#human longing. heart hurt. knowing you share a moment. knowing that moment will pass. hoping it won't.

[neverendingford]

,

[mononijikayu]

already gone – gojo satoru.

(manga spoilers for chapter 261)

His eyes flicked to yours, a flicker of pain and understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that there would be no going back to the way things were. The choices made here would haunt you, but you also knew that you would face the future together, bound by the shared weight of your decisions and the unspoken promise of support.

GENRE: shinjiku showdown arc (spoilers for chapter 261)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: already gone by sleeping at last

NOTE: im mourning so hard, i haven't stopped crying. but i cried more because i can't imagine how my oc would feel considering genmei views satoru as her lifeline. im not even at that part of the story writing, but genmei would be hit hard. she wouldnt be able to move on. she wouldn't be able to stop crying either. but i needed to write this, to get the emotional brunt off my chest. i hope that this comforts you a little as it did with me. i love you all. hugs for everyone.

masterlist

u s and t h e m

THERE REALLY WAS NO GOING BACK FROM THIS. You and Satoru sat alone amidst the aftermath, the bodies of the higher-ups lying around you, a grim testament to the brutal reality you both faced. 

The silence was heavy, a suffocating weight that pressed down on your chest as you stared at the carnage. The acrid scent of blood and death hung in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang that coated your tongue. Each breath felt like an effort, the gravity of what had transpired settling over you like a dark cloud.

Satoru, usually so carefree and unbothered, looked uncharacteristically solemn. His usually bright, mischievous eyes were shadowed with emotions embroiling into a chaotic harmony. 

He sat close to you, his hand resting on the ground beside yours, fingers almost brushing but not quite. The unspoken connection between you had always been palpable. Even when both of you were a bit younger. It was if anything, even when you both lost Suguru, a thin thread of solace in the midst of the horror.

You glanced at Satoru, seeking some form of reassurance, but his gaze was fixed on the bodies, his jaw clenched tight. The weight of the recent events bore down on you both, the decisions made, the lives taken, all swirling in a chaotic maelstrom of regret and necessity. 

There was no other choice. Not when there was such little time, when there was no way you would leave this for the kids to wrap up. It was a moment where the true cost of your responsibilities became painfully clear, the price paid in blood and sacrifice. This is all that will secure the future.

Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice low and rough. "We did what we had to." he said, more to himself than to you, as if trying to convince himself of the necessity of their actions. “Don’t think too much.”

You nodded, though your heart ached with the truth of his words. "I know." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But after all this time, I thought it would be easier.”

You did think it was easier. You knew what it was like to kill human beings. The act of taking a life was not foreign to you; it had been part of your existence as a jujutsu sorcerer for as long as you could remember. The initial shock and horror of it had dulled over time, replaced by a grim acceptance of necessity. Each death was a means to an end, a way to protect the innocent, to rid the world of curses, to maintain balance. Yet, today felt different.

The bodies of the higher-ups lay sprawled around you, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. These were not faceless enemies or malevolent curses; these were people you had known, some for years. Their ambitions, their fears, their humanity—it all lay exposed in the finality of their deaths. You and Satoru had made a choice, one born out of desperation and the need for a new order, but the cost of that choice now weighed heavily on your soul.

You have always been able to justify your actions in the past. Each kill had been a step toward a greater good, a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. But this? This felt like a betrayal of the very essence of what you stood for. These were your peers, your allies, albeit flawed and corrupt. The distinction between right and wrong blurred, leaving you adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity.

Satoru's hand tightened around yours, a silent anchor in the storm of your thoughts. His presence was a reminder that you were not alone in this, that he too bore the weight of what you had done. You glanced at him, searching for some semblance of solace in his expression. His face was a mask of determination, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—betrayed a depth of sorrow that mirrored your own.

His eyes flicked to yours, a flicker of pain and understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that there would be no going back to the way things were. The choices made here would haunt you, but you also knew that you would face the future together, bound by the shared weight of your decisions and the unspoken promise of support.

“Hm, it doesn’t.”

Silence engulfs you both.

Your eyes flared downward.

A sigh passes through your lips.

"It's not in you to have liked to do this." you finally said, breaking the silence. Your voice trembled with the weight of unspoken emotions, the sorrow churning in layers unknown. “To decide the upper floors had to go.”

Satoru sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon, a faraway look in his eyes. "We had no choice," he replied, his voice devoid of its usual lightheartedness. "We have no more time to indulge in the future."

There was so much you wanted to say, so many arguments and pleas that burned on the tip of your tongue. But the words refused to come, trapped in the maelstrom of your conflicted heart. Satoru seemed to sense your turmoil, turning to face you, his piercing blue eyes searching yours.

"Just say it," he urged gently. "Tell me how you hate me for what Yuuta and I agreed to do, should I lose to Sukuna."

You met his gaze, the pain and love in your eyes reflected in his own. "I do hate you," you whispered, the confession tearing at your soul. "Because I love you too much."

Satoru's expression softened, and he stood, walking over to you. He pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. "The loss of me will pass," he murmured against your hair, his breath warm on your skin. “Hm? You will always move forward. You have to.”

You clung to him, the thought of losing him more than you could bear. "You say it as it is. I had to. Not because I wanted to.”

He laughs a little, echoes of guilt layered among it.. “But you will this time too.”

This is what you think you hated the most about Satoru. How settled he was in his ways, how stubborn he was with his plan. It was a means to an end. As long as it brought down the system, he didn’t care about what happened. As long as his students lived, he didn’t care. And yet you wondered, what he would leave you with. 

How much emptiness, how much grief he would let you settle for years and years — because he cared more about the world he wanted to build. In a way, you loved Satoru too much. You loved him so much you went against the world you had always known.

You had a dream of a normal life. Once when Kaiko and Namie were alive. Once with Shoko, Suguru and Satoru. When all you had left was Satoru, you were determined to live for him. 

But you never gave up on that dream That you would have that white picket fence life. That you would raise a family. That you would grow old with him. But you should have known. You should have known that he was too far gone for you to reach. 

Even with all the love that was between you, you should have known that love would not be enough to bring him back to life. Gojo Satoru had decided that love was a curse. And he lived by it. Geto Suguru had given it to him. 

And he had accepted it. And since that day, you knew that he would have never let it go. Yet, what right do you have to judge him for it? You felt the same, when Kaiko died. And you never looked back. 

“I loved you too much to let you just be a passerby in my life," you finally  said, your voice breaking. "I've lost too much already, Satoru. But…. but to lose you would break me."

He held you tighter, his voice steady and resolute. "You have to be strong, for me and for everyone, y’know that." he said. "They'll need you when I'm gone."

His words cut deep, but you knew he was right. The world would keep turning. The sun would keep moving forward. The march of time, the echo of life would not change. It will go on and on. Even without him. People would need you to be there, to fight for them, to protect them. But the thought of a world without him was a dark, hollow void in your life, in your heart. In your soul. More tears flowed in your eyes. 

Memories echoed in your head, as though they were just reels of your life in a picture show. You knew he could see it too, as though his six-eyes could see it as painfully as you could. As clearly as possible. Eleven years of life, motioned into small moments. Small  moments that encompassed your whole world. Because he was your world. He was your whole world. 

2011

You and Satoru spent a day at the beach, the sun high in the sky and the ocean waves crashing gently against the shore. He chased you along the sand, laughter bubbling up as you tried to escape his playful grasp. When he finally caught you, he lifted you up and spun you around, both of you dizzy with happiness.

You collapsed onto the sand together, breathless and smiling. "I wish we could stay here forever," you said, looking out at the endless horizon.

He squeezed your hand, his voice soft and sincere. "We can always come back. This place will always be here for us. We’ll bring Megumi and Tsumiki with us next time too.”

You smile back at him. “I’d like that, Satoru. More than you know.”

2013

One quiet night, you both lay on a blanket under a canopy of stars, the world around you silent and still. Satoru pointed out constellations, his voice a soothing murmur in the darkness.

"There's Orion," he said, tracing the outline with his finger. "And over there is Cassiopeia."

You nestled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Do you think we'll always have moments like this?" you asked softly.

He wrapped an arm around you, his voice filled with certainty. "Always. No matter what happens, we'll always find our way back to each other."

2014

Your New Year's together that year was magical. You stood on a rooftop, watching fireworks light up the night sky. The colors exploded in brilliant patterns, reflecting in Satoru's eyes as he pulled you close.

"Happy New Year," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

"Happy New Year," you replied, feeling a sense of hope and excitement for the future. "Let's make this year unforgettable."

He smiled, his arms wrapped securely around you. "Every year with you will be unforgettable."

“You guys make me sick.” Megumi whispered under his breath, taking a bite out of his cake. 

“Megumi, don’t say that! They’re in love.” Tsumiki says, smiling at the sight of you and Satoru.

You both could only laugh.

2017

In the quiet of the night, you and Satoru sat together, your hearts heavy with grief for the loss of Suguru. The weight of his absence hung in the air like a tangible presence, a reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of duty and honor.

Satoru's normally bright eyes were dimmed with sorrow, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the burden he carried. You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering what little comfort you could in the face of such profound loss.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I had to do it. I had no choice."

You squeezed his hand, offering silent understanding and support. "I know," you replied softly. "It wasn't easy, but you did what had to be done. Suguru understood that."

Tears welled in Satoru's eyes as he leaned into your embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of your presence. In that moment of shared sorrow, you held each other close, finding strength in your love and the knowledge that you would always be there for one another, no matter what trials lay ahead.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a sorrowful intensity. "Remember all the things we wanted?" he began softly. "Now all our memories, they're haunted."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words resonate deeply within you. "We were always meant to say goodbye." you whispered, your voice trembling. 

"Even with our fists held high, it never would have worked out right," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were never meant for do or die, darling."

A sob escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "I didn't want us to burn out, Satoru" you said, your voice breaking. "I didn't come here to hurt you now. I don't want to hurt you. But now I.... I can't stop."

Satoru gently cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. "I want you to know that it doesn't matter where we take this road. Someone's gotta go."

His words cut through you like a knife, the finality of it all hitting you hard. "It doesn't have to be you."

He smiles shaking his head.

"And I want you to know you couldn't have loved me better," he said, his voice full of love and regret. "But I want you to move on, so I'm already gone."

“How do I do it?” You sobbed to him. “Without you?”

“You can.” He presses a kiss against your nose. “And you will.”

“You were meant to grow old with me.” You croaked to him.

"But now you’ll do it for me. For the both of us, hm? Live a long life." Satoru shakes his head, his voice gentle but firm. "Keep Gakuganji in check. You know that old geezer can’t be trusted to keep the straight line.”

“Satoru….”

“Keep the jujutsu world at peace on my behalf.”

You shake your head against his chest.

You hit your arms against his figure.

Infinity was always down when it was you.

“Live long so that you have stories to tell me."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "I hate you!" you repeated, the words laced with anguish. “I really really hate you.”

He laughed sadly, a bittersweet sound that echoed in the empty space around you. "I know, darling." he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I know."

In that moment, you both understood the depth of your bond, the unspoken promises and the inevitable heartache that lay ahead. But for now, you held onto each other, finding solace in the shared pain and the love that had brought you together.

When you let him go that day, you knew.

You would have to wait until you were gray.

You looked at Shoko and you shook your head.

Your eyes were too red to even look one last time..

As far as you were concerned, he was already gone.

[wonusite]

Sweet Dreams

❝ You dream about a beautiful man nearly every time you fall asleep. After getting to know him and everything about him, you see him outside of your dreams—in a museum painting. ❞

PAIRING: joshua hong x female reader

GENRE: vampire au, reincarnation au, angst, smut

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: vampire!joshua, human!reader, lucid dreaming, reincarnation, so much yearning, mentions of death, joshua is a brooding mess, protective!minghao, unprotected sex, blood play, biting, creampies

A/N: this has been long overdue, and i hope you guys like it! loosely based off this ask. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Fate.

A simple word that holds more power and venerability than any ruler of the middle kingdom. It’s a mystifying concept that follows no rules and simply is; something that can actively be changed but not avoided. Joshua learns this late in his long life—a derailment of his own making. The lesson comes to him in the form of a fiery witch running from her death.

As a creature that’s lived in solitude since he became immortal, it’s not in his nature to be helpful. It’s why he has no interest in saving the witch from the demons that are hunting her. This, however, doesn’t stop the insolent little witch from forcing herself into his sanctuary. He fights her on it, baring his fangs while saying the most despicable and bone chilling threats to her. The young witch isn’t fazed and makes it clear that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

In the end, he concedes. Not because she’s powerful enough to make him obey her, but because she reminds Joshua of himself when he was desperately clinging to his own survival. Perhaps that’s the reason he becomes inexplicably drawn to her. Josh almost feels like she’s bewitched him, and the most unusual part of it all is that he doesn’t care even if that is the case.

He seeks her out after he helps her despite knowing that it can’t possibly end well. Their kinds don’t mix, and it’s doubtful that two abominations can share something as sacred and beautiful as love. Fate has never allowed it before, but Joshua is foolish enough to try to defy destiny.

Courting the witch isn’t easy. Then again, anything that involves her never is. The witch is a firm believer in being reverent to the same fates that gave her the powers she wields while Joshua couldn’t care less about the fates that turned him into a monstrosity. This creates a disconnect between them because the witch is firm that she could never love such an irreverent creature.

This hardly deters him. Joshua is relentless in his chase, and after the longest decade of his life he’s finally able to win the witch’s thorn-covered heart.

And so, even just for the briefest moments, they’re allowed to create their own destiny with each other.

Loving someone, loving her, is the most addicting feeling he’s ever felt. The love he feels for the witch surpasses even that of his first love who he was convinced he’d never forget. Being with her is the happiest Joshua has ever felt, and he naively thinks it’ll last forever.

This all comes to an abrupt end when the witch finds out that it’s his fault the demons eradicated her coven. Yes, it was before Josh had met and fell in love with her, but that doesn’t change anything. It was still him who had put her on the brink of death and gotten her family and friends killed. Twisted as it is, he doesn’t regret his actions nor would he change them if he had an opportunity to do so.

And so, the love of his life becomes his most dangerous enemy.

It hurts. More so because she discards him and his love like they never meant anything in the first place.

The witch is cutthroat in her hatred. It’s not long before the children of the moon find his sanctuary and nearly send him to meet his maker. Her hexes nearly incapacitate him, but even all her acts of revenge aren’t enough to satiate the vengeance she seeks.

Slowly, the love they grew to feel for each other becomes wilted and corroded beyond repair.

Years pass, yet the feud never dies. Joshua is almost impressed by her determination to destroy him the same way he almost destroyed her.

Hatred has replaced love by now, and it’s almost impossible for him to believe he ever loved the witch in the first place. A decade passes, then two and three until eventually an entire century goes by with the two of them feeling this burning loathing. Their detrimental feelings and behavior push both Joshua and the witch to make a vow never to love again.

But fate has other plans for them.

As time goes on, they find themselves backed into a corner—together this time. Death has returned for them in the form of faes. Neither one of them is willing to relent and give up their land to the insignificant creatures who claimed to have it first. And so, they help each other one last time.

Fighting against inferior creatures together has always been like dancing for them, and it’s easy to fall back into a love language they created. By the end of their battle, they come out victorious. The two are grateful to each other even if neither of them say it outright.

Joshua feels a familiar ache in his chest the longer he stares at the witch who was once his. Feelings he thought were long gone rush back to the surface as if they’d never left in the first place. Perhaps they never really had. He’s never been one to go against his own desires, and so he reaches out for her, craving her skin against his if even for the last time.

Their embrace is sweet, but the kiss that follows is full of passion, longing, and ardent love that seems to have been buried deep within them the entire time. It’s almost like a dream to have her like this again, and now Joshua doesn’t plan on letting her go.

But once again, fate doesn’t leave him with a choice.

Humans grow more wary of the creatures they share the world with. Many go into hiding, but Joshua makes the mistake of thinking he can blend in with his prey. A hunter of his kind has found him, and as a vampire with no coven, he’s left vulnerable. It’s even worse when the hunter and his clan discover his lover and what she is.

It was a peaceful night when they’re attacked. Escaping death doesn’t seem possible, but as always the witch assured him that she has a solution. His love makes him a promise as she casts a spell that will hide his presence. A promise that she’ll find him and reunite with him in every lifetime. He’s confused by her words, but has no time to question her as the spell takes over and dulls his senses until he’s unconscious.

If he’d known his love was going to sacrifice herself for him, he would’ve taken a million wooden stakes to the heart rather than continue existing in a world without her.

Centuries later, he’s never been able to forget her or what her presence had done to his life. Joshua is left alone in a world that now seems intolerable without his witch in it. Cruel irony reminds him that the solitude he once basked in feels suffocating now. All he’s left with is a gaping hole that constantly reminds him of how he lost his one true love.

Joshua eventually joins a coven, but they offer little comfort. At this point in his immortality, he only sticks around them out of habit. It’s not that he isn’t fond of them—he is, most of the time—but it’s not the same as having his lover by his side.

After going through the eternal test of time, Joshua still yearns for her; craves her as much as the blood that he feeds on. It’s the reason he’s spent the last two centuries looking for the one person who filled his heart with so much love.

And he’ll stop at nothing until he finds her.

The first time it happened, you thought it was nothing more than a dream.

Which it was, but it felt different—it was different. Never in your life had you dreamt such a beautiful dream that felt so real and almost indistinguishable from reality. The most memorable part was the euphoric feeling it evoked from you.

Well, that’s not exactly right. There was one single element that had left you unable to forget the lucid dream. One that you believed was responsible for your subconscious forcing you into those dreams every time you fell asleep.

Unhealthy as it is, you chase the lucid dreams. Every night, you look forward to your sleep with the hope of once again being wrapped up in one of those lovely dreams. Any free time you’re left with is used to sleep just so you can escape to the ethereal dreamland your mind has created.

The dreams have ensnared you and make you crave and long for them as if you’re under some sort of spell. It’s become a bit of an obsession because even when you’re with other people it’s all you can think about. And yet you’re unable to let go of your obsession in spite of how unhealthy and irrational it is.

The scene in front of you is familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen the old castle that looks like it’s straight out of the medieval times. You step forward, feet moving on their own as you walk past the large doors. Servants run along with their head down, and you’re not sure why it makes you feel satisfied that they seem to be terrified of you.

“Y/N.”

You turn at the sound of a mellifluous voice. Once again, it’s the beautiful man who’d been visiting you in your dreams.

“Shua.” You call affectionately, running to him as he opens his arms for you.

As always, he catches you easily. You wrap your arms around his neck, softly giggling into his hair as he spins you around. “Where have you brought me this time?”

“This is where I live.” He tells you as you pull back to look at his face. “Do you like it?”

You look around again. The feeling of familiarity doesn’t go away as you inspect your surroundings. Joshua gently puts you down, but doesn’t release you from his embrace. His stare is gentle and observant, curious on how you’re going to react to what he’s showing you.

“This is really where you live?” You wonder in awe. “Are you a king or something?”

His pretty laugh makes you look back at him. Your heart leaps up into your throat when you see the fond look he’s giving you. It’s been months of being on the receiving end of his affectionate stare, but you’re not sure you’ll stop feeling bashful when you catch it.

“I am not. Does that disappoint you?”

You shake your head. “No, but it does make me wonder how old you actually are. Older than Dracula?”

All Josh can do is laugh and laugh. You’re not sure what he finds so funny, but as usual you do not get the chance to ask. The familiar pressure on your bones gets more intense with every passing moment. It’s how you know you’re on the verge of being pulled out of your blissful dream. You can’t even open your mouth to say goodbye because you’re abruptly yanked out of your subconscious before you can.

It’s always hard to keep going on with your day normally after you dream about Josh. You can never really function afterwards, not how you usually would.

“—even listening to me?”

You snap back into reality, realizing that Jeonghan has been talking to you this entire time. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and gives you an accusatory look that confuses you. His eyebrows are raised as he leans forward. “I was saying that Soonyoung thinks you’re fucking someone.”

“What?” You splutter, suddenly feeling extremely flustered.

“I told him there’s no way that’s true because lately you’ve been holed up in your room sleeping every chance you get!”

You manage to not choke on your spit and give your friend an indignant glare. “Both you and Soonyoung need to worry about your own sex lives.”

The gleam in his eye changes, and you realize too late that you’ve made a mistake. “Wait. Are you actually fucking someone?”

“You know I’m not!” You hiss, starting to feel embarrassed.

Clearly, Jeonghan doesn’t believe you. He stares at you before something seems to click in his head. Your nervous stare and angry pout are telltale signs of deceit. His jaw drops a bit as he lets out an affronted squeak.

“No way. That’s why you’ve been in such a good mood lately!” He says with a conniving laugh. “And here I thought that night cream I recommended is the reason you’ve been glowing lately.”

Maybe the most embarrassing part about this is not that he’s trying to discuss your sex life (or lack thereof) at the local cafe and not wine night, but the fact that this alleged glow has nothing to do with a man—not a real one, anyway. But Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that.

“You would’ve heard me if that was true.”

Jeonghan’s ears slowly turn red as he pouts in disappointment. He really hoped you’d managed to break your three month long dry spell, and he also wanted to be right. It’s almost suspicious that he isn’t because he usually is. You’ve been a little too smiley lately like you have some hidden lover.

“If you say so.” He mutters bitterly.

This would be the point where you’d usually panic since Yoon Jeonghan can never be one to let anything go if he feels like he’s right. You feel at ease though because there’s no way he could ever find out about Josh.

“By the way… you’re definitely going to be gone this weekend, right?” Jeonghan suddenly asks in a tone you recognize all too well.

You try not to gag as you nod. “Yes. I already bought the tickets and Hao is in the city setting up his apartment so I have a place to stay while I’m up there.”

Jeonghan smirks victoriously. He nods, not even trying to hide how pleased he is as he pulls out his phone. Suddenly, he’s very grateful that you and Minghao have such an interest in history. When he’s done sending a message you would definitely call sleazy, he just laughs at your disgusted expression.

“Don’t give me that look. Not all of us have to practice celibacy like you.”

“Whatever.” You scoff with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep it in your room this time. I better not find any stains on the couch when I get back.”

He only laughs at you with a promise that you can’t think of as sincere.

“Are you playing with your food again?”

The voice sounds distant as Joshua is gently pulled out of the trance he’s used to being in now. He slow blinks, remnants of the beautiful vision still clear in his mind. Junhui’s words don’t bother him like they usually would’ve. Not when he finally feels alive for the first time in centuries. Still, he can’t control the annoyance he feels that his brother thinks this subject is something that can be joked and talked about lightly.

“You and Soonyoung are the only heathens who play with food.” Joshua’s tone is clipped, bordering on that murderous one that pops up any time someone mentions his latest obsession.

Junhui only laughs, head cocking to the side in interest. “I’m curious. Did you really find the grand love of your life, or is it just some girl who happens to look like her?”

“His obsession wouldn’t be so profound if it was a girl who merely looks like her.” Comes a voice from the top of the grand stairs.

They look up to see the oldest and the youngest of the coven coming down the stairs. Soonyoung doesn’t bother to hide his amused smirk while Minghao wears the same impassive expression he had when Joshua met him. His lack of reaction is the reason why he’s often the voice of reason in the coven, but his callous way of speaking never offers any comfort.

“Our brother is looking for the soul of his beloved—a soul that cannot be replicated nor imitated. Even if he’s to find her doppelgänger, he will not love her completely or sincerely.” Minghao says he takes a seat near the burning fireplace.

Soonyoung sits on the other end of the couch before he raises an eyebrow at Josh. He lets out a mocking snicker. “It’s giving stalker.”

As the most recently turned, their youngest has developed a proclivity for imitating the current slang. Joshua understands it (to an extent), but finds it folly. Then again, he doesn’t think its ridiculous when that person uses it.

But of course, that’s different.

Josh doesn’t bother to sneer at him for his snide remark. As a creature who hasn’t found a mate in the entire century he’s been alive, Soonyoung couldn’t possibly understand the ardent need to be close to the person chosen to be your mate.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Junhui points out, sounding almost bored now. “Have you found her? Your one true love?”

When Joshua smiles, it’s so pretty that even Minghao can’t help but stare. “I have.”

“Are you going to turn her?”

Soonyoung’s question hangs in the air, and as much as Josh wants to hiss at him to mind his own business, he sees how Junhui and Minghao are also looking at him. Turning someone isn’t as simple as it used to be—if it could ever be considered simple. Now there were too many factors and too many risks involved.

“I have to find her physically before I can think of anything else.” Josh sighs deeply.

“Brother.” Minghao says in his serious tone. “Think of your next moves carefully. You’ve found her reincarnation, but she doesn’t remember you, and there’s no guarantee that she ever will.”

For once, the younger ones don’t say anything teasing or goading. They look at him just as solemnly as Minghao is. It’s a harsh truth that Joshua had acknowledged long ago but not fully accepted.

His love doesn’t remember him. This is a fact.

But even if she never does, he doesn’t plan on letting her go. Not again.

“You’re unhappy.”

The observation is astute, and even though it’s been months, you can’t get used to how easily Josh can see through you. It shouldn’t have the affect on you that it does, but there’s just something about having someone know you so well that makes your heart jerk with emotion. Part of you feels insane for feeling this way because this man is just a figment of your imagination created by your subconscious.

Josh smiles placatingly when he sees your pout. He’s sure that you’re not aware that you do it, which makes it all the more cute in his eyes.

“Work hasn’t been great lately.” You say honestly, only hesitating a moment before telling him the rest. “Also... Jeonghan set me up on this blind date. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, but I haven’t been on a date in forever.”

You’re not sure why it feels like you’re saying something absolutely heart wrenching. If you had to describe it, it’s almost like you’re admitting to cheating or something similar which is fucking insane since Josh isn’t your boyfriend—or real, for that matter.

There’s a shift in his kind eyes. A cold rage settles in the depths of his dark irises that makes you feel like you’re staring an evil creature in the face. Before you can ponder it, the expression is is gone so fast that you almost think you imagined it.

“You don’t have to go.” He finally says, and you wonder if he actually sounds like he’s pleading or if it’s just something your subconscious is hoping for.

A teasing smile stretches your lips. “Yeah? Should I just stay here with you, instead?”

Joshua wishes he could say yes. Stay with me and never leave my side again. The words are on the tip of his tongue, and even though he’s dying to say them, he knows he shouldn’t. In this lifetime and your previous one, he had to be patient when courting you. Clearly some things never changed.

“Don’t look so excited.” You joke when you see him hesitate.

His laugh is pretty and soft. You’re not sure why the sound comforts you in a way that almost feels familiar. As if that’s the one sound that could take away any horrible feeling you’ve ever experienced. The longer you listen to the dulcet sound, the more it makes your heart ache for a reason you can’t understand. It’s a type of yearning that feels deeper than the normalcy of seeing him every day.

“I wish you weren’t a dream.”

Joshua’s laughter dies down and the smile slips off his face at hearing your words. You almost regret saying them, but it’s too late to take them back. Not that you would since they’re the absolute truth. He knows you better than most of your friends do, and it’s hard not to feel this intense affection for him. The crazy part of it all is that you can literally feel how much he adores you too.

“Maybe you’re my dream.” Josh’s smile is full of longing and sadness.

Before you can respond, you’re abruptly pulled out of the dream by the blaring sound of a car horn. You startle awake, bleary vision belatedly registering that you’re now in the city. Minghao looks at you with wide eyes, a startled laugh slipping past his lips. “Are you okay?”

You nod wearily, taking a moment to shake of the intense emotions your dream had left you with. It’s clear that Minghao doesn’t fully believe you, but he doesn’t press the subject and keeps driving toward museum.

Being at the museum doesn’t help you as much as you hope. The artifacts and paintings are intriguing, but your irritating mind only keeps associating everything with Josh. He’s always talked like someone from another time so looking at ancient items and old paintings naturally makes you keep picturing his face.

“For someone who kept begging me to clear my schedule so we could come here, you don’t look very excited.”

You give Minghao a guilty look because you know how busy he is. “Sorry. I’m just kind of distracted.”

“And why is that?”

It’s not that you don’t trust Minghao. You do, but you can’t tell him that you’re infatuated with a man who shows up in your dreams.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your friend raises an eyebrow at you. As usual Minghao sees right through your half-truth. “You’ve been having nightmares?”

“Not exactly.” You say. The resolve to keep your secret quickly dissolved when Minghao gives you a look that somehow always compels you to do what he wants. “I can’t sleep because I keep dreaming of a guy.”

“A guy?” Minghao raises his eyebrows in a way that reminds you of Jeonghan.

“It’s not like that.” You say, skin heating up in embarrassment. “I don’t even think he’s real. He just keeps appearing in my dreams, and I feel crazy every time I think about him.”

Minghao doesn’t laugh or tell you you’re crazy. Instead he looks at you with a sharpened gaze that looks like it holds a certain amount of concern and something else you can’t discern. If his heart was capable of beating, his heart rate would’ve spiked at the information you told him.

You’re vague in your description (which was impressive because his gift is powerful enough to get people to admit to murder), but it’s enough to have his mind reeling. Is it possible that you’d fallen into the clutches of an incubus? Minghao isn’t overly fond of humans, but you’re different. He can’t let you become the prey of such a lascivious creature.

“I have some tea that’s good for sleeping." He says as normally as he can as you two walk along the museum. “When we get back to my place, I’ll give you some.”

