#( words aren't powerful enough to describe how excited i am that this man is in a fantasy movie )

[bailesona]

" do not fret, friend. i'm not sure who or what has frightened you so, but you're quite safe here. come, let's go to the apartment. are you hungry? i've become quite good at grilling cheeses. "

OPEN STARTER. / from wyll, blade of frontiers and also one small corner of manhattan.

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hi everyone. Get ready for things to hot up, and for them to take a pretty big step. Just a warning, the first part of this chapter has a sex dream. It’s not overly graphic, but it’s there.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Six - Dream, Reality

Day Five: Friday

Freed had been reading, he thought, but he didn't care to remember. The situation was much more interesting.

He was lounging on one of the sofas in his study, a glass of port to his right, and his fireplace flickering before him. It was night, he thought, and there was the heavy pattering of a rainstorm on the roof. This would all be par for the course, if it weren't for the fact Gajeel Redfox was curled up on the sofa, his head resting in Freed's lap as if a cat curling up for warmth. Even more peculiar was how Freed found his hand carding through Gajeel's hair, and felt an odd sense of utter contentment in the entire situation.

Gajeel looked softer, now. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. Just relaxing. Freed had never thought of Gajeel as a man who could relax, as ridiculous as that sounded. Gajeel always seemed like he had some kind of a facade up - one where he was slightly exaggerating the toughness while downplaying the emotional side - and as such never could fully shut his mind off.

It warmed Freed to know Gajeel trusted him enough to be like this around him.

Why did he trust Freed enough to be like this around him?

Why was he lying with his head in Freed's lap?

When had they even gotten into his study?

Before the questions could really hit him, Freed realised Gajeel was talking. The words weren't exactly words, but more a deep grumbling, tired and hoarse, that sent a pleasant chill down Freed's spine. Though he couldn't decipher the words, Freed instinctively knew the meaning behind them. He was talking more about Draconic culture, retelling the stories and folklore that his father had gifted to him in his childhood. It was a private thing, something Gajeel would only let himself talk about with someone he truly cared for.

Freed's hand was still stroking through Gajeel's shockingly silky hair, scratching his scalp every once in a while to get Gajeel to grin. The other man was a darling when he was like this, and in an odd way it made Freed find his more manic, rough-edged side more enticing. Gajeel was a man who could use his fists to get out of most situations, but he was a hell of a lot more than that.

"What 'cha thinkin' about, pretty-boy?" Gajeel's words were clear now, and Freed smiled about the term of endearment.

He knew that nicknames were something important to Gajeel, Freed was beginning to understand that. While they could just seem like terms of endearments, or insults depending on the recipient, they were perhaps more than that. They were an encapsulation of who Gajeel thought you were, and while Freed suspected Gajeel thought more of him than his looks, the nickname still made him smile. The initial nickname of City-Boy had been meant to demean him, whereas the slip up of Pretty-Boy was more of a compliment.

The tides of their relationship were changing now, and Freed couldn't help but feel flattered and excited by that. Gajeel, now that he could think objectively about him, was a man who could hold a lot of potential for Freed. Every time he thought of Gajeel's history lesson about his culture, something inside Freed burned with anticipation.

Gajeel and him could be something interesting. Something new.

It didn't answer how they'd gotten into this situation.

Pushing himself up, Gajeel was now eye level with Freed. His intoxicatingly red eyes ensnared Freed, and the grin of delightfully sharp teeth held a promise of excitement. Gajeel leant forward, twisting so he was on all fours and trapping Freed in place on the sofa. He leant in so close that Freed could feel his breath on his lips.

"Let's take yer mind off things," Gajeel promised.

Gajeel all but pounced onto Freed, knocking him back. The world seemed to swirl and distort around them, and in the blink of an eye Freed had left his study and they were both in the forest clearing again. Freed was splayed out on his back, Gajeel pinning his hands above his head. Gajeel's clothes were gone now, as were Freed's, and the cold damp stone below him made him shiver with anticipation.

This was a dream, Freed realised. Hardly an innocent dream, though.

