#i have a whole Thing with forget-me-nots so it seemed fitting to use that as part of my silly introduction ;^^ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tootiredmotel · 3 years

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Give him the real thing

For @floral-cas 's event!!! First time writing from an outsider/oc's pov so bear with me. Huge huge congrats on your milestone K!!! You are a PILAR of this lil community and we all love you 💚🌺💚🌺💚🌺

Read on ao3. 1.7k words

"Alright, uh… confession. I got no idea what I'm doin' here."

He looked around the shop like a monster was about to pop out of any corner. Like the carnations were going to bite him and the pots lined up on the windowsill next to them would come to life and crush his feet. The poor guy looked terrified, but it's nothing Maya hadn't handled before.

"That's what I'm here for. What's your name?" She asked, sensing they'd be there a while.

"Dean."

On any other day, Maya would've been resenting a burly, middle-aged guy with no idea what he wanted coming into the shop twenty minutes before closing, especially on a Thursday. Jade had their A.A. meetings on Thursdays so Maya was alone for the evening. But this Dean guy? He looked so lost, so nervous, so utterly out of place. There was something else about him that made her want to help, too. Maya wasn't sure what, but she'd figure it out.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Maya. Let's start with this: why are you here today, Dean?"

"Anniversary tomorrow."

Concise and to the point. Maya made a mental note. She also noted how he wiped his palms on his jeans and clenched his jaw. Nerves.

"How many years have you been together?"

That got a smile out of him. "A lot. A whole lot. But this is, uh. First wedding anniversary."

She donned a wide smile. "Congratulations. That's wonderful."

"Yeah. Thanks, thank you." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, still not meeting her eyes.

"Doing anything special?"

"Nothin' fancy. My brother and his wife are taking the kiddo for the night so, picnic in the backyard, lookin' at the stars, all that cheesy romantic crap."

His words didn't match his tone. It was evident Dean was absolutely smitten, Maya recognized the look, and he was making an effort. He was filled to the brim with giddiness and adoration for this person, and it shone through from him just thinking about them. Jade still looked at Maya like that every morning and night, and so did Maya at them. Every day since freshman year of college. Maya's chest swelled.

"Thing is," Dean continued, a bit more relaxed now. "Cas knows all about this stuff. We got this huge garden behind the house that I'm not allowed to even touch. There's a million books about nature and trees and flower meanings on the shelf, and Cas has read all of 'em. I didn't even know flowers had meanings, I don't know jack shit about any of it, but…"

"You want to impress Cas."

"I wanna impress Cas. It's gotta be good."

"You've come to the right place then." Maya kept an eye on Dean as she circled the counter. He was studying the pride flags hanging in the window with a clenched jaw, and Maya went on alert. She pulled out the binder they kept in the drawer and plopped it down in front of him a little harder than she needed to, calling his attention. "My partner Jade is more of a nerd about this stuff than I am, but they made this for situations like these."

Dean read the cover, Jade and Maya's Quick Guide to Flower Meanings, and smiled. "Nice."

They spent forty-five minutes walking around the store, binder in hand, slowly constructing the message Dean wanted to convey with his bouquet. He was adamant on it containing blue, so Maya went for the Forget-me-nots first. “Love and hope,” said the binder, which she deemed fitting enough for a first wedding anniversary.

Dean looked like someone content with his life, and he agreed when Maya suggested they look under the happiness category. “Well, Cas makes me happy,” he said, and they settled on Felicias, also blue.

Dean eventually got comfortable enough and leaned over to look at the binder in Maya’s hands. “Think there’s anything in there for grace?”

Highly specific, but possible, Maya thought. “Let’s find out.”

And they did. Plumerias, white.

“Anything else?” She asked him. Dean donned a thousand-yard stare as he thought about it, and Maya figured this man had been through a lot. More than she could ever imagine. She was glad he’d found some peace.

“Freedom,” Dean said finally. Freesias, white as well.

It was an odd bouquet, Maya admitted, but Dean was an odd man, and he looked happy with it. He was still nervous, still out of his element, but there was more excitement in the twinkle of his eyes than anything else.

“Cas will love it,” Maya assured him, and he beamed. She still knew very little about this Cas person— Dean could speak a lot without really saying anything, careful and reserved, even dancing around using gendered pronouns for Cas, which Maya found interesting—, but she could see Dean was living a happy life as their husband. That was good enough for her.

“Here’s hoping,” he said as he handed over his credit card, but he seemed a lot more sure than hopeful. He knew Cas would like it, and Maya couldn’t help a sense of pride grow inside her. Dean also put some cash in the tip jar and left with a smile. A good day’s work, and maybe a new friend in town.

---

“Maya?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Jade poked their head in the door, beaming at Maya as she ran the books in the back room.

"There's a gentleman asking for you."

"By name?"

Jade nodded. Maya sent them a questioning look, to which they just shrugged. If Jade wasn't all that worried about it, Maya supposed there was no reason for her to be either. She made her way out, squeezing Jade's hip as she passed them, and stepped up to the counter. The trenchcoat-clad man smiled at her.

"Maya?"

The depth of his voice caught her by surprise, but she recovered in time to reply "That's me."

The man smiled wider. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Cas. You might not remember, but last week you-"

"Did you say Cas?" Maya couldn't contain her interruption, or the eagerness as she asked: "Dean's Cas?"

Cas's smile widened even more, which she didn't think was possible. It was blinding, and Maya, even in all her queerness, could definitely understand what Dean saw in him. "That's right."

Dean’s fixation on blue flowers suddenly made sense too, as she noticed his eyes. "He adores you, you know. You're his heaven and earth."

Cas's smile faltered at her words, and Maya feared she'd said something wrong.

"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping."

“No, no, it’s alright.” He looked down at his wedding band, and his smile returned. “He’s all that and more to me.”

Cas stared at his ring for a second longer. It was silver and had a small blue gem embedded into it. Maya could swear it appeared to swirl with light.

“Dean spoke wonders of you,” she said.

He looked back up at her. “You, too.”

She blinked in surprise at that.

“I loved the bouquet. I thanked him for it, over and over, and every time he said you were the miracle worker. That he was clueless the whole time and couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s not true,” Maya deflected, a steady heat rising to her cheeks. “He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. And, if anything, he and I couldn’t have done it without Jade’s expertise.” She gestured toward her partner, helping a customer at the other end of the shop, and also tapped the binder, which was out on the countertop today.

“Then I suppose I’m here to thank both of you.”

He reached into a tote bag that Maya hadn’t noticed he was carrying and pulled out a plastic container. “We run a small baking business out of our home. These are on me. Apple and honey tarts.” He placed the container in front of her. On top of it was a label that read D&C’s Pastries. “They are also gluten-free, just in case.“

“What’s going on?” Jade asked, approaching Maya’s side with an expectant smile.

“Jade, love, do you remember Dean? From last week?”

“You told me about him, yeah, wedding anniversary.”

“Well this is Cas,” she gestured to him.

“Dean's husband,” Cas interjected. Jade and Maya shared a knowing smile. “I just wanted to drop these off as a thank you for helping Dean. Apple and honey tarts, gluten-free.”

“That is so sweet of you,” Jade exclaimed, eagerly taking the pastries. Maya rolled her eyes fondly at the pun, which Cas didn’t seem to catch.

“I was just doing my job,” Maya said. “But thank you.”

“Papa!”

They all turned to the child, blond and adorable, running excitedly toward Cas. At the door, where the child came from, stood an exasperated Dean.

“Jack,” Cas started, scooping the child in his arms. Jack wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck. “I thought I told you and Daddy to wait for me at the café, I wasn’t going to be long.”

“He missed you. We both did,” Dean gazed at him as he approached. “Dude, what are you-”

Dean scanned over the scene he’d just walked into and seemed to realize what was happening.

“So that’s what the tarts were for. Hey, Maya.”

“Hi, Dean.”

“And you must be Jade,” Dean said, extending a hand toward them.

“Yes! Heard about you, nice to finally meet you, Dean.”

“You too. You and that book of yours are life-savers. If I’d known the tarts were for you guys, I would’a made more.”

“These are more than enough, thank you. In fact, here...” Maya turned to a vase of daisies they had on a shelf and pulled out three. “Now I feel like we’re even.”

“Not by a long shot,” Dean said as he took his flower and Cas’s. He put his behind his ear, and Cas’s in his trenchcoat’s lapel, as Maya handed Jack his own flower.

They all promised to not be strangers, and kept their promise. Dean and Cas would bring over baked goods, and in exchange, Jade and Maya would let them take home a potted plant for their garden. Jack would always leave with a small flower in his hand, a different one every time, wrapped in Cas’s arms as he explained the flower’s origins or symbolism to his son. Dean would be the last one out the door, always turning back and mouthing a “thank you” to Maya. Every time, without fail.

And every time, Maya would think that she wanted what they had. Happiness, peace, a family, unconditional and true love. And every time, she would look over at Jade, and know she was well on her way.

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

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Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It��s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

#reader insert #monster romance #female reader #monster x reader #vampire x reader #my writing #vampire

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

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Post rule of wolves, about Zoya and Nikolai being soft with each other in one of the many moment of hardship they face. Zoya gets a letter that unsettles her and leans on Nikolai to face more of her demons and move on. I love how Zoya is slowly learning to open up and face her wounds, and how Nikolai is there to catch her. Feedback are always appreciated, so much love to you all

the blood in our veins - ao3

When the sound of leaves crunching under someone’s steps reached her, Zoya did not startle. She knew Nikolai would appear at some point, as he always did, as if he could sense her despair. Or as if someone played the snitch on my escape, more likely. He was the only one to have the key, beside her, and the only one to know she would take refuge here. For a moment, she lingered on what a strange sight she was making; a steel spined harpy perched amongst the wildflowers, her kefta smeared by dirt and pollen, her eyes trained on the ground and a sprout in her hands. She felt his intense gaze on her, his worry. The scent of his skin; Nikolai always tasted like salt and sunburnt skin, like the sea.

“Who ratted me out?”, she asked. He lowered himself toward her, brushing a kiss on her head before kneeling beside her on the ground.

“Tamar”, he answered, “told me you got a letter and dismissed the meeting.” More like run away from it. She would have to thank Tamar for her regard.

Zoya clicked her tongue. A letter. Her hand went in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Nikolai. She sensed his concern turn into outrage. Zoya knew it was a matter of time before Sabina reached out to her. After all, her daughter had just become the queen of Ravka. There was no hope left in her heart that her estranged mother would not try to exploit this particular advantage. As long as she was not dead, she supposed. Which, as far as she knew of, could very well be. As it turned out Sabina was not the one Zoya should have been wondering about.

“It’s a long list of arrogant pleading. Get to the end”, she instructed Nikolai. Zoya glanced at him and saw him shook his head with a sigh when he came to the last lines.

“Zoya – “, he tried, his tone insecure, weary of what was the right thing to say. Was there a right thing to say when you lost a father you had already wiped from your mind? The word lost probably was not even fit for the situation.

“He’s been dead a couple of years, apparently. She did not even bother to say how.”

There was no grief left inside her to tug at. No sentiment to pull and mourn over. Nothing left for them, for him. There was just a void lurking next to the well inside her, in which so many stones had tumbled. It was not endless anymore; it stopped right beside her, where Nikolai’s light flooded in through the cracks in her walls. Zoya tried to look for something to hold on to, something to guide her over this empty sea of nothingness. No love, no regret, no pain. The sorrow in the well had always been for Lilyiana, for Lada. For David, for the Grisha, maybe even for herself. A monument to her solitude. None of it was dedicated to the two young people who had given her breath. Yet she felt the void, like it had form and claws that pierced at her heart. Its fingers tied around her throat, squeezed the air out of her lungs.

“I thought maybe I should plant something for him, too. I – I don’t know.”

She murmured. Her voice came out more frail than she had desired to, more vulnerable. Nikolai moved closer, his shoulder brushing on hers. She grasped at that touch that anchored her on this moment, that prevented her from losing herself.

“I don’t know what the Suli ritual is.” The defeat in her tone sparked a flicker of injustice. It was supposed to have been over; the child that did not look back on a wretched church was supposed to have grown. Such restless waters she had had to navigate. How does one separate hatred from fear, love from abandonment, rage from regret?

“We could find out.”

“There’s no time. There’s no time anymore.” To know him. To understand. To take the child in her hand and protect her in an embrace. Faintly, in the distance, Zoya felt Nikolai’s hand on her back, his lips landing again on her cheek.

“Why did you choose this?”, he asked, bobbing his chin at the sprout she was holding, at his light blue blossoms.

“I’m not sure”, she sighed. “When I was very little, there was always a glass of forget-me-nots on the kitchen table. My father used to bring them from the fields at sundown. He stopped before my sixth birthday.”

Zoya never knew what they meant. Her mother told her they were the colour of their eyes, weaving them in her hair. She had felt like a princess in a fairytale, with a crown of blossoms.

“Inej told me the Suli have a saying about love. Her father says that you would know a boy truly loves you when he brings you your favourite flowers. I figured that is why our house was full of them, at first. Maybe these are for both of them. Maybe I should bury my mother too.”

What a sombre, depressing thought, she half expected Nikolai to say. Instead, he just reached for her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, watching her in silence. So she forced another sentence out, one that stung to admit. “I thought I did that already the moment I set foot in the Little Palace. I thought they could float away like a river in the sea, instead I just built a dam that feels dangerously close to shatter.”

The quiet stretched on. “I don’t know what they are”, Nikolai admitted. “Your favourite flowers. I don’t know them.”

She moved her gaze to him and wondered what he was seeing. If he had already grown tired of her, of her dark moods and brooding tendencies. Those fears clutched her heart on her worst nights. Was he catching the sheer sentiment in her eyes, the fire that burned for him inside her? How she grasped at his voice like it was the thread that tied her to safety, to belonging? Whatever her failings were, Nikolai’s look never wavered. His certainty, affection. He was the one keeping the dam from falling, keeping her from breaking.

“You told me once I could be branches without blossoms and wait for the summer to come. The way you love…it’s not the fleeting beauty of petals. It’s the strength of roots.”

She spoke before having the chance to think about her words, not sure what she had wanted to convey, pressed by an unfamiliar urge to let him know. Saints, Nikolai was rubbing off on her. His eyes sparkled and he looked taken aback, a fond and surprised smile tugging at his lips. Zoya let his warmth creep into her, before moving back to look at the flowers still resting in her hands.

“I don’t have a favourite one. I like them all.”

Nikolai nodded, his fingers lingering in her hair, brushing through them. “Good to know. See? You are not such a difficult person after all.” Zoya heard him move beside her, sensed his fingers draw away. He gently pulled the plant in front of her. “Let me do it for you”, his voice soft, caring. Let me carry this weight for you. Her hands dug into her kefta, clinging into it as if it could make her remember who she was.

Nikolai pulled his gloves away. She snatched them from him, huffing impatiently. It really was an unnerving habit of his. “Would you stop with these? You do not need them around me. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Don’t take it out on my gloves”, he grinned at her. Yet, she caught the shadow sweeping through his eyes; the darkness Zoya had never wanted him to hide. He worked in silence, moving the terrain away, placing the sprouts and watering them. Zoya stood still, one hand clung to her kefta, the other tightened around his gloves, watching him as he took care of her garden for her.

“My mother was loud”, she said abruptly. Water leaking from the cracks. Nikolai’s gaze swept toward her as he kept going. There was no other person she could tell this to. Stories needed to be told, She had learned. “Sabina kicked and screamed her way into our misery. She shouted her wrath; she broke the ceramics on the floors, spewing spite. She weaved sweet lies that stuck like sap into my ears, before wiping my tears as I stood in a ridiculous ruffled dress.” Zoya sighed, seeing her memories flash in her mind. She did not want to feel this. She did not want to know. But Juris’ wisdom was unforgiving. “Her frustration, her selfishness. Everything was like thunder. Maybe that’s where I take it from.” A dry laugh escaped her lips, as she forced herself to say what she knew had been the truth this whole time. “My mother was loud. Yet, it was my father’s silence that broke me. That was what carved the hole inside of me. The way he let everything happen, his head slumped on his shoulders, his mouth shut. The emptiness of his affection. It gave me the guilt of not being enough, of not being worthy.”

Zoya kept going, averting Nikolai’s eyes. “Yelling is easy to counter. It enrages you, fires you up, picks at your pride. Silence is different; it cuts you slowly, drains your blood drop by drop, renders you powerless. How do you fight a wall made of nothing?”

His gentle touch moved to her jaw, tracing the lines of her face, grounding her to earth.

“I feel it. I can see it.” Every word she got out seemed to force a split into the void. Warmth flood in, rage went out, passing through her like a blade. The dragon's eyes had opened, whether she had wanted it or not. She felt like drowning. “How unprepared they were. How powerless. The hatred that grew around their souls like thorn wood. It’s the same they have set upon me. I do not want that. I do not want this to be their legacy for me.”

Legacy. What was hers, in this life, and what was theirs? Zoya had Sabina’s eyes, Suhm’s wavy black hair. It gave her comfort to think her pride and her strength came from Lilyiana. Her wind and lightning was born from the making at the heart of the world. What, then? What had they been like, when they were just a boy and a girl in love, dancing under the moonlight? She had shrugged her name as if she could be born anew. Tossed the memories of them as if she could build a new life. That she supposed she had done, at least. Even with this new name, this new life, something of them still remained. The poisoned blood in her veins if nothing else. She could not cut them open and change it, and she had spent her life feeling it flow like a curse through her.

“I cannot go on hating them.” The words were spoken as a shameful confession, as a defeat. As a realization too, however. Nikolai laced their fingers together, making her relent the hold on the kefta.

“Perhaps we should not hate them”, he said, careful and gentle. “Maybe the secret is that we need not pass judgment over them. Maybe the secret is to forgive them.”

Zoya shook her head at Nikolai’s relentless goodwill and optimism. He had forgiven his mother that day in Os Kervo. He had forgiven the one who was not his father, he had delivered his punishment and moved on. And Zoya? She did not have any forgiveness left in her. The hatred, though. Whatever remained of it, she guessed she could try and leave it here, with the blue blossoms thriving from the earth like forgotten hope.

Their legacy might have been just thorns, storms, and thunders. It might have been just the spite that had threatened to rot her insides. Still, it was an inheritance she could find the strength to relent. She could keep their eyes, their blood, Sabina combing her hair and Suhm telling her a goodnight story in his arms, even if she did not miss it, even if she did not remember what that felt like. Zoya was not Nikolai, she was not golden nor kind. She could not justify their weakness; she could not pardon both the screams and the silence. Maybe you could let go, though. She wasn’t sure if it was Juris’ voice or her own to cut through the mist of thoughts. Zoya bleeding in the snow. Zoya crying on her own. Let go.

The dam had broken, but the dragon queen did not drown. Hours could have passed, or minutes. Nikolai had put his jacket on her shoulders, the fabric thick and warm. He had not spoken anymore, just sat with her in the quiet as the sun disappeared. At some point, when the chill had started creeping in her bones, he had tugged her up and walked her to her chambers, dismissing the Heartrender twins who stood guard on her door with a wave of his hand. Zoya had let him handle her, leaning in his touch. Only when the lock clicked, she had let herself release her breath, slumping in her favourite velvet sofa. The crackle of the fire was comforting. Nikolai had called for tea, murmured something in her ear she did not remember. He had sat on her desk next to her, working through some documents while she got back to herself. The familiar rhythm of their quiet caught on, enveloping the room, soothing as a cold cloth on an open wound.

Time did not matter anymore. Zoya had the cup in her hands, the fire in front of her, and Nikolai’s jacket still curled around her. His scent was tight on the fabric. It lulled her into a silent calm, along with the rhythmic pounding of her heart, the sound of Nikolai’s pen scraping the paper, of his hands scribbling, the muffled huff of his breath. Peace washed over her in a tide.

“What is it like?”

Zoya suddenly spoke, after what felt like an eternity. The tea had turned cold. She kept her look trained on the fire. Nikolai stilled, relenting whatever piece of work he was doing, arching a brow at her. The question was vague, at the very best. “Not being an only child”, she added. Now his attention peaked on her.

He shuffled back the papers on her desk, got up and came to her. Moving her feet away, he eased himself on her sofa, letting Zoya stretch her legs over him, resting his hands on her calves and leaning his head on a cushion. His careful look never left her face, turned thoughtful as her question travelled his mind.

“I adored my brother”, Nikolai started, slowly, “Worshipped him. Loved him with every fibre of my being. Until I did not anymore. We were not bound, or tight, and well – we all know how that turned out. It was an embarrassment and a weight, more than an anchor like I desired him to be. And I did desire that a lot.”