You nod silently, not entirely sure if his teas will help with your lucid dreaming. Even if they did, it’s not like you want to stop seeing this imaginary man that makes you feel more loved than you ever had. But there’s a part of you that knows you can’t keep sleeping with the hopes of seeing Josh again.

The inner turmoil you’re feeling is interrupted when Minghao pulls you to the section he’d been dying to see from the beginning. His laughter immediately makes you come back down to earth. It’s not like your friend never laughs, but this one is full and louder than you’ve ever heard it. You’re not sure why he finds the painting of a duke so funny. Just as you’re about to question him, you see the painting and feel the world around you come to a stop.

It feels like your heart stopped beating and dropped down to your stomach. Your usually quiet mind is reeling, trying to fathom what you’re seeing. There’s no way.

The painting is of a man, but not just any man.

It’s Josh.

Your Josh.

You keep blinking as if another face will appear in the very old painting. If you felt crazy before, the feeling worsens the longer you stare at the oils that form the face you’ve come to memorize and love. The description of the painting says the man born in 1714 was a famous duke notorious for starting a rebellion against the crown.

“So this is the only painting of the Hong Jisoo?” Your friend cackles, but you’re not sure what’s so funny.

It’s good that he’s so distracted by whatever it is he finds so funny because you’re about two seconds away from breaking down. How is it possible that some duke from centuries ago was appearing in your dreams? Is it possible that you’d somehow seen his image before and projected it into your dreams? You don’t remember even reading about him, and it only makes you feel more crazy.

Back at Minghao’s luxury apartment, you can’t stop thinking about that stupid painting of Hong Jisoo. How is it possible for you to dream about a person that was alive centuries ago? It doesn’t make sense, and the more you think about it, the more freaked out you feel.

“Here.” Hao says as he hands you a warm mug of tea. “Drink it to see if it helps. I’ll give you some to take home if you like it.”

You thank him, really hoping this puts an end to your unhealthy dreams.

“It’s not working!” Josh growls angrily. “There’s something blocking me from seeing her. I’m sure of it.”

Soonyoung and Junhui roll their eyes. Josh has been complaining about not being able to transcend into his true love’s subconscious for the last three hours, and it’s starting to drive them insane. It’s not that they’re not sympathetic, but it was quite literally the only thing the older vampire could talk about. Not to mention the fact that after months of visiting his mate every day, he did nothing to figure out where she was—a total waste in their opinion.

Before Josh can keep repeating the same frustrated things he’s been griping about all morning, they hear the door open and the familiar sound of boots clacking against the marble floor.

“Minghao!” Soonyoung cries when the oldest of the coven walks into the living room. “Finally, you’re back! Jisoo hasn’t stopped whining about his mate since you left! You need to put a stop to him!”

Minghao sets down his suitcases with an exhausted sigh. “What’s going on?”

“He claims there’s a barrier preventing him from entering his mate’s subconscious.” Junhui explains, sending a skeptical look Joshua’s way. “Which is impossible because a mere human isn’t capable of blocking his gift.”

While that is true, there are certain things humans have done for centuries to ward off creatures of the night. However, it is strange that there’s a sudden block to his mate’s subconscious after being left vulnerable for so many months.

“Perhaps your mate has realized that you’re a nefarious creature and not just a figment of her imagination.” Minghao muses as he goes to sit at his usual place by the fire. “If that’s the case, she may have sought out a witch to block her psyche from unsavory visitors.”

The dark look Josh sends his way is amusing to the rest. Maybe it’s cruel to disregard the anguish his brother clearly feels, but being empathetic has never been one of Minghao’s character traits. Even so, some of the humanity he once had still lingers within him.

“However, if you truly wish to find her I can contact Jihoon—”

“No.” Josh snaps immediately. The growl in his voice is menacing as his eyes darken. “I’ll find her on my own.”

The silence that follows is tense until Soonyoung breaks it by insisting on seeing pictures from Minghao’s trip. As always, he obliges to the youngest’s request, tossing his phone over without taking his eyes off Josh.

“If that were possible you would have already found her.”

It’s a frustrating truth. He hadn’t been able to figure out anything that would help him find you because he didn’t want to scare you off. Now he regrets playing the part of a gentleman because it feels like he’s lost you all over again.

“Is this the human you’re always talking about?”

Usually, Josh doesn’t take any interest in humans aside from his meals, but the way Minghao’s sharp gaze switches to an almost fond one intrigues him enough to look at the screen Soonyoung is holding out toward them.

It’s like his heartbeat comes back to life when he sees a video of a beautiful girl staring at one of his old swords.

“Yes. That’s—”

“Y/N.”

Minghao looks at Josh in surprise. He’s incredulous, but it’s soon replaced by horror when he realizes why his brother is looking at the phone with a predatory gaze.

“You…” Minghao’s icy tone makes the younger ones still. They recognize the murderous intent behind that tone instantly. “You’re the one who’s been invading her dreams.”

Josh snarls at his oldest friend. “You’re the one responsible for the barrier.”

It’s like watching two animals raising their hackles at one another. Except both of them are capable of destroying each other and everything around them without caring.

Junhui is quick to step in, holding a firm hand to Minghao’s chest. “She’s his mate.”

It’s meant to make him see reason, but all it does is anger Minghao.

“A mate that he betrayed time and time again!” His words make them all flinch. “You’re the reason those hunters found her and burned her alive!”

Never has a silence so thick and tense surrounded them before. It’s a low blow to bring up Josh’s greatest pain in such a way, but Minghao is beyond seeing reason at this point.

“Both of you need to calm down.” Soonyoung says as he stands in the middle.

“Do you have feelings for her?” Josh demands, not understanding why the person who had helped him search for his mate’s reincarnation for centuries was suddenly acting this way.

“She’s a pure soul.” Minghao says, sounding a little defeated. “One that doesn’t deserve to become a monster like us.”

It’s tense and silent again, but this time the air feels different. All four of them knew how painful and awful it was to turn. Back then, they had been the unlucky ones to survive an attack when they were meant to be someone’s food. Minghao wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you.

“Let her decide.” Soonyoung breaks the silence, being reasonable for the first time in a long time. He looks to Josh, gaze as serious as ever. “If you really love her, tell her the truth and let her decide what to do.”

Minghao has always been an enigma. He’s private to the point where you sometimes feel like you don’t know him at all. It’s why you’re so surprised when he invites you over to his main house which is basically synonymous with prohibited. He never invites anyone there, not even Jeonghan who’s known him longer than you have.

Your friend’s home is expectedly opulent and beautiful, but there’s also this ominous air surrounding it. Minghao remains silent as he leads you to the entrance. His somber attitude isn’t exactly uncharacteristic. He’s naturally quiet and serious, but right now he almost seems angry. You can tell his mind is far away, light years away even.

Before you can think to question him, he leads you to the living room and sits you down on one of the couches. His cold hands don’t move from your shoulders even after you’re seated. You look up at him in curiosity because he seems to be contemplating something.

“Don’t be angry with me.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and you have to wonder what he’s done for him to plead with you like this. (Xu Minghao does not beg.)

Hands fall from your shoulders as Minghao side steps out of the way. Everything goes in slow motion from then on. He’s stepped out of the way to reveal a man who you recognize very well. Your heart jumps and starts to beat erratically as you take in his ethereal features.

What’s happening feels like a more intense version of what happened at the museum. Minghao’s friend(?) looks exactly like Josh. He even looks at you like Josh does.

“Y/N.”

The organ in your chest throbs at the sound because it’s so soft and pretty, just like it is in your dreams. He sounds so similar to Josh that you feel insane for wanting to run into this man’s arms like you always do with Josh in your dreams.

Your mind is a beat behind, and it’s only after this stranger called your name that you realize Minghao had apologized to you before he appeared. When you look over to your friend, he’s observing you carefully in a way you can’t understand.

“What’s going on? What is this?” You ask, feeling like you’ve been set up.

There’s a thick silence, and just when you contemplate on getting up to leave, the unknown guy falls to his knees in front of you.

“Please forgive me.”

Your eyes practically pop out of your head at the unsolicited apology. “I– What?”

The silence is uncomfortable, and you can only look back to Minghao for an explanation.

“You’ve seen Jisoo before—in your dreams.” Minghao says slowly as if it pains him to tell you.

Jisoo?

“When you told me that a man kept reappearing in your dreams, I thought you were being preyed on by an incubus.” Minghao chuckles bitterly. “But I was a fool not to see that the truth was much worse.”

“Incubus?” You whisper incredulously. “You mean those demons that fuck people while they’re asleep?”

Neither men react to your crude words. They’re looking at you solemnly as if Minghao didn’t just say something completely insane. None of it makes sense nor does it provide you with the explanation you demanded.

“You can’t be serious! Incubuses—“

“Incubi.” Minghao corrects you. He regrets it as soon as he sees the dark look on your face.

“—don’t exist.” You finish through gritted teeth.

“They’re not the only demons running rampant on this earth.” Minghao says as he shares a look with the man who is still kneeling in front of you. “Just look at the monster in front of you and you’ll know what I’m saying is true.”

This Jisoo guy looks nothing like a monster. Not even as he’s giving your friend the most withering glare you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t give me that look. I brought her here so she can know the truth.”

At this point, you don’t know if they’re friends or enemies with the way they’re glowering at each other. And you still don’t know what truth they’re talking about, either.

“Jisoo has been trying to find you for centuries.” Minghao finally says, eyes softening just the tiniest bit when he looks back at you.

You don’t say anything because it all sounds like some crazy lie. Minghao isn’t the type to pull pranks, but there’s no other logical explanation for what’s happening. And yet, it also isn’t possible that he could know what the man from your dreams looked like and somehow find someone who looks exactly like him for his prank.

“We’re vampires.” Jisoo says, voice soft and comforting. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

Your words come out before you can stop them. It’s not what you meant to say (not right away, anyway), but you don’t try to backtrack. On the off chance that they’re not pulling some elaborate prank, you need to know that you’re not crazy for kind of believing what they’re saying.

Minghao and Jisoo are looking at you with wide eyes, but the challenging look on your face doesn’t waver. They both know you enough to realize you aren’t going to believe them until they prove that they’re not lying.

Jisoo grins, but it seems bitter in a way. “Okay. Just… don’t be scared.”

You raise an eyebrow when his smile stretches further. It’s not until you see four of his teeth elongating into literal fangs that you feel your pulse start to race. His eyes have darkened into an inhuman shade of black that reminds you of a demon. Now you understood what Minghao meant when he called Jisoo a monster.

But that also means…

In a panic, you look to your friend. Much to your horror, he too is bearing those monstrous characteristics now. Dark eyes and fangs that make them look like the monsters they claim to be. It feels like you’re in one of your lucid dreams, and in the back of your mind you hope that’s what this is.

“Did you bring me here to kill me?” You’re surprised that your voice comes out as calm as it does, and even though you’re terrified, you can’t react how you know you should be.

“We would never hurt you.” Jisoo says, features slowly reverting back to normal. “No matter what, I won’t let anyone or anything bring you harm.”

It’s crazy that he’s promising you this with what feels like genuine sincerity, and it’s even crazier that it makes your chest warm with affection. You press your lips together, trying to make sense of how any of this is actually possible.

“You’re the reincarnation of Jisoo’s true love.” Minghao breaks the heavy silence. “He’s been searching for your soul since your untimely death.”

“That’s why you came into my dreams.” You whisper, not sure how to feel about this alleged truth.

“Yes.” Jisoo says, voice soft as ever. “I called myself Josh since it’s a modern name. You can still call me that if you wish.”

You stay silent, trying to deal with the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling without revealing any on your face. It’s hard, but you manage as you look back at your friend. “And you knew about this the entire time?”

“I didn’t know he’d been invading your dreams.” Minghao says honestly. “If I had—”

Minghao cuts his sentence short, and you can tell he’s trying his best to keep his emotions in check. It’s clear that he doesn’t like the idea of you being the reincarnation of Josh’s true love. You don’t understand why he brought you to meet him if that’s the case.

“Minghao.” Josh’s tone takes a threatening tone that you never thought him capable of emitting.

“Tell her.” Minghao says, clearly unfazed by Joshua’s sudden malicious attitude. “She has a right to know the truth before you think you can spend the rest of eternity with her.”

It’s silent for a moment before you see Josh’s shoulders slump. He looks slightly defeated and nervous. Seeing him in distress makes you uncomfortable, and you have to wonder if these are your actual feelings or something beyond your control.

“I first met you five years after I was first turned.” He starts, eyes begging for understanding. “You were running from a clan of demons who murdered your coven.”

The air is tense. You can feel your heart start to throb with hurt that you can’t place. A familiar burning sensation starts to poke at the back of your eyes, but you can’t understand why. “You saved me?”

Minghao clears his throat, eyes threatening.

“Unwillingly.” He admits, head hanging a little lower. “I was content in my solitude, and helping a witch didn’t sound appealing to me.”

“He also didn’t want to help a witch that belonged to the coven he helped exterminate.”

Minghao’s blunt statement makes your blood run cold. There’s a strange feeling that manifests itself in your chest. It’s an odd mixture of resentment, anger, and heartbreak. The feelings are familiar yet foreign. You feel the tears fall from your eyes before you can even think to hold them back. It’s all new information, but something in your bones recognizes the hurt and devastation.

“You killed my family.” The words aren’t yours, but in a strange way it feels like they are. “You almost killed me.”

“It was before I fell in love with you.” Josh sounds defeated. “Back then I was only concerned with my own survival, and I was a fool to let it get in the way of my love for you.”

Again, the air becomes tense. It makes Minghao almost regret doing this, but you ultimately have to know the truth. All of it.

“Tell her how you got her killed.”

More tears keep spilling from your eyes, and you can’t fathom the fact that they don’t feel like yours. A gentle hand wipes them away. Through blurry vision you can see Josh looking pained as he gently cradles your face in his large hand.

“I refused to go into hiding after the humans started to become more wary of our existence. Because of that, you and I were attacked by a group of hunters.” Josh feels a pain he hasn’t in centuries just talking about this to you of all people. “You protected me with your magic. I don’t know why you saved a wicked creature like me instead of yourself, but I really wish you hadn’t.”

The tears have stopped now, but Josh’s thumb is still gently caressing your face. His touch is cold yet comforting. You let out a shaky sigh, not sure what to do with all the information you’ve been given.

“This is why Minghao feels that I don’t deserve you, and maybe he’s right. But I’ve always been a selfish creature which is why I can’t give you up. Not in this lifetime or any other.”

Josh says it tenderly, but somehow you feel like you’ve become his prey.

Sometimes you wonder if letting Josh get so close to you is a mistake. Minghao seems to think it is even if he doesn’t tell you outright. Still, at least he’s supportive of your decision (as much as he can be, anyway). In spite of the fact that you now know the man of your dreams is a dangerous predator, you don’t feel unsafe when you’re with him. There’s also the fact that you can literally see the love he has for you every time you look at him.

Giving into him is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It feels natural and right, especially since he’s so sweet to you. You feel yourself fall harder every time you’re with him. He knows you better than anyone and treats you like you’re his everything.

Your relationship feels completely surreal and fast paced, but in an odd way it also feels like it’s not fast enough. The feeling has something to do with your past life you’re sure. After all, Josh had been waiting centuries for you to reincarnate.

He must’ve been so lonely.

You suck in a quiet breath as the thought comes to you, one that feels like it came from deep in your subconscious and is not entirely yours. Josh’s eyes snap open at the sound. He’s looking straight at you from where he has his head in your lap.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Unlike Minghao, Josh doesn’t have the power of coercion, but you’re still unable to lie to him. (Unwilling is a better term, but, details.)

“Did you really not have another lover after I died?” Your question isn’t accusatory, and part of you hopes he says yes. “Like you never even hooked up with someone else in three centuries?”

Josh’s airy laughter makes your chest warm. He brings your intertwined hands to his lips, placing a tender kiss on the back of yours. “If you do not believe me, I shall bring Minghao and have him use his gift on me.”

He’s teasing you, but you also know he’s dead serious. It shouldn’t thrill you so much that he’s willing to do just about anything for you—even subject himself to Minghao who still harbors a bit of a grudge towards him.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just…” You let out a quiet sigh. “You must’ve been really lonely.”

The way you look heartbroken and guilty isn’t satisfying, but it is alleviating somehow. You truly haven’t changed. The beautiful, kind soul he fell in love with remains intact, and he can’t be more grateful for that.

“At first I was. Then I met Minghao and joined his coven. They made it more bearable.”

You bring the hand that’s not attached to Josh’s to his head and run a gentle hand through his hair. “It must’ve been hard.”

Josh only offers you a hum. He can’t deny that it was, but he also doesn’t want to keep making you feel bad with all the details. That would have to be for another time.

“How many dreams did you invade before you finally found me?” You suddenly ask, wondering just how many psyches he had to go through over the course of 300 years.

“None.” His smile is a little bitter. “I’m not a incubus, so I can only enter your subconscious.”

The confused look on your face makes him let out a quiet laugh. It’s so innocent that it’s hilarious. Especially because you don’t remember that the restriction to his gift was your doing.

“Every time I tried to use my gift, I couldn’t. That’s how I knew you hadn’t been reincarnated yet. As soon as you were born I was able to tell, but I still couldn’t get into your psyche until you were ready to let me in—this is all curtesy of you, of course.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” He laughs. “Because I can’t dream, you bestowed this gift on me so I would be able to experience a dreamlike state again. Since you didn’t want the bloodthirsty heathen that I was back then to invade the minds of unsuspecting humans, you put all these limitations on my gift.”

His laugh is cute as he reminisces. It makes you smile too until you think of something.

The other day, Josh had mentioned he used to feed off of you in his past life because it tasted different and apparently it was like a kink for both of you. It freaked you out at first, but lately you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Honestly, the more the image plagued your mind, the harder it was not to feel turned on by it. You wonder if it would hurt and if you would like the hurt.

“Do you want to feed on me?”

If Josh’s heart was capable of beating, he has no doubt it would’ve been harshly pounding against his rib cage. He slowly gets up, feeling his cock throb and his throat itch.

“Darling—”

“You’ve never done it, and I was wondering if it was something you want to do.”

Of course he wanted to do it. Your scent is mouthwatering, and he just knows you taste divine. Up until now he hadn’t brought it up because he didn’t want you to think that’s all he wanted. All you two have done this past month is share some kisses, and that was perfectly fine. If that’s all you were willing to give him he’s gladly take it so long as you let him be part of your life.

Josh swallows thickly as he contemplates his answer. While it sort of sounds like you’re offering, he can’t assume anything. Plus he doesn’t want to seem like the monster Minghao told you he is.

When you see him hesitate, you make a decision that really isn’t all that hard for you. With an enticing smile, you tilt your head the slightest bit and offer your neck to him. “Bite me.”

In a split second, Josh pulls you on his lap so you’re straddling him. You gasp quietly when he sits you directly on his hardening cock. His eyes are dark like on the day he revealed himself to you. In the back of your mind, you know this is a dangerous game you’re playing, but you don’t feel one shred of regret or fear.

“I’ll be gentle.” He promises, voice breathy and needy.

Josh trails gentle kisses up and down your neck with patience that you find impressive. His fangs tease the tender skin as he opens his mouth slightly, and it’s almost like you can feel it throb in anticipation. With one last sweet kiss, Joshua sinks his teeth into your skin until you can feel a stabbing pain.

You gasp out a moan at the feeling. The pain lasts a second before you feel it rapidly fade. It’s replaced by images that invade the forefront of your mind. Memories that you don’t remember rush forward as if they were aching to be freed from the depths of your mind. There’s so many, and in spite of the fact that they pass through your mind quickly, you see every one of them.

When you come back down to reality, Josh is still drinking from you. He groans into your skin, reluctantly pulling away and licking the puncture wound he’s left behind. Josh continues to press kisses along your skin and whispered praises that you can’t help but melt into him.

“Jisoo.” You breathe out softly.

Joshua freezes when he hears what you’ve called him. He pulls back, eyes wide as he takes in the way you’re looking at him. Your gaze has always been full of affection, but now it’s full of ardent love that reminds him of the way you looked at him all those centuries ago.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Y/N…” Josh sounds breathless as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to remember.” You murmur as your bring a hand up to caress his cool cheek. “But I guess it’s only fair since you left me first.”

“It’s my biggest regret.” Josh says honestly, grip tightening on you.

You hum, trailing your thumb over his lips. He opens his mouth the slightest bit so you can touch his fangs just like you used to do once upon a time. Goosebumps cover your skin at the familiarity of it all. The feelings in your chest deepen impossibly as you replay all the memories that slowly keep coming to mind. You thought it would be impossible to love Josh any more than you already did, but once again you were proven wrong.

You let out a shocked squeak when he pulls you closer to him. His face is shoved into the side of your neck that he didn’t bite, breathing in your addicting scent. “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t remember.”

“If you wouldn’t have been such a gentleman and bitten me sooner it wouldn’t have taken me so long.” You laugh, hugging him tighter.

The two of you stay like that until you shift and realize you’re still sitting on his hard cock. In a flash, the hot memory of Josh ravishing you back then goes straight to your cunt. You lick your lips and decide that you both have been waiting long enough to be with each other again.

“I’m impressed you kept your chastity just for me.” You purr into his ear, gently grinding down on his cock. “Such a loyal lover until the end.”

Josh doesn’t hesitate to take you to bed, cock aching to be inside you once again. He’s gentle when he finally gets you naked, eyes full of desire and love. “So fucking pretty.”

A breathy moan escapes you when his cold hands start to caress your body. His lips trails your neck, gently teasing you with his sharp teeth. Your skin heats up at the attention, and you feel like your floating by the time Josh gets his dick out to finally give you what you’ve been wanting.

“I missed you so much.” He groans as his throbbing cock slowly eases past your wet folds.

You moan along with him, hands finding his to lace your fingers together. “Missed you too, my love.”

Josh’s cock twitches inside you when he hears the pet name come out of your pretty little mouth. His leaking tip brushes against your cervix as your legs wrap around his hips. His pace is slow at first, trying to savor the feeling of your hot, tight cunt wrapped around him. He buries his face into your neck, licking and biting at the skin as his thrusts start to get tougher and deeper.

Your moaning is loud, and you’re amazed that he still knows which angels to hit after so much time. It’s like you’re seeing stars when Josh gently bites at your skin. He does it teasingly until you’re begging him to bite you again.

“Stop teasing.” You whine wantonly, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

His chuckle is low and has your pussy clamping down on his cock, drenching it in your arousal. You can’t remember the last time you were so turned on. It hasn’t been long, but it already feels like you’re about to come.

“Seeing you fall apart like this is my favorite thing.” You can feel his sinister smirk against your neck. “It’s been too long since I last saw it.”

Josh lets go of one of your hands to bring a thumb to your clit. He starts to rub slow circles on the sensitive nub as his thrusts grow more ravenous. You cry out in pleasure when his thick cock hits your sweet spot roughly. Your back arches in pleasure as you feel your juices start to coat his heavy balls.

“Never letting you go again.” Joshua growls lowly, more to himself than you. “All mine.”

With his possessive declaration, he sinks his fangs into your neck for a second time. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you violently come all over his big cock.

“Fuck!” You cry out, hips moving against his arms he continues to fuck you through your high.

He’s licking at your open would now, sharp thrusts angled just right to have you on the cusp of another orgasm. Joshua pulls back, pink lips painted scarlet with your blood. He looks ravenous, and you think you might actually come again from how hot he looks.

“That’s it, darling.” Josh sounds insatiable. “Cream all over me.”

It’s not long before the sight of you completely fucked out triggers his own orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shoot inside your pulsing walls, painting them white with his seed. His moans are as pretty as you remember, and they mix in with your perfectly as he fucks his cum deeper inside you.

“Fuck me again.” You pant out, still longing for the second orgasm he was coaxing out of you.

Josh’s smirks as he flips you over on your front. “Still as insatiable as ever, darling.”

You look back at him with a laugh. “Like you’re any better. So hurry and fill me up again.”

You’ll never get sick of the feeling of his cold skin on yours as he grips your ass. Josh’s large hands rub and squeeze before you feel his throbbing cock tease your messy cunt. You let out a needy whine, tilting your hips up more to offer yourself to him.

“Such a needy little thing.” Joshua murmurs in that mean but sweet tone only he was capable of having.

“Only for you, my love.” You mewl, pussy throbbing at the thought of him splitting you open again.

As is his style, Josh slowly pushes his fat cock into your hot cunt, making you feel every inch of him. Then, in a split second he shoves the rest in like he can’t wait to be inside you any longer. The jolt of pleasure and slight sting of the stretch was enough to tip you over the edge for a second time.

You muffle your cry of pleasure in the sheets, fingers clinging to the soft cotton as your pussy clenches down on Josh’s cock, making him feel even bigger inside you. He groans from behind you, loving how your juices coat his cock as if you’re claiming it as yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can you do that for me one more time?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question because in the next second his fingers are digging into your hips as he pulls his cock all the way out before shoving it back into your needy pussy with a sharp thrust. You can feel your body tremble as your pussy grips his cock like a vise.

“So fucking tight.” He groans, voice dripping with lust.

“Fuck me!” You moan, pushing back on his cock with insatiable need.

At your desperate demand, Josh sera a brutal pace. He fuck you hard and rough, leaking tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again until all he can hear is lewd squelching and skin slapping. His hips slam against your ass, obsessed with the way your sweet crema coats his cock. You cry out his name as his heavy balls slap against your throbbing clit.

Josh is pounding you into the mattress, cock splitting you open deliciously. You’re so addicted to the feeling that you can’t help but spur him on. “Don’t stop!”

You cry out in ecstasy when he does exactly as you ask. He pounds his cock against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your fingers grips the sheets as you bounce your ass back to meet his thrusts desperately.

“You’re close again, right, baby?” Josh’s voice is teasing. He doesn’t need to ask, though. He knows you are because he knows your body.

You’re moaning and shaking with overwhelming pleasure. All you can do is nod as you bring your hand down between your bodies to rub your aching clit. With all the stimulation from your fingers and his cock, you fall over the edge once again. Your body tenses as you moan out Josh’s name with ecstasy. The excess of your orgasm drips down Josh’s cock, staining it and marking it as yours.

With one last thrust, he shoots his hot cum inside you, moaning your name like a mantra. He sloppily fuck it back into you before pulling you flush against his chest. You two collapse back on the bed with Josh holding you closely as if he thinks you might disappear.

Slowly, you turn around with his cock still inside you. Joshua’s eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing.” You breathe out blissfully. “And not just because you’ve stuffed me full.”

His cock twitches inside of you, and you can’t help but let out an endeared laugh. Your chest is warm as he hugs you closer to him, lips gently skimming over your puncture wound.

“Jisoo.”

He hums against your neck, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“I was so afraid when I first died.” You confess, feeling him tense. You’re quick to pull him closer and caress his cheek. “Afraid that I’d be reborn and you wouldn’t be there when I was.”

Josh swallows thickly and comes to cup the hand that’s still brushing over his cheek. “I’ll never leave you alone again.”

“I know. Once you turn me, we’ll have the rest of eternity together.”

It all feels too good to be true, but you know that this is reality and not just another one of your sweet dreams.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo

[popawritter12]

Hey heyy!! 🍊 anon here with another request!! Can you write yandere! Ghiaccio/Fugo (whoever you preffer!) with a very caring and clingy darling? Headcanon or fanfic whatever u feel like!!

Also hope youre doing alright!! Plz know that ur writing is delicious and god ur so underrated its INSANE like omg

Yandere! Fugo Headcanons for a caring and clingy darling

Author's Notes: THIS IS THE FIRST TIME THAT'S SOMEONE ASKED ME FOR YANDERE THINGS FROM JOJOS <3<3<3

By the way 🍊Anon, Thanks for the support! I hope you enjoy this request <3

Chance of your loved ones being killed

Fugo is someone who, because of his life, had to go through something so important that it is marked both at the beginning and at the end of all of Golden Wild: his explosive personality.

He is capable of hurting people, both those he loves and those he wants dead, and you, his beloved, understood this very well, so much so that 90% of the time, your friends take refuge in you to avoid the toxic wrath of Fugo —Even if it meant facing their jealousy, they didn't end up hurt at that moment.

In front of you he wouldn't kill, but secretly he is capable. So I bet there's up to an 40% chance of that happening. More than anything because, due to your personality, he usually avoids causing deaths, solely to avoid causing you some type of sadness.

First impressions

You were a fairly young Passione member when Fugo joined the team, being just a year older than him. You weren't someone who was very demanding, in fact you became friends with Fugo quite easily. Unlike others, you expected nothing more than to be a great friend of his for the sole reason that you shared the same age, and you shared certain things with Fugo due to the fact that your childhood was not very different from his, being that the pressure itself of your parents caused you to become a delinquent, and although it was not the direct cause, it was obviously one of the most important factors for your decision to abandon your family.

But anyway; You were someone much more cheerful and social than Fugo, since you always greeted people wherever you went; He considered you a great friend, and the comfort and conversations he shared with you were such that he ended up considering you one of the most important people in his life.

Fall in love

You know it, I know it, we all know it.

He ended up falling in love, and that feeling in his heart only grew with the passing of the days, like a plant that stretched its leaves slowly, but it ensured one thing: A long and strong stem.

It was not surprising to others that due to the closeness between the two, sooner or later it would lead to something resembling love. But that's when the question arises, does he even know what all this was going to become?

Most likely not, and it wasn't entirely his fault, you know? Love is something human, and that pain that was carried in his heart was relieved solely and exclusively with your existence, with your love and your constant hugs, without those signs of affection, he would surely lose his mind.