Leaning further down, Gajeel's teeth were biting and nibbling at Freed's neck, sucking and marking him without restraint. Freed groaned quietly, and Gajeel laughed a little in his ear. He began to pepper light kisses over Freed's jaw, landing the final kiss to the left of his lips.

"Yer mine, pretty-boy," Gajeel murmured, voice like seductive honey. "And you ain't getting away."

"I didn't intend on leaving," Freed heard himself saying, and he could see Gajeel's eyes sparkling. "But, let me correct you Gajeel. I am not yours. But you are mine."

Freed wrapped his legs tight around Gajeel's - the rubbing of their cocks together made them both moan - but then flipped them over. Gajeel was pushed onto his own back with Freed straddling his hips. It was a reflection of how they'd been when wrestling in the forest, but this felt different. Whereas their fight had been charged with anger and resentment, this was fuelled by lust. They were two men in the depths of passion, with the world extending only to one another.

Gajeel looked up at Freed with an expression he could only describe as horny, and Freed relished the sight. He leant down and began peppering light kisses on the man's muscular body, smirking with a little cruelty as he bit Gajeel's nipple and made him groan.

"Sensitive, aren't you?" He teased, and Gajeel glared.

"Fuckin bit me," Gajeel grunted. "I'll get ya back for that."

Freed grinned, and smirked at Gajeel when his kisses went lower and lower, down the centre of his rippling stomach muscles. Gajeel groaned again, running his hands over Freed's body. The rough calluses seemed to glide over Freed's near-unblemished stomach and chest, teasing and kneading at his muscles.

He suddenly pulled Freed down, and their strong bodies ran against one another. Freed smirked at Gajeel and began to bite at the man's skin again, loving the slight taste of metal that the man held.

"Fuck," Gajeel panted, and Freed smirked. "Yer right, I'm yours."

"As if it were in doubt," Freed chuckled, running his hand from Gajeel's chest to his abs to his dick.

He grabbed both of their members and started to stroke them, thrusting his body to rub against Gajeel's abs. Gajeel groaned and moaned, and Freed felt fire coursing through him as the sudden fury of an orgasm rocked him. Gajeel seemed to notice, and smirked up at him with a beautifully cocky look. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew he was to blame.

Fuck, it was going to happen. So close. So damn close-

Then he woke up.

He was in his bed, panting and sweating under the sheets. His head swam in confusion for a moment, and he blinked himself open. It was earlier in the morning than he normally would be awake in, and the sensation was confusing for a moment. That quickly gave way to a horrid flush of embarrassment at what his dream had been. There was something twisted about dreaming about a man he barely knew, and had spent the better part of a week quarreling, in such a depraved way. It was worse still given how Freed's subconscious had wanted to fuck in the same place they had hated one another.

Should he do something about it, though? Gajeel was undoubtedly a gorgeous man in every sense of the word. Freed could admit a broad chested man with piercings was a turn on, albeit a turn on that was new to Freed. But they were barely getting along as colleagues, let alone even friends.

No, he would just have to ignore this. A cold shower and a morning run would settle his mind and put his head on straight.

——

"Gods dammit," Gajeel grunted, and Freed winced a little as the other man pushed himself off from the ground. "You sure you ain't S-Class with shit like this?"

The two men were in Freed's expansive backyard, surrounded by a ring of fire. Their training exercise of the day had been to have them fight side-by-side against a common enemy. Rather than having another mage come and fight against them, Freed had decided to use another aspect of his simulation runes to create what he called a Mimic. It was a being made up of runes, meant to simulate an opponent. Freed had fueled it with the magic and techniques of their guildmates, and had instructed it to try and beat them in a fight.

More than anything, it was a distraction. After the dream - and Gajeel's slip of the tongue the night before, which had sent a wave of delighted warmth through Freed's heart - Freed needed to refocus his attention. They were here to train, that's all.

"How the hell d'ya have enough magic to have that thing so powerful while yer fighting like normal?" Gajeel asked, panting as he faced the mimic.