Zoya looked at him. She left the cup on the nightstand; as soon as her hands were free, Nikolai snatched one of them in his. “And Linnea?”, she asked. An affectionate smile curled his lips.

“Linnea is…different. I feel the kinship – and not just because we both have a soft heart for ships. I know she is me, for some part, and I am her. She’s more grounded than me, more quiet, more practical.” He brushed a thumb over her palm, tightening the hold. “I guess that’s why she likes you. I am quite scared at how much you two get along, frankly. And she has this creative, restless energy, she is charming in her own silent way, brilliant. Sometimes it’s like I’m looking inside some sort of distorted mirror. In some life I may have had if I took a different path.”

Yet, the choices they had been forced to make forged a solitary childhood for them. A lonely boy looking for sounds to fill his deafening silence, a vengeful girl screaming her rage over lost love. Had they been choices at all? When had they stopped being their parents’ sins, and had they become their own? How long can you blame a mother’s failings, how long can a daughter or a son be defined by rage and guilt? Zoya could see the same query behind Nikolai’s eyes. He spoke again, tentative, a vulnerable edge to his voice. The lonely boy, looking for hope in the vengeful girl.

“I want her to know me. I want her to care for me, to be honest. I feel protective of her. I feel like I cannot wait to show her every wonder I know of. The wonder of life, of adventure. The wonder of romance”, he managed to wink at her, “I wish to be for her the brother Vasily never was for me. To make up for lost time. This is idiotic, right?”

He huffed at the end, as if he could dismiss the intense desire for a family that still haunted him; there was a slight plea in his look, darkened under the dim light of the fire. Zoya felt an ache in her throat, and she knew there were tears in her eyes. She could feel them clouding her sight. They belonged to the little raven-haired child that silently cried alone in a corner, in all her nightmares. It was not a cry for grief, but one of deluded wanting. She leaned in, brushing some golden strands from Nikolai’s face. He was looking at her like she was his light in the storm, even though he had just been the one to pull her back from a devouring pain.

“We should have her here more often”, she said. Nikolai wiped one of her tears away. “We should have them here more often. Linnea and your father. You deserve to have this family, Nikolai.”

Nikolai stopped his hand on her neck, grinning wider at her.

“Zoya, I already have one.” She frowned at him.

“I hardly count as a family. I am just me.”

“Then I’ll have two. So long as you stop referring to yourself as just you.” Zoya rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. He started fidgeting with a loose silver bead on her kefta’s cuff. Another unnerving habit of his, the way he always snatched those away. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I wasn’t an only child. I would have had someone to shield and someone to shelter in. To give me purpose, I suppose.”

A little brother, a little sister whom she could watch grow up and think how much better than her they were, how much softer, how much worth preserving. Though it had not been like that, for Sabina and Lilyiana. It was best not to linger on what ifs. She huffed and shifted, suddenly nervous; time to face this problem head on. “You think I should help her, right?”, she asked, knowing damn well what the answer was. Needless to say, Sabina’s letter pleaded for Zoya’s support, lamenting her misfortunes, and praising her daughter’s victories. Especially the gifts she could share. Even if she had not stated it, Zoya was sure that a jewel or two would be just fine. Greedy and hollow like she remembered.

“I think you should do what makes you comfortable.” Zoya shot him a threatening glare, and he chuckled. “Fine”, Nikolai added, “but don’t kill me. I think you’ll keep the weight on your chest as long as you do not help her. I think maybe it would bring you some peace to do it. Still, I support whatever decision you make.” He marked the last words, and she knew he meant it.

“I don’t want to be the bearer of my mother’s misery.” Zoya despised herself a little while admitting it. An exasperated grunt erupted from her as she threw her hands in the air. “How can I feel responsible for her?”

“I guess that’s the curse of being a daughter. You can’t relent the blood in your veins, not anymore that you can ignore the good heart that thrived inside you behind all of your spite.”

Maybe the secret is that we need not pass judgment over them. Maybe the secret is to forgive them.

How she loathed when Nikolai was right. It made him insufferable. And unfortunately, he was right most of the time. Unbearably reasonable. He smirked, as if he could read her thoughts and sense his victory.

Zoya might have been an angry and unloved little thing, but that was not what she was anymore. She had been a soldier, a general, a loyal friend. She was a queen now. And most certainly not alone, she thought, gazing at the confident ball of sunshine seated next to her. Had this happened before the war, before knowing Nikolai, her crueler and colder heart would have prevailed and she wouldn’t have thought twice on this, burning the letter along with her sentiment. The beaming boy had definitely rubbed off on her.

“I can not forgive her, or them. I do not have it in me. And I cannot forget, not for now”, she said, cautious. That was what Lilyiana had always desired for her: to release the hold on her anger. For her, she could try. “But I can start by letting go. We can find her work in a factory, with a salary and some retirement money. I can provide her with a dignified life. That is all I can do. I will not get a letter from her anymore; I will not grant her audience or listen to her words. Someone will have to deal with this.”

Juris roared inside her, clearly displeased. Hush, you lizard. How irritating of him. Be a dragon, bide your time and stop harassing me. Enough progress for today. Nikolai, on the contrary, smiled at her with relief, nudging her closer.

“We will arrange it.” He let her rest her head in the crook of his neck, curling his arms around her. “Do you think you can close your eyes and rest for a while now?”. His voice was already coming from afar, as she inhaled deeply in his skin and her lashes fluttered closed with exhaustion. Zoya wished her days as queen would become less tiring, and she also wished they could always end in Nikolai’s safe hold. Her mind fell silent; the last thing she heard was his whisper hovering around her. “I got you, Zoya.”

Zoya could still be a daughter, could take the raven-haired child in her arms. Daughter of the wind. She could still be whole, worthy, and loved. We see you. She could be at peace. The world went black; yet, it was not dark.

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miminorenai · 3 years

Photo

Surprised by the sudden question, I reach back into my memory, but I don’t recognize him... He hands over me something like that — “—··· I hope to see you again.”

CHAPTER 02

The man with crimson eyes “...Have we ever met somewhere?”

Surprised by the sudden question, I reach back into my memory, but...

MC “...I don’t think we ever met, probably...”

MC “Because I just came to this place a month ago...”

(...At any rate, it just doesn’t seem that I’ve forgotten. I think I’ll never forget such a beautiful person if I ever meet one.)

The man with crimson eyes “Really...?”

MC “...? Yes...Ah!”

When I *get a hold of myself, I notice that there’s a wagon with flowers is placed beside the person.

(*領き返し - 領 means territory, reign, possession, something you acquired, get hold and owned, while 返し means return, put back and restore. It’s still in hesitation, but I put my own mixture and analyzation that the sentence means ‘something that you possessed being returned and restored’, hence getting hold of herself. But if other readers have better explanation, or perhaps better translation, drop in the comments or DM, alright?

The flowers are unprotected and exposed to the snow, dyeing the petals white.

(That’s not good...!)

MC “If we let them get hit by snow as it is, the flowers might be ruined, you know? Let’s carry it over there!”

I put my hands on the wagon and run towards the eaves of the confectionery in the snow.

(...They won’t get hit by the snow here, right?)

MC “...I’m glad they are all right. It would be sad if such beautiful flowers wither.”

The man with crimson eyes “...”

The moment I feel relieved, I realized the person is staring intently at me, as if to probe into my heart.

MC “...I’m sorry. Did I do something unnecessary...”

Then, the person in front of me gently shakes his head.

The man with crimson eyes “No...thank you.”

After saying that, he suddenly turns his crimson eyes towards the flowers in the wagon, and touches the flowers with beautiful gesture.

And then, the person makes a bouquet of colorful flowers in a blink of time, as if he’s using magic.

The man with crimson eyes “Hmm, this is fine. If it’s this big, it should fit in your arms.”

The man with crimson eyes “Here, as thanks for your help.”

A big bouquet gently jumps into my chest.

MC “...I can’t afford to receive such a big bouquet. I didn’t do much...”

The man with crimson eyes “Just accept it.”

The person untied his pursed lips and smiles sweet enough to captivate me instantly.

The man with crimson eyes “Since I was so happy.”

The man with crimson eyes “Well then, I’ll go with this.”

With a delightful smile, the person puts his hand on an empty wagon and starts walking through the snow.

MC “Excuse me...”

When the person stops walking, he looks up at the sky again...and draws an arc on his thin lips.

The man with crimson eyes “Oh...the snow will stop soon.”

(Huh...?)

Staring at the similar scenery as reflected by the crimson eyes, the snow gradually becomes sparse...

Then, the snow stops.

(...It was a sudden snowfall.)

As I look up at the sky, leaving behind only the signs of snow, a clear voice flows into my ears.

The man with crimson eyes “—··· I hope to see you again.”

When I look back in a sudden, there is no one there anymore,

I feel like I’m dreaming while it was snowing...

(He was a beautiful person...)

(Somehow it seems that he’s a human, but sort of like not human too...he was such a person. Even so —)

I wonder why did he look at me as if we had met before?

(...Have we ever met somewhere after all?)

While I’m thinking about it, I heard footsteps right next to me.

Leonardo “I’m sorry to have kept you keep waiting, Mimi. Huh...? What’s with that big bouquet?”

Leonardo “Leonardo-san! To tell you the truth, just now —”

***

Leonardo-san grunts and stifles his laughter as I tell him the whole story of what happened while it was snowing.

Leonardo “I think he was happy with your kindness. ...Hmm?”

Leonardo's fingertips touch the light blue petals that bloom quietly among various kinds of flowers.

Leonardo “Forget-me-not flowers shouldn't bloom in such a cold winter. Is he growing them in a greenhouse? Or.”

Leonardo “—*Off-season flowering, huh.”

(*狂い咲き - 狂い means insanity, madness and crazy while 咲き means to bloom. Literally it means a crazy flower that’s blooming out of order

Shakespeare sets foot into an old castle and finds the lord of the castle in a beautiful garden.

Vlad “···— 𝅘𝅥𝅮 ···”

Wearing a coat that’s darker than the night, the figure that’s gazing on the flowers illuminated by the moon is so beautiful that you leave it as it is.

Slowly approaching, Shakespeare stands next to Vlad and opens his lips.

Shakespeare “My lord, is there anything good happened to you?”

Vlad “Yeah, something really nice.”

Nevertheless...as he mutters, the pair of eyes with different colors directed his gaze towards the flowers that are blooming in the flower bed.

Shakespeare “Forget-me-nots shouldn’t bloom in this season, and this flower too. ...Ah, this flower too.”

Shakespeare “How on earth are you growing them...?”

Vlad “Rather than that sort of thing, it’s rare for you to come here, Will. Don’t you have something to talk about?”

Shakespeare “...”

Shakespeare’s expression becomes stiff when a straight gaze is directed towards him.

After a seemingly eternal silence, a faint shaking voice echoes through the night.

Shakespeare “In search for tragic real experiences for my creation, on that day I left the mansion...I joined hands with you.”

Shakespeare “I’m in pursuit of tragedy, while you’re trying to revive the great men for your ambition. Our interests were aligned.”

Shakespeare “My heart was certainly moved by the person you revived for your experiment.”

Vlad “...”

Shakespeare “But things like disregarding lives and treating them with disdain, I just can’t accept it no matter what.”

Shakespeare “...I understand that it’s a selfish excuse, but I don’t want to get my hands dirty anymore —“

Vlad “Hey, Will.”

Shakespeare “...?”

Vlad “Do you know why forget-me-nots came to be called by this name?”

Although confused by the sudden question, Shakespeare easily/leisurely repeats the words.

Shakespeare “Knight Rudolph tried to pick flowers that bloom on the river quay for his lover, but...he accidentally fell into the river.”

Shakespeare “I know it got its name from the anecdote that was left behind saying [Don't forget me] at that time.”

Vlad “Yes, that’s correct. As one would expect, a rare playwright has an extensive knowledge.”

Vlad “I think, the great men in the Count’s mansion look a lot like this flower.”

Vlad “Although their lives have ended once, they were afraid that their existences would disappear from this world.”

Vlad “That straightforward obsession so far as cruel and abnormal has brought them back to life again. Hey, Will.”

Shakespeare “...Yes.”

Vlad “They will surely be the cornerstone to grant this heartful ambition. That’s why I have to choose.”

Vlad “—··· A strong person to help me, right? I thought you understand what I wanted to do.”

His voice is calm like a calm sea, but the air Vlad’s cladded in is too sharp and ferocious...,

But Shakespeare raises his voice to encourage himself.

Shakespeare “I can’t dance in your palm anymore, but I’m the first one who took your hand.”

Shakespeare “If you want to kill me, do it then. Since for you...I’m an unnecessary flower.”

Vlad’s hands extend towards Shakespeare’s neck.

Shakespeare “— !”

But, the beautiful hands on his small neck move away on a whim.

Shakespeare “...Why...”

Vlad “’Cause it seems like a severe punishment for Will is to continue living and suffering. See you then, Will.”

When Shakespeare’s figure disappears, the footsteps of Charles and Faust echo in replace.

Faust “Is it fine to overlook the playwright easily, Your Excellency? It seems to me that the treatment is very sweet...”

Charles “Lord Vlad has Lord Vlad’s own *consideration. Isn’t that right, Ōsama?”

(*考え - thought, idea, intention, expectation

Responds with only a smile, Vlad turns his beautiful crimson eyes towards the night sky.

Vlad “The world is still beautiful today. That’s why I can’t give up this ambition in my heart.”

Vlad “We still have a long way to go, but...I’m sure it will be done.”

Charles & Faust “...”

Without minding both of them who are becoming speechless at the profile with appalling madness in his beauty,

Vlad straightly crouches down on the spot and watches forget-me-not flowers intently.

Vlad “Don’t forget me, huh. Did that girl forget about me?”

Vlad “We met on a distant snowy day...”

Charles & Faust “...?”

Vlad “I hope we can meet again. Fuaa~...”

Charles “Eh, Ōsama?”

Charles “...He falls asleep.”

Faust “Sleeping in a place this, after muttering an incomprehensible monologue.”

Faust “Truly a selfish old man. Shall, I’m going back.”

Charles “Eh, let’s carry him, Doc.”

Faust “If you leave him alone, it seems that he’ll wake up soon.”

Charles “Eh? People would usually die if we leave them behind in this cold winter.”

Faust “Your Excellency is unusual, so there’s no problem.”

Charles “But, he’ll catch a cold, right?”

Faust “Haa~ He’s really such a troublesome old man.”

The profile of Shakespeare who’s leaving the castle is as lifeless as a doll.

As he looks up at the night sky with dark eyes, the moon, which is about to transform into a full moon, comes into view and brings back a certain memory.

A month ago, a woman who appeared in front of him in what sort of fate, was an ordinary human without any talents.

Vlad doesn’t need that kind of person...he thought so, and didn’t give any information about Mimi.

— That’s to say, he put up a façade.

Somehow she felt like a factor that could change this chaotic situation, for better or worse.

He felt that even God didn't know if Mimi’s fate and that beautiful person would cross.

Shakespeare “What can I do right now is keeping an eye on what’s about to occur after this, and if anything happens, I’ll *firsthand —”

(*身を以て - with one's own body/action/experience

Every time I went to the city from that snowy day, my eyes came to search for that person who looked like a snow spirit.

However —

(...Isn’t it hard to find him in this big city?)

(If only I asked for his name at least, I could get a clue to search for him.)

I want to convey a proper gratitude for giving me an armful of flowers.

Also...I can’t put it well into words, but I wish to meet that person again, truly from my heart.

MC “I don't know when, but...I want to see you again."

As I mutter alone, I could smell something like floating spring mixed in the winter air.

When I follow the scent that gives color to the cold winter —

The man with crimson eyes “...”

The person is beside the wagon with plenty of flowers, as if he’s bringing along the spring.

(...At last, I met him.)

As I approach him, his crimson eyes slowly catch me —

The man with crimson eyes “I found you ‘again’, after all.”

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevam vlad #vlad #i haven't read much yet #but mc definitely meeting the little vlad through the door lol #hence not the 1st meeting for vlad

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lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

Text

Paper flowers: The little things

In life it’s often the little things that make the difference between a good day and a bad one. Your best friend and the person you just cant stand to be around.

This chapter Patton especially is confronted with how the smallest actions can cause big changes.

In the imagination, it’s noticing the little things that gives the nemessis an advantage.

Virgil was looking up at the clouds passing by in the purple sky of the field. In the edges of his vision he could see flowers in several hues of red and purple.

Suddenly a shadow fell over him and a face entered his vision.

It was Roman, his head cocked to the side, a smirk on his face. “S’up Princey?” Virgil smiled as he sat up. Roman sat down next to him and with a wave of his hand, a new species of purple flowers was added to the field. Forget-me-nots to be specific.

“I do appreciate the flowers Virgil, but may I ask what I did to deserve them this time?” Roman wondered curiously. He’d gotten in the habit of adding Virgil’s flowers to the field. Or well copies of them. The original flowers were held in a vase in his room. Was there a slight chance of someone walking in and seeing them? Yes. But he could play it off. Purple was a royal color and Roman only associated it with Virgil because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color in one of their early conversations, when the friendship was still new.

“Just… Felt like it…” Virgil couldn’t pinpoint it. He’d been feeling pretty down the past week and found himself grateful for Roman’s presence in his life.

The whole point of the flowers was to let Roman know Virgil valued him as a friend and a side without having to get into details.

“Well, thank you. I really appreciate your thoughtful gifts,” Roman offered looking at their doors, now each framed by rose bushes in the other’s color. Roman had considered giving Virgil the purple roses but that felt like regifting him the one he’d made him and that just wasn’t right.

He chanced a glance at his friend, gaging his mood.

"Soooo... you want to talk about what had you storming of this morning?" Roman asked casually.

Virgil sighed he should have known.

Virgil had joined breakfast more often since the first time a few weeks ago. And this morning as Roman was teasing him he called him Kevin again. Virgil had rolled his eyes and reminded Roman that that was not his name. Roman had beamed when he said he knew. He was way to proud of that. The moment of secret camaraderie was broken however by Patton suggesting they could call him Marcus if he preferred. That had set Virgil off. He'd said something about how they couldn’t force him into opening up to them and stormed off. That was less than an hour ago.

Knowing Roman, Virgil was rather impressed that he’d waited this long. He appreciated it though. It’d given him the time to calm down and sort through his thoughts.

“I just… Marcus… it’s the name of a villain. And I know that that’s what I’m going for. But… It makes me feel like I’m still stuck down there.” It was stupid, irrational, he knew. But it had triggered him none the less. “I’m fine with the character being called that. But Marcus… It’s not me.”

Roman nodded thoughtfully and let the subject go.

"Patton wasn't too upset with me right?" Virgil worries.

Roman shrugged. "He seemed mainly worried about you. I said I'd talk to you about it."

Virgil nodded. "Sorry. You shouldn't have to clean up my messes," he mutters as he plucks at the grass.

"Nonsence. Cleaning up each other's messes is half our dynamic. Sometimes you cover for me, and sometimes the other way around. You have the harder job. I get to play my overzealous Prince card. You have to play the bad guy."

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah you're right, I know you are... thanks."

Roman waved him of. "My pleasure. Oh about the next vine!"

While Roman and Virgil discussed whether they should make another video about the rivalry or another Dark lord's least hated things episode (those were very well received), Patton was pacing in the living room.

He hadn't even noticed Logan standing in the doorway, contemplating wether he should offer assistance. This was most likely an emotional driven issue and that was not his area of expertise. Then again the one having the issue was the one he'd usually alert jn such situations. Who knows a voice of reason may be the solution.

"Patton. What is troubling you?"

Patton jumped a little at the unexpected voice.

"Oh, Logan. Didn't see you there bud," he smiled tensely, trying to hide his turmoil.

Logan, wasn't fooled though. "Understandable. You were clearly preoccupied. Is there any way I could assist you?"

For a second Patton considered playing it off, he didn't want to put his worries on Logan. But if Logan noticed and found it necessary to comment on his mood, then it was probably best to come clean. And who knows? Logan was very smart. Maybe he'd help him figure this mess out.

He let out a long sigh and leg himself pretty much fall into one of the chairs. "I messed up Logan. Like in a bad way."

Logan took a seat. "If this is about Anxiety's outburst this morning, mag I remind you he's had similar if not worse fits in the past?"

Patton nodded. It was true but there were so many layers to this time. He decided to start with the one that stung the least, though it was also the one he most dreaded to admit.

"Why was he fine when Roman did it though?” he asked.

Logan frowned and thought about it. “Roman calls Anxiety nicknames all the time. You don’t. He might have taken your comment more seriously because of that.”