First act or Yandere act

In a flash of anger, he attacks deliberately, so, when you paid attention to one of these attacks, you noticed that there was a subtle release in one of his screams.

Narancia was arguing with him over mathematical problems, as always, and before anyone could intervene, there was a rather interesting exchange.

“—How many more times do I have to explain it to you so you understand it?!! Fugo yelled, his hand jerking the plastic knife in his hand.

In case you're wondering; Yes, they prohibited him from using metal utensils when studying because of those 'special teachings'.

—I already told you I don't understand it!

—You're so damn useless!

The sound of shoes hitting the carpet was barely audible,

—And why's my fault that you don't know how to teach?! —Narancia attacked.

The discussion slowly escalated in severity, and Bucciarati walked calmly down the hallway outside the room where the aforementioned discussion took place, and Abaccio was next to him.

—Do you want to know something?! Your classes became boring! I'm sure it's because of your desire to fuck (Name)! —Narancia shouted, —, and if you're so upset it's because you can't fuck them, so just ask them before becoming a bitter old man!.

Narancia was going to continue attacking him, but he just received a stab against the skin of his right cheek.

In the midst of his cry of despair, his open eye met Fugo's gaze. That look, that look in his greenish eyes were filled with such inner darkness that it caused a direct chill down Narancia's back, no, his spine, and the fear was of such magnitude that it permeated his bones and clung to him. to his soul like he had never seen before.

—You're not going to be talking about (Name) like that.

A dead whisper, accompanied by a look that seemed to emanate darkness, as if death itself were locked inside that eye, as if that trapped death had a deep desire to end Narancia's life at that precise moment.

—You don't even deserve to mention their name or enjoy their hugs—Fugo's tongue seemed to have transformed into a whip at that moment—, you don't even deserve to smell the scent of their hair!

The plastic blade was withdrawn, but before he could continue attacking, Buciarati pushed him, smashing his body against the nearest wall. And at the moment that the blonde's body and weapon brutally moved away from Narancia, he alone fell to the ground, his legs trembling and his breathing irregular, his heart beating violently against his chest.

And in that moment, only in that moment, Fugo's gaze never left Narancia's eyes, and the tension he exerted against Buciarati's grip was such that even the adult tried not to be reduced, exerting more force than he normally would needed to subdue him.

Narancia still remembers that dead look to this day.”

Or at least that's how Abacio told you while they were drinking tea, accompanied by a snort and a “don't trust Fugo too much” from him.

Beginning of Yanderism

After that event, Buciarati spent hours trying to talk to Fugo, but he seemed gone, so much so that, when he let him rest, he suspected that an enemy stand had attacked him. The possibility existed, but unfortunately for them, that was not the event of today, nor of the course of these days.

Abaccio spoke with you separately, trying to decipher the reason for the blonde's actions, but when he found no information from you, he ended up telling what happened that day, with some details that, although for you they were exaggerated, the serious look accompanied by Abaccio's personality, they made you understand that it was no exaggeration.

Maybe you should hesitate to continue with him?

Relationship or kidnapping

After a couple of months, he gets up the courage and tells you his feelings. You, naturally, accepted, hoping to make a great couple with someone you loved as much as Fugo.

The first few months were good, or at least until Giorno arrived.

Meanwhile, in the relationship, whenever you were giving him a couple of cuddles, there would be a moment where he would mention the doubts he had about Giorno. And although they debated the blonde, he was not someone who would affect their relationship.

Or at least until the events of Golden Wild, where he starts to be very cautious around you.

Coexistence

Fugo took the mission of having the treasure guarded by Buciarati very seriously, and when they met Trish, things didn't change much.

You got along very well with her, since you both shared many tastes, and although she seemed surprised to see you both together, she always supported the couple that the two of you made.

In the short time they were on the mission to return Trish to her father, Fugo seemed uneasy, especially with being alone with you.

It was mostly because he certainly became addicted to the constant pampering you gave him, and he hated the idea of anyone else seeing the two of you, and no, it wasn't because he was embarrassed to be with you in public —In fact, it was one of the things that mattered least to him—it was mostly the fact that, well, let's just say that he HATES that they want to receive more affection or attention than him.

When he and you were together, it was a special moment, and no one could stop both of you from having their special moment.

Marriage and family

I don't see him as interested in marriage, but if he can, he would love to have a small wedding ceremony with you.

And, as for your family, he would take good with them —Although you should pay attention to whether they are TOO jealous of you or if you are too clingy with them—.

If possible, children?

Of course,

I see how he would give his best to be a father, reading not thousands, MILLIONS of books to be a good father, and especially to take care of his loved one during difficult times of parenting or, if biology allows it, pregnancy

Bad ending

(MY FAVORITE PART OF THIS HEADCANON JUJUJU)

After Trish's mission, the entire team finds themselves with an almost impossible to solve dilemma; betrayal or not. For most of the group it was pretty easy, but for Fugo and you it was… too complex.

Fugo held your hand at all times, in his words were the reasons why you should go with him, insisting that, even if there was a chance of success, it was impossible to face the root of the problem, the person who was behind some of them. the most dangerous groups of people throughout Italy, and throughout the world. However, your idea of continuing was as firm as a metal bar clinging to the ground during a storm. He yelled at you that if you left with them, if you dared to even think about abandoning all the future there was for everyone in the group, then you would also abandon your life with him. But, even with all his words, even with tears in your eyes, you refused to abandon them.

Even with the pain and weight that was in your soul, you refused to abandon your best friends, your family, the people who accepted you from the minute you decided to enter this horrendous and dark mafia.

He felt lost, abandoned, unhappy… It was like his parents abandoning him again, but now worse. As if now, he had lost everything he knew he needed to be alive. And even if during the first hours he convinced himself that everything was fine, that you were going to return safely, that you were not going to throw your life down the drain, and that you were going to fill him with affection and love, but in his Soul, he knew it wasn't real.

As the days went by, he felt like an alcoholic in withdrawal, and he tried to avoid it, but his soul needed it, he needed it right there, right now.

And he decides to do it, he decides to make a decision that would completely change his life.

Near you in Rome, following each and every one of they steps, he finds himself seeing what he feared most; your wounds dry cuts on your skin, bandages on your abdomen or legs, or even a wound on your face, your delicate and soft face which he loved to take in his hands and fill with kisses was… damaged, and he found a direct culprit, or rather, guilty.

The anger in his veins and in his mind was such that he knew what his next move would be.

And no, it wasn't what you thought.

(This is where possibly everyone develops a hatred towards me that I perfectly I can accept it because even for me what I am going to put is a lot)

It took a lot for him to find you alone, to manage to corner you after a fight and knock you unconscious. All that pain, all that pressure that terrified his soul went out like a fire that was poured on him with a bucket of water for the simple act of hugging you. And in that moment, he knew he was doing the right thing.

It took him a bit to dispel suspicion of where you were, but he managed to cover a lot of your tracks. But he knew that Abaccio could find them, so he had to take you to a dusty apartment away from the others, with the sole objective of making sure they could never find you.

And, after so much worry, he managed to lose all trace of them, managing to take you to a house that his parents very lovingly lent him in a place curiously far from Italy and the whole world. Can you believe that they are so affectionate with their son?!

By the way, does anyone know where they are? At the airport, desperate to leave? How strange huh…

Reasons to become Yandere

-He is used to not receiving affection, and let's say that your affectionate, clingy, cuddly personality… affected his psyche much more than he could ever imagine.

-He was already abandoned once, do you think he would take a second abandonment so easily? Nuh-uh

-You are usually very understanding with him, being that you loved seeing how savage he looked when he unloaded on you, wanting to receive pampering after complaining about his daily problems.

Extra data:

-Surprise! He figured out how to manipulate his parents so he could get a “little deal.”

-Although in the canon he even has appreciation for Narancia, in this story he is capable of developing hatred for him, even wishing for his death.

-Let's say that he can make a deal with the boss solely to ensure that Giorno and company do not interfere in their relationship.

-After the bad ending, he accepts at the beginning that he should not receive pampering from you, but his abstinence will not last long, and even less so with how addicted he has become now.

-Unlike other Yanderes, where there may be some regret, in this character no, there is no regret for his actions, and he would not hesitate to take measures up to 5 times more drastic as long as no one screws up their relationship.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Hi!💕

I was thinking about angst for Miguel. Like Miguel being in love with her since he first met her. But he wholeheartedly believes she only sees him as an friend (which maybe or maybe not be true depending on how you want it to go for Miguel) especially when he sees her happy and smiling with another man. I want to hurt but also want a good ending. Thank you ☺️

Thank you for the ask! I hope you like it 💖

---

Lost time

He pushed a doodle he had made towards you. You were seated next to him, helping him with sorting through the influx of data that had gathered from the various universes.

You took the small piece of paper to inspect it, a smile spreading across your face. It was a little sketch of you staring at the screens, with a sentence scribbled beneath it.

Don’t become like me :(

He didn’t know why he was a spider in the first place. He had spent years hating himself for it, for becoming like this. But in moments like these, moments were he too had hidden sketches of you, or when he joked just so he could hear your laugh. It made him believe that he was always meant to be spiderman or atleast he shared a few qualities with the other. It eased the voice of the critic in his head.

But as days went by, he had gone from observing you just because you were the only one he found interesting to never being able to look at anything else because he had fallen in love. That caused the self hatred within him to grow.

How can someone like you? Who lit up every room can be with someone like him.

A mutated monster that could never quite go back to who he once was. The humanness in him fading with every passing day.

He could never hold you close, his claws would get in the way.

He could never kiss you, his fangs would cut you.

And one moment he would be happy, then the next his eyes would narrow down on you like you were a threat.

So him yearning for love was as good as believing in fantasy.

You held him at a certain distance, he felt it, you would be around him long enough to thaw his heart and then flit back to the world you had come from. He watched you relax around other Peter parkers, to pull them into hugs or kiss their cheeks.

He only knew to sulk on that pedestal he built for himself, because if he just pretended to be a statue then his hurt would be left alone, frozen in time.

So he did the same now, push the paper away because if he held onto it, he’d want to frame it. The smile on your face soon becoming the highlight of his day as he sunk back into his chair.

You felt him pull away again. That was how it had been ever since you started being around him. You held the small piece of paper as though it was priceless, another great artefact that he bestowed on you, one you would take home to keep safe. Because as much as he believed he was this creature, these little gifts actually only reinstated how human he was.

You turned to look at him, to catch his eyes for a brief second before he looked away clearing his throat as though he had been caught admiring you. And you did, catch him often looking at you with dreamy eyes, it was only that you wished he would admit it to you, so then you didn’t have to pretend like you didn’t see him.

You saw him. All of him. His happiness, his sadness, his past, his present and the man he had once been, choosing to shine through the cracks now and then.

“Why do you hide it?”, it slipped out your mouth before you could hold it back. His eyes shot to you and you froze.

“Hide what?”, he asked as if you had uncovered his deepest secret.

But now it was out, now you needed to know.

“You.”, you smiled furrowing your brows because you couldn’t understand, why he kept his heart locked up.

He looked away, avoiding your gaze might help him think of a way to escape without giving you an answer but as his eyes found yours again. There was a part of him that didn’t want to shy away.

“There’s nothing great to share.”, he shrugged his shoulders but it made your smile disappear and he hated himself for it.

“Miguel.”, you said his name with a gentleness that you were sure he had not heard of before, you put away the paper to reach for his hand and you felt his fingers twitch upon your contact.

“Stop being hard on yourself.”, he heard you say and it stung him. He pulled away from your touch as though you had wounded him and the surprise on your face made him want to scream out because he had been yearning for your touch. Now he couldn’t even go after what he wanted. What he dreamed.

“There’s a reason as to why I am.”, he disguised the anguish with anger.

“Because of who you are?”, you question and he pushed away from his seat.

“Because of what I am.”, he quipped immediately, his eyes staying glued to yours as you finally saw the sadness behind his statement.

You pushed away to reach out for him, to pull him in, to confess that you loved him just as he was but he held his hands up in defense.

He began to break and it broke you, he mumbled all the reasons you should stay away.

“I could hurt you.”, he stepped back but you stepped forward.

“You deserve better.”, he was trying to convince you but instead it was the tears that were beginning to glimmer in his eyes that got you to stop.

His back hit the edge of the desk softly and it looked like he had admitted defeat.

“So you don’t want me to be around you?”, you asked softly and his eyes shot to find yours, his lips parting to disagree but instead he said,

“Ay dios. I want you. I need you.”, he stopped as he said it in a fit. The truth ebbing out his mouth as he saw you look at him with shock. You made him forget that his life had changed.

“As a friend, as a friend because that’s what we are.”, he held his hands up to ease you to then run his fingers through his hair as though he had messed up this connection between you and him.

But all you’ve been wanting was to know how he truly felt and now there was no need to pretend.

“That’s all we are?”, you asked him. Anxious that there was no room to be more.

“Yes.”, he said slowly.

“Nothing more?”, you stepped towards him as though you were stepping on thin ice.

He didn’t answer and it filled you with anger that he was ready to throw this away. That he wasn’t even going to take a chance.

“Just tell me never liked me and I can move on.”, you demanded and he pursed his lips.

“Tell me.”, you pushed forward, your face now in front of his.

But when his eyes found yours, it burned with passion. It burned as he took your hand. It sizzled as his eyes fell to your lips.

“Nunca.”, he whispered and you wanted to wriggle your hand out of his hold to march away but he didn’t let you.

“I could never imagine my life without you in it.”, he tugged you to him.

“If you had only let me know I had a chance, I would not have waited for so long.”, he said quietly, his eyes roaming over your face as his hand caressed your cheek.

“You’ve always had a chance, Miguel. You never took it.”, you placed your palms on his chest, not wanting to pull away from his arms.

“What are you going to do with this one?”, you asked as you were in this moment, your voice turning raspy when his breath cascaded over your lips.

He waited for a second, but there was nothing to think about. He pulled you to him entirely, his hands cradling your hips so you could wrap your legs around his waist. His lips catching yours with a hunger that matched yours. He moaned with delight as your fingers got lost in his hair.

He didn’t break away but he pushed away from the desk to turn and put you on it. He pinned you down as his hands caged you in, his kisses now traveling down your neck before he returned to your lips.

He pulled away to catch his breath and you couldn’t help but laugh as you were in a state of joy, his eyes softened as he joined you. You pushed yourself up and he held your waist steady, his eyes lost in yours as if he couldn’t make sense if this was real or not.

He leaned forward, to place his forehead on yours as he breathed slowly and before you knew it, you were breathing in sync with him.

“You like me as I am?”, he asked.

“I love you as you are.”, you replied and felt his hands tighten around you.

You nudged his nose with yours to get him to look at you and when he did,

“I love you, Miguel. I always have.”, you repeated it just so he knew you were not going to take it back.

His eyes glistened as he took your hand to kiss your palm as though a broken part of him had healed. He then began to place kisses on your wrist and worked his way down your arm as though his words could never convey the depth of his love. You slowly leaned back to lie down on the table as you pulled him close.

“We might be here for a while at this rate.”, he laughed and you smiled.

“Hmm we can make up for lost time.”, you chuckled.

“Oh I see.”, he said it with a mischievous tone, taunting you as his lips hovered over yours.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”, you laughed as you pulled him by the collar of his suit to kiss him again. His laugh against your lips put the world on hold for a while.

[orangeheliophile]

Smile...

Izuku Midoriya had the beauty of an angel.

The way his forest curls flowed in the summer wind, how his freckles looked like tiny stars on his skin.

The way the scars on his body hold a story with a certain amount of emotion; a core memory in each one. His voice: oh, so soothing with the tone of melody that calms one in distress.

His laugh, a joyous chorus that never failed to make your heart sing. And those emerald eyes of his, so filled with hope and kindness that never fails to shine in even the darkest moments.

But your favorite thing about him? His smile. That sunshine smile of his that made your heart race every time you had the blessing to see it. A smile like the sun with the soul of a star; that's what you thought when you first met him.

If he was a star, then he would be your favorite.

Everything about him was perfect in your eyes, as if the greenette was a work of art you wanted to admire forever. He was kind, patient, brave, loyal, and everything that would make him a 'green flag'. You were good friends at best, but you wanted to be so much more.

Now, as the both of you are third years, Izuku had grown muscle, gained more strength, and abilities with his quirk. And thank the heavens that the embers of One For All were still intact with his body.

But you never cared if he was quirkless or not. You saw the man underneath. The hero he always was. He was way more than just a hero. He was Izuku Midoriya. He was human, with the soul of a saint.

But he wasn't yours. You could be as physically closest to him, yet you couldn't reach to be in the space of his heart you yearned to be in.

Yet he continued to shine under the rays of soft sunlight, long grass flowing around him as he looked up at the sky- towards the future. You want to be in his future, you think. The way your heart thumps and cracks every time you see him, knowing that he probably would never see you in the same light.

So all you could do was daydream. Daydream of the moment that would only come in another lifetime, but you never mind waiting. You would wait for him for an eternity if it meant you could spend a single moment with him where he felt the same way you do.

Then again, only in a dream. Yet he always visited your dreams, constantly watching over you and protecting anything that would think to harm you.

It was always him being in a field in the countryside, vibrant flowers around him, and a creek nearby. There were always puffy clouds and birds singing, with him being on the top of a grassy hill with his hero uniform. And he would always turn around to smile at you, reaching his hand out for you to take.

Yet you never could, because you would always wake up again to realize that you were alone. Completely alone.

Yet the world moved on, your memories with your classmates fading into the past as it turned into nothing. Your story forgotten.

Everything that happened was just a memory now. You were old and gray, and most of your friends from Class 1-A had died. Even Izuku.

It hurt even more when you grew closer, seeing him sweetly smile at you when you met at a park or him sharing a crepe with you at a café. He had grown protective of you, yet he kept you at a distance where you were labeled as 'just a friend.'

And you waited, you waited as you watched his forest curls slowly turn silver and his freckles pair with wrinkles. He was an amazing hero, having another job as a teacher at UA where he inspired the youth to become the heroes of their generation.

Your frequent hangouts soon became less, yet he always wanted to keep you close because you were his friend. And that hurt you even more. Why torture you by keeping you close, yet so far away?

And years later, he passed away. You cried, of course. You never got married or had kids, because you wanted to wait for him. But he married Ochaco, and they had a lovely family of their own. Ochaco was your dearest friend, and she married the man of your dreams. It stung, yet who could blame her when you never got the courage to claim him?

You were happy for them. And almost nobody noticed how you cried on the inside while having a forced smile on your lips. You secretly hated when they beamed at you when they saw you arrive, rambling and talking about how you were so important to the both of them. You smiled, but you wanted to die.

Your friends eventually settled down, too, having families of their own and accomplishing their own dreams; trying to forget the trauma they endured during the war. Everyone was happy, but they grew old and soon had to retire as well. Some of them pursued another career, others had grandkids and enjoyed their retirement.

Katsuki wasn't perfect. His hair was blonde and untamable, and he was a hothead. His eyes were carmine and fierce, and he had issues. Yet he loved you. Even if you didn't love him back. He was completely devoted to you, and every single victory, accomplishment, and good thing was dedicated to you.

Yet there was one man who never forgot you- Katsuki Bakugou. He watched from the sidelines, carmine eyes dilated whenever you came in his sight. Unknown to you, his heart and soul was already yours. He never had a family either, staying the number one worldwide hero for about 45 years.

He was determined to be the best, and he was. The whole world new his name as he had monuments built in his name. And the ladies loved him, well that was too bad. He was completely devoted to you.

He retired after his best friend, Kirishima passed away from a heart failure; and the redhead was the only one who knew that the blonde was in love with you. So when Kirishima passed away, you were the first to comfort him, holding him tightly as he cried his heart out, because everyone else was either sick, or dead. The world mourned the loss of the sturdy hero, but they moved on.

You were old and a bit wrinkly, Katsuki loved you nonetheless. Katsuki couldn't fight the same way as he used to, so you found other activities to do. You went to cafés, visited beautiful landmarks, and talked to the children and grandkids of your friends. Soon enough, you both moved in together. What was the point living separately if you were basically attached to the hip?

But you... you grew tired of being left behind and alone. The melancholy becoming too much to handle, having to witness every death of someone dear to you. And soon enough, only you and the blonde remained. So you let Katsuki in.

The both of you stuck together, seeking comfort in the other as you spent hours of laughing and talking about the most mundane things; you growing closer to the blonde and him falling more in love with you.

You bought a lovely little home in between the city and the countryside, and you grew a beautiful garden and adopted a few animals along the way. The countryside reminded you of Izuku, a stabbing pain in your heart that you tried to swallow.

Katsuki understood your pain, and you understood his. So you both held each other as close as possible, wishing that your life would end so that in the next one, maybe you wouldn't focus on someone so perfect, who didn't love you. You would rather love someone back and love their flaws along the way. Because at least that kind of love would be fulfilled.

But that never stopped you from enjoying the moments you did have with Katsuki, because he wasn't the one who made you cry in the end...

... he was the one that made you smile.

Izuku's smile may have been your favorite, but in the process of loving him, he made you lose yours. Katsuki didn't do that. In the last 20 years of your life, at the ripe age of 85, Katsuki Bakugou was the man who made you happy.

And you couldn't ask for anything more.

Because in the end, it was Katsuki's smile that made you smile.

This was my first angst, how did I do?

I want to write more for Izuku! I also want to write more for this scenario, too!

(I did edit some things, because I thought it could be written better, I hope that's okay!!)

[bellbery]

— Beneath the surface (Shuro x f!Reader)

Summary: Shuro wrestles with the painful memories of a lost love, Falin, whose death has left a wound he struggles to heal. As the group faces the perils of a dungeon, Shuro’s unresolved feelings clash with the present danger, straining his relationship with his current partner, who fears she will never be enough to fill the void Falin left behind. Just when emotions reach a breaking point, the sudden appearance of Falin’s ghostly figure— part human, part griffin— throws everything into chaos. Her presence feels both like a cruel illusion and a haunting reality, while harpies swoop down, forcing everyone into a desperate battle for survival. Amidst the chaos, past traumas, lingering love, and the fight for life collide, leaving the lovers teetering between heartbreak and danger.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Just Angsty :p might hurt you idk😭

🖋️ Author’s Note: Hello! I’m new to writing fictions, but since I kept rewatching the show I couldn’t help but think of an angsty story since Shuro did came back to the Dungeon to find Falin but- I HOPE ITS GOOD THIS IS SOOO LONG I GOT TOO MUCH INTO IT, and I’m thinking of Part 2 maybe if some yall would be interested :)) just comment if you want to e part of the tag list of this i series— enjoy reding!

After Laios confessed the harrowing ordeal his party had endured, Shuro stood frozen, his expression twisted with a mix of rage and disbelief. His Tachi blade hovered dangerously close to Laios’s neck, the tension thick in the air.

“Wow, how shameful. There’s nothing more despicable in this world than black magic,” Kabru remarked, his voice calm yet cutting. He directed a pointed gaze at Shuro, who was visibly trembling with frustration. “Was this person worth going to such lengths to revive?” Kabru’s words struck a nerve, causing Shuro’s grip on the blade to tighten. I stood nearby, feeling a chill creep through my veins. The conversation was like a storm brewing, and the weight in my chest grew unbearable. Kabru continued, his tone sharp, “It’s no wonder Shuro’s this angry about it. The dangers of bringing someone back to life using such a method outweigh the benefits.” His eyes flicked to me briefly, but I could tell his focus was on Shuro, watching him wrestle with emotions he barely contained. “For her sake, it would’ve been better if he had just let her—” “Enough!” Shuro’s voice cut through Kabru’s words like a blade, his tone desperate. He lowered his head, forcing himself to sheathe his Tachi, but I could see his hands shaking. He refused to meet my eyes, as if afraid that I might see the truth buried beneath the anger— something rawer, something that had always been there between us. “I get what you’re trying to say, but please don’t continue,” Shuro muttered, his voice breaking at the end, and my heart clenched in response. It hurt to see him like this, torn between his duty and the lingering shadow of his past. It hurt even more to know that a part of him had never really let go of her, not even after all this time, after all we had shared.

I intervened to break the suffocating tension, my voice trembling slightly as I spoke, “Let’s have a meal first. Senshi and I prepared something to help restore your strength.” I offered a reassuring smile, though it felt strained against the weight of despair looming over us. Shuro’s eyes flicked to me for just a moment, and in that instant, I saw a flicker of something perhaps gratitude, or maybe just the pain of being pulled in two directions. But the moment passed quickly, and he looked away again, returning to his internal struggle. “Food won’t change what happened,” he said quietly, the anger ebbing from his voice, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow that tugged at my heart. “It won’t erase the past,” I replied softly, “but we need to eat to stay strong for what’s ahead.” My voice wavered, and I felt the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. The thought of him still haunted by her, the one who had claimed his heart long before I had ever entered the picture, twisted like a dagger in my chest. “Do you think I can just forget?” Shuro snapped suddenly, his frustration boiling over again. “Do you think a meal can fix what’s broken?” The accusation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken pain. “No, but we have to keep moving,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. “We can’t let the past consume us. Not when we have each other.”

His gaze finally met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I hoped to see understanding, but all I found was an abyss of confusion and unresolved feelings. The silence stretched between us, a chasm filled with unsaid words and unhealed wounds. It felt like the distance between us had grown insurmountable, and I didn’t know how to bridge that gap. “Please, let’s just eat,” I urged, my voice barely above a whisper. “For Falin. For all of us.” I could feel the tears threatening to spill, the weight of my own insecurities clawing at my heart. Shuro hesitated, and in that hesitation, I saw the battle raging within him. It was a struggle between duty, love, and the suffocating weight of his past— a battle that felt all too familiar. Finally, he nodded, though it felt like a hollow victory. As we gathered for the meal, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension. The food was spread before us, a distraction from the heartache that lingered in the air. But even as we began to eat, I could feel the unrelenting truth between us: he would always carry the memory of her, and I would always be the one left to wonder if I could ever truly fill that void.

“Maizuru.” I stood up, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled over us. “I will camp around a bit with Asebi to check for danger.” “But Young Master won’t agree—” Maizuru’s voice was hesitant, concern etched on her face. “I want to be alone,” I insisted, cutting her off. The words came out sharper than intended, but I needed space to breathe, to process the chaos swirling inside me. I could feel Shuro’s eyes on me, a weight of unspoken questions and unhealed wounds hanging in the air between us.

As I stepped away from the fire, I felt the chill of the dungeon creeping in, but it was nothing compared to the chill in my heart. Each step away from the group felt like a retreat into the darkness that had enveloped our lives since Falin’s death. I had been trying so hard to support Shuro, to be there for him as he wrestled with his feelings, but it was becoming too much. Asebi, my loyal companion, trotted beside me, sensing my distress. “You okay?” she asked, her voice low and gentle. “I’m fine,” I replied, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me. “I just need some time to think.” As we walked, I could still hear the muted sounds of the others eating, the occasional laughter from Senshi, who always tried to lighten the mood. But their joy felt like a distant echo, a world apart from the turmoil in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was fighting a losing battle against Shuro’s past.

We found a secluded spot, shielded from the flickering firelight, and I sat down heavily on a rock, feeling the cool surface against my skin. Asebi settled beside me, her presence comforting yet bittersweet. I took a deep breath, willing myself to gather my thoughts, to understand what I was feeling. “Why does it hurt so much?” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “Why can’t I just be enough for him?” Asebi nuzzled against my side, and I absentmindedly reached down to stroke her fur. “He’s still in love with her, isn’t he?” I asked, my voice breaking. “And I’m just… here.” There was a heavy silence, and I felt the tears begin to spill, hot and stinging. I wiped my face with my sleeve, anger mixing with the pain. It wasn’t fair. I had fought for this love, fought against the darkness surrounding us, but now it felt like I was fighting against a ghost.

What if I never measured up? What if I was just a replacement in his eyes?

“Y/N?” Shuro’s voice broke through my thoughts, deep and tentative, and my heart raced at the sound of it. I didn’t want to face him right now, didn’t want to unravel in front of him. But it was too late; he was already there, standing a few feet away, his silhouette framed by the dim light of the campfire behind him “Go back,” I said, my voice cold and unyielding, betraying none of the vulnerability that surged within me. “I just need some space.” “I can’t do that,” he replied, his tone steady but laced with something darker worry, perhaps, or an unwillingness to let me slip away. “We need to talk. You’re not alone in this.” “Not alone?” I scoffed, bitterness dripping from my words. “You may not be physically alone, but you are emotionally miles away. How can I compete with someone who’s already etched into your heart? Someone you were never able to let go of?” The silence that followed was deafening, stretching between us like an unbridgeable chasm. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wanted to reach out, to comfort me, but hesitated, trapped by the weight of his past.

A sudden creature zoomed in, almost capturing me, and I instinctively ducked, narrowly avoiding its talons as it swept past. The air crackled with danger, and I felt adrenaline surge through my veins. I glanced up just in time to see the Harpy’s grotesque form swoop around, its wings outstretched and eyes locked onto me with predatory intent.

“Y/N!” Shuro shouted, his voice sharp with urgency as he moved to stand protectively in front of me. “Get back!” My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, Asebi growling low beside me. The harpy circled back, screeching with a chilling sound that echoed through the darkness. Its claws glinted ominously in the dim light, and I could feel the fear tightening around my chest. “Stay close,” Shuro instructed, his hand instinctively reaching for his Tachi. But in the back of my mind, the unresolved tension between us hung like a storm cloud, waiting to burst. “Shuro, wait!” I called out, desperation creeping into my voice as the harpy dived again. “You can’t let your anger take over. We need to focus! But he was already moving, his blade drawn and poised. The conflict in his eyes was still there, shadowed by the rush of battle. With every flick of his wrist, I saw glimpses of the past the burden of his unresolved feelings, the lingering ghosts of what once was.