"I have an excess of magical energy this time of year," Freed explained, flicking away the few droplets of blood that were dripping down his arms onto his hands. "It's best to use it rather than allow it to linger."

Gajeel nodded, seemingly understanding why Freed had magic and why he shouldn't have any excess magic around him.

The mimic was walking towards them both slowly: a wireframe made of runes. It made a gesture with its hand and suddenly a torrent of Max's sand shot up, a whirlwind of a sandstorm. Freed quick-casted two walls of runes to protect them both, gritting his teeth slightly as his magic took a hammering of relentless sand. It was difficult to see through the miasma of sand, and Freed squinted slightly to see where the mimic was standing.

Suddenly, Gajeel was standing in front of him, body made of metal again. His arms crossed before him, Freed heard a sickly sounding clash of metal on metal. When Gajeel jumped back, Freed saw that a runic replica of one of Erza's swords had been flung towards him, cutting through the runes that had only been meant to protect them from the sand.

"Thanks," Freed panted. "How did you see it?"

"Heard it," Gajeel explained, closing his eyes and clearly focusing on his other senses. "He's to the left of us, I think. Using Juvia's magic."

The torrent of water slammed into them both before either man had time to react, and Freed grunted as he was pushed to the back of the circle of fire. Gajeel washed up beside him, as soaked to the bone as Freed was, coughing up magically made water. Freed was on his feet first, as Gajeel had taken the brunt of the attack. When he saw the mimic getting closer while Gajeel was recovering, Freed pulled out his sword and brandished it before him.

Borrowing transformation from either Elman or perhaps Pantherlilly, the runic man grew into an imposing figure of unnatural muscles. It lurched towards Freed with a monstrously large fist, aiming for Freed's head in a cruel punch.

For a moment, Freed could do nothing but parry the onslaught of blows. His sword swung quickly through the air, blocking every punch, kick and attempted bite from the runic creature. The speed of the blows were so fast and relentless that Freed didn't have the chance to land a counter attack, and he grit his teeth as he glanced over his shoulder and towards where Gajeel had been. He was no longer there, and Freed had to hope he was readying for an attack.

The next second, a metal fist slammed into the mimic's stomach, knocking it back a few feet.

"You okay?" Freed asked when Gajeel stood beside him again.

"Just winded," Gajeel explained, iron creeping over his body entirely now. "You?"

"Fine," Freed stated, though his arms were aching slightly now.

They both looked at the mimic, which was standing still. The wireframe of runes was inhumanely looking at them, and Freed knew that it was calculating their next steps. A moment later, lightning seemed to be gathering over the mimic's hands, crawling up its body in the same way Laxus' lightning would moments before he would use his dragon's roar. Freed's eyes widened a little - he had given the mimic too much of his magical energy if it could use dragon slayer magic - and he quickly realised that he didn't have time to write the lighting repellent runes on them both.

"Shit," Gajeel murmured, looking at the ground. "The water."

Freed looked down at the puddle of water below them, and then realised the plan the mimic had. Before he could think, he cast his wings and began to fly, hooking his arms around Gajeel's waist and forcing them both off the ground. The lighting magic shot from the mimic, sparks covering the pools of water on the ground.

Undeterred, the mimic began a new onslaught. Using Laki's magic now, wooden projectiles shot out towards them both, attempting to loosen Freed's grip on Gajeel to make him fall. Gajeel began to punch the projectiles, destroying them on contact.

"You've gotten rid of it before, right?" Gajeel asked between punches. "How?"

"I've not actually beaten it yet," Freed confessed, and Gajeel shifted to look towards him incredulously. Freed quickly shunted them both down when a wooden beam flew towards them. He landed them both on a dry patch of ground, before speaking again. "I treat it more like a punching bag than an opponent. Hit it as much as my body allows before dispelling it."

"Fuck that," Gajeel said firmly, rolling his shoulders back and straightening his back. Freed swallowed a little at the sight, his mind flickering back to the dream for just a moment. "It's a spell. Spells can be beaten, and I'm not giving up against that fucking thing."

"Quite right," Freed agreed. His runes were not going to defeat him.

