#she has a thirst for blood and the means to quench it
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just try and take it from her
(very real photograph taken by @realpokemon)
#she has a thirst for blood and the means to quench it#pkmn irl#pokemon irl#pokeblogging#flittle#verona the flittle
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Echoes of love
"to love someone is firstly to confess : i am prepared to be devastated by you."
Chapter i. to forget
genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.
pairing : minho x reader.
summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.
cw : depiction of a car accident. mention of blood and physical wounds. depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. reader has she/her pronouns.
word count : 14.8k words.
song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me.
a.n: she's here, she's yours, i hope you'll enjoy reading one of the most challenging things I've ever wrote :') your feedback is highly appreciated <3
special thanks to @forlix for going through this journey with me, i love you thank you, seriously, you mean the world to me. and to @dorisnumber1fan for listening to my initial rants about this fic, and all the ones i ever write. i love you and appreciate you so much, more than i could explain <3
quotes series masterlist. next chapter.
Day 1.
You're floating in a dark void, save for the specks of light swirling around you. A peculiar serenity fills your being, a tranquility unlike any you’ve ever known. It’s as though your body isn’t your own; but rather an otherworldly vessel, calmly traversing the cosmos, dancing in constellations with the stars that encircle you.
A sudden electrifying warmth surges from your hand, traveling down the contours of your knuckles, melting into the lines of your palm. It pulsates within your being as if you’re holding the Earth's very core between your fingers. You stir from your ethereal orbit, longing to break apart from the celestial lights, to reunite with your body once again.
The warmth intensifies, causing your fingers to involuntarily clench. A deluge of radiance enfolds you, drawing you into a luminous hole. You squint your eyes, drinking in the light- your first breath.
Your eyes flutter open in a daze, your throat parched, rasping like sandpaper against your vocal cords. White encompasses you yet again, from the high ceilings to the pristine bed you’re lying on. It takes you a few blinks to grasp your new environment- an unfamiliar hospital room. You wearily close your eyes, hoping for the stillness to return, aching for the peace you felt within your bones mere moments ago.
But to no avail; only the tingling sensation remains.
You tilt your head, eyebrows shooting upwards as you notice a hand clasping yours. A figure lies their forehead beside your body, black disheveled locks tickling your palm.
The warmth, you understand where it comes from now.
You attempt to slip your hand out of theirs, prompting the man to awaken with a jolt, surprise dancing across his features as his gaze meets yours. Dark circles adorn his face- testimonies to days of fatigue imprinted upon every feature of his. Yet, all of it dissipates as he gazes at you, lips slightly parted, bunny teeth peeking out. His face transforms into a radiant smile, stirring a mysterious longing within your soul- it brushes against your fingertips before slipping beyond your reach.
"You're awake," he whispers in awe, and your tiredness renders you mute. You point to your throat, hoping that he'll understand what you need. "Water? Is- Is that what you want?" he asks, a touch too eager, fingers running through his hair in sheer disbelief. You nod and he rises swiftly, pouring you a glass of water and bringing it to your lips.
You sip diligently as his hand caresses the crown of your hair, the warmth now traveling to the top of your head. You feel lightheaded as if the blood in your veins has thickened, the very life in you slowed to a faint whisper. Yet, a timid relief emerges as your thirst is finally quenched.
"I'll- I'll go call the doctor," he tells you, his beaming smile unwavering. It’s too bright, everything around you is, and you feel a throbbing headache growing at your temple’s base.
It's a mere minute before the man returns, a doctor and two nurses on his trail. You float within a haze as the nurse shines a beam of light in your eyes. The response of your pupils seems to please her.
"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor inquires and you frown. You've been racking your brain for an explanation as to why you're here, but to no avail. You shake your head.
"What's your name," he proceeds, lips growing into a thin line.
"Y/n, Y/l/n," you respond, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, as though it hasn’t left the confines of your throat for ages. You miss the darkness; you want to sleep again.
"What date are we?"
Your eyebrows knit together as you try to think of an answer. "The 20th or maybe the 21st September."
"What year?"
"2022."
An eerie silence falls upon the room, a stillness resembling the one of your dreams; but it isn’t comforting, on the contrary, it fills your being with an unsettling dread, one that trickles inside you with each second spent in silence. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. You close your eyes to avoid the sorry ones of the nurse.
"We need to run you an MRI scan," the doctor finally speaks up, tone somber. "It appears you're suffering from retrograde amnesia. But we have to make sure."
It takes time for the words to permeate your consciousness, for the syllables to settle in and start to make sense. Amnesia.
What have you forgotten?
“What…” you chuckle warily, fingers reaching up to soothe your throbbing forehead. “What year is it?”
"It's the 24th of September 2023. You were in a severe car accident two days ago, a drunk truck driver rammed into your car on your way home. You have a fractured rib and extensive leg injury, but no broken bones thankfully. We'll get you to the scan shortly, okay?" he speaks easily as if announcing that you've missed the rain while asleep. As if it’s not a year’s worth of memories you’ve seemingly forgotten, erased in the span of a blink, akin to footprints on sand washed away by the waves. Nothing of importance.
"So, you don't... remember me?" a soft voice quivers, barely above a whisper, and your eyes meet those of the man who’s been at your side, temporarily forgotten in the conversation.
His question is laced with a grave fear, evident in his dilated pupils and trembling hands. A lump blooms in your throat, its thorns pricking at your voice. You aren’t sure you want to answer that question.
"I- I don't."
"Oh."
You’ve never known that a human could crumble in silence, in an imperceptible gasp, so small you almost did not hear it. A crestfallen expression materializes on his face in the span of a heartbeat, features coming together in the rawest expression of anguish you’ve ever seen. You bite your lip.
"Who- Who are you?" you implore, urgency inflecting your tone, hoping that he's no one of importance. Someone who helped you when you got into a car accident. Someone minor who you wouldn't fault your brain for forgetting.
"I was... I-I am your boyfriend. Minho," he utters his name like a broken plea, eyes slightly widening to gauge your reaction. As though those two syllables hold within them a myriad of memories, ones you simply cannot forget.
You don't remember.
The doctor was right in his diagnosis. The scan showed unusual activity within your brain, characteristic of post-traumatic amnesia. You listened numbly as he cited the precautions you should take to heal your physical wounds- to rest, not carry anything heavy, ice your lungs, and go on walks. But you did not care for the state of your body, you’ve bruised it before and it has healed in its own time. It will do it again; it is a familiar path you’ve already undergone. But what about your memory? Your mind that robbed you of a year of your life? How do you get it back?
“There is no guarantee you’d remember. There is also no treatment for amnesia. We advise that you focus on healing first. Do not strain your mind,” your doctor smiled, before leaving the room. His silver wedding band shined mockingly underneath your eye. He doesn’t know what it’s like to forget the lover awaiting you at home.
Minho dutifully sat by your side, nodding along to the doctor’s words. He signed your discharge papers and settled your bills before you could protest, and he was now pushing your wheelchair through the hospital's corridors. You didn’t know what to say to him- how do you talk to a stranger who uttered your name with love dripping between its letters?
In the hospital’s parking lot, Minho pauses, squatting before you. His eyes are puffy, red veins contrasting against the pristine whites, betraying the tears he must have shed when he excused himself to the toilet.
You suddenly want to beg for a reprieve; it is too much pain for one day, too much for one soul to bear. But it is only six p.m. and Minho's gaze holds you captive, a new emotion dancing in his brown irises- grief. He's looking at you as though you're a phantom, gone when you are still very much breathing.
“We've been together for eleven months, and we moved in together two months ago,” he licks his lips nervously. “You have a two-month medical leave, and I- I don’t want to leave you alone, while you recover. So, you can think of us as… as roommates.” The word felt heavy on his tongue, a fresh wave of tears brimming in his waterline. He swiftly blinks them away.
Your parents are in a faraway city, so is your best friend. You were the one who decided to move somewhere so far, to flee from the skeletons threatening to spill out of your closet. You don't want to burden anyone. You just want to rest.
You nod in agreement and Minho attempts to smile. It is a useless effort; one he quickly gives up. There was nothing to be joyous about.
Minho takes your hand, gently helping you to your feet. He opens the door to his car, and you settle into the passenger seat. It smells pleasant, an apple-scented diffuser dangling from the rearview mirror. Yet, as Minho closes the door, the scent suddenly suffocates you. Your lungs ignite, consuming your oxygen to douse their rising flames. You can no longer breathe inside, panic rippling in your heart violently, pushing at your ribs, begging for an escape. You open the door, collapsing to your knees as a violent coughing fit overtakes you. You blindly clutch at Minho’s arm and he tumbles to the ground with you.
The ugly sob that had been trapped within your throat finally escapes, and passersby pay you no mind. It must be usual to hear gut-wrenching cries in a hospital parking lot. But Minho seems to care, as his hands soothingly rub your back, undergoing a steadfast path from the nape of your neck down the base of your spine. He’s not panicking and his touch appears to instinctively know how to speak to your sadness, how to soothe your sorrow with unheard words.
You imagine it's not his first time comforting you, and the thought only forces another sob from the depths of your soul, as Minho pulls you up once again. He sits your shaky figure on the wheelchair, closing the car doors.
“We can walk,” he tells you gently, and despite the quietness of his voice, it manages to break through your raging storm. A singular sun ray parting the gloomy clouds.
“It’s okay, I’ll... I’ll suck it up”
"You've been through a terrible car accident, and I won't let you sit here and panic, especially when your wounds are still fresh and your mind is trying to protect you."
His tone is resolute, eyes blazing with determination as he looks at you. You can only nod in response. So, Minho pushes your wheelchair to his house. He doesn’t huff, nor complain about the autumn sun scorching his skin, the effort to push you for the entirety of the road, and then inside his building. He only smiles when his eyes meet yours in the elevator mirror.
He’s tentative as he opens the door to his apartment, hand tightly gripping the keys before turning them, as if preparing himself for a bigger heartbreak, one that lies within what was once his sanctuary- yours too, you suppose.
Minho pushes you inside, pausing near the entrance as your eyes drink in the interior. He seems to await something, perhaps for you to remember the place you’ve called home for the past months. A few seconds pass, and he clears his throat, holding your arm to guide you forward. He avoids your gaze as you both venture in.
“This is the kitchen,” he points to a small kitchenette, where a flower bouquet seems to have wilted, much like the man near you- his emotions now diluted, eyes dimmed as they glaze over the walls. You spot your favorite mug on the racks, one that resembles a fairy mushroom. The sight of it makes your heart clench in your chest. So, this is your home, after all.
You leave the kitchen and walk down a narrow hallway when you stumble on your feet. “Easy, honey,” Minho cautions, and your hold on his forearm falters. He blinks at you before gazing up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, force of habit.”
“It’s okay,” you reply in a small voice.
Minho leads you to the living room, cream-colored sofas with a navy blanket on top, multiple fuzzy pillows scattered all around. A tulip field painting graces the accent blue wall- your favorite flower, two matching slippers rest by the couch, racks of your novels adjacent to his collection of cookbooks, you assume.
It is all the more evident to you that you’ve both lived here, lives intertwining so seamlessly into one another. The place radiates comfort and warmth, but it refuses to penetrate your being, as if you’re harboring a shield of oblivion, ricocheting off any touch of remembrance. You’re an intruder, standing in stark contrast to the inviting coziness that envelops you.
“I like that wall,” you say in an attempt to lighten the stuffy atmosphere.
“We painted it together,” Minho smiles sadly, and your remorse seems to liquify, blending in with the blood running through your veins.
From the corner of your eyes, you spot three furry masses bolting towards you, small paws clawing at your feet. You feel another dent add to your heart, so much you are sure it would blow away at the tiniest gust of wind. Just how much have you forgotten?
“We… We had cats?” you ask breathlessly, eyes widening as you take in the two orange felines, and the gray, much smaller one.
“These are mine, but you also adopted them, in a way,” he explains, crouching down to pet his cats, scratching the sensitive spot behind their ears. He is tender with them and they appear at ease in his presence. You realize you’ve felt the same since you’ve woken up.
“Hey, my babies,” he coos softly. “Mom- I mean y/n- is tired so let’s give her some space, okay?” he quickly corrects, before gently pushing the cats away from your feet.
Minho shows you the bathroom before leading you to the bedroom- it's a bit untidy, worn clothes thrown on the ground, some of your accessories tossed on top of the vanity. As if the room was also frozen in time, awaiting your return to resume its familiar course.
“You'll sleep here and I'll just take the couch,” Minho interrupts your thoughts as he gently sits you atop the bed.
"But-"
"I’ll make you dinner so you can take your medication, okay?” he ignores your objections, adjusting two pillows behind your back to help you sit up straight, just like the doctor cautioned. His necklace, adorned with your initial, brushes against your cheek. “Try to sleep meanwhile. You need to rest.”
“Minho this is too much-"
“It’s not. If you need anything just call me over, I’ll leave the door open,” he says, tucking you in beneath the blanket.
“I don’t want to burden you,” you finally admit, voice slightly raised so he’d finally listen.
“Y/n, I love you.” He speaks so suddenly, fists balled on either side of your body. “And this is what I do for the person I love. I… I don’t know how to not care for you, don’t take that away from me, please. Please,” he repeats, voice faltering under the weight of his plea.
"Okay," you concede.
You can't quite remember that first night, the morphine injected into your veins made you ebb and flow out of consciousness, only recollecting small fragments of the hours flowing by.
But you remember the dull pain settling into your bones, one you knew would accompany you for the following weeks. You remember the thoughts swirling in your mind like a tempest- your near brush with death, how she almost trapped you into her icy hold; the year of memories gone with the wind, as if they were never yours to begin with; and the stranger whose home you are in now, the very one who took care of you throughout the night.
And you can't perfectly recall it, but you swear Minho stayed by your side until the early hours of the morning, warm hand pressed to your forehead to check your temperature, cold tears falling on your arm as he laid his head next to your sleeping body.
Day 2.
You miss being asleep the second you wake up in.
Every fiber of your being aches, as though pain has latched itself into every muscle, its grip unrelenting now that the morphine's comforting veil has lifted. You drag a hand tiredly across your face, tears of frustration welling like dewdrops in your eyes. It's only 10 a.m. Far too early for one's spirit to crumble.
A bright post-it note on the bedside table catches your weary gaze. "I went to drop your medical leave at your work. I've made you breakfast it's in the kitchen. Don't forget to drink your medicine, I'll be home soon"
What home was Minho referring to, exactly? Because this one wasn’t yours, and neither was the one back in your hometown. Were you destined to be a passerby in temporary places, always lingering near the door, ready to put your shoes back on and leave at any moment?
10:03. Still too early.
You find solace in having two months off of your work. You couldn’t bear being somewhere where everybody knew you for months, while your memories of them span but mere weeks. The expectations they would have, the pressure to conform, to mirror the footsteps of your past self was an unbearable burden. What if she was better than you? Made better choices, spoke more eloquently? What if you couldn't live up to the image they had conjured? What if you couldn't face the repercussions of your past actions?
10:07. You need to shower.
You slowly ease yourself off the bed, careful not to put pressure on your injured leg, avoiding even the slightest exhalation. You pretend as if nothing’s happening as you pick up a pair of pajamas that you recognize from the closet – a familiar relic from the life you’ve always known.
It's a charade, you’re aware of it. You're but treading on fragile ice, your pain threatening to shatter the frozen façade beneath your feet, plunging you into the frigid truth at any given moment.
You walk into the shower, attempting to rinse the day's tiredness away. But moving your limbs is a strenuous task, and you can't reach over your head to wash your hair. You let out a dry chuckle as the water runs over your back, splattering across the white tiles.
Your heart swells in your chest, an uncomfortable weight pressing against your fractured ribs. Still, it beats, and you cling with all your might to this one silver lining.
Minho has made you pancakes, not the most nutritious meal but the only one you can stomach on your sick days. He's also brewed you tea, a singular sugar cube resting at the bottom of your cup, just the way you like it. Your grip on your fork tightens, knuckles paling. You wish he had put three sugar cubes, or that he made you anything but pancakes, something to reassure you that he didn’t know you so intimately. That your mind hasn’t stolen a love where every detail of you was known.
The door opens, keys clinking on a solid surface. The sound of it tugs at your heart ever so faintly, a distant bell ringing somewhere far- it quiets down before you even realize it is there.
“Good morning,” Minho greets, the corners of his mouth curving upward although his eyes remain downcast, redness tinging its outlines. You look down at your cup, unable to hold his wounded stare.
“Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast and for going to my work. I really appreciate it,” you say.
“It's nothing. Your coworkers wish you a speedy recovery.”
“Mm,” you murmur. “That's nice of them."
“Here,” he slides a phone across the table. “I bought you a new one since your phone’s screen was smashed in the car accident, but I took it to a repair shop. Maybe they’d manage to fix it.”
You go to protest when he shakes his head, silencing you. “Don’t say It’s too much.”
A surprised giggle escapes your lips at his accurate prediction, momentarily halting Minho in his tracks. You swallow the sound down as Minho clears his throat, dissipating your laughter into thin air. “I put my phone number there. Also, the ones of your family that I have. Always call me if you need anything, okay?” he pauses, locking your eyes with his. “Anything.”
“It's okay, I really don't want to bother you. You might be busy."
“I’ll still answer,” he quickly responds. “I’ll always answer you.”
There is a certain sincerity that coats Minho's words, one that softens the edges of his letters, making them easier to permeate your being, to sink into the seas of your soul.
“Minho,” you call out gently.
“Yes, hon- " He inhales deeply, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Yes, Yn?”
“Thank you, for everything.”
“Of course.”
The ensuing hours blur into a hazy dance, in which you’re only awakened by Minho’s warm hand on your shoulder, as he brings you lunch, then dinner to your room, paired with the medicine you need to take. He doesn’t talk to you, only carrying out the tray outside when he deems you asleep- as if tiptoeing near your existence, afraid he’d slip into you again, knowing you won’t be there to catch him.
It's nearly midnight when you leave your room to use the bathroom. You pause near the door when you spot Minho petting his cats. You don’t even know their names, you haven’t dared to ask, still foolishly holding on to the hopes that this is but a horrible nightmare, one clawing at your tender skin even after you rose.