Patton’s eyes widened. He had been trying to explain how things worked on their side of the mind to Anxiety ever since he decided to try tough love. And thinking back, maybe his phrasing had made Anxiety think that Patton was pushing him to pick a name for them to call him.

“We could call you Marcus if you prefer.”

Patton groaned, how was he going to fix that? No wonder Anxiety preferred his fights with Roman over Patton’s attempts at friendship.

“I am sorry. Did I make it worse?” Logan wondered uncomfortably.

“No, I mean. I don’t feel better, but I’m less confused. So you are doing great actually,” Patton smiled tensely. There was another much more complicated issue he needed to talk about.

“Is there something else I can help with then?” Logan offered, hoping to make Patton actually feel better. It was the least he could do after all the effort Patton regularly put in trying to make everyone comfortable, even if he wasn’t always successful.

Patton let out a long breath. “You remember when Anxiety told us he could sometimes hear us in our rooms?”

Logan nodded, he had attempted to approach the subject again, but Anxiety had made it clear that he would not answer his questions under any circumstances. A source of mild frustration, but Logan assumed that Anxiety had his reasons to deny him this research. Anxiety was usually rather open to learning how things worked if it might affect them or Thomas.

“Afterwards,” Patton continued pulling Logan back to the present. “We talked… And he gave me a chance to open up to him. To prove that I was genuine in trying to be his friend. And I hesitated. I second guessed and he… He looked so hurt, and I didn’t know what to do and I let him leave!”

Patton confessed. Just saying it out loud helped him feel a little better already.

It had taken him by surprise, the brief look of rejection and hurt on Anxiety’s face before he went back to his usual detached sarcastic self. For a second he had proof that there was more to Anxiety than met the eye, sadly that was right after he messed up a chance of bringing it out.

Logan processed that for a minute. “Patton, Anxiety is hard to predict. But, just because you’ve had a small setback doesn’t mean there won’t be any opportunities in the future. Something made him try and reach out that time. So it could happen again,” he offered. It was the most he could do. Providing a rose colored outlook would be more up Roman or Patton’s alley. All he could give was facts.

“Do you really think so?” Patton wondered hesitantly.

Logan nodded. “Undoubtedly.” And that was the truth.

Paton smiled, his eyes still slightly watery but there was once more a spark to him that made Logan relax. He hadn’t even realized he was tense until now.

“Thanks Lo. I actually feel better now,” he told the intellectual side.

Logan smiled. “A pleasure Patton.”

Both sides promised themselves to keep an eye out for opportunities in the future. Though both had slightly different motivations.

One thing was sure. Next time Anxiety decided to invite either of them in, they’d be ready. They considered including Roman but decided against him. Patient was not his strong suit.

He’d probably scare Anxiety off with well-meant enthusiasm.

The dark lord laughed maniacally. He had Prince tied up and at his mercy!

“Behold!” He exclaimed as he uncovered his surprise for the noble heir.

Prince gasped and then squealed. “Oh my goodness!!! How did you know my greatest weakness!?”

Dark lord flushed. “You said something about it in our first fight,”

Prince gasped, clearly moved. “I can’t believe you remembered,” he squeaks through an almost sob.

Important Question!!!

“I did!” Dark lord announced. Raising a hand. “And now perish!!!” he pressed a button and as he let out a scream of victory his opponent screamed in horror.

Next: Assumptions

Do you guys want Prinxiety to be romantic in this story? Let me know, through a comment an ask a dm. Any way you want. Just let me know. I can understand that some are here because of the platonic prinxiety and i don’t want to take that away unless you guys are all waiting for these to to fall in love already. So...

Prinxiety! Romantic or platonic?

Also any other ships you guys are hoping for?

#Paper Flowers ay #sanders sides #ts sides #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Prinxiety #Platonic #for now #logicality

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bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

Windflower

01|02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, fluff, angst

Word Count:1,568

Warnings: mentions of food, some swearing, mentions of past relationships/unrequited love, mentions of surgery (not in detail). General warning that its 11 pm here and for me that’s late (old lady alert) and I didn’t proofread as usual.

A/N: Another character building chapter! There is very important info about both Soobin and reader in here, so make sure you pay attention and read well!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Dinner was surprisingly good, given the two of you had just thrown a frozen pizza in the oven. He had fussed adorably over adding extra cheese to the meal before popping it into the shiny appliance. It was easy to tell Soobin still felt awkward due to almost seeing you naked because he kept at least 5 feet of distance between your bodies for a long while. His skittish nature made it difficult for you to help set the table, but you let it slide. You don't know much about him; so it felt wrong to pass judgement on the way he couldn’t even keep eye contact for a while. It was okay, though, because his behavior still managed to rustle up glee in your stomach. The pizza was one of the best meals you had eaten in days, and you thanked Soobin profusely for it. He smiled awkwardly, waving you off with a joke about owing him breakfast in the morning. His personality had brightened ten shades with the help of food and his favorite tv show on the big screen television mounted on the wall of the living room. He had a whole pint of Half Baked ice cream open on the coffee table that was just for him. He had offered to share, but you turned him down upon seeing the absolutely ravenous look on his face; worried that he would combust on the spot if you didn’t let him have the pint to himself. So you settled for watching the show absentmindedly until your mind began to wander. Intrigued by the contrast between the home’s age and the modern interior, you finally decided to ask Soobin.

“Did someone do renovations here?” You mentally slapped yourself. Well duh, Y/N. Soobin’s ancestors who posed for oil portraits that now hung in ornate golden frames certainly didn’t install the stainless steel refrigerator and pick out the large leather sectional you were currently lounging on. He didn’t seem to catch the poor wording of your question as he nodded from his spot on the couch next to you with his legs tucked underneath him. You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked sitting that way.

“Yeah, my cousin did most of that kind of stuff. He’s a few years older than me so he was able to update the house for us when he was still living here. That’s his whole thing,” Soobin wiggled his fingers in the air, “interior design. Consulted at the shop a few towns over and everything.”

“I heard that he moved, why?” The back of your neck grew hot when you realized how insensitive that question really sounded once it was said out loud. “You don’t have to answer me, by the way,” you hoped that the attempt to backtrack would be enough to curb potential awkwardness. God knows the two of you couldn’t afford any more of that.

“He met a girl online who lives a few states away and fell in love with her. He was wasting all of his money traveling back and forth to see her, so he finally decided to just move. The only things keeping him here were me and taking care of the house. I miss him sometimes, but I can’t blame him. He was starting to grow flowers for her, and she made it very clear that unless he could move to live with her, he would have to get the surgery.” Soobin’s voice had taken on a very odd tone that felt too complicated to unpack at the moment. Besides, your own chest began to burn at the mention of growing flowers.

The boy must have noticed the way you gently grasped the soft fabric of your t-shirt between your fingers as his eyes widened like a deer in headlights. He made a miniscule scooch over the leather cushions to get a bit closer to you and place a hesitant hand on your shoulder. His voice was extremely soft and quiet even for as close as he was to you.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I didn’t know that you…” he licked his plump lips as he hesitated, “Did you have surgery? You don’t have to answer me either, by the way.” Of course you had seen the question coming, but hearing it in the softest tone of voice you had ever heard from a human being struck a different chord in your heart. You couldn’t find it in yourself to confess your woes to his face, so you turned to your left to admire the garden from the window view. Earlier, he had happily told you the names of some of them and their meanings. Buttercups signifying innocence, Forget-me-nots representing true love, Marigolds standing for bliss. Flowers; dictating so much of your life.

“Yeah, I had surgery.” You cursed the shaky edge in your voice. “I was in love with my best friend from college, we were roommates and he was everything I ever wanted from a boyfriend. And I thought he liked me back so,” you swallowed thickly and finally turned your head to see a confused furrow in Soobin’s brow. You knew why he looked so confused, but he would understand your emotions soon enough. “So I thought I had just caught some kind of bug when I started to grow flowers, and he was taking care of me. One day I went to the bathroom to puke and out came little purple petals. It was so confusing. He thought they were for someone else, so he comforted me and I didn’t understand why that only made me cough up more.” A hot tear escaped down your cheek and you cursed at it. Soobin’s whole body was rigid, as if your story was enough to stop all of his bodily functions in their tracks. You supposed your societally unusual show of emotions for a past love would be more than enough to elicit that response.

“Obviously, I found out that he didn’t love me back so I went for surgery. They deemed it successful and I moved back in with him so we could just live as best friends. No flowers, no icky feelings, right?” The question was obviously rhetorical yet Soobin nodded as if cheering you on. “And everything was great, for close to a year. Until one night I woke up in a coughing fit when he wasn’t home and ended up with another god damn purple petal in my hand.” Your fist clenched at the memory of the disgustingly wet petal that had landed in your palm just to mock you. “So I went back to the hospital and they did all their tests. There’s nothing left for them to remove. No new growths, just. There’s something wrong with me. The doctor said he had read about it before, people who can’t fully move on even after removal. That was just two weeks ago. I couldn’t stay there and pretend the first surgery actually ended my feelings for him. That’s how I ended up here, with you.”

Soobin’s face was unreadable. A horribly timed laugh track blasted from the tv speakers and made you cringe. How awkward could this first day as an employee and roommate be? He had nearly seen you naked and now he knows all about your past heartbreak and medical anomaly. You inhaled a shuddering breath through your nose and busied yourself with watching the sun slowly disappear behind the trees of the property.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. I can’t even relate with,” he gestured awkwardly toward his own chest, “growing flowers. I never have. That’s why I grow so many in the garden. Well, that and the family traditions. But mostly because I have always wondered what I would grow if I were in your position. And I memorize what they mean because one time I read a story that said your flowers can signify the kind of relationship you have with that person; especially since they change with every relationship. But I guess it’s kind of a blessing I’ve never loved anyone yet, huh?” You scoffed at his confession.

“You have no idea, Soobin. I’d give everything to fall in love with someone who loves me back and push those stupid purple petals out of my system. Or to just have normal anatomy. But we live in a cruel world sometimes.” The atmosphere of the living room existed in direct opposition to your statement, as warm hues of sunset casted over every surface in a blissful haze.You could see particles of dust falling through the air as if in slow motion. Soobin hummed thoughtfully and got up to stand in front of a window. The light framed the outline of his body like a halo.

“Lets hope,” his voice sounded just as light and airy as the room looked, “that the only flowers you encounter from now on are just the ones from the garden. No pain included.” You weren’t sure how much stock you should take in his insinuation that being here, with him, wouldn’t end in you growing flowers again. Was that an underhanded confession of attraction? You certainly didn’t have the guts to ask, but the idea made you feel weightless.

“That would be very nice, Soobin. No pain included at all.”

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can you do let's fall in love for the night by FINNEAS with calum? Specifically the lyric "you won't stay with me I know but you can have your way with me until you go" and can the reader be that one saying or feeling that lyric? Thanks and sorry to bother, love your work!

Thanks for your suggestion and much gratitude for you patience.

Please stay safe during these uncertain times. Drop a sweet message to your favorite blogger. Reblog your favorite fic. Recommend a fic to me if you want! We need to spread some joy.

If you feel so inclined, here’s my Ko-fi. But please know that I am making this content because I want to help you all through these times.

Enjoy my masterlist!

Feel free to send me a song + a boy or small blurb request.

_____________________________

Let’s Fall

Everyone told you not to fall for Calum. Everyone told you that he was sweet and he was thoughtful but that was something he extended to everyone. You had witnessed it with your own two eyes, helping someone get a box off the high shelf in the grocery store, stopping for the gaggle of kids crossing a good foot from the crosswalk. He bought lemonade for a kid’s stand at the end of the block once. The man oozed a softness that could melt anyone’s heart.

But he couldn’t melt his own. And not for a lack of trying. Not for a lack of wanting love. But situations just never worked out. It seemed like with touring and his own lack of communicating sometimes, things kind of fell apart.

it’s a dangerous game. To play with your own heart. But you are playing it, at bat with all bases loaded. Whenever Calum calls, even if it’s just to have someone else’s voice and life and even problem fill his own head instead of the bullshit he usually spiraled down, you pour your heart out. If Calum mentions doing even the most mundane things, grocery shopping, taking Duke to the vet, you ask to tag along.

Tonight’s no different of a game. Calum’s sick of the four walls of his house, so he asks if he can crash at yours. “My apartment is tiny and you have a whole ass house.”

“I just wanna hang out for a little while. Maybe take a stroll around your block.”

You want not to flutter and squeeze at the thought of watching the setting sun in front of you guys as you wander down the block, watching birds fly overhead. Praying to the heavens none of them take your hair as a place to shit. But still enjoying the cooling breeze and possibly stopping at the convenient store not too far out of the way to stock up on cheap fruity wine and all the snacks that are no good for either of you.

But you swallow down the dream. “I don’t want you have to jostle around bringing Duke along and everything. I can just come by your place.”

“Nah, it’s not that much of a hassle. Please? I’m so bored,” he whines. And you can almost imagine him reclining into his couch with Duke in his lap. His head resting into the cushions and he’s grinning just a little knowing that soon you are going to crack.

“Really, Calum. I can just come to you.”

“What part of me asking if I can come over to your place do you not understand?”

“Alright, smart ass,” you huff.

“I’ll be there in 25,” he returns.

The call ends and you’re left blinking at your phone, staring at your call list where you’re call with Calum now rests. “That wasn’t a yes,” you sigh but clean off your sofa, vacuum quickly and straighten out the kitchen table.

When Calum turns up at your place, with a backpack, Duke on his leash and a few extra bags hiked up onto his shoulder you know immediately that it’s not just a few hour thing. But you say nothing. You let him inside and turn your attention to Duke. “Your pops is a very stubborn man, you know?”

“Oh but you love me,” he hollers as he treks down the hallway to the bedroom.

You roll your eyes though your throat quivers. You had hoped it wasn’t obvious. You tried to tell yourself you weren’t falling. You were holding onto the edges of hope, hoping it wouldn’t push you over the edge. But it seemed it would. He returns, a baseball cap on his head.

“Let’s go for a walk, yeah?”

“Wine and snacks?”

“Of course.” You take Duke’s leash and your keys. The sun’s hasn’t quite started to set. The hint of spring and summer allowing you more light for longer. A few neighborhood kids are laughing into the skies, a group. And for a moment it reminds you of your younger years. When after school, you hung out in groups and even if you had no money or knew you had to be studying for a test, it was a lot more fun to linger outside and laugh over some video, or story that was being shared.

It reminds of when feelings and crushes were the biggest thing in the world and when Duke pauses to sniff out the base of a bush, you glance up to Calum. The cut of his jaw can’t be hidden by any hat, and you nearly gave. You nearly give in and stroke the scruff that’s not quite a beard.

Now love feels like a gamble. This person could break your heart. This person could crush you. And it won’t ever be permanent. You won’t be permanently hurt. But the time frame for healing doesn’t make anyone want to jump head first into heartache. The other side of that gamble is that they could be the perfect person, they could be the person to restore your heart.

But do you take that gamble with Calum?

And it’s not until after toting Duke around the convenient store and pointing out the bottle of wine you’re going to split and the snacks that will be shared begrudgingly and you’re laying on the floor in your living room with the TV playing whatever programming is set by the station that you’re giggling at the feeling of Duke’s snout sniffing at your face, that you think to yourself this is something you could get used too.

You haven’t had much of the wine and neither has Calum. A less than a third of it still rests inside the glass bottle and your glasses sit empty next to it on the coffee table. Your head is resting right next to Calum’s, but you’re feet point towards the fan and his feet are pointed down almost towards the hallway. You can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks, hearing the exhales.

“I want a garden.” The thought cross his lips so quietly that you don’t think you catch it. “Mum always wanted one and like, I don’t have a green thumb for shit, but I want her to smile when I hand her a bouquet of the flowers in my own garden.”

“Forget-me-nots are pretty,” you say, helping Duke up onto your stomach and he settles his head right under your sternum.

“I’ll plant you some. A whole corner.”

“That’s too much for me.”

He scoffs. “No, it’s not. You deserve more than a corner if I’m honest.”

While your fingers stop their work in Duke’s fur, you turn your head to look at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling. “That’s the wine talking,” you laugh. But when he turns to look at you, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours and you see the pulled down brow, you know it might be more serious than you estimated.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” The smell of the strawberry whine fills the space between the two of you.

“Why do you always reject me?”

“I’m not rejecting you, Calum.”

“You didn’t want me to come over.”

“I didn’t want you having to uproot everything especially with Duke. I was offering to come over to you,” you correct.

“You don’t want me to plant you flowers,” he continues on like you haven’t just spoken.

“I only said I didn’t need a whole corner in a garden.”

“I like you but you keep acting like you’re not good enough or something. Like you’re waiting for me to go find someone else.”

Your ears are not hearing this. You’re sure that you’re hallucinating. All you can do is blink, mouth slightly agape. Calum could never like you like that. You weren’t even supposed to be in this game at all. You were supposed to just be friends. “Are you going to like me in the morning? Are you going to like when there’s no wine in your system? Are you going to like me when you wake up to my morning breathe?”

“Yes.”

It’s such a simple answer. Three letters. One syllable. One fucking word but you’re not sure if you can fall. “You’ll leave before morning,” you start, turning and looking back up at your ceiling. And with a thick swallow, your throat starting to close up on you because you want to believe, you want to give into the words but you know it’s Calum. The man who’s sweet to everyone. You’re no one special.

“I won’t.” Calum reaches across, just to trace the side of your face.

You should be cursing yourself for turning into it, rooting into his palm. “Want to know the crazy thing?”

Calum pushes up. It’s with a small grunt and he spins on his bottom to face you, one leg tucked up the other resting extended behind your head. “I’m down for crazy.”

“You could have whatever you wanted. And I know if it were just for a night, that would be fine by me. Like literally whatever you wanted from me, I think I could give it up in a heartbeat. No questions asked. And it just hurts, it could only be for a night.”

Calum’s careful as he collects Duke and settles the old man onto his lap. HIs fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you up. Now you’re sitting cross legged in front of him and he’s staring at you. His big brown eyes look so earnest across your face. “I don’t want just a night with you.”

“Then what? What do you want?”

His smile is soft and his palms are warm against your cheeks. “All of it. All of you. For as long as you’ll have me. I wanna call you mine.”

Hope, you think, wasn’t pushing you to your demise. The first tear stings and then slips down your cheek. “Okay, like I know wine makes me emotional but I swear not this bad.”

He laughs, a soft exhalation. His palms press down a little and you know your cheeks give to the pressure. “Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm-mhm,” you hum unable to nod in his grasps. The first one is soft, barely a kiss and you’re still registering the way his lips fit against yours before he’s kissing you again. And then a third time.

-H

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peterthepark · 5 years

Text

Forget Me Nots

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You’ve loved him for so long, enduring endless days of pining and whirlwinds of pain in your heart. It’s tearing you apart how he doesn’t recognize that you’ve been there for him this whole time. Maybe you should stick to loving from afar.

Warnings: so much angst, fluff, cursing, sadness???

There are an abundance of flowers that symbolize something - red roses often represented romance and passion, while lilies were of devotion and innocence, and sunflowers symbolized adoration and loyalty.

Behind every flower is a story. Forget Me Nots were your favorite.

There’s an abyss that spirals within your heart as you think of him. His smile. His laugh. For years, you used to feel giddy about him, the perfect guy who happened to be your best friend. But now, you simply feel a resigned longing for Steve Harrington. Yet, one thing never changed from all those passing years - loving him from afar.

Without a doubt, your feelings and emotions for Steve have multiplied with time. They’d come to halt dangerously whenever he had a new girlfriend or a crush. At some point, you convinced yourself that you were going to tell him about how you felt. And as expected, it never occurred. Unfortunately.

You’re watering the plants at the florist shop owned by your parents. It’s a small, quaint corner store with a constant flow of customers and passerby’s. There’s been days where you hated working there - for example, Valentine’s Day was approaching. There would be copious amounts of people, flocking to you for help as they would try to find flowers and bouquets for their significant other. Only for them to break up a month later.

The miniature bell by the door rings as someone steps inside. You hands work hastily as you trim the leaves of a few house plants, your mind occupied on other things. But when you feel familiar arms squeeze around your waist, you jump, causing you to nick your finger with the gardening shears.

“Steve!” You yelp, cursing as you hold onto your wound.

“Woah! Woah! Dude, you’re bleeding. Did I do that?” Steve scrambles to your side, inspecting the cut with instant worry. You sigh at him, heading to the backroom to take care of the injury. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Steve lingers by the doorframe, hands delved deep in his front pockets as he watches you run your finger underneath the tap. His head hangs low with guilt.