"I say we fucking plaster it with magic," Gajeel suggested, rolling his sleeve up in a show of determination. It was an attractive look. "We both use our most powerful spells on it at the same time, we'll kill the fucking thing."

"Sounds good," Freed nodded, raising his sword. "Ready when you are."

"Iron Dragon's Roar!" Gajeel bellowed at the same time as Freed allowed his most pain filled runes to flow out of him.

Suddenly, Freed was on a high.

Everything about the spell felt different. Like his body was alight with a level of power that he hadn't ever felt before. His blood was burning, his magical energy exploding, his soul flipping and roaring in delight. The magic seemed to be fighting to leave him as if bending to his will more than it ever had before. The power felt lighter than normal, but so much more powerful. Every aspect of the spell felt like it belonged to him and him alone.

He seemed to almost leave his own body as he watched his runes flow forward. They spiralled into Gajeel's roar, merging and coagulating with the Dragon slayer magic. Freed's body felt cold as if pressed against metal, and it was a euphoric feeling.

Gods, what was happening. It was amazing.

Tendrils of runes shot forward and wrapped around the mimic, trapping his limbs as if in bondage. The pain spells seemed to ignite, and the mimic thrashed like any person would under the intense agony Freed's runes would cause. It was then that the dragon's roar hit the bound mimic, and the flurry of iron and magic slammed into it like a relentless torrent of power.

The mimic was ripped apart, disintegrating in the overwhelming magical power. The remaining fire, water and wood dissipated as the mimic died away, leaving Freed and Gajeel alone.

Had they just… Had that been a…

"Holy shit," Gajeel sounded giddy. "Holy fucking shit! We did a fuckin' Unison Raid!"

"Yes," Freed gasped. "I think we did."

"Damn," Gajeel was looking at him with an elated smile, still covered in iron. "I ain't ever done anything like that. Holy shit, that felt so fuckin' good right. Fuck, I feel like I could take down anything right now, y'know what I mean?"

"I do," Freed agreed, and couldn't help but smile at Gajeel.

But this didn't make sense. Unison raids were meant to be a combination of magic between people who had a deep, innately personal connection. So far, all Freed had felt about Gajeel was a mess of confusion. Sometimes he hated the man, and sometimes he had an odd lust for him. So either his magic seemed to know something he did not, or he simply misunderstood how unison raids worked.

"We're gonna kick ass in the tournament," Gajeel smirked, looking to Freed again. His smile faltered a little, and his gaze went slightly to the side. Freed frowned when Gajeel let out a small, "Huh."

"What's wrong?" Freed asked.

"Well, don't get pissy," Gajeel said, voice fighting back amusement and a smile trying to break out again. "But, looks like I kinda left you a reminder of what's happened."

Freed frowned further, and Gajeel slowly brought a metallic hand. It looked as though he was going to cup Freed's cheek for a moment, but then his hand turned into a solid slab of metal. It took Freed a moment to realise he was meant to use the metal as a mirror, and looked at the reflection that Gajeel was offering him. He immediately saw what Gajeel had meant.

During their unison raid, Gajeel had somehow pierced Freed.

On his right ear, five small metal rings, all bullet-grey, had been infused into his ear. Small barbels had been placed on the inside of both of his eyebrows, sharp and unobtrusive. He couldn't feel them at all, and Freed gently ran a finger over them all, a tingling shiver going down him at the feeling. There was a complete and undeniable sensation of rightness to Gajeel's metal being part of him. It was like he belonged as a part of him.

The dream came to mind again, with Gajeel pinning him down and claiming Freed as his own. It was a coincidence, of course, but Freed couldn't help but flush. It felt like he had been claimed.

He should have protested, but instead whispered, "Wow."

"You ain't mad, right?" Gajeel asked.

"No," Freed said immediately. "A little shocked, perhaps. But, well, they look rather good, I think."

"They look fucking hot," Gajeel whispered, and Freed didn't know if he was meant to hear it, so said nothing. The sound of Gajeel's iron turning back to skin filled the silence, and when Freed looked towards him, he paused. Gajeel noticed. "What's wrong, City-Boy?"

