touch. Had she ever given her daughter a kiss on the cheek before bed, wishing her sweet dreams, reading bedtime story upon bed time story until her imagination was quelled into a sleep filled with dreams&technicolor fantasies?

( Dorcas doesn’t dream anymore.         If it’s not a dark sleep, it’s a scene.                 It’s a flashback. It’s the coroner’s report.                         Her father’s casket buried into the ground.                                       Bottles of Merlot broken upon marble floors –                                              was his blood that red too when he passed?                         It’s question after question,                        It’s maze after maze. Dorcas doesn’t dream anymore. )

Had her mother ever made her laugh so hard her mascara smudged, had she ever ever spent hours upon hours playing chess with her? Had they read in their library in tandem, sitting in a comfortable silence for hours on end? Had they ever sat on the balcony in their villa at Lake Como and talked about the world, about the stars ( she never listened or cared much about them but when Belarus talked about the stars, about anything, you listened ). Had she ever gone to Paris with her and serenaded her on the tip top of the Eiffel tower? Had her mother spent hours answering every question Dorcas ever had? Had she run through the streets of Rome with her, flown on a broomstick at night around the Colosseum ( What fun would being a wizard be if we can’t break into muggle monuments, my Doe? ). Had she jumped in the turquoise waters of Santorini and spoken extremely horrible Greek with a tired Dorcas carried on her shoulders?

Had she ever helped her when it wasn’t in her best interest to do so? Had she ever let her daughter have the option of being ANYTHING but her own personal Atlas?

( Her mother spent hours lost in booze, lost in anger, in a rage that Dorcas could understand, could feel herself some days but with a Sterling Silver Role Model like her mother she vowed to never ever be like her. Her children would never know their mother blacked out, slurred speech, screaming, her children would only know chess, kindness, laughter, charms&gentleness – this she VOWS. )

Dorcas wishes she could’ve lightened the load he felt, she hopes, she ( dreams ) knows that having just one month with him she could finally understand why he did what he did, why he left her, why she wasn’t enough to tie him to this Earth for even a few years more when theyboth could’ve made their escape? Didn’t he know she’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, didn’t he know he was her world, her stars, her sky, her ocean? If she had told him more, if only she had written him more letters. It kept her up at night, thinking of why she wasn’t enough and what more she could’ve done because when she looked back, she knew there was always so much more she could’ve been & done for him, Dorcas wondered too –  did he know something she didn’t about leaving this society? Was she forever trapped like him, wasdeath the only way out, was that why he did it? Why, why, why, she made herself sick with the why but that wasn’t as important as the gift that having one more month with him would be. Maybe, with their minds combined – she could bring him back. Permanently.

( At least with a month she could let him know she loved him, she’d go to the ends of the world with & for him, that he was so so loved by her, that at least if she could onlyhaveonemonth, if life was to be even crueler than it already had been by giving her so much yet so little time, Dorcas could let her father know he was loved. Some people would be angry, sure, she was angry, but not at him. At everyone else around him. At his wife, her mother, but Merlin, he was loved. That would be enough. )

Lie. She needed so much more.

REACTION:

Dorcas lets herself live in such denial, lets herself push down every doubt she has and any intent on acting on it easily because there is no need to act. But in the other timelines? There was. In one, Voldemort won – she knows deep down she couldn’t have stood idly by and feels a deep sense of agony at the idea of doing so & getting confirmation that she didn’t is both relieving and terrifying. Abandoning the people she grew up with ( because that’s what it is at the end of the day to those in pureblood society, abandonment ) is something she couldn’t see herself doing in her original timeline, but knowing she could should the political climate call for it, that her morals won out, that they always will –  gives her hope. It’s intriguing as well, getting proof that other timelines and alternative universes exist. Fascinating for someone who’s already interested in the great beyond and fantasy worlds she’s read in her books but realizing she was living in a utopia compared to the other timelines is sobering. Seeing the people she cares about in other timelines suffering through other universes while she’s in her ivory tower is guilt-inducing as well. It’s a wake up call, because Dorcas never would’ve described herself as unhappy in her timeline now but seeing other timelines makes her realize things she’s been trying to hide from herself for so long and it’s scary.

[diversionsrpg]

A DIVERGING PATH

   →   have you been re-introduced to DORCAS MEADOWES? last we heard, the PUREBLOOD was most familiar with TIMELINE ONE. I don’t recall if they were always a RAVENCLAW, but I’ve heard the seventh year. is still LOYAL, STRATEGIC, OBSERVANT and INDECISIVE, OVERTHINKING, RETICENT, so that’s familiar. at least SHE remembers their way around the castle.

THEIR LIFE IN FULL

          →   “dad, why is my name dorcas?”                                “why is the sky blue?”           the two had a chess date every saturday afternoon that carried into her hogwarts years. he’d make the trip to the castle just to spend some quality time and when dorcas was old enough to go on hogsmeade trips, they’d find their spot in madame puddifoots amidst the couples and giggling girls in the shop. belarus loved being surrounded by so many happy and smitten people, dorcas could see how he thrived, how he practically fed off of it like he was in deficit of it  – of love. if dorcas was being honest with herself ( which, she rarely was ) she knew that things with her parents weren’t right, she knew her father and her mother didn’t really love each other the way they should’ve, the way the couples around them did, but she didn’t concern herself with that then.                                she was playing to win and this chess game she might’ve had a chance.          belarus gave a knowing smile, he knew his daughter well, he knew she was really really trying this time, but he was not going to give her the win. no matter how much she tried to distract him with nonsensical questions.          “it’s because it fits you,” he started, while dorcas shot him look that said how could you think the name dorcas fits ANYONE. “i’m serious, i knew you’d be a dork the minute you came out of your mother’s womb.”          “you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”                        “i like to think i’m clever, yes.”          “you’re not quick, though,” dorcas announced triumphantly as the final move was made, a checkmate about to be declared. a semi-stunned belarus leaned back in his chair and admired his daughter’s resourcefulness, her quick wit, he didn’t know if in that moment she’d have made a better slytherin than ravenclaw, but he thought she could’ve been a BRILLIANT one. an argument could’ve been made that dorcas, in another life, would’ve been a slytherin, maybe if she’d grown up differently, maybe if she had to rely more on self-preservation than she did at cleverly hiding things away she didn’t want the world to know. if she had a quick wit that stung because hers soared, it carried her above the masses, it made her a formidable chess rival because she was able to see more from the towers than the dungeons. from afar. observant for the sake of learning, not just for survival.           maybe she’d learned from the best, watching her father all these years, an imitation act that became an identity.          “checkmate,” dorcas smiled, bouncing in her seat, a bright smile on her face. in that moment, she could’ve screamed with joy, but it wasn’t the victory that was the most important to her – it was finally giving her father a worthy opponent. it wasn’t just student surpassing teacher, it was finally a meeting of EQUALS. belarus would always complain to dorcas about how dull the people at the pureblood societal events they went to were, the older she got the more he felt comfortable complaining and being so open, but he was never open enough. even though he was her father, dorcas knew he needed a friend, she hoped she could be as much as a friend to him as he was to her.          dorcas had a ready mind, she could tell that her father was not happy, that he was pretending more often than not, it was something they had in common. at least they could brave this world. TOGETHER. 

