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prettynalilmagic · 2 months

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ℙ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝔸 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕕: 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜- ℝ𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟

Decks: Considerate Cat Tarot Vol 2, The Dark Mirror, Tarot of Pagan Cats, The Wild Unknown Archetypes

This reading will be shadow work based on what exactly are we repressing and not aware of. And how to work through it with advice from me and tarot. Take everything as a small guide, tarot is a tool for guidance and not to see or predict the future.

Pile one

First things first, Go get therapy.

"Its not about choosing the chains.

Its about choosing them again and again."

Pile one welcome to your little section. So, I had a theme card for your overall shadow, which was Addicted. At first, I was troubled with finding out exactly what type of addiction was causing you to repress your shadow, and I kept pulling cards and I realized that your shadow is built on way too many situations that come back to your dissatisfaction from your life. Pile One your addicted to hating yourself. You have heavy cards that show me that there’s this feeling of self-inflicted despair. Your shadow emits contempt for life, you hate yourself and honestly hate life overall. The hanged Man in reverse shows me that you grew up very much internally, most of your experiences are based inwardly as you felt left behind on life. Everyone seemed to reject you. Your loved ones, and people who are supposed to be close, turned their backs on you at some point so in turn you did the same. The world rejected you growing up. Life showed you, that you aren’t deserving of love, so you internalized that and have subconsciously clung onto that delusion.

Pile one do you feel like nothing can change you? Nothing can fix you? That things will stay the same or get worse over time? Have you even thought about how you feel about yourself truly? When was the last time you willingly reflected on your own self-image? Do you think there's any motivation for you to live your life beyond what traps you? Going back to your theme card, your repression is very much self-imprisoned. You don’t see you can work through any internal conflict and you in turn have been chaining your own self to depression. Nobody is perfect, that's true, but self-discovery is beautiful however it's also difficult. This won't be an easy task.

Mentally, you’re at rock bottom almost every day. Do you dissociate a lot? Do you even know if you do? Because I recently discovered that I dissociate a whole lot throughout my life and have never known I was doing it. Human brains are truly mind blowing, it can take and hold so much stress and pain, then hide it away from us so when we don’t keep reliving and feeling all that hurt.

Nobody wants to struggle and be depressed, and our brain very much plays a part in helping us hide it away. Chances are you downplay or don’t care to think or consider your own shadow self.

I'm not fit to diagnose, but pile one look into Complex Trauma, C-PTSD, and being Shame Bound. Learn about various types of traumas, habits, and attachment styles on YouTube it will help you get a rough idea on understanding what you need to improve on without using therapy. However, please if you can, look into seeing a psychologist and a therapist.

I know life is super tough as it is for you and you might not be able to afford it but research if there's anything you can afford and if you truly have searched, look into self-help groups online and self-help programs as well. There are free eBooks you can illegally get, pirate that shit. Get a tarot deck for yourself and do shadow work readings. Also please stop reading all the dumbass future partner and next lover readings, invest love into your own damn self before investing it onto some person you most likely haven’t even met or aren’t going to meet. Sorry it's a pet peeve of mine. Chances are you’re reading this on your phone or computer, get on the notes app and write out that little ass of yours. Please there’s still so many ways to make your own mental stability easier on yourself. There's so much stuff you can do if you truly look into it, I recommend watching Patrick Teahan, Heidi Priebe, Psych2Go, and Kati Morton, they're my personal favorite therapy youtubers, and they can help you.

Okay going back to the cards, and not my own personal input, the hanged man in reversed also shows me that it was your environment growing up that has formed you into who you are. Life for you looked like everything was so big and almost outta reach for you to grasp, but you’re still here, you have developed habits that has made growing up easier, you learn to get by.

Which leads me to the present, you got the 9 of cups, meaning that your experiences have made you who you are. It ties back to all those built of moments of isolation and lack of love for yourself that you grew up with. Obviously when we grow up knowing others are treating or making you feel some type of way, you take from that and build your mindset on all those experiences.

This hatred is what we use to get by and we build ourselves up to work with our hatred. You know you felt like you are replaceable or have a deep fear of being left behind, we go outta our way to justify being the ones to leave others and replace other people with anything else to get that same feeling, until the same trigger happens. It's a never-ending cycle and growing up it can actually be helpful. As a child we only experienced all the heavy emotions and were not shown consistent or significant amount of effort for our needs, so we learn to not expect that and run away from anything that triggers that little child in you. No one was there to show love so obviously unhealthy habits and mindsets get developed and grow up with us and only gets worse and worse as time flies by. Pile one, you are depressed and hopeless but cheer up, just because your life hasn’t been the best does not equate to that being a set-in stone reality for the rest of your life.

You can make your own life better; the daughter of cups reverse shows me that there's this desire to play around with stuff, just do it. Stop thinking about it, do it. Fuck shit up, stop being afraid of messing stuff up, you think the ones who have hurt you stopped when they were making you feel not cared for or loved? Nope, so just have fun.

Do that fun hobby idea you been thinking about. Get messy with life, even if it is creating something very sloppy. You want to express yourself some type of way but feel like you shouldn’t? Well just do it, even if you feel like a joke or an idiot just try it and see how it feels. Even if you don’t necessarily want to do something or show off a different look or skill, and your more so afraid of making mistakes and not being perfect, just push that thought to the back of your head.

If you spill your drink and make a mess, guess what you can clean it up, you don't have to get mad at yourself or at the drink. Shit happens, and why should you submerge yourself into all the small things with these big emotions like anger and sadness. Relax and rest those pretty eyes. Which goes into your last main card, Four of Swords. Again, relax for once, don’t guilt yourself. Everyone who has it easy, allows themself to relax from time. Even if they don’t doesn't mean that you should do the same thing. Have fun, learn more about who you are and why you are here. There’s so much self-sabotage that goes unnoticed by everyone.

Learn from yourself, thank who you had to become to get to here, and learn how to work past that when that shadow side doesn't help you anymore. You don’t have to 100% love yourself to overcome your shadow. Because here’s the thing, you’re not overcoming it, you’re learning to accept it and work with it to do better. Your shadow is who you are and use it to your ability to grow. Pile one get outta here and watch some therapy videos pls, you will be happier even for just a second.

Pile Two

"What I can't have forever, I will have for a minute. What I can't have for a minute, I will hold to me for one second."

Hello pile two, welcome to your pile. I assume for the most part your shadow is not something you shy away from because quite frankly there's not a significant amount of repression that is being displayed; I feel like this kind of shifted into a little bit of a motivational reading from your guides to tell you about one specific flaw in you rather to tackle down one serious hindering issue.

You guys got two theme cards for your theme of the overall shadow side that you're repressing. I pulled Masquerade and Queen of my world, for you pile two. Both cards have one thing in common. Both are attached to the word Bargain. Which tells me that you tend to do the most to procrastinate the process of bad emotions or habits. Masquerade is all about living in the moment and doing everything in your power to savor and dwell into the fleeting moments you so desperately want to hold onto and stick to. Queen of my world is all about holding onto a facade that hinders the possibility of being seen as anything other than graceful and powerful. You also pulled the daughter of wands in reversed. Which tells me that you procrastinate as well, and you can honestly be very disorderly as well.

You repress your shadow self because of how uncomfortable you are for being seen as who you wish you could be.

You know when we live our whole lives trying to maintain a certain image, it can be so hard and honestly draining. It makes sense why you want to slack off and just live in the moment because maintaining the way you think you have to come off to other people is very draining and if you think about it, your facade is stressful weather you are or aren't aware of it. Having live off of short moments and a false persona is only going to fulfill you for so long, do you think pretending to be stronger, smarter, or fiercer than you really going to stop you from embracing your true inner strength? Because aren't you tired of always having to consistently perform? I don't know if you are even doing it for yourself because doing that for so long will tire you out and make you unsure of who you are deep down.

Pile two, I did pull the son of cups. Which is a very charming and very appealing person to be around, this just reinforces that you will be this at all times for everyone and everything. Given that this is the card that's supposed to represent your present reality, I believe that you are a very much cookie cutter desired person. Someone who is always on top of how you appear as. All I see is that there's this big grand facade of being this person that is so desirable and welcoming. Everyone wants to present themselves in a good light to an extent but for you pile two it's very apparent that this isn't a want for you, it is a need and you do whatever needs to be done to be this beautiful picture-perfect version of yourself, but your human, so guess what? You are at a point where you have to chill out and learn to be yourself, not the ideal version at all times. It's okay to not be what everyone else wants you to be, or what your parents want you to be or whoever else you want to idealize you. You're a human, you're only capable of so much, you're flawed, and you can want to do or partake in things that are different from what should be expected from you.

I pulled The High Priestess in reversed for you as clarification for Son of Cups. Which tells me that you are a very spiritual person, which would make sense, you are reading a tarot reading. Besides that, it brings up to light that your inner self is not being done justice.

Do you even understand who you truly are? Not what you think you have to be to maintain approval.

This facade habit is not aligned with your highest potential. Because face it, do you think you will be happy for the rest of your life pretending to be something that isn't the real you? Just because others think you will be does not make that idea a reality, stop deceiving your true potential.

I don't want to assume but my guess is you may or may not have immigrant parents that have kind of forced this urgency to be a certain way to please them. At the end of the day, you know how you want to be or wish to be. If you don't relate to that portion obviously disregard it, it could be anything from grades, skills, and appearance. Maybe it's a controlling figure, which could be a lover or a person in power over you causing you to feel like you cannot be authentically yourself.

The next card for you is Chariot, which is all about heading straight to where you want to be. Who you want to be. Nobody is going to be able to do it for you. You have built a wonderful mask for yourself for so long that it'll be hard to take it off and learn what you look like when you aren't wearing one. It will be unnatural to you at first, but you will get used to it. You got this pile two. I hope the best for you beautiful.

Pile Three

"I cannot recognize myself. But I'm still me."

Welcome to your reading Pile three. I pulled two oracle cards; Downcast Pride and Is this Me, which the purpose is to reflect on the main themes of your reading. Is this Me is associated with the last stage the Dark Mirrors Oracle grief cycle, which the stage of acceptance, whereas Downcast Pride is associated with the depression stage.

Which brings up the primary point- your shadow self that is being repressed, is your own lack of attachment to joy or fulfillment for your life. This pile does remind me a lot about pile one, as both were attached to the stage of depression. There's been this emptiness in our lives for so long, that we become very dull in life and don't bother to work or see things in a way outside of that empty feeling. Yet, on contrast to pile one, pile three is more so at the phrase of depression morphing into the stage of acceptance. Pile three has wisdom and more insight compared to both previous piles. Pile three you have this inward recognition that everyone is within means of having the capacity to alter your method of thinking and act based on that. You're the more self-aware pile so congratulations on that. I got the High Priestess reversed, Nine of Cups reversed, and Two of Swords as the cards to represent what is being repressed from your past. Nine of Cups was the overall main card for the first question and when it's in reversed I read it as dissatisfaction despite all the opportunities that have been given to us. Perhaps, we overestimated what should be given or granted to us and are disappointed that we don't feel satisfied even if our needs have generally been met. In other words, even though you didn't have the worst hand in life, you're not content. It's possible, you have taken your status, or a piece of your own identity for granted. Given the length of time we have used certain facets of our identity for so long, or maybe even briefly; our perspective of our identity can very much be impacted with that facet we once were attached to and what we used to represent. And it also plays a significant role in preserving our happiness and contentment. Now, this "opportunity" or fragment of identify has gotten away as time gives space for it to vanish off. Life is all about change, it's difficult to accept yet we can't and shouldn't allow it to dictate our personal fulfillment. Change is devasting but so is self-pity, a little self-pity is healthy for you, too much is detrimental for us to expand ourselves onto newer and better things. This could mean anything, such as growing up thin and gorgeous. Years go by and now you've gained more weight than you like, eyes have become dull and wrinkly skin has formed in the corners of your eyes, forehead, arms and almost your entire body. Maybe you're blaming yourself for not earning as much money or for not being able to get the same level of love, appreciation or attention from other people. It could be anything—even a passion that ignited a fire in your life that has gradually faded over time. (Mind you, I am not saying that if you picked pile three you have to be old enough to be worrying about wrinkles or having to make more money from the previous year, any age group could pick this. School, family and mental/physical illnesses can be factors as well not just time itself.) Two of Swords also brings up a different point, that highlights being at a standoff with decision-making. Pile three, did you make a lot of decisions based off of what someone else told you was better or what would best suit someone else? Two of swords displays a lot of lack of self-assurance and I think that part of your fulfillment that's displayed from Downcast Pride roots from not being more assertive in your own personal decisions. The High Priestess is a very spiritual card, and as it is included in the spread's earlier sections, I interpret this to mean that either an inner wisdom has been present but has been clouded by the lack of purpose and achievement. You have potential, but with all this chaotic energy, you have suppressed a lot of this fulfillment. Even after all this time has passed and you still feel as though you are in the same place in life. How come you never knew or tried to figure out what you wanted to do? You're not content and have felt like happiness and fulfillment hasn't been present in life. Pile three, it has to feel devastating for you.

Another way that I’m reading the high priestess is that the high priestess is all about our inner calling and inner wisdom. Based on the other two cards, I would say that this is what is blocking off all this magical, inner wisdom being brought up. Meaning, we must solve our own issues to let our inner voice be shined. Seek assistance from anyone or any place that might help you becoming more aware of your inner reality.

You also got the Son of Cups and Judgement reversed. Which just reinforces what I said the previous paragraph. Son of Cups represents a charming and idealistic person that everyone loves and desires. Whilst Judgement reversed is highlighting missed opportunities and failure. Failure to be the Sun of Cups. Failure to grow past who you used to be.

Mourn your past. Accept it’s not with you anymore. Move on so you can grow. I am aware it’s easier said than done, but it still needs to be addressed.

Lamenting over who you wish you still were, or where you want to be is rather pointless. Stop wishing for something thats now unattainable for you. Look for the new you, answers and solutions for yourself. Morph into something better so that the old you would’ve been jealous of new present you. When you think about it, it’s actually good that some things cannot be changed because then there’s a plethora of options for growth and numerous outcomes for who we can be.

Now, I pulled Father of Swords, for advice for you to help you work through accepting your shadow self. This card is pretty straightforward, Father of Swords is a very authoritative and is someone who strives onward. He’s also someone who’s very logical and knows that in order for blessings we have to work and set ourselves up for blessings. He does what he has to do to get to where he wants to be. He dosn’t live in the past, he lives in the present while working for the future. Spirt wants me to tell you to do the same so you can work through your repression of your shadow.

#oracle #tarot reading #free tarot #pac reading #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarotonline #shadow work #healing

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hogwartslegacyreactions2 · 2 months

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Ok, I just found your wonderful blog and can't help myself, I have to ask for a request TwT One of my too many ideas would be: HLC's reaction - professors included - to Mc's Excuse after MC was really mean in an argument. I have an almost-Slytherin-but-then-Hufflepuff-MC, so...xD If you would like to do that - pls feel free to make it as fluffy or serious as you like - it would make me "Happy as Fig"....yes, thank you a lot! <3

A/N: I feel this one on a personal level. Let's make it soft with MC saying sorry

HLC REACT TO MC APOLOGIZING AFTER A HEATED ARGUMENT

MC: They know there's no real excuse for what they said. They could give their reasons, prescriptive and feelings at the time of the argument but they can't un-say what left their mouth. They almost wished they knew how to use the memory charm. Then they might not be standing there awkwardly awaiting the judgment from their friends and professors.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He sighs. "If we haven't been through what we have up to this point, I wouldn't accept your apology. But...we've both said things we regret. No point in dwelling." He smiles and offers the seat next to him for them to join him for study. When they sit down, he whispers out the side of his mouth. "Now, if you want me to forget, on top of forgiving you, you'll help me with my most recent relic discovery."

OMINIS GAUNT: He's been rigidly silent since the argument. MC almost walks away before he finally speaks. "I'm tired, MC. I'm tired of people hurting me. While I understand that words are difficult when emotions run high, please, don't say things you don't mean." His entire world is transcribed in sound, so people's words mean more to him than most. MC's apology better be sincere if they hope to keep him as a friend.

ANNE SALLOW: MC's apology leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, no matter how sincere they are. She's heard these types of "I'm sorry" speeches from Sebastian and her uncle before. Do they really expect her to forget everything just because they feel bad? "I'll accept your apology, on the condition that you don't speak to me like that going forward. If a conversation becomes too heated, I think at best if we take a break and let cooler heads prevail."

IMELDA REYES: "Oh, you're sorry? Go boil your head." She practically spits at them as she returns to what she's doing. She doesn't forgive easily. She's burned too many bridges in her life to care about one more. At least, that's what she keeps trying to tell herself. What MC had said really hurt and she hates the fact that they have that sort of effect on her.

NATSAI ONAI: "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have let my pride escalate things the way they did. Maybe then we wouldn't be in this position. It is big of you to apologize first. Thank you, my friend." She opens her arms for a hug. If MC isn't a hugger, she just gives them a smile.

GARRETH WEASLEY: He won't admit it to them, but he had screwed up more than one brew from accidentally crying into it. What they said really hurt and now that they were apologizing, he was struggling to keep it together. "No, I'm not- *sniff* crying. I got batwing fumes in my eyes. I....I just want us to be friends again, okay?"

LEANDER PREWETT: He didn't have much self esteem before he met MC, and now that his worst fears were confirmed by them berating him because he disagreed with them, he felt worse than ever. Hearing them apologize to him felt surreal. No one ever apologized to him. Somehow, he was always in the wrong. He feels more vulnerable than ever. "So...does this mean you don't hate me?"