Suddenly, I saw another harpy swooping toward me, and in a moment of instinct, I shoved Shuro aside to avoid getting caught in its claws. “Warn the others!” I yelled as I narrowly dodged the second harpy, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Y/N, no!” Shuro shouted, his voice filled with panic as he rushed to regain his footing, anger flaring once again. But I couldn't afford to think about his feelings right now; I had to survive. The sudden shift in the air as I was flung away sent my heart racing. My body collided roughly with the cold, uneven surface of a rooftop, knocking the breath from my lungs. But it wasn’t the pain that froze me in place it was what I saw next.

Just beyond the shadowed edge of the roof stood Falin.

Her figure was illuminated by the pale light of the moon, her skin glowing with an ethereal radiance. Her expression was just as I remembered—gentle, yet tinged with a sorrowful depth in her eyes. Half of her body had transformed into that of a griffin, red dragon scales glinting under the moonlight, a long tail sweeping behind her. My mind struggled to comprehend it. She was supposed to be gone, just a memory, a shadow that lingered in Shuro’s heart. Yet here she was, standing before me, as real as the frigid night air.

“Falin?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath, steeped in disbelief. My legs trembled beneath me, the ache in my chest growing tighter. This had to be a cruel trick, a mirage spun by the dungeon. But her presence felt real just as Shuro had described her, never fully forgotten, never truly at rest. Beside her, harpies cackled and screeched, their feathers ruffling as their sharp claws gleamed in the moonlight. They took flight, swooping toward the group below. Panic shot through me, snapping me back to the present danger. “Everyone, look out!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the night as I watched the creatures dive toward my friends.

As the harpies descended with terrifying speed and Falin’s haunting gaze locked onto Shuro, I felt the weight of unresolved pasts pressing down on us, signaling that our greatest challenges were yet to unfold. The story was far from over…

🖋️ Author’s Note: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING MY FIRST FIC, and please like, reblog and comment for feedbacks or any critique so i could improve better :> THANJ YOU SO MUCH

[lichenes]

Looking for sdv x reader ideas?

I'll do you one, how comes despite their most obvious contrast, there are absolutely zero Shane x Reader x Elliott fics out there? I'll do it myself one day, but for now this tragedy must be shared, and perhaps serve as a spark of inspiration.

Hi anon! You've come at the right time cuz I've been obsessing over them both for a moment... which could mean nothing. And absolutely go write it!! I can't wait to read more of them!!<2 This one took a lot a long while to write but I hope I manage to as the younglings say, eat. CW: hopefully not too ooc. autor fucks around with word formation and fails miserably, brief swearing, pursuing two men at a time, shane being shane :( SFW wc: 1529 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

You were acclimatising as The Farmer(™) quite alright. You were well liked by the dwellers of Pelican Town and were generally just doing okay for yourself. You weren't swimming in profit quite yet but you were hoping to get there soon. Working at Joja wasn’t the dream but it did pay the bills so you were hoping you didn’t have to go back to it, because you’ve grown fond of this town and its residents.

Especially two of them. Elliott - the local writer and an absolute heart-throb, a stark contrast to the other, less charming but equally as enthralling - Shane. At first they were both keeping their distance from you, occasionally accepting gifts from you with a better or… worse reaction depending on what you decided to bestow upon them. 

As weeks passed they both started warming up to you, Elliott more so than Shane as he still was not ready to open his heart to someone. Elliott as the hopeless romantic was more so open to your courting, Shane on the other hand went through all five stages of grief when Marnie informed him he was actually being pursued.

Shane wasn’t sure what you saw in him. In his mind he was purely - a slob - an unwanted, shrivelled up shell of a human being who with or without his family could well lay down in his coffin and wait for the sweet release of death.

“What do you want from me?” He said praying to Yoba you’d leave him alone this time. The day was long and hard and he just wanted to drink in peace and not ruin a relationship he held so dear with a rage fueled comment. Relentlessness was what you were known for though so despite the slight hurt you felt you pulled out a bunch of chillies out of your basket and handed it to Shane. 

“Just wanted to give you this. They’re in season and…” You trailed off, your hand still extended towards him. “...how’d you know this is my favourite?” He stared at them with a hidden warmth in his eyes. You just smiled and mentioned a little birdy. He had a long stern talk with Jas after that. 

A few days later you received a pizza in the mail and you knew… you knew he was smitten.

During the winter there wasn’t much to do besides fuck around in the mines and fish. At the end of one of the short, winter days you entered Elliott’s house cold and tired after a good few hours of fishing. “Ah! And what are you doing here?” You were basically vibrating with excitement (and possibly shaking from the cold). “I know Pierre doesn’t sell this so…” You presented him with a bottle of squid ink. 

“I brought a bottle in case I caught a squid and wouldn’t you know!!” His eyes slowly rose up from his work and he stood up from the chair, starling you in the process. “My yoobness you are truly wonderful.” Your face got a little hotter at his comment as he strode towards you taking the bottle gently out of your hands. He placed it onto the nearest surface and turned back towards you. 

“Now.” His form was towering over you. Your breathing deepened as he leaned down to your level, his hair cascading down the sides of his face. A certain tenderness washed over you. You tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear and let your hand rest on his cheek. You caressed it and leaned impossibly close, your noses almost touching.

You suddenly pulled away and gave him an excuse to leave, your face hot and your hands trembling with anticipation. You exited the humble abode and went on walk slightly faster to your farmhouse than you usually would.

“You… temptress.” He mumbled under his breath as he stood there… confused. 

You could imagine that Elliott and Shane, except for the festivals, didn’t interact much. Shane spent all his days at work or in his room and Elliott at the beach. By the grace of Yoba they both, at 5pm. would head for the Saloon and keep themselves occupied, with conversation or mindless drinking. 

Once, when Elliott was severely inebriated he, suddenly emboldened by the alcohol coursing through his veins, sat down next to Shane and began conversing. “So Shane… wha’s your problem?” Shane just ignored him, looking down at the usually well kept man. His hair a mess and and a stain from the wine he was drinking on his dress shirt. “What’s yours?” Elliott rolled his eyes. “Why are you hitting on Farmer? I’ve heard you sent a pizza… must be serious…”

Shane’s cheeks suddenly went a deeper shade of red. “It’s none of your business.” Elliott smiled lopsidedly. “Yanno… we almost kissed a few days back.” Shane’s head darted towards Elliott. He continued. “Yeah… I think we’re in a pickle, man.” Shane grabbed Elliott by the collar and pulled him up as the drunk man began laughing. “Elliott, I swear to Yoba if this is true.” He nodded. “Totally true. I even got a gift.” Shane let go of Elliott and felt a cold breeze flow through him, locking him back in his shell. 

“You need to go home.” Said Shane looking at Elliott with an indescribable sadness in his eyes. “But I’m havin’ such a nice conversation with you…” Proclaimed Eliott, sarcastically. “I will carry you home if it means I don’t have to listen to you talk.” 

And so they ended up here. Elliott on top of Shane snoring softly and Shane terrified to move as to not wake him up and possibly cause a scene. Embarrassingly so, when Shane looked toward Elliott he felt a pang of shame. Elliott, the graceful, beautiful and kind-hearted person he showed himself to be was a way better a partner than Shane ever could be. 

The night after, Elliott woke up next to Shane. Elliott felt horrified that he did something without Shane’s consent as he remembered they were both pretty drunk last night. When Shane opened his eyes he was startled at first. “Did we…?” Said Shane surprising Elliott in the process. He turned to the older man with a slight smile. “Did you want us to?” 

“Not in the mood for stupid jokes. I might hate you for what you’ve done with Farmer since yesterday.” Elliott’s smile dropped. “Look, you’ve invited yourself into my house, slept in my bed and now are-” Shane stopped him. “I get it.” Silence fell between them. 

“At the end of the day It’s the Farmers choice. We can’t do anything about it.” Shane nodded void of any emotion.

You entered the Stardrop Saloon, the air heavy with suspense. A few days ago you asked them via mail to meet up here, at 9pm when most guests would leave, for privacy.  Elliott and Shane were sitting in silence, neither of them drinking, Gus was also absent, for some reason. “Hi.” You said meekly. 

“Hello.” Elliott said back as Shane only looked at you. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” 

“I know you feel betrayed, both of you and I wish I could take it all away from you but…” You stopped and then looked at them pleadingly. “I hope you understand that it’s difficult to choose and I won’t be making that decision at all.” They both looked at you questioning your statement. “My point is… I want to be with you both. I want to get to know and live a long fulfilling life with you… both.” 

They couldn’t utter a single word afraid that in the heat of the moment they would say something utterly stupid. “Say something…” You pleaded. “I think Elliott would be a much better partner than me.” Spoke up Shane. “I can’t take care of myself, much less of others and…” Elliott turned abruptly to jim. “That’s nonsense! I’ve seen you take care of Jas and Marnie time and time again. Sam constantly raves about your job ethic! You never miss a day and are always on time. You constantly put yourself down despite all the positive things people say about you. See, for once, you have a chance at love, true unbridled love and you want to give it up because YOU think you’re not good enough?!” Elliott was breathing heavily after his rant and you were all stunned at the sudden explosion of emotions. 

“Elliott I-” Said Shane, at a loss for words. “I wish you would recognise the beauty sitting within you Shane. Get out of your shell and let yourself be happy.” Finished Elliott. Shane’s stoic demeanour was slowly crumbling. “So I guess you’ll have double the expenses now…” You looked at Shane questioningly. “You know… two flower bouquets and all.” You beamed.

Each night after that Shane would swing by as Elliott made his way to your house and you’d spend the remainder of the day talking, gossiping and enjoying each other's presence. Soon enough Elliott would see you walking in the rain to the beach and he immediately told Shane the great news. 

“Till death do us part and beyond."

.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ BONUS: Them in this fic...

masterlist

[siconetribal]

Wishing You Were Here

Tag: @vbecker10, @harlequin-hangout

Pairing: Loki x Y/N

Warning: Fluff, angsty, Loki feels, all the feels, poor Y/N I'm always so mean to you

Author Note: So, I promised way back that I would do another Loki piece, and I've been working on this idea for a bit of a while. I hope you all like it, it's not as humorous as my last stuff, but I wanted to do something more serious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no denying that life was a force that was impossible to control. It was wild and free spirited, one moment and leisurely and demure the next, a wild stallion with a spirit that with an indomitable spirit, beautiful and exhilarating. An ocean with depths invisible to the eye, majestic and frightening. Life was many things, and at this moment it was unfathomable to Y/N’s mind. For almost one year now, she was living in the Avengers tower and sharing a flat within its walls with the Loki. Who knew a simple online ad was all it took to meet with people who were literally from out of this world?

Sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time, she glanced over the walls of her cubicle at the large analog clock on the wall. Only two minutes had passed since her last check. Leaning back into her computer chair, she slumped and silently groaned. This day was going to one of those long days that never end.

There’ve been a lot more of those recently. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took in a deep breath. I don’t get why it matters. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it’s most certainly not going to be the last. It comes with the territory. Loki will be out on missions more often because he’s proven himself worthy of trust and that it was the mind stone that corrupted him. Though, with a tragic backstory like his, it’s no surprise. That all aside, this is a good thing for him. He needs this, and he finally gets a chance to be with his brother. I don’t care what he plays at, he’s a happy younger brother excited to be included with his big brother and his friends, finally. Sitting up properly in her seat again, she picked up a pen and began to slowly tap it against the desk. This was a great thing, and she was happy for him. She wanted him to grow and heal, he deserved this and then some. And yet…there were days like this.

The inky goop slowly rose up, cloying and clinging inside her as she sank deeper into its swampy depths. The thick strings wrapped around her heart, sharp thorns digging into her heart whenever it wrapped around tighter. This heavy guilt was never too far behind the emptiness that lingered at the lack of his presence. There was no denying it anymore, she missed Loki. She missed his witty remarks, his infuriating way of toying with her that left her spinning and dumbstruck, his posh way of speaking, his graceful motions that made her feel like a mole trying to walk on land-awkward and fumbling. She missed his laughter, his sarcasm, his silent companionship, and just everything about him.

Who am I kidding, I love him. She leaned forward, elbows on her desk, as she hid her face in her hands. I love Loki, and there’s no point in beating around the bush. Not like I can do or say anything, though. He’s a prince, an Asgardian god. I’m just some random human that just happened to be in need of a flatmate. He can have anyone. Who knows what sort of beautiful geniuses he’s dated on Asgard, but he’s gone to premiers and events with supermodels, A-list entertainers, and actual human nobles and royals. I’m some girl from a town where nothing amazing happens that landed in NYC with hard work. A huge bookish nerd that’s always falling for the guys in the pages who are as perfect as they can be. I went from spending all my time imagining what it’d be like if they’d existed to actually living with one, and now I know how impossible it is for me to pull them.

Her chest hurt. Her throat constricted and the corners of her eyes stung at the harsh reality that slapped her in the face. She inhaled sharply and cleared her throat. This was not going to happen. Not now at work, not today. “You’re fine, Y/N. You knew this would happen if you accepted these feelings.” She scolded herself. “Chin up, get to work. He’s busting his butt out there on some mission and you’re having a self-pity party? No way,” she sat up straighter. And what a fine booty it is. “He’s one of your best friends, that’s good enough.” Cracking her knuckles, she pushed her computer chair in and got back to researching the locations you were tasked with for potential Avengers intervention.

_______________________________________

Loki sat at the edge of a cliff, watching the blue sky burst into orange and purple as the sunset in the distant horizon. The gentle ocean breeze caressed his face. He took in the crisp salty air and let out a deep relaxing sigh. Why was he such a fool? There was nowhere in the nine realms that he could go that would get her out of his mind. The mission had ended almost a week ago, but he was unable to go back. Not yet. Like a shooting star, she came crashing into his life and he was never the same. The once aloof and independent second prince who had a need for nor no one was now stuck to some Midgardian? Preposterous.

No, she is not some comet. She is the ocean. Shapeless and all encompassing, he stared out at the water stretched before him. The waves lapped against the shore. Unassuming and everywhere, and yet I’m always searching for her.  How long had he been like this? So overwhelmed by her that it was getting harder to tread her waters? When did her waves that licked at her heels start to come crashing over his head. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath with his lips pressed thin. It’s not her fault. It is foolish of me to blame her. She did not come to drown me, and yet here I am tumbling in the depths. 

For many years he lived just beneath the surface, barely surviving was his only purpose. The sins of his past, the horrid and vile emotions of disgust, hatred, and shame hung over his head every day. His traumatic past and the consequences of his poor decisions haunted him every night. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to, and his existence was merely just that, an existence. Who was he? What was he? He needed to find himself once more. “And my overly eager brother was happy to assist me,” he mumbled as he opened his eyes to see the blackish-blue sky slowly begin to dot with stars. “Which led me to her.” He sighed.

When did the darkness turn to light? When did I, Loki of Asgard, begun to look forward for something? No, someone. The one who changed everything was her. It was a random afternoon in the tower when it was brought to the forefront of his mind. Y/N was out of town for some family reasons, and he had been alone in the flat for roughly three days at that point. His training was done for the day and there were no meetings until later in the evening when the recon would return with more data. He had the whole day free to do as he wished. A rare moment of peace, which he took and ran straight to their flat to read the book he was unable to finish because of work. 

Comfortably settled in his favorite leather chair, he picked up the leather-bound tome and opened it. Before he could focus on the words, a flat piece of wood slipped out from between the sheets and fell silently on his lap. There was a hint of sandalwood infused in it with intricate and delicate designs carved into the body with a green braided rope and tassel looped through the hole punched at the top. A birthday gift from Y/N. He had no need for a bookmark. His memory was excellent and there was no need to celebrate his birthday. There was nothing worth commemorating, and he told her as such. Her shoulders had dropped a smidgen at his words, but her smile never faltered. She pushed through with the same energy as she pulled out a small cake she had made for him. 

“Your birthday is important to celebrate because you were born. Had you not been born, I would have never met you, and I’m grateful you were!” Such simple words had struck him, the God of mischief with a silver tongue, silent. She was sincerely happy. His heart thumped rather uncomfortable at his ribs and his mouth felt dry. It was as if he was slowly drowning in a tub of lukewarm water. It was awkward and heartwarming, something he had forgotten long ago. His icy disposition was beginning to melt. He looked around at the well furnished apartment that suddenly felt larger and hollower than the royal halls of the Asgardian castle. He fidgeted in the deafening silence before grabbing the bookmark. Snapping his book shut, he stood from his seat and left. To where, he was not sure, but he could not stand being in there anymore.

He roamed the halls of the tower aimlessly before heading to the cafeteria to eat. He heard a female voice and quickened his pace. Y/N, he eagerly stepped into the kitchen area only to see it was a group of women and none of whom were her. He flashed them a perfect smile, earning a few squeals and giggles, before he excused himself. I should go to the library, that’s it. I need a change of scenery when reading. He straightened his back and turned on his heel. As per usual, there was scarcely anyone there. His favorite spot by a large bay window was empty, as per usual, which made him smile. Just how it he liked it. He walked towards it but stopped at the call of his name.

“Loki, look! Isn’t this cool?!” He turned at her voice, only to find no one there. When did he so desperately wanted to hear her voice call his name? To hear her laughter and ridiculous banter? When did the lack of her presence made his world seem so empty? He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists when he felt something dig into his palm. Glancing down, he saw the bookmark broken in half in his palm. He had not realized he was holding it this entire time, and it was now just like him, broken. Pocketing the pieces, he made his way out of the library and sought out Thor. He needed to get out of here before he lost it. 

So he took on the earliest and left before she returned. And now here he was, sitting under the star-studded sky of New Asgard, and he was still thinking about her. He knew he was infatuated with her, but it was so much more now. He wanted to possess her, keep her with him. She consumed his mind, burrowed a hole into his life and permanently occupied the spot. Even now, he knew she would have loved to have seen the blazing setting sun or quietly observe the great burning balls of gas burning millions and billions light-years away. She was always everywhere. He gently rubbed at his aching chest.

“Brother was right, this is not a simple passing phase. I,” he paused for a moment. Something about saying it seemed so final. As if putting it out into the ether would seal his fate. “I love her.” He sighed, the weight on his mind vanishing, but a new weight pressing on his heart. He wanted to see her again. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the many unread messages from Y/N. Each of them wishing him the best, success on the mission, praying for his safety, and anticipation of his return home. Home, he snorted at the thought and shook his head. He sat silent for a moment before he let out a small laugh. “She is home, what have I become? How much of a fool do you wish to make of me, Y/N?” He asked aloud, shaking his head at himself, unlocking the device and hitting the phone icon by her name. It rang a handful of times before she picked up, the sound of the phone tumbling and her fumbling greeting him.

“H-hello?! Loki?!” Her groggy voice came from the other side.

“Hello darling, were you sleeping?”

“Mmm, no, just sorta knocked out on the couch.” She mumbled, he could imagine it now, her slowly sitting up with her hair a bit of a mess and as she rubbed her eyes. He chuckled softly. “Are you done with your mission?”

I’ve been done for a while now, but I can’t tell you that. It would break your heart, but the worst of it is that you would never hold me accountable for my selfish whims. You would be understanding and supporting, as you always are. “Yes, we stopped by New Asgard along the way.”

“Oh? Hopefully not for work?”

“No, no, nothing like that. A simple little reprieve to clear the mind.”

“That’s nice, you deserve it.” Her sincerity stabbed at his heart.

“I’ve found a nice cliff where there is a perfect view of the setting sun over the ocean. I watched the cascading colors over the waters and sky transition from brilliant, bold colors to the dark night. It was breathtaking, much like you.” He smiled as he heard her cough from shock. She must have been drinking some water. “I know how much you love seeing these sorts of things, I wish you were here. And sitting here, watching it without you, just didn’t feel right without you. I had to call.” I wanted to hear your voice. “I wish you were here.”

“Aww, that’s really sweet of you. I wish I could be there too. It’s been really lonely here without you, but I know you’re busy, so I can wait. You’ll come back when you’re done”

Oh, how I miss you too. His chest swelled with such happiness at her confession. It was as if he was given the greatest new in all the nine realms. He wanted to run back to the tower right now and hold tightly in his arms. “Only a few more days until we will be reunited again.” He assured her. “I miss you too, my love.” He heard a hitch in her breath and some clattering and her muffled shock. She must have dropped the phone somewhere and is trying to fish it out. Little did he know, she had dropped it on her face and was currently rubbing her nose.

“My love, that’s a new one.” She finally answered.

“Yes, yes it is. Do you perhaps not like it?”

“What? No, no. no! Not at all! I mean it’s uhm, could be a little misleading.”

“Misleading, how so?” He smirked at how flustered she sounded.

“Uhm, well, you know, it could give someone ideas.”

“Someone ideas? Who is that someone and what are these ideas?” She fell silent on the other end, and he did his very best not to laugh, knowing she was probably dumbstruck and trying to gather the words to explain to him what she was implying. Did he know what she meant already? Of course, but where was the fun in that? Though he did miss seeing her expression for himself.

“Well, not just one someone…but one of them could be me.” She finally answered. “And uhm, the ideas, well, you know, love is a very strong word. Could make people think serious things.”

“Serious things? I suppose that would be concerning if that was wrong.”

“Exactly, so you shou-what?!”

“I said it would be concerning if it were wrong. But it’s not. This is not “giving ideas”, I’m being quite up front. But this is not something that should be discussed over the phone. I’ll make sure to make it very clear for you and everyone when I get back. I’ll see you soon, goodnight darling.” He hung up before she could respond, smiling with utter satisfaction as he got up from his spot and made his way back to the city to speak with Thor. They needed to prepare to leave as soon as possible, because poor Y/N will be an utter mess until they return.

[their-dearest]

The day he met his demise.

[Tw: death and mentions of blood and injury.]

It was quiet. Too quiet, save from the deafening gasp leaving his mother's lips. Each passing second is gnawing upon Ruu's patience and, soon, his sanity.

How much longer does he have to play the part? Days? Months? Years? Maybe centuries? Spirits, he lost track of every moment.

All he knows is that this cycle happens every three days.

If only he had joined his dearest friends, maybe he would have at least gotten to—

"Ruu," his father—no, Grandpa Mata called upon him—"The Thunderbird awaits you."

Those words, no matter how many times it reaches his ears, never fail to make his throat dry.

He tried to find some response, anything, but all of them slithered underneath his tongue. And when his eyes met his father's, he couldn't help but notice how his eyes glistened under the dimming sky.

Are those tears?

No, his father was never the one who wore his heart on his sleeve. Always so distant and unwavering just like the fog Thunderbird blessed Tsurumi. And yet, in that moment, he saw a side he had never known existed. Vulnerability and humanity.

After all, his father bleeds the same shade of crimson as him.

"Yes, Grandpa Mata."

The boy nodded, pulling his coat around himself with his trembling hands. It wasn't even cold in the slightest, and yet the very atmosphere sent streams of sweat to trickle down his forehead. With each step he took, his knees would tremble under his weight, until one particular pebble makes him lose balance for a second.

He braced for impact, but it never came.

Ruu's mother, Sak, rushed to his side, cradling his form before his knees met the brash cobble. Her hands, often soft and gentle, held on his shoulders with an iron grip, fearing that if she'd let go, he'd lose her too… just like the children before him.

"You don't have to do this, please. Please, let's return home, Ruu." His dearest mother bargained. Each syllable was shaken with desperation and stained with grief for what's to come.

"My boy, why must you sacrifice yourself?"

Why did he have to die? He never wanted to die. No one does. But if it'll make the island a better place… he's willing to be that sacrifice.

Her indigo hues met his own, and for once in a long time, his mind was silent. It was like staring at his mirage, a glimpse of what he could've been—sharing the same azure locks and the same fickle hope in their eyes.

"She chose me for a reason, Mom."

His frail yet calloused fingers grazed hers before setting her arm to her side, "Please, let me do this for you. For all of us."

Her shoulders went limp.

Ruu's heart faltered, along with the remaining hope in her mother's eyes. She took a step back, then another, until she resided in her spot by the altar's base, along with the village women.

Each flock to her way, offering ounces of solace to her grieving heart. But none can soothe the flood of tears cascading down her face.

With a quivering sigh, the boy turned his back and dragged his feet to the altar. He has done it countless times, each moment ending the same. But the blade slashing his tongue doesn't sting less, nor does the blood taste any less vile. And her resignation didn't hurt any less.

There it was. That Makiri resting on his father's sash. Ruu knew that blade far too well.

His feet move on its own, taking a small, yet rehearsed step forward. He remembered wielding that very carving knife when he was half his age as he cut through the flesh of a small rabbit, his first hunt, all while his father guided him through the entire process.

And now, that very knife has been and will continue to carve against his flesh.

When Ruu found his way to the top, his gaze lingered on the golden goblet to his left. The mere sight of it made his knees tremble. Was it out of fear or exhaustion? Perhaps so, perhaps not. But he paid no mind as he laid his back against the cobbled altar. His eyes drift to the skies once more, specks of magenta, scarlet, and ashen gray swirled together to form a maelstrom of colors, a symbol of Her Thunder.

Ruu took a few deep breaths, relishing the way his lungs would rise as he let the weight of his eyelids take over. His father's footsteps echo with the cobblestone, each step grew weaker than the last. And soon enough, his shadow loomed over his head. His small hands balled into fists as his nails dig through his coarse skin.

For what's the point of watching if he knew what's to come?

A droplet. Then, another.

When the boy opens his eyes, his eyes widen at the sight above him.

Tears? Is he seeing things?

His father, Grandpa Mata, weeps above him. The every-stoic man, the face of their tribe, is reduced to a mourning man. His hand trembled at the handle of the carving knife as every teardrop fell against Ruu's cheek. Every breath he took was a laboured one, as his shoulders quivered.

He cries on his son's behalf.

"Grandpa," His voice wavers ever so slightly. But his words are met with silence. And so, he continued. "Grandpa, please, don't cry."

Ruu's hand gripped his trembling limb, guiding the glistening steel to his lips.

"I believe in you," his voice trails off before he can even finish, “Dad.”

As Mata took a deep breath and tightened the knife in his hand, Ruu's heart raced. He knew that the first cut would hurt the most. The pain would be unbearable, but he prayed that it would also erase the burden of his people.

Mata's hand trembled as he raised the knife. The boy closed his eyes and breathed through the anticipation. One final, calm breath before the agonizing storm. With a quick swipe, Mata made the first incision on his tongue, and Ruu felt a flash of intense pain. He winced and clenched his hands as tears streamed down his face.

The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was searing and sharp, as if someone had taken a hot blade and sliced cleanly through his tongue. But that is far from the case.

He felt an intense aching in the area where his tongue had been split. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and he could feel the crimson, coppery liquid running down his throat, while salty tears flooded his chin.

But even through the agony, Ruu felt a shred of hope. The sacrifice had begun, and he prayed it would grant his people a second chance.

He would make this sacrifice over and over again if it meant regaining Her gaze once more.

Splash!

At the seventh slash, his tongue plunged into the pooling blood in the golden goblet.

Ruu's tongue, flesh and blood, stared back at him mockingly. The sanguine-tinged liquid waves in a nauseating manner, and spirits, it burns throughout his mouth. His senses dulled as the warm blood seeped from his lips and all the color bleeds from his face.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Please, make it stop… I don’t wanna die anymore.

Ruu is fading fast. His vision clouded, and his mind was heavy. Panic rose in his chest like the inferno oozing from his mouth. The world began to slip away, and the last thing he remembered was the burning sensation in his throat, rising, rising until it consumed him completely.

The weight of the world rested on his eyelids, as exhaustion took over him. In his last moments of clarity, the boy's mind wandered on one thought, all while his indigo hues met his mother's.

And a boy named Ruu took his last breath.

It was quiet, too quiet, save for the wailing of a grieving mother.

[romanceuntold]

hi everyone! it's jen, back at it again since i always come around with a long, heartfelt "end of the year" wrap up! i just gotta be there. i hadn't had the time to come up with an actual heart-to-heart message this year, so i would like to share something else with you guys instead (aka my personal ending ment hehe) i hope this finds you all well! 🩵

a message for the upcoming year - "if you knock on a door and it remains closed, it means there is nothing behind it. theres no magical, mysterious, alternative life you are being denied. there is nothing you are missing out on. what you are grieving is an idea of what might have been. if you feel you have spent too much of your life in disappointment and regret, perhaps is that you have tried to turn too many dead ends into pathways, empty rooms into more than they were ever intended to be. if you knock on a door and it remains closed, it means that the path is unfolding somewhere else, and you're now one step closer to finding it. it is not your dreams that must be released, but your sense of posibility that must be awakened."

another one goes... "if today was difficult for you, i hope you know that tomorrow can be better, i hope you know that the moments that are uncomfortable or hurt or dont make sense will pass. i hope you remind yourself of all the times you didnt think you were going to feel better but you did. as you go through your days, remember that every moment is just a moment.

when you cant take it one day at a time, try to take it one breath at a time, take really good care of yourself and know that it's okay if you don't accomplish everything you told yourself you needed to today. you dont have to start a new routine or healthy habit today if it feels like too much. you dont have to be as productive as the people that you see everywhere. your life is yours and you only have this one. tomorrow it will feel a little bit better. and then better. and then better. you are safe. you will have everything that you need."

and finally, before the next 12 months begin, here's your checkpoint - if you're carrying a weight that doesnt belong to you, it's time to release it. forgive yourself for those lessons that were learned a little too late. you're human, navigating a path that's both complex and beautiful. embrance the wisdom you gained, even if it came at a cost. remember, growth knows no timeline and you're exactly where you need to be.

your timing is yours alone, nobody else's!