           →   no one gave any speeches. no one remembered belarus like dorcas did. her father, her monument, her soul – no one gave a shit, not a real one, besides dorcas. no one wanted to give more attention to the shameful tragedy that was belarus ending his life, they all thought him weak, unmanly, pathetic. some say that death sweetens the memory but for belarus, for everyone else but dorcas, it made the memory of his existence and how it ended left a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths. they barely spoke his name. the family who he’d left behind barely able to comprehend what he’d done – dorcas was no exception. she was the closest to him.  she remembers begging her mother to let her give a eulogy, to do something for her father’s memory, but it was all a cut and dry affair. there could be no tragedy if they didn’t mourn him like one, denial was their friend, her mother would coo into her ear and though dorcas knew she was right ( denial had been a dear friend over the years ) it didn’t feel like the right thing when it came to her father’s passing.         this struck dorcas meadowes as she was often NOT concerned on whether or not she was doing the right thing.         every year she leaves a charmed peace lily that lasts an entire month without any additional care ( because who else besides dorcas would visit him? ), every year there’s a period of time where dorcas just shuts herself in her bathtub and reads. not the prophet, which once held belarus’ obituary and a small section reserved for the meadowes family and their contribution to society, but the books she used to read with her father that she doesn’t touch any other days of the year. dorcas, who has always had various preparations for anything she did now lived by the little rituals to help her get through the monotony of her life without her father. the extensive skin care routine. the bi-weekly hair masks made by her own hands, diligently crafted in her cauldron. the way she redid and color coded the notes she had for all her classes every saturday afternoon at the end of the week. making her bed, the corners perfectly in place, every morning. rituals which help her maintain some semblance of balance without him around, to help her cope, that have become staples in her life that help her gather up the endurance to continue being her.         she goes on that way, the dorcas meadowes shown to the world is clever and knows what to say, know how to say the right things and when, is kind and is your friend, but not your best friend. she’s popular and known, she’s warm but distant, she’s an enigma to some but really she’s just a girl who knew the ART of surviving and knew how to make the best out of a situation that was impossible. that she couldn’t escape from. that she wouldn’t dream to escape from because why should she? the money, the access, the lack of personal fulfillment was easy to mask, she had the PRIVILEGE to do so much – she could do so much more from within should she ever want to lift a finger to do more than she did. there was nothing morally against her life, it might’ve killed her father, but how could she leave? her friends who meant the world to her were still by her side, the ones she’d grown up with, her mother may not have loved her but she had a legacy, a birthright, she had a place in society that was too precious to give up and she knew it. dorcas knew it, even if it killed her too, that her life was textbook-ly too good to leave.         still, she wondered, why couldn’t her father have stayed? at his funeral she looked at him, his body, one last time before he was put into the ground and could only wonder why?         she always thought she understood him, that she understood how he felt, but had she? had she ever? had she really? when she could still stay in this world while he was gone?

          →   had dorcas meadowes ever been loved by her mother? TRULY LOVED? given a hug not based on merit but because when you love someone so much you just can’t help but to physically cherish them, their existence, to express it in physical touch. had she ever given her daughter a kiss on the cheek before bed, wishing her sweet dreams, reading bedtime story upon bed time story until her imagination was quelled into a sleep filled with dreams &technicolor fantasies?        ( dorcas doesn’t dream anymore.                   if it’s not a dark sleep, it’s a SCENE.                           it’s a flashback. it’s the coroner’s report.                                  her father’s casket buried into the ground.                                                 bottles of merlot broken upon marble floors –                                                        was his blood that red too when he passed?                                    it’s QUESTION AFTER QUESTION,                          it’s maze after maze.           dorcas DOESN’T dream anymore. )         had her mother ever made her laugh so hard her mascara smudged, had she ever ever spent hours upon hours playing chess with her? had they read in their library in tandem, sitting in a comfortable silence for hours on end? had they ever sat on the balcony in their villa at lake como and talked about the world, about the stars ( she never listened or cared much about them but when belarus talked about the stars, about anything, you listened ). had she ever gone to paris with her and serenaded her on the tip top of the eiffel tower? had her mother spent hours answering EVERY question dorcas ever had? had she run through the streets of rome with her, flown on a broomstick at night around the colosseum ( what fun would being a wizard be if we can’t break into muggle monuments, my doe? ). had she jumped in the turquoise waters of santorini and spoken extremely horrible greek with a tired dorcas carried on her shoulders?        had she ever helped her when it wasn’t in her best interest to do so? had she ever let her daughter have the option of being ANYTHING but her own personal atlas?        ( her mother spent hours lost in booze, lost in anger, in a rage that dorcas could understand, could feel herself some days but with a Sterling Silver Role Model like her mother she vowed to never EVER be like her. her children would never know their mother blacked out, slurred speech, screaming, her children would only know chess, kindness, laughter, charms &gentleness – this she VOWS. )        dorcas wishes she could’ve lightened the load he felt, she hopes, she ( dreams ) knows that having just ONE month with him she could finally understand why he did what he did, why he left her, why she wasn’t enough to tie him to this earth for even a few years more when they BOTH could’ve made their escape? didn’t he know she’d follow him to the ends of the earth, didn’t he know he was her world, her stars, her sky, her OCEAN? if she had told him more, if only she had written him more letters. it kept her up at night, thinking of why she wasn’t enough and what more she could’ve done because when she looked back, she knew there was always so much more she could’ve been & done for him, dorcas wondered too –  did he know something she didn’t about leaving this society? was she forever trapped like him, was DEATH the only way out, was that why he did it? why, why, why, she made herself sick with the why but that wasn’t as important as the gift that having one more month with him would be. maybe, with their minds combined – she could bring him back. PERMANENTLY.        ( at least with a month she could let him know she LOVED him, she’d go to the ends of the world with & for him, that he was so so loved by her, that at least if she could only have ONE month, if life was to be even crueler than it already had been by giving her so much yet so little time, dorcas could let her father know he was LOVED. some people would be angry, sure, she was angry, but not at him. at everyone else around him. at his wife, her mother, but merlin, he was loved. that would be enough. )        lie. she needed so much more. 