AMIT THAKKAR: He stubbornly holds on to his frustration with MC. He KNOWS he's in the right. They were being unreasonable and resorted to insults out of egotistical retaliation. They surprise him when they come back. "I'll admit, I didn't think I'd see you again for a while. It takes a lot for someone to swallow their pride and admit they were wrong. Thank you, for apologizing."

EVERETT CLOPTON: He thought that was it. MC didn't want to be his friend anymore. He couldn't look them in the eye, even when they needed to tell him something important. He's stuck in his own head until he hears them say the words "I'm sorry." He snaps out of it and stares wide eyed at them. "Really? You mean it? This isn't...you're not messing with me, are you?" He needs some reassurance, but afterwards he'll forgive it easily.

POPPY SWEETING: "Well look who came crawling back." Her eyes are full of malice. This won't be an easy apology. As soft spoken as she is, her heart is hardened to people who've wronged her. It's her defense mechanism. MC will have to do more than say, they'll have to prove it.

~~~

MC's got a lot of gall to think arguing with their professors was a good idea.

ELEAZAR FIG: He knows them better than anyone else in the school. They'd come around, they just needed space. He hadn't punished them for what they said. He smiles warmly when they come back and puts a hand on their shoulder. "It takes a lot of courage to admit you're wrong. Thank you, for showing how much you've grown and matured. I know plenty of adults who wouldn't do what you've just done. They would double down, if anything else. I'm proud of you."

MATILDA WEASLEY: She had taken SO many house points. No one argues with the deputy headmistress and gets away with it unscathed. "It isn't to me you should apologize. I'm sure your housemates aren't too pleased to hear that they are now in dead last because of you. Better get to work earning those back."

CHIYO KOGAWA: "Nothing like manual labor to bring out the regret of one's actions." She had them organizing and repairing the quidditch supplies without magic. "Thank you for apologizing, now get back to it. The quidditch season may have been canceled this year, but it needs to be ready for the next."

AESOP SHARP: He gives them an indeterminate reply to their apology, but, deep down, he's impressed. While they had certainly gone too far with their argument, they apologized for making it personal. He can relate to being so passionate about something that you're willing to defend it, tooth and nail. That didn't stop him from taking house points and giving them detention. They were stuck organizing and counting the alchemy supplies.

ABRAHAM RONEN: He hadn't taken house points or given detention. While what they said was certainly disrespectful, he did not believe that the lashing of adolescence should be so strongly punished. They were clearly passionate about their argument. He only wished he could understand their point of view better. He's proud of them for apologizing and rewards them with house points.

MIRABEL GARLICK: As much as she tries to keep her teaching environment positive, she will not stand for disrespectful behavior. She takes house points and dismisses MC before she gives them detention. Her heart melts when MC returns looking so sorrowful and full of regret. She forgives everything and is willing to let bygones be bygones, just don't let it happen again.

MUDIWA ONAI: MC's boldness doesn't surprise her. As long as it was just the two of them, she was willing to let everything slide. If MC had tried doing that in front of students, she would have to make an example of them. She doesn't take house points or gives detention, merely expresses her disappointment. It must have done the trick, because MC almost immediately apologized.

BAI HOWIN: MC must have been aching to muck out the beast pens by hand, speaking to her in such a way, because that's exactly what they got. Three consecutive days of detention just to clean every single beast pen. She nods curtly when they apologize.

DINAH HECAT: She isn't phased in the slightest by MC's outburst, but her eyes tell MC they have gone too far. There's a darkness in them warning MC to back down before she puts them down. "I suggest you get to your next lesson, MC. Wouldn't want you to get lost. Hogwarts is as unforgiving as it is beautiful to those who exploit it's patience." She walks away, not particularly accepting or denying any apology.

CUTHBERT BINNS: He was taken aback by MC so fervently accosting him. He had never been spoken to in such a way by a student in life or in death. He wasn't really sure how to handle it. He gives them a nod when they eventually apologize. "Very good then. Now...in 1252, the goblins-"

SATYAVATI SHAH: She gave detention. That's where MC surprised her with their sincere apology. She narrows her eyes, searching for any sign of weakness. They passed. "I'm sure you've seen the error of your ways, but you still have to finish polishing all of the telescopes by hand."

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: They're lucky they weren't expelled for what they said. He haughtily huffs and shoos them away like they're an annoying gnat. "Your detentions start tonight. I suggest you get going." He did have slight satisfaction that they were apologetic, but that was likely only because they had detention every night for the rest of the year.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy reactions #hogwarts legacy professors #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #imelda reyes #natsai onai #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #everett clopton #eleazar fig #matilda weasley #aesop sharp

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hanibalistic · 7 months

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WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 12.0k+

warning | car crash / not edited since the first time i posted this story

note | bye-bye baby, i love you baby. more than that body pillow drabble at least.

parts | one, two, three

After the doctor bandaged your hands and did some checkup on you to make sure you had sustained no more damage from the fall, you were glad to hear that they would take up the responsibility to call Minho’s parents instead.

You could not find the energy to talk to anyone about anything—perhaps you would give Yuna an earful about what happened, but she was gone by the time you got picked up by others around the scene. Tears kept falling down your face when you were getting treated, and the doctor in charge stopped asking you if she was hurting you anymore. It was obvious that your concern lay on someone else.

How did this happen? You always thought you would be so agile and smart during emergencies. The cold water of truth once again splashed down on you, reminding you that just because you think you’d be cool doesn’t mean you would be when your thoughts turn into reality. This isn’t the law of attraction, you can’t manifest the car away and you sure as well can’t manifest peace.

You sighed, your lashes wet and your under-eye pained from all the rubbing. It had to happen this way, didn’t it? The car crash was, unfortunately, essential in your drama. If it wasn’t the kidnapping, it if wasn’t the psychotic mother, if it wasn’t even the love triangle, then it would be the goddamn car crash. And as usual, it was infuriating and you wished it hadn’t happened.

It wasn’t that you minded the car crash (you would like to not see it as a plot device so often, though). You just hoped it hadn’t been Minho who got hit because he cared enough to save you from it. And now you were left here, sitting in the hospital lobby and being haunted by all the gut-wrenching components of a drama car crash.

Broken hands, broken legs, brain dead, blindness, mute, deaf, paralyzed, coma, a sudden discovery of cancer, a sudden discovery of related bloodlines, a sudden discovery of a terminal illness. You squealed under your breath as you went down the list, approaching the most common trait of them all—amnesia.

Sure, dramas usually have this rule where all you needed to endure was one to two months of hardships where Minho would revert to hating your guts, and then he would either fall in love with you again or you would give him the magical kiss of memory revival and he would suddenly remember your past together.

But those are often so unpredictable! You have watched hundreds of dramas that spin down several different lanes, and all of them have left you heartbroken one way or another. And by now you have learned how much different it would be for you to have to experience such events by yourself! If you could cry so hard because of what those pixelated people are going through, how would you begin to cope with experiencing it yourself?

A sob forced itself up to your throat, your chest sustained the pain of holding it in for too long it felt like you swallowed too many things at once, it felt like you were suffocating. You were afraid. So far, you have skated through every event with a very humorous coping mechanism, one that never does any long-term help. But this was different, this could last forever.

No, this wasn’t supposed to be the forever you experience. You two have just begun, you two were just starting to love each other loudly and happily. You haven’t had enough yet, you wanted more time! The gate to Heaven shouldn’t be allowed to close itself at people’s faces!

“Hello? Excuse me?”

You looked up at the doctor standing in front of you and immediately stood up, wiping your eyes on cue even though you had passed the point of crying and ceasing the chaos in your head. “Yes! How–how is Minho?”

“Good. He only got a few fractured ribs, a bad concussion, and a badly scraped forehead. He didn’t suffer any damage to his internal organs and there are no signs of internal bleeding,” the doctor explained. “He just needs to rest for now, but I estimate that he will wake up sooner than expected. You can wait in his room if you want to.”

You heard everything she said crystal clear. You even went so far as to repeat it in your head. Fractured ribs and concussion, ouchie but at least there wasn’t any internal damage that always sounded so life-threatening. This should be great news, but why did it sound so suspicious to you?

“Really? You are sure, doctor?” you asked, “He didn’t like…lost his eyesight or paralyzed or… I don’t know, cancer? Amnesia?”

“This is a car crash, I don’t think it will cause him cancer,” she replied calmly. If she was annoyed at your stupid questions, she was trained well not to show it on her face. “And no, we did all the scans. There is nothing else, I assure you.”

“But I swear I saw blood back then, what does that mean?”

“He scraped his forehead when he fell. We did sutures on the wound, which is going to leave him a scar but we can try to minimize it as best as we can,” she said.

Huh, bummer. Maybe I should order another car crash.

Yeah, now wasn’t the time. My apologies.

You thanked the doctor quickly then, wanting to do nothing more than to see him. But before you could leave, she held you back and shifted through her pocket for something she intended to give you.

"The paramedic stopped me and told me to give this back to Mr.Lee when you guys went in, but I assume it is yours?” she said as she pulled out a dark blue velvet box and handed it to you.

It was a ring box, with your ring stored securely in it. You felt a rush of tears piling at your eyes again but you held them down and nodded. “Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s still for me.”

“Pretty sure it will. He wouldn’t buy you a ring if he didn’t care enough to jump in front of a car for you.” She shrugged. “His room is right around the corner, you can ask the nurses around.”

You bid her goodbye then, watching her rush away as her pager beeped. Then you returned your attention to the ring. You took it out of the box and slipped it on, admiring the way it still fits perfectly around your finger. You became his and you would always be from now on; wearing the ring is an act of taking a physical vow. Clasping the box shut, you put it in your pocket carefully before heading to where the doctor pointed you.

This was painstakingly familiar, Minho thought as he opened his eyes once again to welcome the flood of nausea and ugly ceiling lights. He hasn’t been in the hospital for a long time but he could tell he was in one from the saturated smell of alcohol and the overall sickly atmosphere. Shutting his eyes immediately after waking up, he groaned hoarsely as he recalled what events led up to this moment and realized he would have to be bedridden once more.

What a shame, you would have to take care of him again—hey, hold on a second! Where were you?

Minho snapped his eyes open, panic overwhelming the revolting weight laid atop of his body and brain. He did push you out of the way, right? He remembered he did, but he couldn’t be sure if you both were lucky enough to not have a second careless driver grace the crossroad. Or what if you bumped your head too hard on the ground and got a bad concussion? Or what if he didn’t push you far away enough for the car not to hit you?

He turned his head over to the door, wanting to call for a nurse and ask them millions of unprepared questions, but he stopped in his tracks abruptly when his gaze shivered downwards and he found you sleeping with your head on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t even registered the feeling of his hand being held by yours, the pulse oximeter and the IV on his left arm had taken away most of his sense of touch.

Calming down, Minho relaxed against the pillows and exhaled in relief. He would much rather have you here and sleeping in an uncomfortable position than laying on a bed with a heart monitor beeping next to your bed. Lowering his head so he could look at you, he softened at the way your cheek was squeezed against your forearm and the fading redness visible under your once tearful eyes. Oh, how he longed to reach out and touch you right now, the desire was immeasurable.

His mellow eyes trailed over to your hand, the one laying on the side of his legs, and he frowned slightly at the heavy white gauze wrapped around your lower palm. Getting a scrape when he pushed you away like that is likely inevitable; it got the job done, thankfully, he hoped it didn’t hurt you too much. He was promoted to move his hand when he saw yours, the one you had your own pinned down on the bed softly, and it was then when he felt the roughness of the gauze rubbing against his skin as well.

With a grimace, he looked over to where your hands were stacked on top of each other, and he held his breath when he finally noticed the shining diamond sitting prettily on your finger.

You put the ring back on.

The box must have flown out of his pocket when he got hit. He had been taking it with him everywhere recently just in case the perfect timing to give it back to you turns out to be a place where he couldn’t have access to it immediately. Besides, holding the box in his hand had always reminded him of you, and he liked being reminded of you from time to time throughout the day.

It made him feel less jittery, less annoyed at the general things, and it got him excited to return home at the end of the day.

Minho couldn’t think about anything else at the moment; all that flooded his mind was how much more fulfilling it was to see the ring on your finger rather than in the box, how things should have been this way all along, and what it all meant now that you’ve worn it back.

Forgiveness for his aloofness in the past, a firm acceptance of this marriage, and that he has become someone who can be loved by you.

His shaky eyes were filled with droplets, creating a glassy sight in his already glittery eyes. Feeling you stir on your spot, he slowly moved his head up so he could watch you wake from your slumber. Your grogginess went away as soon as you met eyes with him, and instead of an excited squeal or a surprised gasp, the only thing that glossed over you was an immense relief.

Looking at you, Minho breathed out a quiet laugh, one that even you couldn’t hear. He felt your hand around him still, but your grip more secure now. In an attempt to chase the tears away from your eyes, he joked, “Stop frowning. Your face is gonna get stuck.”

“I’m glad you still remember that,” you laughed, lightly shoving his leg as your voice echoed the room. He gave you a knowing hum as if telling you it would be impossible for him to ever forget the unfunny jokes you liked to tell around the house so much, they were practically engraved in his mind.

Sitting up straighter now, your entire demeanor became gentler. Your senses less alert, your mouth quirked into a permanent smirk, and your fluffy gaze paying a constant focus on Minho.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” you asked slowly, propping yourself up on your intertwined hands and smiling brightly up at him.

“No,” he replied.

“Who am I?”

“You are [Name]. You have bad humor, you forced pizza down my throat once, and you made me like soap opera,” he said, finding his voice back as more words gradually left his lips. And then he paused for a moment, a dramatic moment where he eyed you lovingly, watching as your brows raised in anticipation. “And I think I might be your husband.”

A joyous sob came in the form of giggle and Minho whined at the strands of tears that danced down your cheeks. He reached out to you, wanting to wipe your tears away for you, but you stopped him and told him not to move. Instead, you got up from the chair and scooted closer to the edge of the bed so you two could be closer at face level.

You slipped your arm under this head and the other reached to cup his jaw. You kissed his forehead, once and twice, then you pulled away just enough for you to look at him fully. Ah, you were so filled to the brim with affection for him; it was so new to you but so real the same time that you were not afraid of diving headfirst into it.

“I think you are my husband,” you whispered with a small nod.

He smiled. “Thank you for having me again.”

You gave him a smile before leaning down to kiss him again. This time you didn’t stop at his forehead. Your soft lips trailed down his eyes, his nose, his cupid’s bow, and before you could kiss him on the lips as you had always wished, you pulled away with a puff of nervous breath. You stared into his eyes, feeling the same longing in the way his hand found your wrist and he held onto you.

What are you waiting for? For permission? For him to get better? Go on, kiss him.

You two will be fine, you won’t hurt each other.

Pressing your lips against his tentatively, you felt a rush of adrenaline racing around your lungs. It made you feel hypersensitive, like a supernatural who could hear and see and feel beyond the human spectrum—the forced nudge of your noses, the beating in your ears, the softness of his lips, your quickened breathes, his soft locks flowing between your fingers, his grip on your wrists tightening to keep you with him.

It was all so overwhelming, the intimacy and the desperation. The emotions came in tiny waves, similar to the way the ocean feels when you stepped your feet on the shore. It drowns you out, it lets you breathe, it drowns you out again. You kiss, you breathe, and you kiss him again. No matter how many times the cycle continues, no matter how many times the seawater brushes past your skin, you get surprised by it and you keep yearning for more.

Your heart was hanging by a thread, any minute now it would leave your chest and land itself straight into Minho’s palms.

Hesitantly pulling away, you kept your mouths close enough for him to still feel you against his lips. He leaned in a little, breathing out a whine that made you realize your heart was already in his hands long ago. Swallowing down a breath, you whispered, “Do you remember, that I love you?”

He nodded, his lashes fluttering as he glanced down at your lips again and back up at your eyes, “I will now.”

Minho’s heart was yours too, long ago, and you’ve learned that.

You jolted awake in the middle of the night. Heavy breaths left your lips as you sat up against the arm of the couch. Your heart was beating quickly like you had just run a mile around the track field.

It was nothing like the way you used to be yanked out of sleep. It wasn’t like your head hitting against your desk in a boring lecture, or when you brutally died in a bad dream. This one was different. You were not falling asleep and you weren’t dreaming. It was different in a way that all you saw during your ‘consciousness’ was blackness, paired with a familiar voice you never thought you would hear again.

“Mom?” you whispered as you quickly scanned your surroundings, looking for the sight of your mother.

But you were still in the hospital room. You were sitting on the couch located at the corner of the room, with your phone and leftover takeaway food resting on top of the small table before you. The moon has gone up and the sky has turned darker than night, you glanced over and found Minho sleeping on the bed as he should.

You were back in where you were supposed to be, but your mother’s voice felt genuinely real during your supposed dream. Sitting up straighter and putting your feet down on the ground, you ran your hands through your hair to force yourself into concentration. Why did you jolt awake at your mother’s voice? There should be no reason for you to find her a threat unless you felt like you were being pulled out of this world.

Like you were falling, like you were falling out of this place, like you were leaving this world and back to reality.

“Oh god,” you gasped as you snapped your head up, your eyes wide.

Great, you were finally piecing the puzzle together, [Name]. I’m glad.

You have exhausted your one near-death experience when you almost got hit by a car yesterday. If Minho hadn’t pushed you to the side and you got hit then things would have been different; you’d be hit by the car, got sent to a hospital to get fixed, and nothing would have happened. Alas, Minho did push you out of the way, and now you have reached the limit, which was only one. If you remember clearly, the way you arrived to this world was by waking, so when you return home, you would find yourself waking up as well.

