#while also desperately wanting her to remember because sure this Zen guy seems rich and nice but ALSO MAYBE YOU COULD LOVE ME??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sabraeal · 3 years ago

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Not Necessarily a Virtue

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Practical Magic AU

There hadn’t been a plan when Obi picked up the phone.

All it had taken was one rogue text-- another case assigned to his social worker, one that was enough of an emergency that it his behavioral issues seem tame in comparison. Her chair rattles when she stans, its plastic back hitting the filing cabinets with a metallic tang, but her hands tremble more.

“This will be just a minute,” she says, smile plastered tight to her face. And then she leaves him there alone, his file open on her desk, flaws left out for the world to see.

It doesn’t bothered him. There’s no point, not when he already knows: he’s trouble with a capital-T, each failed family drawing him closer and closer to being unplaceable. Some people have a face only a mother could love, but Obi-- Obi has that for his personality. Though considering how each of his six almost-moms signed him away with a sigh of relief, walking out the plate glass doors without even a glance back, maybe he has the sort of personality that makes people reconsider whether they could be a mother.

So here he is again, freshly abandoned, back in the sterile halls of social services for the seventh time without a place to call home. He’s not even twelve.

Not that these people aren’t trying to change that-- he’s not some cat left at the shelter, free to a good home. Unless Kerry or Janine or the girl at the desk he didn’t get to read the name tag of wanted to sleep on their couch, they have to find someone to take him for the night. And he knows from experience, there’s always a family that believes they can change him. A young couple who thought all problem children needed was just a little extra love. By the time Kerry came back, there’d be good news waiting, a miracle crafted by three people who didn’t want to miss the Masked Singer finale. They’d pack him into the back of a car and ship him off to a new place to fail. Because no matter how many homes they tried to make for him, it’d never change how he felt.

Obi had tried, at first. He was just a little kid, wanting to be loved, but every home he went to itched like hives in his head, a constant buzz that set his teeth on edge and made him do anything, try anything to leave. He belonged somewhere else, somewhere not here, and he knew it like he knew Kerry’s other case had overdosed on a bottle of sleeping pills in his foster mother’s cabinet-- with an inexplicable certainty.

He waits thirty seconds after she leaves before he slides off the the plastic seat she’d put him in. They love these things, oddly shaped and in primary colors that make the little kids giddy, but Obi hates them. He’s undersized, and putting him in these kiddie rooms always makes people treat him like he’s eight instead of eleven, asking him about Blue’s Clues.

But that’s not why he gets up, not entirely. There’s a buzzing in the back of his brain, a knowing, and it makes him stand, his hand straying to the glass door. He can’t see anything outside, at least not anything besides more kiddie chairs and offices, but he steps out nonetheless. He steps out and, unerringly, turns to face the girl waiting for him down the hall.

“It’s you.” Her tawny hair stresses the elastic she’s trapped it in, too thick. It’s not one of those hair ones either, but one of those thick rubber bands they use on the produce in grocery store. It hurts; he knows because it’s common sense, but also because he just...Knows. Their eyes meet, and even though he doesn’t her name, they’ve known each other forever.

His mouth is dry when he asks, “Do you know me?”

“I saw you in a dream.” She takes a step toward him, her sneakers scuffed and worn, just like his. “You’re Obi. I’m Torou.”

He doesn’t know this girl. There’s a hundred ways she could get his name; one of them is sitting on a desk behind him right now. But when she looks up at him with eyes he’s only ever seen in the mirror, he holds out his hand. “Come here.”

His heart pounds with each mincing squeak of her sneakers on the tile. She’s taking too long and she’s coming too fast; each terrible second convinces him he’s making a mistake at the same time he’s doing what he was always meant to do. By the time she slips her hand into his, he’s trembling, but it doesn’t matter because they both are and this--

This is right. And he knows exactly what to do.