"Well," Freed spoke before he could feel disappointed about the return of the nickname. "It appears my magic reciprocated your iron's ideas."

Gajeel's exposed arm was covered in black runes that looked indistinguishable from a tattoo. It covered his right arm entirely, and Gajeel was looking down at the foreign lettering with an overly wide and overly excited smile. He seemed enamoured with the change to his body, and Freed wondered how he might react if he knew what the writing said.

'Ownership.'

Dammit, Freed's magic had essentially laid claim to Gajeel. Of course, 'ownership' was a rough translation, and the actual meaning was a term of endearment. But that was worse! Freed had not only claimed the man, but essentially written something akin to 'My one and only.' Nobody would know, of course, but it didn't change the fact he had done it.

"Yer panicking," Gajeel chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Wanted some ink for a while, you just saved me some jewels."

"You should be angry about this," Freed frowned. "Why aren't you?"

"You should be angry about the piercings, because they're not the type you can remove," Gajeel shrugged. "Why aren't you pissed?"

"Because," Freed began, and sighed. He should be honest about this. "Because having them feels right."

"So does this," Gajeel looked to his arm, grinning slightly. "Feels like I've been missing somethin', kinda. Like I've finally found my style and this completes it."

Freed felt the same, but couldn't say it. Instead, he said, "Why were we able to perform a unison raid? People with connections much deeper than our's have tried and failed. It doesn't make sense."

"Does it matter?" Gajeel shrugged, and Freed stared incredulously because of course it did. When Gajeel looked back to Freed, he seemed to have reached an epiphany that Freed would love to know. "Look, I get why you're feelin' fucked up about it, but there's no point. This week, we were both pretty determined to hate each other and piss each other off, right?"

"Yes, I suppose we were."

"That didn't fuckin' last, right?" Gajeel shrugged. "We were compelled to hate each other by a demon, and we got over it. When we were solvin' puzzles and stopped thinkin' about what we thought of each other, we were a pretty good team. When we had a common enemy, we did a fuckin' unison raid."

"What's your point?" Freed asked, frowning.

"When we get out of our heads, we work out. So why don't we stop fucking thinking about this shit," Gajeel shrugged. "Maybe we take things as they come. We work well together even after we pissed each other off, so why not just accept that? Our magics work together, let's use that to our advantage," Then he looked away, a little bashful. "Seems to me, we're a good team by nature. So why not just let it happen?"

"And the markings?"

"We don't think," Gajeel blushed. "And we see what happens."

When Gajeel looked back at Freed, he had a small, shy smile. It was honest, and Freed felt breathless.

See what happens? He could do that.

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

19 - Clean Canvas

This chapters songs:

Here She Comes; Slowdive

Dog Cuddles; Dad Sports

Dream Girl; Crisaunt

- Y. L. Perspective

I tapped my chin with the pen, frustrated that you weren't able to come up with anything. "Ah! Koshi, that hurt!" I yell at him as he softens his hands upon my shoulders. He was giving me a gentle back massage while I tried writing my first lyrics, but I was struggling to find the right words to say.

"Sorry!" He then stops squeezing my shoulders, letting his hands slide down my torso, and pull me into a hug from behind. His head nuzzled into my neck as he spoke. "What is the song about?"

I shrug. "I don't even know yet. Maybe I should just write about how much of an untalented and wasteful girl I am!" I scoff, rolling my eyes back. Now, out of all moments, my feelings decide to disappear.

Both Koshi and I say criss-cross on his bed with one single lamp on in his room. His room was not at all what I was expecting. I'd perceived it to be much messier in my head, the way an average teenage boys' room would be. But no! It was spotless and quite basic. Still, I felt very comfortable in his arms as I attempted to write down some ideas. Feeling his heartbeat on my back was enough to make me feel at home.

"Why don't you write about us, Y/n?" He asks me as he pulls me back and forth in a sway motion. The suggestion had already popped into my mind before. But if I could write about it, what would I say? How I'm in love with someone who won't tie the knot between us?