“You’re sad, aren’t you?” he coos softly, and the cats respond with plaintive mewls as if understanding his words. “Mm. I’m really sad too,” his voice is barely above a whisper, as though it’s a confession he isn’t ready to speak out loud. The pain in your ribs intensifies.
“But it’s okay, she’ll remember us. We are her family, she can’t forget us forever, right?” your breathing hitches. “Right,” he adds softly, as if to reassure himself; to inflate hope in a heart deserted by you.
Day 3.
Minho threw away the wilted flowers, leaving the vase bare at the center of the kitchen table.
You almost wish he hadn't- those lifeless blooms were the sole reflection of your faded spirit within this home. Now everything in the house seemed alive, grand windows ushering in daylight to cascade upon the living space, causing the ivory walls to glisten. Everything, except for you and Minho, two ghosts skirting along the existence of one another.
There is, was, love imprinted in this house. You could sense it though you couldn’t feel it anymore. By the two cat mugs that connect through their tails, your products intermingling with Minho's in the bathroom sink, the notes you found hung on the fridge- some with his handwriting, most with yours, reminding Minho how much you loved him.
Where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air, gone as if it had never existed? Has it turned into something else, lurking beneath the surface of your skin, waiting for you to remember?
You can’t find the answers, and as Minho finishes up his breakfast, you find yourself longing to ask him about the past year. Who you were and what you’ve lived. But you know it’ll feel like salt on a wound, akin to bringing a mirror before his face, reminding him of all that's been lost.
So instead, you offer to wash the dishes. He refuses, not that you expected anything else given his attentiveness to you.
“It’s only two plates and two cups, I can do it,” you insist, but he just stares blankly at you, before motioning to your ribs, and your swollen ankle. “It’ll be quick, please. I-I want to do it.”
“Fine,” he concedes, gaze softening. “But if you feel pain you'll stop.”
“Okay,” you smile tentatively, eager for the sense of normalcy that this mundane act would bring. You haven't forgotten how to wash a cup, at least.
Five minutes pass, and you suddenly freeze, plates drying in your hands. You have no idea where the dishes go.
This was your home, yet you can't even remember which cupboard holds the plates.
Silent tears flow down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily. You clutch the plate in your hands so tightly you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. You selfishly wish it did- you were tired of being the sole broken entity in this house.
A small whimper escapes your lips, startling Minho who was mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He rushes to your side, brows furrowed, concern woven into his face.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?” he questions; eyes raking through your figure anxiously.
You shake your head as your tears double over. You can feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort, for a missing piece that was snatched from you, the void it left behind pulsating achingly within your being.
“I-I don’t know where the dishes go, and yesterday I tried to w-wash my hair and I c-couldn’t do it,” you admit through hiccups, plate still in your hands. Minho gently takes it from your tight hold, and your pinky brushes against his palm. He flexes his hand at the touch.
“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I should've shown you,” his voice is gentle, reminding you of how one soothes a child during a tantrum. You're embarrassing yourself but you can't find it in you to care.
“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t p-put them back in their place,” you choke out, head turned down, tears ricocheting off sage tiles. You’ve always wanted a green kitchen. You’ve gotten it and you can’t remember.
“It’s okay, I’ll put them back. Shh, yn, please don’t cry.” He’s slightly panicking, hands tightly fisted near his body as if he’s afraid they’d act on their own accord, reaching out to touch you the way they’ve done the past few months. He sighs softly before taking a cautious step toward you.
“I’ll wash your hair for you,” he offers, smiling tenderly at you, knuckles brushing ever so gently against your cheeks. “Hm? You can sit in front of the sink and I’ll wash it.”
“You’d do it?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
There is a softness that emanates from every atom of Minho, flowing from his fingertips, molding everything he touches. You were sure of it as he stood beside you, pouring shampoo over your hair with you sitting on a stool, head tilted back to the sink, your favorite song playing in the background. As he dried your hair with a warm towel, and then settled behind you on the bed, gently lathering your hair with your familiar serum, brushing your strands with care, avoiding any tugs that might pain you.
Everything Minho does is not to hurt you.
You went to sleep with the ghost of his fingers lingering on your scalp, his warm breath still caressing the back of your neck. You found slumber came much easier to you that night. You account it to your hair finally being clean.
Day 4.
“Yn?” Minho calls out gently, his head peering through the bedroom door. “Should we go on a walk? Just around the block, the doctor said it’d be good.”
“Sure,” you nod, glancing at the bedside clock. 9:43 p.m. it reads.
“Dress warmly, it’s cold outside,” he advises softly before leaving.
A few minutes later, you're clad in a gray university hoodie that drapes slightly past your thighs and a pair of matching sweatpants. Minho halts in his tracks upon seeing you, his eyes racking furiously over your figure. He shakes his head, swallowing a growing lump of despair.
“Wait here,” he whispers, vanishing into his room, leaving you fidgeting in place. An orange cat sidles up to your feet and you slowly bend down to scratch its ears. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” you smile sadly and he purrs in response, as if forgiving you for forgetting.
You wished you could forgive yourself too, one day.
Minho comes back, a red scarf in his hands. He steps forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. With attentive care, he wraps the scarf around your neck, securing it in place. His brows furrow as he loops the fabric through and you release a small, shaky exhale.
There is a fog dissipating before your eyes, a misty veil lifted off your irises. In the four days you've known Minho, you always willed yourself to not look at him for too long, afraid of the pain you'd discern brewing over his figure, the shadows cast across his face.
But now, he stands so near that you cannot help but look at him. Wispy black bangs fall on top of his forehead, framing his rich honey eyes. His long eyelashes flutter with each blink, pupils dilated like a constellation-laden night sky. The smooth bridge of his high nose, dotted with the smallest mole; a well-defined cupid's bow outlining rosy, plump lips. He’s beautiful, even in his sadness; with sunken cheekbones and darkened eye circles, the hunch of his back, and the shake in his hands as he gently frees your hair from underneath the scarf.
Was it wrong of you to find beauty in his pain?
His gaze softens when it finally meets yours, his hand still holding your scarf tightly, as if it's a lifeline tethering him to you, one with which he verifies your existence, suddenly so elusive now that it no longer entwines with his.
It must be strange, surely, to grieve the loss of someone who’s still alive, breathing in the room next to yours.
Minho smiles at you, his fingers hovering above your head, as though he wished to smooth down your hair. He retracts his hand back, burying it deep inside the pocket of his black sweatpants, physically trapping it, stopping it from reaching it out to you once again.
You’ve noticed his reticence to touch you, even when he wakes you in the morning to drink your medicine. His hand never fully rests upon your shoulder, it is only his fingertips that delicately graze your skin. It's as though he’s convinced you're but a figment of his imagination, and he fears that once he touches you, his hand will pass right through your body, shattering the illusion he foolishly held onto.
You blink and Minho’s already three steps away, grabbing his keys and opening the door.
Despite cautioning you against the cold, Minho doesn't say no when you ask for ice cream, paying for it before you can reach the counter. It's an unfamiliar brand, one that he advised you to try, and you don't regret following his choice. It’s a sweet mixture of vanilla and caramelized almonds, coated in rich milk chocolate- you can't stop the happy smile that graces your lips upon tasting it.
You glance at Minho to find an unprecedented softness coloring his expression, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. It isn't a smile directed at you, but rather an uncontrollable display of his feelings, splashing across his face like paint on a canvas.
You expect him to swallow this mark of affection down, to conceal it with a placid expression, but he doesn't. He only tilts his chin forward, gesturing to the ice cream.
"Do you like it?"
You hum in agreement, a grin stretching wider on your lips. "I do."
"You did too, back then, when I showed it to you," he says, almost casually, as if referring to a childhood memory that turned out to be more important to him than to you.
"You have good taste," you reply, scrunching your nose playfully at him. The smile slips away from his face, his voice somber when he speaks again. "I really do, don't I?"
Walking with Minho isn't as awkward as you had imagined it might be. He shows you the neighborhood- the nearby playground, the hidden flower shop tucked away in a corner and you make a mental note to visit it later. You point at closed shops inquiring about them- he answers each of your questions diligently.
Your accident is never brought up, and you both tiptoe around the topic, skirting the edge of a dark forest where the light no longer seeps through and dark vines cover the sun.
You both refuse to venture into the unknown.
"Just down the road, there is a bookstore. They have really great deals and I bought most-" Shouts erupt from somewhere nearby, loud slurred voices of two men under the influence. Your hand instinctively wraps around Minho's forearm, while his hand moves in front of your body, acting as a shield.
You freeze, letting out a shaky breath. "I- I hate yelling."
"I know," he responds simply, lowering his hand.
He knows you- it is a comforting thought, to realize that you exist beyond the confines of your own mind.
Day 5.
Minho’s staring blankly at his phone, your conversation shining dimly before his eyes. You’ve just sent him a text reassuring him that you indeed took your medicine since he wasn’t home today with you- his three days off work passing by in the blink of an eye.
In his mind, the past week felt like a mirage, a nightmare woven with intricate threads of his deepest fears- losing you, never getting to see the glimmer in your eyes again, and then looking at it and realizing it is no longer directed at him.
He exhales softly, tucking his phone into the pocket of his navy trousers. The salty breeze from the nearby lake grazes his senses, and he closes his eyes, yearning for a fleeting respite.
He purposely avoids watching the sun's descent into the water, which paints the sky in hues of yellow and orange. He no longer finds the sunset unfolding before him captivating, or any other scenery, for that matter, even those he once deemed beautiful. The world, in his eyes, has become lackluster and devoid of vibrancy, overshadowed by a profound sadness he never fathomed would reside in his heart.
He still doesn’t know how he managed to remain strong until now, tending to you, holding your gaze, and breathing near you when you don’t even remember him.
You’ve survived, he reminds himself, you were lucky enough to be able to draw these breaths. The thought of any other outcome sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine. You’re alive and you’ll be home, he clings to this truth as he starts making his way back to his apartment.
For how long will this knowledge offer him solace? How long will it push him to face a new day? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he wants to.
It is much deeper into the night, the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. Minho has given up on slumber since the day of your accident. He was used to the feel of your fingers playing with his hair, your goodnight kisses planted on his forehead, then his on yours.
He doesn't know how to sleep without burying his head in your neck, your chest, your stomach, wherever he saw fit that day. And he was used to your warmth- the warmth of your body as he pressed it tightly to his, the warmth of your love as you whispered goodnight to him. And the living room feels immensely cold in your absence.
He fixates his gaze on the ceiling, resolute in his effort to avoid scanning the room. Since every corner he dares to inspect serves as a poignant reminder of the life you both once shared, a life whose echoes still reverberate in the air around him. The sound of your laughter, the memory of your annoyed whines when he teased you a bit too fervently. Vivid recollections unfold before his eyes- your tender kisses exchanged under the fridge's light, warm hugs by the front door after a particularly long day, none of you willing to let go first.
He remembers your delighted giggles the first time you entered the house. It was still unfurnished, save for a floatable mattress and two empty cups of ramen beside it. But you were happy, immensely so, and your joy seemed to fill every room, painting it with shades of your love. Now the house feels empty- you're here and yet you aren't, and he is still on the sidewalk where he received that fateful call from your hospital.
The moonlight filters through the window, and Minho looks at the light without truly seeing it. It's as if darkness surrounds him entirely- a bottomless sky where the stars of your affection have fizzled out, so suddenly, leaving him alone to wander blind. He can't help but feel guilty- had he not given you a love worth remembering?
Minho sighs loudly once again, trying to coax the reluctant breaths to escape his body. He pulls himself to his feet to check on you, knowing that you had to sleep upright for the first few days so your ribs would heal properly, which is why he often found himself readjusting your body at night.
He peeks through the door, the light from the hallway casting an ethereal glow on your body. He frowns when he notices you fidgeting in your sleep, eyebrows knitted together. A soft gasp escapes your lips and Minho hurries to your side. He's witnessed your nightmares before and he knows that this one must be particularly terrifying to elicit such startled sounds from you.
“Y/n,” Minho coaxes gently, but you don’t respond. He presses his palm to your shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Y/n, wake up.” You writhe in your place, fear evident in your features, and Minho grabs both your shoulders, growing more urgent in his attempts to wake you. “Y/n, come on wake up!” he speaks louder, and you startle awake, pushing his arms away.
“I’m... Where am I?” you ask frantically, hand running through your hair. A sharp pain seems to surge through your ribs as you clutch your chest, slightly doubling over.
“Take it easy, Y/n. Deep breaths,” he wills gently and you raise your head, meeting his eyes. Recognition shines in them, but not love, not anymore. He never knew affection could alter someone’s gaze this much.
“Minho… I- I remember,” you gasp, tears trailing down your face at an alarming rate. He freezes in place, tongue thickening in his mouth, unable to move it.
“What... what do you remember?” he asks carefully, sitting on the edge of your bed.
“The accident. I remember driving and I… I was going in my lane, I- I didn’t… I wasn’t driving fast, but a truck came out of nowhere and its lights blinded me, and then… it rammed into the passenger seat side of the car and-" Your hands shake as you bring them to your face. “The blood, there was so much blood coming out of me, that’s- that’s the last thing I remember, it was in my hands and my arms and-" You’re wiping frantically at your skin as if erasing remnants of the red liquid only you can see. “I bled so much but I was… I- I don’t-"
“Can I hold your hands?” Minho cuts you off, needing the panic to dissipate from your being.
“Please,” you stutter, and he promptly grabs your hands in his warm ones, intertwining your fingers together, rubbing his thumb soothingly across your palm.
“You are safe now. You are alive and you are breathing and you are safe.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong, I drove safely, why… why was I hit?” you ask in a small, broken voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of the world. Minho swallows his own tears, throwing them down the pits of his pain. The one thing he wished you’d never remember was your accident, the sight of your unconscious body for those three days nearly driving him insane.
“He was drunk. And he’s in jail now. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t have prevented it."
You remain silent, gaze lost on the wall. “Hm? It wasn’t your fault, right?" he presses, squeezing your hand lightly.
“Yeah.” You sigh, unconvinced. Minho reluctantly drops your hand to pour you a glass of water, and you diligently drink it, before curling around yourself in a ball.
“No, you can’t sit like this,” he gently reprimands and you pout.
"My heart hurts. The pressure helps."
“I know it does,” he smiles in understanding, “but we have to make sure your ribs won’t hurt more, alright?” he explains as he pulls you upright, tucking pillows beneath your arms. He grabs a hoodie from the closet and rolls it into a ball, placing it gently on your chest.
“Here, you can hug this instead.” You giggle quietly at the makeshift plushie, but your laughter suddenly morphs into fresh tears, catching him off-guard.
“I’m so tired, Minho. And I’m so frustrated and mad and sad. Is it possible to f-feel all these things at once?" You hiccup, burying your face into his hoodie, soaking it in tears.
“It is,” he hums gently, “Do you think it’d help if you talked to a therapist?” He feels you tense up beneath the comforter. “Only if you want to, on your own terms.”
“I’ll think about it,” you whisper.
“Of course,” he says. “Try to sleep again, mm?”
“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle quietly, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your cardigan. “Do you have work tomorrow?” you ask.
“I do.”
“What do you work as?”
“Computer programming. I’m also a dance teacher on the side,” he adds quietly, feeling a bit vulnerable at revealing this bit about himself again.
“How do you manage both?” you ask in awe and he shrugs.
“My IT job leaves me a lot of free time. And I’ve always loved dance, so it doesn’t really feel like a job, you know?”
“Mm, you must work very hard at it. That’s why your body’s so toned,” you say almost absentmindedly, as Minho lets out a surprised chuckle at your words.
“You think my body is toned?”
“I mean- I didn’t ogle you I just… you know, you wear these fitted shirts it’s hard not to notice your muscles and-"
"You are sick and yet you’re staring at my body?” he tsks. “I feel used.”
“Hey,” you hit him with the hoodie he gave you. “Forget I said anything,” you pout.
“It’s okay, I work very hard for these, thank you very much,” he flexes slightly, and genuine laughter bubbles up from you both. This might be the one thing he misses the most.
You both quiet down, silence filling the room once again, but it isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable, almost as if you're the same person he's always known.
“What’s your favorite color?” you suddenly ask.
“Purple.”
“Did my favorite color change over this past year?”
“No,” he chuckles, “it’s still that obnoxious orange.”
“It’s not obnoxious, it’s peculiar.”
“it’s weird and it hurts my poor eyes,” he whines, covering his face as if wounded by the mere thought of it.
“Hey, what if it can hear us and now you just hurt its feelings?”
“Colors have feelings now?” he asks, amused.
“Everything has feelings,” you nod matter-of-factly.
“Okay then think of the feelings of this bed we are both squishing with our weights.”
“Don’t say that. Now I’m sad for it,” you pat the comforter gently, a slight pout tugging at your lips.
“I think you should sleep,” he smiles and you fake a gasp. “Is my convo boring you?”
“Yes. Now sleep, Yn,” he brings the comforter up your body, sliding away from the bed. “You’ll be okay, right?”
“Can you… can you sleep here too? I saw the inflatable mattress in the storage room. If that’s not… too much to ask for.”
"Of course not. I'll be back."
"Thank you, Minho" you smile, lower lip slightly quivering. "Thank you for not being mad at me."
Just how many cracks can one heart bear before breaking beyond repair? Minho thinks he's close to finding out.
Day 6.
The lights of your dreams have returned, but they are no longer comforting, nor warm, they glare harshly, searing your eyes as they announce your impending doom. Each second draws out in slow-motion and you find yourself counting the breaths you inhale, fearing they may be your last. One in, one out, one in, one out. The moment you dreaded unfolds- the truck collides with your car, flipping it upside down.
However, this time, flames rage within. You know that your car wasn't burned, but they feel terrifyingly tangible as they latch onto your skin. The heat becomes unbearable, you are no longer sure that this is just a mere dream. You try to scream but smokey air fills your lungs instead, robbing you of your ability to speak.
You need to wake up. You need someone to rouse you from this nightmare. Minho. You try to utter his name, but it escapes your lips in a strangled whisper. The lights won.