It’s holding her hand that he picks up the phone. He fucks it up the first time-- he gets that gross digital buzz before he notices the sticker beneath the speaker, informing him 9 dials out-- but the second one his fingers guide him, releasing the number he has no reason to know. A number he has no reason to believe will work, that could have just come from the weird recesses of his mind but--

But he’s not surprised when a man picks up. “Who is this? Do you know what time--?”

“We’re here,” Obi says, and it shouldn’t be enough, but it is. “Come pick us up.”

A specter arrives on the front walk at noon.

Obi knows by the hush in the office. Or really the weight of it-- it’s been quiet like this since last night, since he and Torou sat down on the big bean bag couch in the waiting room, and Obi announced they wouldn’t be letting go. His case worker had crouched in front of them, that sweet smile plastered to her lips, and told him that they’d only have to be separated for a night. But he’d known-- the way he always did-- that every word was a lie. His fingers tightened in her grip, narrowing his eyes until the woman shivered, and that was that.

Kerry stayed with them, of course; she’d slept in her office, under a blanket it’s clear she’s never used and had only just discovered wasn’t comfortable no matter how many Sesame Street characters were on it. They’d been tucked under another by a younger girl with trembling hands, her eyes darting between them as she smoothed out its edges. He’d heard them through the walls this morning while the rest of the office filtered in-- government buildings like this were always cutting corners, leaving things like this paper thin, stuff that would go up like tissue in a fire.

Do you think they’re twins? one asked. Trembling hands, he guesses, since her voice does as well, like a chihuahua in a sweater. I’ve heard about this happening with twins. They look and just know.

Can’t be, we have their birth certificates, says another. Kerry, probably; she might be a liar, but she’s one of the only people in this place that has her head screwed on right, too. Two different sets of parents.

And the man they called last night? This one is stern; their manager maybe. He’s not really sure how this all works; he’s not even twelve, and he can only just know so much. Who is he?

There’s a heavy pause. I...I don’t know.

So when he arrives, dressed like an undertaker and holding an umbrella beneath the bright New Mexico sky, the whole place goes quiet. When he walks it’s stiff, like it took a hundred volts to get him up off the table and he’s only just gotten used to the idea. Obi casts a look down at Torou, at where her hand is white knuckled in his, and thinks about how he knows things, and wonders just what she might be able to do.

The man enters, umbrella folding in a single neat motion, before he says. “I am Lata Forenzo. I believe you have my...niblings.”

Niblings, Obi learns, is like siblings, only sideways.

“It was a simplification,” Lata says, his voice a deep, hesitant gravel. He casts a speculative look at the taxi driver, adjusting the gloves on his hands. “Niece and nephew is an unwieldy phrase, and time, after all, is of the essence.”

“Is it?” Torou’s eyes are wide, and for the first time since last night, her hand leaves his, gripping on to the cloth at Lata’s knee. “Is there something after us? Those bugs, they’re not--”

“No.” Obi’s known his uncle for barely more than a half hour, but he knows he isn’t a tactile person. Even still, Lata looks down at Torou, his not-gold eyes somehow softer, and puts two fingers over the bones at the back of her hand. “But it is time to bring you home.”

Home is an island. It takes the whole night to fly in, and when they land the sun is just barely scratching the sky. Even still, there’s no stopping; Lata bundles them straight into a cab, shushing them before they can make much more than a peep.

“We’ll be home soon,” he says, and the next time he wakes them, salt stings Obi’s nose, and he’s being carried over a threshold.

“Are we here?” he slurs. The house is weird-- angular, really, with a hall so narrow he could kick out a leg and stop them up like a cork. He nearly does, just to be cussed, but he catches Torou still wrapped up in her blanket, lolling on the couch, and says instead, “Can you let me down?”

Lata hesitates, fingers stiff where they wrap around his knees and shoulders, but he nods.

Obi’s feet-- just wearing socks now, somehow-- press on the floor, and he knows: he’s home.

“Oh,” he breathes, hands flying out to steady himself. “Oh.”