A WORLD UPSIDE DOWN

          →   dorcas lets herself live in such denial, lets herself push down every doubt she has and any intent on acting on it easily because there is no need to act. but in the other timelines? there was. in one, voldemort won – she knows deep down she couldn’t have stood idly by and feels a deep sense of agony at the idea of doing so & getting confirmation that she didn’t is both relieving and terrifying. abandoning the people she grew up with ( because that’s what it is at the end of the day to those in pureblood society, ABANDONMENT ) is something she couldn’t see herself doing in her original timeline, but knowing she could should the political climate call for it, that her morals won out, that they always will –  gives her hope. it’s intriguing as well, getting proof that other timelines and alternative universes exist. fascinating for someone who’s already interested in the great beyond and fantasy worlds she’s read in her books but realizing she was living in a utopia compared to the other timelines is sobering. seeing the people she cares about in other timelines suffering through other universes while she’s in her ivory tower is guilt-inducing as well. it’s a wake up call, because dorcas never would’ve described herself as unhappy in her timeline now but seeing other timelines makes her realize things she’s been trying to hide from herself for so long and it’s scary. 

PLAYED BY  —  JINX FACECLAIM  —  MOON GA YOUNG

[idhruven]

#Shaneri

Baby Anni,

I know I still say baby, because that’s what you are to me today, one day before you tie the knot with the man of your dreams, that’s what you were the day Mamu and Mami brought you home from the third step of Vishweshwar Mahadev temple and that’s what you’ll always be. I just wanted to write this letter to you to tell you how proud I am that you’ve gone from wearing the fountain ponytails into this beautiful, young lady, taking on this big world and now you have the kindest gentleman by your side to help you do it.

Oh no! You’re getting married.

Oh, how many stories we could tell and how many secrets we’ve shared. It’s ENDLESS! The memories, the laughs, the tears, the highs, the lows.. we’ve lived them all. We’re about to experience yet another beautiful memory tomorrow as you say your vows in the Pheras and marry the man you were always supposed to find. I’ve got say a few things…

Tomorrow will not only change your life but also all of ours in the best way possible. Our little Anni will be a married woman! Remember the times we used to play ‘Ghar’ and you used to say, “I think I’ll be a pretty dulhan!” although we thought that this day would be somewhere with Sharukh Khan. But, girl, I’d say it’s even better than we imagined. Tomorrow is the big day we’ve dreamed about since we were little as I can remember and looking at the ‘Vaarghodas’ from our balconies! We always knew this day would be something special, but I have to say, you’ve made it even more that we could’ve imagined. I cannot wait to see you walk down the aisle in your beautiful sari taking your first steps down a path towards a new chapter. So, I sit here in this awful haircut that you are forcing me to wear, I realize that even though our relationship may not be exactly the same, I welcome new changes wholeheartedly.

I would need a thousand blog posts to tell you just how much you mean to me and just how PROUD I am of you. I will start by saying, I have been blessed in so many ways by having you as my sister. You have always been a person that I respect and admire! You’re everything “good”. What I mean by that is… you’re the kind of good that’s not just surface deep, but you’re good to the core; the purest of hearts. You always see the best in people and treat them with a kindness that is rare to find and anyone that is lucky enough to be in your life is BETTER because of it. I am so proud of for your strength and resilience. It hasn’t always been easy! You fought through difficult circumstances, and dealt with hardships, but you’ve overcome! All of those experiences have brought you here… to this special day. Through the ups and downs, God was faithful and we saw this first hand when he placed someone in your life that adores you. It is an answer to our prayers from our coutless trips to Palitana that you’ve found a man that cherishes you and sees you for who you are; how we all see you! Someone that makes you feel safe and accepts every part of you.

We’ve held hands through it all, the time you didn’t want to go to tuitions because you had a bad hair day, the time you wanted to sneak out for the night over in 11thgrade and even from all the times you were in bad mood when you had a fight with Shan! Even though I’m older, I always learned so much from you – like all those impromptu ‘Remix’ songs dances we used to do and show it to everyone in the house (more on this at the end)! Today and everyday I’m still here to hold your hand though it. I have watched you my entire life. It’s kind of also funny how nothing has changed throughout the years gone by.

I’ll start with this – you’re going to have a partner along with you during the big days of your life, the big parenting decisions, dealing with the parents and in-laws (Oh, and those Ekta Kapoor soaps we used to watch, no kidding, they’re kinda true), but you’ll also have someone to wake up with on Sunday mornings and do a closet cleaning session with. No matter how big or small just remember you’ll have fun during all those times. But, trust me when I say this – sometimes fun and magic will come easily to the both of you and sometimes you’re going to have to try hard. We’ve been best friends before I even knew what a best friend was, and have had some battles that only we can come back from. We’ve grown up side by side with one always catching the other when we fall, and catapulting one other during times of success. We’ve learned from each other’s mistakes and carried life lessons passed between us along the way. A friendship may know all of your best stories, but a sister is the one who lived them with you. And damn it that ever the truth.

I can’t wait to hear about milestones that’ll make up your early years of marriage – like you finally not burning dinner, or him bringing flowers to you at work. But I’ll also be eagerly waiting to hear about the later ones: the dinner you will have perfected over the years, or him bringing you flowers for your golden anniversary.

Remember this Anni, relationships aren’t easy and compromises are a must. There will be days that you’ll have to let Shan go for drinks with the guys even though you want to spend the evening with him and there will be days that he’ll have to take on baby duty because your friend wants to watch a re-run of Koffee with Karan and eat ice cream cause she had a fight with her boyfriend! But you’ll soon realize it is all worth it. Every night you’ll be able to come and snuggle up to your favourite man (well second favorite, after Prabu Ofcourse) and the compromises will just seem like a teeny-tiny price to pay. We are not perfect, and we never try to be. We would rather eat ‘Paanchur’ than get all dulled up and dine out at a fabcy restaurant. We laugh too hard, but never too often, and usually make a fool of ourselves (okay mostly me) in the process. We’ve defended one another without giving it a second thought.

We are brother and sister.

As we approach this big day I just thought some elder brother words of wisdom should be passed down. I am after all 13 months, and a nephew older as well as not adopted, but not so sure about the wiser part (you know I’m just winging it as it comes, right?) Even though I feel like I have already welcomed Shan into our lives (Yes Shan, I say our lives because she was and will always be mine first), tomorrow makes it official. So, before he takes you from me, and changes your last name, I am taking one last moment to make it all about us. The Shah Bro-Sis.

Anni, you’re going to make the most stunning, loving, and brightest bride tomorrow. And your dulhe-raja will be waiting for you at the mandap all ready to fall in love with that radiant smile all over again. For some siblings, that may feel a little like two people parting ways. But I know that isn’t the case for us! I will no longer be just a brother anymore, but a brother-in-law, and one day (hopefully soon), a Mama again!