Except this time, you would be alone, and Minho never existed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeated under your breath, biting your nails in an attempt to ease out the spiraling anxiety permanent in your head. It was all hitting you too quickly—the near-death theory, the memories you have of your real life, or the lack thereof, feeling like you were being pulled out of your own body, going back to reality, leaving Minho here.

I reckon this would be better for you, actually. The anxiety keeps you awake, and the pacing around keeps you active and forces your eyes open. It would be sooner or later, though, when you find yourself dozing off due to the inability to stay awake any longer. That’s when things get bad for you because as soon as you fall asleep, you will wake up in a whole different place. A familiar place, but different, nonetheless.

Oh, but how could this be? You have just worn the ring, you two have just kissed for the first time. You couldn’t fathom the idea of being separated from Minho and you didn’t want to leave him yet! You never want to leave him ever! There was still so much for you two to do! You needed more time. You both needed more time!

“[Name]?”

“Huh–oh, hey, Minho.” You moved over to him with a smile. “Did I wake you?”

He could see the panic in your eyes and he frowned. “Are you okay? You look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep–”

“Oh, I–” Your bottom lips quivered.

How long would you be able to hide it before he finds out? How long could you stay awake and act normal for? How would you be able to explain why you always look so exhausted? Minho should know the truth, he deserved to know that you have been hiding something important from him the whole time. Besides, it would be such a shame if you leave him unprepared for your departure. He’s the one who has to remember, after all.

“I’m not leaving!”

Oh, yell at me, why don’t you?

“Hey,” Minho grabbed a hold of your hand, his brows furrowed up at you, “what is going on?”

You stayed still to pull yourself together for a few seconds, breathing slowly, and then you looked back at him. “I have something to tell you.”

He could sense the solemnity in your voice and it terrified him. You had shown him a large range of your emotions before, from playful to angry to loving, but he has never seen you look so helpless. Tugging at your hand, he kissed your knuckles softly and nodded. “What is it?”

And you told him everything, struggling to make your story coherent despite only having the absolute truth escaping your lips. You told him from the very moment when you found yourself waking up next to him, and then when you were still figuring out what to do with ‘your’ past broken relationship, to adapting quickly and blending into this world. Everything up until this point, when you were so close to forgetting where you came from only to have reality force itself back into your head again.

It was taking Minho a long time to comprehend all the information thrown at him. When it seemed like he was finally done, he moved his eyes over to you and he tilted his head with a sigh. “That is a very deliberate joke.”

Right, you should have anticipated a reaction like that. It would be too easy if he brought it immediately. You pulled a face. “It’s not a joke, Minho.”

“Oh, so you are trying to tell me you aren’t from this universe and you aren’t even who you are before you came here?” he said, confusion evident on his tired face and his voice rising as he went on. “You are basically suggesting parallel universes exist?”

“No–I mean, yeah? It could be true?” You shrugged, and then you shook your head. “The point is–I can feel myself leaving this place and I am pretty sure as soon as I fall asleep, my time will be up. I just felt like I should tell you because you deserve to know.”

Despite how serious you sounded throughout your entire explanation, he just couldn’t bring himself to take you seriously. It was too absurd, the whole concept of waking up in another place. Sure, you did suddenly change overnight and you did feel much different than you did before, and there had been certain very subtle hints that could back your point up, but it was not enough for Minho to believe in what you just told him.

“You should go to sleep, [Name]. You’ve been really tired,” he said again, trying to persuade you into going back to bed.

Disappointment flashed before your eyes. Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you looked away, unsure what else you could do to convince him. The only thing you were sure about was that you absolutely could not fall asleep, no matter how tired you were. You planned to hang on for as long as you could, and hopefully, Minho would come around and believe you by then.

“I am just gonna go take a walk and come back,” you said, smiling faintly. “You should go back to sleep though.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You can sleep with me on the bed if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

“You know I can’t,“ you said. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, you moved away from the bed slowly. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up with breakfast tomorrow morning.”

You closed the door, leaving him alone in the darkroom. Minho pouted, he was thinking too much to be able to just fall asleep now. The fact that he couldn’t just sleep sort of gave him a sense that he was leaning towards believing it and he was just in the stage of denial. If he really thought it was a joke then he should have no problem brushing it off, right?

He leaned back against the pillow, his fingers grasping at the air and his head filled.

Would you really leave? Just like that? More importantly, would he be able to tell if you left?

"Did you sleep?”

“They did not,” Changbin replied casually as he slammed a plastic bag on top of the table. Leaning down and proceeding to take out the takeaway food, he handed you a small box of food and looked up at Minho again. “They were up the whole night.”

“Did you seriously stay up the whole night?” Minho asked, brows furrowed at the unexpected visit by Changbin. He wanted to ask why he decided to tag along with you, but he figured it was much more important to know what happened with you last night.

“I did,” you sighed, shoving the chicken into your mouth and moaning at its delicious taste.

After realizing it would be almost impossible for you to stay awake on your own, which was such bullshit because you swore you used to have the ability to pull all-nighters like it was nothing, you ended up calling your last resort—Seo Changbin. Feeling bad that you had to wake him up in the middle of the night, you gave him the same explanation you gave Minho, and like your husband, he was extremely reluctant to accept it.

But you weren’t sleeping at all. And while Changbin had the suspicion that you were just taking this 'joke’ a little too far, he decided to humor you for the night and stayed up with you. And you spent the night over at his home, doing anything and everything to keep yourselves from falling asleep.

“Didn’t they tell you about the story?” Changbin asked, popping open a can of soda and looking at Minho as he drank. “I still don’t believe it but they were so hell-bent on not sleeping, I might just let them have it.”

“What–Changbin, I thought you believed me!” you whined, punching his behind and shoving him to the side.

“If I come over and tell you I’m not actually me and I came from another dimension, would you have believed me?” Changbin retorted, rubbing the spilled drink off his chin.

“I don’t have to because first of all, I met you for the first time at the shopping mall and I know nothing about you,” you pointed out. “Second of all, I am going through it right now. I am telling you, if I fall asleep, you will never see me again.”

“You don’t have proof that you aren’t you, [Name],” Minho chimed in, sighing in defeat as he slumped back against the bed.

Changbin pointed at you with wide eyes then, nodding in agreement. Sitting up from the couch, you turned your head to find Minho grimacing at you, and you heave a sigh. Proof. Where the hell would you find the proof to explain that you are who you are? Identity isn’t a tangible thing, no amount of paperwork can shape it for you.

“Look, I am telling the truth, alright? Or at least I am saying what I know,” you said as you grabbed a box and headed over to the bed. You handed the food to Minho, who refrained from throwing a mini tantrum the way he did before due to Changbin’s presence. Sitting down on the chair you had also pulled over, you sighed. “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t want to take the risk and sleep.”

You looked at Minho, your brows raising slowly to display a vulnerably honest expression. No malice was hidden behind your eyes, your gaze only directed at him. “I don’t want to leave you, Minho.”

His munching halted. He could feel a hint of unease at the bottom of his stomach, possibly due to what you said and the soft way you said it. As if you were afraid, cautious. Lowering his hand, he inhaled, kind of wishing his inner voice would kick him in the head and give him a little nudge to the right path.

But really, what more was there left to say, Minho? [Name] has said all they could.

“You are not going leave me,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “Not consciously, no.”

Minho pursed his lips. Think carefully; for him to convince himself of what you said, he has to nitpick the past and the present, like separating different colored peas with chopsticks.

Starting from the day you met him, you said you have no idea what his name is and you woke up in his bed even though he had this terrible rule of not sleeping together. That was one. Then you forgot about the marriage; you were surprised by the ring on your hand so much that you even asked him for the price. That was two. You went into his closet, even when you were banned from touching certain things that were his. That was three. These were all rules to be broken, but the old you never had the guts to do that. It didn’t make sense for the courage to suddenly appear.

Asking for a divorce and acting like you didn’t know it was arranged, forgetting that your parents were dead, completely unbothered by Yuna’s presence, suddenly knowing how to cook up a whole meal, eating lots of greasy food, profoundly cursing, being playful enough to give him nicknames and make bad jokes.

Aside from that, he could physically tell, now that he thought about it with a clearer head. You were less timid and much louder. Sure, you have your moments of tenderness, but overall you felt much more energized and much happier than before. It was a difference in your presence—you didn’t use to light up the room when you walk into one, but now all Minho could see was you whenever you come into his line of sight. And that was before he fell so in love with you.

The pieces were adding up to an unbelievable story.

Minho looked up at Changbin, his gaze hardened. “Can you leave us alone for a moment?”

You widened your eyes at his troubled look, then you turned around and urged your best friend away as well, promising to find him later when your private talk ends. Changbin rolled his eyes and unwillingly left, and then it was finally just you and him.

Minho started without waiting. “Let me recap everything. You came here not knowing who I am or what this place is?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “does this mean you believe me now?”

“Wait–why didn’t you tell me before then?” he asked.

“I thought I would leave soon and return to where I came from. I didn’t expect to stay so long,” you said. “Also, drama taught me it is better to keep my identity hidden.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “So, you suspect that the way for you to go back is through a near-death experience?”

“And falling asleep later,” you hummed. “This one I learned out of instinct, but I’m sure it’s happened before on some show.”

Minho scoffed, “You can’t trust dramas all the time. They’re made up.”

“Yeah, but this feels too much like one for me to ignore it! I mean, look at this!” You pointed at him, smiling bitterly. “Look at you! I would have never been able to snatch a guy like you if I was back in my world. I was a huge loner. All I did was work and have fleeting crushes.”

He watched as you lowered your arm, your smile dimming significantly. “Honestly, I don’t even know if you love me or who used to be me.” You shrugged, not looking at him. “I am a new person to you now, right?”

Minho licked his lower lip. That problem has never crossed his mind before since it was so obvious that he loved you. His affection was never there, it wasn’t affection for you before. But then he started developing feelings of his own for you, steaming from a threatening turn where he might lose the care and obedience he was used to receiving. He just used to like being loved by 'you’, now he liked loving you; he liked the mutual feelings you two shared.

If all were true, then there was a whole world behind you he’s never known. You previous life, your friends, your fleeting crushes.

“Come here,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

You stood up from the chair and carefully climbed onto the spot next to him. You back hit against the side rail, preventing you from falling off, while Minho pushed his hand against your waist to keep you close to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, a sigh leaving your lips quietly.

“You know, I thought you were funny, back when you first came here,” he said. “A little infuriating, yes, but amusing nonetheless.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you commented, giggling when he cleared his throat and nudged the top of your head with his jaw.

“You could have totally snatched me up even if we are not in this setting,” he said. “You aren’t like other people. You treat me differently.”

Ah, and the iconic line finally decided to make its appearance. I was hoping it’d at least happen once for you to hear it because you would only be able to hear it from Minho’s mouth.

“What do you mean different? I treat you the same way everyone treats you!” you said, suppressing a chuckle. You weren’t sure if that line had boosted your ego but it sure did make you feel quite special, as cliché as it was, but honestly? As a society, we should all establish that clichés don’t matter.

“No, you were so casual and honest. I think you are the only person who has given me nicknames aside from my old friends back in high school.” He nodded with a shaky laugh. He patted your waist in a beckoning motion, seeming excited. “And you’re even more different than others now because you are the only person I love, in that special kind of way.”

“What are you, five? Special kind of way–that’s lame!” you exclaimed, laughter escaping in between. When you quieted down, you pressed yourself closer to him and looked up.

He only glanced down when he felt your lips at the side of his jaw. And he kissed you then, leaning his head down eagerly to capture your lips. You were careful with moving around, your hand going up to stop at the nape of his neck, rubbing comfortingly as your mouths danced with each other sensually.

This could never be enough. Minho wanted more than this, he thought as he tugged you closer to him, feeling your chest against his side. This could never be enough. He wanted to do more than kissing you in a hospital bed. He wanted to kiss you under the moon, to kiss you at home, to kiss you during a spontaneous snack run at midnight. He wanted to eat junk food and get emotional about fictional characters with you; he wanted to see you read books while he worked on the side.

Minho wants you with him, always.

You pulled away, gasping a little at how teary his eyes had suddenly become. You didn’t need to ask why. You could already tell. “Do you believe me now?”

“I can’t. I don’t want to.” Minho let out a shaky breath. “If I do then I will have to accept the fact that you might leave me soon.”

A sobbing noise spiked from the back of your throat as you reached up to peck his lips. “I will try my best to stay awake for as long as I can, Minho.”

He nodded, even though the fact alone broke him, the fact that you two have to settle for 'as long as you can.’

You jolted awake again, this time in Minho’s workroom with a new book held loose in your hands.

You kept the lights on for the sake of having an awake atmosphere even though you knew very well that would do nothing to help your exhaustion. Looking up from the couch, you found it hard to just squint at the clock hanging above your head, but you saw that it was long past midnight already.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch as you kicked your legs in frustration. You were officially three days in, all three days you went without a lick of sleep. And you put in lots and lots of effort to accomplish that, such as eating, doing yoga, shopping, scrolling the internet, and indulging yourself in many new shows filled with more than seven seasons of emotions.

It was painful. Your body felt heavy and your eye bags were probably getting bigger as you went on. Your mind was slow, you zone out too much and you kept dozing off. The only thing keeping you from falling into slumber was the sickening feeling of you astral projecting out of this place.

You didn’t want to cry though. Not only would it make you feel even more exhausted, but it would also make you feel weak, and you didn’t want to feel pathetic that way if you were doing this so you could stay with the love of your life.

Huffing out a groan, you got off the couch and left the room. You were much more familiar with the house by now, you could practically walk anywhere with your eyes closed as long as you knew where you started. You walked down the hallway and stopped abruptly before a pair of doors.

Minho’s closet was as you remembered it was. Black and white, very minimalistic, with clothing racks lining up against the wall. One thing has changed, though, he has opened up a space for clothes you got him from time to time. The ones you thought he would look good in and he occasionally wears around in the house when he didn’t need to be in formal attire.

You flipped through the clothes, remembering where each one of them came from with a smile. It was quite funny as well, to see how the clothes gradually grew to be more accurate in his size with the more you brought.

Pulling a sweater off the rack, you admired the soft material by kneading it between your fingers, then you hugged it close to your chest. You brought the fabric close to your face, inhaling the warm scent you’ve gotten used to smelling on your own clothes as well.

You never tried to look into what detergent the housekeeper used to wash your clothes, but you always thought it had an artificial smell of some type of flower you have never smelt the actual scent of before. It stopped mattering now that you have gotten so accustomed to the smell. It just has the scent of a home, and home is Minho for you.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled out to control your quickened breathing. A sob threatened to break out but you muffled it with his sweater, clinging onto it like it was your life-line.

It has been so difficult for you. Staying awake beyond your limit and trying to smile with everyone else; you couldn’t even tell Minho how you felt when he asked if you were okay because a part of you dreaded that he’d let you go. You felt alone, worrying and fearing for the day you would leave this place.

Standing in his closet and having his scent so close to you pushed you past the breaking point. All you knew was that you wanted to stay with Minho, and knowing how sleep would be inevitable made you cry.

The past three days have only been about that. You couldn’t afford to think about anything else.

You stood there alone and sobbed for as long as your body allowed. When you were done, you dropped the sweater on the rack and took off your own just so you would wear it.

It felt warm, big and warm, just like Minho.

You felt another sob bubbling up.

Minho could tell you have been crying when you arrived to visit him for the night.

It has become increasingly difficult for him not to notice how worn out you were, not to mention having to neglect it and pretend as if nothing was happening. Although you were the one who was so determined to keep yourself in this place, and of course, he too wanted you to stay here, he couldn’t help the gruesome guilt that rips through his veins whenever he sees that defeated state of yours.

You were dozing off on the couch again. He could somehow feel it whenever you’ve got your eyes closed, it was like a tingly sense that shoots down his spine. Even then, he always looks over to check if you are, and you were this time, your chin squished against the base of your palm with your elbow propped up against the armrest of the couch. You were dozing and waking, an indefinite cycle that would only stop until you reach the point of insanity, he supposed.

When this first happened, when he first saw you with your eyes closed and unresponsive, he used to have this knot in his stomach that would tighten harshly in a way that makes him hallucinate pain. The fear used to make him want to throw up, it used to make his face go red and his fist curl until the nails dig deep into his skin. It feigns an anxiety attack for him, and God knows how to properly handle those.

“[Name]!” he repeatedly called for you, feeling the knot inside of him release its chokehold slowly the longer he has to call for you. But you woke up eventually, your body falling to the side and the sudden impact yanking you out to sleepiness.

You looked around and heaved a sigh, whether it was a relieved one was uncertain to everyone, including you. Turning over to look at Minho, you tilted your head and asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

Your posture was terrible, like usual but much worse now that your shoulders were hunched all over and your neck cranked in longing to take a decent break. Your body was fidgety, a habit you picked up to keep yourself active in movement so you wouldn’t fall asleep. The dark circles under your eyes were starting to get more visible than the smile Minho had always paid more attention, and there was no light in your eyes, just a pit of shadowy doom.

Maybe you were trying your best, but you couldn’t look at him like you love him anymore; your eyes physically could not manifest the affection you felt.