@hyunpic ♡ @shorelinnes ♡ @xiaoxiongmaos ♡ @choibeomggyu ♡ @yeonjune ♡ @choi-soobin ♡ @heelicopter ♡ @minhosblr ♡ @innielove ♡ @crazy-form ♡ @facethesuns ♡ @dokyeomis ♡ @moonsua ♡ @hooned ♡ @lveclouds ♡ @exocean ♡ @dowoonyoon ♡ @bcomgyu ♡ @seungkwan-s ♡ @xiaojuun ♡ @usertae ♡ @bestleader ♡ @yutito ♡ @tmpttion ♡ @dykeyeonjun ♡ @wayvmp3 ♡ @oddinarys ♡ @woozis ♡ @jeonwonwoo ♡ @tbzuyeon ♡ @twiceland ♡ @soujisetas ♡ @yeonbins ♡ @heesungs ♡ @ddominho ♡ @isitstraightvodka ♡ @euphhorias ♡ @beomieblr ♡ @gyusgal ♡ @jaeyuned ♡ @5oobin ♡ @hueningkai ♡ @pookiez ♡ @waketoearth ♡ @deerseungs

to my cosmos (bc who am I if not the one who writes a bunch of words to yall lol):

🍜🐕 chesca: you are NOT at all the mean words stuck at the back of your mind. no way! you're as pretty as the flowers, the water, the weather, (specially the ORANGE SHADES) in each of those monet's paintings. with that, art might not be everyone's cup of tea, sure, but is still ARTWORK for a reason. you're not behind on anyone, you don't need to rush, to keep up, i've told you this before, so please... take great care of yourself. i want you to be as proud of yourself one day as i am on the daily. one day that will turn into everyday. you will get there, you will be your greatest inspiration one day.

🌻 sun: of all the things i wish to tell you, felix wrapped it all in one go: just take your time, if you want to take a break, take a break. dont force yourself to do something. if you feel tired or if it's too hard for you, no need to stress. you still have time. every single person is good at something. you still have so much time. this is your checkpoint: tend to your wounds, let them heal, if it hurts too bad, i'll help you bandage them til you are good to go. i promise!

🐱 maja: as a grand poet (lee know) once said: "no matter how you look at the sky, it is still blue. when it rains it turns gray. there are also times when it's dark but above the clouds, it's still blue. it'll all be over soon, it's just an extra headache if you worry about it". you will be alright! and yes, even if that one issue (or a few issues) is still weighing down in your heart a little, it's just a bigger cloud. the bluest of skies will still be there, for you, and so will i!

🎨 agnes: i wish i could just cup your face with my hands and yell at you about all the necessary things you need to remind yourself. for now, here goes something: "you are not meant to be ornamental, you are meant to be a person. that means taking up space and being loud and standing up for your needs (and sometimes wants) and being inconvenient because that's what people are." 100 becomes 99 if a number is missing, the set will never be whole without that 1 number to it. the space will be there for it to take up, bc 1 belongs there. much like us, much like the world. so please, just allow yourself to be.

finally - to all of you beautiful people, if you guys must, just take a moment to yourselves, to reflect upon everything. love is such a beautiful and messy thing, but when it comes to the end of that line, what are we if not love personified? whenever i write these, know that i am speaking to you all specifically, heart to heart. i dont know about the rest of the world, but I know about my friend-tuals. you guys deserve the world, i dont care what anyone says, you. deserve. peace. so rest well, we got another 12 months ahead! among such violent ends, you are bound to be a wonderful start.

i hate goodbyes, but if it means opening up space for a better something, i'm willing to bid farewell for a change. so much has happened, which makes me think... what a privilege it is to be able to still be here, able to use words to reach out to you all. thank you to everyone on this list. we will all be okay, eventually. we will be okay! let's meet again soon, and then again and again and again. i love you guys so so much. happy new years!!! 🎉

[owlsandwich]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you @eccaiia for tagging me! I've been editing Darkness a bunch this evening so excited to share something :D

I'll tag @late-to-the-fandom @mundanemoongirl and @teacupsandstarlight

Here's a fun bit of Julian getting a much-needed lecture from Celica:

“I need to leave the network,” Julian said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Of course you do. I should have guessed. Your word is dirt, Julian.”

“I’ve been called back to court. My responsibilities outweigh any personal affections, as you should know.”

Celica bristled. “Oh, so Daddy found out and now you’re running home without any consequences.”

“...I’m sorry you weren’t given that option.”

“I’d never have taken it regardless!”

Julian tilted his head, shaking off the snow that had settled in his hair. “I’d thought better of you. Your family’s reputation was all but destroyed.”

"Because of you!" Celica growled. "Advancing our society with kindness and fairness, allowing our people to live the lives they wish — these things were no threat to the court until your father declared them to be. I shouldn't have had to choose!" She rested a hand on the gate, gazing at her home as though seeing something beyond the house before her. "You live in the past," she continued. "Holed up in your mansion, seeing danger around every corner. When will you realise that the world moves on? Time passes whether you embrace it or not, and sooner or later, it will leave you behind."

“Do you really think they don't see you for what you are? You're a fool to mingle with humans. They would gladly kill you if they had the power. I hope you remember who to thank that they don’t. Rowan’s war stories weren’t that long ago.”

“For us, Julian. It’s not long ago for us. For them, it’s generations. Rowan was human once. You’ve turned one yourself. Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that Oren wanted you dead?”

Julian choked on his reply. “The ones we turn are different. They always have been.”

“Things are always different when they happen to you, aren’t they.” Celica rolled her eyes. “I assume you’re taking him with you, whether he wants to leave or not.”

“No. I need you to keep him on.”

Celica laughed; a snap that resonated down the empty street. “You actually... You genuinely expect me to change my conditions, just for you? Because it suits your purposes?” She shook her head, eyes shining with bitter amusement. "I forget you’re so special, Julian. Everyone’s just waiting to swoop in and clean up your mess."

Julian grit his teeth. “He didn’t choose this, Celica.”

Her expression soured. “I know. He told Ada tonight.”

“Then you must see why I’m asking. He won’t hunt. This will turn him feral!”

“You knew the terms when you agreed to them.”

“You’d sacrifice an innocent just to hurt me.” Julian said. It wasn’t a question.

“If forcing an innocent through an eternity of torment was the price to pay to cause you a mere moment of pain, I would pay it gladly.” Her carefully constructed curls were unwinding in the damp. Sharp fangs glinted at the corners of her snarl, stripping away any illusion of humanity and leaving something terrifying and beautiful.

Julian took a deep breath. “If you truly meant that, you’d never have offered your help in the first place.”

“I offered you assistance because if I didn’t, you’d have to kill him. Were you arrogant enough to think the bond wouldn’t affect you? If I let you break it, whatever illusion of compassion has infiltrated your shrivelled heart would be gone. You’d go straight back to being what you always were. But like this... You’ll do anything for him. You’ll destroy yourself to keep him safe, without me having to lift a finger, and I’m going to drag it out as long as you’ll let me.”

She watched his reaction with the satisfaction of a cat dissecting a bird, and Julian finally understood.

“Please, Celica. I love him.”

“You don’t know what love is, Julian. Because of you, I have to watch the woman I love age and die. You dare compare your feelings to mine just because you decided to get yourself a pet?”

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 5]

I continue to be a menace to society (and my grad school classes)

Having fun revisiting the dialogue for Astarion/Gale. I've debated if Halsin will be a main fixture, as this story has less development between the other characters, but I think Eletha would be very drawn to Halsin and Jaheira.

More relationship development, a little more emotional anguish.

Please feel free to comment or anything about what you like, I love hearing people's opinions/questions! Everyone has such interesting takes.

(Prev)[Part 4] (Next)[Part 6] [Master Post]

[I've run out of relevant gifs and tumblr keeps shitting the bed. feels naked here. so sorry, gif by greenstarzxo]

Eletha and Gale took their turn staying behind at camp, cooking and easing the pains of their journey out of their bones. With a bottle of wine, she chose to keep him company as he tended to supper.

“I’ve thought about that moment we shared under the Weave,” he said fondly after a moment of silence passed.

“Oh?” she responded in surprise. It wasn’t exactly the answer Gale was hoping for. Tentatively, he asked, “Do you?”

“It’s no fault against you, but… I try not to.” Eletha hurriedly took a fortifying sip of wine. “It was nice, in the end. I’m… ashamed you saw the first part.”

“What you chose to share with me was wonderful,” Gale reassured her with an easy smile. It gave way to his usual manner of pensiveness. “I’m not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace.”

He looked her in the eye, open and bold. Eletha could feel her heart flutter. “You’re one such event that, one day soon perhaps, I’d like to embrace.”

“Bhin, don’t play with an old elf’s heart,” she said with a nervous chuckle, quick to return to her drink and staring at the campfire flames. “What does ‘perhaps’ mean to you, exactly?”

“If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'.” Gale laughed as Eletha rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable.”

A lot of that going around, Eletha thought to herself, knowing better than to say it aloud.

“Is that how you see me? As just a ‘young human male’?” Gale asked her when she had nothing to say.

“Isn’t that what you are?”

“I’m not that young for a human… Though I suppose I am young compared to a mage of my skill.” Gale clicked his tongue as he mixed their supper. “I suppose I am quite young compared to you.”

“I’ll stop calling you Bhin if you want,” she offered. Gale shook his head.

“I kind of like it. Keeps me humble.”

“Yeah, if only I was around to keep you humble before you put ancient magic in your chest.” Gale laughed.

“Indeed.” A few more moments passed in silence. Bonnet passed by and Gale offered her some scraps from his preparations. Then he asked, “Is that… a no?”

“I’m honestly really flattered that someone like you would even consider… me, in any fashion. I just… don’t want to drag someone into my problems,” Eletha told him honestly, voice tinged with regret. “With- well, you know who, back in my life… A lot of old demons are getting dragged back out of the hole I buried them in.”

“I understand. There is a lot to revisit there. Time heals all wounds, so they say, but there’s no rule on how long it takes.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. You’re a good man. You don’t deserve that.”

“It’s quite alright. I respect your honesty and compassion.”

“I would still like to accompany you back to Waterdeep, when this is all done.”

“You don’t wish to go home? I’ve been thinking, with all this traveling, that it would be marvelous to have you as my guide through the Dalelands.”

“I can’t go back there,” Eletha said definitively, taking a long drink of wine until her bottle was empty.

“I see…” Gale was worried, but he tried to not let it show too much. Eletha didn’t always respond well to concern, much like Astarion. It was a little funny how alike they were in some ways and so different in others. “Well, if that’s the case, my home will always be open to you.”

“That’s kind of you. I’ll have to introduce you to all my other traveling friends,” she told him with a wink. “They’re a bunch of weirdos, so-”

“I’ll fit right in?”

“Exactly.”

----

Old habits die hard. When Eletha felt herself slipping, felt that familiar darkness creep back in, she stalked their surroundings while the others slept. It’d be nice to have fresh meat, sometimes she found something worth foraging, but that wasn’t the purpose. The point was to wade through the darkness and wash away all sense of self. Here in the woods, there was no past or future, no responsibilities except the need to survive.

Her sense of self came back as something crashed through the brush. Astarion. As satisfying as it would’ve been to put an arrow in him for bothering her, she scanned the woods for the hidden threat instead.

“It’s just me,” Astarion told her giddily, limping to his feet. Smiling like a fool, swaying in a little circle, arms thrown out wide, he cried out merrily, “There you are! My… Well, I don’t know what you are. You’re not… my darling, my dear, my sweetheart. We’ve tasted each other’s flesh and I can’t even call you my friend.”

“The hell happened to you?” Eletha asked, slinging her bow over her shoulder. He was scuffed up, and not just from running through the bushes.

“I found a bear. Not your bear, obviously. He took a little of my blood, I took all of his,” he explained smugly, swaying and gesticulating animatedly. Fixing his hair, he asked, “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Running away. Going to Baldur’s Gate all on my own,” she told him casually, not exactly as scathing as she expected it to come out. Astarion laughed and it was so honest and familiar that it made her chest hurt.

“I suppose I deserve that.” He sighed in satisfaction. “You gave me a lot to think about, you know.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“And you call me a cock.” Reflecting the moonlight, his red eyes flickered as he watched her remove the stopper from her waterskin and take a drink. He sobered a bit in order to sound serious. “Those elves. In that vision you showed me. They were our families?”

Eletha took out and put back the stopper several times, sometimes even raising the skin to her lips before pulling it away. His heightened sense of smell could tell it was a liquor, stronger than the one or two cups she’d have with their evening meal. Sometimes he could taste it in her blood when he asked for just a sip.

“Yes,” she managed to answer eventually.

“I don’t know what I want to do. For so long I raged against Cazador for taking my old life away from me, but if I ran off so easily… Would I want to see them again? … Would they want to see me?” he asked himself. “Now I have someone who knows me. How tragic that it’s under such circumstances. Or is it fortuitous? If you’d met me back in Baldur’s Gate, you’d just be another snack for Cazador.”

Eletha took a large swallow from her waterskin and, before she could close it, he took it from her. He had to keep from choking, its strength surprising him. She must have an iron liver to be knocking back stuff like this. He fixed her with his gaze, his eyes roaming over her face, following her scars and lingering on her lips before flicking up to her eyes.

“You told me I have to ask you for what I want,” Astarion whispered, somewhere between dreamy and husky. “I want… for us to be friends. I want to be your Star again, if just for a moment.”

Eletha reached up and threaded her fingers into his curls as she crushed their lips together. Her ears were deaf to everything but the blood rushing through them and their soft moans. The only sensation she knew was his lips against hers and their bodies pressed flush against each other.

For a while now, she’d been walking along the edge of a pit with no discernable bottom. It was the pit where she threw all of the things she left behind. Her family. Her homeland. Her heart. She’d danced on that edge before, longing for something unavailable to her. Something hidden in that pit would sing out to her, bidding her to wallow in that comforting darkness. But she knew that if she went in, she would not come out.

It was so easy, too easy, to open herself back up to the pain he brought her. It was so easy to accept his caresses and meaningless words of affection. With him, she could revel in self-destruction, in the darkness, until the last vestiges of her sanity gave way and she succumbed to madness, where she could finally be free from herself.

The body pressed against her was cold. Its breath was practiced. It didn’t smell quite right. Its movements, while perfectly in concert with her own, were mechanical and impersonal. Its touch was just a bit too forceful, lacking in tenderness and comfort.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what she wanted. She’d thought about this for centuries and it felt wrong.

Eletha pushed Astarion away forcefully. His mouth hung open in shock. Hurt reflected in his eyes. She tried to speak, to tell him something, to explain herself. There were so many things she had to say to him.

Then she braced herself on the tree they’d been using for leverage and vomited. Violently. When she was done, her knees wobbled and tears streamed down her face. 

Astarion made a disgusted noise, then clicked his tongue. “Aww. Poor thing. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

Thankfully, everyone was asleep. It didn’t look too good, half-dragging Eletha’s limping body into camp.

After making her as comfortable as he could in her tent, Astarion rose to leave. Unexpectedly, her hand snatched his.

“I won’t… let him hurt you… anymore,” she said deliriously, her blue eye hazy with exhaustion. Astarion laughed quietly.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he whispered to her. He tried to leave again, but her grip was surprisingly firm.

“If you want… to see them… I can take you…” From the sound of her voice, he could tell that it wasn’t just the exhaustion that made it hard to speak. “You have to promise… to not let them… hurt me… again.”

“Why would they hurt you?” Astarion asked firmly, protectively. Anger flashed in his eyes.

“Because… I did something horrible…” Eletha tried to force back her tears. His shoulders sagged as he sighed. Of course. She was just fucked up from drinking. It did seem to be happening with increased frequency…

“You’re almost as much as of a good-two-shoes as Wyll. There’s no way you did something so bad your family would hurt you.” Astarion managed to get free of her grip and he attempted to tuck her in tightly so she couldn’t escape again. “Now get some rest.”

“No. I don’t want to,” she argued, fighting against the blanket. Quietly, as if the thing she feared could hear them, she whispered, “The bad thing is there.”

“The bad th- You’re a mean old bitch, not some child hiding in their mother’s skirts,” he sniped, reaching for one of her many bags. This one clinked as he rummaged around. “There must be a sleep potion in here somewhere…”

“You can… call me… your friend…”

“I wish I could,” Astarion said with a disappointed sigh, “but you won’t remember this in the morning.”

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

The Wicked Spring

⚔️ All Previous Parts Here ⚔️

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO (knots, slick, mpreg), Viking/god Col, fae Dom, plot heavy chapter, scared boys, PTSD, evil returns, MF being awful, groping, trying to find alone time, interrupted fun, Cia running off, baby in danger (only for a moment), uncovered secrets, Dom getting sick, mentions of underage sex (Col's past), hurt/comfort ☠️ rating: mature/verging on explicit ☠️ shared ideas by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Nothing had changed exactly since Kol'son and Dom had found time for each other again but they had. The world didn't feel so overwhelming when they felt connected, the threat hanging over their heads didn't feel so immense. The siren had finally slept, passing out for so long that his husband had to resort to resting their babes against his chest just to keep them fed. It was strange but he was thankful to see his wife feeling calmer. It had been a few days and the boy had slept for at least one of them but it had been a week since the vampire had appeared and… nothing. Gods it was starting to get on Kol's nerves. He didn't like waiting around for trouble.

He'd finally convinced Dom to leave the bedroom and they'd left the children under Mod and Tom's care. Ciarán was running around their feet, still stuck in his wolf form but he was obviously happy to be free of their home. The Viking was glad to see his mate breathing fresh air and they felt clean and cuddly after a shared bath and a little fun. "I missed you ástin min." He sighed softly, wrapping his arm around his lover's shoulders. Thankfully Dom didn't take the statement wrong and instead smiled up at him, twining his fingers with his daidí's where they rest on his skin.

"I missed me too." The selkie huffed honestly before shaking his head. "But I missed you more. I didn't fink I could get tha' scared anymore. I don't know why I let 'em get in me 'ead like tha'. And now I've broken our son." He didn't mean to be so open but it was surprisingly easy with his husband. Who would have thought such a brute would have a big soft heart?

"You didn't break our son, look at him. He's happy. He's just being a good little alpha." The god wouldn't admit to worrying too, he hadn't seen his little boy's precious face in over a month and he couldn't convince him to shift back. He was sure if he could access the same power in himself he could force it, but he didn't want the kid traumatized. Cia was trotting in front of them, his tail wagging and his nose close to the ground. Honestly he was one of the cutest things the man thought he'd ever seen but that didn't mean he didn't miss his human form.

"He shouldn't feel like he needs to be. We got a bloody alpha already, he can calm 'is fluffy arse down! I don't want 'im growing up too fast." The fae whined, resting his head against his mate's chest as they strolled together.

"Damn straight. I don't think he can help it though. He feels our stress. Let's just hope Kiva and Quinny don't go this hard so young or we'll be overrun." The alpha teased, nuzzling his lover's hair.

"Oh gods no, I can't 'andle fhree teen alphas at the same time. I refuse." Dom giggled, shaking his head and half hiding against his daidí's chest. "'Ey yours at tha' point."

"Sure, as long as you raise the omegas. But it's cute you think I'm not breeding you again soon." The god's voice dropped to a growl and the fae shivered in his hold, almost tripping over himself. He was honestly surprised he hadn't felt the beginnings of his heat yet and that Kol hadn't already started teasing about whelping him. With that promise though they felt so much closer to their normal selves and it soothed something tight in Dom's chest. "Maybe make it an even ten?" Kol'son's hand disappeared from his shoulder and caressed it's way down his spine and the boy whimpered when that strong palm cupped his ass and squeezed.

The siren made a noise like a squeak but at the same moment their son barked and darted off for the tree line, shattering any play his parents were about to get up to. "Shite! Where'd he go?" The fae sighed, at first just from exasperation but when they lost track of the sound of his voice Dom felt nerves make his belly flip.

Kol'son's ears would have twitched if he were in his other form but as it was he tried to still himself and listen. His hand didn't move from it's bruising grip on his wife's ass, if anything he was hoping the pup would come right back and he could resume his attempt to fuck the fae against a tree but- "I can't hear him." He was focusing so hard on that one sense that he picked up the moment Dom's nerves turned to true anxiety when his heart started racing in his chest. He finally released the boy and pet gently up his back before letting go, ready to search out their son but they didn't have to.

"Hi daddy! Miss me?" A soft voice that was so sweet and fake it turned Kol's stomach sounded from the trees before she stepped into view, Cia tight in her hold.

The Viking couldn't help making a face and gagging at what she called him but it turned to a growl when he saw his little alpha. "Megna, put him down." He couldn't keep his voice level, he was honestly surprised he wasn't already ripping her throat out but he didn't want Ciarán to see him that brutal. Yet.

"Daidí-" Dom choked on his words, fear was clogging his throat and rage burning through his veins. His husband stepped in front of him but he couldn't help trying to peek around. He knew he shouldn't have let the babe leave their room. He knew he shouldn't have left.

'I've got it okay? When I tell you to run? Run.' The god's voice floated through his mind and he tried to nod but he couldn't leave their son. Sweat broke out over his skin, all his instincts telling him to do just that and escape but he couldn't. He wasn't sure why he felt that way anyway, he was always drawn to protect his young before himself.

"Aww but he's just so fluffy! Maybe I'll keep him as a pet." The bitch had the nerve to purr and Cia answered her with a snarl right next to her face. The pair couldn't help but feel pride but they knew she would just as soon hurt him as let him go. "Bad puppy. What else would I expect when the two of you are training him?" She huffed, rolling her eyes.

When the wolf went to nip her Kol could see her hand moving to slap his nose and he had to hold his wife back. He wasn't used to his own power and at times it scared him but he attempted to use it, snapping his fingers and praying the babe could escape. The moment happened so fast, almost a blink of an eye but he felt fur against his back and Megna was empty handed. Her bee stung lips pouted and her fox gaze landed on him like prey. 'Run.' He thought to his mate but before Dom could obey, a new voice echoed through the circle.

"I don't think so. Your mate shouldn't leave you alone with a woman, we all know how much a brute you are." It purred through the trees and the Viking furrowed his brow. Why did she sound so fucking familiar? The sound went straight through his body and he was ashamed at how his dick twitched. He thought he knew exactly who was talking, this was the god his mate had been promised to. But why did it feel like someone he'd always known?

Dom swallowed hard and pulled their pup close to his chest as he watched a goddess step up behind Megna. "Áine." He whispered, he couldn't help it. He knew who it was, he could feel it down to his bones that ached in her presence. Nothing about her felt kind or loving. He was honestly surprised she wasn't oozing black goo. He wouldn't bow to her though, he refused to show any respect for someone who could act as she did.

"Damhnaic. Don't worry, I don't want your alphas. I'll get you a puppy though Meg, would you like that?" The woman purred, kissing the human's cheek. She was- Dom supposed- objectively pretty, but not to him. He knew what that threat meant, she wanted their omegas but he'd fight to the death to protect them. Her dark eyes snapped to him, her lips curling in a smirk as she looked him up and down. He could see her entire form through the slip dress she wore but that was normal for his home. If he didn't know how disgusting they both were he might find them attractive but as it was… "You're sickened by us? You just thought that you would die for me, that doesn't sound like you're disgusted."

"I thought I would die to protect me kids from you! Do not mistake me mind when you steal fhoughts from it." The siren was surprised at himself but since his husband seemed to be frozen someone had to deal with them. "I'm sure someone else can bear ya children Áine, even Megna! Can't you jus' leave us alone? We won't come for you."

She laughed at that, a full throated deep sound that danced on his skin and gave him goosebumps. His heart leapt into his throat and choked him. "I don't think so sweet boy, she's human. Besides, you were made for me." Before he could take a breath she had vanished and appeared again in front of them, her hand outstretched to pet his cheek. "I don't like when my toys leave. Besides, she's already starting to bore me but I told her I'd get her revenge."

"Oh? And 'ow ya gonna do tha'? Kill us?" He spat, he swore he could feel his skin vibrating with her so close. His stomach was in knots and he felt nauseous. Even her scent smelled wicked. She should have smelled like fresh spring but instead she held the sickly sweet stench of decay. No wonder their land back home was dying, their goddess was turning bad.

"Of course not. She wanted you broken and Kol'son alone. I want you making me more omegas." She hummed, tilting her head as she glanced down at his belly before she finally looked to his husband. "I can do that so easily. Hello Kol, did you miss me boy?" She shifted her attention to him, her claws petting his cheek.

Kol'son bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He wanted to shift and grab his family and run but he was frozen to the spot. He could feel his lover's confusion and he hated it. In his mind he was begging the universe she didn't say what he knew she was about to. They didn't hide anything from each other, he'd told his wife about his conquests but… there was no way he could fathom that. He knew it would break his queen's heart. "No."

"It's not nice to lie to your first love. Does your pretty little omega know I taught you everything you know about pleasing a woman?" The Viking growled, she was exaggerating but it didn't matter. As a boy she had taken his innocence and they'd shared an intense night together. He'd always thought about her but how could he know? How could he fucking have predicted this?

Dom felt dizzy, his head was swimming with thoughts he couldn't quell. This goddess had touched his lover before- before- oh gods had she seen his future? Did she know? His skin felt soaked in sweat and before he could stop himself he was stepping back and dropping to his knees to be sick. It wasn't that they'd slept together though, he wasn't that easily jealous or so simple to break. No, it was the fact he knew his poor husband had been so young and she was magic. Gods how long had she been torturing them both? And where were his parents?

"Meg sweetheart, take me somewhere to rest while we wait for the rest of our party? They'll arrive by boat soon. Kol, you should visit our bed later. If you think we had fun when you were young…" She winked, cupping his jaw with her claws and holding him still as shs forced a kiss against his lips. "You taste like bitch. My bitch. Yummy. How sad you've already ruined him. Now be a good puppy and welcome your in-laws. Remember, we're a visiting kingdom and you must be diplomatic." She purred, slapping his cheek but he kept from moving his head. He might not be able to speak against her yet but he wouldn't cower to her either.

Dom felt tears well his eyes as he heard the women disappear. His son was licking his cheeks and trying to soothe him but he felt mad with grief. The moment they were free the Viking dropped to kneel and tried to comfort his mate but he was scared to touch him. Maybe she had broken something between them. "I'm so sorry-" The siren choked out between sobs, throwing himself against the man's chest. "She 'urt you for me." He sniffled while the god just stared at him wide eyed. He'd been prepared to grovel for forgiveness. He'd remembered her mostly fondly all these years and he remembered telling Dom what an experience it had been. The first woman he'd bedded, the only pussy he'd been inside when not bleeding before his wife. He was so ready to say he was sorry but he didn't know how to handle the boy blaming himself. All he could do was shake his head and try to comfort his love and their son. Fuck he just wanted to get them home safely.

Author's Note/Tags: @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @manicpixiedreamb0y @cole-way-iero28 @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Eep! A little angst and plot to spice up the story. Our boys are strong though! They can handle it. Just in case you were wondering, yes I'm picturing Halsey for Áine. I hope you're still enjoying the story! 🖤☠️

[cowboyjen68]

Dear Jen, I don’t know who else to talk to about this..I was seeing this amazing butch woman for a few months. She was the first butch I’ve dated who’s treated me with respect and has been emotionally open with me- I felt so safe and cared for with her. We weren’t official or anything, but I felt like I could be her femme and I was starting to develop stronger feelings.

She ended things about 2 months ago due to our age gap, almost 8 years part, and her saying that she couldn’t give me the serious relationship I wanted at that moment. I respected her honesty and how gentle she was with my feelings. She assured me I hadn’t done anything wrong and that she’s very attracted to me, and that she eventually wants us to be friends.

I’ve told her not to text me, even friendly texts because it hurts to be in contact with her..I’m trying to give myself space from her and have have started dating again…but I miss her so much and these other women I’m seeing just aren’t her..they don’t have her warmth or charm or humor…I feel like if I try to be friends with her I’ll just be torturing myself and I’ll always be longing for more

I am sorry that you are hurting and I completely understand loosing a woman you are deeply in love with. That stupid saying "sometimes love is not enough" is accurate and I hate it.

It is always a bit of a balancing act to not want to loose contact, even breifly but also getting distance to heal. All of my exes/women I breifly dated are now my friends (although my ex wife passed away we were friends to an extent). We all took time to heal by getting some distance and then we came back around to appreciate the history we shared.

However, my last girlfriend is also my best friend. I have never been so in love in my life. Not that I didn't love my other girlfriends but I was perhaps not in the space to be completely open to giving my trust, heart and soul and they were also not in a space to return those wholeheartedly. And not of them were a "just perfect fit" but more of a "yeah this is ok" kind of relationship.

We have made the decision to not break contact because that pain is too much. It has been a year and few months and, while I am still in love and I believe she is too, we are able to navigate friendship pretty well. Once she decides to date I will have to cross that heartbreak bridge when we come to it. I don't feel like dating is something I care to do now. That might change. It might not, but my heart is not open for another right now.