Also, forgive me, because I will promise not to cry, but then of course I will, because it will be hard not to. I’ll shed a tear when you hold your husband’s hand for the first time as a married lady and pose for a picture. When you ask me to hug you one last time before you leave the venue, I’ll probably not do it because I won’t be able to stop bawling because it’s too hard. It won’t be easy to let a part of my heart go, without me mourning, even though I know this is such a happy occasion. It’s hard to share you with anyone else!

So, I pen down my thoughts today, thinking about you in that gorgeous ping Lehenga, I have tears in my eyes. I’m now not only your big brother but Shan’s too! I hope I live upto the task. But if you ask me, I’m crazy excited to have a new member in our little gang! Tomorrow marks the beginning of a new chapter. Not just for you and Shan, but for us too. Uncharted waters that neither of us truly know anything about. You will officially be writing a new story and creating a new family. A family of your own.

Besides, another apology is for being a tad too clingy. I know that I need to let you go and live this new exciting life, but it’ll take me some time to accept it! I’ll call you 10 times a day, I’ll constantly ask you to come home and meet us, and I will be tad jealous of your husband because hey, he is fast becoming as special as I am, to you! Yes, I will probably never accept that he can become more special than me to you, even though he has every right to be. I also have to open my heart to include Shan in my life as much as I love you, I will be a little rude and annoying at times. Sorry if I ever ignore him and only hug you instead!

Enjoy the day baby, it’s your once in a lifetime fairytale day and we’re all here to make it as special as the one you’ve been dreaming about. You and Shan are going to live a joyful life together, grow old loving eachother, learning new quirks about eachother and making the best team ever. I am showering all my love, flowers, blessings and anything else I can get a hold on for the two of you. The way you two look at eachother, assures me that your adoration will last a lifetime and he’ll be there to protect you whenever I can’t. Our bond is stronger than ever before, and I will stand beside you tomorrow like I have our entire lives and continue to do so no matter where life takes us.

On this day, I toast to us and the bond that can never be broken to the new life you are about to start with the man of your dreams.

Happy Wedding day, Anni! The best is yet to come…

All of my Love from the best friend and brother for life,

Prabhu

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[owlsshadows]

Zen time (IzanaYuki, part 4)

1 Tea Time | 2 Study Time | 3 Garden Time

“So,” the prince starts after he sends a long, telltale glance towards his brother, “the two of you are trying to cheat the Council of the Wise.”

Shirayuki blinks in response, loss for words. Unlike she expected, Zen is not angry nor does he play unbelieving – he simply seems tired, after they sat him down in Izana’s study and told him the entire truth. She feels an itch to correct him, to tell him that this is not about deceiving the council… but Izana silences her with his fingers crawling up her hand and encircling her wrist.

“Yes,” he replies, looking straight into his brother’s eyes. “I buried Haki a year ago. Tradition says I should start looking for a new bride. You know just as well as I do how much I wish to go through this all.”

Zen shakes his head, stifling a sigh.

“Couldn’t you reason with them?” he asks.

“I tried. I really did.”

“Still… why Shirayuki?”

The pain in his voice breaks Shirayuki’s heart. She condemns herself for being blind, too invested in the king’s schemes to see the people she may hurt on the way – she enjoyed playing housewith Izana so much, she has forgotten the consequences.

Zen, if not now, loved her. He cherished her dearly even after she rejected him – for a while, at least, she could still feel his longing gazes on her. She was wary of it – always careful, always respecting his feelings – so why now? How now?

Izana monopolized her thoughts before she realized it.

“It… seemed right,” Shirayuki admits before Izana could speak. From the periphery of her vision she can see him stirring in his seat, and the next moment Izana’s hand slips in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m aware that I’m not worthy to be the queen… and I don’t even aspire to be it. I just…”

“No, Shirayuki, you don’t have to explain anything, I get it,” Zen says. “The one who needs to come clear is my brother. Using someone’s compassion to force them into this situation…”

“Would be truly unacceptable,” Izana finishes his sentence. “I agree. Still,” he continues, slowly, hesitantly, seeming almost meek for the king Shirayuki has got to know, “I don’t plan on backing down. If Shirayuki accepts, that is.”

“Accept what?” Zen asks back, curt in surprise.

Shirayuki feels a tug, a hand pulling hers closer.

“My proposal.”

“Your what?”

“I am not keen on the idea of remarriage,” Izana says. “Honestly, I am still mourning my wife and unborn child and may be doing so for the rest of my life. But for the sake of my country I am requested to marry, and if I were to marry someone I can’t think of anyone else I would spend my life with but her. We are indeed cheating the Council here. But I am also courting Shirayuki honestly.”

Ah.

Here it comes.

The angry, disbelieving Zen.

“I’m afraid you took your jokes too far this time, Brother…”

“You asked me once, didn’t you?” Izana asks. “You wanted to know why I don’t befriend Shirayuki. I think I told you that it was for your own good.”

“I thought you were teasing,” Zen snaps.

Izana’s grasp on her hand tightens as he leans closer to glare at his younger brother. He looks like a predator now, seizing his prey.

“Of course I was teasing. I thought you two had an understanding. It doesn’t change the fact that I was mesmerized by her beauty and her brains.”

“Izana…” Shirayuki breathes.

As if he has forgotten her presence he stirs, a faint shade of red tinting the tip of his ears.

“My apologies, Shirayuki. I didn’t intend to discuss this in your company.”

She finds Izana’s embarrassment endearing. But endearment is not enough, not to convince Zen nor to encourage Izana. She feels it in her guts, the need for her to share with them her decision –the outcome of all her cumulative thoughts since Izana has asked for her hand on a whim.

She rolls her hand in Izana’s hold which becomes lax, misinterpreting her will as if she asked him to let go. She twists her wrist, pressing her fingers against his and entwining them.

In the beginning, she took it as a game.

It has long surpassed it.

“It’s fine,” she says, looking from Izana to Zen. “I wanted to be entirely truthful about this. You, of all people, deserve it. Izana needed help and I had the audacity to make a wager out of it. I’m not… queen material. I don’t have the lineage, the upbringing, the grace and the strength for it. I therefore don’t think that I would be fit for the role.”

“Self-deprecating, as usual,” Izana adds.

“Nonetheless, if Izana deems me suitable I don’t see why I can’t marry him,” she continues unfazed. Facing Zen, she is able to say the things she kept to herself so far. Facing Zen gives her the power to speak. Facing Zen, Zen who deserves to know the full truth, makes her feel invincible. Even if she is wrong, even if she does not play by the rules, she feels right to speak up. “That, if he can meet all my conditions.”

“Conditions?” Zen asks back.

“I am before anything else a pharmacist and a researcher, neither I’m willing to give up for the sake of marriage. Therefore, I insisted that as an engagement gift, he provides me with an assistant, a study and a garden.”

“This…”

“Before you say anything, Zen. I know it doesn’t sound like something I would do, marry for advantages. But I don’t think this is wrong, for one condition Izana offered himself.”