This was his fault. Maybe it wasn’t, you certainly would never blame him for this, but Minho still felt like he was the one putting you through all of this. And he hated seeing you so out of place because you haven’t slept in days, and for what? To get a few more days with him? Honest to God, your mind was barely with him these days anyway.

Minho pursed his lips into a thin line, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. And he shook his head. “You should go to sleep. This is killing you.”

You were quick to turn down his suggestion. “No.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to,” you said. “I don’t want to go.”

“Well, you are going to have to go either way so why not make that earlier?” he asked, raising his voice, causing your defenses to build up quickly.

You stood up from your seat, your eyes wide in a glare for the first time in days. “What is your problem, Minho? Do you want me to leave so bad?”

“I don’t–“ he breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes to keep his temper low now that yours have been shorter than usual. “I don’t want you to leave. If I get to choose, I will always choose to have you stay here with me, but look at yourself!”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re tired, you are so tired. You have been crying, you eat slow, your temper is short, you barely react to anything anybody says. Even the nurse who came in to check up on me this afternoon asked if you are okay because you don’t look okay!” he exclaimed. Then, sucking in a breath as if gargling his words, he exhaled through a soft huff before he whispered, “I love you, [Name], so much. But not like this. Not when you are so miserable because of me.”

If his existence is causing you pain then he’d rather not have it. As selfish as he wanted to be, he would choose to let you go.

Your arms dropped to your side and you rolled your eyes up. You have told him the same thing before. God, you felt like one of those female leads who cry every single episode, it was so enraging. Everything you have sought to not become, you’ve become it.

Minho moved to the side on his bed, leaving you a spot, and he called out, “Come here.”

You looked back down at him, your sight blurred at the thought of what he meant to do. You were going to walk over, he would wrap you in his arms, and you would fall asleep to his warmth. He would still be here but you would be somewhere else. It would be quick, it would happen before you even know it.

“Come here, please?” he asked again, softly. “Let me hold you.”

You rubbed your eyes and moved over slowly. He helped you as you climbed onto the bed, snuggling up next to his side with your head laid on his shoulder and his arms securely around your torso. He squeezed your arm and breathed out a joking giggle, mentioning something about you getting chubbier and earning a hit on the chest in return.

His fingers shifted through your hair when you looked up at him, and he smiled down at you like nothing was going wrong. Eyeing his lips once, you didn’t hesitate to reach up for a long, loving kiss, one where your tears were mixed with the taste of his mouth.

When you pulled away, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “This is actually pretty funny. I am the one who got injured but here we are, crying over you leaving instead.”

You laughed silently, bringing him closer to you. Minho has steady breathing but his heart beat quickly. It rattled against your ears, reminding you that he was as nervous as you were about losing each other. Your senses were shutting down slowly, ready to go into rest when you finally gain the sleep your body has been screaming at you to get.

“I’m sleepy, Minho,” you muttered, adjusting your head.

“I know. You can sleep, it’s okay,” Minho hummed. “You can go. I’m gonna be fine.”

You licked your lower lip, the dryness giving you a sticky sensation. “Love them as much as you love me, alright?”

He couldn’t do that. But he wouldn’t tell you, he wanted you to go without any troubles lingering in your head. He wanted you to leave happily, or as happy as you could be.

Kissing your forehead, he felt your breathing ease up. His hand rubbed your back soothingly as he asked, “Will you remember that I love you?”

You didn’t answer.

Minho stirred uncomfortably in the single hospital bed. As his sense slowly returned to him, he tightened his grip on you, keeping you from falling off. It was nighttime outside, and he supposed a nurse dropped by and turned the lights off when he saw you both sleeping. He could barely remember what happened before he was knocked out.

You shifted slightly by him, head nuzzling against his chest before looking up to find the owner of the body you were cuddling.

“[Name]?” Minho called.

The person jolted from their place. Feet landing coldly on the floor, they fixed their hair and took a wide step away from the bed. “Minho! I’m sorry!”

His heart dropped. There was his answer: he could tell.

Same face. Same body. Same voice.

Not you.

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned at the pain oozing at your side. What the hell happened? You could see that you were back in your room, which was weird because the last time you checked, you were on your way to work. You remembered waking up late and rushing out of your apartment, and then everything simply went blank from there.

“Oh, you’re awake! I thought you died or something!”

You sat up on your bed and furrowed your brows at your brown-haired friend. Rubbing your eyes, you yawned and scanned your room, taking in its unfamiliarity with intense suspicion before you turned back to your smiley friend and asked, “Did you move my shit?”

“I just got here like five minutes ago after your mom called me,” he deadpanned. “I was cooking you chicken porridge! She said you blacked out and slept for three days straight, you sleepyhead!”

“Three days–Chan what?” You got off your bed and headed over to your desk where your phone was. You weren’t sure why you needed to check the time, it held no significance to how you were in deep trouble with your boss for ditching work for three days. “Why did no one wake me?”

He handed you a glass of water first, seeing how frantic you appeared right after waking up in the middle of the day. You received it—snatched it—and quickly gulped down the liquid, feeling a sense of relief rush through you when the water hit your throat.

“We tried but you were knocked out cold.” He shrugged. “If you are worried about work, don’t. I talked to our manager for you already. I even exaggerated the part where you almost got in a car crash and died so you needed time to recover from it.”

The water spilled from the glass when you choked in shock. Your brows furrowed harshly as you pulled the glass away, causing more water to flow out of the cup, and you yelled at Chan, “What? I almost got in a car crash?”

He gave you a slow laugh, more concerned than annoyed that you’ve made a mess and yelled at him in the past five seconds. “You almost got hit by a car the other day when you left for work. You were looking at your phone and not paying attention. I had to pull you away from the road! Did you forget all of that?”

You placed the glass of water down on your desk, rubbing your mouth with your forearm harshly. As you brought your hand closer to your mouth, a painful scratch eliciting a yelp from you. Moving your hand away from your face, your eyes trailed up your arm and they widened when you saw the diamond ring located on your fourth finger. You cursed out loud, gaining Chan’s attention, and when his eyes moved towards what you were looking, he too mirrored your confused look.

“What is this!” you asked, looking at him.

“What is what–woah! Did you drunk buy this?” he asked, moving closer to examine the ring on your hand. “You need to return it. You’re crazy. You can’t afford this!”

“I know I can’t afford this,” you exclaimed, glaring at him in defeat. “But I swear I don’t remember ever buying this! Did you see me wearing this when I almost got hit by a car?”

Chan paused for a moment to think. He hadn’t really noticed back then, he was too busy trying to keep your phone-obsessed ass from dying. But if you didn’t have it back then, there should be no way for you to have it now. You have been bedridden, you could not have possibly gotten drunk within the last couple of days, and you would never buy a ring like that when you were sober.

“Did you steal it from someone?” he suggested, feeling the wrath of your impatience as he stepped away from you in precaution. “Oh but you couldn’t–“

“No! I don’t know where this ring came from, Chan,” you exclaimed, showing him your hands and grimacing at how perfectly it fit around your finger. “Also, can’t you humor the idea that maybe someone proposed to me?”

“Someone with the money to buy that ring? Uh, no,” he said honestly, putting his hands on his hips in a comical way.

Brushing him off, you slumped back onto your bed with your arm covering your eye. “Whatever. I’ll find out where I got it from somehow.”

“Or you can sell it,” Chan suggested.

You chuckled at the thought. Imagine the amount of money you could get from selling that ring. You did not know about diamonds but you could tell when one looks expensive. Bringing your hand up above your face, you shifted your hand to observe the ring more carefully. A weird sense of comfort rushed through you, making you relax further into your mattress. Coming after the comfort was a very bad sense of nostalgia, one that makes your heart ache for something you couldn’t remember.

“Actually, maybe I’ll keep it,” you muttered, eyes hazy the more you stared at the ring. “I think I want to keep it.”

“Okay.” Chan shrugged at the side. Moving over to your desk, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay? I need to go back to work. Lunch is over for me already.”

“Thank you,” you hummed from the bed, nodding. “I’ll come back to work as soon as I can.”

“Before you get fired, at least.” He eyed you carefully. You laid motionless on your bed, completely out of it. He nudged your feet with his own to catch your attention. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am fine, Chan.” You rolled your eyes. “Stop nagging.”

He scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay, alright?”

The nostalgia hit like a rush this time and you held down a flinch. For some reason, Chan didn’t sound so much like him when he said that, but you couldn’t tell whose voice that was. When you turned your head to look at him, your gaze shifted in rapid sequences, like frames changing on a television screen. Chan’s silhouette shifted in blurry motion into a man of slightly smaller but more visibly muscular stature. You felt your body jolt in recognition.

Recognition? Pause. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Let me rewind it.

Chan scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay.”

You sniffed away a potential sneeze, hearing Chan’s giggle from your ridiculous expression. Throwing your head back against your bed, you waved your hand at him. “Just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

You hummed loudly in response, not bothering to look up at him. When you heard the front door lock, you groaned out a frustrated sigh and turned to your side. It has been a weird couple of minutes; you almost got in a car crash but you forgot, you slept for three days and you had no idea, you got a diamond ring on your hand which you have no recollection of ever getting.

You brought your hand up and frowned. The ring was heavy on your hand and it would most likely disrupt your sleep. But there was something else—the nostalgia that was lapping at your chest one wave after another. A feeling beyond your imagination, resting against your heart carefully yet it rattles you like nothing ever has.

“Where did you come from?” you whispered to the diamond ring sitting perfectly on your finger.

You decided not to take it off.

Never in a million years did Minho think he’d end up relying on Changbin, but he has no other option due to knowing a shared secret.

“How are you feeling?” Changbin asked after he plopped down on the study room couch.

Scatters of paperwork piled on the table were deliberately placed messily to distract Minho from his worries. If his eyes were occupied, his mind may be too. Turning the chair, he eyed Changbin nonchalantly by the desk. “My spouse left me.”

“Not good. Noted!” Changbin exclaimed with a single clap of his hands. He ended up awkwardly rubbing them as they laid themselves on his thighs.

Silence emerged, much like every other time they’ve hung out together. If he could call it anything different, Changbin would consider these moments more mandatory emotional check-ups than hanging out with good friends. Not only was Minho not a good friend, not even with such a golden opportunity, but Minho was never in the mood for anything anymore. In some ways, he has reverted to his grumpy personality, only this time he knew how to be nice about it. He learned it from you.

“Do you think they’ll ever come back?”

Changbin looked up from his fiddling thumbs. Minho’s thousand-yard stare burnt holes through the ceiling, but Changbin wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the particular question he voiced. He’s done his fair share of deep-diving about parallel universes and whatnot. Understanding the theories was one thing; accepting that it has been carried out was another. It still felt impossible. Changbin was holding onto the fact that you have never jumped anywhere, and it was a figment of your imagination that you somehow could portray excellently.

A character change only takes a good performer or someone fully convinced they’re somebody else.

The light glimmered as if to add glamour to the rigid atmosphere. Changbin let his neck rest on the back of the couch, and he shrugged. “If they do, you’ll be the first person they look for.”

Light returned to Minho’s eyes. He dreamt about that day. He wondered how it would go. Perhaps seamlessly as the day you first arrived. There won’t be chances of him missing your presence; not only would you make yourself seen, but he was more than sure he would know. A radar within himself would begin blaring sirens—he would just know if you were around again. And it would be a typical day. You would be at home, and he would return home. You would have dinner, you would go to bed together.

It would finally be a normal day when you come back.

For now, the glimmer in his eyes fades.

Weeks have passed with the same weight on your shoulders. You have come around to learn how to ignore it. You have learned to distract yourself from it. You work, hang out with people, and entertain yourself with the media. But even then, the grave mistake you made to not take that promise ring off your finger kept reminding you of the shaking sentiment that often shines at the end of the day.

You have looked through different online shops to find out where you could have gotten the ring from. It was a long stretch. You knew it would take ages to find the actual shop, but the promise of long-term confusion somehow assured you that you would have an excuse to keep it with you longer.

It has been weeks, though, and your hope was thinning. You could not find any matches, even after you personally headed over to the shops and asked the staff to take a closer look. You even went so far as to search for the lesser-known brands that would still make rings with diamonds as sparkly and extravagant as the one you got. Nothing, it was like the ring was custom-made, and that made you feel worse about having it.

It must have been really important to the owner, you reckon. It should not be in your hands.

“I feel bad for keeping it,” you spoke to the phone, where Chan sighed on the other side, most likely from irritation. The ring was all you talked about these weeks, aside from occasional work problems and drunken confessions you weren’t afraid to make to him.

“Then sell it.”

“But I don’t want to sell it.”

“Then what do you want to do? I keep giving you suggestions, and you keep shooting me down,” he complained with a helpless whine.

“I want you to tell me what to do!” you exclaimed.

“I say sell it,” he said.

“I don’t want to sell it.”

“I’m hanging up. I can’t take this abuse anymore,” Chan threatened with a yell of frustration. You could imagine him leaning against his chair and pushing it away from his desk, his eyes squinted into moon-shaped smiles, and his nose scrunched up in defeat.

“It’s just… this stupid ring is giving me weird vibes!” You stopped before the road and glanced down at the ring. “I feel sad but also happy when I look at it! Like some sort of deja vu!”

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while,” he said. “Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is.”

You frowned. Chan was no help at all. From your peripheral vision, you could see that people had started to cross the street, so you followed suit quickly, intending to not block the road and be yelled at by some caffeine-deprived stranger who hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep yet.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears.

A stranger reached their hand out to grab a fistful of your shirt so they could yank you back to safety. The pull was strong and panicky, like back when you were younger, how your mother would smack you after you did something wrong, but much harder than that. Your gaze wobbled when your head hit a slight whiplash at the force, the sky welcoming your view. Tears unnaturally welled in your eyes as your hands waited for the impact of the ground.

“No,” you whispered, the blur of a car crash disappearing from your memories. “Minho–“

Minho? Again? Hold on. Let me rewind again.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before the sight of incoming cars made you freeze.

A stranger reached their hand out to—

No, [Name]! Wrong! Nothing happens to you! How did you manage to get yourself stuck in a near-death situation twice in a row? What is this, some kind of manifestation theory? Don’t joke around. Let me rewind!

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You jumped out of the way with a scream, missing the car by a few inches. It scraped past you, causing your body to fall back. Instead of catching yourself in the slow fall, you let your body flail about in the air as more cars slowly closed the distance between themselves and you. Pedestrians standing on the road couldn’t do anything out of sheer intimidation, born from the cars speeding toward you. You looked toward where the honking came from.

I can’t keep doing this. It’s your muscle memory, isn’t it? Damn biology. I really–let me rewind.

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while. Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is,” Chan said. “Look, you’ve been thinking about this too much. How about we go get a drink tonight?

“I don’t know, Chan,” you muttered with a sigh. “I’ve been feeling really depressed lately.”

“I’m surprised you don’t think I can tell,” he said. “How about this–I’ll buy some drinks, and we’ll hang out at yours. Beats heading outside, right?”

You closed your eyes. That could work. One of the biggest reasons the outside was so unappealing was that you had to step foot into it. Even now, with the sun shining down on your head, you’re quickening your pace so you can go home. If Chan was willing to go through the trouble of paying for drinks and hauling them to your apartment, you’ve got no complaints. It might be an excellent way to forget about this whole deja vu situation, too.

“Deal,” you confirmed with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Chan giggled from the other side, but he didn’t say anything.

Wait, why didn’t he say anything?

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

What? What happened? Why is this sequence repeating itself? I scratched that off the document!

You snapped your head up from looking at the ground. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you—stop! Pause! Pause!—Should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road entirely, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears—why are you trying to kill yourself? Can’t you just let me continue with this, [Name]?

You could see the cars coming, but your feet wouldn’t move. Your eyes stared through the danger into a beacon laid far away, the illusion of a man’s face you should have forgotten. His name echoed silently through your mind, but his warmth remained on your body, in the shape of your arms and the weight on your finger.

I cannot… I do not have the power to erase what your body—your heart—chooses to remember, only that of your mind. If your first instinct is to go home and return to Lee Minho, I’m afraid I have no power to stop you besides rewinding time and hoping for a change.

Let me… let me rewind.

May you two have a joyous reunion… and… thank you for this lesson.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears. Scared, your knees gave away, and you fell backward.

The screams of others and the urgent car honks were blocked out from your ears. You turned your head to the side and saw a truck running down the road towards you. This one would kill you, you would close your eyes, and you would leave this place. Your lips quirked uncontrollably.

You would go back to him.

The mesh curtains stayed the same, useless against the sun but pretty with it. The bedsheet was as you felt it the first time, soft and silky yet thick and warm, the ones that make you sleep like you were in a goddamn coma. And Minho was the same as you last remembered seeing him—fluttery lashes, soft brown locks, and naturally pouty lips.

You remembered.

You pursed your lips into a tight smile to keep a laughing sob from bubbling up your throat. Staring at him, you realize he made you feel the same as you last remembered, and immeasurable affection pulled at your fingertips, longing for a touch of his gentle skin and to feel him close to you. And you did, unapologetically, caressed his face with the back of your fingers.

Perhaps it was a deliberate plan to wake him up, but you wouldn’t admit that to yourself.

Minho stirred in his sleep at the touch. His brows furrowed before he opened his eyes, and when he saw you, his frown only deepened. You (or, well, ‘you’) have never tried to attempt this before, nor has he ever asked for love from them. His mind was occupied by somebody else, someone he thought would never come back to him ever again. Feeling this, having his cheek tenderly stroked in the morning, was surprising and weird.

“Hey, Minho,” you whispered, pinching his cheek slightly.