'What am I doing at his house if he's not even my boyfriend? I've got to gain some self-respect.'

Perhaps bringing it up wouldn't be as bad as I thought. So, I pull myself away from his arms and sit in front of him, fully staring at his confused face.

"What is it?" His fair voice questions, one of his fingers attempting to fiddle with my oversized t-shirt.

There was so much to say. Why arent you my boyfriend yet? Why won't you tell me what's on your mind for once? Aren't you excited about the training camp? But I decide to pick the first question. "Koshi, what's there to write about? I...I know that we both like each other very much, but what does it matter if you won't call me your girlfriend?" I look down at the grey shorts I wore, afraid that he would be disappointed in me for wanting more from him.

"I didn't know you felt that way. I guess...I guess I just wanted you to feel comfortable around me, not forced to be with me," Koshi mutters under his breath, ashamed he underestimated my love for him.

"Well of course I want to be with you!" I exclaim, leaning my head onto his chest. It worries me that he felt insecure about his love. It wasn't as if he could be giving me too much affection. So why didn't he trust that I loved him?

I sigh while he rubs my back in a circular motion, wishing he would tell me things that bothered him like this. "So you wouldn't mind being my girlfriend, Y/n?" The man's words are clear to me when he said them, not lagged like all the other times.

I nod my head. "Of course not."

"Hm, okay. Then for our first memory of being a couple, I wanna hold you," Koshi says, laying us both down onto his mattress. He leans over me, stretching to grab one of the blankets on his shelf, and unfolding it over us.

"But it's so cold. Why don't we just go under your comforter?" I ask him, pulling slightly at the corner of the thick bed sheet. But he denies my request and pulls my wrist back.

He says, "Uh-Uh-Uh! I prefer it to be cold. When we go to your house, we can use the comforter. If you're that cold then you're gonna have to hug me tighter."

I'm surprised at how stubborn Koshi was being with me but glad he was becoming more comfortable with sharing his opinion. He treated me like a princess most of the time instead of asking for what he really wants. Even if it was just the matter of a blanket.

"Do you wanna help me try and think of something to write about?" I ask him in the most delicate voice.

"What's something that saddens you, Y/n? Something that you're worried will cause you despair towards the future?" Koshi asks me. I genuinely hadn't thought about it yet. "Love is more than just feelings. I think it comes with a lot of pain. Has there ever been any pain that you've encountered during being in love?"

"Not really." My words couldn't be more honest. With Toruku, I felt sick that I had a crush on my best friend's boyfriend. And when she passed, those feelings for him weren't nearly as strong as the ones I felt about her death. As for Koshi, I've only been scared of the pain. But I hadn't endured it yet. At least that was what I thought. Truth is that every lasting second I spent with him could only cause me more and more pain in the future. "Maybe when I find what to write about, I shouldn't tell you. I should let you figure it out when I'm done with it."

"Planning something behind my back?! How evil of you." Koshi jokes, leaning on one of his elbows to hold himself up as he looked at me. With the pale moonlight shining down on him and the lamp lighting the room up slightly, he looked more beautiful than ever. I was glad that I was the one to be able I witness such an ethereal moment with him. Especially since he held me in a special place. I was his first love, after all. That's more important than any relationship he could have had with previous girls.

Attempting to obtain reassurance, I grow curious and begin to play with my new boyfriend, asking small questions. "So...what does it feel like to have sex with a girl, Kou? I've never done that before... do they smell nice? Are they soft?" It was obvious that I'd caught him off guard, for he stuttered and looked at me strangely. "I promise I won't get jealous if you tell me. I only want to know what it's like. It may help me with writing if you tell me about passionate moments like that."

Given that I'd never done anything that was borderline sexual with anyone else, I was curious about how it felt. Both physically and mentally.

"Uhm—stressful. And I haven't done it as much as you might think, so I haven't ever enjoyed it." It comes to me as a shock that he didn't have a slightly good experience that he could tell me about.