Zen looks at her bewildered. There is real dread in his voice now, low and throaty, something in between a whisper and a shout.

“And what was it?”

Shirayuki braces herself, squeezing the hand in hers. She never intended to hurt anyone, especially not Zen, but she has no other options. The question in hand has no win-win answer.

“I would only marry him if he managed to make me fall in love.”

Zen looks straight into her eyes, so she can see his sadness clearly as realization hits. She rejected his feelings because she didn’t reciprocate them. She didn’t give him the chance to charm her – the chance she granted to his brother.

His brother is allowed to court her – even though she has never shown any signs of interest or favoritism towards Izana; never openly stared in his way or sought his company. Really, apart from the times Suzu brought up their encounter with royal pharmacist Lowen, Shirayuki never even spoke of him in front of her friends – no matter how her opinion of the king has changed through the years from insufferable to alluring.

It was so unlike Zen, a young, feverish love seeking refuge in her – her feelings for Izana grew little by little year by year. First, it was not more than a puddle, a glimpse of hope she allowed herself to feel, a chance she gave the king after his cruel test. It grew into a pond before she realized it; for him to allow her to sit with him in the saddle, for him to take her seriously, to approve of her professional opinion. When he carried her back to the infirmary, she felt his arms around her, and she wished he would cradle her for the rest of the night.

But while she entertained the thought, Izana remained untouchable, and so she kept her little crush buried deep inside, allowing herself to befriend him on the condition of never showing her feelings to him.

She feels a thumb caress the inner side of her wrist, drawing ticklish little circles across her skin. Thirst, the long forgotten beast nesting in the depths of her body, awakens slowly from its slumber. She entered this gamble on her own, thinking Izana thought of it as a game – and she is rapidly losing.

“To fulfil this condition, I’m courting Shirayuki,” she hears Izana’s voice. Afraid to reveal her emotions facing him, she glances down at her free hand in her lap. “She’s not obliged to marry me and I won’t hold any grudge if she decides that I’m no good.”

“Still,” Zen says. He sounds sad, a little broken even. “You risk tarnishing Shirayuki’s respectable reputation by playing this game, Brother.”

“I was the one who agreed to it!” Shirayuki rebuts. “I was the one who turned his proposal a game…”

“I take full responsibility,” Izana cuts in, squeezing her hand. “I will see to it that her reputation remains spotless throughout this whole affair.”

“It’s not enough, Brother,” Zen shakes his head. “By bringing her to the castle, I’ve already done plenty of damage to her image. I can’t let you continue what I started…”

“Zen,” Shirayuki interrupts, placing her free hand on his. The prince sends her a smile before turning to his brother.

“I don’t want Shirayuki to end up unhappy.”

“Me neither,” Izana shakes his head.

Zen takes his time to reply. His gaze rests on Izana’s face for a moment, clever and contemplating – he looks more alike his brother than ever. Then he drops his gaze to the tabletop, curious. As if he could see through it, see their hands interlinked, he raises a brow, lifting his eyes and looking at both of them. As though on cue, Shirayuki and Izana let go, eliciting a short snort from Zen.

“I advise you to do your damn best then,” he finally says, standing from the table. “If you hurt her, I will personally hold you accountable.”

“Well noted,” Izana raises, offering his hand.

“Good luck,” Zen shakes it.

The way he says it, it could be mocking – as if he didn’t believe Izana had a chance.

Shirayuki finds it quite sad, just how wrong he is.

“If you don’t mind,” he continues, “I have to take my leave now. My dear paperwork is waiting for me upstairs. And Shirayuki,” he turns, “if you ever find my brother to be a bother, you know where you find me.”

“I know,” Shirayuki nods.

“Let me be the first to help.”

“Thank you.”

Shirayuki follows him with her eyes as he walks out, with straightened back and even steps, nothing that would visibly show his pain.

“He took it better than expected.”

“He really did mature, huh?” Izana asks, slumping back on his seat.

“Either that, or we became more childish,” Shirayuki replies.

Izana laughs, shaking his head.

“Do you still believe we’d better steal his horse?”

“I’m conflicted,” Shirayuki says, leaning her head to the side. “On one hand, I’m happy we told him.”

“And on the other?” Izana asks, eyes following the perimeters of her face.

“I still mourn our walk on the beach,” she deadpans, earning an honest chuckle from Izana.

“What have you planned for today?”

“Digging in the mud.”

“Sounds wonderful. Care if I join?”

“I would rather join you in your activities, Your Majesty. I’m afraid seeing you all dirty would tarnish my image of you.”

“You’re so damn hard to charm,” Izana huffs.

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t care getting dirty for you, yet you refute my efforts.”

“Sorry. I don’t do it on purpose.”

“No, I’m positive you were teasing just now.”

“Ah… well. Maybe?” Shirayuki squints, searching his face.

Izana stares at her for a while before he speaks; as if he was hesitant whether to say something or not. If he was anyone else, she would reach out, hold his shoulder or touch his face to encourage him to speak – but this is Izana, and she still feels the barrier she has raised.

He is a king.

Her inner turmoil does not go unnoticed, for Izana to give her a short smile.

“Truly, you’re a hard one to crack. You’re successful, rich and beautiful. You can buy whatever you need, go wherever you want to, marry whomever you wish. I have nothing to offer. I should win your heart with my good looks and amicable personality alone.”

“Amicable?” Shirayuki asks, raising her brows.

“I know,” Izana laughs. “My chances are slim.”

She reaches out, timidly, tentatively, running a finger down his cheeks and along the edge of his chin. His skin is smooth, soft, warm.

He is her king.

“At least you are pretty,” she teases.

Next

[chibinightowl]

The Adventures of Sir Timothy Drake

Link to Chapter Three

Chapter Four: The Realization

It took them the better part of a week to finally leave Jason’s lair, mostly because of the dragon’s inability to settle on which books he refused to leave behind during his sojourn in what he’s taken to calling the human lands. Tim jokingly referred to it as his exile, which wasn’t far off the mark as far as he was concerned. No one in their right minds should want marry him just for his brain, but Jason stubbornly insisted otherwise.

When the dragon groused about leaving the cave unattended for so long, Tim’s blithe response about no one using his books for anything other than kindling during a cold winter did not go over well, leaving Jason huffing smoke for several hours afterwards, effectively driving Tim out of the cave to fend for himself one night. It had been worth it, getting under Jason’s skin and seeing him pout like some maiden whose favorite trinket had been threatened.

The night before they planned to leave, Tim curled up in one of the plush armchairs, the book by the elvish healer Jason recommended (and unerringly found the day after he mentioned it) in his lap. An elvish grammar was tucked in next to him, which the dragon had also dug up for him after he admitted elvish was not a language he spoke or read well. Jason didn’t judge him for it though, other than stating that was another crime, and so they spent the better part of two days rectifying it.