“It’s fine, you dork.” You meet his eyes, smile faltering for a second. He searches around for the first aid kit, shushing your protests before you groan at him.

The way your finger bled could not compare to the pain of how Steve made your heart bleed everyday. Nothing was new for you, except that he was taking responsibility for this one.

“Let me do it. Band-aids are hard.” He remarks, holding your hand tenderly in his. You screw your eyes shut as you feel that familiar pulse in your body as his skin touches yours. He’s warm and soft. Your hands are cold.

“Thanks.” You chuckle forcibly, looking over the crooked placing of the band-aid and finally noticing Steve’s dorky sailor uniform. “Anyways, what are you doing all the way out here?” You question, resting your hands on your hips. “Uh, I thought your shift at StarCourt doesn’t end till later?”

“No, yeah. I’m actually on break. I wanted to stop by and see if you were interested in grabbing some lunch with me?” He bounces on the heels of his shoes before running his hand through his messy hair. His eyes hold a glint of concern, his lip pulled between his teeth as he raises a brow at you.

“Of course, Steve. I’ll join in a few, just - just gotta wrap up shop.” You take off your apron, hanging the cheap material on the doorknob as you and Steve make your way towards the main room of the shop.

Part of you had wanted to deny his offer. But you could never find it in yourself to say no to him, especially if there was food involved. You flip over the sign on the shop’s front door, clocking out as you head outside.

You hiss as coffee burns at your tongue, prickling your tastebuds with an awful burning sensation. Steve starts to laugh at you, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as he tries to keep all his food in. The quiet and cozy ambience of the café is interrupted when you and Steve are sent into a humorous coughing fit, doubling over onto the sticky table as you animatedly laugh at each other.

The interaction sends a floodgate of memories through your mind, hitting you with unwanted nostalgia. The emptiness in your heart returns instantaneously, and the grin on your face dwindles to a stoical line.

“So, what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?” He breathes out, letting a soft chuckle escape from his lips as he pushes his empty plate aside. He drums his fingers against his forearms.

“Hm... nothing. No plans,” You shrug, swirling the spoon that sits in your coffee. You found yourself feeling sad that Steve would even think of asking that question. He knew your love life wasn’t exactly active as his, so what was the point? You clear your throat, glancing up at him with hope. “You?”

“Uh, I may have - I may have scored a date with Jennifer Jones.” He smirks, gesturing happily with his hands.

And your heart drops. Suddenly, the room is cold and you can no longer feel the warmth radiating from your coffee. Jennifer Jones? Who was that? You had no idea who she was. Steve usually - and to your dismay - shared the details about his romantic experiences. How did you not know who Jennifer was?

“Y/N?” Steve studies your reaction, but all he sees is a face void of emotion.

Wake up. He doesn’t feel the same. Not in that way.

“Oh! That’s - that’s good.” You let the spoon clink against the mug before running your bandaged finger against the outline of your lips. You exhale, “Jennifer... I’ve never heard of her.”

“Yeah, I, uh, wanted to be sure that I actually liked her before telling you about it. I hear your advice in the back of my head every time I find someone remotely interesting.” He gazes out the window of the emptying café. His foot accidentally brushes against yours under the table, and you mirror Steve to gaze outside. “She works at Orange Julius. Really nice girl.”

“I’m sure of it. She must be pretty.” Steve agrees with a nod, taking a sip from his milkshake. Strawberry. His favorite. “And the date...” You turn back to him, trying not to alarm him with your sudden silence. “What are you planning on doing with her?”

Steve rambles about taking her to a drive-in by the city. But that was your drive-in. Only you and Steve went there. You knew you had no right to be jealous, but you couldn’t help but feel... neglected. It was valid to feel like this, right? But then, Steve mentions something else that tugs and snaps at your heartstrings.

“Do you think you’d be able to save me a bunch of Forget-Me-Nots? I know it’s your favorite flower, but I love the story behind it. I think it’d be perfect. I really wanna make that night special for Jen. Roses just seem outdated.” You can only nod, promising him with your pinky finger that you’d keep some in the back room for him. Steve then takes note of how you play with the hair tie around your wrist, and how you’ve been looking at the table instead of him. He reaches his hand across the table subtly, grazing it against your palm. “Hey, are you okay?”

The phrase is enough to send you falling into your heart’s abyss.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Your head is pounding as you hold everything back, pressing your tongue against the roof of your mouth to stop yourself.

“M’fine. I’m just tired. My parents have been on my ass lately about school and the - the business.” You’re wishing that Steve can’t see the pain and tears in your eyes, but by his expression, you know that he knows something is wrong.

“We can talk, okay? Let me help you.”

Steve takes you back to his house, ushering you into his bedroom. Your chest feels tight and your airway is constricted. He hasn’t seen you like this much, but it sends him into a immediate effort to help you. As he locks the bedroom door, you bury yourself under his covers.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Steve asks. The other half of bed dips as he sits beside you. You’re still hidden in the covers, finding comfort in the darkness and the rustling of the cotton sheets that smelled too much like him.

“Can I ask you a question instead?” You murmur, voice muffled from being underneath layers of blankets. Steve hums, crossing his ankles over each other as he waits for you. “Have you ever felt like - like nothing is right? Like everything that could go wrong for you has gone absolutely wrong in your life?” You poke your head out, furrowing your brows.

He nods slowly, processing your question, “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Okay, well. I feel like that a lot.”

Steve is quiet. And you would have thought that he left the room if your head wasn’t beneath the covers anymore. But he’s silent - it scares you a little.

“Actually, yeah...” He starts, catching sight of the band-aid on your finger. “I’ve experienced that. Sucks real ass. Is there anything else?” Steve grunts as he lays down, parallel to your body as his head rests by the foot of the bed.

Yeah, I’m fucking in love with you.

“Not really, it’s all family and business shit and well, you already know everything about that.” You chuckle sadly, glancing back at him with an unsure expression.

“Well, see, I can tell you one thing. One right thing in your life that I know of. Actually two things. You’re very lucky, Y/N.” Steve admires the picture of you and him across the room, a framed film photo that was taken on a road trip. He lifts his head from the bed, locking eyes with you. “Okay, so. One, you have me as a friend. That’s some good fucking luck right there. I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No,” You shake your head with a delighted smile. “I am so lucky for you, Steve Harrington.”

“Right? I agree. And two, you don’t need to wear a stupid sailor uniform for work. I mean, c’mon. This shit is inhumane.” He makes a face of disgust as he pulls at the collar of his shirt. “You shouldn’t have to feel that way, yeah? And if you do feel like that ever again, call me. I’ll remind you of all the right things, not the wrong.” His tone is calm with a hint of sharpness.

Steve does care about you - a lot.

But not in the way you wished he would.

He extends his arms out, grinning as you crawled into his grasp.

It feels safe. It feels familiar.

You rest your cheek against his chest as he puts his chin on top of your head, his big hands splayed out over your back. Your hair falls like a veil against his neck, tickling him so he has to brush it away.

If only you could stay like this forever.

It’s the dreaded day. The day with never-ending color palettes of red, pink, and white. The day with too many hearts and too many teddy bears and too many damn customers buying flowers.

Valentine’s Day.

Fuck you.

You survey the shop, making note of how many flowers have been sold in the first couple hours from opening.

You look up as the door opens, smiling as Robin slips into the shop.

“Hey, dude.” She says raspily, hands in the pockets of her jeans as she makes her way to the counter. You recognize the pitiful smile in her features: the way her eyes are downturned, crows feet peeking from the corners.

“Hey, you.” You reply with a nod, fixing things by the register.

“Did Steve tell you?” Robin questions, head slightly tilting as she steps behind the counter to stand with you.

“Who the hell is Jennifer Jones?”

And so you and Robin sit down in the armchairs by the corner of the shop - you, occasionally getting up to help out a customer. She tells you all about this Jennifer Jones girl with narrowed eyes and wide hand gestures. You can only reply in short phrases as Robin goes onto rambling.

“She’s definitely not as pretty as you, Y/N. Like not even close. I don’t even know where Steve met her.”

“Yeah, me either. Barely tells me anything anymore.” You scoff, eyes blinking at the ceiling as you slide down into the chair. “He drives me crazy, Robin. I don’t know if it’s healthy.”

“As long as you don’t lose yourself along the way.”

Maybe you have. You’re unsure. But you don’t tell Robin that, because you feel some semblance of yourself in your body. Despite the numbness in your brain, and the potholes in your heart, you’re somewhere in there.

Just lost. Not yet found. Not gone. But lost.

“I guess maybe - maybe I should move on. You know? I’m tired of - of waiting for something to happen.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, leaning forward in your chair. “I can’t even tell him how I feel. What’s the point? And he’s my best friend, so like - how can I live with him rejecting me?”

“But how will you ever know if he does feel the same way? Y/N...” She pauses. You wait as she fishes something from the back pocket of her jeans. And your heart swells as she places it on the coffee table in front of you. It’s the bracelet that Steve had gifted you on your seventeenth birthday: a thin, silver chain, with your initials engraved into a small charm. You had been looking for it for weeks, afraid that it would be forever missing. You take it into your palms with a featherweight touch, fearful that it would break despite how strong the material was. “You left it at my house.”

Robin studies the smile on your face. She notices the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, the child-like and innocent glistening in your eyes as you lock the bracelet into place. “I think you should tell him, Y/N.” You open your mouth, interrupted as Robin continues quickly. “If he does reject you, so what? At least you tried! He’s an absolute dingus if he does, by the way. But I have this - this thought that he feels the same. It’s like he hasn’t realized it yet, but it’s there.” She places her hand over her heart, words sincere and sweet.

Maybe Steve was lost, too. Not yet found. Not gone. Just lost.

The abyss in your heart doesn’t feel as deep and dark anymore. So, you look up at Robin, eyes brimming with fulfilled tears.

“Thank you.” You stand up to wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. She pats your wrist, eyelashes fluttering against her freckled cheeks.

“And if anything, you could always date me.” She jokes, playfully pushing your hand away as you go to help another customer.

Her advice did give you some peace of mind.

But honestly? The fear and the doubts, and the overwhelming emotions hadn’t really downsized at all.

Your heart still aches for Steve Harrington.

You feel it most at night, laying in your bed. When you’re wide awake, mind buzzing with thoughts: thinking of him.

You feel it more when you wake up from a dream. But the dream is one of those kinds, where everything feels realistic and authentic. Nothing could feel better than that.

Yet you feel it even more when you realize that dream, was simply just a dream - nothing more - and Steve never loved you like that in reality.

Nothing felt lonelier than the profound hole that dwelled in your chest.

Your own imagination can kill you, sometimes.

“Harrington!” Robin hoots as your charming friend walks into the shop. You blush when you recognize that he’s wearing the windbreaker you had given him for Christmas - red and white and all ‘Valentinesy.’

“Buckley! Y/L/N!” He grins, fist-bumping Robin before he makes his way over to you. You rest your forearms on the counter, leaning over the register to meet his gaze. That’s when you notice he has something behind his back, and he whips it out quickly when he realizes you’ve seen it. “For you, pretty girl.”

Roses.

But weren’t roses outdated?

Despite the lingering memory of Steve mentioning something about no longer liking roses, you take the small bouquet with a cheerful smile, thanking Steve as you place them in the empty vase behind you. “They’re gorgeous. So sweet, Steve Harrington.”

Maybe he wasn’t going on that date tonight.

“Yeah, I wanted to get you a little something before I stopped by.” He glances around, over your shoulder and into the back room. He lowers his voice, brows raised. “Did you save me the flowers?”

Oh. That’s what he wanted.

That’s why he came.

Not for you.

But for Jennifer.

“Uh, yeah.” You lock eyes with Robin, who waves goodbye to you supportively. “They’re in the back. C’mon, lemme show you.” Steve follows you, grinning widely like a child on Christmas. He’s humming a song under his breath, and you’re glad that he’s happy. But at your expense. “You better be glad that I was able to save these for you.” You pass him the handmade bouquet, filled with the vibrant, gorgeous blue of Forget-Me-Nots. “They’re not in season anymore.”

He pulls you into a side-hug, one hand clutching the root of the bouquet while the other touched your back. “Thank you. Thank you.” You step away, crossing your arms against your chest as you shush him. “I’m serious. I’m happy you did this for me. And I know that it must’ve been a hassle for you, so let me make it up to you. Tomorrow? I’ll take you to that cool garden tourist place thingy that just opened up.”

“For sure. I can’t wait.”

Is that all your friendship was anymore?

A returning of favors? Oweing one another? Paying what was due? Bullshit.

“Anyways,” You start, rubbing your palms together. “Are you excited?”

“For the date? Hell, yeah.” He bobs his head, leaning against one of the metal racks with shoes crossed. “Like c’mon, how long has it been since I’ve been on one of those? Hope I can keep her interested long enough.”

You wouldn’t need to talk and I’d still be interested in you.

“You’ll be fine, Steve.” You reach over his shoulder, fixing one of the potted plants. “You’re a charmer. I’m sure you’ve already got her wrapped around your finger.” You wink teasingly, placing your hands lightly on the sides of his neck.

You’ve got me wrapped around your finger.

Steve kisses the side of your head, a gesture that you had always been accustomed to throughout your friendship. “Thanks for being there. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I’ll always be there for you, Harrington.

“Yeah! Call me! I wanna know how the date goes,” You chuckle, a hint of sadness lingers in your eyes, but Steve doesn’t notice. He bids you farewell with another embrace, squeezing you tightly.

Maybe he could hear finally your heart crying out to him.

Briefly, you shift forward to go after Steve, hand barely raising from resting on your thigh. But you don’t go after him. It wouldn’t be right.

How do you kill a feeling?

Steve was just your best friend. That’s all that it was. It must be better this way.

Once the day ends, you drive home.

The gloom loitering around the sky and greying clouds adds onto your sadness. You feel lonely. You are lonely. What do you call that numbing pain in your chest when you’re in too deep for someone? Was there even a word to describe that?

Your parents’ house is quiet - left home alone from being on a business trip.

Hell, maybe even your own parents were forgetting about you.

You’re sitting in the living room, surfing through channels aimlessly on the television. Valentine’s Day has never felt any worse. You’re cozied up on your couch, blankets wrapped around your body as the fireplace crackles softly in the background. You snack on a tub of ice cream, smacking your lips at the taste of chocolate.

It still tasted bitter.

You’re watching one of those old romance movies from the 60s, eyes blinking widely as you bite onto your spoon.

You feel tears well up in your vision as the two actors on screen kiss, lips pushing together passionately as their hands roam each other’s bodies. You sniffle, pulling the spoon out of your mouth, dumping it into the empty container in your lap.

You’re a sobbing mess by the time the movie ends; your head hurts and your body feels overwhelmed with unforeseen exhaustion.

You close your eyes.

Darkness.

You jump from the couch when you hear a loud, persistent knock at the front door. Rain pours heavily outside as it nears midnight. You groan, shutting off all the lights to go sleep upstairs.

But the knocking at the door doesn’t stop. The windows shake with fear as wind begins to pick up strength. You carefully step down the staircase, cautious as you unlock the front door.

“Steve?” You breathe out.

It’s like the oxygen has left your lungs as soon as you look over the state of your best friend.

His jacket is drenched, thick hair sticking to his face as he squints through the night. Shivering from the frigid weather, his lips turn to a disconcerting shade of blue.

He’s crying.

You can clearly see shades of red blooming around his eyes through the pouring rain. He struggles to stay upright, and you usher him inside immediately. He can barely get any words out, breathing heavily.

“Steve, what... oh, my gosh.” You wrap yourself around him, pulling him under your arm as you take him to sit by the fireplace. You’re peeling his jacket off of his arms, flinging the wet material aside before you re-light the fire. No words are exchanged between the two of you, mostly a few gasps and concerned gazes from your end. You’re tugging Steve’s shirt off of his body, throwing it into the pile of his other ruined clothes. You take the blanket from the couch, dabbing at his cold skin and wrapping it around him. You pull him into your lap when you sit down, unsure of where to start. “What happened?” You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp as you let your other hand rub at his forearm. “Steve? Are you okay?”

He lets out a strangled sob, bringing a hand up to hide his face. Steve trembles against your body, burying his nose onto your warm thigh.

The rain patters harshly against the house - and now you know why.

The angels were crying with him.

“Shh... it’s okay. I’m here.” You soothe him, fingers dancing across his spine. You lean down to plant a kiss onto the freckle on his bare shoulder, closing your eyes. “Let it out, Steve. Let it all go.”

You feel for him.

A teardrop rolls down your cheek, melting into Steve’s skin. He’s clawing at your shirt as he moves to sit up higher, trying to bring himself as close to you as possible. You don’t say anything as he embraces you with a bone-crushing touch, tightening around your ribs.

“She didn’t like me.” He cries through a small, hoarse voice.

“Oh, Steve.”

His hair is dripping wet, drops dampening your shirt. It’s messy. You’ve never seen anything like this - not from Steve, anyways.

Snot pools around his nose, sticking to the ends of your hair along with his saliva. His nails dig deeply into your sides, holding onto you for dear life. Your lips lightly press against his forehead, lingering there as you wait patiently for him to continue.

You start to feel his body warm up from the heat of the fireplace. He no longer trembles as much, but his hands still remain clenched tightly around the fabric of your shirt. You can feel the soreness in your legs from how heavy he is, but you push through - enduring it for Steve.

“She, uh,” Steve looks at you. His cheeks are stained with tears. A sight that breaks your heart. “She called me stupid. And - and she said I wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t even that cute to begin with.” You push the hair away from his eyes. “She said that she went to high school with us... and that this - that whole date was just a way for her to get back at me. I don’t remember what I did, Y/N. How can I not remember what I did?”

Steve sobs again, hyperventilating into your chest. “Breathe. It’s alright.” You coo, resting your forehead against his. “Steve, that was high school. We all were - were different people back then. Whatever happened with Jennifer during that time should’ve been forgiven.”

“I was an asshole, Y/N.”

“Yeah, then.” You huff, still embracing him. You raise your brows, the fire illuminates your face as you continue to speak. “At some point, we have to let go of the past, I guess. People can be unforgiving, Steve. And if Jennifer is one of those people, then forget about her, you know? There’s always room to change or make mistakes.” You try your best to console him. “You’re different now, Steve. She shouldn’t be messing with you like that. No one should.”

He stares blankly at your lips, before his brown eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“What if nobody really likes me?”

The question strikes a dark place in your heart. And you have to glance away to keep tears in.

“Y/N, what if - what if I’m destined to be alone and nobody will ever love me as much as I love them?” Silent tears roll down his face as he loosens his grip on you. “What if you don’t even like me?”

“Don’t you dare say that.”

“Y/N, why the fuck do you still like me? I’m - I’m horrible.”

If only he knew.

“Steve, you’re my favorite, favorite thing.” You shake your head at him, bewildered that he would think like that. “You make me feel so safe. And complete. You’re my best friend. I couldn’t live in a universe without you.”

He starts with a scoff, and you’re terrified of what he says next. “But I want - I need someone who will love me, eventually. Someone who can give as much as I do.”

Ouch.

You remain quiet. How can you help Steve when you feel the same? Only, the feelings were directed towards him?

Steve wipes his nose, pulling away from you. He chuckles. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

You chuckle too, but sadly. “I like the idea. I believe there’s someone for everyone. Someone who’ll love you despite anything.”

It’s me. I’m that someone.

“Do you think we all have soulmates? A person for each of us?”

“I do. I really do.” You turn your head away from him, staring into the crackling fire.

“Maybe some of us don’t get a soulmate. Kinda like - like natural selection.” He shrugs, fingers picking at the thread of your carpet. “Maybe some of us don’t get to - to, I don’t know, experience being loved.”

“But sometimes it’s not about being loved by someone else.”

A soft, barely visible smile lingers on Steve’s face.

“Hey, I’ve never asked you this. Not in a while, at least.” You hum in reply. “Do you like anyone?”

“Right now?” He nods. You let out a small exhale through your nostrils, scoffing. “Yeah. I like this - this guy a lot.”

“Does he like you back?”

Steve doesn’t ask who it is.

Maybe he knew.

“I don’t think he does, Steve.” You caress your own jaw, finding comfort within yourself. You feel Steve’s eyes on you, and you suddenly feel extremely vulnerable as you decide to look back at him. “I’ve never asked him if he does. I don’t - I don’t wanna ruin what I have with him. I think that... I’d rather suffer myself than... than lose him, you know?”

“You should tell him.” You close your eyes, turning away from him with a sad frown. “Listen. Anyone would be lucky to have you, Y/N.”

“Steve...” Your eyes are pleading, scouring his face in hopes that he’d realize. “Steve.” His eyes begin to widen when he hears the shattering crack in your voice. You don’t fail to notice how he moves his hand slightly away from you.