When he looks up, Torou’s eyes meet his, round and wide. “I felt that.”

Her own feet swing down-- bare-- and the moment she touches the wide old planks--

“Oh.” Lata braces himself against the wall, the sound bitter on his lips. “So it’s true. There will always be two.”

They aren’t his words, Obi knows, but they’re important. They’ve got that feel, the same as when Torou said she dreamed of him. The sort that are going to be life-changing, one way or another.

But Obi’s had enough of that today. Enough of it for a lifetime. He glances over at Torou, and she nods. “Can we go outside?”

Lata blinks, eyes pulling from the wallpaper to fix on him. After a long moment, he says, “You know where the door is.”

Obi does, somehow, and when he opens it--

It’s paradise.

Home has rules too, loads of them. It’s quiet time from nine to eight, though Lata doesn’t much care if they’re sleeping, so long as they’re in bed. Teeth have to be brushed twice a day-- he’d glowered when Obi said he had good teeth and only needed the once, standing over him for a week morning and night to see the rule stuck. There’s only one dessert after dinner; Obi balked at that one, until he’d learned that a limit on quantity wasn’t the same thing as size. He and Torou find three old sundae dishes in the cabinet and pile them high with ice cream and every topping they can find, and when they slap Lata’s down in front of him, cheeks bulging with their own towers of sweets, all he’d does is give them that small, reluctant twitch of a smile and dig in.

They have to make their beds and pick up after themselves-- this house has treated us well, Lata tells them, it’s only right we take care of it in return-- and they have to tell him if they plan to play in the yard; but in return their sheets are always clean, and dinner’s promptly at six. When they come back in, sweaty and exhausted from the summer heat, there’s always a bowl of fruit waiting for them and cold drinks.

He’d known, in the way he always does, that this couldn’t last. So when summer’s heat began to cool, he’s not surprised to see Lata waiting on for them on the veranda, mouth pulled into an even grimmer line.

“It’s time,” he says, “for a Family Meeting.”

“School,” Lata says with the sort of relish and derision only a professor like him can summon up, “is starting. Which means there are new rules.”

Fingers brush at Obi’s, and when he reaches out, Torou’s fingers knit in his. He knows what rules these will be-- his parents had them to, the only ones they’d ever made. His mother had gotten down on her knees the night before kindergarten, nails digging into his shoulders, and used a voice so dark, so unlike her, he’d dreamed of button eyes staring into his for a week. His father had tossed out their Coraline DVD after that.

“Forenzos,” Lata starts, already sounding weary, “look after each other. So you’ll walk together, both ways, and if one of you gets into trouble--” he fixes them both with a stern look-- “I expect both of you to run.”

Obi stares. “What?”

“You’ll come back right after school, unless we have previously discussed plans,” Lata continues. “You’re far too young for...cellular phones, so I expect that if you make plans with friends, you will discuss them with me the night previous, or you will come home first and ask permission. Not,” he murmurs, just barely audible, “that I expect you’ll have much trouble with that.”

“Is that...” Obi’s jaw works. “Is that all?”

“I expect you to keep up your grades.” Lata’s brow furrows, taking them in, as if he’d never once questioned whether or not they would be stellar students. As if most people don’t look at the both of them and see future high school flunk outs. “If they are slipping, I’m afraid I’ll have to limit your free time until we are able to bring them back to an acceptable level. Homework is to be done at the table, and once you are done, your time is yours until dinner.”

Torou’s hand squeezes his. “We?”

Lata blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You said ‘we.’“ She clear her throat, eyelashes fluttering with nerves. “If our grades are bad, you said we would, uh, fix them.”

“Of course.” His mouth pulls at the corners, annoyed. “How could I possibly ask you to rectify such a thing on your own? You’re already doing the best you can, if you still struggle, then it’s clearly something we both-- oh my,” he murmurs mildly, “she’s leaking.”