A cool hand clasps your own, yanking you from the fiery dream, dissolving it like sugar in a hot cup of tea. You startle awake to find Minho hovering over you, brows knitted in concern, his hand tenderly cradling yours.
“Are you okay? Another bad dream?” he inquires and you sigh in response, nodding as your head falls back onto the pillow.
He brushes your hair back, some damp strands still clinging to your sweaty forehead. "You screamed my name. Was I in your nightmare?” he ventures carefully, afraid he was one of the sources of your fear.
“No, I… I thought of you, in my dream,” you reassure, although your words seem to have the opposing effect, making Minho pause in his tracks. You’ve noticed his habit of freezing around you as if needing time to process what you just said. You wonder if you’ve ever came to learn the meaning behind each of his silences, what his blinks convey in ways his tongue fails to.
“You are heating up,” he clears his throat, pressing his hand against your forehead. “Do you wanna shower? I’ll make you tea meanwhile.”
“Okay, yeah. I’d like that,” you nod, glancing at your phone- 3.47 a.m.
Twenty minutes later, you find Minho sitting on the inflatable bed, legs crossed, two steaming mugs of tea before him. He appears drowsy, eyes shutting and reopening as if fending off slumber. It’s almost an endearing sight- the way his bangs fall before his eyes, obstructing his vision, the sleeves of his pullover dangling over his hands, hiding them from your view. He brought the mattress without you asking him to. The attention brings a smile to your face.
“Hi,” you greet softly and Minho looks up, a tender smile on his face. “Hey. Here is your tea.”
“Thank you,” you beam at him, settling on the edge of your bed, legs crisscrossed to mirror his. “I’m sorry that I woke you up.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep, just resting my eyes.”
“Isn't that what sleep is?” you snort and he chuckles, shaking his head.
“I was still conscious, you know. I can’t really sleep these days.”
“Is the couch uncomfortable?” you ask, worried, fidgeting with your lower lip.
“It’s not the couch,” he says as his eyes lock on yours, a stare so intense it forces you to look down at your cup. ‘it’s you’, you read in his gaze. You have no answer for that.
“What's your favorite food?” you suddenly wonder.
“Pudding.”
“But that’s dessert?”
“I really like the one you used to make me.”
“I cooked for you? and you liked it?” you giggle. “I’m not really good at it, usually.”
“I taught you some basic skills,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows proudly at you.
“Too bad your effort is now wasted.”
“It’s not a waste if it was done with love,” he pauses, licking his lips. “And I remember it.”
A bittersweet fog shrouds the air- he remembers that memory, but you don’t. Perhaps you will never bridge that gap, no matter how much you want to. The room in your heart may remain forever locked, the gateway to that chamber brimming with your stolen memories. Maybe you're condemned to merely stand before the closed door, straining to hear the echoes of the love that resonates behind, forever just out of reach.
You don’t fall asleep again that night. And as Minho’s quiet snores fill the room, you rummage your mind in search of a pudding recipe, hoping to retrieve the memory he spoke of so tenderly, shaky hands holding his mug tightly. Silent tears trail down your cheeks and you try your best to stifle the sound of your cries.
You want to make pudding. You want to make him pudding so badly.
Day 7.
It’s been a week since you woke up anew. Seven days adrift in a vast sea where waves of your memories lap at the shores of your mind, unable to breach the walls guarding your recollections of the past year.
Minho took you to the hospital for your weekly check-up. He sat by your side as the doctor reassured you that your ribs were healing relatively well, but you still needed time to recover, time for your body to mend, time for your memories to return. You loathed the waiting, the wasted days slipping through your fingers. You wanted a now.
But you kept all these thoughts to yourself, thanking the doctor as he exited the room.
Minho rented a bicycle to drive you around since the thought of being in a car made your anxiety spike. He installed a little seat for you, in that bright, obnoxious orange color you love very dearly. The sight of it nearly brought tears to your eyes this morning.
Minho idly pedaled around, choosing a scenic route, one he knew by heart from the looks of it. You closed your eyes, savoring the last sun rays of the year. Autumn was fading, winter clawing its way into the seasons slowly. You weren’t sure you could handle both the cold and the grief.
Miho took time off work for your doctor's appointment, and you both spent the day around one another, side by side on the couch, a new book in your hands, and an anime playing on the TV for Minho.
You could see him casting occasional, nervous glances in your direction, as you flipped the pages of the book. You didn’t understand why at first.
But then you did.
You only brought it up at night, when it was past 2 a.m. and you knew that Minho wasn’t sleeping either, the screen of his phone illuminating his face. He left the inflatable mattress in the room, no longer waiting for a nightmare to occur. You weren’t complaining. You desperately needed company.
“Minho,” you call out gently.
“Mm?”
“How did we meet?”
You can hear Minho suck in a deep breath at your question, before placing his phone down, the only light source in the room fizzling out. It made talking easier that way, when only your voices were heard, carried around, as if emitting from two entities that weren’t you both.
“We met… near your old apartment block. I was going to the kimbap place near yours, you remember that one, right?”
You hum in response.
“And I saw you crying, crouching near an injured cat. Some car had run over her leg, and she couldn’t walk anymore. And you didn’t know what to do, so I helped you. You insisted on coming with me to the vet where I take my cats. So, we caught a cab. And you were so worried, you didn’t stop crying, so the cab driver thought I did something to you,” he chuckles faintly.
“Then, the vet put a cast on her leg and reassured us that she’d be okay. And I told him I’d take her home and bring her for check-ups. But you were so worried, you begged me to send you updates about the cat. So, you gave me your number. And we talked.”
“What happened to the cat?”
“I took her to a rescue store I trusted since I couldn’t take her in. and we still visited her from time to time. And then, she found a good family.”
“And what happened to us?” you inquire softly, hoping that if your voice was quiet enough then your question wouldn't hurt Minho as much.
“We kept in touch," he said. "And it was… easy to talk to you, I felt as if I had known you for my entire life. When you found out I had three cats, we Facetimed a lot so you’d see them, but then we just kept on calling, every day, for nearly two weeks. Being with you felt natural, you know? I didn’t overthink it. I never did."
“And then three weeks later you came over to see Soonie, Dori, and Doongie. We ended up watching three movies in a row, and you were so tired you slept on my couch.”
“That’s embarrassing,” you chuckle.
"Yes," he laughs and you reach over to swat his shoulder playfully. "But it was also cute, and endearing. Then you came over a lot, and we just cooked together. Well, I cooked and you watched.”
“Right, that sounds more like me," you instantly agree.
“We hung outside too, whenever one of us had free time. We had a lot of common hobbies and interests so we never ran out of things to talk about. We made time for each other too.”
“How did we start dating?”
“You made the first move.”
“I did?” you shoot up from your place, hissing when the abrupt movement causes a twinge of pain in your ribs.
“Take it easy,” he giggles, as he illuminates your face with his flashlight. “You did.”
“Did you put a spell on me? I swore I’d never make a first move again after I was rejected in third grade. That was my most sacred oath."
“Well… you were ranting about this book. The one you were reading today,” he adds, and your excitement fizzles out, as the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. “You were sad because you had no one to talk to about it. So, I bought the book and read it. I gave you my copy, complete with highlighted passages and notes. And when I did… you kissed me, without warning,” his voice is softer now, as he fiddles with the tip of his blushing ears. "You said it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you.”
“It was. It is,” you whisper, heart caught in your throat. “I saw the photograph of us both lodged between the pages of the book. Did we take it that day?”
“Yes, we weren’t dating, not yet. Because I told you I wanted to take you out on a proper date. But you wanted us to take a picture holding the book… So you’d remember.”
“So I'd remember,” you repeat, voice quivering. What good was it for in the end?
“I looked so happy in the photograph,” you whisper, tears welling up your eyes. “I looked so happy with you,” your voice breaks as you utter that last part. "Did I love you, Minho?"
"You did," he nods softly, blinking away his own tears.
“And did you love me?”
“I did. I still do, very much.”
“Thank you, for loving me. It sounds like I’ve lived a happy year with you.”
Minho's pain is akin to a polite guest; it lingers by the corner, speaking in whispers, hardly ever raising its voice. You'd never really notice it, unless you strain your ears, as you're doing now. Only then would you discern the tremors of his quiet sobs- broken, stifled, determined not to make themselves known, only escaping his lips when he thinks you've fallen asleep.
Day 8.
Whenever an overwhelming emotion ran freely along the corridors of your soul, you'd often find yourself curled in a fetal position, knees drawn to your chest, like a fragile leaf.
Your teacher once explained that it reminds us of safer times in the wombs of our mothers, when the cruelty of life hasn’t yet reached us.
It is the way you’re resting now, upon the cold, hardwood floor, dozens of books surrounding you. You decided to go through each book in Minho’s library, the need to satiate your curiosity overtaking you. You didn’t know what you were looking for, exactly. Other photographs, surely, in the hopes that one of them would spark up your memory, ignite the flame of remembrance.
What you didn’t expect was to find Minho talking to you through books. Within the pages, amid the words, scribbled in small, dainty handwriting, threads of his thoughts all relating to you. Quotes he thought you’d appreciate, highlighted segments that reminded him of you. And dedications, so many dedicated lines you felt like you could drown in them. It felt as if Minho was on a quest to find love within every line, only to inscribe your name beside it.
Putting down the last book, you were left with a huge void, akin to a black hole eating away at your heart. So, you laid on the floor, one arm underneath your head, knees held tightly to your chest- as if trying to create borders for your sadness, to stop it from spilling out of your body, drowning the house in even more sorrow. Those four walls have had enough, more than they could contain. And so did you.
You suddenly longed for the very beginning of your life, when time was but a tranquil stream, when you were unaware of the hurtful years it would carve into your existence. Back to when your spine was still curled around itself; for it was never meant to be straightened. Your spine was never strong enough to bear your pain.
You wanted to talk to someone, but you didn’t know who you could turn to. You didn’t know how to articulate these emotions into words, tangible enough for someone to understand them. And you couldn’t talk to Minho about it, not when he was hurting on his own.
Because he smiled down at his cats, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. His laughter echoed around the room when he talked to his friends on the phone. And sometimes, he even hummed under his breath while making you breakfast. But this happiness never reached his eyes, behind his pupils the sadness seared itself into his veins, casting a gloomy shadow that followed him everywhere he went. It was a palpable ache, one that filled the very atmosphere with the metallic taste of grief. Making it almost impossible for you to breathe in. Even more so when you remember it was all your fault.
These are the thoughts that haunted you all day, as they have been doing for the past week. Minho must have noticed that you were feeling gloomier than usual, a silent storm raging by his side, since he put up a romcom for you. “It made you laugh a lot when you watched it months ago.”
“How do you remember all of these things about me?” you ponder, scratching the fragile skin near your nails, easily torn, just like you.
“Does it make you uncomfortable? Should I stop?” he asks quietly, deflecting your question.
“No,” you say the truth. “It'd be weird if you were an actual stranger, but… you knew me. And I knew you. and I still feel safe around you.”
He nods silently, but something in his gaze compels you to keep talking.
“I mean, I never felt uncomfortable around you these days, which surprised me too. I just… I suppose that even if my mind doesn’t remember, my heart does, in a way?”
“My heart will always remember you,” he whispers, gaze adrift in a faraway memory.
A gear shifts in your mind, a sudden light flooding your vision. You find yourself within a grand canopy bed, its pure white curtains swaying to the rhythm of a whimsical breeze, their delicate fabric brushing lightly against your cheek. It’s slightly cold from the wide-open windows, but then it’s warm, as a gentle hand finds its place on your thigh, kindling an ember deep within, setting your very soul ablaze.
The curtains sway with the wind, obscuring your view, but you can still discern the sound of your laughter, echoing like distant chimes. And a tenderness, so delicate it seemed almost otherworldly, trailing along your skin, as warmth caresses your cheek and gently traverses the curve of your collarbones, peppering it with the softest kisses. You can't quite behold it, but it is unmistakably there, an ineffable presence that threatens to burst your heart at the seams—a memory of your love for Minho.
It is a blurry sight, like peering into a worn-out photograph, its details softened by the sands of time. But you clutch to it- to your fading laughter and hushed conversation, and then your voice ringing clearly in your mind, the promise you made to Minho.
'My heart will always remember you'.
You startle back in a jolt; the light and warmth have extinguished. They are now dull, withered down, sitting next to you with their head hung low.
It takes you an inhumane effort to swallow down the lump in your throat.
Day 16.
This week has been particularly cold. Not temperature-wise, October has always harbored these same frigid temperatures and you've gotten used to them, to the relentless winds brushing against your skin. Only this time they pierced right through your soul instead.
You knew what had changed. You had felt the sadness, the frustration, the guilt- all blending into one sorrowful symphony, pulling at your heartstrings the way one does to a harp. Yet, amid these familiar emotions, a new feeling loomed large this past week- anxiety.
It arrived in sudden, icy bursts, cold beads of perspiration cascading down your spine, feet suddenly freezing no matter how fuzzy your socks were- the physical telltales, then came the emotional ones. The shadows of dread, for we fear the unseen more than that which we can touch. The growing panic gnawing at your heart, hinting that something profoundly disastrous lurked on the horizon.
Anxiety held you suspended in the air, bound by invisible ropes that compelled you to watch from above as the days drifted past you. You were a ghost haunting an empty shell, hollow and resonant with anxiety's clang, akin to an empty can's descent to the ground.
Your appetite had fled, leaving you alone to grapple with the chore of feeding yourself, mechanically ingesting food only to pacify Minho’s concerned gaze. The TV’s volume blared, since you desperately needed the voices of other people to invade your mind, to render your thoughts merciless, forcing them to put their sword-like tongues down.
And the exhaustion, not accounted to your broken ribs, for Minho had meticulously overseen their recovery. It was an emotional fatigue, a weariness that clung to your every breath, trapping them within your ribcage, far beyond their time, until they tethered on the brink of exploding in your lungs- a supernova of darkness devouring your essence. Only then did the breaths release their hold on you.
So, you patiently awaited the inevitable unraveling, because you knew this wasn’t an ordinary anxiety. Your soul whispered to you in a language your mind could no longer translate, throbbing with a message you couldn’t quite recollect, striving urgently to jog your memory of a monumental truth.
But you didn’t remember– you should have.
You should've known it was Minho’s birthday.
It is near midnight when you venture out of your room, the inflatable bed by your side unusually vacant. A dim glow draws you to the kitchen, and as you stand by its entrance, an intensified cold grips you. It chills the blood in your veins, transforming it into splintered shards that prick uncomfortably beneath your skin.
Minho is sitting by the table, a small, muted cake before him, a shoebox by his side. A solitary candle flickers in front of his face, casting elongating shadows on his chiseled features. The flame is about to fizzle out- you feel like your heart will closely follow suit.
"Minho..." you call out gently, careful not to startle him from the trance ensnaring him. He doesn't react to the sound of your voice.
"Minho, I…"
"Today was my birthday."
His tone is cold, like the darkening clouds before a stormy night. His words feel like lightning bolts piercing your core.
"It would be stupid to blow this candle out, wouldn't it? Because you and I both know my wish won't come true. Maybe it never will. And it's killing me, yn." His voice quivers as it utters your name, a slight shake taking over his lips. His cheeks are tear stained- glimmering reflections under the golden flame. You've never seen him this sad. You don't know how to comfort him in his sadness.
A rush of nausea overwhelms your being, a yearning to expel every emotion, methodically, until your heart transforms into a tranquil organ, solely pulsing life's crimson essence through your frame. Nothing more, nothing less.
"This shoe box is yours. You kept it under the bed, filled it with everything that reminded you of me. You told me..." he pauses, taking in a deep breath. "You told me that you wanted to remember everything about us, every single detail. But I... I don't care if you don't remember every date we went to. I just-" his forehead rests on his palm, as he squeezes his eyes shut. "I just want you to remember that you love me."
Hot tears are rolling across his cheeks, splattering across the table like a broken mosaic. He doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away. He's had enough.
"Minho, I’m-"
"I mean- that's not too much to ask for, right?" he finally lifts his head, locking his eyes with yours. A black abyss, a dark void. You are the one who sucked out all the light.
"You- you said you loved me. And I- I felt it, y/n, when you looked at me, when you touched me. I felt it, it wasn't- it wasn't just words, I-" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at his black locks furiously. "You loved me," his voice breaks. "Why- why can't you remember that you loved me?"
Your tongue bursts to flame in your mouth, its grey ashes choking you from within. What could you even say? How do you stop the bleeding of a heart when you carry knives for fingers?
Minho abruptly stands up, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "We talked about marriage, a-about kids, you said- you said you'd choose me to be the father of your children, you said you wanted a big house w-with me and you-” he points at you, chest heaving, eyes rimmed red. “You said you wanted us to sit at the patio when we're eighty and you wanted us to hold hands still," he chuckles bitterly, his arms falling limp by his side incredulously. "And now you don't even remember me."
He grabs the box, rummaging through its contents furiously. "You see this?" he waves dried flowers before your eyes, their petals falling to the floor from the force of his agitation. "These are the flowers I got you for our first date. You dried them and put them here because you- you said you wanted to preserve it, to remember."
"And this, the cinema tickets from our first movie date. You were so tired you just slept on my shoulder all the time and then I- I carried you home and you kissed me." He's growing more frantic, rifling through the shoe box in a frenzy. You remain rooted by the kitchen's entrance, a sense of powerlessness holding you captive, an unbreakable vice around your being.
"This is the napkin from our favorite cat café, and look," he grabs your hand, clammy palm pressed to yours, pulling you toward the table." This is the receipt of the first time we went grocery shopping together and-" he waves it in the air, before slamming it onto the table. "And, you e-even kept this stupid rock I gave you right before I told you I love you for the first time, because you said it was the happiest day of your life, my god Yn how can you not remember?"
A broken, sob-laden chuckle escapes his lips, a sound so heart wrenchingly human, so painfully poignant that for an instant, it fills you with a bitter aversion to your own humanity- it was never meant to inflict this much pain upon someone else.
Your thoughts shatter as Minho tenderly cups your face, urging you to confront his turbulent gaze. He seeks something within your eyes, and you desperately hope he'd find it, whatever it may be, anything to stop the tremor in his hands as they anchor you in place.