He knows that look anywhere. It’s the look that Robin gave him when she admitted her feelings for Tammy Thompson. It’s the look you give someone when you say something a little too scary and painful.

“No...” He laughs. You start to cry, clutching your hands to your chest as you scoot further away from him. His face falls when he watches your drops of tears plummet to the ground. “Me?”

His voice is almost condescending.

“I-I... Steve, I-“

“Y/N. We’re - I can’t do this.” He stands, nearly losing his balance. You don’t follow him, leaning against the couch as you bring your knees to your chest.

“This is what I was afraid of. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You ram your fists to the sides of your head. Your cries are distressed, echoing throughout the house.

The abyss in your heart has enveloped you. You feel sucked in, screaming for help as you’re dragged into the darkness.

Heartbreak.

Was it too late to un-love someone?

Steve paces around the living room, hands on his hips as his red eyes dart around the room.

“I get it, if you don’t feel the same way. We’re supposed to be best friends.”

“Y/N, I don’t - I don’t-“

“I know.” You whisper huskily, leaning into the couch. You don’t look at him.

“I think I should go.” He says shakily. He pinches at the skin in between his eyebrows, stuttering over his words as he puts on his shirt and jacket, still soaked from the rain. “Thank you. For the, uh... for the help.” You don’t reply. Steve sees the broken shell of his best friend. And yet, he’s too shocked and selfish to fix her. “I’m... I’ll see you around, Y/L/N.”

“Okay.”

And he leaves. Not once looking back at you or to ask if you would be alright. You lay there, head resting on the couch cushions as the fire hums a heart-wrenching ballad. You can’t breathe.

You walk with wobbly legs up the stairs, taking deep, uneven breaths as you open your bedroom door.

Your room feels wrong. And your bones shift in your skin as you throw the covers off of your bed, angrily stripping them away from your mattress and letting them parachute onto the floor.

You are the abyss.

It no longer resides in your heart.

But inside and around you, floating through your veins.

Your eyes are grey with color as the answering machine beeps with another useless message.

‘Hey, Y/N. It’s Robin. I haven’t seen you in like a month, how are you? Uhm, I wanted to call and see if you were doing okay. Yeah. So, if - when you aren’t busy, call me back. Please? Thanks. Love you.’

Beep.

‘Y/N! This is Dustin. Dustin Henderson. Steve’s friend. Yeah, okay, hi. Ow!’ You hear a rustle on the other end of the line. ‘Anyways, we - I was wondering if you wanted to come to the movies sometime with me and Robin... and uh, Steve. Hope to hear from you. Kay. Bye. Dude, you need-‘

Beep.

‘Y/N. Hey, it’s Steve Harrington. It’s Steve. Yeah, uh... call me? I-I... just call me back when you’re free. Right. Take care. Miss you.’

The answering machine no longer blinks red.

You feel exhausted. Moreover, you look exhausted. Your face is pale, aching to see sunlight. Your nose is runny from a cold, throat starched for water. You haven’t been to your job in weeks, halting the business temporarily until your parents were to come home.

It worries Steve when he tries to drop by the florist shop, finding it empty and pitch black inside. He can see the roses that he gave you on Valentine’s Day, wilting in its porcelain vase. He tugs against the glass door, sighing when he finds it locked. Obviously, he could hear you say. He reads the handwritten note on the window:

‘Closed. Flowers are not available for sale. Come back another time.’

Steve knew you had to be at home - hurt and healing

He runs into Robin as he walks hastily to your house, and he sees the angry stare that his friend sends him from the end of the sidewalk.

“What the hell are you doing here, dingus?” She snaps, pressing her finger into his sternum.

“I fucked up, Robin. Big time.” He glances at your bedroom window, hoping that you were in there somewhere. “I wanted to apologize to her.”

“Not right now. Go away.” She brushes past him, hitting his shoulder with her own.

He really has fucked up.

Robin sighs in pity when she glances back at her friend, relaxing when she sees the genuine defeat on Steve’s face. “You can’t just waltz in there and apologize. She’s hurting, Steve.”

“I know. I feel horrible.”

“She’s in love with you.” Robin admits. She feels a bit bad for saying it to him, when you should really be saying it - but she’d do anything to save you from feeling any more pain. “I’ve seen her through her best... her worst days - and yet it all comes down to you. Oh, Steve did this for me. Steve did that.” She mocks, tilting her head from side to side as her lips twitch upwards. “She’s your best friend. And she loves you more than anything. What more could you possibly want than that?”

Steve chews on his bottom lip anxiously, hands feeling around in the pockets of his jacket.

“She isn’t expecting you to love her back, Harrington. If that’s what scares you.” Robin places a friendly hand on his shoulder. “She just needs to know that you’ll stay. No matter what. And if you do have feelings for her...” She dips her head down, meeting eyes with him. “Then don’t be afraid to tell her. It’s only Y/N.” She turns on her heels, stepping up onto the porch to ring the doorbell. “You should probably go. Figure yourself out first before trying to help her right now.”

He knows she’s right. With slumped shoulders, he drags his feet off of your lawn. He glances back instantly when he hears the quiet hymn of your voice, and sees your face before you shut the door behind Robin. He tries to wave weakly.

But you don’t look at him.

Not this time.

Another two weeks pass by before Steve catches sight of the fluorescent lights in your shop. And he sees a familiar figure working the register.

Without hesitation, Steve swerves onto the emergency lane, tires screeching as he pulls to an illegal stop. He nearly gets run over by a speeding car, but the adrenaline is too much for him to care about anything else right now. He sprints past the road, bumping into a few strangers as he swings open the shop’s door.

“Y/N.” He pants out. His hair is wind-swept, brown curls falling against his face. “Hi.”

You look up from the register, knocking over a cup of pens when you recognize the handsome face. “Steve.”

He rushes over to help you, attempting to pick up the fallen supplies. But you’re quick with your movements, scooping all the pens back into their designated cup by the counter before Steve can help you. He then sees the dirty handprints on your unwashed green apron, realizing that you had only just gotten back from your break.

“Hi, again. It’s, uh, it’s me.” He scratches the back of his neck nervously, adjusting the collar of his shirt when he feels it fit too tightly around his neck. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he crosses his arms against his chest, trying to seem as casual as possible. You’re giving him a weird look, but he can just make out the anxiousness in your pupils. “I wanted to... say sorry. I panicked that night. When-when...”

“When I told you how I felt.” You finish, running your hands up and down your jeans.

You both are lumps of awkwardness, unsure of where to look and what to do with your bodies. You mimic Steve, holding your arms against your ribs as you lean onto a table.

Steve’s just glad you’re actually talking to him after all those weeks. It seems like he’s just met you again: the awkward fidgeting, the ramblings, the way his hands shook after speaking to you - it felt exactly like the day you met.

He remembers it all too vividly.

“Is that all?” You ask, putting your hair up and away from your view. Steve doesn’t hear forgiveness in your tone. He should’ve known it wouldn’t have been that easy, that fast.

“No,” He says. He taps at his bottom lip, before wagging a finger at you. “You don’t happen to have more Forget-Me-Nots, do you?”

Steve visibly cringes when he hears the dramatic scoff you give him. “Yeah. I do. They’re in the back. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Did Jennifer make amends with you?” You question uneasily, stepping into the other room to grab the flowers for him.

“No, not her. They’re for something else.” He shrugs as a matter-of-factly. “Here. I’ll pay for them?”

“Take them. It’s fine. I don’t have a use for them anymore, anyways.”

But they‘re your favorites.

Unless they aren’t anymore?

“Of course. Uh, I’ll - I’ll catch up with you soon.” He looks down at the precious potted flowers, holding them delicately with his two hands.

He makes a beeline for the exit, before he hears you call out to him reluctantly.

“And Steve?” He turns, eyes blinking with interest in what you have to say. “Take care.” He grins. “Of the flowers.”

Okay, damn. So much for forgiveness.

“I always do.” He shrugs with one shoulder, flashing a lopsided smile. He hesitates to open the door for a second, but he does, running across the busy road with the pot of Forget-Me-Nots.

He’s going to make it up to you.

March.

It’s a cold morning in March when Steve finally gets himself together. He sits on the ledge of his bedroom window, eyes trained on the well-cared for pot of Forget-Me-Nots placed in front of him. They bloom gorgeously; seemingly, they are the only pop of color that remains in Steve’s messy room. He smiles, eyes crinkling with peaceful nostalgia when he glances down at the wrinkled piece of paper in his hands. He reads over the words, whispering them to himself as he tries to get them right.

It’s the longest he’s ever gone without seeing you. His feelings, as usual, are a jumbled mess of emotions. But he knows, that with due time, if he were to love you - more than a best friend - then it surely would be destined to happen.

He looks back into his room and away from the window. The wall across his bed is plastered with pictures, the majority of them are of you and him together. From the beginning of middle school, to freshman year in high school, to junior prom, to graduation - you’ve been there for him through everything. Every milestone, every heartbreak, every achievement and every breaking point.

Steve can’t help but ask himself if he’s been there for you through thick and thin as well. He wonders: has he been looking down all the wrong roads this entire time? Was he not giving as much as he took from you?

Holding onto the worn piece of paper, he folds and stuffs it in the back pocket of his jeans before he takes the pot of flowers carefully into his grasp.

Steve drives in his car, beating every stoplight and doing almost every illegal thing a driver could do. He sighs in relief when he sees that your curtains are drawn, along with your open bedroom window.

Classic move.

He parks his car recklessly on your lawn, definitely ruining the freshly watered grass with his muddy tires. Memorized like the palm of his hand, he climbs up your roof, being cautious not to step on the loose tiles that led to your window whilst balancing the Forget-Me-Nots under his arm. He’s out of breath when he finally gets up. He sees you through your window, nose buried in a book - unaware of his abrupt arrival. Steve crouches, tapping on the glass with his fist.

Your head snaps up. Glancing around your room, you sigh as you stand up. Steve helps you raise the window lift, grinning boyishly when it stays upright. There’s a glow in his eyes that you can’t place. Steve knows that you won’t let him in, so he takes a seat on the flat surface of your roof, placing the pot of Forget-Me-Nots on the window stool that separates the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. Steve recognizes the bump in your voice - the genuine curiosity, free of malicious intent. “You can’t be here, Steve. My parents... they-”

“I won’t waste your time. But I do need you to hear me out. You can’t say anything, alright?”

“Steve, what-” You shake your head in confusion, but Steve shushes you, motioning you to sit down as well. And you do. The flowers block part of Steve’s face, but you don’t care to move it - wanting to hear what he has to say.

“I’m gonna read you something that I found in my room.” You lean forward, placing your chin in the palm of your hand with sincere regard. “It’s a note. From you to me. In eight grade.”

A year after we first met.

Your face softens. Because you know exactly what this note contains. Steve clears his throat as he takes out the note from his pocket, smoothing down the rips and the wrinkles. The ink is smudged, messy and hurried but there is something genuine laced within those words.

‘Dear Steve,

You are truly one of the dumbest people I’ve met. So dumb, that you can’t realize that I literally have the biggest crush on you in the world. I like you. More than I like chocolate ice cream and more than I like move night. I could spend forever with you - that is until you make me just as insane as you. I’d donate my own braincells for you. I think I might love you. What even is love? You are too cool to be my friend. Too cool to be my partner in crime. And definitely too cool to be my Anyways, I’m writing this because I have too many feelings right now. Maybe it’s just hormones. Maybe it’s one of those things. But just know, that I’ll be here for you - no matter what - despite the teasing, or the dorky jokes, or the number of bad movies you always make me watch. I’m here. And I love you.

(Like a friend, of course)

Your best friend, Y/N.

By the time Steve has finished reading, his eyes are watery. He chuckles at himself, glancing at the paper one last time before he folds it neatly back into place. “I found it in my backpack.” He briefly waves it in the air. “I... you must’ve mixed my backpack up with yours because-”

“Because we had matching backpacks.” You smile sentimentally. “And everyone thought we were - were complete nerds for matching.”

“Yeah, they did.” He passes the letter to you, but his hands envelop yours when you attempt to take it. His fingers draw shapes on your skin, and he pulls your hands closer to him. “Letters are meant to be read, Y/N. And not only that, letters are meant to be answered.” He pauses, “And years later, I finally have an answer to that letter.”

“If this is you feeling - feeling pitiful towards me, for what I said...”

“It’s not. This is how I really feel. I’m doing this because... because I’m not lost. Not anymore.” He tightens his hold. “Y/N. You are truly one of the most unique, smartest and loving people I’ve met.” He chuckles, feeling his throat tighten at his words. “I never - I was selfish for never realizing how much you care for me. Not just as a best friend, but more. And yeah, it took me forever to - to realize that, but I was scared. Part of me has always had a crush on you. And what you told me on Valentine’s just - it shocked me. Because I was never looking for love in the right places. Love was in front of me, all along. She was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, watching terrible movies at the drive-ins, and wearing matching backpacks with me. I didn’t see it because I was too busy trying to see you as my best friend, rather than - rather than a soulmate. I’ve always loved you, Y/N. We grew up together. And you helped make me who I am.”

You can only look at Steve with doting yet astonished eyes.

The abyss in your heart...

It was finally releasing you.

“Steve, you-”

He holds a hand up, clicking his tongue. “I’m not done.” You nod for him to continue you, placing your other hand over his. “I remember the story behind Forget-Me-Nots. How it’s always had a special place in your heart.” He lets go of your hands, reaching for the flowers instead. He examines it, before he looks up to you with a grin. “A man saw beautiful blue flowers growing on this - this weird plant. And so, he jumped into water to get the blue flowers for his love. Although the current was strong, the man crossed the river safely and got the flowers. But on his way back, he was taken away in the water. Yet before he disappeared, he threw the bouquet of forget-me-nots to his love. She wore these flowers on her hair until the day she died and never forgot about him.” He takes a deep breath, before handing the flowers to you. “Every time I looked at these flowers, I-I thought of you. And I kept them alive. Isn’t that crazy? They’re still alive.”

Your lips pull into a shy smile as you duck your head to smell the flowers. “You’re unforgettable, Y/N.” He reaches over, caressing your cheek. You sigh into his touch, letting your eyes flutter shut against your skin. “I want you to remember that I’ve always loved you. It just took me a little while because well... I’m an idiot.”

“You are!” You laugh, giggling into his hand. He leans into your room, pressing an innocent kiss to the top of your head. His lips stay there, and he smiles into your hair. “Steve?”

“Y/N?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Let’s stay like this forever. I wanna remember this. I want you to remember this.”

“I would never forget it, Steve.”

Unforgettable.

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laerrynseelie · 4 years

Text

TAD death/chronic illness theory

buckle up motherfuckers and blame the discord for this because this is about to get into some real fucking sad shit and it’s gonna be a very long post my apologies in advance (tw death! chronic illness! mentioning respiratory issues + tumour + hospital! please take care of yourselves)

for me, this all begins in Not Yet/Love Run, just from the words “not yet”. it’s all about someone (Mads) who is dying of a chronic illness, and the phrase “not yet” of don’t go yet, keep going, just a little longer. “it’s time to fight”, “keep running it’s up to you now”. and so through the song, they go on adventures in their head using their imagination and songs because that can’t do that irl, with

sing me awake with a song about pirates

I’ll point you steer and we’ll rip up the map by the seams

or since you’re stuck inside, perhaps on bed rest or in a hospital “sip the sunlight from your eyes”, experience what I can’t, I’ll live vicariously through you, “sing me awake with all the things we’ll do today but instead we’ll build a den out of pillows and get drunk again” because we can’t do anything else. “run until your lungs are numb” is it a respiratory illness? “run from all you know that’s coming” is the end, connecting to this “run from all you know that’s coming”, “oh let the world come at you love”, “it’s not from what we run that drums / but what’s to come, what’s to come”. and “it’s nought that rum won’t solve / though some would harm you, none - not one - no none / will raise to you a hand nor thumb” nothing else can hurt you, or when you’re gone all this pain and suffering and hurt will end.

some more straightforward NY/LR things connecting to this is “but I held your hand as you shook in the middle of the night” “seems to me that you can’t sleep” “where is god ma” “I cannot find the words to keep you” “for all the things we wished we’d done”

let’s connect this to Pruning Shears! because why not destroy myself with my fav songs from this album first. “my entire life it’s running away too fast” is sung by Joey, and underneath Mads sings “my whole life”. her whole life is going, she’s about to die, but she’s his entire life and she’s about to go. and he’s listening to all these people talk about being rich and all this stuff that doesn’t fucking matter compared to the fact that she’s dying. “the best laid plans had it all planned” “we do each other’s laundry in our hearts sometimes” they were going to have this long, happy, domestic life, and it’s all gone straight out the window. “my fall makes no sound here”. “we don’t have time to fuck around”. “come back”. “doesn’t matter mate”. “forget the girl that she once was” “my whole life it won’t last”

this is gonna be a stretch, also with PS, but clothing from the “lost and found” because you didn’t have time to prepare? or don’t own clothing for a formal event? could it perhaps be... a funeral? and since she’s dead “yes I know you got your shoes from Oxfam” is like kinda omnipotent. “whatever you do don’t turn round” don’t watch me slowly die, or that voice you hear in your head that you think is mine isn’t, I’m gone. move on, “merry make me love forget the past”. “watching everyone I’ve ever loved walk past” she’s watching her own funeral.

“put up one hell of a fight against all my sins and the candlelight”, fighting against the illness, the “light” is death

alright so I really only made this theory for PS and NY/LR, but then I went through the other songs of Love Run and hoo boy buckle up because I am making myself sad with my own bullshit

king is preparing him for her death. she’s trying to make sure he’s okay after she’s gone “when you are gone away” “I’ll keep him safe from the dark things that wait” “rips into the bark of my bones”. is she buried at “the house at the top of the rock”?

I’ll smile as I climb the stairs (to the light) To the light that you keep burning there (all hell) And our muscles that are waltzing and our shadows that are bold sing Come rip up the flesh of my fears

is he dying to be with her? more evidence:

I know your fingernails are the colour of rust (come back) And your veins are empty of dust (but our voices)

and finally

all hell and its fire waits for us

Elsa’s Song? more funeral stuffs.

I can hear the cannons calling As though across a dream And I can smell the smoke of hell In every stitch and seam And like flowers, the bodies tumble Around this muddied lot I cannot hear them scream ‘Forget me not.’

Because love does not exist here In this garden there’s no feeling

And in years to come you’ll wander To the place up on our hill And then you’ll cry to our painted sky ‘I loved him then, I love him still’ And you’ll strew some sage and lilies And roses where I rot Of all the flowers you picked I knew you would forget Forget-me-nots

want me to make Shower Day even sadder? I can do that! “its just a sitting down in the shower day” is already a v sad, energyless idea, could be from exhaustion, illness. but something I thought of is how people hide their tears in the shower. and he’s trying to keep himself strong for her, making sure she doesn’t see him sad. same with the other lines of the chorus

You’re the one who asked me if I’m feeling ok I said I’m fine

as well as “walk around all nonchalant”. along the same lines of her preparing him for her death:

Know you should love him but its such a pain Would have stayed if you’d had asked But instead you just walk away

You’re the one who told me to never look back Well I’m looking back and looking back And looking back and looking back at you

Pray, death, sin, yeah it all fits together real nicely. exhibit a:

Pray for me, I’ll run until I begin to understand What holy men really mean when they speak of sin

I’m what’s left when children go to war Run from you, I’ll run until I begin to understand What holy men really mean when they speak of sand and sons and seams and symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

“when children go to war” I take as when battling a disease. also “the hearts I’ve broken” from dying when there are people who love me. very tfios, I know. staying with someone, “I’ll haunt the very wrinkles of your skin”. and finally, “my eyes are made of winter and these hands I hold are skin and bone” for eyes made of winter could be blue eyes, could be eyes drained of life, as winter seems sometimes.

I don’t want to go into Little Miss Why So too much because it’s already so sad for me but here have some prominent lyrics

You’re going too fast You’ll burn up soon

Just to distract you

I don’t know how to reach you when you get like this I’ve been waiting for you to come home

Full of people just pretending to be brave

You don’t see daylight anymore Something’s sucking out your core and it’s so boring

Why so sad I’m here and I’m alive Stop making up death wishes just take my life line

If I am good will you come back

it’s a lot, I know. okay, New York Torch Song! tumour. yes.