A shiver so strong it felt like a lightning zap ran down his body. His eyes widened slowly in recognition. He would know. He would just know. Through looking at you, through the feeling of your skin, through the way you space out your words, through the way you control your tone, through the way his ears react to your voice, through everything. He would know. He would be the first to know.

His eyes moved across your features. You looked the same as he had always seen you, before and after you left. But there was one defining difference he could make: the ring on your hand wasn’t there before. You had taken it with you after you left this place, and now it’s back.

“[Name],” he croaked out, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, gripping it gently.

“I’m home.” You nodded with a smile. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you I’ll be late.”

The tears flow freely down his cheeks. It has been extremely difficult for him to revert to his usual lifestyle and pretend to be in love again. He had tried to bring himself to like ‘you,’ but it was useless. They simply felt different despite looking the same as you.

He had missed your stupid jokes, the way you could come back home with bags of clothes he rarely has the chance to wear, and the food you cook. The little recurring moments he loved with you, he replayed them every night in the room and didn’t dare to allow himself to forget you.

You took the initiative and moved closer to him. Your palm was flat against his cheek now, and after you lovingly nudged the tip of your noses together, you leaned in to give him a long-awaited kiss. He melted against you, against your lips and your hand, with desperation in each curve of his mouth. He felt like he couldn’t let go. He knew he couldn’t let you go this time, never again.

Reluctantly pulling away, your dazed eyes stared right back into his. You touched his face again, smiling. Minho cupped your hand in his, pressing his forehead against yours with a light whisper, “Do you remember who I am?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Who am I?”

The sun shone from outside, casting a ray of warmth at an empty ring box located at the corner of the desk.

“You are Lee Minho,” you said, giving his lips a peck. “You are my husband.”

And you remembered that he told you he loves you, just as you love him.

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olderthannetfic · 6 months

Note

I remember when I was first getting into kink, I really fell for the "slippery slope" nonsense. I would find something in fiction that I thought was the coolest hottest, most extreme thing I'd ever seen and I'd love it, and then I'd follow a trail of links from that to something a little more extreme and thing that was the hottest, most extreme thing I had ever seen and I'd love that. Etc etc.

So I started wondering when does it stop? Surely, I'll just keep ramping up the extremity until I'm wanking to stuff that's well beyond what I actually think is hot, and surely at some point the only remaining threshold of extremity will be to take it into real life and start doing hurtful things to real people.

But it doesn't work that way. The escalation I was seeing was simply a discovery process of starting low and working up until I actually found my comfort threshold, and it didn;t take any effort to stop there because once I found it that was where I settled in.

It turns out that nothing is really too extreme for me in fiction (barring a few odd squicks that have nothing to do with extremity) and that I enjoy very light BDSM in real life. The "slippery slope" was just a methodical, no-surprises way of figuring that out.

Hah. Yes.

It's also really funny to me because I think 99% of shippy fic is basically the same template with different set dressing:

The OTP does some kink that they're both into or at least both into by the end of the fic. Everyone ends up okay.

Or maybe it's about trauma, but it's very much in that woobiefic way where the reader and author are clearly super into the character and like watching them hurt because that's their fave.

Many a normally-squeamish fan is shocked, shocked I say, to discover that they like extremely bloody stories as long as they're about Deadpool or Jack Harkness doing freaky things with no consequences. Turns out, it isn't snuff or maiming that's the issue: it's sad endings.

But show that same fan some of the brutal superheroine depowering noncon from amateur erotica sites far outside of AO3's sphere, and they'll often recoil. Here, the vibe is sometimes that the audience likes watching the protagonist suffer because they hate them instead of because they love them, and ending in trauma and horror is the point. (Still doesn't make you a serial killer, but the vibe is definitely different from your average AO3 fanfic.)

A n00b to kinky stuff will often focus on the presence of blood or piss or a technical lack of consent more than on the underlying psychological aspects and so will see certain stories as radically more extreme than the last where I would see basically the same dynamic at the same intensity with slightly different props.

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glupikrol · 2 months

Text

uhm.... sekaistuck

Here's my analysis of n25's classpects, I also made art of them, and changed the godtier designs a bit to fit them better, made it a bit more personalized.

Kanade - Sylph of Time

Sylph is a class that heals with their aspect, or creates the aspect in others.

One of the symbols of the aspect of time is music.

So you probably know where I'm going with this, Kanade wishes to save as much people with her music as possible, no matter the cost, even if it takes a toll on her physical and mental health. She spends as much time as possible on composing, to get more time she consumes energy drinks and eats instant noodles.

Sylphs have natural understanding of their aspect - Kanade is a composing prodigy, at the age of 10 she was making better music than her father, and in area conversations it's revealed that she's a living timer, she knows exactly when the light will turn green because she counts the seconds and never misses.

When she promised Mafuyu to keep composing for her, it made Mafuyu keep trying to look for her true self. So in classpect terms, she literally created more time for her. Her music also brings comfort to thousands of n25 listeners, keeps them going. Kanade is a patient person too, she has no problem in giving Ena more time to work on her art if it means it'll be better, in this case she's the most understanding in n25.

Mafuyu - Maid of Void

Maid is a class that is burdened by their aspect, and is also 'made' of it. It's often interpreted as a class that creates their aspect for themselves.

The aspect of Void symbolises emptiness, nothingness, the unknown, shadows, secrets, lack of meaning, but also infinite potential and hidden talents. It's an aspect of people lost in the dark.

So the Maid of Void creates nothingness, is made of nothingness, and is burdened by nothingness, which sounds weird but actually fits Mafuyu very much. She literally created empty SEKAI from her true feelings - how cold and empty she feels. She also keeps n25 and her true feelings a secret from her mother. And regarding the burden of nothingness - she is tired of not knowing who she is, she is tired of coldness and emptiness she feels in her chest.

But I don't think Mafuyu hates what void represents, she likes the calm and quiet of empty SEKAI, she cares about her empty aquarium, she does find some comfort in nothingness, it's just the fact that there's too much of it.

But it's not all sad and gloom, Void is hidden potential and talents, which Mafuyu has tons of, to the point it makes Ena jealous.

Ena - Prince of Space

Prince is someone who works hard and relies on outside validation. Basically Ena.

Space is associated with arts and crafts, it's about creating material stuff you can touch.

I don't have a coherent analysis here, just trust me bro. I really can't explain my thought process here as well as I want, so I'm just leaving you the short classpect description, check out the sources if you wanna know more about the classpect.

Mizuki - Knight of Heart

Knights are people who put up a front to hide their weaknessses and insecurities. They're also the guardian of their aspect.

Heart is an aspect of identity, Heart players live rich inner lives and are invested in self-discovery, they tend to be dramatic and often struggle with being misunderstood.

Mizuki does everything they can to hide their problems under their bubbly personality, they don't want to be too bothersome to others. When Ena is worried about them, Mizuki feels like they're a bad person. They've been hurt in the past, and struggle with anyone getting too close, essentially, guarding their Heart.

It may be hard to notice at first, but Mizuki is one of the most emotionally intelligent characters in the cast. They did self-discovery, they do self-retrospection, and in turn they understand other people better. They're quick to pick up when something is wrong, or when someone feels down - they see the little things. Mizuki was the first character to notice mafumom's weird behavior too.

Sources:

@classpect-navelgazing - My main source, I recommend checking them out because their theory is different than the classic view of the classpect and is pretty interesting. Very well made too! I think their aspects descriptions are better than the canon ones lmao.

@dahniwitchoflight - I used some of the elements of their theory too - most notably the bits about Maid and Sylph class. Good to check them out if you're interested!

The extended zodiac quiz - It has a lot of problems and I don't consider most of it canon, but the moons description and time's description are fine imo.

These sources are condtradictadory, yes, and while reading them you might notice that I didn't stick to some of the descriptions that much, but doing this little analysis I kept in mind that in the end the classpects are more about the vibe than anything else (but also not really, you see, it's complicated)

#sekaistuck #project sekai #pjsk #homestuck #kanade yoisaki #mafuyu asahina #ena shinonome #mizuki akiyama #sylph of time #maid of void #prince of space #knight of heart #classpect

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fragcc · 1 year

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I need Kon to go through a crisis thinking he’s homophobic because why else would he want to throw up at the sight of Tim and his boyfriend kissing. It goes on so for long until Martha Kent has to sit Kon down and talk it out with him. Then Kon goes through a brand new crisis of being in love with his best friend who has a boyfriend

OMG ANON YES YES YESSSS!!! I want kon to be SO jealous that everyone (including himself) thinks he's homophobic just for him to find out that he's just timberphobic, actually. Okay, hold on, hear me out:

Everyone gradually growing annoyed and offended by Kon's poorly hidden disgust/annoyance whenever he sees Tim with Bernard to the point they take him to a corner and straight up accuse him of being an homophobe and he just p a n i c s

And we all know Kon has only like, two braincells, so he'll be so desperate because it really looks like he's an homophobe deep down but he doesn't want to be because he never would wish harm to Tim or be disgusted by him but whenever he thinks about Tim kissing his boyfriend he feels sick and so damn frustrated

Anyways, Ma Kent will eventually sit down with him to try and understand why he's so repulsed by the idea of homosexuality and he'll also try his best in the conversation because he also wants to know if he can just grow out of it. So Martha will slowly coax the nature of his feelings out of him, asking him if he would be bothered if Tim married Bernard, to which he replies with a hard "no." but his face is clearly contorted in a repulsed scowl by the idea

It all starts making sense when Ma makes a different approach to the subject, asking instead how Kon would feel if Tim was interested in him. What if Tim wanted to share a milkshake with him? What if he wanted to cuddle for movies with him? What if he was in love with Kon-El? Would that also be a problem for him? And then Kon is staring at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, heart thundering and cheeks flushing as he replays over and over again the images of Tim and Bernard cuddling and being cute with each other, but replacing Bernard with himself. And suddenly–

Suddenly he finds everything so much more bearable and enjoyable. It's like the whole cosmos aligns itself when he thinks about Tim kissing him instead of Bernard, about him being the one who gets to wrap his arms around Tim's middle and lay kisses on his neck to hear him squeak so adorably. He feels euphoric with the thought, like his heart is about to explode at this new discovery. He looks back at Ma with wilde eyes, like a deer caught in headlights, only to find her looking at him with a small, proud smile full of understanding.

"I think– I–" He gulps down the throat that forms on his throat, feeling his fingers shake with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He looks down at his boots, thinking one last time about the prospect of Tim smiling lovingly at him before he breathes out the rest of his confession. "I think I would be okay with that."

The silence that follows his whispered confession is a welcoming one and he can feel Ma's approving eyes on his skin. And it all feels a little bit crazy, because Kon just realized he isn't really an homophobe. No, he just happens to hate the guy Tim is dating because he wished it was him instead and–

Oh no.

"Shit." He curses, face paling once again. Ma frowns at him, reaching out to touch his hand in reassurance but it does nothing to placate Kon's crumbling heart. "Shit, Ma."

"What is it, Kon?" She asks ever so caringly.

"I might be in love with him, Ma" Kon whispers to her, so ashamed of saying the words out loud. It hurts the elder woman to spot clear tears slowly filling those usually bright, blue eyes. "I might be in love with my best friend who's already taken. I think I ruined everything."

And before his thoughts spiral out of control, Martha has already wrapped him in a warm and placaring embrace, murmuring to him that it's okay. But Kon knows it isn't. Things will never be okay if he can't get his shit together and start feeling happy for Tim's happiness.

Oh boy. You really can't have everything, huh?

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elsaellaelys · 11 months

Text

We can beat any shit together

summary: JJ finds scars on Y/N's thight and they don't look like an acidente.

pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!depressed reader

WARNINGS: Depression, anxiety, mensions of SH, kinda angst, but comforting.

800 words

a/n: I had to write about this. If you're going through something like that, look for help, someone you can trust, if you don't anybody call 211 or feel free to send a message. I wish somebody had told me this so I'll tell you. You are not alone.

--★--

JJ knows Y/N for as long as he can remember himself. Sweet John B's neighboor, living just down the road, joing all the times Big John took them to go fishing. He really liked her, the way she never judge him, always so kind and gentle, than he decided to take the self obligation to protect she no matter what - she looked like such a cute china doll and he wouldn't let she break. The pogues made fun of his behavior. Gotta pick her up from work! Gotta drop her at work! Save this for Y/N! No pickles, Y/N doesn't like it. He had to repay all the love she gave him, the love she made he feel. She barely realised it though, walking around with JJ just in front clearing her way, making sure there was no thorns.

That's why the discovery stabbed him right in the chest.

They were all on the beach, had just left the water to lay in the sand. Y/N stretched out, not really caring about putting a towel under, dead tired from the surfing. JJ watched she lay like a star, he couldn't help but stare at her, of course he had seem her in a bikini thousands of times, lately it's being different, hips wider, waist defined, boobs hanging in her top and thights... looking like they're melting?

"What's this?" He lean over, running his finger over the strange blur, skin color staying in his fingertip. She recoiled from his touch trying to hide the marks that appeared, eyes starting to water.

"Y/N?!"

She squirmed, hating to have the attention of the entire group now.

"It's just a little bit of foundation" she replies.

"Why you're putting makeup on your thights?" Kiara asks, face looking scared of the answer. Y/N wiped her leg, deep dark scars full on display.

JJ fliched, they were so deep, almost screaming sadness and pain. A nott formed on his throat just thinking about how much it must have hurt, how grotesque it looked. He looked back to her face, not finding the strength she must have to do something so... I mean she wasn't just cutting, that was mutilating.

"Fuck" She cried, she ruined the moment, it was a nice day, it felt okay, especially after she putted the right green concealer, the scars almost fading under it. The thought of the washing water faded from her mind.

"Tell me it was an acident, please."

"Does it look like one?" Y/N replied.

She wished they had caved the enourmous hole JJ suggest cause now she could bury herself on it. Pope's face looked full of pity like Kiara, John B. was confused - she made it herself? - but JJ, he was hurted, and she lightly pinched her arm for causing it.

"I'm sorry. I wanna go home." the girl said, grabbing her stuff, heading to the Twinkie. JJ followed her, trying to take her bag to care it.

"Wait." he begged, not really reaching her steps.

"No! JJ! Stop! Leave me, I just wanna go home"

"Give me the bag. Let me help you"

"You can't help me!"

It was not about the bag. She stopped, she fell, holding her knees close to her chest, crying the heart out. Lucky no one was around. JJ lowered next, stroking her hair.

"It's okay" he whispered.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she repeated over and over.

"Hey, no, don't be. I am the one who should be sorry. Look at me." his hands reached her face to pull it up seeing her wet lashes. "Sorry I didn't realized before" he begged again, because the memories just hitted him. The way she was always complainnig about the fights her parents were having, but still refused to leave the house, how she was tired all the time, even though she just woke up. Too many alcohol, to many cigarettes, less hangouts, less calls, less partys, much thoughts, much silence.

He fastly wiped the tears down his face holping she didn't noticed, just hugged she tightly.

The pogues approxed and they were hugging she too, whispering sweet nothings. Sweet everythings.

John B. was the first to get up holding his hand out for her.

"Let's go home." he says. They all know where is home.

In the ride JJ made sure he held she close, hand on her pulse, time in time putting his nose between her hair, just to know she's there, safe, with him.

"Can I ask you..." he carefully began "Where is the thing... you used?"

"In my bag, the little left pocket."

JJ almost cried again, for knowing that she cared it around, like a thing she needed close. He found it, trew it out tge window.

"You're going to be fine." he reasured "I'm right here. We can beat any shit together."

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank comfort #obx fanfiction #tw depression

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dreamingofep · 1 month

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 27🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of killing, ANGST, SMUT, mentions of blood/ gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: Hello everyone!! Thank you for your patience! This part has a lot to uncover so get ready! Lots of new back story of Alexander and Iris and new discoveries have been made that you're not going to like...🫣Thanks for continuing to be so enthusiastic about this story!

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

The air felt tense like everyone in here was holding their breath as you and Elvis walked in the room. Elvis tells Jerry to wait outside and he gladly obliges. Iris and Alexander sit next to each other on the long couch and you go to take a seat in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Elvis doesn’t sit down, he stands right beside you and places his hand on your shoulder to try to calm you. You couldn’t completely relax though. You were too anxious to see what these people had to say or if they were even telling the truth.

You look at them expectantly, waiting for them to start the conversation. You direct your first question to Elvis instead.

“Where did you go?” You ask in a hushed tone.

He sighs heavily, seeing how much you’re hurt, and kneels next to you to get closer.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was gone for so long…I went all over the country. I was trying to find anyone who might have a clue where I could find older vampires. Ones that would be more well-versed in such matters we are facing. I ran into dead ends everywhere I went. I went to New York, Louisiana, all the way back to California even but had found nothing. I couldn’t give up though.” He explains.

“I then went to Colorado, one of the final places I decided to stop at. I met one of my buddies I know out there, he’s also one of us. I told him what I was looking for and how I wasn’t having any luck. He knew about some old vampires that lived in the mountains, far away from any town, and were essentially recluses.” He chuckles looking at Iris and Alexander snarkily. They throw daggers back at him and stay silent.

“It wasn’t easy finding them. It took me hours to get through the mountains and get past the traps they have set up for wandering hikers,” he quips.

“Yes that’s the whole point of living out of reach of people, so no one can find us,” Alexander grumbles.

Elvis has a smile on his face and continues to speak, “Well, their traps weren’t that effective since I’m in one piece. But they did not like trespassers, they tried to hurt me and get me off their property,” he snickers. You didn’t laugh though. Every hair on your body felt like it stood up and your blood boiled. The very idea of anyone trying to hurt him made you angry beyond comprehension. You hate the idea of anyone hurting Elvis or even laying a finger on him.