“Sorry,” she sobs, pink burning on her cheeks, the way it never did on his. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Lata flails out, yanking a tissue from the box, shoving it into her hand. “I just...hope that you find this all fair. I was always quite good at school, but my sisters--” he glances at them, wary-- “varied. I hope I can only...encourage you to your best.”

“But what about...” Obi snaps his teeth around the words. If he doesn’t ask, then it won’t become a rule, and his uncle can’t be disappointed when he breaks it.

The pictures on the wall prove that they’re family, that Lata truly is his mom’s brother, even if they don’t share much more than a hair color. But Obi’s never seen it, the way he does in pictures of Torou’s mom, where there’s a flick of the hand or a cock of a hip that says they spent their childhood together, inextricably intertwined forever in ways they would never understand.

But Lata raises a brow now, and he sees it, that small thread that ties him to his mom, that says brother. “About...?”

“The other stuff,” Torou blurts out, coughing down a sniff. “He wants to know what we...”

Her words peter out too, like she can’t figure out what to do with them. He can’t stop knowing, and she can’t stop dreaming, and the thought of having to pretend they can is...tiring this time, in a way it never was in the system.

His mouth wraps around the words with a curious sort of wonder. “Other stuff?”

“You know,” she mutters, so small. “The weird stuff.”

Lata jolts in his chair, spine as straight as a poker. His hands press flat against his knees, and when he looks at them, the gray in his eyes in thunderous.

“This is the most important rule,” he tells them, voice oddly resonant, “you must follow it. Promise me.”

Obi’s heart sinks into his stomach, but he nods, fingers squeezing Torou’s tighter.

Lata’s hand presses heavy on his shoulder, leather flexing over cotton. “Don’t ever hide yourselves. Not for anything. Not for anyone.” Obi dares to look up, and Lata’s gaze is waiting to catch him. “Being...normal is not necessarily a virtue. There is no shame in being who you are, none at all.”

Or what you are, he doesn’t say, but his eyes do, loud and clear. He doesn’t say what that is either, but--

Obi knows. Just like he always does.

And if he didn’t, well-- he would have found out soon enough.

It’s a small island; small enough that K-12 are all squeezed into one school, though Lata tells them that by the time they go to senior high, they might have built another. It’s still not small enough for Torou and him to be in the same class, so he drops her off at the door with promises to find her at lunch and moseys down to his own. It puts him a little behind schedule, the school bell ringing on his heels, and when he steps in--

The room goes silent. Twenty pairs of eyes stare at him, round and wide, not a single person daring to do much more than breathe.

“Forenzo,” the teacher says, faint. “You must be...the Forenzo boy.”

“Yeah.” He grips at his shoulder. “Obi.”

“You can take your seat...at the back,” she says, before hurrying to the board, eager to put her back to him.

“I thought my mom said all the Forenzos died,” a boy whispers as he passes. “Except the old man, of course.”

“No, they just left,” says the one next to them. “Chased out. Because they’re, you know...”

Obi does; he always had, even before he had a word for it.

“I don’t think a boy can be a witch,” a girl says, thoughtless and thoughtful at the same time. “They’re wizards, or something.”

“Warlocks,” scoffs another. “Don’t you know anything? And they do blood magic with little girls--”

Obi grits his teeth, eyes forward. There’s two empty chairs in the back, one in the corner by the window, and the other next to it, and he steers toward that one-- window seats always get him in trouble--

And the boy next to it scoots away, fear bright in his eyes. Obi looks back at the teacher, but she’s writing her name on the board real slow, like she’s hoping this might solve itself.

Fine, he can take a hint. He takes the window, sliding in behind the desk. The girl in front of him scoots forward too, making sure her chair doesn’t touch his desktop, and he sighs. At least they’re all getting this out of the way first.

A bag drops, right next to his seat.

“Ms Kino!” There’s a girl there, smaller than everyone else, though her voice makes her twice as tall. In the morning sun, her hair burns bright like the horizon. “Can I change my seat?”