"Why did you- why did you keep all of this if not to remember me.” He asks, unblinking, lip quivering. “Please, please, remember me, just- just try, okay?"
"I’m so sorry-"
"No. No. Don't- don't apologize like it's final like you could never love me again," his hands glide to your shoulders, shaking you slightly in place. "Don't you understand? I-I don't want an apology I want you to remember me."
"Minho..."
"Just look through this, it's our happiest memories y/n, okay?" he let goes of you, circling the table before shoving the box into your hands. He smiles- attempts to, it is an unnatural presence amidst his tears, so out of place it sends shivers down your spine. "Look at it, yn, please," he pleads as your hold on the box falters. "I can’t remember us alone. I’m crushing under the weight of everything we lived it’s exhausting me!"
His voice ascends pitch, the end of his words hanging into the air, searing themselves into the particles you breathe. His voice leaves a painful echo on his trail. You’re exhausting him.
You put the box down, taking three cautious step forwards.
And then you hug Minho.
He can't even hold you back, body trembling with the sobs rippling through him as soon as your chest presses to his. He sinks to the floor and you follow suit, arms enfolding his concaved shoulders tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Im sorry, I'm so sorry Minho. I- I wish I could remember."
You want the kitchen to collapse upon itself. There is too much grief in such a small room- it stains the walls like blood droplets, absorbs his cries like a saturated sponge.
You don’t think you could ever sit at this table again.
He finally clasps your back, drawing you even nearer to him. "Can- can you pretend, just today, please? For my birthday. Pretend you still love me."
"Of course. It's okay, I’m here, honey. I'm here."
"I love you. I love you so much," he whispers, lips pressed against your neck. "And it hurts to love you, so much." He brings your hand to his heart. "It hurts so much right here."
He doesn't let go of your hand, softly caressing your knuckles. His breath hitches as his thumb hovers over your ring finger. "I... I was going to propose, you know? I even bought the ring, stored it away for when the time is right. Do you think you would have remembered if you woke up wearing it?"
He knows your answer would've been yes. You know that too, in the matching cat mugs and the book annotations and the way Minho gently held your face, even in the depths of his despair. Everywhere you look, your answer echoes back- yes, the home chants in unison, that's what you would've said. Yes, yes, yes.
Day 17.
In the cracks of concrete sidewalks, tenacious flowers manage to sprout. Just how in the depths of Minho’s pain, small joys bloomed, nestled in the vacant spaces between you and him.
You'd greet him each time he opened the door, your voice resonating through the apartment like the sweetest sonnet. And he would always pause by the doorknob, basking in the sound of your voice that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Your tone still held that same dulcet timber, a golden honey that once dripped freely upon his soul.
But today, Minho swung open the door and an eerie hush greeted him instead. He ventured in, calling after you, only to be met with utter silence. He anxiously checked the rooms, opening the doors hastily one by one. But you weren't there. You weren't home.
Minho felt the familiar tendrils of worry coiling around his heart, constricting it with each passing moment. He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing your number, only to fall into your voicemail, the robotic voice chilling him to the core.
In the past two weeks, you had made sure to text Minho each time you went outside- a precaution you took due to your fractured ribs which came with frequent fits of dizziness. It was a safety measure for one person, at least, to know where you are.
But you didn't text him today. And he had no idea where you might’ve gone to.
Minho tried to suck in a deep breath, willing the fear to relinquish its icy grip on his body so he could think properly. Maybe you had simply forgotten, he reasoned. Yet, he knew that you never back out on your promises. They were sacred for you since they were once senselessly broken.
For the second time in a mere three weeks, Minho’s deepest fears unfurl like a nightmare before him, ensnaring him in a tapestry woven with the bloody threads of everything that went wrong yesterday.
He carried his shame akin to heavy bricks on his shoulders, causing them to hunch forward- a coward, leaving the house before you even rose, and on his trail, your breakfast and a hastily written note. He couldn’t fathom eating at that kitchen table with you, not when his sobs still echoed around those sage walls, as did your quiet voice as you tried to soothe his cries, holding him between your tender arms.
Minho was scared. He was terrified you’d never come back home after everything that had happened, the words he said and the way he pleaded, nearly at your feet, consumed by a sadness grander than anything he’s ever known.
So, he storms out of the apartment in a hurry, scouring the nearby playground. But you aren’t there. The grocery store is next, the library, the flower shop, the cat café tucked in a corner that you may have stumbled on.
You were still nowhere to be found.
A dreadful sense of foreboding overcame him, akin to how he felt when his phone rang two weeks prior- the unfamiliar number of the hospital shining before his eyes. What if something happened to you, a fit of dizziness but no one was around to help? Life doesn’t grant you a second chance. No one has ever brushed against death’s shoulder twice and lived to tell the tale. What if he receives another call?
He couldn’t survive another call.
Minho stands in the midst of the road, clutching his head with a tight grip, desperately searching his memory for the places that once brought you solace during the months he spent knowing you. However, he quickly remembers that you no longer know of those places.
So where could you have gone?
An epiphany dawns upon Minho- the bridge you had pointed out to him from a distance on one of your walks, the first place you claimed as your own in the city. It towered above the ocean, suspended several meters in the air. He couldn't accompany you there that day, bound by a paralyzing fear of heights.
He prays with all his might that he's right.
He dashes towards the bridge akin to a madman, the desperate rhythm of his pounding feet mirroring the urgency in his heart. It looms tantalizingly close, a mere 15 minutes away, and Minho, in a state of disarray, knows he's not fit to drive right now. He was never fond of running, he didn't enjoy the searing ache in his lungs, robbing him of his ability to breathe. But he welcomes the pain today- it means that he's running fast enough to reach you. He hopes, he prays.
Minho spots you from a distance, a mere silhouette standing at the bridge's edge, your figure unmistakable with the red scarf tightly wound around your neck. Relief nearly brings him to his knees - you're alive.
Minho doesn't think as he sprints to you, eyes solely focused on you and not the void beneath his feet.
"Yn!" he calls out from afar, and you startle, snapping your head back to look at him. He wonders what he must look at you, disheveled hair, the wind knocking down his jean jacket. But he doesn't care.
Minho stands before you without pause, instantly pulling you into the shelter of his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the familiar smell of your shampoo, a constant through the months of knowing you. He clings to it, to the familiarity of your scent and the way your heartbeat seems to pour from your body to his, speaking in a language only your souls can comprehend. His arms clutch at you tightly, rugged breaths escaping his body, dew tears gathering in his eyes and dropping down your shoulders.
Your arms hang limp by your side, confusion etched across your face at the urgency, the frenzy in which he pulled you to his chest, an emotion you hadn’t known in him in these past weeks.
You tentatively raise your hands, patting his back slowly. "Minho, what’s wrong?" you whisper, and he shakes his head.
"You weren't home. I- I thought something happened to you."
"No, I just went on a walk and lost track of time," you reassure him and he pulls away, warm hands cradling your cheeks.
"You're okay, right? Tell me you're okay," he pleads and you smile, nodding your head. “I'm okay, don’t worry.”
Minho drops your face, embarrassment flooding his being at his outburst. It morphs to panic as he realizes the expanse beneath—nothing but the vast ocean, the wind slamming into his body, making him lose his footing.
"Are... you okay?" you ask cautiously. "Minho, you're shaking," you point out, a frown tugging at your lips. "Are you cold?"
He stays silent, unable to place a word beyond the stutter of his lips.
"Here," you hurriedly unwrap your red scarf, enclosing it around his neck. "You're shivering, Minho," you grab his hands, rubbing his fingers, blowing warmth into them, an attempt to kindle fire into him.
"I'm not- not cold. I- I’m scared of heights," he admits through a stutter, eyes tightly closed.
"Then why are you here?" You ask, surprised.
"Because you are."
His confession comes out quietly, softened by the blow of his fear. His eyes remain closed, missing the tears gathering in your eyes, the ones you swiftly try to blink away.
"Let's go, just keep your eyes closed. Hold my hand," you entwine your fingers with his, squeezing it lightly to signal you're there, as you walk across the bridge.
You don't let go until you finally regain solid ground.
"You're safe. you can open your eyes," you say quietly.
"You're okay, right?" he inquires again, stepping closer.
"Why are you asking me this when you're the one shaking?" you chuckle, almost exasperated, nothing funny in the sound.
"I was worried about you, and I thought you left… after yesterday."
"Why would you- My god Minho why would you even come running across this bridge? Why would you do something like that when you're afraid?"
"Because I love you," his voice is resolute, soft as a whisper, as he states a simple truth. It only makes yours reach new heights.
"But why- why do you love me? Why would you still love me after everything I put you through?"
"You didn't put me through anything," he shakes his head, and you take a step back, facing away from him. He can see your body heaving up and down, the weight of unspoken words making your heartbeat race. And then you snap.
"You broke down yesterday," you pivot back, pointing at his chest. "You broke down in my arms because of me. Why would you still love me after all this Minho I don't- I don't understand."
"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I know I probably made you uncomfortable and I shouldn't have asked something like that out of you-"
"No, no, Minho, you don't understand, you shouldn't apologize, I should. I’m the one who hurt you-"
"You didn't hurt me. It's something out of your control, you didn't choose this."
“Stop- just stop being so nice and understanding for a minute. I don’t deserve it!" you shout exasperated, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "You can't look me in the eyes half of the time you can't even fucking breathe in your own home. It's now a- a cemetery for our memories and it'll soon become yours too because I suck the life out of you, can't you see that?"
"I'm not asking you to remember me,” he holds his hands up, in surrender, “I was wrong yesterday, you don't have to remember us."
"There is no us!” you yell, hands thrown in the air, “Not anymore, Minho, maybe never."
You suck in a deep breath, shutting your eyes, willing your voice to ebb and flow into calmness.
"I thought about it. It'll hurt less if you don't see me, time will pass and you'll get used to it, I'm not worth this."
"You are,” he interjects. “You don't get to pick for me, Yn."
"Stop- stop talking like this is normal, stop being so complacent with your pain, Minho you shouldn't love someone who hurts you!"
"Then make me stop loving you. Spare me. Tear open my heart and bleed it dry at your feet or else it won't stop beating for you. Don't you understand? If you are near or if you are far, I will still love you. The only difference is that I'd worry more about you. I'd worry if you're eating, I'd worry if you're taking your medicine, I'd worry if you're drinking out of your favorite cup or if you have a spare shampoo in your drawer because you hate running out of it. I'd worry out of my fucking mind, Yn don't leave."
It had been an encompassing sadness that made his true feelings surge yesterday, breaching the myriad of cracks in his heart. But today, it was fear that cast a revealing light upon his feelings, hidden in the recesses of his being. They surged forth in a transparency you were still not used to, the way the ocean throws on its shores the debris of sunken ships, allowing the grieving families of sailors to finally discover the terrible truth.
Still, his honesty, his soul bare at your mercy isn’t enough to make you stay.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just... I can't- I'm sorry."
You take three steps back, before turning your back to him and walking away. A numbness, like icy talons, seizes his limbs, his gaze fixated on your diminishing figure—carrying away everything he's ever loved. Paralysis envelopes his very essence, a haunting realization that the distance between you is more than a mere physical space. You're vanishing beyond the horizon of his reach, slipping through his desperate grasp. The fear of never seeing you again fractures the stillness, snapping Minho out of his trance.
"To love someone is firstly to confess, I'm prepared to be devastated by you." He shouts, making you pause in your tracks. "Isn't that your favorite quote, Yn? You told me this is what love is about. To place your heart in the palm of the person you love. And your hands are soft, Yn. I don't mind if I'm bruised by them."
"I lied then!” You yell back, tears cascading down your cheeks akin to a waterfall, “Belcourt lied and I lied when I told you this and when I promised that I'd always remember you in that canopy bed-"
"What did you just say?” Minho quickly walks to you, chest heaving. “What canopy bed?"
“It doesn't matter now,” you speak in a small voice, avoiding his eyes, seeking refuge in the ground beneath. Yet, Minho, gentle and determined, cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his.
“It matters to me, Yn, please. What do you mean?"
“We were in that white canopy bed, when I told you that my heart would always remember you.”
“We were,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too. “Did you remember?”
“Not clearly, it was really hazy in my mind. But I remember that the windows were open, I was supposed to feel cold but… your hands on me, and they were warm. And I…” you suck in a deep breath and Minho smiles encouragingly, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek.
“I remember feeling that I loved you,” you finally confess. “Even though I couldn’t see you. That's why I said that I'd always remember you. Because you filled every chamber in my heart, so much that it'd still hold your name even if you left it…that's how I felt.” You pause, as Minho forcibly swallows the lump down his throat.
“But it didn't unlock any new memories and I-”
“It's okay, it’s okay. You still remembered,” he smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, plump. Were they still as warm? Still as soft?
“I did…” you trail off. “You also kissed me, in my memory. Your lips were everywhere and… they were soft.” You add quietly, eyes fixated on his mouth, the smile that once adorned it slipping away.
A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. In this moment, a need unfurls within you, a yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint. The memory of his lips on your skin becomes a beacon, standing tall amidst the tumultuous winds of uncertainty. You want to taste the warmth again. You want to kiss Minho.
“I kissed you.” His hands, once gentle on your cheeks, now slip down with purpose, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of both reassurance and longing.
“You did.”
“And my lips were soft,” he repeats, his red scarf brushing against your throat.
"They were," you respond, breathless. His mouth stands electrifyingly close, a mere hairbreadth away, as you contemplate the simple act of tilting your head, closing the tantalizing gap. All that stands between you and the echoes of the love that was is the lift of your head, a movement that could breathe life into the dormant embers of your heart.
"Yn," Minho speaks softly, his words a gentle brush against the canvas of your shared vulnerability. His minty breath tickles your nose, as you hum, a wordless acknowledgment that hangs in the air. Your eyes remain closed, your heart beating loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.
“Use me. Use me to remember.”
#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#lee know x reader#lee minho x reader#minho x reader#skz imagines#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids angst#skz angst#lee know angst#minho angst#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz au#skz reactions#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fanfiction
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Infatuation - Ruhn Danaan x Reader
masterlist
Summary: Ruhn had been in love before, but the love he felt for his mate was all-consuming.
Meaning: "a really strong desire to be near or know more about someone"
Word Count: 374
Warnings: Strong language
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It was blinding, the love Ruhn felt for Y/n. An all-consuming, mind, body and soul kind of love. A mating bond.
The intensity of their bond had always been there, from the moment the pair locked eyes during an Aux mission. The need to be around one another was like a burning fire. Unrelenting.
"You know, you can go and play pool with the guys."
Ruhn glanced at his mate, the blonde he had nestled into his side, the love of his life.
"No, I'm ok here."
Her green eyes crinkled in amusement, a light laugh falling from her luscious lips.
"You're allowed to have fun with other people, Ruhn."
"But I have plenty of fun with you."
The level of attachment between the two was laughable, their friends and family frequently commenting on how the pair were 'attached at the hip'.
Not that they paid much attention to their ramblings. They hadn't met the twin to their souls. They weren't in love.
Y/n pushed away from his, a hand sliding between his shoulder blades, encouraging Ruhn to step forward.
"Go, have fun with Dec and Flynn. I'll be here when you get back."
Ruhn lost himself in the forest green of her eyes.
"You sure? I can just tell them to fuck off."
"Oh yeah, I'll definitely be popular then," she laughed, face brightening in amusement.
Ruhn couldn't look away from the pure happiness radiating off of her. The light to his dark. The peace to his tormented mind.
"Who cares what they think. I only care about what you think," he said.
And it was true. Declan and Flynn were his brothers by choice, not blood. But Y/n was the air that he breathed, the water that quenched his thirst and the food for his soul. She was life itself.
"Careful Ruhn, Flynn might start calling you a simp," she teased, a hand coming up to brush away the stray strands of his black hair.
"Let them," he whispered, fingers finding the contours of her jaw. "I am completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with you. And nothing else matters."
That was the truth. It was him and her, against the world. Now and forever, however long that might be.
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Hi everyone! A short story coming off a few days of inactivity. Uni has me swamped so I'm sorry for the inconsistent posting. Please feel free to drop a request in the Letter box, and thank for for all the love you've shown so far :)
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Can I request a yandere ayato x yui please? It doesn’t have to be a smut fic but if it is I’m fine either way, thanks (love your writing btw)
Ayato's POV:
I can't think or eat normally, staying away from her might be the only guarantee for her safety. She keeps on trying and trying to get my attention, putting herself in dangerous situations on purpose, she knows that shit pisses me off. All I can think of is her, her deep velvet eyes and the sadness she bears, her creamy skin that I taint with my fangs and her sweet hot blood that quenches my thirst. I know that if this continues I will end up killing her, if she did not mean anything to me I would not give a shit but she means the world to me, I want to slaughter anyone who gets in our way. These bastard Mukami assholes, my brothers, my uncle I dont care..they should all just drop dead, every human ballsack looking guy should die too...she belongs to me, and only me, no one will have her but me. Fuck! Ha, I think I am going insane, I never wanted it to get this bad. I don't want to leave her alone, I want her next to me at all times but I might actually kill her if that is the case..the thought of not being by her side at all times that shit doesn't sit right with me, I don't like the idea of her interacting with anyone but me..
That night, I took a bunch of percs, after thinking it through I decided to slaughter everyone in our path, I started with my lurking Uncle Richter, his presence only made matters worse but killing him was the most challenging, I tore him to pieces limb by limb, then I hurried over to those Mukami bastards, I sniffed 3 lines of cocaine before torturing the those subbreed bastards. Azusa and Kou were easy to kill, I didn't waste my time torturing them, but Ruki's death was to be slow, I wanted to enjoy his agony, cutting out his tongue so I don't have to hear his annoying voice, perhaps I'll cook his tongue and feed it to her..after a few hours of torturing him in front of Yuma I slice his throat and decapitated his head, as well as the other Mukami brothers, I wanted to take their heads and put them on spikes as decorations around the manor, a warning to my brothers, who indeed were next.