It starts off like a pin prick A trick of the light oil slick Then grows to the size of your hand Turns you outside in Cigar burns and scar skin Ripping bone and nail and gland

connecting to this being a huge thing for both of them and trying to support the other through it but also not yet

From within this gaping wound of ours

Can’t we just talk about this Tomorrow

I cannot find the words to keep you

and now death

But your blood does not bleed red no more

Are you god or devil

Two Minutes, another devastating song. for me it’s similar to Shower Day, of trying to be strong and not showing her how hurt he is. “give me two damn minutes and I’ll be fine”. and the “him” in the following lyrics is the illness:

If there was one place I could be right now I’d be standing there between you and him And I’ll fight you both, fight you both for the rest of my life long days

and death. again. and the bar thing I’m thinking of it sounds far away. the other dead children are calling for me to go to them.

These hands are growing cold They’re running out of things to hold

I can hear the children calling as though across the bar

and some repeats like “if you’re good will you come back”

okay, that’s it for this theory in Love Run. I’m gonna go be sad now. goodnight.

#dear hearts #the amazing devil #analysis #tad #lr #love run

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mangled-nonsense · 4 years

Text

1. 2. 3. 4.

You rolled the events of what just happened over in your head, it being the only thing that consumed your thoughts. Not even the thought of where Wilford, or-or William, or the Colonel or WHOEVER he was, sprung up in your mind. There was too much going on for that.

I know he’s in pain. And I know you might be too.

You shook your head, screwing your eyes shut, desperate to pry the playing memory from your mind. But there was no pause button, no way to run away from it, voices overlapped each other, scenes exploded in your mind at random. It was painful, living a life you never even knew you lived, experiencing things in a body that was no longer your own. Your skin felt different, your eyes weren’t your own, it was like reality was wrapping and tumbling over itself.

Confusion didn’t even begin to explain it.

But we need to leave this place. There’s only death here now.

It was getting hard to breath, the struggle of keeping up with memories draining you and weakening you at the knees. Slamming against the door frame of the room, you gasped heavily, shivers wracking up and down your spine as you slid down to the ground. You reached out to clutch the fallen carnation, trying to find something to root you. Your fingers shakily stroked the soft petals, desperate for distraction, trying to count how many petals there were, but it was no help.

Who doesn’t like a little madness between friends? You heard Wilford’s words from your first meeting, and your hand shook violently.

Life needs a bit of madness.

I’ve got a room I’m just sick to death of, and the bullet holes in the walls aren’t even that bothersome. Much more your vibe, I’d think.

You barked out a hysterical laugh, dropping the carnation and shaking your head, dropping your head in your hands as your despair consumed you. Tears soaked the skin of your palms, your body shook like a leaf, your head going light from your irregular breathing.

It was an accident. I swear.

You weren’t quite sure when you started screaming.

And then, at some point, it went black.

Just relax.

This’ll work, I promise.

I-I wouldn’t have killed you. I-I didn’t kill you! I didn’t kill anybody.

It was all a joke.

You had been so used to waking up in a start the last several nights, that the sensation of waking up slow, and sluggish was like swimming through sludge. Progress being made, but one inch at a time, starting with the slow prying open of your eyelids.

Sound was second to come in- well, sound had been the first, but it was really registering it that came second.

You could hear the familiar sound of buzzing, and a sinking feeling in your gut told you Dark was there in the room with you. The distracted and halfhearted mumbling in song also told that Wilford was there too, and you would have preferred to close your eyes and sink back to the darkness... If only Wilford hadn’t noticed your eyes move.

“Careful!” Wilford said, launching up from his seat beside your bed to hover over you, pink mustache tickling your nose as he leaned in close, “Careful! You’ve had one helluva night, haven’t you?”

You didn’t respond, looking up at him in a daze. His mustered up smile weakened slightly, and he cleared his throat, laughing as he turned to Dark.

“S-Some technical difficulties it seems!”

“So it seems.” Dark echoed in what you could only assume was his attempt at sympathy.

Wilford turned back to you, smiling widely, but it never reached his eyes, and you could tell. They were dull, and lacked the familiar sparkle they held when he would grin manically, or chuckle gleefully. He was just pretending.

“...I don’t want...” You whispered hoarsely, just loud enough for Wilford to hear.

“Hm?” He perked up, leaning in closer, though it was completely unnecessary.

“...Him in my room.” You finished, and raised a pointed finger to Dark’s direction. The man showed no reaction, but you could see his jaw clench. A bubble of anger rose in your chest, and you narrowed your eyes.

“Get out... of my room. Now.” You hissed.

And Dark was gone.

“Now, now, you didn’t have to be nasty about it!” Wilford chided, wagging a finger as he leaned back and sat on the edge of the bed, “Sure, Damien’s a bit of a buzzkill, but let’s take this into account- he’s got some CLASS, huh?” He chuckled, nudging you. “I don’t know how that correlates in attitude but you can’t hate a guy that works a suit like that hm?”

“In my body?” You shot back, “I think I can.”

Wilford’s mouth snapped shut, and he turned his gaze down to his lap. Then he snorted once, looking back up with a grin quirking his features, “That was pretty good.” He chuckled. You looked at him disbelief.

“You killed me.” Was all you said. You could see him freeze, his grin plastered on his face, as he stared at you for a while.

“No, now that’s simply not true. I’ve never killed anyone.” He denied, shaking his head as he chuckled once more. You could feel your chest tighten.

“You killed me.” You repeated, “Even if it was by accident, you have to realize that.” Reaching over, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it so tightly he winced.

“Then how do you explain all this now?” He gestured to you with his free hand, and laughed, “I saw you hop right back up! Didn’t you know? Damien set the whole thing up, the rapscallion.”

“No he didn’t.” You said immediately, watching as he faltered. He laughed again, a bit more strained this time. He paused for a moment, before looking up at you, meeting your gaze.

“You can’t be mad at him, you know. That isn’t fair.” He turned his hand in your grip, intertwining his fingers with yours, “Damien was worried about this. Said you’d get upset about how it all ended up, but look at us now. Finding each other like this, isn’t that romantic? You’re fit as a fiddle, I’m as ssssssexy as ever, and Damien is... well, a little...” He waved his hand in a vague gesture, “You know, but it’s all ended up so nicely. What’s there to be upset about?”

You looked at him, dumbfounded, “...Do you really believe that?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your eyes searching his. He had to have some doubt in him, something telling him that it was wrong. But you couldn’t deny there was a sliver of sense in what he said. You were... alive, that much was true. Will was here. Damien was here. But it was like making the most of a sun damaged painting. Certainly, the painting was intact, but the image was faded and worn, and nothing like how it was before.

Things had to have consequences, surely.

Wilford was silent for a moment, before he smiled warmly, and squeezed your hand, “It’s not about believing it. It simply is how things are.”

You didn’t know how to respond.

“Now, however, there is something I do owe you.” He continued, removing his hand from yours, as he placed it instead behind his back, and waggled his eyebrows. Warily, you looked to his hidden hands, then back to him, prompting him to go on.

Whipping out his hand, held delicately between his index finger and thumb, was a single stem branching off to several blue forget-me-nots. You blinked owlishly and without thinking, accepted the flower.

“I realize I should apologize for forgetting about you, and for this whole dramatic affair.” Taking your free hand, he placed a kiss against your knuckles and waggled his eyebrows again, “And for that, I’m truly sorry. I’ve never been more apologetic in my life. Except with Abe. And possibly the mailman that one time, but he doesn’t come by anymore so that one doesn’t count and if the man comes by and tells you otherwise you make sure to NOT listen to a word the bastard says, hm?”

You nodded slowly, looking from the flowers to Will, and you noticed him looking at you strangely.

“... I am sorry, you know.” He said, softer this time, “I’m not all... there as I used to be. Though I don’t think I was ever really “there” at all, if you catch my drift. Who’s to say where “there” is at all? Everything sort of blurs now, moments and events jump around and the details, well I find they don’t matter. But- But you do, and you’re... important. You’re precious.” His eyebrows furrowed, as if it was difficult to work the words together, “So... So I want you to know it’s never on purpose. That I forget. And if I do, then you look at that flower, and remember, will you? Do you think you can remember for the both of us?”

There’s a moment where you have to consider some things.

Wilford would never accept the fact he killed you, no matter how many times someone would tell him, including yourself. And it hurt- not just hurt, it stung. It had to mean something, there had to be consequences. But in this world of... eccentricity and madness, there weren’t consequences. There was just nonsense and flowers. And it seemed you would have to get used to that.

You mustered up a smile, tucked the flower behind your ear, and nodded.

“I can try.” Was all you said. He beamed in joy.

Suddenly, he whirled to nothing, clapping his hands, “So then! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen and of COURSE all other configurations of being for reading! Five parts for five petals, you KNOW we love some poetic cinema!” He chuckled as a laugh track from no where played, “My name is Wilford Warfstache. Good NIGHT!”

You glanced out the window, squinting at the afternoon sun, before turning back to Wilford who was beaming.

“Is this how things are now?” You asked in slight exasperated. He nodded gleefully.

“Oh but it’s all fine now.” Wilford said, patting your hand, smiling, really smiling, and you nearly believed him, “Because it doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense!” He laughed once, then laughed again, before grabbing your face and kissing you with a satisfying mwah! as he pulled away.

“Now! You get some sleep, we got some ‘splainin to do with Damien later!” Jumping to his feet, he waved, blew you a kiss, before disappearing out of no where.

You leaned back against the bed’s headboard, dumbfounded at what just occurred. Almost self-consciously, your touched your lips, before immediately feeling ridiculous, and instead decided to pull the flower from behind your ear. You brought the forget-me-nots closer to you, before hearing the crinkle of paper, and to your surprise, something dropped from the corner of your eye. Out tumbled a crumpled piece of paper from no where, and curiously, you grabbed it, before smoothing it out.

Forget-Me-Nots. Faithful love. Undying hope. Memories. Do not forget. True love.

You sighed, closing your eyes.

Eccentricity and madness. You would have to get used to that.

#it is 3 in the morning and i rlly hope this is good #sorry this is SUPER LATE #wkm wilford #wilford warfstache #ahwm wilford #wilford x reader #wkm colonel #who killed markiplier #a heist with markiplier #drabble #drabbles

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banesapothecary · 4 years

Text

the beat of your heart (it jumps through your shirt) - flufftober day 31: free day

read on ao3

David is just finishing up replenishing the toner and facial cleanser when the door chimes. He looks up, smiling as he sees his husband making his way towards him.

“I ran into Ted at the café,” Patrick says casually as he pecks David’s cheek and hands him his coffee. “He said he and Alexis are having a last minute Halloween party tonight.”

“Um, no. Not happening,” David says, frowning. “Last minute parties are never good, and where the fuck am I supposed to find a costume now? This screams disaster.” He sits down on an empty space on the table, holding his cup carefully in his lap.

Patrick steps closer, fitting into the space between David’s legs. “It’s a party, David. It’ll be fun.” He punctuates his words with a quick kiss to David’s lips. It’s an unfair tactic but David can hardly bring himself to care. It reminds him of another time, one much earlier in their relationship. Under eye serum and unnecessary stress about his sister’s nonexistent pregnancy. And kisses. Lots of kisses.

Easily one of David’s favorite memories.

He smiles despite himself. “What would we even dress up as?”

“I was thinking we could do a couples costume,” Patrick says, leaning in for another kiss. He doesn’t pull away as quickly this time, his lips lingering on David’s and his hand lingering on David’s thigh.

David’s eyes widen and he sits up a little straighter. “We should do Notting Hill. I’ll be Anna because of Julia, obviously, and you can be Will, and—”

Patrick interrupts him with a kiss. He smiles shyly when he pulls back. “Actually, I had another idea.”

“Oh?” David asks, raising an eyebrow. “Lest we forget I make the creative decisions?”

Patrick laughs. “That’s for the store, babe. I think you’ll like this one.” The tips of his ears are pink, and his cheeks, too. A fallen eyelash sits starkly against the blush pink, and David brushes his thumb over it. The corner of Patrick’s mouth quirks up as David holds the eyelash on his thumb for Patrick to make a wish.

“Okay,” David says because he can compromise, damn it. “Tell me your idea.”

“What if we…went as each other?” Patrick suggests, staring at the pattern of David’s sweater instead of meeting his eyes.

David carefully sets his coffee cup down on the table next to him, instead grabbing Patrick’s hand on his thigh and playing absently with his fingers. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Patrick seems relieved that David didn’t shoot him down immediately. Braver, too. David squeezes his hand. “We dress in each other’s clothes. I wear one of your sweaters, and you wear something blue.”

David’s smiling when Patrick finally meets his eyes again. “I like it,” he says.

“You do?”

David nods. “I get to dress you up in nice, actual clothes? Of course I’m in.”

“You realize you have to dress up in my apparently not-nice, not-actual clothes, right?” Patrick asks, amused.

“We all make sacrifices for the people we love,” David answers gravely and Patrick laughs. He pulls David in for another kiss, and there’s nothing quick or chaste about this one.

***

They’re half an hour late to the party.

It’s Patrick’s fault really for suggesting the whole thing. The sight of his husband in David’s sweaters is just too much for David to stop himself from pressing Patrick against the wall and kissing him senseless. Patrick didn’t seem any more capable of doing anything else, either, if the heated look he’d given David when he’d first emerged wearing a blue button-up was anything to go by.

The sweater Patrick chose is really a command, too, with Love me tender written across his chest. David was helpless but to oblige.

No one seems to mind when they finally do arrive, though. Alexis and Ted are across the room, both dressed as cats, though Alexis’s rendition is far more revealing than Ted’s.

Alexis waves to him from across the room in a way that David knows instantly she’s already drunk. She blinks and smiles slowly at him as she takes in their costumes.

Patrick touches his arm. “I’ll get us some drinks,” he murmurs close to David’s ear. He kisses David’s cheek as he nods.

“So this is a thing that’s happening.” David turns as Patrick walks away, finding Stevie approaching with a smirk. She’s dressed in her usual flannel, but her face is painted like a zombie. A gross, gory zombie. David makes a face.

David looks down at his own outfit. “It was Patrick’s idea,” he says, unable to stop his smile from growing. He’d called it a sacrifice earlier in the store, but he truly doesn’t hate wearing Patrick’s shirt. The blue cotton is softer than he’d expected, and only a tiny bit snug. The first thing he’d noticed, though, and the most important, is that it smells like Patrick.

If not for the color, David might want to wear it every single day.

Stevie smiles, only half teasingly. “I like this look for you,” she says. I like this for you, she’d said once before.

David looks down at the floor for a moment, smiling so much it hurts. “Thank you,” he murmurs. He takes a breath and looks back up. “Okay, I’m too sober to be sappy right now, so let’s get drunk, please.”

A drink appears in front of David, and he turns gratefully to see Patrick grinning at him. “Happy to help,” he says.

David grins back. “I love you,” he says, accepting the drink and taking a sip. He leans in to kiss Patrick, the taste of spiked punch on both of their tongues.

“I love you, too,” Patrick whispers against his lips. “Happy Halloween.”

#david x patrick fic #david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #patrick brewer is gay #my fic #flufftober2019

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fallingin-like · 4 years

Text

november 5

paper skies by @allforthebee [requested by @annawrites]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is a fic with absolutely amazing descriptions and imagery. featuring librarian!andrew and a lot of introspection. the writing is so beautiful, i could not possibly capture how it made me feel in words. this fic was so so good.

this fic is so beautiful. i was intrigued by what you meant by it being a love letter to Bluets but now i understand. i’ve started to read a free preview of Bluets (on google books) and i think i’m falling in love with it too. it’s the kind of book that you need a physical copy of. i immediately looked up where i could purchase a copy. the cover is so nice (i’m seeing the one that’s all blue with the square in the middle) i was disappointed that none of the stores within a reasonable distance stock this. i think i love the colour blue too. it seems everytime i read something about it, i feel it. this fic, Bluets, and one other fic, “where everything is good”. it also seems to fit andrew well.

parts that i especially liked (it’s almost embarrassing that i’m almost quoting the whole fic):

”he stares at the seam for a moment, before deciding he likes it. he makes a mental note to tell bee. she likes when he tells her things like that.” i like that this version of andrew lets himself like things. i like that he knows bee well enough to know what she likes and i like that he wants to do things that he likes. i especially like that he acknowledges that he is capable of doing things that other people like. sometimes i find that people in the fandom (myself included) are guilty of forgetting that andrew experiences emotion. that he experienced it before meeting neil and he experiences it after (even when neil is not around). it makes me feel like this is a softer version of andrew, but i realise that this is just andrew. we don’t know what he’s thinking during the series but even though he doesn’t emote often, he must have thoughts like these.

”he doesn’t understand why books aren’t organized by colour. andrew could tell more about a book by the dye of its sleeve than the content of its pages.” can you imagine? this would make a library so beautiful. i really like this

”he moves onto fiction, starting with z because sometimes going backwards is less overwhelming.” YEs

”he doesn’t trust the blues that can’t decide whether or not they want to be blue. they leave behind a residue, and andrew feels the weight of them long after he’s washed his hands” the way you describe this is so good. i feel this even if i don’t fully understand it

”he’s not the type to have a collection of blue coloured things at home, but if he sees a particularly striking bouquet of forget-me-nots, or the rough swells of cobalt sea, he’ll pause and allow himself the moment to exist” this feels very much like andrew. i love the last part of this. i think i need to practice this as well, seeing something that is lovely and pausing and allowing myself the moment to exist.

”because, in the twenty-six years andrew had been alive, he’d come to find that blues hurt the most. because, in a world that insists nothing meant anything unless you let it, andrew had been quick to learn everything meant something whether you want it to or not.” this makes me hurt, too. sometimes things are too beautiful, you love too much, you let yourself fear, and it hurts more for it. the wording of this is so nice.

“post-google dust rises from the shelf, and andrew makes a face” this is a great example of the amazing humour that you incorporate in this fic. it’s funny and lightens the fic, but doesn’t feel out of place.

”three years ago, andrew sat across the table from a boy who looked just like him, only to walk out and leave him behind” i really really like the way you wrote this, but i can’t describe it. the words you chose are perfect.

”he didn’t know how disappointing andrew could be” oh no andrew. (but also, this hits a bit different bc it’s too close to what my own inner monologue sounds like sometimes. it makes me feel exposed and raw and also not as alone as i previously felt)

”oh, andrew thought. this is what blue feels like” THIS HURTS.

”and so he bounced from house to house, painting himself with bruises, in the hopes that he would find someone out there who loved the colour blue” ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHhhh

”if someone tears a line into their carpet and no one is there to witness it, does it still hurt?” if someone tears lines into themselves and no one is there to witness it, does it still hurt? (i do not know the answer to this.)

”he starts to fidget when he stays in one place for too long, like he’s afraid his bones will sprout leaves if he’s rooted in one place” i don’t want be too bold in my interpretations of your work, but to me this feels like something andrew has learned from his time as a child. the longer he stays in a home, the deeper his roots are, the more hopeful he becomes, the more it hurts when he is forced to move.

i love your descriptions of the sky. they’re gorgeous.

”there’s a song in his head, but he doesn’t remember the words” i really like that you added this sentence.

”summer lightning shatters the sky, and andrew shivers electric blue” this imagery is amazing. you have such a way with words that something so simple has such impact

this concept of the difference between liking things that don’t change vs things that stay the same. i see myself in this. ever since i was a child, i’ve been very resistant and afraid of change. i think i do prefer things that don’t change, but i’ve never thought about it this much.

”after all, if all you’ve ever known is change, then that’s staying the same, no? and, from what you’ve told me, blue is always changing.” oh

”andrew’s mouth goes a little slack. pretty.” THIS MAKES ME FEEL SO SOFT.

i cannot believe that neil walks in, andrew immediately thinks he’s pretty, then absolutely refuses to respond to him. what an icon

”there’s intent in labels, and andrew doesn’t want for anything” ahhh

ANDREW STAMPS THE SAME CARD FIVE TIMES

“neil josten, he mouths, tasting sea water” i read this and just marvel for the thousandth time at how good you are at writing

”andrew debates painting the walls with blue glitter-glue” CAN YOU IMAGINE. ANDREW ON A LADDER PAINTING THE WALLS WITH BLUE GLITTER

”i’m pretty sure i learned the alphabet in kindergarten” neil, you’re killing me.

andrew’s library must be so beautiful! it has stained glass? amazing.

”makes me feel like more than i am” this is how this fic makes me feel.