You grip the arm of the chair tightly, your anger getting the best of you.

“Did either of you lay a finger on him?” You say through your teeth. They shift uncomfortably in their seats as they look at each other. They clear their throats and take a deep breath before speaking.

“Well, y/n, you have to understand, we don’t like intruders coming near us. We didn’t know who he was-,” Iris starts to explain but you don’t let her finish, your anger getting the best of you.

“What the hell are you even talking about?! He’s Elvis Presley! The most famous man on the planet!” You snap. Elvis puts his hand on yours, squeezing it lightly.

“Honey, they’re telling the truth. They had no idea who I was before telling them. They don’t own a single TV or a radio,” Elvis tells you.

You’re absolutely shocked. You had never heard of anyone before such a recluse they don’t know who Elvis is. Even his name is eye-catching and different, you can’t believe the name doesn’t even ring a bell for them.

You try to relax a bit and focus on Elvis to calm you down.

“What did you do to convince them?” You ask.

“I tried to talk to them at a distance, try to explain our situation. Nothing really convinced them til they saw my eyes. They trusted me a bit more after that. The harder part was getting them to leave with me. They aren’t exactly adventurous…” he says slyly. That earned Elvis another death glare from the both of them. You throw them the same look and they get the message.

“So do you believe us? Are you going to help us or continue to be difficult,” you question. You knew it sounded harsh, but you weren’t going to have these people in your house if they weren’t going to help you two figure out some things about your new vampire lives.

They take a deep breath before speaking and look at you both.

“Yes, we believe you. The way you protect Elvis is a huge indication that you have a bond. We just haven’t met anyone like us in a very long time,” Alexander says gently.

Considering how they are so isolated, you aren’t too surprised they haven’t been in contact with any other vampires. Let alone any other bonded ones.

You relax a bit, trying to give these people a chance and not get too upset.

“How old are you both then? When was the last time you met someone like us?” You ask.

They smile at each other and hold each other’s hands.

Iris speaks first, “I’m meant to look twenty years old but in reality, I’ve been on this earth for seven hundred and fifty years. I’m originally from Spain where my family was royalty and very powerful. I’ve only met another Chosen pair twice in my life. We are extremely rare you see,” she says directing her attention to Alexander to start talking too.

“I’m the same age too. I’m from France though. Our regions had religious tensions in these times and I was a knight fighting for my country. I was a young man then, only nineteen at the time. But I saw her face in the grand throne room and I never was the same after seeing her,” he says sweetly looking at Iris.

“Did you know she was meant to be with you? Did you feel the connection?” You ask him inquisitively.

He chuckles softly at you, “I wouldn’t know. I was just a human then. I just thought she was distractingly beautiful,” he explains.

You look back at Iris with a smug smile on her face. You don’t know why you assumed he was a vampire first but you kind of feel embarrassed for jumping to conclusions.

“Oh, I’m sorry for assuming things. How were you turned then, Iris? Did you feel the connection with him?” You ask.

“I was turned when I was on my death bed, a lot like how Elvis was from how he explained it to us. It was common at that time to catch smallpox and there was no cure. It was brutal and anyone near you would undoubtedly catch it. I didn’t want to die. I begged my mother and father to do anything. Hire someone that could cure me,” she tells you.

“At this time, it was looked down upon to go against the church's beliefs or practices. Dark magic was shunned by anyone in the country but it was still being heavily practiced. I heard from many people that there were people on the outskirts of town that would practice it and they could cure anyone that came to them. I begged my parents to get one of them to help me. I felt death closing in on me with every breath. As much as they hated the idea, they didn’t want me to die. I was engaged to a prince in England and there was too much to be lost if I suddenly passed away. They were willing to risk the chance of someone finding out that dark magic was being practiced in the palace walls.”

You were shocked by her story. She was royalty at one point and no one now knows the true story of what happened to her. All except for you and Elvis now.

Iris continues, “They found a healer and snuck him into the palace late at night. I was getting weaker by the second and barely remembered how it happened… but I remember him asking to save me. I remember how cold he was. He felt like ice to me but I thought it was because I was so weak. He leaned in close and told me he’d give me a gift, one that would let me live forever. I thought he was crazy but I permitted him to do what needed to be done to save me. I wasn’t expecting the bite, I was expecting some sort of magic spell or something. It was excruciating as you are aware of, but after the pain of the bite resided, my body felt stronger than ever.”

“He then took me away from the palace, out of the way from harming any humans, and learned how my new abilities worked with the others that lived outside of town. I learned how to control my thirst and how to feed without hurting anyone. I was gone for a month and everyone was worried sick about me. But I eventually returned to the palace and assured everyone I was fine and better than ever. I compelled most of them that I wasn’t gone as long as they remembered to help me get back into normal life.”

You and Elvis were enthralled by her story. Some of her stories paralleled Elvis’ too. They were both so desperate to live. They didn’t know the ramifications of this choice and how it would alter their entire existence. You had so many questions for them, especially how they have been living like this for so long.

“That’s truly incredible. I’m so glad you had guidance from them. What happened after all of that? Did you marry the prince after all?” You ask.

She laughs amused and shakes her head, “Well, almost. I was a few days away from marrying the prince and then he walked into my life. I knew the moment I saw him,” she blushes.

“So did I,” Elvis says softly. You look up at him in awe. It was the first time he said it to you. It was shocking to hear from his lips but it made your heart feel so happy and overjoyed.

“So you know what I’m talking about then. That instant feeling of happiness and the pull to be closer to them,” she explains to both of you. “I had that with Alexander. The second I saw him, I thought he was the most beautiful man to ever exist.”

Alexander squeezes her hand and smiles at her.

“I thought she was beautiful too. Everyone thought she was beautiful so I didn’t think much of it when I wanted to be closer to her. Thought I was just like everyone else,” he chuckles.

“When did you know it was something more?” Elvis asks.

They both look at each other and have this sly look on their faces.

Oh… you remember that moment it became so much more intense between you two.

“Well I… I invited him to my room to talk to him. His scent lured me even more and I wanted to be extra close to him. It wasn’t until I touched him… and kept touching him that I realized there was so much more here. My body wanted him to please me beyond my wildest dreams…He became my new obsession I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wanted to have him locked in my bedroom at all hours of the day. That was my plan actually, to keep him there til I had my fill and make him forget all of it. But as you know Elvis, you can’t compel them to forget anything,” she says heartily.

They both laugh at the notion and Elvis nods his head in agreement.

“Did you feel similarly with y/n Elvis?” She asks him.

He pauses and looks at you, analyzing your eyes and dragging down to your back and your chest. He takes a slow breath in before speaking.

“Yes, very similar. The pull she had on me from the start… all of that was the same. I tried not to touch her though. I didn’t want to repulse her. I tried to protect her from myself in any way I could. I was so starved I was so afraid I’d hurt her if I tried to take a bite.”

“But what changed…” Alexander asks him.

Elvis shifts uncomfortably and bites the inside of his cheek.

“Well uhh… I got upset at her… for something stupid that was my fault anyway. But something changed in me. The way I needed her…The way I needed her physically… it was so overwhelming,” he admits. He looks over at you longingly but adverts his eyes elsewhere to not be distracted. The more you learn about the first few days with Elvis will never not shock you. You didn’t know what he was feeling or what he wanted. He was smitten by you long before you accepted the truth.

Iris and Alexander exchange looks and nod their head in agreement.

“That’s how it goes. You don’t want to leave their side or anything,” Iris agrees, “I felt the same thing. It only makes it worse if you have them intimately,” she adds. You watch as Elvis squeezes your hand slightly at that comment.

“How did you tell him what you were?” You ask changing the subject.

“Once I realized I couldn’t compel him to forget anything, panic slightly set in. I knew one of our rules was for humans to never find out about our existence. It scared me and I didn’t know what to do. I went to the man who turned me, looking for guidance. I told him the problems I was facing with Alexander. He looked at me like I grew a second head. He knew the second I started to describe the feelings I had for Alexander made him my Chosen. I never heard of what that was. He had met many others like us but for them, it took centuries to meet their Chosen. After wrapping my head around that all, I went to find Alexander and told him the truth, I showed him my fangs and reassured him I wouldn’t hurt him. But I had to explain the bond, the connection we shared was more powerful than anything in this world. He accepted me for who I was and eventually let me feed on him. It seems like we got very lucky that we didn’t need to wait for centuries for each other,” she quips proudly.

Elvis looks at you lovingly, “we are lucky,” he coos.

“How did you tell her Elvis? Were you scared too?” Alexander asks.

Elvis instantly gets uncomfortable, letting go of your hand and standing back up. He fidgets with his rings, not looking at anyone in the eye when he speaks.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell her…” Elvis admits. He looks so uncomfortable telling this to these strangers in his living room.

“She walked in on me feeding off of a girl in my bed,” he admits.

Iris and Alexander exchanged shocked looks. You felt the room grow very quiet and uncomfortable. You didn’t want to relive that moment, it was hard to deal with. Everything changed in that moment. If you had actually listened to him and didn’t go in his bedroom, many things would have turned out differently in this journey… you couldn’t help but wonder the alternatives…

“How could you do that to y/n?” Alexander snaps at Elvis. Elvis shoots him a death glare, it petrifies everyone in the room.

“It’s not like I got any enjoyment out of it, believe me,” he snarls.

“But how could you still do that? You knew that y/n was meant for you and you still fed off of someone like that,” Iris presses.

“I couldn’t admit to her or myself that this sort of thing was real! I thought it was a legend! Something that happened a long time ago but doesn’t happen anymore,” he seethes. He steps away from you, seeing how his emotions are getting the best of him.

“Every time I fed off of someone, all I could think of was how she tasted! How bad I wanted her and only her. So don’t look at me like I'm some kind of ruthless monster. I hated myself for doing it. How I’d have her in my bed only hours ago and try to forget how much I needed her by drowning myself in someone else.”

It felt like your heart stopped. This new confession was shocking, to say the least. Nothing prepared you for the truth of what he might have done when you weren’t with him. His eyes looked sorrowful as he looked at you. It hurt you so much to see him be this way.

“How often would you do that…” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, “Baby please,” he whimpers.

“Just tell me. I can’t go back in the past and change it so it doesn’t matter. I just want to know the truth.” You say firmly.

“One too many times…” he says softly. Not the answer you wanted to hear but it was enough.

“I don’t know if you knew… but you’re not supposed to do that…” Iris says gently.

“Yes I’ve gathered that,” Elvis spats at her coldly.

They were looking at Elvis like he was the most vile creature they’d ever laid eyes upon. You felt your anger bubble up to the surface and snap.

“How about you tell us how to go about feeding instead of sitting there and judging him! He’s not perfect but he’s different now! So much has changed. If you’re going to judge him, you have to judge me too. I was engaged when I met him but didn’t care and let Elvis take me to his bed anyway. You’re in the twentieth century, learn to adapt,” you hiss.

Their faces are shocked by your blunt words. You weren’t going to sit there anymore as they continued to take little jabs at Elvis.

“We’re sorry for saying those things. We apologize for hurting your feelings,” Alexander says somberly.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, “can you tell us how you feed though? There isn’t any guidance in any book for us to follow,” you try to explain calmly.

“Well from what I’ve known and experienced from the different vampires I’ve met, you can feed however suits you but it’s a little different when you’re with your Chosen. As I’m sure you are aware, you only want your partner’s. Nothing is as fulfilling. You still should drink human blood every few weeks to keep your strength up and keep your hunger at bay. It can be from a human you compel but you don’t bite from anywhere but the neck. You don’t feel any need for humans other than their blood. There’s no pull to give them anything else. You make your interaction with them to feed as brief as possible. But the need for each other's blood will never go away, you’ll always be in need of one another. That’s just how your bond works.” She says. She suddenly looks at you inquisitively, analyzing your overall demeanor.

“You haven’t fed in a while. I can tell by the way your heart sounds,” she says matter-of-factly.

You’re annoyed you can’t hide anything from any vampire.

“I know. I couldn’t feed when Elvis was away. I was too nervous and didn’t have an appetite for anything,” you say defeated. She nods her head, understanding how you feel. She then looks over at Elvis too, giving him the same analysis.

“You haven’t fed either. You’re starving for her,” she tells him.

You watch as Elvis swallows harshly when he looks over at you.

“Yes of course. We’ve just been a little busy and haven’t had the time to,” he says uncomfortably. Alexander and Iris exchange panicked looks. You don’t understand why they look shocked. Elvis was saying the truth about it all.

“You haven’t fed from each other… at all?” Alexander asks. “Why aren’t you taking care of your wife?” He says looking at Elvis with disgust.

Oh no. Not good.

You stand up and step in front of Elvis and push at his chest as he looks at them with a deadly look in his eye.

“You do not get to accuse me of not taking care of my wife!” he barks over your head. “You better fucking watch it,” he growls.

“You left her unprotected and starved! Your only job for the rest of your life is to provide for her! You haven’t done that for her in this new life of hers,” he snarls at him.

“Enough! Both of you!” You snap. They both have the same reaction and look down at the floor listening to your command.

“Stop this! Stop accusing him of being a terrible man, Alexander. You know nothing about him. I have drank blood! It’s not like I’m on the brink of death. I’ve just drank from blood bags… why is this a big deal?” You ask growing increasingly anxious and frustrated.

“Well,” Iris begins to say nervously, “That’s the final step of your change, it’s to drink each other's blood, securing the bond for life. What you drank out of him while you were still human wasn’t enough. You have to be fully changed and then drink his blood to secure your bond to him.” She explains.

You feel like you just got punched in the gut. It made you feel sick that you weren’t technically bonded with him. If you hadn’t started fighting with him, you wouldn’t be facing this dilemma. Another bomb hits you in the chest as you're sitting there worried out of your mind…

You can’t feel Elvis’ emotions like you did the first day you were changed. You can hardly feel anything. You go to sit down again, needing to calm down and get a grasp on this information. Elvis grabs onto your hand and you look up at him. You expect to feel the worry roll off of him but you don’t feel much at all. It scared you half to death.

“I can’t feel you… I can’t feel anything you’re feeling like I did before… it’s so faint.” You say scared. You look back at Alexander’s and Iris’ nervous faces.

“Yeah… that’s what can happen…” she says low. “You need to bite each other and it’ll be okay. The longer you wait, the harder it is to restore your bond. You could have easily been able to be compelled by another vampire while Elvis was gone,” she says regretfully.

Alexander nods in agreement, “that’s why we don’t like to be away from each other. You made to protect your other half. It feels physically ailing to be away for long,” he says gently.

It made so much sense why you felt so lost and empty when he left. The other half of you was being ripped out of you.

“When were you turned y/n?” Iris asks.

“May 17th,” you inform. She gives you both another wide-eyed look.

“And that was the last time you drank from each other? That’s so long ago…” she says confused.

“Well, I didn’t wake up for eight days after his bite,” you start to explain.

“Eight days? That shouldn’t be possible…I don’t understand…” Iris says lost in thought. “The only way for the change to be interrupted was if someone else bit you but that can be possible…”

You feel your mouth turn dry at the memory. It feels like so long ago but it wasn’t. The last memory of Raphael biting you was excruciating and the most pain you’ve ever felt. You would always hate him even in death that he did that to you.

“I was bitten by someone else,” you squeak out. They stare motionless on the couch, looking at both you and Elvis in shock.

You hear a growl form deep in Elvis’ chest at the memory.

“Who?” They ask in unison.

“The man that bit me, Raphael, abducted her and fed off of her, multiple times. He almost killed her along with her ex-fiancé,” Elvis seethes.

Iris turns her attention to you to speak, “How many times did he bite you? Where did he bite?” She asks a little frantic.

Your head feels a bit lightheaded and you have to take a few deep breaths before speaking.

“Everywhere. His bite hurt so much. He bit deep and tore my skin so badly. I had ugly scars everywhere,” you tremble at the memory. You instinctively remember where he bit you. You had to look at those marks every day and shield them from Elvis in any way you could for months. You raise your hand up to your chest, feeling the phantom pain of where those bites were.

You freeze.

You had to be delirious with thirst or so in shock with all this new information that you could swear you feel the raised scar of the bite mark. You pull down the collar of your shirt and gasp.

A prominent scar, a bite mark was red on your chest, the exact place where Raphael bit you.

You look at Elvis horrified, you have no idea when this got here but it looks just like it did when you came back from the hospital. Elvis stares angry daggers at the scar as his breathing becomes ragged.

“How long has that been there,” Elvis hisses.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I haven’t noticed it,” you say dazed thinking to remember if you noticed anything weird before. He moves your hair to expose your neck and growls loudly.

“What does this mean!” Elvis snaps at Alexander and Iris. You raise your hand to cover your neck and feel the raised scar there too. You want to cry, this was all too much.

They can’t look him in the eye, his anger was so palpable and coming off of him in heaps. It felt like it was choking you.

“We don’t know exactly. I know for a fact that no one is supposed to feed from another person’s Chosen. That is heresy and that person would be killed for their actions. No one is even supposed to touch her except you,” she explains to Elvis. She cautiously stands up and lowers her gaze.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look at your wife’s scars? I won’t touch her I swear,” she says timidly.

“Fine,” he grumbles through his teeth.

Iris makes her way to you and kneels in front of you to get a better look at the marks. You hear her suck in a sharp breath as she inspects them. You pull your shirt down to show her that mark too. She looks at you with sorrow in her eyes.

“These bites… I don’t know how you survived them while you were human. These bites were vicious and cruel. It’s like…” she trails off lost in thought. You knew what she was going to say. You thought the same thing while he was biting you.

“Like he was trying to mark me as his,” you breathe.

She stays silent and nods her head. “This is so strange… I’ve only heard of something like this happening if-,” she says but gets interrupted by Elvis.

“What does this mean? Why is this happening to her? First, she didn’t turn right away and now these bite marks are coming back? I don’t understand,” Elvis says frustratedly.

Iris stands back up and is listening in thought. She paces a bit, collecting her thoughts.

“Forgive me for the lack of clarity but… you killed Raphael for this, didn’t you? For doing all of this to her?” She asks him.

“Yes of course I did. Cut his head right off,” he growls. Iris looks at him expectantly like she’s waiting for him to say more.

She swallows harshly, “…and you staked him in the heart right?” She asks gently.