After a few more lines of cocaine I was in a frenzy, I decorated the manor gates with their heads. I went back into the manor, she was standing there in horror. "What have you done..!?" she asks in panic and worry, tears in her eyes as she looks away from the sight. I grab her face and make her look at it. "They were in the way, anyone who gets in my way will meet the same fate." I tell her, smiling like a madman probably, she gives me a look of fear, that look does it for me, I kiss her, she resists the kiss, so I pull away and whisper to her "you're not content until they are all gone right? Don't worry, I'll make your wish come true." I told her, my eyes were gleaming into her, that cocaine had me jittery. "No no I dont want anyone else to die.." she makes her pleas, pretending to be this good human and all that crap. "Make no mistake, if I wasn't here these bastards would do as they wish with you, you want that?" I ask her, gripping onto her shoulder blades, she shakes her head then continues to try and defend them I heard enough come from her mouth, I bite her lips, sucking the blood from there until they turn all purple, she passes out after a few moments so I take her into my room and lock her in there, she will wake up to a lovely present.
I took a few more percs, and sniffed the remaining cocaine I had, killing Shu, Reiji and Subaru would be more of a challenge, Laito would expect this and Kanato would be a bitch about it, I'll kill Laito and Kanato quickly, we shared a womb I have to make it a clean and swift death for them. “Ah Ayato, you’ve come to kill me, you’re getting a bit mes-“ Laito began to say but I sliced his head off, Kanato as well, I took their bodies outside and set it a blaze, the fire crackled loudly, this caused Reiji to come out. “Ayato have you lost your mind?!” He went on, I shoved my fingers deep into his eye sockets and tore out his eyeballs, crushing them in my hand, then I pushed Reiji into the fire. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. “..what the fuck have you done..?!” Shu, lazy dull bastard commented, “ha, shu aren’t you scared of fire? I’ll rip your heart out instead” I tell him and yank it out his chest then throw his heart into the fire, his body goes limb and he falls, I burn him too, all that was left was Subaru. He must be hiding.
I began searching the mansion, I made a turn from my room and saw Subaru holding his dagger up to her throat. “Ayato you’ve gone insane, try to kill me and I’ll kill her” he says pressing his dagger to her skin, something in me jolted, I was mad with bloodlust, I did not think, I simply snatched Yui and had her in my grasp now. “She’s mine! Ill fucking kill you, don’t ever touch her again.” I state, I tear off her clothes right in front of Subaru, and start groping her breasts, she tries to cover herself, I grip her wrists so tightly it felt as if her blood circulation would stop, I force my way into her, one hand on her neck, my member deeply in her, she cried and protested the entire time but I wanted Subaru to understand, that I will kill to get what I want, and she is what I want.
#diabolik lovers#diabolik boys#dialovers#yui komori#diabolik brothers#diahell#shu sakamaki#smut#ayato sakamaki#sakamaki subaru#smut diabolik lovers#smut fiction#yandere#reiji sakamaki#laito sakamaki#kanato sakamaki#mukami brothers#oneshot#ayayui#ayato x you#yui x ayato
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love bites | jjk (m) teaser
→ pairing: vampire!jungkook x vampire!reader
→ wc: 1.5k
→ genre(s)/au(s): 18+, modern vampires, vampire au, est relationship, smut
→ summary: its feeding time for you both but this time rather than venture out alone, you take it one step further and feed together.
→ teaser warnings: oc is a such a bad girl n we luv her, jaykay is a fuckin simp, explicit mentions of blood, explicit mentions of dead bodies, sexual groping (both females rec), implied mention of f/f/m, blood drinking, jaykay plays with his food, coerision, implied smut
→ note: thank you @jimilter & @sunshinejunghoseokie for betaing the teaser<33 n mistress magwai @kth1 for the banner sksk
→ note2: the full fic is just pwp. there will be absolutely no plot whatsoever so if that isn't your thing, no hard feelings — move on and let others enjoy what they want
Jungkook sinks his teeth into the woman in front of him, crimson liquid rushing to the surface to aid the bloodlust coursing through him. Not once do Jungkook's eyes leave you as you continue to play with the dark hair of the lifeless male in your own arms.
“Stop her from crying. She's annoying me,” you roll your eyes at her blood curdling scream, accentuating your distaste towards the female.
“Why don’t you come over here and do something about it then?” Jungkook challenges you back with a playful smirk dawning on his lips.
You're quick to push the male from your body, watching as his body drops to the floor in a heap.
“Okay, he’s definitely dead,” you laugh out loud with sinister glee.
You make your way over to Jungkook and stand in front of the woman. She is certainly beautiful with soft raven hair and rather large innocent looking eyes. Eyes that are now flooded with fear and pleasure. What a stupid girl, getting off on being fed from.
Grabbing her by the throat, you squeeze the sides of her neck just enough to keep her quiet but not enough to fully cut off the air to her lungs. Tipping her head up, she looks at you as Jungkook continues to suckle on her blood. He’s made quite the mess of his meal, blood running down her neck.
The scent of her sweet perfume invades your senses as you lower your head to her neck and sniff at the broken flesh where Jungkook's teeth and tongue are lapping away at her with succession. It’s surprising that she’s lasted this long with the way that he’s been going at her.
“Such a pretty little thing you are,” you murmur as your other hand caresses her cheek.
Jungkook finally removes himself from her just to mutter, “you should fucking taste her, she’ll quench your thirst so well.” To prove his point, he drags his index finger through the blood staining her skin and lifts it up to your lips.
“Well you do smell delicious, I will give you that,” you whisper, your lids fluttering shut in delight.
Your hand squeezes harder on her neck and the other finds her right breast. You pinch at the flesh over her clothing and watch as pleasure fills her.
“Bless. You’re such a fighter hanging on for dear life, I’ll give you that much,” you laugh sarcastically.
“W-what do you mean?” The woman squeaks.
Jungkook places a kiss upon her neck, lips brushing across the skin behind her ear. You feel the way her body trembles underneath your touch, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress the smile trying to make its way to your face.
You lower your face towards her, your lips a hair's breadth away from her own. “I’m a good girl, ask anyone. Ask him,” flipping your head up in the direction of Jungkook behind her.
Jungkook’s eyes are dark, full of hunger and not just for the woman he has tangled in his arms. “Now kitten, why lie to your meal?” He toys with you both with his words.
“I-I trust you,” she mutters, trying to assure you or herself, you’re unsure.
“Silly girl. Now why would you do something as reckless as trusting me?” You purr. Your head is spinning, still not sated from the lifeless male you just sank your teeth into not even five minutes ago. “You’re gorgeous and we want you, so what’s the point of beating around the bush?”
Your tongue dips out of your mouth and you flatten it against her neck, feeling a puddle of blood begin to gather at its tip. “As for you, baby. Why does it matter if I tell a white lie or not? She isn’t going to be around to remember what happens.”
The woman doesn’t get time to muster up a response to you as Jungkook cackles with a shrug of his shoulders and sinks his teeth into her neck once more. You laugh obnoxiously before plunging your sharp teeth into her neck right next to your boyfriend. Both of you closing your eyes and listening to her as she makes an involuntary noise which you think resembles a scream.
She reclines her head to the side so that both of your jaws gently graze each other as you feed from the artery. It’s messy and not at all how you both usually feed. There is normally an etiquette to it. Keep it short, clean, and leave no traces behind. But with the way blood splatters around both your mouths, watching it seep into her clothing and pour down to pool at her feet, it unleashes a whole other side to you that you’ve kept hidden for so long.
The bite from a vampire, as you know from personal experience, is a bittersweet ache. The initial feeling of teeth grazing over the skin forces the adrenaline to swim around the body, eroding any fear that they fear as they wait for the moment of release. When teeth pierces the skin and the venom makes its first contact with the bloodstream, there is no pain comparable – like a match that has been left to burn down too far with no method to extinguish the heat, body throwing itself into flight or fight mode to overcome the affliction the body is bathed in.
It's at that point that the human can’t decipher if what they are feeling is pleasure or pain or something else altogether.
Your fingers press further into her throat and the other tighter on her breast, allowing the blood to flow further to the surface as you and Jungkook continue to lap it up. You’ve got to give it to him, he was right about her - she was insatiable. Sweet to the tongue, leaving a tingle to take over your body.
It isn't long before horror is filling her emotions – she begins to tremble with fear as life begins to pour out of her. She is using any remaining ounce of strength she can find to thrash around to fight you both off of her but it is no use. Not with the adrenaline coursing through you paired with Jungkook’s unnatural strength. There is no way she has the power to fight back.
Jungkook moves around her body, his hand now cupping your own tit and teasing at the nipple from over your thin tee. He watches it harden under his touch as he suckles furiously from the wound in her neck and you can’t help but moan at the sight in front of you as you also quench your thirst from her too.
The sounds of you and Jungkook slurping from her fills your ears and leaves you more turned on than you ever would have thought possible. It spurs you on to continue drinking from the puncture wounds in her neck. The familiar metallic taste being drawn from her as you feel her body grow limp in Jungkook's arms is such a treat. Her cries have faded to a silence and the sounds of her whimpering become more and more faint the longer the transaction between the three of you continues.
“Is it just me or does feeding together make you hornier than when you do it alone?” Jungkook asks you with his lips muffling the words as his mouth is both pressed against her flesh and full of blood. “Or is my dick hard because seeing you smothered in blood is a sight I don’t ever want to erase?”
Your eyes roll back to the back of your head but you’re unsure if it’s in delight at the satisfaction the nameless woman is providing you or if it comes from the ridiculous but fair question Jungkook asks you. It seems as if his mind is being clouded by his own arousal. Removing your teeth from her neck, you stare back at Jungkook and allow your hand to run through the raven locks of his hair, pushing strands out of his eyes. You hum in agreement.
You think about it. He isn’t wrong at all. You get to watch him and the way he handles his feeds and you’re reminded that it’s almost as rough as he would handle you during sex. It’s in the way his calloused fingers find the throats of his prey to tear them open and nourish himself. It’s in the way his eyes darken, and his body stiffens as he becomes more sated. You’re certain that if he had a beating heart that it would be racing tenfold. The longer you drink him in, the more that you realise again that he is in fact right — you’ve never felt this horny while feeding and it’s all because of the visual of the man in front of you.
“Why don’t you come over here and do something about it then?” You challenge back, using his own words against him.
full fic coming soon
#thebtswritersclub#btshoneyhive#btsdreamcourt#btswritingcafe#btscarnivalnet#bts#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook x you#bangtan smut#bts imagines#bts smut#jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#bts drabble#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts x reader
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Hello~ I saw your stories that time I was reincarnated into a slimee, How about rimuru and other characters with a vampire s/o? As if she had fangs and needed to suck blood I don't know how to explain it....I'm bad at this....
Anyway, I would really appreciate it!! :3
Although my requests were closed at the moment but I'll gladly do it! I randomly selected so that Rimuru isn't the only one here!
AU: VAMPIRE READER / VAMPIRE S/O
Characters: Rimuru Tempest, Luminous Valentine, Leon Cromwell.
OS / HCS / IMG: Head-Cannons
ROM / PLATN: ROMANTIC
RIMURU TEMPEST
He was surprised when he met you, I mean sure he met Luminous during Walpurgis who was also a vampire but a much higher rank vampire(High Blood).
He was worried that you attack humans to drink blood from them, luckily you can survive a few months without blood but Rimuru always tries to find a way to find a replacement for you to drink blood.
He ended up asking Luminous for some blood supply so you can never attack humans in the end.
He's a bit fascinated by your fangs spite him also having fangs because he's a monster.
You want to walk to the sun but can't? Don't worry! He'll tell Shuna and the dwarves to make you an umbrella that fit you!
He always make sure that your clothes are enough to cover you, long sleeves and long dresses paired with the umbrella that Shuna specificcally made for you!
Although when summer rolls in Jura Tempest, he asks Shuna to make dresses that aren't long sleeved since it's harder to maintain in the heat of the Forest, so reasonable sleeves while you still have your umbrella is fine.
LUMINOUS VALENTINE
She loves you already although she doesn't show it, since you're a Vampire like her but a little weaker cause she's a High Blood Vampire and a Demon Lord.
She's happy because now she has someone to share some blood to drink with! I mean she did have the Vampire twins although she loves you more cause you're her S/O!
Since you can't walk in the sun and are born into a weaker race of vampires Luminous will tell you to drink some of her blood so you can walk in the sun as well.
Although you were very hesitant Luminous managed to secretly replace the blood in your cup with hers so you can finally walk in the sun.
LEON CROMWELL
He isn't surprised when he first met you, he already met Luminous and other various races of Vampires so it doesn't surprise him at all.
You need blood but you're to kill someone just to quench your thirst? Don't worry, Leon is there to catch someone for you so you can drink blood.
He would always demand that the curtains of your bedroom is dark enough for the sun not to seep through since he knows you're of a weaker race of Vampires.
He wants you to evolve so he nonchalantly gives you a Demon Lord seed, although you didn't need to declare yourself a Demon Lord since the new name for the Demon Lords were already settled.
Pig blood, deer blood, human blood, he can give you any kinds of bloods just tell him your favorite or the ones you like and you will have a lifetime supply of them.
#✩*⢄⢁【 inezdeortiz 】⡈⡠*✩#that time i got reincarnated as a slime x y/n#tensura x y/n#rimuru x reader#rimuru tempest#luminous valentine x y/n#leon cromwell x y/n
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Dating Yoko Tanaka
warnings ✩° : mentions of blood and drinking blood, biting//marking, fluff, some possessive or dark themes bc yk...vampire.
pairing ✩° : yoko tanaka x gn!reader
authors note ✩° : not much is known about her but as per requested ((i need to start replying to my asks instead of saying ill do them and then make diff posts about them)) i wanted to smush her in here!!
- As one of the more popular vampires in Nevermore, dating Yoko comes with a price. Of course, nonrefundable. She’s immortal, after all.
- Yoko presents herself as dark and macabre, above all the rest simply because of who she is and what she’s capable of, and that doesn't change when she asks you to be her betrothed. The title sounds scary but it’s just her way of claiming you as her own for life beyond death.
- Yoko doesn't like rejection, nor does she like fighting. So if something angers you enough to start a fight, you either have to learn to accept it or convince her what it was that she did wrong. She’s stubborn but don’t blame her!! She’ll come around eventually.
- Her eyes are sensitive to light, being a vampire and all, so your dates usually take place during the sunset, dusk, or midnight hour. She likes bringing you to rose gardens or 24/7 cafes, she always orders black coffee when she’s not drinking blood, purely because she enjoys the dark ambiance.
- When it comes to quenching her thirst, Yoko can’t control her urges to bite you and feed from your blood. She prefers it from all the artificial alternatives or anyone else she’s fed from. She thinks it’s because you're her betrothed, or it might just because you have a type of blood that’s always sweet—a delicacy she strives to keep away from any other vampires.
- Since word spread that your blood is sweeter than anything Yoko’s ever tasted, all the vampire students kind of flock to you every chance they get. This makes Yoko rather jealous and therefore possessive protective.
- Not saying she’s a full on stalker type but she hides in the shadows and has connections everywhere. Because of this, she has a habit of finishing your sentences, especially those about your whereabouts.
“Today I went out with—”
“Divina.”
“Right...oh! And we—”
“Studied for your philosophy test on Tuesday but got side tracked because she spilled her chocolate frappuccino on herself after reaching for your favorite green mechanical pencil.”
“Are you following me again??”
“...No.”
- Unironically, her favorite place to kiss you is your neck and collarbone. She especially loves when, since you get sensitive there after all the biting she does, you squirm around and fidget under her touch.
- Yoko’s love language would definitely be words of affirmation. She wants to be told how much you love her and explain it in full excruciating detail to the point your tongue gets twisted and your lips go numb. She wants to have deep and meaningful conversations with you where in the middle of the night you doze off to sleep mid conversation, only to sleepily talk your way back into it after she nudges you awake. Of course, she does the same with you and loves listening to you talk.
- This is me projecting but since Yoko comes from an Asian household, her family holds super high expectations to be the best and better than everyone else. It’s a stressful job but being with you is her escape from that, or relation if you come from a similar situation, and she finds herself loving herself around you. Even if you two ARE doing school work, she loves looking over at you and seeing you either struggle or advance in learning. She’s going to help you either way to show off.
- Even though she’s a vampire, she still eats and makes regular food. This means that you never go hungry around her. She’ll serve you freshly cut fruit and homemade Japanese meals she used to eat as a kid like Japanese curry, pork tonkatsu, and simmered fish to name a few.
- Since she’s a vampire, she can be super old fashioned sometimes and treat you like royalty. She loves kissing your hand, then up your wrist and arm, usually ending her affection with a small bite on your shoulder.
#wednesday series#wednesday imagine#wednesday fanfiction#Wednesday#wednesday preferences#yoko tanaka#yoko tanaka wednesday#yoko tanaka x reader#yoko tanaka x you#yoko tanaka fanfic#yoko tanaka preferences#kaicubus
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Elixir of the Sun
The Plot : 8/10
The yandere : 8/10
The artwork : 9/10
Artist : Song Yi
Author : Solddam, KONN, One (둥그라미)
I love my yandere to unconditionally infatuated with their love interest. I mean, there can be a reason or a trigger that kickstart their fascination, but down the line, “unconditional” love is what makes a yandere for me. This, of course as selfless as a yandere can be. I mean, how unconditional can a love be if he would rather confining you in a cage rather than letting you go?
However, yandere’s act of “selfishness” in my book is always rooted from their fear and inability to part from their love interests. This is the key of what makes a yandere for me. That is why, I am not 100% sold with Dhan, the main male character of Elixir of the Sun, being a pure-bred yandere man. I will tell you why.
In the Great Sun Empire, there is a tale of healer goddess called Siyo who is destined to be murdered and betrayed by her slaves. The slaves and Siyo have perished but their descendants are still living around the empire and its surrounding kingdoms. Bayan is an outcast in a Siyo village. She has different attributes and minimum healing skill. But fate brought her to the doorstep of the mad emperor of the Great Sun Empire, Dhan.
The plot itself is quite detailed and interesting with fantasy background. The earlier chapters are quite heart-wrenching, and successfully setting up Bayan’s tragic backstory. She will not meet Dhan until 20 chapters in, but I love slow burn when it is done right.