"Wh-really?! But...I thought all guys liked it! You're saying it didn't even feel good?" I waft my hand into the cold air, confused.

"No, silly. Of course it felt good, but it wasn't as passionate as you think. I wasn't ever in love with any of those girls, so it only made me feel worse. Sex isn't good for those who aren't ready for it," he explains to me.

I nod, understanding a bit more of what he meant. "Does that mean you weren't ready?"

"Mhm. I wasn't," he says. Deciding to switch up the question, he asks me, "So, what is it like to have sex with a guy? I bet they aren't very good-smelling, are they?"

I blink a few times. "Uhm, I dunno," I say, growing shy at the question. "I haven't ever...you know...had sex."

Too scared to look at Koshi, I stuff my head into a pillow and sigh obnoxiously. Though I knew he wouldn't make that much of a big deal out of it, I didn't want him thinking I was a prude. A lot of people that knew I was a virgin made fun of me for it. Truth was, I'd never found someone worthy of taking my virginity. Many told me that it was horrible for your mental health, especially for younger people like me. Not to mention how scared I was that whoever took my virginity would be rough with me and it would hurt like hell.

"Hey, hey...don't get all embarrassed on me. A lot of people haven't. That's nothing to be ashamed about. Being a virgin doesn't make you any less of a woman. If it were up to me, I'd go back and stay a virgin until the right time," Koshi states. His attempts to cheer me up were sweet, but not working all that much.

"What do you think, Kou? Do you like me better that way? You know, as a virgin?" I ask him, slightly peeking up at his lost expression.

Yes, it was something very awkward to ask. But I did want to know what he preferred. Not that I would be able to change last second if he didn't like me as I was.

"Th—that isn't something I have power over, so I don't think about it. But...you could say I prefer it."

I'm happy with his answer. Still, I was curious about the reason, so I ask, "and why is that?"

"Well...um...I'm not too sure. Not to jump to any conclusions, but think it's because...if you weren't a virgin, then our first time together wouldn't be as memorable. It's sure is selfish of me to say, but I would rather you remember me as someone who shared that moment with you. That's why I wish I would have waited until I met you," Koshi began to grow flustered towards the end of his explanation.

"And if you wanna put it into a metaphor then you could say that being a virgin is like being a blank canvas. You can only hope that someone will make something lovely of you by the time they're finished."

I haven't ever heard someone describe being a virgin in such a beautiful way. And he was right— the first time is always something you remember. That is if it's enjoyable for you. I could only hope that I would lose my virginity to someone as gentle as him.

"Then when the time comes, could you please be that person, Koshi?" I spoke, laying a hand on his chest. My nervous nature was far too obvious for me to hide. But thankfully, Koshi didn't mind it. He knew asking something like that took courage. Such profound questions weren't something to joke about.

My heart race died down when I hear him tell me, "Of course, love."

Koshi quickly gets up to turn off the lamp and I make myself more comfortable under the thin blankets and many pillows he had on his bed. When he comes back, he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me close near him.

It was no wonder that he didn't like to talk about his previous experiences with girls. He hadn't enjoyed them. But I was sure of it: and day, I'll make it up to Koshi.

"Goodnight, love. Maybe tomorrow you'll come up with something to write about, hm?"

"Yeah, goodnight." With one last kiss on the cheek, Koshi and I doze off to sleep.

-

Hey everyone!! Just so you know, I have a special playlist on my Spotify that I made just for this fanfiction. I always add the songs that I include in the chapters, so please go check that out in case you'd like to listen while reading!!

I love you always!! Thank you for reading I do appreciate it <3 make sure to take care of yourself

AND PLS VOTE >:(

- estrxlar

[anyeot]

From my own experiences, it's all about going on your OWN journey. And some of you are on the journey right now, not even realizing it. It's your own HERO'S JOURNEY. You start off as the FOOL, but you're a WISE-FOOL (paradoxically), because you took the leap of faith to step out on what you believed. After your journey is over, you'll eventually come back around with treasure in your hand.