SORRY ANDREW PUSHES NEIL AROUND ON HIS CART THAT’S SO ADORABLE

can you believe that andrew kept neil’s license in his pocket for WEEKS. he must have changed pants during that time and just, ‘whoop gotta bring neil’s id bc what if he visitssss’

i can’t believe that you forced me to look at the standard error of regression slope and standard error of difference of sample means with my own eyes. what terrible formulae. i like math, but these are really just The Worst

”andrew’s world has been reduced to a rainbow pack of post-it notes, and somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to miss blue”

”andrew feels raw, like a blossoming bruise. he gets this way after his sessions with bee. the truth is a dirty fighter, and it leaves him ugly and sore for days. he should’ve known blue always comes back” there are no words that exist that i could use to sufficiently respond to this. i can only say that this is so special, these are the kinds of sentences that stay with you

”they stay like that for a while, neil kissing away the taste of blue until andrew’s left tasting bright orange” !!!

did you know, my favourite type of gummy bear is the blue ones?

i love the integration of quotes from the book into this fic. they work very well in separating the fic in sections and help establishing the tone. there are so many good quotes/numbers in Bluets, i’m curious how you chose which to include? and of these, how did you choose what part of each number to use?

this fic is amazing. i’ve read it before in the past and now that i’m coming back to comment on it, i do not know why i have never commented before. this is something special. you have humour that fits so well with your style of writing. you make writing seem so easy, it’s as if the words have always existed and just needed to be written down. what a pleasure to read. my brain is not good at producing imagery while i read, but it seemed like i watched this fic play out instead of reading it. everything is so vivid and realistic and you pick out just the right details, you add just the right sentence. it makes me more aware of what i am feeling and the absence of feeling (i repress a lot of emotions lol) this fic makes me want so bad. this is the kind of fic that i will think about long after i have read it. it’s so raw and intense and real and it feels very true to andrew.

one of my favourite parts of this fic is how you use your word choice, tone, pacing, and quotes. you are a very skilled writer. when i read this everything around and inside of me goes quiet.

thank you so much for writing this.

#paper skies #aftg fic review #raelle writes

18 notes · View notes

itsakpopalypse · 5 years

Text

Lost In a Dream

moodboard made by @memoiresofaneternaldreamer (thank you again for inspiring this fic with this beautiful moodboard and collabing with me, you're the ABSOLUTE best!!!) Original post is here please go give love also!!

Cold sweat mats your hair to the back of your neck and around your hairline. Your breath comes heavy and hot, barely flowing out between quivering lips.

Kihyun.

His fingers so gentle, so soft, lips pulled back over pointed teeth gleaming in low light, flickering fire in the corner- playing orange and yellow on his skin. The air is full of him. The world is glitter and holographic rainbows and silken sheets and desire. It’s unheard of, the spark within you, far from mundane and far too perfect to explain.

You’re rolling at his gentle direction, granting him the entirety of your bared soul and silky skin from your shoulders to the widening of your hips. His hands follow a path made for them, slowly trailing across your burning body. “Petal, the sun will rise soon. The fog will wipe this from your mind.” His voice is resigned but sure. You know he’s right and the panic builds in your chest at the reality. Flowers and moss surround the bed, the smell in the air is so fresh, it always is like this near him. Alive. Clean. Meaningful. The air nearly sparkles when he speaks.

“Don’t leave me.” You whisper into the pillow, lips touching feather soft against the nape of your neck have you reeling, his fingers loop into your hair to pull it away, granting him further access to the expanse of skin beneath. His breath is warm and damp, you can feel the desperation in his touch.

“You have me.” He replies. True to his kind, you will get no solid answer. “You have me and I have you. What is a little distance when your heart beats between my ribs?”

You roll over, pulling him to hover above you so you can see the sincerity you know is there.

“I want you whole. Real. Not pieces stuck in my imagination. "

"I am real. This is real. The only thing you are imagining is that-" his finger points to the door which is opening, streaks of morning light cutting through the darkness. "That is a distraction. "

You can feel tears teasing your lashes. "I don't want to. I don't want to."

You are a petulant child and you fight the slow slip into reality, you grasp the fullness of his cheeks,thumbs brushing under his eyes.

His eyes are warm and his smile is gentle, and he holds your soul inside his as he murmurs soft promises and bids you farewell. "You must wake. But you're still mine. "

The soft rumble of his voice pulls you away. The edges of heaven slip out of your grasp and the real world crashes down like cold water. Reality is hateful and dull, leaving you weighed down and burdened. Your skin itches with memory. You cannot see a face, you cannot recall the substance of the dream but you're on fire with longing. Someone is missing you as you miss them. Someone is out there. A sweetpea sits beside your bed,one that was not there when you fell asleep. Delicate, pleasure, bliss, departure after having a good time.

It never made sense, but you had been receiving flowers with similar messages for as long as you could remember.

Soulmates weren't anything new, but most people remembered the face from their dreams. All you remember is fog and velvet kisses. Promises and a whisper. It's not fair, honestly. It's unheard of. Everyone sees their soulmate and when they meet them, it clicks. You're scared to tell anyone you can't see their face when you wake, so when asked you avoid it or act as though you're too shy. The flowers also, were inexplicable.

There's services to contact to look based on description but you don't have one to give. So you deflect and hope when you see them you'll just know.

You begin getting yourself ready for work, knowing another boring day awaits, and wish you could return to the world that lives in your mind.

------

“Y/N! There’s a customer downstairs, can you check in please?” Your boss calls from the hallway, poking his head in to catch your attention. You look up from the plants your misting gently.

“Got it Sebastion.” You reply with a smile, setting down the spray bottle. “I’ll be right back.” You whisper to the plants, fingers gently tracing the edge of a leaf as you leave your favorite part of the job for a few minutes.

“Hello, welcome to Dream Blossoms, can I help you make a selection?” You ask as you approach the customer. He turns, and your momentarily struck. He has light pink hair, shaggy around his eyes which are warm and smiling. The corner of his lips tick up in greeting, and some warm tingle runs down your spine. You can’t explain it. It’s not the bolt of lightening you have heard is from soulmates, but the tingle is far too strong to go unnoticed.

When he speaks, his voice is quiet but firm and it draws you nearer, your feet following a path you don’t yet know yourself.

“Hello. I do think I could use your help.” The base of your neck feels hot, like someone is breathing on it. It isn’t unpleasant, as it would normally be, instead it’s welcoming.

“I am looking for a flower that expresses sorrow. Maybe one for longing… “ He pauses pursing his lips thoughtfully in a way that is far too attractive and makes the apples of your cheeks color. “Something about incandescent happiness.” His hands are in his pockets, but when he turns his body toward you, the draw pulls harder.

“I can throw something together, is it, for a lover?” You pass by him, and notice vaguely that the air near him smells less like a person and more like freshness. Clean and lively, and so so inviting.

“It’s. For someone who is very special. They’ll understand it all together. Perhaps you can incorporate forget-me-nots?” His eyes wrinkle when he smiles, and for a moment, the very edges of his teeth seem sharper than they should, and his eyes, did they change color?

The dreams must be getting to you, in your lack of sleep you are imagining insanity.

You eye him for a moment, desperate for a read on him. Deciding the bouquet is likely for his soulmate, you continue in your job, pushing the strange longing away. “Okay, give me a moment I think I can convey a feeling for you.” you incline your head to the chair in the corner flanked by orchids. “Have a seat please.”

You’d need white tulips, lily of the valley, blue bells, cutting and arranging various flowers to fit his description. Something appeared off. Unbalanced, without a thought, you grab some white sweet pea and add it into the bouquet, pulling the entire message together .

Upon returning a short while later, you gesture to the man. “Here, I think this should be right.”

He hurries to your side, something sparkling in his eyes as he looks over your work. He looks more excited than you’d expect, his skin brushing against yours a few seconds longer than you would expect. It feels natural and you want to sigh when he pulls his hand back and clears his throat. “It’s lovely. Can you.. Tell me why you chose what you did?”

“Of course. White tulips are best for a sincere apology, lilly of the valley indicating the return of happiness, and the blue bells for devotion, and you asked for the forget-me-nots so I assume you know they have several meanings. It’s sort of what inspired the others I picked. “

“Remembrance, connection even over time and distance, loyalty… Yes.” He nods, there's something sly in his smile, but you continue.

“Yes.”

“And the sweet pea?” He steps a little closer, “ Why that?” He seems nearly out of breath when he asks, leaning close to you, invading the bubble you kept to yourself. You shouldn't be okay with it, but you allow it, unable to bare backing away from the warmth that radiates from his being. He feels like life and happiness and it sends a rush down your limbs that you can’t describe, and he hasn’t even touched you.

“It was more of a haunch. You’re apologizing but trying to show your affection. It didn’t seem like it was something too heinous, more like you had been lost to them but are coming back. Did I assume too much?”

His smile widens, his eyes wrinkling and cheeks nearly covering his eyes. Oh. It’s a beautiful sight, and one that doesn’t belong to you, you remind yourself.

“It’s better than I could have hoped.” He replies and after paying, gives you a final smile and wave on his way out.

You wish you understood the way your heart followed him through the doors. It was silly, and wrong. You shook off the feeling and got back to tending the flowers. Your dreams must be altering your expectations.

---

“You nearly had me.” He whispers into your neck, trailing gentle kisses across your collarbone. “This will all be better soon, I promise.“

You heave a sigh into his hair. Casting your gaze to the bouquet on the silver side table, engraved and ornate. Fireflies dance in the air around you and the skylight lets in the moonlight. You don’t know where he has taken you but you know you trust him with your everything.

“Why must we go so slow. If you found me, isn't that all there is?”

The tinkle of his laughter fills your ears, a sound you will never get tired of. “Not so simple, Petal. You are a woman of much distrust. I have to snatch you up the way my kind always must, if I’m to have you.” His nose scrunches as he meets your eyes with another light giggle.

"Remind me why you won't just tell me? After all this time and you've finally found 'day' me, but you won't just tell me who you are to me?"

You know you're pouting but it doesn't feel fair. You're getting to an age where people are going to wonder if you're undeclared… if your someone is already gone somehow. A cruel twist of fate before you'd even met.

You don't remember those things, of course, only the concepts around them, since your days slip from your mind at night the same way your nights slip your mind during the day. It's unfair, but loving Kihyun is worth it, will always be worth it.

"I'm sure you'd respond wonderfully to 'Hello, I'm Kihyun. I'm a fae living in the woods past a ‘glamour and I help bring the flowers. Oh, also I'm the man of your dreams.’" He poked your cheek gently with a laugh. "Oh! Literally. "

You scrunch up your nose in distaste but can't help the small huff of laughter. "Okay. Fine. If I heard that line I would likely never speak to you again. Cheesy."

"You love the way I am. You have to. That’s what soulmates mean.”

You shudder as the room begins to fade, and fear clouds your eyes-you reach for him. “Not again. I’m not ready to forget you.”

He gives you the same saddened, resigned face as every night. “You must wake. But you're still mine." His fingers begin to lose warmth against your cheeks as everything blurs. “You’ll be with me again soon. When this is over there will be no end to us.”

The streaks of light cloud your vision and you rub your eyes. The smell of fresh flowers sours.

You wake, and all is gone.

----

“I never thought I’d see you sneaking around. Aren’t you supposed to be the good son?”

Kihyun turned to meet his brother’s eyes, unsurprised he had been followed by the light footed prince. He wore a teasing smile and his dark prowling outfit, no doubt on his way into a colony somewhere to experience the nightlife without the guards. Byeongkwan was a bit more… Outgoing, than himself.

Kihyun preferred to follow the rules, but the current situation was getting desperate. He was tired of the empty ache in his stomach when you weren’t there. He was tired of waiting for you to figure out something that was a bit too mystical for the human mind, and he was a bit too excited to hold you in the day time. It wouldn’t kill him to bend the rules a bit, just this once. After all, he was going to visit an artifact maker, not overthrow the Sirens.

“Yes well. Priorities.” He replied finally, watching his younger sibling’s smirk grow as he stepped into Kihyun’s space. Byeongkwan’s eyes sparkled and he genuinely looked full of glee at the discomfort Kihyun felt about disobeying. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do what he wanted… he was next in line for the throne… but there was a way things were done, to keep the glamour safe, and he wasn’t used to messing with the tried and true methods.

“Priorities,” Byeongkwan replied, stepping back with mischief in his eyes still, hand raising to show the dangling chain he had unsurprisingly picked off of Kihyun.

Always did have incredibly quick hands, that one.

“So it’s related to your lady, then isn’t it. Y/N.” He sat in the windowsill, holding the necklace up for inspection. The royal jewel pendant on the end glittered with a rainbow prism when the light filtered through it, something akin to moonstone but with more magick, more fire.

He squinted at his brother and held his hand out to receive the necklace. “Yes yes, you are a master of whispers and a knower of all secrets. I am suitably impressed. You can return it now.”

Byeongkwan sighed, placing it directly in Kihyun’s palm. ”Taking it to the enchanter, hm? You want her to know. Everything. I think it’s nice.” He smiled, wholesome and for once without a hint of teasing. It would have been a pretty smile, if he hadn’t ended it with one flicked up eyebrow, closing Kihyun’s hand around the pendant.

“Don’t lose this again.” He leaned in closer, this time with a glint that left Kihyun a little worried. “They won’t like this, and they already know.” His lips didn’t move, and his voice was too low to be picked up, it was likely he had used an enchantment of some kind, one without an incantation, which meant he genuinely believed they were being watched at this moment.

It took everything in Kihyun to not react or look for the source of the spying. Instead he smiled back in his most warm way. Nodding as he stepped back.

“She means everything, I won’t let this opportunity pass me up.” Kihyun watched Byeongkwan’s smile take on the knowing edge that made him as dangerous as he was. The message had been received on both sides. Kihyun needed to see you tonight, after dropping this necklace off.

----

“Loosen up, Y/N. You never know, you might meet your soulmate here! It’s not unusual for you to run into them in places like this.” Your friend laughed as she made a gesture to the rest of the dimly lit bar. It was open mic night and the person singing now was… less than fantastic.

Your head hurt and you wanted to leave. It was smelly and crowded and there were too many bodies in the tight space. “Right. Soulmate.” You nodded, knowing that wouldn’t happen. You couldn't even see his face how would you see him? You didn’t want to let out your secret so you forced a smile and lifted your drink to your lips. It was sweet, something that your friend had picked. It didn’t feel great going down, somewhat burning and the tingles it left in your fingertips were the only blessing. Perhaps with a buz it wouldn’t seem so sad that you were in this place when you wanted to be at home under your fuzziest blanket in your biggest shirt. You tugged at the hem of your dress, something a bit tighter than you were used to, but more than fitting for the scene.

“Yes. Soulmate. We are getting to be an age where we should and could meet them anywhere!” Your friend loved the idea, her smile sparkly and genuine. You matched it best you could and nodded to the change of singer, an older woman in her mid 50’s singing off key to Journey.

“Maybe there's yours.” you teased and your friend rolled her eyes, laughing off your joke as she motioned that her glass was empty and made her way through the crowd and from your table to get a new one.

You focused on the inside of your glass, uninterested in the crowd pushing in, when the song changed again and a voice that could only be described as hypnotic hit your ears. You looked up, shocked to find the man from the flower shop on the small stage, and somehow, his eyes found you as he sang. It stirred something in your chest, aligning the same as the other day. This time you would blame the combination of loneliness and alcohol, though. What you couldn’t explain away was the way his eyes burned into you as he sang, drifting closed only to hit notes that seemed far outside the average person’s vocal range.

Something about him was too enthralling to miss a second of, so you drank him in thirstily, unable to quench the longing in you. When he finished and the entire bar erupted into applause, you swallowed thickly at the lump that had formed in your throat. You heard someone sit opposit you, and fully expected your friend, but were met with someone else's eyes.

This guy… you’d seen him here on other nights. He was attractive, but he was a bit smoother than your tastes desired. His middle part exposed a regal brow set with a stud, eyes piercing and strong beneath them. He was far prettier than someone who belonged here, and he prowled the joint enough that you knew what he came here for.

“Did you enjoy the song?” He asked voice so deep it resonated in your chest, banging around like a caged bird. His eyes flitted from the low neckline of your dress back up to your lips before settling on your eyes.

“I think everyone did.” You replied as nonchalantly as you could. “He belongs on a real stage.”

For some reason, that amused your guest. He grinned, eyes sharp suddenly, leaning forward, all aloofness suddenly gone.

The room felt fuzzier somehow, when he neared. “He certainly doesn’t belong here. You are right about that.” He seemed to say it more to himself than to you, and it was strange that you felt the air a bit tinglier than before. You glanced at your still half full second glass… you shouldn't be feeling this much this quickly. You'd eaten.. and you'd been here over an hour…

"I.M. I think I saw your friends looking for you. Maybe you should go and meet them.” It was him. He had come your way, the man from the shop, who sings so beautifully. However, this time when he spoke, instead of a gentle voice, it had a sharpness to it that was unfamiliar. He seemed... Irked? Jealous? His handsome face was tight and lacked the soft smiles you had grown to love far too fast. Any trace of the pleasant wrinkles and endearing nose scrunches far gone.

The man in the other seat, I.M as he had been called, was smirking knowingly at the Flower Guy. They stared silently at each other, one stoic, one amused. It wasn’t a cruel smile but there was an edge to it, like they were silently exchanging a conversation you weren’t privy to. After a moment, his smirk turned to a full, bright smile, and he turned back to you, grasping your hand gently and placing a soft kiss on the top. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m sure we will see each other soon.” His deep voice had not lost its charm.

You nodded back, “Perhaps.” Was all you could think to say, your cheeks were burning but it wasn’t because of I.M’s low tones or flirty smiles, or even the way his lips had grazed your hands. It was the intense, unwavering stare of the Flower Guy. You felt nearly aflame under his gaze. As I.M departed you bit your lip, almost afraid to meet his dark eyes.

When you did, you were pleased to see the darkness had seeped out, instead replaced with a different type of intensity, but his lips were turned up at the corners now. You’d have sighed in relief but you didn’t want him catch on.

“Petal. Pleasure to see you here.” His voice was soft again, as it had been the first time you met. It sent tingles down your spine. Or was that still the drink? You didn’t know. The air was too full, too full of oxygen and you were nearly heaving from the high of it.

“Is it? I don’t even know your name, nor do you seem to know mine.”

An eyebrow lifted in response, tongue darting to the corner of his lips momentarily as he considered his response. “Mh. I know your name, Y/n. Petal fits you better.”

Oh. Oh. Why did that make the inside of your chest feel so full? Your head was still light and silly. It didn’t make sense, but the closer Flower Guy got, the more grounded you felt.

“Whole.” You murmured to yourself, slipping between your too loosened lips.

“What was that, Petal?” His teeth looked sharp again gleaming behind his lips. It must be a trick of the light dancing on their tips, and the fire water flowing in your veins.

“Nothing. Just thinking about something.” You replied, licking your lips and hoping he wouldn't inquire further.

Your phone buzzed on the table, blessedly giving you reprieve from his eyes.

I’m leaving with Matt. You good?

Your friend had rekindled with her on again off again fling clearly, and while you didn’t begrudge her a good time, you also weren’t sure you were going to sober up in time to be safely home. It was best to call for a car service, because you weren’t sure walking was a great idea in your state either.

“Everything alright?” His voice dragged you out of your thoughts, a finger gently unwrinkling your brow- you hadn’t even known that you had furrowed.

“Yeah. My friend is leaving, so I should probably try to find a way home too. I didn’t come here for me.” Flower Guy started to look concerned, his own brows so beautifully creasing. “I’d rather curl up in bed anyway, dreams are the best part of my day.” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, realizing the whimsy in your voice was perhaps uncalled for with a new acquaintance.

Inexplicably, it seemed to please him though, his eyes darted to the table top and he covered his smile behind one hand, clearing his throat before smoothing his face into a more neutral position and asking you. “Soulmate dreams, then?”

“Ah.” you frown, unsure how to answer. “I suppose. I can never remember. But I wake up happy. Happier than ever.”

Something indiscernible crosses his face and he smiles again, it’s one of the extra dazzling ones where his cheeks cover his eyes and his nose scrunches. “Oh. I should assist you in getting to your bed then. So you can be happy.”

Your eyebrows shot up in shock. He-What? His hands were already rising in defense, shaking them back and forth as though to push your thoughts away, his face panicked.

“NO! Oh. No. I meant.” His cheeks puffed as he sucked in too much air and scratched the back of his neck. “I meant it in the way where I help you get a driver and make sure you get home safe. From outside. I won’t go in... to your bed. Where you sleep that's. Uh. That’s not what I meant and…” He was cute flustered, cheeks tinging pink and words rushing out on top of each other. You couldn't help but laugh, placing two fingers on his lips to stop the babble.

“I got it. Thank you.”