With the original Siyo’s traitor servant’s blood in his body, Dhan is cursed with the everlasting thirst that consumes his body. Not a single second in his life, he’s able to quench this thirst, until he got a taste of Bayan’s blood. Now, imagine you are in perpetual withdrawal and a person literally has a drug blood that can relieve the symptom. That is who/what Bayan is for Dhan initially.
I mean it is a nice set up for drama and angst, but not a satisfying yandere construct for me, especially when the yandere man is told to be in this state until the last few chapters. There also seems to be a minimal moral dilemma from making Bayan/siyo as a drug livestock.
Their relationship feels organic though. As a character, Bayan is a little bit of Mary Sue. A likeable Mary Sue, but still. I get why people love her. I get why Dhan seems to fall for her right from the beginning. Although I am not sure if it is mainly because of her blood… or perhaps both. Dhan is refreshingly pragmatic and smart, and I love it when the writer is showing these things rather than telling us.
Anyway, as a standalone story, this manhwa has a nice arc to follow, unique story line and a possessive as hell (but progressive) male lead. It might not be a satisfying yandere read for me due to the foundational flaw above, but who knows… you may like it more than I do as I tend to have some quirks about a story that are unusual.
So don’t let it deter you. Read it if you have not already. It is already completed and we are currently entering the side stories.
#male yandere#yandere#yandere boy#yandere male#yandere recommendations#maleyandere#yandereboy#yanderemale#nez manhwa review#elixir of the sun
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Do you think Yuki truly loved both Kaname and zero , cause she was satisfied with zero's blood but with Kaname's blood her thirst wasn't entirely quenched ?
A Vampire Knight ask in MY inbox?? *Debby Ryan hair tuck* (Thank you I've literally been dying to talk about VK at any given moment)
So I think that Yuuki loved them both, yes. But if we're talking "True Love" I think it's a lot more nuanced than that. (I'm also going to ignore the FAMILIAL dynamics in this rant bc we already know)
Let's talk about Yuuki's relationship with Kaname:
Kaname saving Yuuki from a "bad vampire" is her first human memory. He visits on occasion and is nothing but kind, caring, if not distant towards Yuuki. Yuuki finds herself seeking out his attention and looking forward to seeing him as it's a rare treat. She has only ever known since she was small that he will a) protect her , b) be kind to her, and c) he's "not like other vampires" because he is her savior. The only identifier of his vampirism she has as a child is his fangs, other than that seemingly nothing else about him is like a vampire.
In middle school, she accidentally sees Kaname feeding on Ruka and this challenges her opinion of him "not being like other vampires". She's introduced to the reality that a) Kaname is a vampire, and b) that she does not truly know him. Much like realizing that though our parents may have raised us, though we have known people all our juvenile lives, it doesn't mean we know everything about them and the intricacies of their character; That they are people, and not the objects of affection that we have placed on a pedestal.
After this realization, Yuuki puts distance between herself and Kaname, using "-sama" and treating him differently due to her anxieties around vampirism and her glorification of his saving her (in her mind, the only thing that separates him from not being the vampire that wishes to feed on her and cause her harm, the "bad vampire").
I feel as though much of Yuuki's feelings towards Kaname at the start of her time at Cross Academy are romanticized anxiety (she has feelings of anxiety and is uncomfortable around him, but those feelings are easily mistaken for feelings of "butterflies", excitement, or attraction). She has conflict within herself: being afraid of Kaname as a vampire, not knowing his true intentions and character, as opposed to her experience of being saved and his kindness towards her. And throughout the series of events at Cross Academy, because Kaname withholds the truth from her, lies to her, and consistently gaslights her, all she has keeping her afloat is faith that he has good intentions. That's not a true or healthy relationship because there is no trust or communication between them.
It isn't until after Yuuki is turned that truth is finally being obtained and Kaname comes clean about his actions for the past 10 years. They are able to build some intimacy between them. He finally shares his vulnerable past with her, as he views this as a chance for her to unconditionally accept him. However, Yuuki remains in conflict, because he has withheld the truth for so long, and she feels personally responsible for his suffering. When she suggests they start over as equals in the relationship, Kaname takes this as her ultimate rejection of him (though they have both consistently tried to bear one another's burdens).
Kaname then sets the stage for his self sabotage and plot to indiscriminately kill all purebloods and to do so he feels he must estrange Yuuki (and Adiou) from him in order to do so uninhibited.
Kaname betrays them (or appears to, even though I feel that's almost worst) and later Yuuki confronts him that she will never abandon him. Which I find to be one of the good examples of Yuuki's love. She will love him despite that which he has done, but she still believes in stopping his destruction and holding him accountable for what he's done.
Ultimately, Kaname tells her that when they were together she couldn't smile from her heart (the motif for true love), but she was the light of his life. He then sacrifices himself for the greater good (which conveniently absolves him of everything he did prior) and he remains a monolith looming over Yuuki's life.
I think Yuuki had great love for him but do I think it qualifies as "true love"? If things had been different, I think they could have had a successful relationship, but ultimately I find them deeply incompatible. Kaname is too depressed and has 10,000 years of firmly rooted self hatred to be capable of having a relationship, and Yuuki will never truly understand him and what he went through, and has immense guilt over it. Did they have love for each other? Absolutely. Did they have trust, open communication, and all that entails with a healthy relationship? Absolutely not. I don't think that either of them could provide the other with what they needed.
Let's talk about Yuuki's relationship with Zero:
Their relationship starts as Yuuki seeing Zero suffering and she decides to be his caretaker, soothing him and stopping his self harm. She recognizes his fear and pain and can sympathize with it. They build a friendship in which they are around each other constantly, and feel comfortable to tease one another, tutor and take notes for the other, and talk about serious topics. They have a friendship. (Which I feel like Kaname and Yuuki never had)
Zero is then revealed to be a vampire to Yuuki in the most literal way, a vampire who drinks her blood. Yuuki again has her reality shattered, but takes the blame for not noticing. She catches Zero trying to unalive himself and she takes responsibility for his life upon herself. And it isn't until later, she learns that Zero will inevitably become a Level E and be ended, that she thinks of the only possible solution: to sacrifice herself to prolong his life. For me this is the ultimate example of her love, that she would put her life on the line for his (especially with her fear and anxiety about vampires).
Yuuki then tries to make their "unforgiveable, forbidden acts" as pedestrian as possible, to put Zero at ease. Zero acknowledges her suffering and takes full responsibility for it. He opens up about his past to her, and she inserts herself into the Shizuka drama to try and save him again. Zero asks her "What am I to you?" because he has always known of her feelings for Kaname, and is confused why Yuuki would sacrifice herself time and time again if she didn't have love for him. When Yuuki tries to answer this for herself, she thinks about how she doesn't want him to disappear, she wants him to smile, and how she should be afraid of Zero but she can't look away.
Zero always encourages her not to pretend or hide her feelings, which is when she asks him if she would be stronger if she was a vampire because she's been feeling insecure about her lack of identity. She's afraid that expressing this fear to Zero has hurt him, and so she WILLS HERSELF TO REMEMBER HER PAST WHICH STARTS UNRAVELLING JURI'S SPELL ON HER.
In this period, Zero does nothing but support her and offer her solutions to find the truth about her past. He tells her that his life is hers, and that she is his priority and she can burden him with her thoughts and feelings, and she has every right to do so. He helps her confront Kaname on multiple occasions.
When Zero comes to check on Yuuki in one of her hallucinations, she admits that being Zero's caretaker was her own selfish way of giving herself identity, to help her compensate for having no memories and no family.
When Yuuki is turned, Zero is blinded by his hatred. They kill Rido together but Zero is in conflict with her. He confesses his feelings, and doesn't expect her to reciprocate, and asks if her worries are gone now that the has her memories. He then promises to kill her then next time he sees her. (Spoiler alert, he doesn't) Yuuki sobs as she doesn't want to be his enemy, realizes his feelings for her, and decides to lock away her feelings about him.
Every interaction they have after that, is stumbling, and awkward. She's admitted to Kaname that her thirst cannot be quenched by him alone, that she desires Zero as well.
When she reinstates the nightclass, she still worries about him but their relationship is different, and expresses a desire that things go back to the way they were between them. They say things like "treasure yourself more" to each other, Zero still shows he cares and his intentions are not to kill her, but he's struggling with his hatred. Then Zero finds out that Kaname has puppeteered him all along, and they team up against Kaname's murder spree.
Then we have the masquerade where they pretend not to know each other, and they share a kiss. Yuuki speculates that if they were both human, that would have been the normal course of action for them. Then she takes his memory because she plans to give up her life for Kaname to be human, and she can't bear the thought of Zero thirsting for her/grieving her. Kaname admits to her that Zero's love for her wasn't orchestrated by him (which both Zero and Yuuki were uncertain about). Zero remembers like two days later, and decides to accept her for who she is, to fight WITH Kaname against the vampire hoards because he loves Yuuki more than he hates Kaname.
After Kaname dies, Zero tells Yuuki that he'll always be there for her and to take her time. He is a surrogate father to Ai, and bloodshares with Yuuki, he is EXTREMELY patient with her and her anxieties around loving after Kaname, and their relationship overall is communicative, loving, and healthy. And Zero makes her smile from the bottom of her heart.
I think that they make mistakes with each other, they've had their pit falls but overcome them, they have an understanding of one another and they ultimately love and accept one another. I think that she was able to experience true, unconditional, romantic love with Zero. Her thirst may not have been quenched fully, but Zero gave a lot more than he took in the end (honesty, communication, reciprocation, etc) .
And she still had love for Kaname after he was gone. It was a love that colored her life. Even Zero acknowledges that the way Yuuki cares for him, was learned from Kaname. It's simultaneously sad and unfair, and beautiful and romantic. We are made up of our experiences, and love in toxic relationships isn't a fault, but toxic behaviour is.
Well anyway, that's my big long rant on that.
#LONG POST#vampire knight#yuuki kuran#yuuki#yuuki cross#yuki kuran#yuki cross#zero kiryu#zero kiryuu#kaname#kaname kuran#zero#i like seeing all sides#and i'm not here for a shipping war#zeki#everyone is valid in liking the character they like and shipping the ship they ship
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Fate what's your Favoret thing in the whole world
FATE: The dull monotony I experience in highschool creates a thirst that can only be quenched by slowburn gay fanfiction that only updates every three years with chapters that are over ten thousand words long. Much, much longer.
FATE: I like optimist x pessimist ships. Red and blue. I'm sure it's a matter of projection. You know why. Shush.
FATE: ...For the record, I also love my friends. They come second to gay fanfiction, but those losers mean the world to me.
FATE: Someone fucking has to, because clearly not a single one of them has a parental figure in their life that's taught them emotional honesty!
FATE: I'm sure Nahla would rather vomit blood and die before she admits she cares about me, but I care about her, and I would give the world to see her happy, and I try to let her know that at least biweekly!
NAHLA: LAAAAAAME.
FATE: You are one of my oldest, dearest friends and you are not responsible for what happened and I don't hold any of it against you and I love you very much.
NAHLA: Cringe.
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Red Hot Winter- Chapter 16
Trigger warning- Blood sharing, vampire torture, the Mikaelsons being a dysfunctional family
Chapter 16- "Midnight Hours"
It didn't take long for the last harvest girl to make contact with the Mikaelsons. Two weeks after Francesca had died, Klaus, Caroline, Elijah, and Elena had failed in their efforts to locate her, even though Klaus wanted to force Davina to find her to which Elena strongly opposed, they got an invitation in the mail.
While the four of them were having breakfast, Caroline gave the envelope to Klaus.
"You are cordially invited to a night of the harvest feast, tonight at 9 pm." Klaus read.
"Harvest feast, Niklaus?" Asked Elijah, his hand tightening on Elena's waist.
"It could be just a coincidence, brother." Said Klaus.
"What do you mean?" Asked Elena.
"This time of the year, when we were still human it was our village's tradition to celebrate the Harvest Feast or Skördefest. It was to celebrate the successful harvest of the year while we prepared for the months we wouldn't be able to rip anything from the land." Explained Elijah.
"Wait, so what are we thinking?" Asked Caroline. "Most of the harvest girls are dead, you two killed two of them."
"It's not the witches' ceremony love." Replied Klaus, holding her hand. "We don't think the final harvest girl came back, we think our mother came back inside her body."
"How is that even possible?" Asked Elena.
"She was consecrated on New Orleans grounds, and besides, Mother always has a few tricks up her sleeve." Replied Klaus.
"You're not going Elena. Last time Mother was in your presence, she talked you into a spell to kill all of us, and I can't let her do anything against you again." Said Elijah.
"I'm not leaving you alone with her, I'm coming with you." Said Elena, in a tone that left no space for argument.
"I'm not staying either. You said I'm queen, and a queen doesn't leave her king behind." Said Caroline, crossing her arms and looking at Klaus, who smirked at her.
Later that night, Elena was finishing getting ready to leave when Elijah showed up behind her. He was almost ready as well.
"You're afraid." She said, turning around. He stopped butting up his shirt, bringing her close to his body.
"I'm not afraid. I'm concerned. It's different."
"What's concerning you?" She asked, putting her arms around his neck.
"When Esther saw what vampirism did to me and my siblings, she wanted to destroy us. That's why she made our father a vampire hunter, and Alaric Saltzman a vampire hunter as well. I'm afraid Mother will see how happy and in love we are and try to destroy what we have."
"Remember what Bonnie said? No witch can break our bond." She moved her face to whisper in his ear. "And I'd love to make it even stronger before we leave."
Leaning her head back, she scratched her neck with her nail drawing some blood, watching his face transform. She'd never get tired of this sight. His eyes turned black, the veins popped up and his fangs came down, and he bit into her neck.
It doesn't matter how many times they've done this, neither one of them would ever get over the fact of how euphoric it made them feel. Her blood seemed like it was just made for him, just the right flavor. He was addicted to it. Not taking it anymore, Elena bit into his shoulder, ruining his shirt and quenching her thirst for his blood. This was more than just making sure Esther wouldn't break their bond, this was a reaffirmation that no one ever could. Elena clutched into Elijah's back, his blood being the best drink she'd ever had. Their life force mixed together, as it is always supposed to be.
Elena and Elijah stopped drinking and looked at each other, smiling. Elijah held her face and kissed her. As their lips locked, they both had an intense rush of pleasure pouring through their veins, as if they were alive once again. Suddenly, a bond more powerful than anything before began to form. It was as if their souls were connected and intertwined together, and nothing in the world could stop them. They embraced again, this time exchanging each other's blood with every caress. This exchange felt like the purest and most passionate form of love conceivable, and soon they were both overcome with emotion, Elena had no choice but to accept the intense feelings of love and devotion that Elijah was displaying. After a few moments, the intensity of the kiss had not worn. They then shared what seemed like the longest and most passionate kiss ever and soon after they did a rush of excitement and love overcame them both, and they knew that this was a real love, a love that was unbreakable and worth treasuring forever.
When they separated, satisfied, they knew Esther wouldn't be able to do anything against them. Or at least, that was their hope.
Klaus, on the other hand, was not taking any chances.
"You need me to do what?" Asked Bonnie inside his office. Caroline was beside him.
"I need you to do a spell to protect Caroline and one that links me and Elijah," Klaus replied.
"Putting a spell to protect Caroline I get it, but why would you want to link yourself to your brother?" Bonnie said.
"Well, let's just say that the last time me, Elijah, and a doppelganger were together during a harvest festival, it didn't turn out so well for Elijah later. That was the night our mother decided who to ask for blood to perform the vampirism spell, as you all know, Tatia was the one who gave her the blood."
"What does this have to do with Elijah though?" Asked Caroline.
"Love, you can ask me for anything in the world and I'll give it to you, but I can't answer that. Not even I know all the details, but… it took my brother decades to crawl out from what my mother did to him."
"Okay. But what about Elena? Doesn't she need protection too?" Asked Bonnie.
"My brother would die before letting anything happen to her. And besides, I'm pretty sure the blood sharing they've just done will not allow Esther to do much." Replied Klaus.
Bonnie went to work, grabbing one of Caroline's hands and putting over a golden bowl. She cut through the vampire's palm, letting a few blood drops fall, and reciting the incantation. Caroline's blood turned to fire, and what appeared to be a golden halo enveloped the young vampire, quickly fading away.
"You're protected." Said Bonnie, smiling. "Now, for you." She said, turning to the hybrid. "I'm gonna need your blood and your brothers as well, and I'm also gonna need you to write your name and your brother's name in runes. They don't teach runes anymore."
"No problem Bon-bon." Said Klaus, writing down his name 'Niklaus' (ᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᚢᛊ) and 'Elijah' (ᛖᛚᛁᛃᚨᚺ), and then biting his own wrist, letting the blood fall onto the sheet. Bonnie started to recite another incantation, watching the blood fall onto Klaus's name and then to Elijah, linking both of the originals.
After thanking the witch, who left to continue teaching Davina, even though she didn't like the fact that the young witch made a new witch friend called Kaleb, who had been showing up to their meetings all the time, Caroline turned to Klaus.
"You want to protect your brother." She said.
"Yes, my love." He said, looking at her. "While my father has done unspeakable things to me throughout the centuries, I'm afraid my mother has done something far worse to Elijah." His tone in the last sentence left no room for question.
"Why do you call Mikael your father? He was not your biological father." Looking at his feet, he said:
"He has done damage only a father could make. Sometimes I wonder if I'm gonna do the same things to Hope." Tears fell from his eyes.
"You're not," Caroline reassured him, wiping his tears by kissing his face. "You know how I know?" He looked at her, while she held his face between her hands. "You're doing everything in your power to make this place a safer home for her. You've been doing right by her even before she was born. You love her, and you have forever to spend with her."
Klaus gently kissed her. She was truly his queen.
The ride to Esther's house was fast, but what they dreaded was inside. The four of them got into Esther's house and were greeted by Vincent. Both Elijah and Klaus had a deadly grip on Elena and Caroline's waist, ready to attack if they had to. They were led outside by the witch. There was a bonfire in the middle of the yard, a table set for six with various types of Viking food, and by the smell of animal blood in the air, it appeared that Esther had followed the tradition to a T.