His reading was slow, but utterly fascinating. He was also comfortably warm, the lighting perfection, and a goblet of mulled wine sat on a small side table next to him. It was the epitome of comfort and already, Tim mourned the loss. At least month of hard travel lay before them, the first stretch of it on foot as Jason didn’t have a horse. They’d discussed Tim riding ahead and Jason flying (flying!) after him a few days later, but the dragon didn’t seem particularly pleased with the thought of letting him out of sight.

Tim chalked it up to being part of Jason’s hoard now, a new and shiny bauble to play with.

A warm hand ruffled his hair and he looked up to see the dragon standing behind him. “Are you done packing, then?” he asked, closing his book.

“As much as I can be,” Jason replied, trailing his fingers down through Tim’s hair to cradle the side of his face. Tim leaned into it, enjoying the easy touch. The dragon was extremely tactile and for someone as touch starved as him, he welcomed the simple affection. “I think you’re right and that I’ll take little trips back here whenever it gets to be too much.”

Tim’s eyes danced in delight. “Did you just admit that I’m right about something?”

“Don’t get used to it.” Jason tapped the tip of Tim’s nose and removed his hand, striding around the chair to take a seat in the one opposite of him. “Are you going to bring those with?” he asked, gesturing to the books.

“Only if they’re ones you’re willing to risk outside.” Tim had learned that there were some books that Jason flat out refused to ever let see the light of day again, old and rare tomes that were so delicate to touch that he wore special gloves and used tweezers to turn the pages when reading. Tim had been enthralled by these and dutifully wore the gloves Jason gave him when he showed him one. The illuminated pages of the manuscript were some of the most beautiful he’d ever seen. His current reading material certainly wasn’t in that category, but there were others that the dragon simply didn’t want to leave the cave.

“The grammar is fine,” Jason replied after a moment’s thought. “Those are easy to find and, to be honest, I’m still surprised I even had it. The other one…” he stared a while longer, blue eyes growing darker the longer he remained silent.

“It’s all right,” Tim said, setting the healer’s book aside. “I’m not that far into it.” He wished he could read it faster, he really did, but the language was slow going, which was a shame because what he’d read so far was utterly fascinating. Who knew that the brain was capable of so much?

Jason surprised him though when he shook his head. “No, bring it. You’re enjoying it and I can smell your disappointment from here. I’ve got a special cloth I can wrap it in to protect it from dust and keep it dry if it rains.”

“Thank you.” It meant a lot that the dragon trusted him with one of his prized possessions. “I’ll make sure to take good care of it.”

“I know you will.”

The next morning, Jason sealed his cave and they were on their way. Tim wasn’t entirely sure how it was done, but there was magic involved, he could tell that much. Once the cave was secure, Jason put his human glamor on. His argument was that this close to his lair, he didn’t want to risk anyone putting two and two together. The air around him shimmered, light bending and refracting into little rainbows before it settled, leaving the dragon without his horns, dark nails, or his glowing eyes.

Tim sighed quietly because he liked those horns and loved what Jason did when he gripped them just right. But this wasn’t about his preferences, it was about Jason’s, so he shoved those thoughts to the side and studied the all too human looking eyes gazing back at him in amusement. “They’re still the same shade of blue,” he finally said. “I’m glad.”

Jason smirked, cocksure and comfortable now that his true self was hidden away. “Aw, are you becoming smitten with my eyes?”

“Amongst other things,” Tim admitted. It was hard not to be, especially after spending so much time with the man. Jason loved to tell stories but he also had a knack for drawing Tim out of his shell, asking questions about his life and his own studies, such as they were.

“I got lucky in the looks department, I know.” Jason teased and shrugged his massive shoulders. His tattoos were on full display as his choice of travel gear included a sleeveless version of the same black and red jacket he’d worn the night they met.

“Oh, so that’s not an illusion either?”

Jason threw a small rock at him, which Tim ducked while trying not to laugh. It was all too easy to rile the dragon up sometimes.

Tim’s lovely Robin was laden down with books and two small chests of nearly priceless treasures the dragon deemed insignificant enough to part with in return for Tim’s freedom. “I hope you’re worth it,” Jason joked, watching as the final straps were tied into place. “I didn’t think I’d have to pay this kind of bride-price for you.”

The mare did not look happy about being a beast of burden and Tim patted her nose soothingly. “Think of it this way,” he replied as they started down the faint trail, heading away from the cave. “You’ll be getting a massive dowry from me. And, when I die, all of these things will be coming back to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Something in what he said had the dragon huffing smoke before the man looked away. Tim had finally realized it was a behavior of Jason’s that only came about when he was agitated. It was something he filed away to ponder over later. Mortality was a concept he had more than made his peace with, even in the short span of his life. The war changed his perspective on death, after seeing how easy it was to extinguish even a single life and made Tim cherish it that much more. It was small wonder King Bruce only went to war when he had no other choice.

Apparently wasn’t something Jason thought much about, beyond abstract terms perhaps. The stories said dragons were ancient creatures, possibly even products of a bygone era. Tim knew this not to be true after Jason informed him he was rather young for a dragon. No longer a juvenile, but he was still working through what it meant to be an adult dragon. Others considered him brash and impulsive, to which Tim had to roll his eyes because no, that couldn’t be his Jason at all.

It took them six days to reach the large town on the edge of what Tim thought of as the human lands. The country beyond was considered wild and inhospitable, perfect for a dragon who wanted to be alone but still craved companionship. As they approached the wall considered by most to be the divide between civilized lands and not, it became clear just how backwards his beliefs on that concept was. Just because something didn’t conform to his expectations, did not automatically make it uncouth. He cast a glance over at Jason, who somehow managed to walk and read at the same time, and smiled. His mother would be having a conniption fit of epic proportions when he arrived home with the outspoken dragon.

Tim couldn’t wait to see it.

“Hey,” he said, trying to get the dragon’s attention. “We’re here.” On this side of the wall, there was next to no traffic on the road.

“Finally,” Jason sighed and closed his book with a snap. He rustled around in one of Robin’s many bags to put it away. “I want a bath and a place to put my feet up, not necessarily in that order.”

“Agreed. I stayed at the Everyman when I passed through before and enjoyed it well enough. You have any preferences?” Tim knew this was not Jason’s first visit. As the closest population of any kind in these parts, it was where the dragon often sought refuge from his boredom. The town was predominantly human, but he’d observed halfings and some dwarves last time.

“They’ve got the best ale on tap,” Jason replied with a grin. “I’ve been there more than once.”

The inn was their first stop and the while old innkeeper greeted them both enthusiastically, he directed Jason to the taproom right away to put his feet up. It left Tim to deal with unloading Robin. The inn was rather small and while there was a stable boy, there wasn’t a porter. Not that he minded all that much as there was some rather precious cargo aboard his mare and he didn’t want just anyone handling it.