That all being said I am 54 and pretty settled in life with jobs, a mortgage, a teenager and a focus on some life goals that I have put off for too long. You are probably younger, less finite in your path.

You are not obligated to date right now. If you need time to not date that is okay. You will probably heal faster if you take time away from the other woman. The hardest part about continued contact is that every time you speak or text a small part of you, whether on purpose or not, thinks "maybe we can make it work" or "perhaps she will see we belong together"

Human nature is often to find hope in a situation that hurts if the answer is finite. A little bit of" maybe" is easier that "no".

As hard as it is may be, take some time away. It does not have to be forever. And she absolutely sounds like a respectul and caring woman who will give you space and leave the ball in your court so when you are ready for friendship you can reach out.

Time and distance might help you feel better about dating but you are under no obligation or time line to do that. If you need to let yourself hurt for a while don't fight it too much. It is okay to not try to "get over her" as fast as possible. Big butch hugs from me to you.

[heskzy]

i knew it would be worth it

as soon as i saw the "complexity of emotions" paragraph and all its "(insecurities, grief, nostalgia, love and sacrifice). angst. comfort. hope and healing" i knew it would be completely worth it, to wait, to stay awake, to read all 17.8k words of it. because now it's 1.30am for me and i'm crying, trying to suppress sobs into my pillow not to wake up my sister and it's not your fault - it's thanks to you.

because i thought it would be another heart warming sahar-like fic where i could look the world with tender eyes again, and i found myself in a sahar-like fic, but the one thay breaks you word by word and then helps you slowly not only to heal those wounds but also the ones you had been carrying for too long. i yearn the kind of love they have, but i want to show you your angel through my eyes, if you'll let me.

first of all, your writing is a reflection of who you are as a person. english is not my first language, and i sometimes find it difficult to understand some words, and their meaning, specially in some high quality narratives - like yours - where i usually need to search up for definitions. yours feels like a fresh breath of air, like poetry i just feel with out needing to look for what you mean. every word is in its place, like you traced the story with your angelic mind and then just sew sentences one after the other. they belong together, and they belong to you. they sound like taylor swift literature, and i swear i can read your fics with all my five senses.

and second of all, despite being partly a love story, the hope and healing was the part that truly helped me tonight. i'm a 19 yo teenager that still has to figure out what is she going to do with her life. i'm trying to heal from too many wounds, while learning to live life to the fullest. this fic was a moment of peace with my inner child.

(tw: not really but depression & bullying, i'm sorry, you don't have to read this 🫶🏼 have a super nice day my love)

i'm not going to talk about a past that i still remember, and forgive me if i make no sense - i truly should be sleeping right now kdbwkfjw. your angel through my eyes was my 7yo. 7yo mars, who was too new to her life, and whose experiences at school were horrible, with a heart that weighted too much to carry, both from unshared love and withering mistrust. and after all those years between the moment i became introvert and silent and off to the world, it came the 17yo mars that almost fell into depression, too lost and insecure and sad to even think about what life could offer.

i can say now i'm lucky enough to keep a genuine smile on my face most of the days. and this story you so selflessly shared with us made me think of felix as my 7yo and our girl as my 17yo, both helping each other heal to make me become the person i am now.

because with senteces like “humans are always hurt. their heart bruises more than their body would ever endure.” and the quiet “are you looking for hope too?” (“i come here and imagine as if the moon shines only for me.” / “most of the time it feels as if it’s shining for everyone but me.”) and “i guess I'm just tired of believing things will get better instead of feeling better.” make me remember what i felt when i was hitting rock bottom, those feelings i still allow to come back for a while, but i know now how to overcome.

and with “if the pain passes then i won’t have anything to remember her by,” / “i regret losing her, not loving her. mever loving her.” i remember all the friendships i lost and the friends that lost me, even if sometimes i was guilty for the absence of them and other times just a victim, because i truly enjoyed my time with them even if they're not with me anymore.

and finally, with “happiness won’t come to you, yongbok. it doesn’t come knocking on our doors. you’ll have to search for it. especially on days when everything seems grim and dark, you’ll have to squint your eyes and find it in the small things all around you. and when you do, hold on to them with all your might. even if your hand bleeds, you hold on just as tightly.” you make me smile, widely, quietly, because she's right, you're right. and for all the experiences i've had, all the situation i've gone through, i can say i'm successfully achieving that view of the world.

i know you probably hear this a lot - i've said it already a lot - but thank you. for all that you do, for all that you share. for waking up in the mornings and not giving up. for enduring all the dark times and coming back stronger, even if you're not aware of it. for keep writing when you felt like dying, and for helping me recover faith when i didn't even know i had started to losing it. you are an amazing person, sahar. never forget that 🤍

The prophecy- I.

ꕥ summary: when an angel becomes enthralled by the prospect of emotions, he falls into your world hoping you’d teach him how to be human. little does he know, there's no safety net awaiting him below.

ꕥ pairing: fallen angel!yongbok x fem human!reader.

ꕥ genre: slow burn. heavy themes relating to the complexity of emotions (insecurities, grief, nostalgia, love and sacrifice). angst. comfort. hope and healing. the members are included in the fic as well.

ꕥ warnings: plot installment. mention of alcohol and drinking, description of scars, self-loathing thoughts.

ꕥ word count: 17.8k.

Next. Series Masterlist.

authors note: this fic is my absolute baby. it is heavily inspired by Black Friday by Tom Odell, or rather my interpretation of its lyrics. angel felix is so so special to me, i got the opportunity to be very vulnerable while writing, so i hope you enjoy reading this first part as much as i enjoyed writing it. feedback is highly appreciated <3 this is for @forlix my angel who birthed this fic with me, and for @catboyanon for being my icon 💞 i love you guys 🫶🏻 thank you for reading!!!!!!

the series taglist is open! comment or send me an ask if you wish to be added— @linosssss @agi-ppangx @hwangism143 @httpdwaekki @booksndpoetry @courtnort455 @tonystenk @felixsbakingbud @oyinii @seungzsmin @kayleefriedchicken @freyjhasdesiredreality @babrieeee @nyasstars @lovefool-lix @velvetmoonlght @hash2013 @caticorn61 @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @minhosbitterriver @dorisnumber1fan @goldenmellow

Act 1. Everything comes with a price.

“So for once in my life, let me get what I want, Lord knows it would be the first time”- Please, please, please, let me get what I want, The Smiths.

Yongbok's existence has been a steady current of nothingness. 

He has known no low, yet simultaneously, no high. Has never stood at the edge of the world nor cradled it within his palm. He is a straight line, knowing no bumps on its road, crafted to stretch forward, and then some more, indefinitely. 

That is until you were assigned to him— his human to keep safe, to protect.

That is when Yongbok then realized that, all along, he had felt nothing— that there was a void overtaking his being, an absence of something, rather than what he had always known to be the norm. 

Yongbok knew the rules, he knew what his existence entailed— that it was one entwined with yours, that once you’d both turn eighteen he’d sense it when you were in danger, each time you were in physical pain. So, he’d protect you, hover above you like a halo, keep you out of harm's way.

He also knew that it would happen unexpectedly. His one friend Seungmin described it as a minor nuisance, a thorn that needs to be plucked out, a bad weed that has overgrown. “You'll help your human and it’ll be back to normal.” 

Yet, for Yongbok it wasn't merely a lone thorn, nor a solitary weed, but rather, a myriad of nuisances falling upon him at once— akin to a deluge of rain pouring as soon as the sky’s gates part. A throbbing so intense it made him falter in his strides, made his golden wings envelop him, as if to cage this unfamiliar feeling, to stop it from seeping from his body and soiling the azure skies. 

It was the first time you had called out to him, it was the first time he would see you in. He imagined you’d be in agonizing pain, skirting the edges of death on a final dance with the devils. But, you were on your bed, curled around yourself the way his wings enfolded his body. Sobs rippled from you, an undulating cascade of waves that almost drowned you in sorrow. 

You weren’t in danger. You weren’t in physical pain. So why was he here? 

Why had he felt it when you simply cried? 

Yongbok hovered near your door, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t in the rules he had learned— guardian angels do not deal with emotions, they do not feel the woes of the heart. “Humans are always hurt. Their heart bruises more than their body would ever endure. It is something we cannot control, nor can we help them with it”— those were the words of Christopher, the sovereign of all guardian angels, ones tattooed in the back of Yongbok’s mind.

“They do not affect us,” he had asserted, his voice maintaining its customary tranquility.

So why was Yongbok feeling the bruising of your heart?

He pondered for a fleeting moment before making a soft breeze ripple through your hair. You looked up from your bed, eyes cast outside the window, as a sunbeam delicately landed on your face. To his surprise, that seemed to halt your tears.  

In that instant, the weight on Yongbok’s heart suddenly dissipated, like a morning fog chased away by the sun. 

“So, this isn’t normal?” he asked Seungmin upon his return, who blinked at him once, then twice. 

“No. It must be part of your anomaly.” 

His anomaly, what explains Seungmin being his only friend. But his loneliness did not bother him, the perk of never feeling.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Yongbok sighed, circling the rim of his glass with his pointer finger. “Should I tell… you know.”

“Keep it to yourself.” Seungmin’s voice was stern, biting, leaving no room for Yongbok to object. 

So he did not. 

He kept it to himself, for the past five years, a diligent secret he’s gotten better at hiding. You were surprisingly a good human to guard, you never burned yourself, crossed the road while looking at both sides, and did not frequent shady places at 4 a.m. 

But your heart weighed so much on your soul.

You cried an average of one hundred and sixty-five times per year, sixty of which being heart-wrenching sobs that almost paralyzed him, made the feathers of his wings wither down and scatter on the ground like sakura petals. 

“Is it normal for her to cry this much?” he had asked Seungmin who had simply shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I don’t befriend humans.” he sighed before adding. “Why does she cry?”

“Other people hurt her.” 

“Then she’s stupid for repeating the same process.”

“Isn’t it fascinating, though? She knows the outcome might be the same, and yet–”

“Do you wish to befriend her?” Seungmin had cut him off, eyes narrowing down slightly. There was a hint of warning in his tone, a danger ringing somewhere near. You know where this path will lead you. 

“No,” he replied quickly. He never brought you up again after that. 

But his fascination with you did not die. Though, it wasn’t you, per se, that intrigued him. More so what you were feeling, every emotion that ran freely through your being. It was as if he perched on the precipice of your soul, drinking the droplets of emotions that escaped your being. Feeling through you, an extension of your very existence.

It wasn’t only the throbbing when you hurt, it was also a satisfaction when he made you smile again. Through a sunbeam falling perfectly atop you, a rainbow appearing above your head, a star shining more brightly as your eyes found it. Each time your heart bled dry and you begged for a sign, he was there, conjuring up one of you, smiling as you smiled, inching closer to you as the months went by. 

What if the sign was him? What if he showed you he was there all along? 

Would you smile at him too? 

These were dangerous questions swirling in his head, translating into even more harmful actions. Like getting closer to trespassing the line between your world and his, drawn by that fascination, that thirst to know more, to feel more. 

To talk to you. 

But it was all but wishful thinking, it is all thoughts he buried within himself, his body becoming the graveyard of his life— through which he breathes and through which he dies. 

Until tonight.

Yongbok felt that same familiar throbbing overtaking his being, only this one was much more intense, so much so he couldn’t hide the discomfort on his face, twisted in agony at the pain overriding you. He expected to find the telltales of your sadness draped on your being— teary eyes and shaky hands, pouting lips and the scrunch of your eyebrows that he’s come to memorize. 

But to his surprise, he finds you perched upon an abandoned rooftop overlooking Han River, the moon casting its shimmering reflection above its surface. You weren’t frowning, nor blinking rapidly to dispel your tears. Instead, you sat there, gazing at the river below, legs dangling over the edge, your face as placid as the water before you. However, the burden on your heart was unmistakable, a weight he recognized because he, too, bore it. 

He stops for a second, making a gentle rain graze your skin, light enough to feel like an embrace rather than a nuisance. He knew you loved these light showers as you always chased them, tilting your head to the sky as if thanking it for allowing the rain to visit, even for a fleeting moment. 

But this time, you remain unmoving, eyes still fixated on the water, as if you wished it would rise from its place and carry you with it underneath.

You look like an angel, for you feel nothing, numbness seizing your being and trapping it into its hold, just as it does for him. 

“Sometimes the human’s enemy is itself. They inflict harm upon their souls the most, sometimes even death.” He remembers the somber sayings of Christopher and then the question Jeongin asked, echoing the concerns that gripped everyone’s thoughts.

“Can we still save them from themselves?” 

“Not always. We can be too late.” 

You inch closer to the edge of the building, and Yongbok wonders if you had felt too much there was no other emotion your heart could pump out for you anymore, no life for it to breathe in you. 

Can humanity disintegrate once it pains you too much? Can you turn it off in a desperate bid for survival? Would it still be a life if you do not feel in it? 

“I’m not going to jump if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your cold voice startles him, and he looks around quizzically, wondering who you are talking to. But it is only the both of you atop the roof, and his wings are gone, the golden light that usually contours his being subdued. 

The realization dawns upon him – you can see him, and you are speaking to him. Yongbok feels the stirrings of his heart, a singular beat that resounds in his chest for the very first time.

“I’m not worried,” he replies, after painstakingly long seconds. His voice sounds different, deeper as it floods his ears. I can’t worry, he decides against adding. “Besides,” he clears his throat, walking over to you, his hands resting on the railing. “You can’t die from here. You’ll just break your bones. Get paralyzed, at most.” 

“What are you? A death connoisseur?” you snort, a small life seeping through your voice again as you finally look at him. 

“Something of the sort.”

“This makes you sound like a serial killer,” you sigh, a heavy breath pulled from the depths of his heart. “But you don’t look like one.”

“I don’t?” he questions. 

“No. You look kind.” 

Kind. Yongbok has been draped in a myriad of adjectives since his creation, ones that hang above him like a somber cloud, imprinted on his skin with ink visible to everyone but himself. ‘Abomination’ was the one that came back the most. But you described him as kind. 

What do you see in me? He wants to ask. Tell me so I can look for it when I see myself.

He’s acutely aware that he’s breaking the rules, his wings itching to fledge out and carry him away. But he forcefully keeps them at bay. Not now. Just a little more.

“Are you looking for hope too?” you ask, your voice much quieter than when you last spoke. Yongbok now sees it— the numbness wearing off and leaving place to an agonizing sadness, its essence is poured in your eyes alone, dull under the marvelous city lights. 

“Hope?” he echoes, the word tasting foreign in his mouth. 

“Mm,” you hum, drawing one knee to your chest while letting the other dangle, straddling an invisible line between your two worlds. “I come here and imagine as if the moon shines only for me.”

“That's not true.”

“I know,” you giggle quietly, your laugh swiftly morphing into a pout. “Most of the time it feels as if it’s shining for everyone but me.”

“I don’t think the moon cares enough to single you out.”

“That's somewhat comforting to hear.”

Running a hand through your hair, you speak again. “I don’t usually talk to strangers,” you confess, lifting the nearly empty soju bottle in your left hand. “I’m just a bit drunk, and really sad,” you whisper, as if entrusting him with a secret, an admission that the universe can be cruel in the fates it deals out. He knows that more than most.

“I don't mind,” he inches closer to you, his curious eyes casting over your gloomy figure. “So, you come here looking for hope?”

“It's a bit silly, right?” you smile sheepishly, and he shakes his head. 

“Silly, no. It’s just unrealistic to look for something that is not tangible.”

“Everything that is good in life cannot be grasped with our hands.”

He knows nothing of all these good things you speak of, so he remains silent.

“You know what’s funny? Each time I ask for a sign I find it.”

Each time you call out for him he is there. 

“Is that so?” 

You take a big gulp from your drink, setting it down as your tone grows melancholic with each word. “Yeah. I think I've seen more butterflies in the past five years than the average person does in a lifetime.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” he asks tentatively, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. What if, all along, in his attempts to pull you up he has only been drowning you further? 

“It is. It makes me believe that things will turn out better, in the end,” you share, pausing briefly as if attempting to contain your words. It’s only a moment later that you continue, “I guess I'm just tired of believing things will get better instead of feeling better.”

He was a temporary patch-up, a band-aid made of silk threads destined to wear off with time. Guardian angels cannot help with the woes of the heart. For all their immortality, they fall short before the power of emotions, kneel in surrender at the altar of humanity. 

But on your darkest night— your black Friday where the sky resembles an abyss in which every star has fizzled out, he does not want to leave you without hope. 

“Maybe you just need better signs,” he whispers, as a hoard of butterflies swivels before your eyes, a kaleidoscope of colorful wings fluttering in the hopes of breathing life into you once again. 

“Butterflies don’t show up at night…” you marvel in hushed tones, your eyes darting everywhere to take in the magical scenery. 

“Did you do this?” you’re breathless as you turn to ask but no one’s near anymore. 

The heaviness in your heart has dissolved, not entirely, but enough for Yongbok to dismiss it as a fleeting nuisance, a stubborn weed, a lone thorn that he deftly plucked away.

…

Yongbok has not stopped thinking of your conversation, the steadiness in your voice as you spoke of hope, of good things that elude your gaze but infuse your existence with sweetness. He knew that he broke the rules by speaking to you, that there are but severe cases in which an angel is allowed to address their human. Sadness, no matter how profound, was not one of them. And yet, for all the years he spent abiding by the rules, he had not regretted talking to you, not once. 

He had memorized the cadence of your voice, the sheer glaze in your eyes as they held his, the way you drowned yourself in alcohol, nose scrunching at its bitter taste. Everything about you, he learned, committing it to his memory that was once a blank canvas, for he had never lived something worth remembering, for he had never strayed from the straight path, drawn out eons ago for him. 

Until you. 

It is the following Friday and Yongbok hovers near a bar, his eyes absorbing the sight of the drunk humans mingling in there. Some of them are laughing, clinking half-empty glasses as they cheer loudly, Others, too busy pressing their lips against one another to dare dream of forgetting this moment. And then some sitting alone, their gaze fixated on the liquid within their glass, as if it holds the key to all their unanswered prayers. Foolish behavior, but he is drawn to the mundanity of it, for some odd reason. 

He draws in a deep breath, before concealing his celestial wings and venturing into the dimly lit bar. He sits by a stool, curiously eyeing the array of alcohol on display. “What can I get you?” the bartender asks and he responds with a nonchalant shrug. “Strongest thing you have.” After all, inebriation is an experience beyond his grasp.

The abrupt sound of glass meeting the counter startles him, and he turns to his left. There, he discovers a young man, roughly his age, signaling the bartender for another pour. Ebony hair pulled into a small ponytail, a furrowed brow shaping his lips into a frown, the man’s gaze remains fixed on the scattered droplets of Whiskey across the counter. In the faint light, Yongbok spots a mole by his jaw, then another one underneath his eye. 

“Bad night?” Yongbok inquires, clearing his throat, a thrill coursing through him at the prospect of talking with another human.

“Kinda,” the stranger sighs, turning around to face him. “I’m Hyunjin,” he says, extending his hand with a lopsided smile.

He firmly shakes it, before introducing himself back, “Yongbok.” 

“Yongbok, mm… Feelbok,” Hyunjin slurs, “no, no, Hanbok,”— happiness— Hyunjin giggles at his own words punctuating them with a thumbs-up. “Nice name.”

“Thank you,” Yongbok mirrors his smile, although the gesture happens more naturally than he expected. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, as he watches Hyunjin down yet another glass.

“I should be,” he mumbles, before placing his chin atop his palm, gaze lost somewhere far in the depths of his mind.

Yongbok remains silent as Hyunjin blinks slowly, a sad smile imprinted into his mouth. “I opened my art gallery today. It was acclaimed by all the art critics who visited. They said it was moving, woven with emotions that are translated into every choice I made, from the colors to the blending to the lighting.”

Yongbok frowns, a sudden confusion settling over him as he detects the sorrow dripping from Hyunjin’s tone. He realizes that his expression mirrors the same loneliness he witnessed in you countless times before. Humans, it seems, resemble each other at their most vulnerable.

“But…” he continues, prompted by Yongbok’s silence or the strong alcohol, he doesn’t really know. “All these people came but not the one I painted for.”

Ah, Yongbok now understands what drives Hyunjin’s sadness— love. The irony of humans strikes him; for the one feeling they crave ends up hurting them the most.

“Every painting was about her and she wasn’t there to see it,” Hyunjin confesses as anguished tears suddenly well in his eyes. He cannot conjure hope for Hyunjin, for he is not his human to guard, so Yongbok mimics what he witnessed you do countless times to your friends. He places a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“It will pass,” Yongbok reassures, not with a misplaced sense of optimism, but because it is an undeniable truth. Humans forget as much as they remember, grieve as much as they love, heal as much as they hurt. In their short life, everything they go through passes. It is how they survive the hurts of the heart.

“I don’t want it to. If the pain passes then I won’t have anything to remember her by,” Hyunjin smiles sadly, patting Yongbok’s hand above his own. 

“Don’t you regret loving her?” he asks, perplexed by the breathing contradiction before him. 

“I regret losing her, not loving her. Never loving her.” 

As he stood on the same rooftop you were on nights ago, Yongbok is left with Hyunjin’s sleek business card held between his fingers, and a dull longing in his heart, many, many hours later.

Can a straight line stray from its path? Can his void be replaced with love? 

At what cost can an angel taste humanity? 

“Our kind yongbok.” A calm voice speaks and the wings on Yongbok’s back twitch more intensely than they’ve ever done. The danger Seungmin spoke of was here.

At what cost could he not? 

“Christopher,” Yongbok bows in respect, eyes refusing to meet those of his senior. 

“You had no problem looking at all these humans, no?” Christopher muses and Yongbok takes one step back. Chris knows, he has always known and yet he allowed it. 

Why?

“Fascinating creatures, right? I still fail to understand them. But what I do know for certain is that they are weak,” he pauses, Yongbok’s breath hitches in his throat. “Just like you.” 

Yongbok’s nails dig forcefully into his palms, it does not soothe his nerves the way it does to you. 

“But see, the difference between you and them is that they were crafted to be weak. Then again… everything about you is abnormal, you agree?” Chris speaks assuredly, his tongue telling facts alone. Yongbok remains silent, anticipating his punishment for trespassing into the human realm, for breaking the sacred rule of interacting with them.

Tales of chained angels, of those stripped of their wings, their bloodied feathers plucked out one by one haunt his thoughts. This is the closest Yongbok has gotten to fear. 

In a blink, Chris materializes before him, his hand resting on Yongbok’s shoulder, reminiscent of the comforting gesture he extended to Hyunjin. However, this hold is not reassuring; it bears a weight that spells danger with every squeeze. 

“Do you want to feel what humans do? Go, Yongbok, I won’t punish you. Roam with them, talk to them, and feel.”

Yongbok’s wings scatter with the wind, feathers falling like a curtain of white upon their heads. He falls to his knees, hand brought up to his chest as he suddenly senses everything surrounding him— the bitter wind brushing against his skin and the rush of hot blood coursing within his veins, the loud ringing of cars that morph into hands choking him, and worse of all, the loss of his wings that his spine seems to be weeping for. 

“But remember, everything comes with a price,” Christopher’s polished shoes come into his view— Yongbok does not recognize the distorted reflection staring back. “Even weakness.” 

Act two. The heart weighs heavily on those who bear it.

“If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy” - Neptune, Sleeping At Last.

Delicate snowflakes descend upon the earth, intricate crystals forming a pristine blanket that veils the ground, concealing its flaws to the naked eye. The snow doesn’t discriminate, it falls atop every building in Seoul, from towering skyscrapers adorned with luminous billboards to the humblest abodes, nestled in concealed alleys, all bathed in a bluish glow at the heights of the night. 

And in its fall, the snow does not leave Yongbok’s body behind, draping it in a cloak of icy tendrils, ones that seep through bones he did not know were capable of aching before. It mingles with his golden feathers, scattered all over the rooftop, tinged with his spilled blood. The crimson liquid oozes from his back to the ground, and in his first seconds as a human, Yongbok has already tainted the purity of the soil, he is already a nuisance, in this world too.

He is faintly aware of warm hands cradling his cheeks, attempting to infuse life into his pallid face. A kaleidoscope of blurry hues obscures his vision, and he is no longer sure how much time has passed since Christopher abandoned him on the unforgiven ground. It could have been mere minutes or lengthy hours— he is yet to be acquainted with how time passes on humans. 

He also cannot recall you coming into the rooftop, does not remember when you pulled his head onto your lap, nor began combing your fingers soothingly through his golden locks. You are worried, he can still feel the pulsing of your heartbeat ringing in his ears, or maybe it is his own, he still cannot distinguish what is yours and what is his. 

He’s in a haze, standing on the edge of a window, assaulted by biting winds that cut through him. He didn’t expect humanity to crash onto him this hard, for it to force oxygen onto his lungs only to set them ablaze. 

“You’re awake, you’re okay.” Your reassuring words break through the disorienting daze, your hand firmly clasping his, guiding him away from the window’s edge, ushering him back into safety. In the familiarity of your voice, the winds relent, morphing into gentle zephyrs that cool the burning storm within him. He can feel the softness of your hand, your thumb swirling around his palm as if drawing out a soothing spell with your touch. 

“H… hurts,” he stammers, the words escaping between breaths that struggle to find passage. He brings your palm atop his heart, where a myriad of stones seem to have found refuge, crushing his lungs and rendering them a cloud of useless dust, scattered away by the wind. 

“It’s okay. You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay,” your voice is calm, though it speaks of frightening things. Would what he felt pass now that you put a name to it? Was it supposed to reassure him to hear that panic, like an uninvited intruder, has seized his being and is attacking it relentlessly? A secret ambush, a Trojan horse infiltrating his body under the guise of humanity. 

“Help me,” his plea echoes weakly, an awkward sound that clashes with the very air particles, imprinting itself onto the oxygen you inhale. Is this what Christopher meant? Were his weaknesses only going to surge forth more now? 

Is the cost of humanity facing the ugliness within you? 

The questions swirl in his head like a relentless tornado, drowning out your voice until it becomes a distant murmur in the backburner of his mind. His body rebels against him, ears amplifying the cacophony of his breaths, shaky hands refusing to be still, lungs constricting to the point of near collapse. He’s back before the window, dangling over its edge with one silky thread, worn out from the countless humans who had clung to it in desperation before.

His hand slips. You seize it before he falls.

“Breathe with me, focus on my voice,” you come to him like a calming tide, pulling him into safe shores. You’re so close your nose almost brushes with his own, your hands enveloping his icy fingers to anchor him back to you. He tries to mimic your slow inhales, tuning out all his tumultuous thoughts to focus solely on you.

Under the starry sky and the unyielding snow, and through the panic that captures his being, his gaze seems to fixate on the most mundane of things— the soft moonlight filtering through the strands of your hair, casting a faint halo around your figure. As you draw in deep breaths, encouraging him to follow suit, the thought crosses his mind – perhaps, you are his guardian angel now.

Time passes in this shared rhythm until, finally, you release his face, falling beside him on the snow. His breaths find a more regular cadence, mirroring yours, yet an ache persists in his chest, as if unseen hands continue to press down on his heart, squeezing it dry of its blood.

You run a hand through your face tiredly, eyes looking up at the expanse before you. “Fuck, I thought you were dying.” 

An apology lingers at the tip of his tongue, vocal cords itching to free the three syllables into the chilly air. But Yongbok has never apologized before, he doesn’t know how the words might crystallize in the cold. He isn’t sure he could bear witnessing their form now. 

“What happened?” he ventures, his voice small and fragile, his face turning slightly toward you. You appear like a crescent moon, soft and gentle even with only half of your face visible to him. 

“I came to the rooftop and I found you on the ground, surrounded by bloodied feathers and shaking from the cold,” you begin to explain only to freeze as if a crucial detail has just resurfaced in your memory. He knows what you’ll ask about before you speak. 

“What are these feathers?” your inquiry hangs in the air, your gaze still directed ahead. He remains silent, unsure of how to explain the inexplicable.  

“Who are you?” you press, and his reply comes in a single word, uttered vulnerably, “Yongbok.”

Please leave it at that. 

Your voice is softer, more resigned when you speak again.  “What are you?” 

He does not need to voice the truth. He could chuckle and say that he’s human, what else do you expect him to be, and his voice might shake from the unrehearsed lie but you would believe him, and then he’ll make sure your paths would never cross again. 

But a small part of him feels as if he does owe the truth to you. Because you cared for his well-being when you did not need to, gave up some of your warmth to infuse his being with it, sacrificed minutes of your time to make sure he’ll have sand left in his hourglass. 

So, he sucks in a deep breath, gathering the courage to unravel the truth. 

“I’m an angel. Your guardian angel. Or maybe was. I still don’t really know, yet.”

An incredulous laugh escapes your lips, gusts of powdery air materializing before him. “An angel?”

“Yes.”

“This is insane,”  you shake your head, your face buried in the same palms that had cradled his cheeks tenderly moments ago— his sail amidst the winds. 

“Is that how you managed to make all those butterflies appear that night?” you question, and he nods, shutting his eyes and releasing a strained exhale.

“So you’ve been guarding me all this time?” 

“Since you turned eighteen.”

He freezes as he wonders what you’ll say next— maybe you’ll ask him to disappear from your life, not one to wish to mingle with angels and their kindred, maybe you’ll leave him be in the snow, lonely as he has always been.

What he doesn’t expect is for your eyes to find his, compassion swimming in your gleaming irises, your voice dripping with concern as you ask him. “What happened to you, Yongbok?” 