"Welcome, welcome." Said Esther, in the body of the fourth and final Harvest girl. "Niklaus, Elijah, so great to have you in my house. But I don't remember inviting a young vampire and a third-generation doppelganger."
"You do anything against them Esther, and I'll rip your heart out." Said Elijah, in a threatening tone.
"That's no way to treat our mother!" Said Vincent.
"Mother? The only one who would say such a thing would be Finn." Said Klaus. "Wasn't it enough to come back from the dead? You had to bring our most annoying sibling along?"
"Niklaus." Said Elijah. "You can't say those things about our brother."
"Can't I?" Defied Klaus.
"You lock me up in a box for 900 years Niklaus. You expect me to thank you?" Said Finn.
"Children, we have visitors." Said Esther, trying to quiet her sons. "Now, let's eat." The six of them sit at the table, Esther and Finn at both ends of the table, with Elijah sitting next to Elena, and Caroline and Klaus seating next to each other facing the couple.
They all started to eat, Elijah serving Elena, with Klaus doing the same to Caroline.
"Now Elena." Said Esther, after a few minutes. "How's your brother? I heard he had become a hunter of the brotherhood of the five."
"Mother, don't." Warned Elijah.
"It's okay, Elijah," Elena said, holding his hand with more strength than she usually did. "My brother was killed by Katherine to wake up Silas."
"I'm terribly sorry for your loss, dear." Said Esther. "In the matters of the supernatural, is never good when a poor child loses their life." That got Klaus's attention, who looked at her. "One week our beloved Henrik was alive and running through the fields as if nothing mattered, the next he's dead because he and Niklaus went to watch the wolves." Caroline put her hand on Klaus's leg to calm him down, because he was about to snap. "By the way" Esther's turned to Klaus. "How's my little granddaughter doing?"
The silence was deafening. The four of them knew they couldn't deny and say she was dead, though the whole city thought so. If she knew, she had become a more deadlier threat than they had originally thought.
In a matter of seconds, Klaus stood up and held his mother by her neck. Finn stood up, but Elijah was quicker and held him back.
"You and Niklaus, always looking out for each other." Said Finn. "It's almost pathetic how devoted you are to him, Elijah."
"I swore my alliance to him the day you and Kol decided to leave me and Rebekah behind."
"He puts you in a coffin for decades and you still stand by him?"
"I'll never leave my family behind, not even if I have to stand against you brother."
"What do you know about Hope?" Klaus demanded to know, squeezing Esther's neck. "I've killed you once. I can easily do it again"
"I know she is not dead. Do you really think the witches wouldn't feel if a being so powerful like her died? You might have the entire city, the vampires and the wolves convinced she is dead, but the witches know better."
"If you make a move against my daughter, your life will be reduced to a never-ending agony."
"I don't need to make a move against your daughter Klaus… I just need to hit you where you hurt." And with that, Finn started to recite an incantation. The chains that had been used to restrain the animals for the harvest came off the ground, locking themselves on each of Elijah's wrists, and then tying to two branches of two nearby trees. Both Elijah and Klaus screamed in agony. The chains had been soaked in vervain and were piercing against the vampire's skin.
"No!" Screamed Elena, going to him to try and let him go. Finn tried to hold her back but she had transformed into full vampire mode and bit his neck, drinking his blood enough to keep him away. "Elijah!" Elena tried to take the chains out, but even with her strength, she couldn't open them up.
"Don't bother." Said Finn weakly. "You will never be able to open them up"
"Let him go!" Said Klaus, who had let off his mother when the chains had been tied to his brother.
"No." Said Esther. "I'm gonna make your life, and your brother's life as unbearable and agonizing as I can."
"Niklaus…" Said Elijah, debilitated. "Get her out of here."
"No, please Elijah, don't…" Begged Elena.
"She can't break our bond, love." Said Elijah. "I don't want you to stay here and get yourself hurt because of me."
"Elena, let's go." Said Caroline, trying to get her to go.
"I'm not going!" Said Elena, her tears mixing with the blood she had drank.
"Elena, look at me, please." Begged Elijah, having trouble breathing. "I know you'll be back for me. I need you to go, I need to protect you, my lovely Elena. Please."
Elena kissed him one last time as she leaned into him. Tears streaming down her face, she felt like time had stopped as they embraced and all her worries and fears seemed to disappear. She savored this moment, remembering how his lips felt as he did the same.
Each kiss they shared had been like a testimony to their time together, and this last one carried the weight of all the others wrestled with the knowledge of what it meant – she had to leave him. Tears blurred her vision as she stepped away.
If it wasn't for Klaus dragging her away, she'd stay behind, even though Elijah had asked her to leave. Elijah breathed out in relief, watching his brother take his love to safety and finally let the poison of the vervain overtake him.
Back at the compound, Elena was ready to give Klaus a piece of her mind.
"Elena, do you really think I would go to a dinner party with my mother and not have an advantage?" Said Klaus, pouring himself some scotch, while Caroline was trying to calm her down. "Before we left, I asked the Bennett witch to link me and my brother. That way, even if my mother tries to kill him, she can't kill me. I'll heal and so will him."
Elena flew across the room, holding Klaus by his neck, and throwing his cup away.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" She asked.
"Well, you and my brother were too busy sharing your blood. And besides, we're going to rescue him" Elena let go of Klaus.
"And how are we gonna do this?" Asked the brunette.
"Well, mother is in the body of a teenager. Knowledge is not her problem, but she is not as strong on that body, and she wouldn't be able to compete against a Bennett and a Harvest witch together."
Even though she didn't want to bring Davina into this, Elena knew the young witch would do just that. She considered Elena her older sister and would do anything to keep her happy.
"Fine." Said Elena. "Let's do it your way."
Elena got out of Klaus's office and went to her and Elijah's bedroom. She took her clothes off and put on one of Elijah's shirts, being enveloped by his scent. Laying on the bed, she started to cry.
"We're gonna bring you back." She whispered.
Back in Esther's yard, Elijah could've sworn he heard Elena whisper that they’d bring him back. His moment of hopefulness was cut short by Esther driving a stake with vervain on his chest, and he gave himself up to the darkness again.
#elejah#elena gilbert#elijah mikaelson#elijah mikealson imagine#elijah mikealson x reader#klaus mikaelson#original vampire#originals#the originals#the vampire diaries#klaroline#tvd klaus#klaus mikealson smut#klaus mikealson x reader#klaus x caroline#caroline forbes#finn mikaelson#esther mikaelson#bonnie bennett#candice king#candice accola#joseph morgan#nina dobrev#daniel gillies#katerina petrova#katherinepierce#kat graham
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Harrison Wells (Flash) - Extra
Honestly, you should have known Cisco would not be very mature about the situation.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! A VAMPIRE!!”
Then he proceeded to burst into a fit of laughter. One show of Harry’s fangs and Cisco was silent for the rest of the conversation.
“I just need help making a cure. I have the main elements down, I’m just missing something.”
Barry studied the equation, so did Cisco, but neither of them seem to know what the right element was. Barry went through a series of options, each one Harry stated that he has already tried with no success. You were snacking on some gummies when you walked in and realized they had made no progress.
“It’s hopeless.” Cisco said defeatedly, slouched on a chair.
You nibbled on your gummy.
“I know I’m not a genius or anything, but have you guys tried blood?”
Barry sat upright, raising a brow.
“Blood?”
You nod.
“I know you’ve probably tested Harry’s blood to make an antidote, but what about a separate carrier? My blood has technically been exposed to the virus since he already bit me. But I’m not displaying the symptoms. That must mean I’m immune in some aspects. My blood also quenched his thirst for a while, so maybe it has a cure.”
Cisco practically leaped out of his chair and you could see the wheels turning in Harry’s head.
“You’re a genius (Y/N)!!” Cisco exclaimed.
“I try.” You boast.
For the remainder of the afternoon Caitlin, Barry and Cisco are busy at work with Harry. They finally seem to come to a consensus on the cure they’ve created.
“I hope this works.” Caitlin says.
She’s anxious, but Harry was adamant. So she injected him.
Waiting is the hard part.
It would take about an hour, then they could retest his blood to see if it actually worked. So for that time, Harry tries to stay busy. He’s once again moved to his space to seclude himself. You’re not about to let him worry alone. He doesn’t need to turn. You have a feeling he knows you're there at his door.
“Hiding again?”
“I’m not hiding.” He looks like he’s fixing something, or possibly trying to distract himself.
“So, you want to talk about what happened or are we just going to pretend that it didn’t.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. “ You frown.
“I took advantage of you in a time of weakness. If this works you won’t have to worry about that happening again. You won’t have to do me any favors.”
“Is that really what you think? That I was just doing you a favor?”
You can see his fist balled on the table.
“You said it yourself, we’re family. “
You scoff.
“Are you really putting me in the sister zone right now!”
Harry turns, and he looks annoyed.
“I know you were just doing what you did out of obligation. Sympathy. I’m not an idiot.”
You can’t believe he’s so dense.
“You must be an idiot if that’s what you think!!”
This is just like him. Making decisions all on his own.
“You think if Barry or Cisco had this issue I would freaking do that! Do I look like some kind of hoe!”
“Of course not I just-”
“You what!! Never considered that I might have actual feelings for you!”
He is silent, and you groan, running a hand over your face to calm down.
“Jeez Harry you might be a genius but you’re so stupid. I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for months!! I want to kiss you, hug you. Be there when you’re sad or frustrated or happy. I want every part of you. I want to be there when you’re gushing about Jesse’s accomplishments or boasting about your inventions. Gosh I want to fuck you senseless!!”
Maybe that last part was a little too honest and loud. You cover your cheeks, embarrassed.
“What the hell are you making me admit?”
You’re irritated that you’ve spilled so much.
He’s still standing there looking like a deer in headlights. You let out another sound of frustration, turning to leave. Harry beats you to it. He’s now standing in front of the door, closing it. You gulp at that look in his eyes. You forgot for a second that he still has those abilities.
“I crave you.” He confesses.
He takes a step toward you, and you can’t get your body to make a move.
“I was keeping my distance because when I came back, all I could think about was you. None of the others displayed signs of possessiveness or even a craving for blood. They all just got fevers. A natural reaction to a foreign substance in their bodies. But I..I was drawn to you. Your scent, your eyes, your lips..”
His words are making you a bit lightheaded.
“I convinced myself that you were merely doing me a service. That way if you decided that it was a mistake, neither of us would get hurt.”
You can understand that reasoning. He was protecting himself.
“I’m sorry that you felt like that was the only option. Maybe I should have told you how I felt sooner. Then you wouldn’t have to question if it was real. “ Harry shakes his head, gently taking your cheeks into his hands.
“I should have been upfront about everything. My sickness, my feelings. I promised myself after Jesse that I would not keep any secrets. I want to be true to that. I’ll try to be more honest. I promise.” The mere fact that he’s willing to try speaks volumes.
“I’ll do the same.” You bargain.
He smiles, leaving a kiss on your cheek. As he pulls away, you bite your lip.
“If we’re being honest..I..I kind of liked it when you bit me. I-It was like those silly stories you read about online.” Harry chuckles.
“The whole vampire trope is what does it for you huh?”
You giggle.
“I guess so.”
It’s nice to be able to speak with him like this. No barriers or walls keeping you apart.
“What do you like?”
You’re looking at him almost innocently. He’s a bit confused by the question.
“What do I like?” You nod, nibbling on your lower lip.
“Y-You know, what kind of stuff do you like?”
Oh.
His eyes run over your body. There are so many things that he likes about you. But that’s not what you’re asking. Not completely. He leans in, pressing a kiss right behind your ear. You shiver when his lips brush your skin.
“I liked when you were on top of me. Kissing me. Grinding into me.”
The visual makes you breathless.
Your eyes move to the timer he has set on his watch.
“We have twenty minutes.” you whisper.
He doesn’t need further encouragement.
~Twenty Minutes Later~
Barry, Cisco and Caitlin lift their heads when they hear the timer.
“The results are ready.” Caitlin looks over, but Harry isn’t there.
“Where did he go?” Cisco rolls his eyes.
“Probably moping in his room. Let’s go drag him out. With any luck (Y/N) is there trying to talk some sense into him. “ Cisco leads the way and Cailtin sends a smile at Barry. As annoyed as he’s acting, they know it comes from a caring place. The two were practically brothers. So they venture down to his room. As they get closer, Caitlin raises a brow when she hears a thud.
“Did you guys hear that?”
Barry nods.
They move closer, and the sound seems to echo. For a moment they all seem to shift to fighting mode. Ready for anything, but the voice on the other side of the room stops them.
“H-Harry..Oh shit! HARRY!”
Your screams of pleasure are hard to miss. Caitlin’s face turns beet red. Barry takes a much needed step back. Cisco’s jaw basically drops. There’s another crash from behind the door.
“What the hell are they doing in there?” Barry can’t help but ask, because a bang follows.
“Let’s get out of here. Last time I tried to help that shameless bastard.” Cisco is grumbling the entire way back, and they follow briskly.
He would come for the results when he was ready.
#harrison wells#vampires#humor#funny#care#Barry Allen#cisco ramon#caitlin#insecure#cures#love#harryxreader#feelings#mature#fluff
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a doll's fascination || helen and maya (feat. kanato)
A/N: Helen has been one of my OC crushes lately (thank you @nutaella-kookie for creating this beautiful creature) and I believe my OC would have a girl crush on her as well. Cause ya know nothing wrong with female friendships and Helen is such a splendid girl (who wouldn't have a crush on her) 💗💗💗
When Maya was still adjusting to her new life as a vampire (and Kanato's wife), she struggled with quenching her thirst. At first, it was relatively easy because she was blind for a few days, leading Kanato to confine her in his bedroom. But when she regained her eyesight and started going to school, hell broke loose.
Every day, she would grow anxious. What if she can't control her thirst? What if she suddenly attacked a human being out of nowhere and drink their blood while people can see? She knows the price of being a vampire is giving up her humanity, but she doesn't want to be like some starving dog eating whatever delicious food comes her way.
So she avoided crowds as much as possible. Even resorted to drinking Kanato's blood to fill her stomach so she won't end up craving for others. However, sometimes she can't avoid being in one corner. For instance, she had co-members in the baking club who would get injuries from cooking a lot of stuff. There are also times during PE classes when her classmates would trip or fall.
Goodness, this hunger is killing me, she thought, almost wanting to rip out her hair out of frustration.
She was sitting on the toilet in one of the bathroom stalls, muffling her cries as she stuffs her nose with anything that would block the smell of blood.
I want to get out of here.
I want to go home with Kanato and drink his blood.
I don't want to be here.
Her solitude was cut short when someone knocked on the stall door and asked, "Hey, are you okay? Is something the matter?"
Maya ceased her crying at once, trying to come up with an excuse so this human being would go away. She doesn't need to be here. She needs to be safe in a place where she can laugh freely without thinking about vampires and such.
"Umm... hello? Are you still there? Are you okay?" the stranger asked, knocking again on the door.
Slowly, but surely, Maya opened the door, taking a peek at the stranger. To her surprise, it was none other than Helen Harrison. Well, they've never officially talked or anything. Maya just knows her because there was a rampant statement in the household that Shu and Laito dated the same girl whose blood didn't smell that great.
Ah, she's the pretty ballerina girl who dumped Laito-san, she thought at that time, and still up to this moment as she muses on Helen's appearance. No wonder she did. She's too good for him.
"Hey, I know you! Sakamaki Maya, was it?" Helen said, realizing the vampire doll's identity. "You're Kanato's girl—I mean wife, right? That's what I heard."
Maya nodded in response. Well, it was new. Before, she would try to deny the marriage rumors between her and Kanato. Now, she could only admit to them as they had already sealed the deal.
"So... why are you crying by the wa—"
The school bell chimed in, indicating the end of night classes. Helen turned to Maya and waved off.
"Too bad, school's over. It's nice meeting you, Maya-chan. See you again next time!"
Maya bowed, but before Helen could leave the restroom, the vampire doll tugged on her arm nervously. Physical contact with other people really is something Maya should work on, but at least this was a step.
"Umm... I'm not good with crowds," Maya started, feeling embarrassed as she had to explain her current predicament to a stranger. "I'm still a new vampire, and... I find the smell of your blood comforting."
When Maya saw Helen's dumbfounded expression, she immediately wanted to dig a hole right now and bury herself alive.
Maybe I scared her.
"D-D-Don't worry! I-I-I won't drink. I just want to go home safe w-w-without losing control so please—"
And then Helen was laughing at her genuinely. Maya was surprised at her reaction, watching her almost cry tears of joy at her statement.
"That's funny," she remarked, her laughter slowly dying in sighs. "Your brothers-in-law always complained about my blood, so I thought you would too."
With that said, Helen accompanied her to the school entrance and once they saw a glimpse of the familiar limousine, Maya thanked her again and came up to Kanato, sourly frowning at Helen's presence.
He held Maya close and kissed her forehead. "Why are you with her?" Kanato inquired, watching Helen from afar, who was just making sure Maya got to the limo safely.
"She helped me fight my urge for blood," Maya explained with a quiet smile.
Kanato didn't like that. She should've told him about her problem instead of relying on one of his brother's former playthings. Well, he's been feeling great today, so he'll just let it slide. Besides, it's just Helen Harrison. He knows she won't hurt Maya. (But if she does, I'll break her neck, Kanato says at the back of his mind).
"Why do you always surround yourself with mortals who don't taste good?" Kanato muttered, which made Maya giggle in response.
And so they went in the limo and drove off, with Helen walking in the opposite direction, possibly to stop by somewhere else or meet this one guy she's been texting lately and kill time.
#helen is the best girl#kanato sakamaki#kanato x oc#kanato x maya#helen harrison#diabolik lovers#diabolik lovers headcanons#maya sakamaki#diahell#diabolik lovers fanfic#kanato's vampire doll#sakamaki kanato#diabolik boys#diabolik brothers#sakamaki brothers#kanato sakamaki headcanons#oc crush#oc interaction#the vampire doll#helen
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Daily Writing Challenge August 2023 Day 3
Ominous / Possibility ( @daily-writing-challenge @serararku )
World: Final Fantasy 14
Theme: Runahild - Urseid
The air was calm. The land was still.