You look up at Elvis expecting to see him nodding in agreement but instead, he turns three shades paler and his knees buckle to the floor. You grab onto his shoulder and try to get him to look at you.

“Honey?” You shake him.

He looks up and for the first time in a while, his eyes look dark.

Deadly.

Vicious.

On the hunt for blood.

His breathing becomes labored and his fangs descend down.

“You’re telling me, Raphael is alive?” He hisses.

“It’s possible… and it looks like it’s true with these scars reforming on her body. He has a tie to her it seems. Only someone so cruel and vile would inflict this kind of harm,” she says lightly.

“No!” Elvis yells, his fist slamming into the wall behind him. Pieces of drywall crumble down and a large hole is left behind.

“I’m not entirely certain though. It is just a theory. It looks like a huge possibility though. He would need a lot of help to be brought back to life, but it’s possible. The only way to truly kill a vampire is to stake them in the heart, with an ash stake in particular. Certain types of wood hold mystical properties that will keep vampires dead. There is no way of resuscitating them after that and since you didn’t do that… he might be out there somewhere,” she says walking back to the couch cautiously, looking at him with his fangs exposed like he was dangerous. You had to agree though, he was dangerous when it came to protecting you. He would do anything for you and should be feared.

“I-I-I didn’t know… no one told me and none of the legends go into that sort of thing…” he says scared. You try to recall the books you had been reading and you don’t remember any specifics of how to kill a vampire. You’re sure Elvis read every book there was and read it multiple times, he wouldn’t miss that crucial piece of information.

“It’s okay Elvis, it's not a widely known thing because we don’t want everyone to know how to annihilate us off this planet. Humans have always been superstitious about us and if they knew the one thing that can kill us, it would be a very hard life to live here,” she explains

Your stomach turned and felt like you could be sick. This was the worst thing you could hear. You had some sort of tie to that wicked, cruel man all because you let him bite you while you were human. You couldn’t believe any of this. It felt like the world was closing in on you and you were drowning.

“We’ll figure out what to do together. It’ll be alright. It’s not like he knows where you live,” Alexander tried to reassure.

“Everyone knows where I live you fucking-,” Elvis starts to yell but you quickly get up and try to stop him.

“Honey stop stop! It’s alright, it’s alright. We’re going to be fine,” you say trying to calm him down, He looks at you like he doesn’t believe a word you just said. Frankly, you don’t believe a word you said either. You had no idea if it was going to be okay.

“What do we do?” Elvis asks them.

“He’s going to come looking for her eventually, so it’s best to be prepared. Keep your guys on watch and keep everyone strong. So that means you two need to feed and complete your bond. That will help you get stronger and not let him have more of a hold on her or risk her getting compelled by him in any way,” Alexander tells you both.

Iris grabs his hand and stands up again.

“We should leave you alone for now. I know you both have a lot to discuss. We’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk more,” she says softly and starts to make her way to the front door with Alexander in tow.

The front door slams and you both are standing there motionless, stuck in complete shock. Elvis looks like he’s about to collapse again. He slowly walks to the staircase and sits down on the third step. His face is in his hands and his long legs are stretched out. He looks defeated like this. Your heart dies to see him like this.

You kneel in between his legs, “Honey, I-I’m so scared,” you whimper. He looks up at you and his fangs are gone and tears fall down his cheeks.

“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry for this,” he sighs.

“No honey that’s not true-,” you try to reassure.

“No. It is. I have put you in so much danger since meeting you and even worse, I left you alone for weeks, defenseless and starving. I don’t know why I keep fucking all this up with you. I’m so sorry,” he sighs.

“I understand why you left,” you say gently, “you were desperate for answers. I’m sorry that I started a fight that drove you to leave though. I’m sorry for that. I wish you could have told me how you felt in the beginning. I didn’t know about any of that you said in the living room,” you say sheepishly.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between you two and Elvis continues to not look at you. Your heart thumps nervously, waiting for him to say anything to reassure you.

“It was too sickening to admit to you. I couldn’t look at your face when I said it,” he pauses to look at you. “I can’t take any of it back but if it changes anything, I’ve loved you the second I saw you. I was too afraid to admit it, so I did some shallow things, and I’m sorry for that,” he sniffles.

Your heart breaks as you watch him sit there. You reach for his hand and squeeze it lightly.

“We’re not perfect, but I believe you. We can’t change the past… I know your love for me has always been stronger than I can possibly imagine,” you say softly. He lets go of your hand and wipes his face.

“I’m an idiot… I can’t keep doing this to you. You’re in harm's way yet again,” he pauses and looks at you for the first time. His eyes look like he’s looking right through you, “Maybe it would be better if you forgot all of this…compel you. Send you far away until I take care of Raphael once and for all and just start over with us…” he alludes.

Your heart stops. You stare at him blankly and can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. You stumble backward, not being able to be so close to him.

“E-Elvis…NO! What are you thinking! No!” You yell at him.

“I can’t cause you any more pain! And there is bound to be more pain with Raphael around! It’s going to kill me if he hurts you again! I can’t see that again,” he cries, grabbing your arm to still you. “I can send you with Iris and Alexander, I know they’d protect you-,” he continues.

“NO! I won’t let you do that!” You yell, getting up to your feet. “If you do that, I’ll never forgive you, Elvis! I promise you that!” You seethe, tears flowing down your face.

He stands up too, looking at you intensely. You can’t help but hold your breath, too afraid of what he’s going to say next.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to put you out of harm's way,” he trembles.

“This isn’t the solution. I would never agree to that” you cry. “I swear I won’t forgive you if you make me forget a single detail!”

“Then what is the solution?! If he hurts you, or even worse, tries to kill you, I would die too. We’re meant to be together forever, tied together in our bond…the bond that I’ve only weakened being gone so long and not letting you feed…” he says mournfully.

“Stop please, I can’t live without you either. Not even for a second! I would always feel this giant hole inside my heart if you had someone compel me to forget you. It would be the worst pain I could ever feel,” you shudder.

You step closer to him with hurt eyes and an aching heart.

“We need to figure this out together, not pushing each other away. How many times do I need to prove that to you,” you say gently. He looks at you through tear-filled eyes and breathes slowly. You can feel the mood of the room drastically shift with the way he’s looking at you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him but there’s a small part of you that still trembles in his presence.

He takes a small step closer to you, then another and another, just until your chests barely touch.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I felt so hollow without you these last few weeks… I don’t know how I would last another day,” he whispers, his lips so close to yours. You feel your heart flutter again, gasping for breath in his suffocating presence.

“I know,” you breathe, closing your eyes.

He gently caresses your arms, giving you chills down your spine.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for this.” He grumbles.

His touch sparks the dimmed light inside you and you want to touch him too. He moves his face to the side of yours and runs his fingers through your hair. He sighs slowly then takes in a deep breath, taking in your scent. You feel like you could crumble at his feet. The slightest touch makes it harder and harder to breathe. His fingers slowly drag down the length of your hair and his hand snakes down to your waist. Your breath catches in your throat as he does this, not ready for his intimate touch. You feel his teeth graze your earlobe and slowly drag it down.

Lord save me.

“Baby, I ache for you…” he gasps. You pull your head away from his and you try to look in his eyes.

He flashes his golden eyes to you and makes you weak.

“Fix me,” he whimpers.

“Y-you don’t… I don’t unders-,” you tremble as you feel him pull your body flush to his.

“Make me whole again… Please,” he sighs squeezing you tighter. “Forgive me for all of it.”

Your breathing feels ragged and like an involuntary reaction, you pull at his arms to hold you tighter. He places a kiss on your cheek and you feel the heat linger there. His hand tangles in your hair again and you feel him become more desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know, it’s okay,” you say back.

He quickly picks you up by the back of your knees and lifts you off the ground, carrying you up the white carpeted stairs. He looks at you in his arms like you’re a wounded bird he found on the side of the road. His eyes bled so much sorrow and shame. They might appear golden right now, but underneath there was this cold, blustery storm inside of them that he was battling by himself.

He pushes open the bedroom door with his back and shuts it with his foot. He walks over to the bed and places you in the middle of it. You realize this is the first time you’ve laid in this bed since coming here. You didn’t want to get in it with Elvis around. He sits next to you, observing every inch of you as you lay there. He brushes your hair off of your chest and exposes your neck to him. You instantly cover up the scar mark with your hand.

“Forgive me,” he whimpers again, pulling your hand away from your neck.

“It’s okay,” you breathe.

He scoops his hands underneath your back and gets on top of you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his torso, wanting him closer. He grumbles delightfully, relishing in the closeness.

“Feed on me,” he says in a breathy voice, “then let me make love to you. Please,” he begs.

“Honey I-,” you begin to say but he cuts you off with a kiss. This kiss was like no other. It was meaningful, passionate, and intense with fireworks exploding in your mind when you felt his lips. Oh how you missed his lips, those perfect plush lips that have you needing more. Your hands tangle in his hair, wanting him to stay close. You breathe in his scent, realizing how much you missed that too.

“Please,” he begs.

He takes his lips off yours and covers your cheek with kisses. He stops when he reaches your neck and you freeze. You didn’t want him to look there ever again. His thumb glides gently along the scar.

“Honey I’m so sorry,” he begins to say.

“Please don’t look. It’s too much,” you whimper.

He doesn’t listen of course and starts to lift up your shirt to see the other marks. You had to look away from him, you couldn’t watch his reaction yet again to those horrendous scars. You can feel his fingertips trace over the marks in a calculated and precise manner. You sigh and try to get him to touch you anywhere else but he’s much stronger than you and won’t budge. He slowly starts to cover your torso in warm, wet kisses, trailing up to your breasts and you melt away. You feel your heart start to race, getting even weaker the longer his mouth is on your skin.

“Feed on me,” he says low as you feel his hardening length press against your core. You grumble at the sensation and moan softly. You pull his neck closer to your mouth and try to focus. You place a kiss on the spot you want to bite and hear him groan slightly. You try to get your fangs to descend and feel the pull of his scent to beckon you for more. You feel your teeth sharpen and your sensations get overloaded with need for him. You place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him closer to sink your teeth into him. You pierce his skin and he groans heavily. His blood spills into your mouth and it tastes like heaven. It’s better than you remembered and all the blood bags you drank put this to shame. He tasted so sweet yet savory. So satisfying and yet you’ll always need more.

You groan as you swallow mouthfuls, feeling so content and happy. You feel his hand slither down to the button of your pants and undo it, sliding the zipper down too. He feels your heat radiate from your core and puts his hands into your panties. You hold onto him tighter, knowing you’re going to be ultra-sensitive when he touches you. His fingers find your clit and rub it in soft, concentrated circles.

A fire ignites in you and you groan. You weren’t going to stop feeding until he told you to. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this in your entire life. It was strangely erotic, the way you wanted his body and his blood to appease the undying need for him. You hold him tighter, as you feel his finger tease your entrance. You were wetter than expected and he groans softly. You moan into his neck and carefully take your teeth out of him. Your entire body felt like it was tingling, buzzing with an electric wave that flowed between you and him.

He lifts up his head and hovers over you. His eyes drink in your needy body as you gaze at the bite mark you left on him leaking with blood. It made you thirsty again. He pulls your pants down swiftly and uncovers the remaining scars left behind.

He trails kisses up your body until he’s back at your lips.

“Can I make love to you now? Please,” He asks softly. You feel your heart fly out of your chest by the request.

All you can do is nod your head and tear at his shirt, ripping it clean off of him. He would normally make a snarky comment about how that’s his favorite shirt or something but not tonight. The mood is very different in here. He sheds his pants off and climbs back on the bed with you. His hand rubs your tummy lovingly and looks up at you with care.

“I need you,” he whimpers.

He doesn’t have to say much else to drive you crazy. You put your hands on his hips to get him closer. He gently rubs his length through your wet folds, causing both of you to groan. You were more sensitive than you were expecting. Every sense inside you was heightened and you can only imagine this is going to be like the first time he fucked you. So completely overwhelming and needy.

You watch as he teases you, covering his tip in your wetness. You squeeze your eyes shut and groan in agony. You can’t help but ball the comforter in your fist as you anticipate him entering you.

“I’m gonna love you nice and slow, okay?” He says low and sultry.

Please God yes! Please love me! That’s all I want, your brain screams.

You pop your eyes back open and nod your head yes.

That’s all you can do, there aren’t any words that can be said out loud. And with that, he pushes his cock inside you. He felt so good, it had been so long since he got to do this. His bedroom eyes are heavy with lust as he watches you underneath him.

He places a kiss on your lips, groaning as he does so. He pushes in a bit more, your entrance stretching around him as it makes you gasp.

“Oh God,” you groan into his mouth, your fingers scratching down his back.

He places a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck. These touches can send you to heaven and he knows it. He kisses you more and each one leaves you more breathless. His hips move like only he can giving you more of his cock.

There was so much urgency but also tenderness from him. The way he was loving you was like his life depended on it. Maybe it did and he needed you this much.

“I missed you,” he groans into your ear as he moves deeper inside you.

You can’t handle him, he is making you a total puddle underneath him. You continue to hold onto him tight and enjoy every second of this. Elvis places a kiss on your forehead before looking at you with a familiar glint in his eye.

He was starving.

It made your heart gallop uncontrollably and quite frankly, it made you starved too. You could wait though, you wanted to take care of him too.

“Bite me,” you whimper. He responds with a groan and plunges his length fully inside of you making you cry out for him. Your walls squeeze around him momentarily as he moves more inside of you. You need to gasp for breath as each thrust of his makes you immeasurably weak. Looking up at him stunned, he continues to gently swivel his hips into you and makes you moan his name louder. He can’t help but smirk when he watches you get physically pleased by him.

“Honey please,” you beg him, trying to get him to lean back into your neck. He doesn’t listen to your directions right away, there is this restraint to him. You sense that he’s timid and shy throughout all of this.

“I’m starved, honey. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says weakly. You claw at his arms and moan frustratedly.

“Please, just bite me. I can take it,” you groan.

His chest heaves as he looks at you and he grabs a hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head. It was like a switch flipped and the mood of the room shifted dramatically. You can feel how needy he has become and how hungry he is for you.

“Fuck darlin’, I needed to hear that,” he groans. His hips grind into you harder making that coil inside you tighten with every thrust of his cock. He looks at you so intensely and keeps his slow pace that is agonizingly satisfying for you. You bare the side of your neck to him and hope he takes the hint to bite you there.

You close your eyes and feel his teeth gently sink into your neck, making you suck in a sharp breath. You don’t know what to expect but you know it wouldn’t be painful like last time. And you were right. This strange frenzy develops inside you and your pleasure skyrockets. You loved how he felt drinking from you as he buried his cock deep inside of you. You couldn’t get enough of this and you could feel how much he loved this too. Your heart soars knowing your bond together is only strengthening. Elvis groans deeply as he drinks your blood, his grip on you getting tighter.

He pauses and takes his fangs out of you.

“Oh honey, you are so delicious,” he grovels.

“Take more baby,” you tell him breathlessly.

He licks his lips slow and sultry, thrusting into you a bit faster. He concentrates on your pleasure and the faces you make because of it, wanting to see you fall apart.

“You’re mine,” he growls, "fucking mine." He goes back to sink his teeth into the top of your breast. You gasp as he squeezes and sucks on it. He quickly takes his length out of you and you groan in agony, your walls fluttering in need of him once more. He trails kisses down your breasts and moves down to your tummy, biting there and groaning. Every kiss and bite from him was so overwhelming. Pleasure skyrocketed through you and couldn’t help but cuss his name. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to mark you as his in a very apparent way. You believed it, your heart and soul knew it but for anyone else that might glance your way, he wanted them to know too. You moan his name and look down where he’s going to bite next. He examines the scar on your thigh and grumbles displeased. He takes another bite there, squeezing your thigh tightly and groaning when he tastes you.

His bite marks that he made were left leaking and spilling onto the sheets. You had to pray they would heal quickly and everything was going to be alright. Elvis licks up your thigh and looks at you once again. His eyes are much more soft and his demeanor is calmer. Lastly, he takes your wrist and bites there, grumbling to himself pleased at the taste of you.

“Thank you, honey,” he sighs, “I can feel you again. I can feel how much you loved that.” He says relieved.

“Mhmm me too,” you smile at him, feeling his heart soar with happiness and relief. You pull at his arm and make him get closer to you.

“Please, I need you,” you moan.

He gives you a soft smile, “what do you need baby?” He says low, his voice gruff and sultry.

“I need you back inside of me,” you beg.

He nods his head at you and grabs onto your hips tightly, pushing his cock into you with a groan. You cry out for Elvis and writhe under him.

“Jesus mama you feel so damn good,” he groans, continuing to thrust slow and concentrated. “So fucking wet for me.”

With the way he feels and those lust-driven words coming from his mouth, you can’t hold on much longer. You wanted him to make you come apart. He looks so good while he fucks you; his hair tussled against his forehead, the low groans he makes when his cock is deep inside you, the way he lets his head fall back to the ceiling as his eyes roll back in pleasure. His neck was perfectly bared for you to bite him. You wanted him so desperately, that it made it hard to breathe. Your hips match his thrusts, needing him to fuck you harder. You look at him with pleading eyes and it’s like he heard your thoughts when you feel him move a bit faster and rub your clit.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out.

“That’s it, baby, let me feel you come,” he beckons, thrusting deep inside you. He pins your arms down again and nips at your neck.

“Come for me, please,” he growls in your ear. “I need you.”

You gasp at his words and beg him for more. He groans deeply and fucks you harder, making you see stars. Your walls squeeze around his cock and rock into every thrust he gives you. Every limb tingles with pleasure and you moan loudly for him. It felt so different than the last time you were with him. You were so much more sensitive now and craved him like never before. He takes in a sharp breath through his teeth and moves slower in and out of you.

“FUck, sucha good girl. I want to come deep inside you now,” he groans loudly. You need him to do that, the way his body ached for you was overwhelming, and wanted him to feel pleased like never before.