“Shirayuki?” The teacher blinks back at them, and Obi could swear she breaks into a cold sweat. “Shirayuki, I’m not sure that’s--”

“I can’t see the board from over there,” she says, every syllable digging in its heels. “There’s glare. Because I’m so small.”

Ms Kino squints back at her, and really-- there’s no denying how small she is, at least a head below Obi and he’s nothing to write home about either. “If you’re sure...”

“Great.” She drops into her seat with a thump as loud as thunder, setting out her notebook and pencil with the sort of purposeful efficiency that says there’s no doubt she’s here to stay.

Obi slips his out of his backpack too, so quiet so the other kids will stop looking at him like he’s going to set the place on fire, but he hears, “You’re new, right?”

He looks down, and there’s the girl, smiling across the aisle. “Yeah. I’m--”

“Obi, I heard.” She leans toward him. “I’m--”

“Shirayuki.” His mouth twitches. “I also heard.”

Her smile stretches towards a grin. “You know, Ms Kino likes group projects.”

He blinks. “Does she?”

She nods. “Would you like a partner?”

“She hasn’t assigned one yet,” he says, a little lost.

“She will,” this Shirayuki says, confident. The way he is, when he knows.

He nods, slow. “All right, so for the next one.”

“To start.” She fixes him with a look he can’t get out from under. “Are you eating lunch with someone?”

“Ah, yeah.” He feels guilty about it now, for some reason. “My um. Cousin.”

She brightens. “Great. I’ll show you guys the best place to sit.”

He’s been adopted, he realizes, like the way the cats around the house aren’t. And this girl means to keep him.

For once in his very short life, Obi doesn’t mind knowing. Just like he always does.

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #practical magic au #ans #there is so much to be written for this fic and i desperately want to write all of it #like honestly consider this a teaser for a fic i COULD write #one that would involve shirayuki obi and torou being childhood friends #and obi casting a spell of forgetting #and later shirayuki finding obi and torou again #after they have possibly murdered the resurrected then killed again torou's ex #and obi trying to hide that secret at the same time he's trying to keep shirayuki from remembering #while also desperately wanting her to remember because sure this Zen guy seems rich and nice but ALSO MAYBE YOU COULD LOVE ME???#like the notes i have for this potential multichap are CRAZY i wish to UNLEASH them #also LATA/GARRACK #and also Lata ruminating on love and loss and the complicatedness of inherited trauma #but uhhhhh with magic you know how it be

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reifromrfa · 7 years ago

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RFA guys + Minor Trio are Vampires

Hey hey hey!! Here’s more Halloween HCs for you guys, written by the amazing @rainydayswriter and yours truly! It was so funny watching each other’s ideas and continuing the story and we hope you guys enjoy reading our masterpieces (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

Check out @rainydayswriter ‘s blog for more awesome content!!!

Yoosung

Yoosung protects

Seriously though, all he wants to do is make sure you’re safe and happy, so having superhuman strength and speed gives him the ability to do just that!

So?? Adorable???

Uses his powers to save cats from trees

SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK

Lol ask him to bite you and watch him have a crisis

Super speed helps him with his studies and gives him more time to play LOLOL

Maybe if he makes you immortal you won’t leave him like Rika did welp

He can see well in the dark, so no need to be afraid of the dark anymore!

Still checks under the bed for monsters though this cutie

Shapeshifts into a bat when you’re mad at him because damn it he’s just so cute you can’t yell at a little bat

With the wrong type of encouragement, you’ll have yourself a full-blown possessive vampire boyfriend, which is someone you will never be able to leave, so make this choice wisely~

If you make the decision to be with him forever

He would be so!!! Excited!!!

It’ll be like an eternal sleepover with your best friend!

Zen

Stereotypical gorgeous vampire much?

He was already handsome as a mortal, now it’s 100x harder to keep people away from him ;;;

Guess this explains the red eyes

Still an absolute theater nerd

“Careful, babe,” he’ll say with a fanged smile, “you wouldn’t want to release the Beast.”