There was no way for you to feel what he did, and yet you spoke as if you could— as if you peered into his heart and discovered it butchered and bruised, found thorns entangled around his veins instead of vines. 

“I don’t know,” he chokes out a sob, as sudden tears stream down his cheeks, salty as they infiltrate his mouth, drowning him from within. The tears refuse to cease even after he wipes them, one after the other, a futile gesture akin to pouring water into sand, an attempt to nurture something not meant to grow.

“It’s okay,” you smile, your eyes shimmering like a million fireflies in the night. He shakes his head, as more tears escape him in the guise of words. In all of the times he has seen you cry, he never fathomed he would have sobs racking his body, too. That tears would cascade like an unyielding waterfall, an earthquake shaking the planes of his body, rattling his bones with an intensity beyond what he believed humans could endure.

“It’s okay,” you repeat, cradling his face against the warmth of your neck, his tears seeping through your clothing. He is weeping, though he does not know what for. For nothing yet everything. For the loss of his wings and the birth of his heart. For the harshness of the ground and the softness of your hold. For the Yongbok who perished and the one who came to life. 

…

A fallen angel comes in various forms, some are entirely disgraced while others retain fragments of their celestial countenance. Yongbok, though deprived of his wings, did not lose his powers. He realized this when he instinctively healed the wounds on his back, the torn skin scarring in fleeting seconds. A small mercy bestowed upon him by Christopher, or so it seemed.

He will understand the reasons behind this act much later.

But for now, in his first breaths of humanity, when the echoes of his sobs have at last withdrawn from his being, leaving behind a lingering weariness, he is dealing with less stellar facets of his existence— the more mundane technicalities of it. 

“So, not to rub salt on the wound but I assume you also don’t have a place to stay in,” you ponder, waiting until he regains enough composure to grasp your words, ensuring they wouldn't float beyond his reach.

“No, I didn’t exactly prepare for this,” he winces, his gaze briefly meeting the scattered feathers on the ground. But not for too long, looking at them invited a grand sense of loss into his being, a sentiment too weighty for his fragile state to harbor. 

“You can stay at mine, and tomorrow we can start looking for a house for you?” you suggest, stretching out your tired limbs.

“You don’t… You don’t need to help me.”

Yongbok does need your help, you are the only human he knows and he is unfamiliar with how your kind acquire housing. And yet he finds himself at the crossroads between what his heart wants and what his tongue speaks of— ready to vehemently refuse your proposal to not inconvenience you, as if he’s a towering mountain poised to shoulder burdens when in reality, his being has never been this frail.

“You guarded me for five years,” you smile softly, effortlessly dispelling away his concerns like meaningless specks of dust. “It’s the least I could do.”

Stepping into your home was as familiar as walking into his own. He, unwittingly, memorized each nook and cranny of your place, a consequence of all the times he had lingered near— hovering, more accurately, above. So much so that he instinctively slips off his shoes and places them in your rack, mirroring the countless times he observed you perform the same task.

“So you really are my guardian angel,” you shudder quietly and he hums in questioning, turning to look at you, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you respond, perking up and adorning your lips with a swift smile. “Would you like something to eat?”

“I’m okay,” he whispers, attempting to shrink as much as possible in the confines of your place. He has never felt this much discomfort in his own body, as though the skin draped on his bones belonged to a stranger. 

“Well, I’m hungry so you’ll eat with me,” you say with a warm smile, putting your hair up in a quick bun before walking into the kitchen. You move seamlessly as if you are hosting a long-time friend rather than an angel you saved from possible hypothermia. 

“Buldak ramen?” you ask, hands resting on the counter.

“Sure,” he nods, settling atop the stool. 

He watches in silence as you bring the water to a boil, before pouring two servings of the instant noodles into it. You pause, thinking it over before adding two more. 

“How are you so nonchalant about this?” he blurts out, finally freeing the question that had been swirling and growing in his mind- an insatiable weed that needed to be plucked before it infested his brain completely.

“About having an angel in my house who was apparently cast away from the skies and has guarded me for the past five years without me knowing, and who somehow knows where my shoe closet is without me needing to share?” you ramble in one breath, the tightness in your chest palpable. “Yeah, I’m totally cool about that.”

“You’re totally not cool about that.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit sheepishly, settling on the stool before him. “I mean I am. A friend of mine met his guardian angel two years ago when he saved him from a horrible car accident. So, your existence does not freak me out, it’s common knowledge for us humans.” 

You bite your lip, averting your gaze from him to the painting adorning the wall above your couch—a bouquet of red roses where the petals seem dripping scarlet, resounding with passion and love, signed by H.

“It’s just… did you do something bad? For you to be left there alone?”

“Not bad,” he mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly. It suddenly seemed silly to explain to a human that he envied their humanity, the one thing most of them seem to despise. “I broke the rules by talking to you that night, then to another human, and I was punished for it. I think,” he adds hesitantly.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, redirecting your attention to the pot to turn off the heat. It makes breathing easier for him. “You think?” you echo.

“It’s what I wanted,” he whispers, a bit breathless, now frightened by this newfound reality. He kept his powers and yet he lost his wings— he cannot fly back to his home and yet he can conjure anything his mind wishes for. He is with the one human that sparked his fascination and yet he cannot stop thinking of the price Christopher mentioned. Thinking too much about any of these things brings tears back to his throat— his body yearning to produce a liquid it has never known before.

“So, I assume you’ve never watched Howl’s Moving Castle up there,” you abruptly shift the subject, a radiant smile gracing your face as you pour the ramen into two bowls, generously topping them off with cheese.

“No?” His response carries a hint of uncertainty, and a sudden wave of frustration washes over him for feeling so displaced in his own existence. Yet, you appear oblivious to the awkwardness emanating from him as you gasp enthusiastically, seizing the two bowls and making your way to the couch. 

“Oh, I think you’ll like it,” you beam, patting the spot next to you before taking the remote and queuing up the movie.

The meal tastes better than anything Yongbok has ever eaten in his life, each bite igniting his taste buds in a symphony of flavors, akin to the spark of a popping candy in his mouth. He finds himself engrossed in the movie, in the stunning visuals, the gentle hues, and the paradoxical characters, uncovering reflections of his own existence within them.

He has never understood the need humans felt for art, dedicating hours upon hours to creating something not for their personal gain, but for others to watch, to reach, to touch. A craft not to appease one’s soul but to soothe the spirits of others. Yet, as the movie’s credits come to an end, a subtle shift occurs within him. Perhaps, he thinks with his widely beating heart, he now understands a little more.

“I feel terrible like there is a weight on my chest,” you repeat one of Howl’s concluding lines, stealing a glance at him, a tender smile gracing your face. The one dialogue that felt like a mirror was brought up to Yongbok's face.

“A heart’s a heavy burden,” he completes Sophie’s response to Howl. 

“That’s true. The heart weighs heavily on those who bear it,” you speak softly, as one would do to a child taking tentative steps into the world, learning that their first breath starts with grieving the only place you've known for nine months, followed by happiness, then sadness again, akin to the moon’s gradual phases. And maybe, in a way, he is a child lost in the overwhelming flood of these emotions, ones yet to be untangled in his mind but that already lay upon him like stones.

“Not everyone knows they have a heart, Yongbok. Some end up dying before ever feeling, without ever truly living.”  

“I just didn’t imagine it would be this… soul-crushing to bear it,” he admits softly, the words escaping him like a delicate secret. There's a hint of fear that accompanies his confession, an apprehension that Christopher might materialize before him, speaking in that calm, knowing tone—berating him with a simple “I told you so.”

“It’s a little organ facing a big life. It’s normal for it to be overwhelmed, don’t you think?” 

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, placing a trembling palm above his heart. Still as heavy. 

“You had a long night, get some rest, okay? We can start looking for a house tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he nods, as you rise from your place, only to reach for your wrist before fully thinking it through.  “Thank you,” he says sincerely. 

In the cracks of his heart, one seed of gratitude has been planted, a singular ray of light amid a stretch of darkness.

Finding a house turns out to be a strenuous task, and Yongbok feels remarkably disinterested in the discussions with every real estate agent you encounter. You play the role of his assistant, weaving a tale about an important businessman client who abruptly secured a job transfer to Seoul. However, he couldn't care less for the large windows ushering sunlight or the expansive patio offering picturesque views of Seoul. Instead, he focuses on your reactions to each room—the gasps of delight at spacious storage areas and the vacant rooms you dream of adorning in the future, once you're no longer a broke college student, as you explain.

You envision a room dedicated to your books, with a chair nestled in the middle for the long nights you spend reading, and another room designed as a painting studio. The expansive kitchens you visit are perfect for your baking endeavors, and Yongbok, perplexed by your fascination with fridges sporting two doors, finds amusement in your lively antics. Yet, a void persists within him, unfilled by the prospects of a shiny new home.

“Still not the one?” you ask on your third day of apartment hunting, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s okay, we’ll find the perfect one soon,” you reassure, and in that moment, he thinks back to your very first conversation on the rooftop, wonders how you can find hope for everyone surrounding you but yourself. 

“I still can’t believe I befriended a nepo angel,” you giggle, before inching closer to him on the couch, peering at him from beneath your eyelashes. “My air fryer is broken by the way, can you replace it?”

He contemplates for a minute before shaking his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “No.”

“Aren’t you my guardian angel?”

“Right, a guardian angel. Not a bank.” 

“But if my air fryer isn’t replaced soon then I’ll keep using it even though all its electric wires are now exposed and a fire will break out and I’ll end up dying—”

“Fine,” he heaves a resigned sigh, “I’ll replace it.” 

“Can you also get me the Le Creuset kitchen set?” you grin, standing in your kitchen a few minutes later, cradling your brand-new air fryer between your arms.

“I'm not your sugar daddy.”

Your gasp is so comical that it coaxes a little giggle from his lips. “So you know about sugar daddies and not Studio Ghibli movies.”

“Gossip travels in our world too,” he shrugs, and you put the air fryer down, leaning closer to his face. From this proximity, he can discern the delicate curve of your eyelashes and the way they frame your glowing eyes—how can your eyes shine so brightly even under the shittiest kitchen lighting he’s ever seen?

"Hello? Did you hear me?" you wave a hand before his face, and he snaps back to reality, your voice flooding his senses again.

“Hm?”

“Never mind,” you shrug your hand dismissively in the air, “should we celebrate your third day of knowing me?”

“That's cause for celebration?” he frowns, and you playfully hit his arm. “I feed you, I clothe you, I put a roof above your head—” Your words are muffled as he clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Can you hear that?” he wonders.

You shake your head no.

“It's quiet, finally.”

His hand, a feeble barrier, does not manage to muffle your offended gasp, and in that moment, Yongbok laughs for the first time in his existence, a sound that ripples from the roots of his being, washing over his sadness and erasing it for a split second.

His eyes are closed as he tips his head back in laughter, and he misses the way your eyes soften, your retort withering at the tip of your tongue. 

He’s beautiful when he smiles, you think. You hope for all his powers he cannot hear your thoughts. 

…

Yongbok does not know what’s there to celebrate on his third day in this world, for all he had felt so far was excruciating sadness. But he complies with your wishes, rising at dawn to join you on the shore of the nearby ocean. Seated on the sand dampened by morning dewdrops, the remnants of melting snow resemble ink on a page not yet dry. 

He watches as the last threads of the night unfold before his eyes, leaving way to a mesmerizing palette of soft pinks and oranges, the sky blushing from a night spent with the moon.

You brought him to witness the sun rising above the ocean, said that it would help calm down the frenzy of his heart. You are quite right, since the rhythmic dance of the waves acts like a spell, unraveling the knot in his tongue and coaxing him to recount everything that has led him up to this moment, to you. You were the main reason for his journey, he did not see it fitting to conceal the truth from you. He did not know yet how to deceive or lie. 

“So you wanted to feel?” you conclude softly and Yongbok nods, eyes not peeling away from the sky before him. It looks grander from below, a vast ceiling you never fear might collapse on you.

“That’s why it overwhelmed you a lot, every emotion is heightened because it was the first time, I suppose” you muse. 

“Yeah, but does it ever lessen with time? Isn't that why you cry often?” he asks, now free of the bounds that once restricted his curiosity.

“Can you please not bring this up again?” you hide your face, and he tilts his head, a perplexed expression etched on his features.

“Why is that?”

“It's embarrassing that you saw me cry this much,” you mumble, your words nearly drowned out by the crashing waves.

“It's not embarrassing. It's... fascinating,” he asserts. You stare at him incredulously, prompting him to elaborate. “You go down the same path, fully aware of where it leads, and yet, you do it again on the off chance that you'll receive the same kindness you show.”

“I sound stupid,” you giggle, and he mirrors your smile, not to mimic you, but because the corners of his mouth yearn to curve upwards, refusing to leave you alone in your grin.

“No, you sound brave.”

Your eyes soften at his words, the light of the rising sun filtering easily through your irises, causing your pupils to widen with each passing second.

“Thank you.” 

A tranquil quiet settles between you, the soothing sound of the waves filling the silence. The sun hovers directly above the water now, perched on the horizon, the sky much bolder in the colors it showcases.

“I come here when my heart feels too heavy to bear. I suppose that looking at the sea calms me,” you murmur, your cheek pressed against your knee.

“Why is that?”

“For these waves to reach the shore, they go through a lot, you know? Storms and tumultuous roads, and rage fills them, anger, sadness too at being away from home for too long. But then, they always reach the shores at last. And they calm down, and they’re at peace.” 

You turn to look at him, the hues of the sunrise reflecting off your face, dancing with the shadows that mold your features.

You look beautiful, so much so that he almost misses what you say next.

“So it is comforting to know that no matter how grand my worries are, there will come a time when they too will grow tired and rest.”

“It will pass,” he whispers and you nod cheerfully. “See, you’re already getting the gist of it.” 

“No,” he contradicts, “everything I know about humanity is from you.”

The colors of the sky seem to seep through your face at his words, and an unfamiliar warmth spreads through his being at the thought of making you blush.

He licks his lips tentatively, bringing your hand to rest atop his heart, hoping that the pressure will help ease its tension.

It does, ever so slightly.

“It feels like my heart is squeezed between two narrow walls,” he explains and you nod in understanding.

“Like it’s been sucked through a straw that drains you out of life.”

“Yes,” He exhales with contentment at the thought of someone understanding what he means, of what he feels no longer being an anomaly, but the norm for most.

“Will you move in with me?” he suddenly asks, and you startle, your fingers growing limp in his hold. 

“What?” 

“Your apartment is shitty, you hate your landlord and I’m pretty sure there is mold growing on your walls.”

“Okay, no need to attack me,” you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“I’ll buy the apartment you wanted, it technically doesn’t cost me anything and it’s closer to your university too, you no longer have to commute. You can get the library you wanted and the painting space too.” 

“But—”

“I’m a fallen angel tasting humanity for the first time, I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I haven’t looked in a mirror yet because I don’t know who I’ll find there. And I’m so scared, Y/n, so scared,” he confesses, breathless, his hand still pressing your palm against his erratic heart. 

A few seconds of heavy silence pass, Yongbok senses a resolve in you unfold. 

“And in return?” you ask tentatively. 

“I want to be happy,“ he breathes out, eyes flickering over yours like a swaying candlelight, “Could you show me how it’s done?”

Act 3. What’s an angel to a human?

“I want a better body, I want better skin, I wanna be perfect like all your other friends"- Black Friday, Tom Odell.

“So, happiness.” You stand near a blank whiteboard in the middle of your cramped living room, the one you just asked Yongbok to conjure out of thin air. 

You’ve been slightly abusing his ability to make your every wish materialize in a fleeting second, but only for useless things, like a bar of soap that smells specifically of these notes combinations you always thought would pair heavenly together (they did not), or a tube of salted caramel ice cream at 2 a.m. because you were too lazy to walk to the fridge (it was mere two meters away). Or just like now, a huge whiteboard so you’d explain to him, visually, how to achieve happiness. 

You told him that you’d only allow him to buy you a new house if he truly felt happy, for the very first time in his life. When he asked you how he’d know, you said he’d simply do, when the time comes. You shook hands on that promise two days ago. 

“Was this really necessary?” he questions, cocking an eyebrow at you. In response, you place your palms against your hips, eyes squinting at his dubious figure. 

“Do you want to be happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then, shut up.”

“I don’t think violence is the way to go about joy,” he quips and you quickly shut him up with a glare. Yongbok came to find that annoying you brought him a strange sense of satisfaction— he enjoyed seeing you pivot away, trying your best to conceal your amused smirk at his teasing. You always fail, or perhaps his perception of your being is heightened by the bond you share.

“I was saying, happiness is a byproduct of biological reactions.” You draw in a smiley face with utter concentration, and he stifles a giggle at the simplistic representation of the feeling. “There are four main hormones that allow us to feel happiness.” You pause, pointing your pen at him. “Yongbok, do you know which these are?”

“If I did know, why would I be here?” 

“True,” you nod vigorously, looking back at the whiteboard before locking eyes with him once more. “Can you please play along? I’ve always wanted to be a teacher,” you smile excitedly, speaking in hushed tones as if it was meant to be a shared secret between you both, far from the reach of the angels and peers that must be looking down at you both right now— you in indifference, him in disdain.

He shudders at the thought. 

“Fine. No, I do not Miss,” his smile is small, it grows when your eyes soften at him playing along. “Care to explain?” 

“So, in theory, we have dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin.” You flip the board, revealing some intricate drawings of what looks like the human brain, different arrows going out of it, filled with many inscriptions that he assumes are definitions of the hormones you just revealed. 

“But all of this is…” you play the drums on the board, leaning forth in suspense. “Useless!” you shout, throwing your marker and eraser in the air. Yongbok claps diligently at your dramatics.

“You know for humans with limited amounts of time on this earth, you sure do love wasting your precious minutes,” he taunts and a fire seems to light in your eyes, flames surging higher each time you poke fun at one another.

“You know for an angel who desperately needs my help, you sure do talk a lot.” 

“Touché,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Please grace me with your special knowledge.” 

“Fine.” You plop down next to him on the couch, your knee bumping against his. A pang of ache flares in his being before disappearing as quickly as it came. It leaves him no time to decipher its cause.

“Happiness is the hardest thing to get in this life. Sometimes you follow all the instructions on how to be happy and yet fail to achieve it.” You speak with a lingering bitterness in your tone as if you’ve spent the best part of your life following defective manuals. 

“Happiness won’t come to you, Yongbok. It doesn’t come knocking on our doors. You’ll have to search for it. Especially on days when everything seems grim and dark, you’ll have to squint your eyes and find it in the small things all around you. And when you do, hold on to them with all your might. Even if your hand bleeds, you hold on just as tightly.”

“What small things?” he asks, turning his entire body towards you. He is almost breathless, waiting for you to spell out the secret to tasting life’s sweetest fruit.

“Things that remain gentle no matter what time does to you. Like looking at flowers, sitting underneath the sun, watching the sea, being kind and helping people, enjoying your favorite hobby… “ you enumerate, your eyes never leaving his. “Do you have a hobby?”

“No?” he replies, though it comes off more as a question. You pick up on his uncertainty, waving a hand quickly through the air.

“It’s okay. I’ll help you find one. I promise.” 

His response comes as easily as an autumn breeze. 

“Okay. I believe you.”

You beam at him, sunlight seemingly pouring into your pores, brightening your face from within. He finds it strange that he suddenly sees the sun in you, a star he has never taken an interest in. But he quickly brushes the thought aside, mirroring your grin.

“I was also thinking,” you add, “you should work with me at my café.” 

“Me?” he points at himself and you giggle, nodding. “Yes, you! Do you want to just sit here all day waiting for me to come home from uni?” 

“What? Who said I don’t want to be your trophy wife?”

You snort, bewildered. “A what?”

“I did a deep dive into Urban Dictionary yesterday.”

You blink once. Then twice. “Crazy words to hear from an angel. And it’s a no, to being my trophy wife.”

“Please?” he pushes, tugging at the outskirts of your sleeve. 

“No,” you sing-song, standing up and heading to the kitchen. “We needed a new barista anyway. And I’ll teach you how to make coffee. Also, I think you’ll enjoy people-watching.”

“That sounds creepy!” he shouts from the couch.  

“Says the guy who told me I cry an average of 160 times per year!”

“It’s 165, actually,” he corrects. 

You peek your head out of the kitchen, pointing a threatening finger at him. “Die.” 

“What happened to live laugh love?” 

“Just how much did you stay on Urban Dictionary?”

“A lot,” he shudders, shaking his head. You burst into uncontainable giggles, and the same satisfaction floods Yongbok’s being. Although this time it is much stronger.

It is a weird thought that suddenly brushes his mind— he thinks that if the sun ever spoke it would be your laugh spilling out of its mouth. 

… 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you grin, spreading your arms wide as you open the door to Haven Café. Yongbok follows closely behind, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black jeans.

“It’s nice,” he says absentmindedly, his eyes sweeping across every surface of the interior.

“Nice? This is my baby. Please be more expressive,” you retort, pointing a finger at him threateningly. He shakes his head, amused.

“This is the most beautiful place my fallen angel eyes have ever seen,” he says with mock reverence.

He isn’t lying, though. Resplendent flower vases adorn every corner, and a warm, inviting atmosphere permeates the space, evident in the comfortable auburn chairs and the books scattered on the sage shelves.

“I was actually wondering… What makes something beautiful?” he suddenly asks. You pause in your tracks, then resume opening the blinds.

“How it makes you feel,” you say simply. “Help me?” you add. Yongbok nods, sidling up to your side to open the remaining windows.

“This place is beautiful to me because it makes me feel at ease. I know that whatever happens, I can always escape here. Between the flower vases, the aroma of coffee, and the large windows, I feel good. At home,” you explain.

“But isn’t home your house?” he asks earnestly, tilting his head to the side. Your smile, warm and comforting, brushes over him like a fleeting sunbeam.

“Home is where you feel most like yourself.”

He does when you’re nearby. 

Does that make you my home? He wants to ask, but something inside stops him. He thinks it is too big of a confession to be uttered at the rise of dawn. 

“When did you start working here?” he asks, watching you refill the ice.

“Seven years ago.”

“Oh,” he gasps softly, suddenly remembering that he hasn’t known you your entire life. He wasn’t there to guard you through your childhood, to watch you stumble off the steps, or swing high to the sky. He realizes how little he knows about you. He suddenly aches to learn more, to know everything.

“The owner was our old neighbor, so when I was sixteen, he got me my first job here. I’m very attached to this place and its memories so I still come here.” 

“Memories,” he repeats to himself slowly, as if tentatively tasting the way the word feels on his tongue.

“What was that?” you ask, as you sweep the counter with a purple rug.

“It’s nice to have memories,” he smiles and you scrunch your nose, shaking your head slightly.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I have no memories. None worth getting attached to anyway because all my life was spent feeling the same way. So, in a way…” he pauses, licking his lips tentatively. “I have never lived anything that shaped me. Except for meeting you.” A few silent beats pass, and you feel as if he has more to say, so you remain quiet. 

Yongbok opens his mouth, only to close it again, deciding against speaking. Yet again, too early.

“It’s your first life, in a way,” you finally say, “there are all these unknown feelings that you are experiencing for the first time. It’s unfair to you if you expect yourself to figure it out from the get-go.” 

Your palm rests upon his back, swiping gently left and right before you move around the corner to filter the coffee. But Yongbok feels as if the clock orchestrating the universe has halted, the seconds freezing the moment your hand touched his back.

It is a heavy, gruesome knowledge that he bears— knowing that beneath your warm, comforting touch lies a map of butchered skin and scars running down his spine. His powers had fallen short of erasing the remnants of his lost wings, leaving behind clots of skin that starkly highlight all his imperfections in one place.

Yongbok had looked at his back only once, a fleeting glance before he vowed never to set eyes on his abomination again, this grotesque reminder clinging to him like skeletons overflowing from his closet.

He felt ugly, and worthless for carrying such a vivid reminder of who he once was. Who he failed to be. No one should ever see his back.

Especially not you.

“There are twenty minutes left until opening. Shall we discover what your favorite drink is?” you ask, snapping Yongbok out of his haze.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat with an inhuman effort. “That sounds nice.”

Yongbok doesn't like coffee—you could tell from the scrunch of his nose and the squint in his eye after one sip of his iced Americano. “Are you bad at making coffee, or does it always taste like this?” he asks, and you throw a dozen napkins at his head in response.

“People ask for me specifically to make their coffee. Know your place,” you squint threateningly. He raises his hands in surrender, biting his tongue cheekily. Your eyes linger a bit too long on his lips, shaped like a cupid’s bow, their arrow striking straight through your heart.

It sometimes astonishes you how pretty your guardian angel is, and how seemingly unaware he is of the beauty he carries within each one of his features, each worthy of paintings and sculptures to immortalize them for eternity to come.

“This is good,” he grins, sipping his caramel Frappuccino happily.

“Because it’s ninety percent sugar,” you smile just as brightly. He puts down the drink slowly, eyeing you curiously.

“Why do I feel as if this is a secret insult?”

“It’s not a secret insult. I’m doing it to your face,” you smile, and he rolls his eyes so much they almost reach the back of his head. You can’t help but giggle quietly as he grabs the vanilla matcha drink. “Wow I can’t believe the sassy men apocalypse affects angels as well,” you sigh.

“I literally have no idea what half of these words are.”

“What happened to Urban Dictionary?”

“Die.”

“Aww, look at you picking up my slang already,” you coo at him. 

It's his turn to fling balled-up napkins at your face. You dodge them perfectly as if in a dance you’ve rehearsed thousands of times before.

“Anyways,” you clap excitedly, “you have five minutes to make me a latte.”

“Me? But I don't know how to.”

You place a recipe book before him, tapping the counter diligently. “I expect the world’s tastiest latte.”

A small smirk draws upon his lips as he shakes his head slightly. The sight of him makes you flustered all of a sudden.

“Anything else, your majesty?”

“No,” you grin. “Have fun!”

You wander through the café, dusting the books on the shelves– your most prized possessions, ones that you bought and others that customers themselves have donated. You return to Yongbok’s side when his voice booms through the place, calling your name.

“Here,” he slings the drink toward you, and your face contorts in shock.

“What the fuck? Since when do you know how to do this?”

“Do what?”

“This intricate latte art?” you point to the foam forming a perfectly drawn white swan.

“Ah, this. One time you were in the kitchen, very frustrated because you couldn’t get this shape right. So, I did it for you.”

“Are all angels as sweet as you?” you grin, taking a sip of the drink and holding his gaze over the rim of the glass. His heart catches in his throat for two reasons—anticipation as he awaits your reaction, and hunger as he aches for you to describe him even more, to dress him in all the adjectives linked to his being so he wouldn’t feel like a stranger, a blank canvas in his own body.

“How is it?” he asks. You remain silent, taking another sip.

“Mm.”

“Mm?” he echoes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s opening time!” you sing-song, walking away, and he follows behind you. “Why won’t you tell me? Is it that bad?”

“I don’t want to!” you speed up walking, and so does he. You end up running, skirting around the chairs, your laughter coating the room like golden honey. “Leave me alone!” 

“You have to tell me!” he shouts, chasing after you in an impromptu game of catch. He suddenly manages to grab your arm, spinning you around until your back is against the table, his arms on either side of your body. His eyes are suddenly drawn to the languid rise and fall of your chest, and then to the way your tongue slowly swipes across your lips, wetting them. 

A sudden warmth pools in his lower stomach, and he lets out a shuddered breath, his heart caught in a web of unknown feelings.

“Am I interrupting?” an unknown voice breaks in, and Yongbok quickly takes three hurried steps away from you, his cheeks ablaze as if flames are latching onto them—he doesn’t know if it’s from his embarrassment or from the golden specks he could decipher in your eyes.

“Mr. Kang!” you shout excitedly, skipping over to stand by the man’s side. He’s shorter than you, his back slightly hunched from time’s morphing hands, and his smile is warm as it lands on you. He reaches out to ruffle your hair in greeting before his gaze lands on Yongbok.

“Is this your friend?” he asks, the same smile still etched into his lips. You nod, and Yongbok bows deeply before straightening up.

“Can he make nice coffee?” Mr. Kang asks, and Yongbok stares at you expectantly.

“The best,” you finally grin, and a worried breath dissipates from his chest.

“I think we’ll get more clients too. He’s very handsome!”

“I know, you should see his freckles,” you giggle, pointing to a lightbulb that needs fixing on the other side of the café. Yongbok stays rooted in place, trying his best to steady his breathing. He is sure his face has turned the shade of the sky after a crimson sunset.

…

“This is Chris,” you say, standing by Yongbok’s side two hours later as he diligently wipes the counter. Yongbok follows your gaze to a young man nodding his head to the rhythm of his headphones. He looks serious, eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. His hair is hidden beneath a black cap, but a few strands escape, swooping like a duck’s tail.

“We take a music theory class together. He’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, a true social butterfly. I think the term was coined for him,” you explain. As if summoned by your words, Chris looks up, his eyes finding the two of you. He tilts his head in greeting, clicks a few keys on his laptop, then rises to join you.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he grins, and you roll your eyes. “When are you going to drop the cheesy nicknames?”

“Never,” he smiles, dimples deepening. They remain as his gaze shifts to Yongbok.

Yongbok isn’t used to smiles that don’t falter when they land on him.

“Hey, mate,” Chris says, extending his hand. Yongbok nods, shaking it.

“I’m Chris.”

“Yongbok.”

“Are you new here?”