He nodded, clearly still embarrassed. It didn’t stop his lips from pouting out slightly into the pressure from your fingers, so soft and…

No. Not a safe line of thought. You had to admit that while you had initially found him attractive, every time you saw him it intensified. You were starting to wonder what made him smile. What made him infinitely happier. Was it the person he had gotten the flowers for?

Why were you still touching him??

He didn’t speak more as your fingers dropped from his lips, instead he stared at your hand in your lap and stood, clearing his throat again. Then he took your hand in his own to help you to your feet. It would have been suave, and gone perfectly, had not some very intoxicated patron bumped directly into you and set you off balance as you lifted yourself, so instead you stumbled and fell on Flower Guy fully. He caught you, gripping you in a sheltering way to his toned and warm chest.

When you looked into his eyes to thank him, the room seemed to slow. Nothing made sense for a moment. The entire universe took a moment to stem the tides of time and the only thing you saw was the shine within his gaze. The truth lay there, something about fate.

“Ah! Y/N!”

.....And just like that, the spell was broken, you righted yourself, pushing gently against Flower Guy’s chest to do so.

“Simon.” You nodded in the direction of the interruption.

“Why are you here? You hate going out.. You have always hated going out. It’s part of why we didn’t work.” Simon looked smug and you just wanted to turn and walk away. He didn't deserve your time, after sleeping with other people in clubs because you were ‘no fun’.

Before you could defend yourself, Flower guy smirked, that hardened expression back. Instead, he replied for you. “That’s why we are headed home. If you’ll excuse us.” You weren’t sure how he had so quickly read the vibe, but you were thankful, and now he had rescued you in some way or another, three times within the night.

Simon stood back, fumbling to reply as Flower Guy entwined your fingers and cast you a sultry smile, the type you had yet to see, but very much hoped you’d see more of, because it forced your heart into your throat.. “Let’s go, Petal.” Before leading you out onto the sidewalk.

He hailed a cab and still got inside, but not until assuring you he was only doing it so he could pay and take it to his own home.

You thanked him as you got out in front of your building, and asked him for his name. He only smiled and said. “Next time, Petal. Third time is always a charm.”

You weren't sure why, but as the door to the cab slammed shut before you, you knew your dreams were going to be more... intense this time.

----

"You're impossible. Irredeemable. I do not condone it." Kihyun is half serious and his scolding comes with the lightest of taps on your rear, as though punishment for your so called crimes. It doesn’t last though, and as gentle as it was to start with, he runs his hands over the spots he swatted reverently. “It’s naughty. You are in trouble.” His lips pout prettily with the words and you want to be serious but you can’t.

You're laughing, cuddled into his embrace, you don't take offense because his voice has that teasing note that means you're about to be complimented.

"Am I?" You ask with softly pouted lips, gazing up into his eyes through your lashes.

"Yes. You're in a lot of trouble, Petal. You draw others to you like wil o’ whisps to a lost traveler. AND those you draw are of my people, dangerous and seductive. " he is trying to frown, and you can tell worries lie behind his eyes, but he's too full of love for you make to you feel any true shame.

"Seductive? Are you being jealous?" You crave his jealousy. You know what nights it brings you when he is on fire with it. The way it makes his movements less careful and adoring, more desirous and heady.

You love it when he devours your love like the sweetest dessert.

"Jealous? Perhaps. Worried? More than I can say. Impatient for you to come to me? Ardently. I want to steal you away. Scoop you up into my arms and drag you to the veil. When I finally get you, you'd better be ready." Danger sparks in his eyes. The exact type of danger that makes your skin too tight and your fingers itch to wrap around him. You love it when he pushes you to the brink of desire…

"You're a silver tongued seducer on your own. Why would I ever turn to another?" You question, breathless and leaning in to him as a reed sways in the wind.

"You won't." And you know he's right. The words drip off his sweetened silver tongue so full of promises you know he will keep. After all… fae can't lie.

He's laid his soul bare for you so many nights, that games aren't what he wants. There isn't a riddle in the way between you. Just circumstances.

All deception would do is complicate your arrival and his impatience is too overwhelming.

"Because I'm still yours." You remind him, as the fog begins to roll in with the sun, and he nods, bittersweet and determined.

"I’ll make it right." He whispers.

You gasp awake, clutching your heaving chest and wondering why your skin felt alight. You swallowed and gazed at the sun coming up. For some reason, you felt so loved. Someone out there felt things for you that you could hardly fathom. You still couldn’t see a face, but some missing piece clicked now. You felt the emotions. Longing, happiness, affection, impatience. Something was different, this morning.

When you saw fresh sweet peas by your bed again you couldn’t bite back your grin.

It would be a new day

----

The line at the cafe was a bit shorter than usual and you considered yourself lucky, hustling inside before your shift at the flower shop. Your apron was hanging out of your jacket pocket and you were very ready for your daily cold brew. The wind wasn’t quite cold enough to bite your fingertips and force you to switch to your winter drink.

The jingle of the bell behind you didn’t catch your attention until you smelled that strange floral freshness that drew you in. Flower Guy, it had to be, no one else could elicit the same response, your heart quickening pace and your fingertips buzzing. Should you turn around and greet him? No isn’t that strange, considering you shouldn’t recognize him by smell??

Stay cool, y/n, stay cool. Instead you go up and order your drink, lightly sweetened and stand off to the side pretending not to see him out of the corner of your eye. Hiding behind your hair as you lift your phone as though you are texting someone. He’s watching you, and biting his bottom lip to hold back a smile. His head tilts to one side and you notice his hair has changed a little. It’s still soft pink, but now it also has an undercut, and the way it’s swooped away from his brow bone has your heartbeat quickening, even without a solid look at him. His eyebrows lift and he seems about to say something to you, but instead goes to the counter to order since the line has moved. You notice him settle in standing beside you as he waits for his drink.

“Petal. I told you there would be a third meeting, didn’t I?” His voice is as honeyed and smooth as ever, and you have to bite back the little noise you so desperately want to make.

Trying to act as though you are surprised it’s him, you look up and smile gently. “Oh. Hello. You also told me that on the third meeting you would tell me your name, didn’t you.”

He does that beautiful, breathtaking smile again, the one that causes creases to form beside his eyes and lights your soul up like the sun.

“I did. And I will. Let’s sit for a minute.” He tilts his head to indicate a nearby table. You check your watch, unsure if you have time to sit before work.

You have never been late before though, and your boss wouldn’t scold you if it wasn’t very late…

You meet his eyes and nod, taking a seat as he slides across from you. “I’m glad I saw you here… I was going to go by the shop soon in fact, because there’s something I needed to talk to you about. I thought it would entice you into coming somewhere with me.”

You want to blurt out that everything about him is enticing, alive, and enchanting but you manage to control it. Instead you laugh a little and look at your hands on the table, where his fingers slowly, and with plenty of time for you to stop him, gently lace in between yours on the table. Your palms don’t meet, and it’s not quite holding hands, but it means something and you can tell.

You don’t want to be conflicted but you are, because those flowers were for some one.

“What about your…” You search for the right word, eyes darting from his fingers to his lips to the fringe that tickles the side of his brow. “Person? The one you got the bouquet for.” You clarify.

He giggles.

Giggles.

“What if I told you that was a ploy to talk to you?” Mischief sparkles in his eyes and he brushes up and down your index finger with his thumb, the tiniest touch is making your chest feel tight and full and you are realizing it is getting harder and harder to deny that this feels what people explain. This feels like soulmates? But it was a slow fall, not that instant dunk into a freezing tank of water, instead, it was like you had been in water that was warm, and it was slowly getting hotter and hotter, and you had barely realized it before it began to boil.

It didn’t fit the descriptions, but it meant something, it had to.

“I would-" but you were cut off by the ringing of his phone. He gave you an apologetic smile and checked it. The frown that crept onto his face told you that it wasn’t good. .

“I have to take this.” He said, but he looked torn and hurt by it.

“It’s an emergency. We’ll catch up next time. Maybe fourth time is the real charm, for us.” You said with a small smile, trying to convince him you were okay with it. He squeezed your hand in his reassuringly before scuffling out of the coffee shop, forgetting his drink on the counter as he did. You got up to grab both drinks and saw a small blue box on the chair he had been in. As you returned to the table to investigate, you saw there was “Petal” written on it in neat handwriting. This was for you?

You picked up the box and put it in your jacket pocket, and hurried out in the direction he had gone, hoping to catch him in the parking lot with the coffee.

The wind was blowing your hair into your face and making it hard to see, but you were rushing too much to care. It took a moment to go through and realize that he was long gone, and you held the two coffees and chewed your lip, trying to figure out what to do.

“Look! A lost flower in the big city.” A deep familiar voice was too close, causing you to jump forward and spin to meet their gaze. I.M Strange, but he seemed to know your Flower Guy.

You greeted him with an uneasy smile. “Oh, hi, did you see… I-I don’t know his name?”

A smile slowly stretched across his face, eyes sparkling with some mischief. “Your darling? I can help you find him. For a price.”

You squint for a moment, something about the situation felt a little.. Off? “What kind of price?”

“Oh don’t worry. It won’t seem like much. But I may have need of a favor from you. No money or tricks. Just a no questions asked favor.” I.M looked more honest but you still felt uncertain. Flower Guy hadn’t seemed to like him so much, unless that was just jealousy… You didn’t have much of a choice, something inside you nagged at you that Flower Guy needed you for something. An inner calling that began beneath your ribs and wrapped into each one like a vine. The constriction was suffocating. You didn’t know why, but you knew you needed to go to him… Was it worth the price?

Deciding that it was better to give a favor to this man than to have something bad happen, you nodded. “Alright. One favor. Within REASON.”

The smile that slid onto his face made you question your decision but you stayed resolute. Something was wrong, and you needed to help.

He extended his hand to you in a deep bow, you scoffed but took it, and he lead you away.

----

The greenery around you was lush and vibrant, and the smell in the air was the same as that ozone smell before a storm. You felt uneasy but at home all at once, and it made your skin itch as you drew your arms across your chest in defensive posture.

Coffees long forgotten, the box in your pocket felt heavy for some reason, the air around you grew still. You eyed I.M as he turned around finally, eyes unreadable.

“We approach the faerie ring. Once you get inside, we will have to activate it, and that will get us through the veil.” He was explaining, but it didn’t make sense.

“The what? What are you saying?“ Your head was shaking and your hand instinctively went to your pocket again. The box was.. Vibrating?

He fully tuned to face you, heaving a sigh. “All right I will make this fast and lover boy can flesh out the details when everything is better okay? Let’s start here.” He waved around to indicate the area. “This is a portal. I protect the portal.” He points to the small grassy patch that while untouched with light, is brighter than the rest of the forest floor. It is a perfect circle lined with flowers of exotic beauty and the air around it shimmers a bit in the dim lighting. “Your lover boy and I are both fae. I don’t need to explain that do I?”

“Ah. Maybe? I don’t know. Magic is real?” You squinted in confusion but his face fell to full deadpan in response.

“Soulmates are basically magic, but fae are a stretch? Don’t be silly. Just like. Ground rules. Don’t give anyone your full name. Fake name or partial name only, understood? Also We can’t lie but we are really good at deceiving with words so be careful. The rest is less important. Anyway. Your darling is in there-” He points back to the ring again. “And he is probably in trouble. He gave you something today right?”

You nod. “Well, he was going to but he got a call and left. Which you saw. He dropped it on his way out.” You fish the box out of your pocket. “It’s buzzing. Is this magic?”

I.M looked slightly envious for a moment, tongue darting out before he replied. “Yeah. Open it. Now. You’ll need it.”

“I wanted to ask him about it before I-” You began but when his eyes met yours, steely and serious, you decided to listen. Opening the box gently, you pulled a chord inside. It was silvery but a bit heavier than one would expect for how thin the chain was. It was a necklace of some kind, with a stone hanging from the end pendant style that seemed to be shining with inner light. It was almost opalescent, rainbows sparking inside. When it touched your skin you gasped, and electricity leapt through your body in arcs that should have left you stunned but instead left you gasping and awakened.

The air got even more shimmery, and when you looked at I.M he looked startled, his mouth fell open and he pointed at you while you slowly rolled your shoulders against the thrumming in your veins.

Slowly, your regained your normal footing, realizing things felt different, inside and out. You felt different.

“Sly.” I.M said with a giggle. “You are one of us. Or partially. Guess my favor is even better now.”

“I don’t.” You began before things began to shift and bend around you, almost as though you yourself had a bubble around you refracting light… “I.M, touch me.”

His eyebrows raised, but he did as you asked, lifting his hand only to have it forcefully blasted back as he reached your bubble. Sparks arched from the place he touched, sizzling as though it would burn him if he tried again.

“You absolute… This is great, turn it off so we can go and get him?”

You nodded, concentrating on bringing the bubble in closer to your skin, then pressing itself back into the gem. You didn’t know HOW you knew to, but you knew it was the thing to do.

As you stepped inside the fairy ring, reality itself seemed to shift. You closed your eyes and when you opened them, you were in a forest much thicker, much more foriegn.

The wildlife was exotic, and shimmers danced into your vision.

Flashes of silk and skin kept playing in your head. Ki.. His name bounced on and off the tip of your tongue in the most irritating fashion. But you knew how he tasted, how he felt flush against you. How his lips felt pressed against the crown of your head. You knew he brought you flowers.

You knew he was yours.

But it wasn’t time to revel in memories, so you turned to I.M who was still regarding you carefully. “By now, they’ll have him cornered. Come on.”

You nodded and followed but still called out to ask him who has him and why.

“Usurpers. Your sweetheart is the 1st prince of the Seelie court, and word got out about you. You being human and all. It caused the already more tricky members of court to stage a coup. That’s where we come in. “ He waggled his eyebrows and it occurred to you that he genuinely was a good person, if a little feisty. You liked him more each moment.

“And how do YOU know about this plot?”

His smile was jagged at its edges as he cut through a passage and lead you further along. “Oh. I know people, you know?”

You didn’t know, but there wasn’t time to dig into I.M’s world too deeply when you were still recovering memories as they slid into place on their own.

Laughter in sheets and silvery moonlight, nicknames and promises. Years of it, years of being his without knowing.

You two kept mostly quiet as you slid through the tunnels. The air felt colder, but not quite damp, still, some pressure on your skin akin to humidity, but with more life set you on edge.

I.M motioned for you to come close, and pointed out into the opening ahead.

There was a ring of creatures, shades of blues and purples some with wings and some without, all surrounding Ki-, the man, your man.

Your prince

You corrected. He didn’t look overly concerned, in fact, he almost seemed confident even surrounded as he was. You couldn’t make out the conversation but there were weapons pointed at him, and panic filled your gut.

“What can I do?”

“We’re cloaked best we can be. You’re going to have to get right in the middle of all of that and activate the gem. Do you think you can?”

His laughter soft and happy in your ear, breath bouncing off your skin sending shivers down your spine. The way his fingers traced the sides of your face. Your soulmate, yours all along.

You nodded with firm conviction. You would have to. “I can do whatever I need to.”

I.M smiled back at you, gave your hand a reassuring pat and pointed. “Then go get him.”

----

You sucked your breath in and held in on approach. You could hear your heart beating in your ears but you knew there wasn’t a choice. Thinking quickly, you pretended to fall, the noise drawing the attention of the entire group.

Kihyun looked up at you eyes widened, alarmed and upset. His head began to shake and mouth formed an “O”. The panic in his eyes made you feel guilty, but he didn’t know your plan.

“Who is that? Is that her?” A blue skinned creature that stood roughly 6ft tall asked with a graveled voice.

Kihyun’s eyes were steely and angry, he looked ready to make a move and you wished you could calm him. There were too many of them and they were heavily armed. You needed to goad them into getting you closer to him.

“Aren’t we lucky.Now they can watch each other die.” A smaller one with sharp jagged teeth said, chuckling.

“If you even-” Kihyun began before a harsh slap rang out and he fell to the ground. You lunged towards him without thinking, only to be stopped suddenly.

“Please. Let me see him.” You begged, you needed to be sure he was okay.

When a pale fae with purple hair and sharpened claws grabbed your arm you winced, he was dragging you to your feet and into the middle. “You’ll see him. You’ll see him bleed out.”

You were pushed towards where he was getting back to his feet, he stumbled but he caught you in his arms, trying to wrap his body around you and check you for injury.

Electricity traveled inside your veins immediately, and for a moment you were lost in memories, lost in dreams...

Silver moonlight in pink hair. Giggles and secrets and kisses. Hot skin on cool nights and promises made between glistening lips. The feather soft beat of his eyelashes against your cheek as he sings softly to you. The way your heartbeat syncs into his and drags you home. Home is him, and it’s all real. It’s a blur, but then it’s part of you, he’s part of you.

You see him, much younger, much more excited.

“You belong here as much as I do, this power is as much yours as it is mine. You are one of us, even if it’s just a little bit.” His scrunched nose makes you weak with happiness and you feel the air sparkle with your combined magick. That little bit in your veins is enough to feel the words he says are true.

“So I really won’t remember you in the morning? We only just met!” You want to stay in this place with him.

“You won’t. Because I am not human, and neither are you. Or at least not all of the way. We’ll make it work, I’ll find my way to you.”

When you opened your eyes again, Kihyun was panicking, saying something to you, but your ears were still ringing. You smiled reassuringly and touched his face, cupping his cheek with one hand as you squeezed tight to the necklace in your pocket with the other, and the shimmering light enveloped you both.

He was smiling, then, and holding onto you as the fae outside began trying to attack, only to be bounced back by the shield that surrounded you.

“Hi,” you said to him, ignoring the ruckus, “It’s nice to see you again, Kihyun. My Kihyun. My soulmate.”

His eyes were watering and he was laughing, holding your face in both his hands as he realized you had returned to him. “It worked. It worked and you remember don’t you?” He peppered kisses across your forehead and cheeks, with giggles. “This is real! This is real and you’re mine.”

You didn’t think before you acted, only knew that he had to be closer to you. Gripping the back of his neck, you tugged his face closer to yours and tilted your head to press your lips to his. Softly, at first, and then firmly when he breathed into the kiss and tightened his hold, hands pressing into your lower back and pulling you up into him. You swear you had never felt so full and so alive at once, his lips the perfect blend of soft and harsh. This was the kind of kiss people wrote songs about, the kind of fairy tail nonsense that was fed to you as a child. But here, in his arms, there didn’t seem to be a single thing in the world more magical than the press of his lips desperate to know you as well in reality as they had in dreams.

You eventually pulled back, albeit unwillingly, your foreheads joined as you both caught your breath.

He glanced up, reluctant to look away but knowing the threat was still present. You followed his gaze when a huge smile lit his face.

“You didn’t have to wait so long to help out, but you always did have a flair for the dramatic.” He’s speaking to a smaller man outside the bubble, silver hair and a sneaky smile. He’s handsome too, with round eyes that tilt up at the ends.

“We had a plan. You should trust us more.” He insists as I.M joins at his side, there’s others in hoods and robes also all around, apprehending the group

I.M looks slyer than ever, “You still owe me, highness.”

“I’m not-” you begin, only to be cut off by Byeongkwan who is smirking and Kihyun.

“You will be, pleasure to meet you, sister in law.” He winks at you and turns to make a hand sign at the group around him. “We’ll take care of this. You guys head back.”

You slowly let go of the jewel in your pocket, retracting the shimmering light. Kihyun refuses to let you go, clutching onto your hand and lacing your fingers.

You walk off knowing that things will be okay, that whatever is next, together you’d figure it out.

----------------------------------------------EPILOGUE----------------------------------

The sheets are silken. The bedside table is silver. The room has a skylight.

You smell life and flowers and Kihyun and the scent of your skin combined.

There’s no fog to usher you back into the day, there is nothing rushing you away from this dream.

You snuggle deeper into his hold, he murmurs in his sleep from you shifting, eyes fluttering open to regard you blearily.

“Hello Princess.” His voice is lower and thick with sleep, you’re nearly overwhelmed with love,the way your skin tingles and your breath quickens at his touch.

“Hello, Prince.” You respond as his lips brush yours lovingly, starting soft and deepening as you tightened your grip.

His fingers danced along the skin of your collar bone, drifting down your arms to stroke your skin lovingly. The heat between you was always present, but as he grunted into the kiss and rolled you onto your back, teeth glistening in the dark, you knew that this was going to be a longer night. And you had all night...

This time, you weren’t lost in a dream, you were lost in him, and that was perfectly alright....

#fae! kihyun #fae! kihyun oneshot #monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fic #kihyun x reader #yoo kihyun #i have been working on this for like over a month i am so sorry but i wanted to get it right why is it almost 10k I am shocked #this had me in my feels #monsta x fluff #monsta x x reader #yoo kihyun x reader #yoo kihyun x you

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