You twist your arms out of his grasp and it surprises him you were able to do so. You grab onto his shoulders and push him to the side, making him lay on his back quickly. You sink down on his cock once again and groan when he fills you again. He looks up at you wide-eyed and needy. His chest heaves and he grabs onto your hips to help you ride him.

“Shit baby yes, nice and slow,” he groans, rocking your hips back and forth on him. You gasp and nod your head at him, grinding slowly on his cock.

You cup your breast in your hands and roll your nipples in between your fingers, sending a zing of pleasure through you. Elvis can’t tear his eyes off of you and you can feel him grow desperate for you. You tease him, touching yourself more and making him watch. You look down at your hardened nipples and see the blood spilling from the bite mark he made. Your finger swipes up the trail of blood and place it to his lips. He opens his mouth gladly and swirls his tongue around your finger, sucking on it to make sure he licks all of your blood clean off. He groans and his eyebrows furrow as he looks up at you. Rocking your hips more, you know he needs to come. Your heart pounds away as you watch him and you feel his cock pulse deep inside you, groaning your name as he comes. You move faster and he holds onto your hips. His hips move off the bed to meet every thrust you give him making you want to come again.

“Fuck baby… so good, so good,” he whimpers. You smile pleased that you have him so weak for you.

You lean down onto his chest and make him bare his neck to you. This incessant thirst you have for him consumes your thoughts and you take a bite from his neck, sucking his blood happily. You hear him growl low and moan your name again.

“Good girl,” he whimpers. You take a few more gulps and take your mouth off of him, needing air. You felt so light and weak and yet, stronger than ever. It was such a strange sensation and you can see Elvis feels the same. He wraps his arms around you tightly and keeps you on his chest.

You both lay like this for a while, not wanting this moment to end.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear.

“I love you too,” you sigh.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he says softly.

“I know,” you say. You didn’t want to think about the future, you just wanted to live in this moment with him forever. You had to have hope that his words were true, everything was going to be alright and you both could have a peaceful and happy life together.

You push yourself off of him to look into those beautiful eyes of his and he smiles when he sees your face.

“The bite marks I made are healed honey,” he says pleased, rubbing his thumb gently along your neck.

“Good,” you smile. You start to get off of him to lay next to him but he stops you and keeps you on top of him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you,” he says devilishly. You feel your heart skip a beat and he pulls you close again, covering you in kisses.

Tagging : @burninlovebutler

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memory-lane-and-back-again · 17 days

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A Thought About Wei Wuxian's Death

Spoilers for... I don't remember which book it is (Book 3 I think)

When WWX is captured by the Wens and tossed into the burial mounds he is so full of rage and anger that it is a terrifying possibility that he will come back as a fierce corpse full of resentful energy. (Arguable he does, but that's a point to make for after exams when I can actually have fun and analyse the heck out of these)

I find it an interesting parallel that when he actually does die he is an incredibly 'well behaved ghost.' as in, he's well... if not moved on, at least not inclined to try and act and in some state of peace: not happy but at least tolerating how things have ended. WWX's character is permeated by a deep, inextricable sadness and I think, though it is not ever blatantly acknowledge, this is foregrounded right at the beginning with the story: he doesn't know why he's been brought back, does not understand and is incredibly fixed on the fact that it was not his choice. To infer... he didn't really want to come back.

I found his present mellowness, that contrasts so brutally with his fury and anger and ability to feel such intensity before he died, to be a bit strange---not unbelievable but strange. That kind of anger burns incredibly brightly and is incredibly hard to tamper down and yes, he grows and matures but it feels a bit strange to me that this comes on from spending ten years without a body. I think it is more an extension of his grief and guilt: after Wen Qing and Wen Ning go to die on his behalf is when he gets truly angry... his anger gets out of control and Jiang Yanli is hurt and then dies for him. Jiang Cheng takes his anger out on him. As far as WWX can remember even LWJ is disgusted by him... is it so hard to believe that he too is disgusted with himself. Present day, he cringes at his past arrogance---the illusion of omnipotence and control he thought he had.

I am of the opinion he's the sort of person with the mindset that if he can make the world a better place, fix one problem, even if it is at the expense of his own, he'd do it. He is raised to protect JC, doesn't even bat an eye at losing his core because if it can help JC it is good; he doesn't fear dying if he can come back as a fierce corpse to still help destroy the Wens; he doesn't care to humiliate himself to try and give Wen Ning a chance at archery; his public image does not matter if he is helping people. This carries forward where he is willing to sacrifice discovery to protect Jin Ling; he turns himself into a spirit attraction flag for people who hate him; the moment LWJ freaks out about sleeping with him, WWX first priority is to take all the blame for everything and then leave and go do the stupid mission all by himself because he doesn't want to force LWJ to put up with him, even though it leaves WWX himself incredibly wrought. And then of course, he doesn't even bat an eye at luring Nie Minguie away by himself.

My point is he's a willing martyr, happy to get himself into trouble and deep water for pretty much anyone (mianmian, LWJ, JC, the Wens) so it must feel like hell when his efforts only succeed in getting everyone killed, when he's kind of forced to confront that he is loved and had people willing to stand by him that he did not consider when he made his plans and that they are dead because of to an extent his actions. I truly believe him trying to destroy the Yin Tiger Tally is his last attempt to try and rectify things and he is a bit like Xiao Xingchen in that regard, trying so hard to follow his principles and failing abysmally. At that point his jiejie is dead, who is like the very symbol of innocence and unconditional love in his life at that point and he knows they are coming to kill him. His big character difference I think has a lot to do with the three months after the nightless city and before his death because he feels the world is better off with him dead.

A lot of people compare Xue Yang and WWX and whilst I think that is valid, I think a lot of people forget his inherent connection to XXC through his mother. I think it is important to acknowledge that they share a very similar mindset: naively wanting to change the world with their beliefs alone as if people will see altruism and kindness as the best path whilst most people are out searching very selfishly for their own greatness and success---something neither WWX adn XXC need to think about because A) the are already powerful and successful and B) they were never raised to think themselves as needing to be supremely powerful to be successful and Good.

Anyways, it does make me wonder how much of WWX's characterisation present day is put on. He slaps himself in the face when no one is around to see it after he finds out who Jin Ling is, he lets Jin Ling stab him and feels he deserves it---that by proxy is when he's most open with LWJ: 'you don't need to come with me, your reputation will be ruined.' It so, so clearly speaks of self-loathing that he is so so good at hiding.

I think actually when LWJ and WWX first sleep together the physical undressing is also a metaphor for an emotional undressing on WWX's part because he strips himself of his insincerity and arrogance and allows himself to be vulnerable. The only other times we see his vulnerability is when he's passed out unconscious and when he realises to stop hurting LWJ he needs to kind of bare his soul to him in book 5 after LXC reveals the truth about nightless city.

Gosh, I love these characters so much.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #xiao xingchen #xue yang #tw death #tw self loathing

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loverofpiggies · 2 years

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Hey guys, I got something I’m ready to talk about under the cut. It’s super long! And it’s pretty serious, so feel free to scroll past. It’s also about some serious subject matter regarding transphobia, so if you’re not in a good place and ready to read about something like that, take care of yourself first and foremost. Okay?

Okay.

Hey guys, I’ve been doing a lot of self discovery these last few…. I guess technically my whole life, but I only got serious about focusing and working on it these last few years, and it has to do with my history of transphobia. I want to talk about my journey of growth, and what I’ve done to grow, and maybe it could help anyone else dealing with similar issues.

I was a pretty…. Hateful kid, to put it lightly. I was very angry, VERY angry, and obsessed over all this anger and hatred I had at everyone, but especially at myself. I’ve been in therapy as far back as I can remember, and more meds than I’d like to admit, trying to figure out what was ‘wrong’ with me. Which was a lot, by the way.

Anyway, around 2016, I got really serious about therapy. As a kid I didn’t take it seriously, but by 2016 I knew I needed help. I realized how my anger was ripping me apart, and how deeply it was rooted in hating myself. So, without therapy, and without the tools of therapy, I’d try to alter thoughts as they’d happen. I’d see someone dressed in a way I didn’t like? My thoughts immediately turned to hatred and judgementality. I taught myself to step back, and go, ‘hold on. You don’t know them. That’s a lot to assume about someone you’ve never talked to.’ and it helped curb a lot of my most angry and judgemental thoughts, at least, I thought so. In truth, all it did, was bury the issue, instead of addressing it.

Going into therapy seriously this time as an adult, I started unburying my own trauma, small bit by small bit. I started journaling a lot of it out, and my therapist put it best. Going to therapy is like trying to untangle a ball of paperclips. You might be like ‘ah, I just want to take this one paperclip out’ but it’s attached to so many other things you wouldn’t have guessed, and eventually you just. End up with the whole ball. You go to therapy for one ‘small’ thing, oops, you’re talking about this huge other thing that you never knew was related.

Also at this point, I was pretty serious about my spirituality. I was sick of being so angry and judgemental, I got deep into meditation and learning about compassion, because… well I lacked so much of it for so long. My favorite quote, that helped me grow the most, is “If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete” by Jack Kornfield. Another one I adore, is, “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” attributed to lots of people so I’m not actually sure who the original quoter is. If you watched a lot of my early streams, I was pretty obsessed with kindness and spirituality at that point! Half the time the streams turned into talks about that, lol. Sorry if that was a bit much, I was in a ‘place’ at that time.

After realizing how angry I was, and being so exhausted from it, I swung the opposite way pretty hard. I knew what it felt like to be angry and judgemental, and hurt people because of it. I’ve seen people I was very close to in my life, destroy relationships because of anger. And I was trying so hard to make up for it, to stop being so angry. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore, I didn’t want to hurt myself, and I wanted to be kind and understanding about perspectives I spent so long cutting off. And the therapy helped, a lot! I worked on a lot of deep issues, and my mind, more and more, started being less angry. I also got on meds, because we *finally* figured out what my issue was, and got me on the right medication. At least, once I got over my ‘I don’t need medication’ phase. Which was an absolute blessing.

I thought to myself, ah ha! Look at me, look at all this progress! I’m not angry or judgemental anymore. I’ve opened up so many doors, learned so many new things, I’m okay now, I don’t need any further help.’ With all the progress I had made, I really believed I didn’t need anymore work. The growth I made in just a couple years was astounding, and I wasn’t where I needed to be, but by this point I had the tools I needed to work on things myself. This was what I told myself anyway.

Also around this time, I was making my first close trans friends. And there was this weird, nasty feeling in my head, that I thought I had gotten past. These angry, judgemental thoughts cropped back up again, and they shocked me. I thought I was past this sort of anger, this judgementality. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, or look deeper. I didn’t want to think that I could be so mean again, especially after all the work and growth I put in. So, I shoved it away, as hard as I could. I didn’t want to see it, and I didn’t want to think about it.

The problem with trying to shove angry, and judgemental, hateful thoughts away, is they don’t actually go away. They stay, and force themselves out in other ways. They come back as ‘jokes’ or ignorant angry comments. They come out subconsciously, as a defensive reaction. But… I didn’t want to acknowledge that I might be transphobic, or have transphobic thoughts. I didn’t want to be angry. So when I’d ‘joke’, or make a comment, I’d feel ashamed, and try to bury it deeper. And deeper. And it just made it worse. I also used my therapy as a defense mechanism too, without realizing it. “I’m fine now, I’ve gone to therapy, I don’t need any more work, I’m fine!” So. I buried it. I think there’s a pattern here.

After years of therapy, you’d think I’d realize what was going on. I was trying to bury this, the way I tried to bury all my anger for so many years. I knew from experience, that burying the issue does not work, and just makes it so much worse in the long run. But, I didn’t actually realize I was burying it. I was so deep in my own denial, that I couldn’t see it. Because there was a lot of deep shame there, too. I had so many amazing trans friends, and the experiences they had dealt with by this time, JUST for being trans, horrified me. I never, *ever* wanted to be a source of pain for them. But I’d still make comments, or ‘jokes’. Then, I’d feel horrible, crushing guilt, and try to force that bad side of me down even further.

By this point, a good majority of my friend group was either trans, or non binary. I loved them so much, and didn’t want to acknowledge my issues, or the fact that I had thoughts that could hurt them. Eventually, one of my trans friends approached me, and my god, I’m so lucky to have them in my life. But they approached me, telling me “I know you don’t mean to hurt anyone. I think… maybe it’s time to talk to your therapist about this.”

And… they were right. I spent so much time in denial, once they said this to me, it clicked. Yes, I do need to talk to someone. I can’t live like this anymore. If compassion is as important to me as I’ve always said, I need to work on any parts of me that still hold anger. But I was also so terrified, after spending so long trying to avoid it, now I was going to open up to someone? And say whatever my thoughts were out loud? What if I couldn’t be fixed? What if I was destined to be hateful and angry forever, no matter how hard I worked? I didn’t want to hear my own thoughts. I didn’t want to see this awful side of me, after spending so long trying to ‘defeat it’. I didn’t even know how dark it got, and my mind conjured all sorts of nasty ideas of how ‘bad’ of a person I was.

So. I walked into my therapist’s office, and said… out loud. “I think I’m transphobic. And I hate it.” I’ll leave a lot of details out, because it’s pretty personal, but I’ll go over the important things I discovered. After she let me speak for a bit, we turned to my gender identity. She asked me things in detail. I’m a cis woman, so I didn’t think I had any issues with my gender identity, so her questions confused me, but deeper than that, they scared me. There was still something inside of me that wanted to fight back, to protect me from whatever was coming. But I pushed forward.

As we pulled apart the paperclips, and started getting to the root of my true, deeper issue, I started to realize something. See, I’m pretty confident and comfortable in my skin. At least, I believed I was. I told myself, anyway. In a similar vein as I used ‘compassion’ to shove away parts of myself I hated, I used ‘confidence’ to shove away the insecure parts of myself as well. Which, I mean, couldn’t be a more false version of confidence OR compassion if you ask me.

I started to realize that I had a deep insecurity about my own femininity. A deep, crippling insecurity. See, my face and body are pretty androgynous. With long hair, I can look like a girl, but with short hair I can look pretty boyish. I don’t have much of a figure, or a chest, so I can be mistaken for a boy under lots of circumstances. That, combined with the fact that tight clothes are uncomfortable for me, meant overall I looked very unfeminine. And I was bullied a lot for it, growing up. Kids would call me a boy. In highschool, I was made fun of a lot, too. I’d be made fun of for not looking like a ‘girl’. This was only one factor of my bullying at the time, like I mentioned before. I had a lot of pretty severe behavior issues, so it sorta made me a prime target for bullying. I wanted to be viewed as a girl, as a woman. But because my looks didn’t fit enough into their ‘boxes’, I was made fun of. I was laughed at, and I can’t tell you how often people would say things like ‘are you SURE you’re a girl down there?’.

And this was the smoking gun. I finally had the realization I needed. This is hard to write, but. Because I didn’t fit in the mold of what my peers thought a woman was, I felt guilt, and I felt shame. And I shoved it away. And realized… subconsciously, I was doing what was done to me, to my trans friends. To the trans community. And it hurt. It hurt so much, to realize what I was doing. But now it also made so much sense. The guilt, the trying to ‘play it off’, the avoidance, the burying. It was so painful to grow up with those comments, that my mind was trying to shove away and hide me from realizing I was continuing the cycle of pain.

Not only that, but in therapy I learned something else. I’m still working through this, but. I realized as well I have dysphoria, and some mild dysmorphia. The fact that I was perceived so differently then I felt about myself in my adolescence, followed me deeply into adulthood.

I realized that when I would have friends talk about dysmorphia, my defense mechanism would kick in, to avoid me thinking that I might have the same issue. In fact, all my defense mechanisms would kick in, to avoid me from reliving the bullying and the trauma.

And anyone who knows anything about therapy, knows how much this shit hurts. It hurts SO much to open up wounds you’ve tried to hide, to look in and see where the real issue lies. To realize that maybe you haven’t been as kind as you wanted, even if it wasn’t intentional.

But… after the tears, and the pain of reliving this, and ripping open all the doors I was trying to close, to shove away… there was relief. I finally knew what was wrong. And that I knew where to start working. How to start helping myself grow, and be better.

So many things clicked, and my issues with transphobia evaporated. Finally facing it, finally confronting it, and realizing the deeper sides of myself, took away all that power my anger was holding onto. I had to reteach myself that, ‘hey, thanks for trying to protect me, but I’m okay now. You don’t have to protect me anymore.’

I’m still working on my issues with my femininity. After realizing this, I went through my closet and got rid of everything that made me feel ‘unpretty’. I went thrift shopping, and found looser clothes that still made me feel like a girl. I’m slowly growing my hair out, to see if I’m happier with long hair, or happier with short. In truth, I’m rediscovering myself again. It’s easier to look in the mirror.

The defensive reactions went away. The ‘jokes’ disappeared, and I didn’t have to fight to bury anything anymore. And I could be the supportive friend I always deeply wanted to be. To push back at a society that doesn’t like people ever sitting outside specific ‘molds’. To help make a world be safer for anyone who doesn’t align with the mainstream idea of what being a person is. To what being a man, or a woman is. To being whatever a human is.

This has been very long. But. I wanted to go through the entire experience, every step, to show how I worked on myself. And how I grew, from this darker, angrier, unhappy version of myself. And that maybe it could help anyone else who’s had the same experience. I also wanted to go through all of this, to show the steps I’ve made. And to my trans and nonbinary friends? To all the people in the trans community that I may have hurt in the past? I’m sorry. Genuinely, and truly. I never wanted to be another source of pain, especially to trans people, who already experience so much discrimination.

This was a painful experience to go through, but one I definitely needed. I’m still journaling, working on my issues and working on becoming a happier me. I had to take my time to discover myself, and wanted to open up about my journey to yall. I was finally ready to talk about this.

Anyway. I hope you have a beautiful day, and I hope every day is happier than the last. Cheers yall.

#tw: transphobia #transphobia #cqchat #important #therapy #self discovery #keep it real you guys

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