As soon as everything was unloaded, Robin’s eye-roll of relief made Tim laugh. He rubbed her velvety nose. “I know. You didn’t like that at all. You’re a warhorse, not a pack mule.”

“Seriously, do you always talk to her like that?” Jason asked, coming out the back door and into the small courtyard with a tall mug of ale in his hand.

“Who else do I have to talk to?” Tim replied. “Besides you.” He handed the reins over to the waiting stable boy. “No biting,” he warned his mare.

Jason already had one of the chests balanced on his hip and a bag of books slung over his shoulder, all without spilling a drop. “I’ve arranged for our room. Follow me.”

“Our room?” Tim questioned as he picked up his bundles and the other chest. His chainmail weighted everything down, but he refused to wear it when there wasn’t a need to.

“Yes, our room,” Jason repeated, holding the door open for Tim. “You didn’t think I was gonna let all this stuff out of my sight, did you?” It was implied that the dragon considered him part of that stuff.

Tim didn’t want to even try and answer that question as he followed Jason down the short hallway and up the back staircase. “You seem pretty well known around here. What do you pass yourself off as?”

“An itinerant mage,” the man replied, shrugging his broad shoulders. He opened the door to one of the inn’s three rooms. “It’s not like anyone this rural would know better, and it explains the odd smoke I can’t help. When I get bored, even the company of humans is better than none at all.”

“Is that typical of dragons?” It was something Tim had been wondering about. He set the chest down on the floor and lowered the other bag of books even more carefully on top of it. His own gear he dropped without a second thought.

The room wasn’t huge, but there was a large bed taking up most of it. A chest of drawers rested against the far wall and a water pitcher and basin sat atop it. The sole window looked out over the small courtyard at the back of the inn.

“No, not really,” Jason admitted sheepishly, setting his burdens down on the bed. He took a sip from his ale before he continued. “We’re solitary by nature, until we find our mate.”

Tim wanted to ask more questions but bit his cheek to keep the barrage back as Jason was clearly uncomfortable with the topic. He felt he should say something though. “Well, if you do happen to find them while we’re married, I will of course release you from our vows. You should be with the person…dragon…that you love.”

The dragon gave him an unreadable look but didn’t say anything.

“Well, we still need to go get your horse,” Tim prodded, changing the subject. He stretched and eyed the bed, wishing there was time for a quick nap. The afternoon sun would soon fade into evening and as much as he wished they could linger for a day, they needed to be back on the road in the morning.

“No, you need to get my horse,” Jason replied pointedly. “I know precisely dick about them, aside from the fact they’re good eating.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “You are not eating this horse when we get home.”

“You sure about that?” Jason grinned toothily. Even with his glamor in place, they still appeared longer than normal. “Besides, I am not leaving even this little bit of my hoard until I can set up some wards, even if I did get the key to lock up.”

The statement stung a little. “I thought I was part of your hoard? Doesn’t that mean I need to be watched over too?” It slipped out before Tim could stop himself.

Jason set his ale down on the dresser and crossed the room to Tim. He cupped his chin in a large hand and then warm lips were pressed against his own. Tim opened his mouth slightly when the dragon’s questing tongue sought entrance, turning the kiss from chaste to filthy in nothing flat. But that was often the way it was with Jason, his mood like his fire as it flared up and settled back down, stoked until the next time.

Tim blinked rapidly when the dragon finally released him, trying to gather his wits.

The other man looked altogether too pleased with himself. “There. No wandering off on me now, you hear?”

As though that was ever going to be a problem.

A couple hours later, Tim returned to the inn with a large bay gelding and a smaller brown packhorse in tow. New tack for both of them had been purchased and fitted, leaving his purse significantly lighter, for all that Jason had given him the coin to cover everything. He still didn’t like it, but this far from home, his own resources were dwindling.

Gaining the taproom, Tim spotted Jason holding court over by the fireplace. He chuckled at the sight of the locals crowded around him, listening to whatever story he was regaling them with.

Tim caught the attention of the pretty barmaid, a heavy tray balanced in one hand as she deftly wove between the tables. “What’s dinner tonight?”

She gave him an impatient look, eager to return to the story being told across the room. “Venison stew and a loaf of bread.”

“I’ll have that and an ale, please.”

The young woman nodded absently before making her way back to the fireplace.

Tim sat down at an empty table to watch Jason. This was the first time he’d had a chance to observe the dragon around anyone else and his fingers itched for his journal. Jason was, to put it mildly, simply captivating, even with his human glamor on. There was such a strong presence about him, one that drew people in despite the roguish exterior.

It had to be the smile, Tim decided when his dinner arrived.

To his surprise, Jason rose to join him, sitting down heavily across from him. “Did you buy dinner?” he asked with a wink.

“Yes, I did.” Tim pointedly looked down at his bowl. “Did you eat?” He didn’t expect Jason to, but he did have a cover to maintain as a human. How far did that extend?

“Oh, let me get you a bowl, Jason!” the barmaid said, having followed the dragon over to Tim’s table. She smiled, revealing a dimple in her cheek. “I’ll be right back!”

Tim snickered, watching her practically race into the kitchen. “You actually going it eat it?”

“Whatever I don’t choke down is going to you,” Jason replied, making a face at the thought of eating a human meal. “I don’t mind rare meat, but that,” he pointed at the bits of cooked meat floating in gravy along with some summer vegetables, “Is disgusting.”

“The things you do for your character.” Tim didn’t feel bad for him. At all.

Jason’s groan turned into a smile as the young woman brought an extra large bowl filled to the brim with the savory stew and some more bread. She beamed before she was called away to another table. Glowering at the bowl, he muttered, “Meat should be raw and bloody.”

Tim made a mental note to invest in a herd of cattle specifically for Jason when they arrived home. The trouble would be worth it as it would keep the local populace happy and no one could say they’d lost a cow to the dragon’s appetite, such as it was. He’d known him for almost two weeks now and had yet to see a single bite pass his lips. Drink was another matter.

Wine and ale didn’t seem to garner comment and Jason partook of both equally, especially after he ate about half of the stew, dumping the rest into Tim’s bowl when he decided enough was enough. The young woman running between tables didn’t seem to mind topping off his ale at all. Tim was pretty sure it never went below the halfway point the entire time he was eating.

Once the empty bowls were taken away, Jason rejoined the crowd by the fireplace. He started telling another story and flirted shamelessly with all the women in the small crowd, much to their enjoyment and to Tim’s amusement. It reminded him of something Jason had said before they slept together for the first time, about his own preferences. Human women.

Jason had been alone at the inn for a while before Tim returned with the horses. Plenty of time to fool around after setting his protection spells. A flash of jealousy raced through him before he squashed it hard. They were not married. Yet. Until they were wed, Jason could do as he wished. Tim too for that matter, should he have the desire to do so. Besides, he had no right to be jealous of anything the dragon did. Jason had saved his sad excuse for a life and given him the chance to make something of it.