“No, we just found him outside and forced him to make coffee,” you tease. Chris bumps your shoulder playfully. “Shut up. Good luck having to stand her for so long.”

“As if you aren’t obsessed with me,” you scoff, turning to Yongbok. “He refuses to drink coffee anywhere else.”

“Because you give me free sweets.”

“In this economy?” Mr. Kang appears suddenly, and the two of you burst into laughter at his timing. “Did your daughter teach you that?” you giggle, and he nods, almost desolate as if forced to acquire this knowledge.

“Anyway, we should hang out at one of my parties, Yongbok. Let’s catch up,” Chris grins before winking at you— “My usual, please, baby.”

You send him a playful middle finger. He blows you a kiss as he returns to his seat.

“We’ve known each other for three years now. He’s very annoying,” you smile, shaking your head. “But he’s a good friend.”

Yongbok feels something chip away in his heart, as his eyes land on Chan’s figure yet again. A slow ache swirls in his stomach like thorny vines. Time seems different for humans. He has known his fellow angels for much longer yet he doesn't think anyone would ever speak of him with this fond of a tone. 

---

“You did well,” you smile, patting Yongbok’s shoulder at the end of the day, the café as empty as it was at 6 a.m.

“Thank you, it was nice,” he replies with a tired, yet genuine smile. You nod, a slight yawn taking over you.

“Will you help me get some flour from the back? Then we can go home.”

Home. A concept that seems less foreign when you are near.

“Sure.”

“It’s there,” you point to a high shelf in the storage room. “We usually use a staircase, but we broke ours last month. I almost fell on my head— “

“But ended up magically walking away unscathed?” he interrupts. “I know.”

You slam a hand over your mouth, staggering back. “How?”

“Y/n... please don’t be surprised when I tell you this,” Yongbok frowns, placing a hand on his heart.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

“When I told you I was your guardian angel, it meant that I actually guarded you from harm’s way.”

“No,” you shake your head.

“I know,” he nods solemnly. “I’ve saved you from many, many clumsy falls.”

“My savior,” you giggle. “Lift me?” you say, and he nods, squatting down until you climb atop his shoulders before rising again.

“Okay, get a bit closer,” you instruct as you grab a packet of flour. “Shit, okay, this is heavy,” you giggle nervously.

“Why are you shaking? I’m the one carrying you,” Yongbok chuckles.

“When have you ever seen me around the vicinity of a gym?”

“Just hang in there, I’ll squat slowly,” he reassures.

Your feet are almost on the ground when the bag slips from your hands, falling with a resounding bang. Clouds of white envelop you both, shrouding your clothes in powder. You freeze, only to erupt into laughter as Yongbok grabs your waist, pulling you down to him.

“My god,” you manage to utter between chuckles, staring at the flour scattered all over the ground. Your laughter intensifies as Yongbok stares at you blankly, his face completely covered in white.

“What should I do?” you giggle, clutching your stomach. Yongbok can’t hold in his laughter much longer at the sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks. His giggles stream through your veins like a cup of hot tea, making your entire being warm up from within.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh, your palms settling atop his cheeks, slightly wiping away the powder.

“It’s okay,” he chuckles still, swiping his knuckles across your cheek to remove the flour, as well. Your hands cease their movements as you take in the fully concentrated look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you inquire quietly, and he nods.

“You seemed quiet today,” you note. He stiffens slightly before turning your cheek to the left, wiping the other side of your face. “Or was I wrong?”

“I don’t really know how to talk to other people.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m scared they’ll be able to tell there is something abnormal about me.”

“Yongbok...” you speak his name softly as if it was molded after your voice alone. “That’s nonsense. There is nothing abnormal about you.”

He avoids your gaze, so you place your hand atop his, tilting your face to catch his eyes. “Hm?”

“Just because my wings aren’t here doesn’t mean my past is erased.”

“Who said it should be? No one’s asking you to be perfect. No human is, Yongbok.” He remains silent, so you sigh softly, inching closer to him.

“If a straight line goes on with its path...” your fingertip drags a straight line across his chest, the white shirt he’s wearing suddenly igniting from the warmth of your touch. “It will remain undisturbed for the rest of its life. But what good is that? If a line doesn’t go down,” you trace a curve down his shirt, then one up again, “how will it ever know how sweet a high is, right?” you smile, before bopping your fingertip across the tip of his nose.

“You have pretty freckles, by the way,” you smile, and he clears his throat, nodding furiously. “Thank you.”

“You know, the guy who ordered the matcha latte, he spent his entire time here observing you,” you grin knowingly, and he frowns. “Really? I didn’t notice.”

“Yes, and when you gave him the change, he did the... what was it called again?” you muse for a few seconds before clapping. “Ah, yes, the triangle method.”

“What’s that?”

“He looked into your left eye, then your right one,” you demonstrate with your gaze gliding across his like a skilled ice skater grazing the surface of ice. “Then... his gaze flickered to your lips,” your eyes follow your words, and his breath suddenly catches in his throat, an unknown feeling swelling in the pits of his stomach. Tender and aching all at once. 

“Did it work? Did I fluster you?” you giggle, leaning to place your ear atop his heart. Yongbok pushes your head away, grateful for the dim lighting that conceals his blushing face. He doesn’t know what emotion will burst into him if your head rests across his chest.

He doesn’t think his heart could handle it.

“No, you didn’t, um—” he’s flustered. He prays with all his might you can’t tell. “Let’s clean this up, I’m hungry.”

“What should we have for dinner?”

“Sushi?”

“No, let’s have kimbap.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

You shrug happily. “I’m giving you the illusion of choice.”

Your words send a chill running down his spine, his hands freezing in place. Is this what Chris has offered him? An illusion of choice. Of a different ending. Of a fate different from what he has always thought would be his.

No, Christopher can’t be that cruel, right? Yongbok shakes his head, cleaning the entire room with an absentminded swipe of his hand.

A fool made to believe he can change a prophecy.

But Yongbok can’t help the small voice growing in his head, feeding off his worries and anxiety, echoing mindlessly within his mind.

But he can.

He can.

He is.

…

Time passes differently on humans than on angels. It now marks Yongbok in different ways, too. 

The hours he spends feeling sad are excruciating, stretching long and long till he starts to question whether the sun does rise at the end of the night. Or if it is a cruel lie recounted by humans to make the sadness less harsh, easier to bear. 

But those same hours he spends happily pass within the blink of an eye, their fragments stitching into Yongbok’s memory, a tapestry woven with threads of your silky voice and glimmering eyes. It is those happy moments he lived for the past month that he wishes to remember. 

Only those. 

He's gotten better at latte art, taking pleasure in drawing different shapes, animals, and even faces into the drinks. It’s less the satisfaction of being good at a task, and more so the smile that blooms on the faces of whichever customer gets their drink. Delighted by something he did, for once.

He’s good at making brownies. And apparently, his brownies are the best you’ve ever had. He’s only ever discovered the joys of baking because you were craving some but were feeling too lazy to make them. It was arguably hard to bake in the dark, as if ashamed of what your reaction would be if you found him struggling with pots and browned butter. 

But all of his embarrassment dissipated when you tasted them first thing in the morning, your eyes lingering longer on his figure when you found the plate. 

Mr. Kang agrees, too, so much that he’s asked him to put up these brownies for sale. Yongbok spends a lot of time with the kitchen staff, where Mrs. Kang, the head chef, teaches him the intricacies of carrot cake and cinnamon rolls. She calls him “son”,  Yongbok doesn’t know why an urge to weep overtakes him each time he hears the nickname.

You took him on picnics across the Han River, bowls of steaming hot ramyeon in your hands as you watched the sunset, sometimes the sunrise too. He reads books lying on the grass field, your shoulder brushing against his own. He doesn’t know why he remembers the swipe of your skin against his, or the specific scent of your perfume as it intermingles with that of the salty river. 

Sometimes it is bike rides across the river. You chasing the sun and him chasing something else— was it your smile, your happiness, a glimpse of your face each time you turned back to look at him? He doesn’t know the exact answer, but he knows that when your gaze met his across your shoulder, the wind swaying your hair as if spelling out lullabies for his soul, something excruciatingly tender bloomed within his soul. 

Sometimes it is day trips to neighboring cities, where you can see the beach once again. Where he swims and floats atop the water. Where he closes his eyes and feels at peace, where the water chases off images of his pain and leaves only images of you. 

He also volunteered at your local food kitchen. The people who eat there have called him kind, too. He feels as if you sat the course of how he would be perceived when you described him as such, the very first night you spoke in. He likes being there. He likes talking to people, he’s gotten better at it, too. 

He met Chan, and his two friends, Han and Changbin. He doesn’t remember how he ended up singing ad-libs for their newest mixtape. But they complimented his voice, said it’s perfect for harmonizing. You had simply grinned as if you already knew that from the moment you had first heard him speak. You spent the rest of the night eating grilled meat and playing video games over at their dorm. Yongbok doesn't think he laughed as much as that day. 

And each time he thinks the heights of his happiness are attained, that this is as joyful as he can get. That sorrow will undoubtedly follow closely, as it lingers just around the corner, waiting for the cup of his happiness to be filled to the brim. You prove him wrong. You make him laugh harder. You broaden his heart for him to receive even more happiness. 

As you are doing now, missing every target to win this pink cat plushie in Lotte World. 

“This is embarrassing, how can you miss all of them?” he sighs amusedly and you turn around, pointing a finger at his face. 

“Because you are staring at me with your…” you stammer, waving your finger in front of his face, “eyes.”

“How am I supposed to look at you then?”

“Just don't. I don’t do well with scrutinizing.”

“Okay, I’m not looking.” he turns around, closing his eyes for a second, waving his hand discreetly through the air. He knows that your delighted scream will follow. 

“Did you get it?” he feigns being surprised as you shake his shoulder, turning him around. “I did!” 

Your smile is as wide as an ocean, as beautiful as the sunsets you take him to witness. He’s lost in thought as he takes in your grin. 

“You look so pretty, Yn,” he says honestly, earnestly, because it is the only way he has ever known to speak to you. “Pretty like the sun.” 

“Oh,” your excitement fizzles out, the plushie growing lump in your hold. “Doesn’t the sun burn the more you look at it?” you giggle nervously, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear. They are rebellious, refusing to stay still, so Yongbok steps forward, gently doing it for you.

“Because the sun shines a bit too brightly to make sure everything else in the universe does.” he pauses, running his tongue across the expanse of his lips. “Just like you, with me and everyone else in your life,” he says. My light is a reflection of yours, is what you hear. 

“You are very honest,” you smile softly, bringing a hand to your ablaze cheeks, hoping to cool them down. 

“Is it a bad thing?” he asks. Nervous. You quickly shake your head, despising the thought of a negative emotion trapping his heart.

“No, no. It’s a good one. Truly.” 

“Okay.” 

“Should we go to the ferry wheel?” you suddenly ask, hugging the plushie closely to your body. 

“Yeah, sure, let’s go,” he grins. 

Yongbok’s limbs are slightly achy from all the rides you went on today, but nothing seems to deter the smile on his face, even as the line stretches for meters ahead. Nothing, except for the discomfort slowly growing on your face, your thumb tearing at the skin near your nails. 

“What’s wrong?” he questions, trying his best to catch your fleeting gaze. 

“There are too— too many people around, I feel a bit suffocated.” 

Yongbok doesn’t think, he simply grabs your hand and you are suddenly on the top of the ferry wheel, humans morphing into tiny ants to you from high above.

“Better?” he asks worriedly, tucking a strand of your hair behind the cuff of your ear. 

You’re still slightly dazed, but the wind that slams into your body feels like a gulp of cold water. 

“Your hands are shaking,” he notices, entwining your fingers with his, naturally, as if it is second nature for you both. “And they are cold. Are you dying?” he asks and you finally burst into giggles, shaking your head.

“No, I… I sometimes get anxious around people; it usually turns into a panic attack but I think you stopped it.”

“I helped you?” he asks, eyes softening and you nod. “Why are you surprised? you always do.”

Yongbok doesn’t know how to face the gentleness of your tone. It is a much harder opponent than the harshness he was subjected to. 

“Do they happen often?”

“It depends. They come and go like the seasons. I actually… I learned how to help you from my mom. Do you remember? back on the rooftop?”

“Really?” he asks, bringing your interlocked hands to his mouth and blowing warm air onto them. His lips almost graze your knuckles in the process. 

“Yeah. She got them frequently and she taught me how to ground her. And then I used those techniques on myself. Then on you.” you sigh, closing your eyes and tipping your head back. 

“Hers happened because of a past accident. She once got stuck in a mob of people and ended up fainting. it was my dad who pulled her up from the ground, it’s how they met, actually,” you grin slightly, before breathing in slowly.

“You know, I read that you can inherit trauma from your parents, but also from generations past. That  it changes the genetic structure of your mind. I wonder if that’s what triggers me.” 

“That's fascinating to think about. How emotions and experiences can be inherited.” 

“I know,” you smile, “I think it passed.” you gesture to your interlocked hands and he lets go promptly, staring ahead at the twinkling city lights, light pink dusting his cheeks. He’s embarrassed because he enjoyed the feel of your palm against his so much, maybe too much, enough to wish for your line palms to meld into one another. Becoming two indiscernible scriptures to the naked eye. 

“Wait. Does this mean we didn't need to wait all day for the rides?” you suddenly ask and he nods. 

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I don't… I don't like using my powers a lot around you.”

“Why is that?” 

“I'm scared that the more I use them the more you'll realize that I'm a fallen angel and that you have no business talking to someone like me.”

“You are very silly, you know that right?” you sigh, placing your cheek atop his shoulder. Yongbok’s world stops spinning right there and then. “I don't feel as lonely anymore now that you’re here. Angel,, human, or something else entirely… None of that matters to me.

To me, you’re just Yongbok.”

the question trickles suddenly into his being, tiptoes inside him gently like a droplet finding its way back to a waterfall— what is the grandest thing the universe has to offer?

To him you’re it. 

“I think I'm happy right now.”

“You think?” 

“I don't know how to describe it… But it feels like I have a little sun in my chest. It glows and it’s warm.” 

You tilt your head back to look at him, a wide smile on your face. He finds his answer in the sunset that filtrates through the strands of your hair, the last sun rays of the day coating your face in a warm glow, as if it was made to make your features shine the most, to make the shadows in your face look like a sculpture. 

“Yeah,” he says after a few silent beats, “I really am happy.”

“Does this mean we are moving?” you giggle, spreading your arms wide as if taking in the entire universe into your chest.

“Yeah, wherever you want us to.” His words are soft, resolute, draped with a gentle discovery— he followed you down to earth, he’d follow you everywhere in it.

…

“I don't know how I'll explain to people how I suddenly afforded this apartment,” you smile, hands on your hips, as you take in your new surroundings. 

Yongbok moves to stand directly behind you, his chest almost brushing against yours. you feel your heart palpitate at his proximity— so close yet so out of reach, simultaneously.

“Just say you moved in with me”

“Mm, I’ll say we are childhood friends and you just moved to the city.”

“Friends? Is that what we are now?” he grins, the light from the tinted windows bathing his features in a kaleidoscope of colors. He’s so beautiful, You you suddenly wish for a change to what you are. you don’t know by what exactly. But something, anything that will allow you to appreciate, venerate his beauty fully.

“Well, we aren’t strangers anymore.”

“I think you are my first real friend,” he says, a bit shyly, pink filling up the spaces between his tan freckles. 

Yongbok always speaks what’s in his mind, with this air of innocence tainting his words as if he doesn’t know that thoughts can be kept to himself. 

You never mind it. Though it churns your insides, makes you experience this particular attachment to him. You want to orbit around him, hear what he thinks of everything, of the colors it seems he experiences for the first time, the food he tastes, and the humans he speaks to.

And most importantly, you. 

You yearn to know everything he thinks of you. You don’t allow yourself to decipher where this need is coming from. You don’t think you’d be able to handle its consequences. 

“You’re lucky I'm like… The best human to ever walk on this earth,” you grin, throwing your hair over your shoulder and onto his face. He squints his eye to chase away strands of your hair.

“The humblest too,” he says, his eyes drifting across the living room. You chose an apartment on the smaller side, as opposed to his unlimited budget. But he likes what you did to the place. He doesn’t quite understand the intricacies of home decor, but he likes the plants everywhere, the flickering candles, and the fragrant flowers bathed in dim lightning. 

And he loves your painting room the most, with a neat library on the side. It feels like taking a walk straight into your heart. 

“Who painted that, by the way?” he suddenly asks, pointing to the painting in the middle of the room, right above the beige couch. 

“Hwang Hyunjin. It took me four paychecks to be able to afford it, three years ago. His pieces are now much more expensive.”

“Hyunjin…” he repeats, tasting the name on his tongue, it is familiar, and the memory suddenly hits him once again. “Oh, I talked to him before.”

“Did you?!” you ask excitedly, grabbing his arm and shaking it slightly. “Where, when, how?”

“At a bar, before I became... half human?” he says, unsure a bit of what he is now. “He actually invited me to his upcoming exposition. When was it again?”

“Today!” you nearly yell and he flinches.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I've been following his news. He's really my favorite artist.”

“Should we go?” 

“Actually?”

“Yeah. you seem to really like him.”

“Oh my god, I’m meeting Hwang Hyunjin. oh my god, I need a dress,” you grab his hand, pulling him away. “We need a dress!”

“We?”

“Let’s go shopping, we need to buy…”

Your words fizzle out in his brain, his whole focus on your entwined fingers as you push him through the room. Your palm feels like a soft petal brushing against his bruised skin. 

If he freezes time, just for a bit more, to enjoy the feel of your hand in his, would anyone blame him? 

The earth would understand surely— the desperate need to appreciate softness when all he has known is thorns pricking his skin.

...

“Yongbok!” Hyunjin's boisterous voice echoes through the art gallery, drawing every eye to you and Yongbok as you stride inside. Yongbok barely has a moment to take in the lavish surroundings before Hyunjin walks toward you, his polished shoes clicking rhythmically against the white marble.

“I knew you’d come!” he grins, grabbing Yongbok’s hand between his two large palms, shaking it warmly. 

“I didn’t think you’d remember me.” 

“Of course I'd remember you,” Hyunjin says, his face darkening for a fleeting second, before his eyes rest on you. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hyunjin,” he smiles, grabbing your hand and shaking it a bit more softly. 

“Yn. I’m a big admirer of your work, truly.”

Yongbok’s eyes soften at your excitement— they don’t leave your figure when he tells Hyunjin that you have a piece of his hanging in the living room.

“Really?” Hyunjin’s face brightens up at the news, “which one?”

“The red roses in the vase. It’s one of my favorites.”

“That was in my beginnings,” Hyunjin muses, a hint of nostalgia tinting his words. “I put a lot of love in it.” 

“I can tell, the colors especially scream of passion.”

“Are you one for passionate love?”

“Is love truly love if it is devoid of passion?” you ask, tilting your head. Hyunjin’s eyes linger on Yongbok for a moment before turning back to you.

“Excellent! Please choose whichever artwork you prefer; it will be my gift.”

“Really?” you beam, brighter than Yongbok has ever seen you before. The sun suddenly perishes within him.

“Of course. The prettiest artwork for the prettiest girl,” Hyunjin winks smoothly, before patting Yongbok’s shoulder. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Yongbok’s voice is withered as it floods his ears— “Please.”

…

Yongbok’s eyes are fixated on the red liquid swirling around his glass. He fears that if his gaze deserts the wine he’s drinking then it would inevitably drift to you and Hyunjin, giggling together, like long-time friends. Or is it lovers? The lines blur so easily for humans.

He had feigned an ache in his legs, telling you that he’d sit down while you go on with the tour. You had placed a hand on his arm, a worried crease in your eyebrows. “Okay?” you asked. Comforting, warm. It is the adjectives that always come to his mind when he thinks of you with him. 

But you aren’t his to describe. His to be kind with. His. 

So, he hummed, a tight smile drawn on his face. 

It’s not that he despised Hyunjin’s artwork. On the contrary, Hyunjin is a skilled artist, he can see why he’s reaping the fruits he sowed years ago. And yet, what disturbs him is something silly, stupid, too feeble for an angel, a human even, to care for.

He doesn’t like how your laugh travels around the gallery, how you fell so easily into conversation with Hyunjin, talking about your shared interest in art. He won’t ever have a passion of years to talk to you about. How could he when his existence merely spans over three months?

Yongbok is shrinking more and more, till he becomes a single dot of paint on the painting in the very far end of the gallery. Forgotten, dim before all the others. How can he dream to compare if he doesn’t know who he is? If his memories of life don’t even contain the four seasons, pausing in winter, barely brushing against spring.

When his torn skin doesn’t bear blemishes from falls years ago, while riding the bicycle, while playing with other kids, proof of a childhood well spent. No, his scars are that of one stripped from his roots, cast into an unknown world, punished, ridiculed. 

He’s unworthy of being an angel, unworthy of being human, unworthy of being in your company. Why are you wasting time with someone like him, who’d only pull you down, someone who needs instructions to understand how to carry his heart? 

The thoughts play out in his head, again and again, on your ride back home. You are happy, radiating even at the thought of a painting delivered by Hyunjin himself, your favorite artist, sitting in your home. His skin ricochets off your happiness, morphs it into anger and bitterness, all directed at himself.

He hates Hyunjin. He doesn't. He hates Hyunjin with you. He wants you to be happy with him alone. Isn’t he horrible for wishing to strip you away from happiness? 

Horrible.

Horrible.

Abomination. 

“Can you help me take off my necklace?” you knock on his bedroom a few minutes after you arrive, walking in to find him sitting on his bed, deep in thought. 

He startles at your presence, backing away even more into the wall. You frown at the tumult you perceive in his eyes. 

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Please, get out.” 

He can’t bear looking at you. He can’t bear you looking at him. What will you see? Someone poisoned by jealousy, whose insides are collapsing on themselves, whose body rejects his bruised soul, over and over again. 

Where else is he supposed to flee? If he sheds this skin, which one would finally accept him whole? 

“What’s wrong? you’ve been quiet all night, avoiding my gaze. Did something happen that upset you?”

He’s panicking, on the verge of combusting into tears. How would he explain this hatred coursing through his veins at the thought of being perceived? By your kind, beautiful beautiful eyes, nonetheless. 

“I really–“ a pause, “ I really don’t want to see you right now.”

You falter, your hand curling tighter against the doorknob.

“Because each time I do, I– I see you with Hyunjin, and I feel as if flames are burning inside my lungs, choking me.” 

“What?” 

“And I hate- hate how I… look how I exist right now. So please, leave, I don't want you to see me.” 

You hesitate for a few seconds, rooted in place. 

And then you close the door. 

You are inside. 

“Talk to me, what is it you’re feeling?” you speak softly, your voice cautious, none of the things he’s used to. It angers him all of the sudden. 

“This is exactly what I hate. You are wasting your time helping me decipher my feelings, you are pitying me. Can't you see how burdensome I am?”

You shake your head, taking a step forward. 

“I don’t, I like it, I… I love helping you, I love seeing the world through your eyes again. It feels like I'm learning new things every day thanks to you and I—“

“I’m an ABOMINATION,” he yells, the walls seem to shake from the voracity of his voice. “From the moment I was created, I have been nothing but anomalous, I… I don't belong anywhere, who was I kidding by coming here?” he tears at his hair slightly, now pacing back and forth in front of you. “Did I really think that feeling would suddenly fix the void within me? that talking to humans would make me normal–“ 

“Yongbok!” you cut him off, no longer capable of bearing the sound of his shaky voice. “Please you are not listening to me!”

“No, you are not listening to me! Look! Look at how ugly I am, look!” he turns around, taking off his white shirt, exposing his butchered back to you. “Look at everything that haunts me, please look at it, hate me and leave.” 

He pleads, naked and vulnerable before your eyes. He waits for you to deliver the killing blow, to cement the horrible thoughts he bears for his body. 

If it is your voice speaking of how worthless he is then he’d believe it more. 

A pin-drop silence coats the room. Yongbok believes you somewhat vanished from existence. 

And then. Your lips on his back, brushing across the plane of his shoulder in the softest, faintest manner. He almost thinks he’s imagining it, imagining you kissing his scarred skin as if it is a delicate petal, worthy of care. Worthy of admiration. Worthy of love. 

“Is this what you hate about yourself?” you whisper, your knuckles grazing his scars. “Why are you so mean to your body, Yongbok?” your voice shakes. Hot tears pool in his eyes at the sound of it. “ Didn’t it scab its best to keep you alive?”

“You are such an idiot,” you breathe out quietly, your warm palms settling atop his waist. “I won't hate you for this. How could I hate you for this?” 

Yongbok is dizzy, drunk off your voice and the way your touch makes goosebumps ripple across his skin. “How could I hate you when all I see is resilience?” Your lips brush against his back, the faintest kisses peppered down his spine. “When all I see is what kept you alive?” 

Yongbok’s blood has spilled into the first snow of Seoul, what feels like a lifetime ago. But somewhat, it is underneath the caress of your hands that he has felt most exposed.

“So, I am thankful for your scars,” another tender kiss, this time to the nape of his neck. “Otherwise, you would have bled on the snow and I wouldn't have known you. And it’s a horrible horrible thing for me to imagine.” 

Your chin nestles across the plane of his shoulder, your hands wrap delicately around his chest. Can you feel his heart beating wildly? Can you hear it spelling out your name? 

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Yongbok. Haven't you been through enough, already?”

It isn’t the thoughts in Yongbok’s head that finally make him breakdown. It is rather the feeling of your chest pressed to his back, your cheek resting across his shoulder, you hugging him for the very first time in existence, you enclosing him in a cocoon of safety the way his wings used to.  

“I’m here. you can cry all you want,” you reassure, soft and comforting. His grief for his wings suddenly seem too far out of reach, the safety of his feathers paling before the safety of you. 

Yongbok doesn’t think as he spins around, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You respond swiftly, bringing his body even closer to yours, running your hand comfortingly along his spine. 

He doesn’t mind your fingers grazing his scars, he doesn’t chase off your touch. On the contrary, he craves it, his cells calling out your name, thanking you for all the love you’re giving him. He wishes he could glue himself to you, crawl inside your veins, build himself a nest between the web of your nerves. He doesnt think he could ever survive mourning you. 

“Please— please don’t leave me,” he begs, lost in waves of uncertainty, he thinks that if he holds you tightly you won’t ever disappear from his hands, trickling between his fingers like grains of sand. 

“Don't be silly,” tears fall down your eyes too, landing on his back like dripping wax. You attempt to steady your voice but it still shakes like rattling branches. “Where would I go?”

“What if they take you away from me?”

A flash of white clouds Yongbok’s vision, the cold returns to his body tenfold. He blinks repeatedly, and then he finds himself atop an abandoned rooftop. The blood runs cold in his veins, his heart pausing in his chest as he hears heavy footsteps approaching. Did he place a curse atop himself? Did his worst fear come true as soon as he spoke of it? 

Are you gone?

Oh God, are you gone?

“Yongbok,” a familiar voice speaks, and life resumes its course inside his feeble body.

“Seungmin,” he speaks the name in relief, a breathtaking smile blooming on his face. He sees the scrunch in Seungmin’s eyebrows relax ever so slightly, before a placid look drapes across his face again.

“Why did you do it?” Seungmin asks and Yongbok’s grin falters. 

“Did they send you?” he asks, a hint of apprehension filling his words.

“No, I came to bring you back.”

“What?”

“I will fly you back and you will kneel before them and apologize. And you will vow to never speak to humans again, and it will be forgotten.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why are you— “Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “they are humans,” he says the words in disdain, as if looking down at them from atop an unreachable altar. 

“I know they are.” 

“They are weak. Driven by things they cannot touch or see.”

“And I love them for it.”

Seungmin frowns. “You’re defending them.” 

“Seungmin,” he sighs tiredly, “why are you doing this?”

“Because I'm trying to help you. This, emotions, feelings, love. It isn't worth the pain they will end up causing you.”

Yongbok scoffs loudly, angrily. “What do you know about love?”

“You think you are special? You think you’re the first angel to go through this? I loved someone too Yongbok!'' Seungmin yells, taking him completely by surprise. “And they had him get in a car accident to punish me for it. I still hear the screeching tires; I still see his skull fracturing against the ground. I had to beg— beg for them to rewind the seconds and bring him back to life. And all for what?” he scoffs, grabbing Yongbok’s shoulders and shaking them. “You are on cloud nine because this is something new for you, you think that those humans would ever accept you? But you are wrong! Tell me, what’s an angel to a human?”

The shout that leaves Yongbok’s throat is a foreign one to his being. “That doesn't matter to me!” he yells, pushing away his hands. “Look me in the eyes, ask me, what’s a human to an angel? I’ll tell you it’s everything. Everything if it’s her.” 

“This will ruin you. They will kill you, Yongbok. She will be your demise.”

“I’d rather die by her hands than live by yours.”

“What if she ends up dying by your hands?” Seungmin speaks calmly, coldly. Yongbok feels the ground give up beneath his feet. “What if in the process of hurting you they end up hurting her, what will you do then?”

“I… they won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I don't love her.”

“Who said anything about love?” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head. He looks almost desolate, somewhat that terrifies Yongbok even more. “You have your answer, I fear they have theirs too.”

Seungmin walks away, pauses, before turning back once more. He hesitates to speak, and in the seconds of silence that ensue, Yongbok discovers how terribly heavy fear is to bear. 

“I’m sorry, Yongbok.”

His tongue is heavy as it moves to ask— “what for?” 

“For the things yet to come.”