Hates to be hungry in front of you, it makes him...hungry ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) you know exactly what we’re talking about

What if he hurts you? Or what if he frightens you? What if you find him revolting?

“Hyun, let’s be honest...you’re not revolting. You’re THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON ON THIS PLANET.”

Oh God he’d be shedding tears of joy

He doesn’t feel cold anymore, but when you guys go to the rooftop to gaze at stars he always makes sure to bring a jacket and blankets for you

Would definitely ask you to consider living an immortal life with him and he’d be elated if you agree

Of course after you’ve turned he wouldn’t be afraid of hurting you anymore and omg imagine all the broken furniture after he unleashes the beast

Jaehee

You’d have to be nothing less than superhuman to be Jumin’s assistant

So efficient in everything she does, so graceful, so breathtaking!

But you do not want to get on her bad side

Her glares alone are enough to curdle blood, but threaten the RFA and she will dispose of them without a trace

Jumin recieves a fresh bottle of red wine

When you come into her life she is shook

For so long she’s suppressed her human side to be the perfect assistant, but then here you are, supporting her and making her laugh and she’s experiencing feelings she hasn’t felt in a long time???

She gets so flustered and slightly clumsy around you especially when you compliment her it’s so cute

Going to midnight showings of Zen’s works together!!!

Is unimpressed with vampire jokes, if only because Mr. Han and Seven use them all the time

But if they make you laugh she’ll begrudgingly allow them

She’s so grateful to have you in her unlife, she will always make sure to tell you so

Teaches you all about vampire strengths and weaknesses, including ways to deter them just in case

“Feel free to use pepper spray on Seven if he bothers you too much.”

Any amount of time she spends with you is a blessing

If you bring up wanting to stay at her side forever, she’ll sit you down for a ~serious discussion~

Giving up mortality is a big decision! What if you grow tired of her? Or can’t handle outliving the world around you?

But you want to stay by her side! There’s no changing your mind! You want to protect her as she protects you!

She’s not crying, you’re crying

Okay you’re both crying

Jumin

Tells the most vampire puns, in a totally flat voice and with a totally straight face

“MC, who do you think should be my...necks victim?”

-____________________- Jumin no.

Loves hearing your heart beat faster when he’s close to you

So classy, he drinks blood from wine glasses

It makes sense that’s he’s so rich, he’s had a century to accumulate his wealth

Neck fetish

Jaehee gets a heart attack everytime she enters his office because it’s always so dark

You once visited him in the office and when you came in it was dark

And Jumin whirls around in his chair, stroking Elizabeth the 3rd in his lap with a sinister smile on his face

“Velcome to my lair, MC.”

*facepalm* *roflmao*

But you love this man so much

His staff would be afraid of him but they’re so jealous at how he seems to look effortlessly young and handsome all the time

Regarding immortality, he would want to spend the rest of his life with you but of course he would ask for your consent first

And maybe ask you to sign an agreement contract or two ;;;

Saeyoung

Can be goddamn brooding if he’s alone with his thoughts for too long

Mixes lingo from different eras on purpose

Abuses his godlike strength by constantly sweeping you off your feet

Ask him if he sparkles like the vampires in Twilight

He’ll roll around in glitters and take you to the park, where everyone can marvel at his sparkly skin put your shirt back on you’ve made your point Saeyoung

LOVES cosplaying as Edward Cullen

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb” *eyebrow wiggle*

Saeyoung stahp

He will have his broody moments though and he’ll try to push you away because he’s dangerous

An immortal hacker/secret agent,you sure know how to pick ‘em MC

Drives Vanderwood insane because he can make a dozen dog robots in two hours but not finish his work???

If you try to ask him any vampire-related questions, you will never get a straight answer

“Are you afraid of garlic?”

“GAELIC??? MC I KNOW HOW TO SPEAK GAELIC WHY WOULD I BE AFRAID OF IT??? GOD SEVEN FEARS NO LANGUAGES!!!!”