Tim was never going to be able to repay the favor. Not in this life or the next.

From across the room, Jason shot him a concerned look, making Tim force his eyes away from the man. He stood abruptly and tossed a few small coins onto the table. A bath would be great right about now. Nice and private.

He stopped by the bar and made the arrangements with the innkeeper, who said he’d inform his wife right away.

Tim was halfway up the front staircase before he realized he didn’t have the key to their room. He’d have to get it from Jason. And that meant approaching him while he was under the eye of his adoring audience. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

“Forget something?”

Turning, Tim saw Jason standing behind him, a couple steps down, and dangling a key from one long finger.

“Thanks.” Tim attempted to take it, but Jason drew it back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes flashing in the low light of the stairwell.

“Nothing is wrong,” Tim replied. He tried to shrug it off, but it was obvious the dragon wasn’t buying it. “I want a bath and some clean clothes.” Jason should know by now just how fastidious he was and hoped his regular habits would play in his favor.

“Don’t lie to me, Tim. I can smell it.”

Double shit. Since when was this a thing he had to be concerned about? Smelling a lie? How was that possible? He knew dogs could scent emotions to an extent. Was this similar? Tim gave himself a mental shake and forced himself to focus. “I thought I’d give you some alone time,” he stated, trying to sound as matter of fact as possible. “You know, for…whatever. Or whoever.”

There. He said it.

The dragon closed the distance between them, standing on the stair just below Tim to look him directly in the eyes. “Do you want me to?” Jason asked quietly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Tim replied, trying to hide his discomfiture. “You’re the one who’s doing me the favor of a lifetime.”

The answer did not satisfy the other man and Jason leaned forward, his all too human eyes still managing to blaze with their intensity. “What you want matters, Tim. You’ve never had the freedom to speak up about it before, but with me, you always will. So tell me, what do you want?”

“I…” Tim didn’t know. The option to choose, to have a say in matters of the heart was not something he was used to having. Realization crashed down on him, bringing with it stunning clarity that Jason truly could give him everything he secretly desired. Acceptance. Companionship. A true partnership of equals.

In that moment, Tim fell in love. And immediately cursed himself because how could a dragon ever return the love of a human? Rather than face those still unearthly blue eyes, he snatched the room key out of Jason’s hand. “I want a bath. I’ll see you later.”

There was a small chamber at the back of the inn where, for a few coins, he could wash up in a small copper tub. The innkeeper’s wife brought several kettles of hot water for him while he filled a few buckets with cold water from the well in the courtyard. She fussed over him and brought him soap and a clean towel to dry with while promising his laundry would be done by morning. He’d spent two days here last time, enjoying the simple hospitality that wasn’t present in larger inns that he could have frequented instead.

“Now, if you need anything, just ring that bell,” she said, pointing to a small cord hanging off to the side.

“I will,” Tim promised and finally shooed her out. He stripped down and lowered himself into the bright tub. The water felt wonderful even if it paled in comparison to Jason’s luxurious bathing chamber. He ducked his head under the water, holding his breath for as long as he could before he came up spluttering.

What was wrong with him? Yes, Tim would freely admit he found Jason attractive. A person would have to be blind not to. He enjoyed what they had between them, shiny and new as it was. But what would it be like next year? Or the year after that? Things he should have thought of before accepting this little offer swarmed through his mind. He’d been so focused on his immediate situation that he lost track of the bigger one.

Tim never once believed he’d ever marry for love. He was of a high enough station his wife would be chosen for him, if his mother ever decided. She’d be furious the choice was taken away from her and that she wouldn’t have someone new to terrorize. Jason wouldn’t stand for it. At all.

And that was the crux of it, he realized. With Jason at his side, anything was possible. Choices that he never had before were now his, including whether or not he wanted to let his betrothed screw around with the barmaid. He shoved that thought out of his head. They’d agreed almost from day one that they would be faithful after their wedding. This was not something he’d take away from him.

Jealousy, Tim decided as he dunked his head under the water again, was an ugly thing.

When he resurfaced, Jason was standing beside the tub staring down at him, the small downward twist of his mouth indicating his displeasure.

“Are you trying to drown yourself? I didn’t think humans could breathe underwater.”

Tim shook his head, brushing back his hair so he could see better. “No, we don’t. I just like to hold my breath. It’s quieter under there.” He blinked some droplets of water out of his eyes. “Did you need something?”

He would not bring up his abrupt dismissal. Not unless Jason did.

The dragon leaned over him, hands grasping the edges of the tub as he moved closer. His nostrils flared slightly, scenting the air, scenting Tim. “You panicked earlier when I asked what you wanted. Why?”

Trust Jason to not beat around the bush. It would be refreshing if it weren’t directed at him. “You startled me,” Tim admitted, trying to hedge. He refused to state the real reason why he left. “I’m not used to being asked what I want.”

That should be safe enough.

Jason’s eyes crinkled, clearly not buying it. “You looked scared about something.” His voice lowered and he cast his gaze down, as uncertainty entered his expression. “Did I scare you?”

Tim sat up in a rush, water spilling over the edge of the tub and on the floor, splashing Jason for all that he paid no notice to it. “No,” he said vehemently. “You didn’t scare me. At all. I’ve never once been scared of you. If I were, do you think we’d have done everything we have together?”

Lazy afternoons spent by the small stream, Jason tracing idle patterns into Tim’s bare skin as they regaled each other with stories of their various adventures. Evenings in the cave sitting in companionable silence with their respective books. And the nights...Tim doubted he’d ever want to share a bed with anyone else, even if he only ever cuddled with Jason ever again.

“You could have forced yourself, thinking it was what I wanted. Humans are capable of that,” Jason tried. He looked utterly miserable at the thought.

Tim grabbed hold of his chin and forced his head up, locking eyes with him. “Yes, people do that. All the time. But I am not one of them. If I wasn’t interested in men, that first bath would have gone a lot differently. You’re attracted to my brain. Well, I’m attracted to the full package.”

Jason searched Tim’s face for a lie, nostrils flaring again as he sought out any trace of untruth. He must have finally believed him as he relaxed. “You’re not the only one who’s attracted to everything too.”

The admission rocked Tim and he sat heavily in the cooling water. “Why? I’m not anything special to look at.”

A snort of amusement followed by puff of smoke was Jason’s first response. “You’re not seeing through my eyes,” he stated once the smoke was under control again. “Standards of beauty change every year it seems but I have my own particular tastes. And while elven men aren’t quite so short, you share many of the same physical characteristics they do.”

Tim bristled. “I’m not that short.” The top of his head was level with Jason’s nose when they were standing upright.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

This time, the splash was on purpose.