Un germoglio che ancora deve sbocciare nelle avversità della vita.
Piccola,piccola mia,stringi la mia mano. Sei tu la mia piccola bambina che custodisco in questo nido.
Ti proteggerò io dal mostro che alberga in noi.
Risplenderemo come angeli in battaglia.
Io estirperò questo dolore una volta e per sempre. Perché anche se la morte è nella nostra gola, non può essere la fine. Rinasceremo una seconda volta piccola.
Non perdere la tua luce,io starò sempre al tuo fianco anche quando tutto sarà buio.
Sto cercando di amarmi di più,ma non ti preoccupare perché a differenza tua mi sto curando in clinica.
Già, in clinica di sanità mentale per i disturbi comportamentali sul cibo.
No,testa di cazzo, non si parla solo di cibo,ma di traumi che mi porto da anni e anni.
So che il percorso non è lineare,ma è fatto di alti e bassi,ma almeno è il percorso giusto per me ed io guarirò a differenza tua e del tuo microbo ego da scarafaggio.
E a differenza tua, se io cadrò, ho al mio affianco persone che mi vogliono realmente bene, non come a te che nessuno te ne vuole.
Come hai detto tu "sono stanco di essere la seconda scelta", bhé ora so cosa risponderti mio caro Ivan...
"È quello che ti meriti, perché sei subdolo, e gli altri lo hanno capito prima di me. Ma chi vuoi rovinare per nutrire il tuo ego?! Sei una persona così insignificante che è normale che tu non sarai mai la prima scelta. Adesso paga ciò che hai tolto a me,ma per mille volte,per tutta la tua insulsa e patetica vita."
Io almeno guarisco,sto andando avanti e presto ti cancello dalla mia vita come tutti agli altri pezzenti come te.
È la monotonia che uccide. Non vedi via d'uscita e ti vien voglia di rompere i muri,o di scappare via di qui per non sentire questo bruciore dentro. Ho voglia di vivere, di respirare nelle fredde notti stellate, a guardare te che stai lassù in cielo a danzare tra le stelle e la luna. Mi sento annegare in questo mare. È la monotonia che mi inghiotte,e io vorrei solo assopirmi per non pensare più. Svegliatemi quando è ora di partire.
AN: I was so pissed after reading 17 year old love interests that I had to write a better one. It was urgent and very much necessary to write it before a block. (Arwen coded reader goes so well with him)
Genre: romance and pining
Pairing(s): Vampire hunter D x Elven Reader
Summary: You are an elf, your time on this earth long since passed. Most of your kin have vanished into their blessed realm, leaving behind only echoes. Yet you linger, bound to a world that no longer sings your name. For him.
Long have I sought your path, son of Dracula," you whisper, and D turns, the moonlight painting your face in silver, a vision etched from the dreams of the old world.
Once again, you have slipped through the veil of sound, your steps so light that even his supernatural senses faltered. Such silence belongs only to the eldest of beings, elves of forest and sea, who carry the light of a world shrouded in memory.
Yours is a light that lingers like the final notes of a song, woven into the very fabric of the earth. Elves, the true nobility of the old world, are what his kind have always sought to emulate, though they never could.
Now you stand before him, timeless and haunting, and D drinks in your presence as a wanderer drinks rain. He cannot help himself.
Even the shadow of his father’s name, the sacred Ancestor, fades to irrelevance in this moment. Too many lifetimes have passed since last he saw you; too many moments stolen by the cruel march of time.
In your eyes, he sees the weariness wrought by his absence, a sorrow deeper than grief, as though the world itself has tried to erase you. Yet you remain, defiant and whole.
When your hand rises to touch his cheek, he cannot resist. Your touch, featherlight and eternal, undoes him. You lift his hat, and he bows into your palm as though seeking absolution.
Of all the souls he has encountered, damsels in peril, admirers, and mourners—none have touched his heart. His heart has been yours, always yours, claimed by the fairest creature of the old earth.
You, the princess of long-forgotten elves. You, the moonlight upon your father’s valley. A star fallen to a world that no longer deserves you.
“I am not welcome in your halls,” D murmurs, his voice low and weak to your unyielding gaze. The words are truth; your father, lord of the elves, bears no love for him. To your kin, he is an intruder. A dhampir who defies the old ways.
But elves have little love for any beyond themselves and their kin. However, their immortal hearts were more easily swayed by vampires than by men who destroy their sacred groves.
You smile, a secret held in the curve of your lips. "When did my father’s disapproval ever stop you?" you ask, your voice a melody that hums in the air. Even the simplest words are a song, a fragment of the music that shaped the world.
With playful grace, you tug gently at his ear. D, ever the stoic, leans into the gesture without protest. He would not harm you, even in jest.
"My heart is my own to give," you say, the eternal debate stirring again between you, inevitable as the tides.
D frowns, though in your presence, even this resistance feels like a burden. "It is no life for you," he counters, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"Listen to your father. Return to your world." He steps back, the absence of your touch leaving an ache he cannot name. The grief in your eyes strikes him like a blade.
How many times have you stood like this, warring with love and duty?
He is dhampir, trapped between worlds, cursed to atone for his father’s sins. Neither mortal nor immortal, something forever between.
You are an elf, your time on this earth long since passed. Most of your kin have vanished into their blessed realm, leaving behind only echoes. Yet you linger, bound to a world that no longer sings your name. For him.
The forests will fall, as all things do, to the greed of men. Your kin will dwindle, their blood staining the soil that birthed them. D cannot bear to imagine you among them, cannot endure the thought of your light extinguished in this broken world.
“Life and death are not meant to coexist,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “This world is not yours. To remain here will bring only sorrow.”
Your gaze holds his, steady and enduring, as though it has borne the weight of eternity itself. There is no anger, only unshakable resolve that cuts through his darkness. “Then I choose sorrow by your side over an eternity apart,” you reply, your words gentle but firm, like ancient trees weathering countless storms.
A breath catches in D’s throat, but you do not relent. “You and my father may forbid our union,” you continue, a melody filled with pain and defiance. “And I shall comply. I cannot force you to love me, but I will not stop loving you. If you do not wish my company, then I shall remain here, waiting, until my heart fades into this earth, forgotten as my kind has been.”
For a moment, your eyes blaze with a light so fierce it sears him, cutting through the walls around his heart. It is not a sharp pain, but a deeper ache, the agony of yearning for what cannot be.
D is silent, his breath heavy with unspoken words. In your wisdom, he finds no argument, no foothold to deny the truth you have laid bare. For all his efforts to save you, all his noble intentions, he has only brought you suffering.
And yet, in your gaze, there is no blame. Only love. Unfathomable, undying.
He turns his head, as though the sight of you is too much to bear, but your image lingers behind his closed eyes. How cruel it is that the one thing he cannot allow is the one thing he desires above all else.
“You deserve more,” he murmurs, his voice faltering. “More than I can give. More than this life will allow.”
“And yet,” you answer softly, stepping closer, “it is you I have chosen.”
For a long moment, D doesn’t move. His hand hovers over yours, trembling, before finally closing around it, warm and firm. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so delicate it feels like an apology, a promise, and a farewell all at once.
“I shall love you to my end,” he whispers, his voice heavy with a sorrow he cannot escape. “Never will you carry the burden of heartbreak, for my heart will always be yours. Yet there is no union for our tale.”
You rest your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath the leather a comfort against the ache of his words. The faint scent of jasmine drifts from you, wrapping around him like a memory he can never quite hold.
“So be it,” you murmur, your voice soft, steady. “I shall not ask for a union, as long as we walk under the same stars, as long as the winds speak of you, and for so long as I am able to await your return.”
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