S’era gazed upon the sword with the sun setting in the horizon behind it in silence. It was another day for rest, another day to gather herself. Yet S’era’s heart could not be tamed. Fury still coursed through her veins. Hatred gripped her heart like an accursed hand. Her tribe rejoiced in the complete annihilation of the shelled men, the Garleans, but there was no joy for her. Thanalan’s thirst for blood had been quenched, but not hers. Her beloved S’tage was still dead, the ones responsible for that have passed beyond the veil as well– she made sure of that. Yet her heart still yearned for revenge, her soul still ached for justice. With the shelled men all dead or gone, could she ever truly know peace? For years she’s devoted her life to their destruction, and despite drenching the land in their vile blood, she found no peace from her torment.
Perhaps she was broken. Perhaps Azeyma Herself was punishing her for going against the decree of her tribe’s former matron. She was not of the warrior caste yet she bore their scars and spilled blood in their name all the same. Would the Goddess really rebuke her for such acts? She never had a more loyal servant, truly?
S’era closed her eyes and listened to the distant celebrations far below. Eventually she would have to join them, lest they go searching for her and discover this grave. A brave face is what she needed– soon– but not now. Now she struggled with her inner demons, and for the first time in her life since taking up the sword she no longer had a clear goal to pursue. The shelled men have been driven from their castrums, their homelands burned, their people scattered. No longer would their children hide in fear of their golems of steel and flame! No longer would their black helmets haunt their dreams! Today should be a day to celebrate, should it not? The great enemy of the Miqo’te has been brought low by Azeyma’s chosen people, never to return and taint the badlands of Thanalan ever again. Surely this should make her happy.
But it didn’t. S’era was cursed to know no peace from this hatred until she was capable of letting it go. IF she was capable of letting it go, that is. For now she would have to find more enemies of her tribe to slaughter… or perhaps this maddening hatred would leave her once she did what she was destined to do– settle down and help bring more children into the world. Her Nunh, S’vahli, was not a terrible ruler by any means… she could provide him with fierce daughters, surely. However the thought of that only seemed to make her angry. Thinking made her angry. Kneeling here made her angry.
Perhaps it was time to return to the others and revel with her family.
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Elder Vampire! Seokjin x Newborn Vampire! Reader: Blood is Red
Part i
A/n: I am a sucker for Vampires, I just LOVE vampires, and this whole shoot screamed ANCIENT VAMPIRE ENERGY. So here it is. And there's just something different with Seokjin in suit. (In this AU just the bute doesn't change you, it kills you untill you are provided the blood of an pure blood vampire within a certain time to get turned... my au my rules 😛) There are gonna be mentions of blood and almost death so read with caution. Really nervous for this one.
Summary: Namu clan has always been very strict and secretive as to whom they let into their clan. And go strictly by the rules of the Vampire Community as to never put a threat to their identity. What happens when Jimin finds a girl on the verge of death in an abandoned street.
----------------------------------------------------
"Hyung? Why did you bring her here?" You heard faint voices. But you couldn't move, you couldn't bring yourself to even open your eyes, you felt numb, a huge nothingness all but an excruciating pain near your neck. You heard panic voices of males and female. Suddenly, you felt a metallic feeling in your mouth and it felt liquidy you coughed as the liquid gurggled down your throat, it was a little bitter.
And you lost consciousness.
----------------------------------------------------
Your head felt heavy and clouded, you heard two faint voices.
"I bet 10 bucks she wont wake up. What if she's D word" a voice said.
"She didn't even wake up, how do you know she could be a dick? Besides she's a girl, she technically can't be a dick" another voice said.
"He means Dead you duffer not dick" a third voice said "Ouch! Why did you hit me"
"Didn't Hyung tell you it's bad to say that word in here!"
You finally mustered up the courage to say "Thirsty.... Water" its true your throat felt parched and dry.
You managed to open your eyes and noticed the three most beautiful guys in the world.
One of them got up to support you up as you looked close to him, he somehow ressembled a bunny and the other came up with a glass of water, you grabbed it from him and the other two shouted
"No! No! No no!" But it was too late, as soon as you touched the glass it shattered into pieces, thanks for the blanket that covered you that it didn't fall and cut your skin.
"What.. just happened" you asked not able to speak with thirst.
The third boy, which you could say was the prettiest of the three brought another glass of water and said "I'll feed you, open your mouth" you opened your mouth and he lightly poured the water as you gulped the water down, but even after a full glass of water your thirst was still there.
"That won't work for her right now" a voice came from the door way. You looked towards the door and saw a handsome looking man with broad shoulders, damn he was so handsome it almost hurt your eye, he waltzed down the path to your bed with such poise and grace that your brain could hardly process that.
He came up to you and offered you a glass that seemed to be of metal, you were hesitant to touch it after what happened to the previous glass.
"You can hold it, dont worry it wont break" he said. There's something in his voice that made you wanna trust him. You took hold of the glass and sipped and immediately spit it out, resulting to the prettiest boy and your blanket to have sprinkles of read in them
"What did you expect? Pumpkin juice?" The guy who was holding you blurted out. (iykwim ;)
"Drink it. It's a tonic that I have specially concocted, myself" you looked at him for a while at his choice of words. But nonetheless drunk the 'tonic', strangely it tasted pleasant. And it seemed to actually quench your thirst.
"Good girl" he said "Jungkook, fold up the bed and rest her back with pillows. Tae take away the blanket and be careful of the glass pieces I should not see one shard of glass on the ground and Jimin go get cleaned up and then call Jihyo and tell her bring a pair of her comfortable clothes here"
And then the three went on. The bunny guy did his part and was walking out of what now you noticed to seem like a hospital room, "Jungkook, summon Namjoon for me"
"Yes hyung" he said and walked away.
"So, may I have your name milady? This is Jin, Kim Seokjin, at your service" the man said. You would lie if you'd say you didn't get a bit creeped out by the lingo and choice of words this Seokjin guy makes.
"Yn Ln (Ln Yn.. which ever you prefer)"
"A pretty name for a pretty Lady" he said, that made you blush.
Suddenly another tall man appeared at the doorway and when you say appear it mean appear like suddenly. "You called hyung" he asked in a somber manner he walked into the room almost knocking down a lamp, but he quickly caught it and mumbled a sorry and walked to your bed.
"Hey Yn its Namjoon" the guy said with a dimpled smile.
"How did you know my name?" You asked.
"You're ID was in your bag, so I looked it up anyway. Lets check your vitals" he said with a stethoscope.
"Wooaah. Its been so long since I checked a new born" he said with the widest smile. But you went still, what did he mean by new born?
"Excuse me? What did you mean by a new born!" You asked swatting Namjoon's hands away.
"A new born as in a newly turned vampire? Didn't hyung tell you" that was when the two of you looked at Seokjin, who smiled and said
"Ah. I was getting there. I am so sorry, I have not had the chance to deal with newly turns in a while so it slipped my mind. Um.. you're a vampire now" he said ballantly.
"A WHAT!"
Suddenly, the Taehyung guy appeared from behind Jin with a Tablet in hand, whats with these people and literally appearing out of nowhere.
He started reading "Vampire"
"(in European folklore) a corpse supposed to leave its grave at night to drink the blood of the living by biting their necks with long pointed canine teeth."
"Oh? That didn't seem very right" he said scratching his head.
"I Know WHAT A VAMPIRE IS! AND I ALSO KNOW THEY ARE NOT REAL!" You said.
"Oh hello?! Then what are we? Unicorns!" Taehyung said glaring.
"Gimme your hand Yn" Seokjin demanded. You hesitated but his gaze made you want to do anything he wanted. And you did, you out your hand on his out stretched palm and he took it to his mouth, and ran your thumb through what you saw to be his canine which seem to suddenly have extended. You felt a sting in your thumb and you pulled it to yourself to see you're bleeding. How can somebody have this sharp canines and they are again back to the normal size. But that's not just it, what shocked you more is that with in seconds the bleeding stopped, and there's not cut, no scar, as if the cut never existed, but how is that possible?
"It-it-it was right there?! No scar! No cut! What did you do to me?!" You freaked out.
"We saved you, do you remember what happened to you that night" Namjoon spoke up.
"Yeah! That-that night, I-I was walking down an alley, I had gotten off work quite late, and some one suddenly, appeared as if out of the darkness and they cornered me." You felt shivers run down your spine as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Seokjin held you hand in order to comfort you which he did and encouraged you to go on "I tried to get them off me, but they didn't, my body was filled with scratches and who was it was, they were enjoying it. They were enjoying watching me squirm as they scratched across my chest and right after I felt two stings on my neck and then I dont remember anything" you said.
"Im so sorry you had to go through this" Taehyung said "Jimin found you all tattered and hurt and bleeding in an alley, he went for his night walk and smelt blood, he was alone so he couldn't follow whoever attacked you. Then.. but.."
You nodded for him to continue and Namjoon started "Then he brought you here, but time was running out, you had gotten so worse that we didn't have time to do anything but turn you"
"Turn me? Didn't the bite turn me" you saud. Suddenly a giggle was heard from Taehyung who said "Sorry, but that's what they show in the books and movies"
"Yeah" Namjoon continued, "If you get bitten, you get infected, which in the olden days lead to fever, seizures and eventually paralysis or death. But, thanks to medical advancement and technology, it has a cure now but that takes time. In order to turn a bitten individual, one needs to feed then blood from a pure blood vampire" and then you realised what that cold liquid was, which you had a faint memory of.
You immediately looked at Seokjin and asked "It was your blood wasn't it?" And he nodded.
"I heard I was summoned" another voice said from the door, you looked and awed at the woman, who looked like a real angel.
"Hi Jihyo! Did you bring the clothes?"
"Its Noona to you and yes I did" the woman who just entered said and looked at you and said "Glad to have more girls abroad, these guys have started to give me the creeps. C'mon lets get you washed and then you can continue" she trailed off and pointed at all of you saying "this".
"So you all are vampires? Everyone?" You said and looked up, to find each of them with their fangs out.
"Do not worry you will learn to use yours as well" Seokjin said, and you let Jihyo take you away.
----------------------------------------------------
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Apothecary Diaries | WN Translation | Arc 9 - Chapter 9
Hi, however you found this: Welcome!
For a number of reasons I ended up here - I relay all that happens in the chapters, playing wine-aunt, as I translate to the best of my abilities.
So, be warned, there's all the spoilers down below. If you want spoilers, but less - my dm's/asks are open!
If you're new, here's the Masterlist.
Enjoy part 3 of the corn mini arc, as I dubbed it!
Cornfield - Conclusion
The house of the elderly man named Nenshin had what could only be called as a simple exterior and interior. Maomao even thinks that it’s similar to her own in the red light district.
There’s a stove, a bed, a shabby table and chairs - the only difference was that, if Maomao’s house was centered around medicine, Nenshin’s is all about agricultural equipment.
She thinks that just by looking at it all, she knows he’s a simple man.
The next line’s giving me a hard time but Narrator-Mao either notices an injury on him that’s not serious or that his injuries show how serious he is.
There were three chairs and only Nenshin stood as he poured goat milk into a battered cup. He goes on saying that “The man named Rikuson did come here. About five days ago.”
Narrator-Mao notes that that was exactly the day before she met Rikuson in Saito(?).
She asks what Rikuson had been here for - she’d intended for Basen or Lahan-nii to ask the questions, but since she’d been the one to bring up Rikuson's name, she spoke.
Nenshin explains that whatever the reason was (for Rikuson to show up) he just handed him a hoe and asked him to plow.
Maomao’s like “Plowing? Isn’t it already late for wheat? Or is wheat sown in the spring?”
She’d heard that wheat is a crop that can be grown in two seasons. Some seeds are sown in winter and harvested in the spring or early summer, while others are sown in the spring and harvested in the fall.
Nenshin argues that that’s not it, putting a cup of goat’s milk on the table and offering it to Maomao. Basen has a strange look on his face at the unfamiliar drink but Maomao was grateful and decided to quench her thirst. The milk was lukewarm but there’s nothing weird in it, it’s just goat’s milk.
Nenshin then drops the bomb that “To put it simply, he was asked to help out with a ritual.”
Maomao tilts her head, repeating “A ritual?”, while Basen and Lahan-nii look at each other, unable to get a grasp on what was said.
Maomao asks “Do you mean one to celebrate a good yield?” but Nenshin argues that “Instead of celebrating a good one, it would be better to say that we’re trying to exorcize a bad harvest.”
“......... I apologize. For us that’s a difficult topic. Could you explain it a bit more clearly?”
In response to her request, Nenshin sits down on his bed with his tongue sticking out. It somehow oozes a sense of ill-naturedness.
“What? Please be this old man’s conversation partner for a moment. The villagers don’t want to talk with me.”
Basen, slightly irritated, replies “Old man, we don’t have free time.” (it’s trying to make the point that they aren’t in the village to play)
Nenshin, however, says “Oh, I see.” and.. just lays down on his bed.
Maomao gets up from her chair to hold Basen back. She apologizes and asks him to please talk with her.
Narrator-Mao notes that a lot of things are free if you just bow your head.
“Hmm, what should I do?” - Nenshin’s tone is more sadistic than playful. But then he adds that he doesn’t feel like it, so he won’t.
Basen(?) can only respond with “Oh, that’s it?!” but when he's about to get in trouble and tries to take a step forward Maomo stops him.
She thinks “Please stop fighting just because you’re hot blooded”.
Meanwhile Narrator-Mao thinks about the fact that she knows how skilled Basen is and that she doesn’t think he would be able to back down against an old man - but she’s not sure.
She thinks “People with this type of character can be oddly stubborn”. then adds as narrator that, even if Basen was stronger, Nenshin would never admit he’d lost. He would shut his mouth like a clam though.
Which, in her head, she knows is a problem.
Narrator-Mao, however, felt that the way Nenshin went about phrasing things was a bit mean-spirited. She wonders if he really wants to talk with her about something, given how he’d let her into the house once she had mentioned Rikuson.
She asks “How can I get you to talk to me?” and realizes that her words just come out badly/awkwardly.
Nenshin replies: “I know. How about you guess?”
Maomao’s like “Guess? What should I guess?”
He says.. “It’s simple. I wish you to guess who I am/was.”
Maomao thinks that that doesn’t make any sense.
Basen and Lahan-nii look at each other again - Narrator-Mao can’t help but notice that for some reason they seem to be a good match.
“Then I…” Basen tries, raising his hand to answer, but Nenshin raises his own - the one with the missing finger. He says “I’m asking the young girl over here, I didn’t ask you, boy.”
Basen tries to get something else out, but he’s holding back.
To the old man covered in scars, the baby-faced military officer must be like a boy.
Now, if only Maomao has the right to answer, how should she respond?
She thinks that Nenshin is a great name though.
It means reading the truth.
Then she thinks that it’s such a great name, she hopes it’s not false or a bluff.
He had called himself “Locust.” If you're a farmer, that’s a pest.
She thinks “Destroying/Devouring crops?”
He’s missing his index finger.. even his eye.
She thinks that he has a really scarred up body for a farmer - but he’s never served in the military.
He must’ve fought, at least once. Moreover, they look like scars from a past battle.
She then thinks about how, when you lose your fingers, you become unable to hold a weapon - especially bows…
Suddenly she remembers the bandits that attacked them the day before. Wondering if those who had their arms broken had been handed over to the authorities by now.
If they’re bandits, they’ll be hanged, or at best executed - she thinks.. and Narrator-Mao recalls that Nenshin said what Rikuson had helped him with was a ritual.
“... Nenshin-san.”
“What is it?”
Nenshin had told her that if she could guess it, she should.
While unrelated, Lahan-nii is glaring at Maomao with anger on his face. He probably doesn’t like the fact that she’s calling the old man she just met by his name.
But she reminds herself, in her head, that that’s not what this is about right now.
Maomao takes a deep breath, then exhales. “Are you a sacrifice?”, she asks and the people around her froze at that.
“What- What is that answer?” Basen tosses back at her.
“You don’t know? It’s a person who’s sacrificed while alive.”
“I get that much. Why is this old man a sacrifice? He’s alive, as you can see.”
Speaking of sacrifice, it’s usually synonymous with the loss of life.. However, to Maomao, this answer seemed most appropriate.
“I’m not sure why you asked this question.” Maomao admits.
Unlike Basen’s reaction, as Maomao looks at Nenshin, the old mans face showed a somewhat satisfied expression.
“I see, that’s right.. Sacrifice.. Is that what I was/I guess that’s what I was.” He lets out a deep breath, then narrows his one remaining eye.
Nenshin then says: “Hey, you three. Would you like to hear an old story about a certain stupid bastard?”
Although his tone was light, there seemed to be a heavy emotion behind Nenshin’s one eye.
“Please.”
This time Lahan-nii and Basen both bow their heads, as to not spoil Nenshin’s mood.
| Notes & Chapter 10
So, uh,.. I said I’d be honest if I went wrong somewhere. Apparently I did because in the last chapter I didn’t get it anywhere that Nenshin calls himself a locust.
I guess maybe I missed a line or he says it in response to Basen asking if he was in the military? I’ll have to check. Just know that sometimes I get the actual needed context for a minimal thing 3k words later.
I'll just prep you now, since I've seen what goes on with his story, that Nenshin sticks around for quite a while. His story is pretty.. honestly, it's probably the heaviest/darkest chapter so far. Trigger warnings are up, please mind them.
So, while the corn mini arc ends here, farmville lives on.
There is one line where Nengen tries to get them to engage with him where I got both - that he wants our 3 buddies to play with or talk to him, because the villagers won’t. I settled with the more mature option, but.. yeah, you saw the chapter.
About the “Would you like to hear an old tale of a stupid bastard” line, you could also go with “guy”, but I honestly have never heard the specific word used in a light way like that.
I’ll keep trying to add little bits of character that would get lost in translation. I feel like it’s really shifting a lot of the ways they come across in just a plain english novel version. That’s honestly one of my favorite parts, but I don’t know if you guys would get too annoyed about it, so yeah.
If you'd like to get tagged or notified when new chapters drop, let me know!
I hope you enjoyed and I’ll see you with the next one! Stay safe!
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