Sigh. “What about running water?”

“Jeez, MC, if you think I stink just tell me. No need to be rude.”

You give up

On a more serious note, he’d go back and forth between wanting you to be with him forever and wanting you to live an actual life

Contents himself with just being around you for a short while, he’ll bow out at soon as you seem to grow tired of him

To prove your love for him, you make him turn you into a vampire, that way you’re also indestructible and you can live out the rest of your life with him

There’s something poetic about someone who can’t show up in pictures and old mirrors putting his heart and soul into recreating the world around him through art

With immortality in play, he wants to catch as many moments as he can before they pass by

If you sketch him, he will be so moved because A. he hasn’t seen his own face since becoming a vampire and B. he’s never been the model

Omg V if only you knew you’re as beautiful as your photographs

Have you ever wondered why V is his nickname?

He has to change aliases every few decades and he decided to use the letters of the alphabet; he’s on V now lololol

Knows all the best places and he’ll take you around the world with him

His vampire abilities will only be used for good and for helping others

And also taking photos

“V, please don’t lean so far off the edge” ;;;

“I’m fine, MC. You don’t have to--”

Falls off the cliff

It’s a good thing he doesn’t bleed. Or die.

Would love to spend forever with you but he would never pressure you; would also feel guilty for even thinking that ;;;

But when you reassure him for the millionth time that you love him and want to spend an immortal life with him he finally turns you into a vampire

He spends eternity marveling at the beauty of the world with you and he will do whatever it takes to make you happy and keep you by his side

Saeran

Typical secluded vampire, prefers to venture out in the dead of night

Embraces dark aesthetics

Death toll rises when he’s in a bad mood/thirsty

So intimidating, nobody will ever dare messing with you even when he’s not around

They learned the hard way

He loves looking at the sky so being under the sun doesn’t bother him

He loves looking at you more though

And he’s so stiff and awkward around you because he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you

Like that time when he held your hand and you ended up at the hospital coz he broke your fingers ;;;

He’s cold to the touch so he doesn’t know what to do when you’re shivering

Will wrap you in a blanket as slowly and gently as he possibly could

By the time he’s done you probably have icicles hanging down your nose lololol

Or he would wear a jacket or a coat when you guys go out so he could offer them to you if ever you get cold

He wants you to stay with him forever and will probably be the least shy or guilty about it

You’re the only person who understands him and accepts him and he’s head over heels in love with you

The thought of living forever without you seems lonely and desolate

He doesn’t even remember how he spent all those centuries without you

Your becoming a vampire would mean the world to him

And omg get ready to experience Saeran in all his glory ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

No more holding back! He’s been dying lol no jk he can’t die to hug you and now he holds you every chance he can

Saeran smiles more now and he sincerely looks forward to your future together

Vanderwood

Super speed is used to clean Saeyoung’s room faster

Super senses to track down Saeyoung when he’s avoiding work yet again

Will probably compel Saeyoung to finish his work when he’s desperate ;;;

He’s equivalent to ten bodyguards so you’re always safe

He has a lot of enemies thanks to his job though, so Vandy prefers having you in his line of sight at all times

Even if it means stalking you sometimes ;;;

He gives you his favorite taser so you can defend yourself

Pfft you wouldn’t have to though, Mary Vanderwood the 3rd has you covered

He’ll be like Saeyoung sometimes, trying to act detached and say mean things to get you to stay away from him

But he’s the one who can’t stay away from you

Won’t encourage you to become immortal like him because he doesn’t want you to regret it after a century

But if you choose to be with him, Vanderwood will be so happy and he will love you and protect you for all eternity

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rainydayswriter · 7 years ago

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RFA + Minor Trio as Vampires

Another writing collab with the wonderful @reifromrfa! She’s so incredibly talented, check out her blog for so much more Mystic Messenger writing! It was a blast to write, so I hope you enjoy it ^^