And the greatest treasure of all will be the transformation within YOURSELF, which is what I said the other day about that inner alchemy, turning inner base-lead into inner gold. What you decided to have faith in is irrelevant, it's all about the journey itself. It's about the challenges and even sometimes, disastrous pitfalls you encounter along the way. It was the journey itself that turned inner coal into an inner diamond. It was the journey, in and of itself, that turned you from a FOOL, into a WISE GOD. Yes, Ye are gods, the kingdom of heaven is in YOU, you are the savior, demigod, superhero of your own story.

ALL THE MYSTERY SCHOOLS (INCLUDING CHRISTIANITY) POINTED TO THIS VERY THING

... and that is what it's all about and what many early Christians believed. The council of Nicea under the auspices of Constantine. The whole battle was whether a man is saved by grace through faith, or if a person is saved through the DIVINIZATION PROCESS (Arianism), which meant you had to suffer and go through challenges in order to fully become like the Christ. To become Divine within yourself. It's both faith and the inner process of becoming Divine like the God-Man. You take a leap of faith on any of these myths (as a WISE FOOL), you go on your journey by faith (faith is foolish to those who don't believe), and eventually, you experience INNER ALCHEMY, turning from a mere foolish human to a Wise God . The hierosgamos / merging of Animus and Anima / Union of the Divine Masculine and Divine Goddess WITHIN YOU where the kingdom of heaven is.

THE BLUEPRINT ROADMAP WAS GIVEN TO YOU THROUGH THESE MYTHS ; THE DYING AND RISING DEMIGODS WHO WERE BORN HUMAN, HAD TO COME HERE, AND GO THROUGH THEIR "PASSION" IN ORDER TO RESURRECT AS DIVINE

These myths are all very similar. All of them have a "hero" that goes on a journey, faces great challenges, does great exploits, even descends to hell, only to rise again as a god. These are roadmaps for you to follow, because YOU are the demigod of your own story. Divinity is in you. The divinization process begins with childlike faith in childhood fairytales and myths, which all seem foolish to believe in but they are only conduits by which you use to mature and grow. At the fullness of growth, you won't need myths anymore, because you will then create YOUR OWN STORY. I've built you a bridge and given you a roadmap. As you walk out on faith, the road markers will appear along the way to let you know where you're at in the storyline. Those road-markers along the way will appear in the form of SYNCHRONICITY. GO!

I understand that it's comfortable believing that the myth is true. It's comforting as a kid to believe Santa Clause is coming down the chimney every December 25th. Even when you are full grown, you still want to keep your kids excited that Santa is coming. But eventually, after the Santa story has served its purpose, you have to go beyond that.

I gave you a road-map. It matters not where you want to go, Miami, Seattle, New York City, Oklahoma City, Dallas, Los Angeles, etc.. the roadmap is the same, but the routes may be different. It's all about the journey along the way. I'm still figuring this out myself.I'm up all hours of the night thinking about the deeper mysteries of life, researching, seeking, trying to put the puzzle pieces together, etc..

I won't stop until my project is complete. That project being ME. I will sacrifice myself in order to have a bridge built for my progeny and others to casually stroll across. I think I'm only at the beginning stages of this enormous monstrosity. No one could've fathomed some of these huge bridges like the Golden Gate or the Brooklyn Bridge being built, until... they were. Now people drive over them every day, back and forth, without even thinking twice about how it got built, what it took to put the thing together, the man-hours, the hard labor, etc.. But nevertheless, that bridge is THERE. When I'm through, that BRIDGE WILL BE 'THERE.' And once that bridge is built..., then you yourself will get to decide what type of 'city' you build on the other side.

As a man, we LOVE to build. Before some of these great bridges were built, people were stuck on one side. Until men got together and ground out hard work, tons of man-power, hard labor, to create a bridge for their families and communities to benefit from. Before it was built, many people (who didn't understand the art of architecture or had no knowledge of iron-working or building), couldn't have fathomed a monstrosity like that to get them to the other side. It just took those few skilled men to build a bridge that allowed millions of people to stroll over these bridges day after day, even though the majority of the public would have no clue on where to even BEGIN creating one of these bridges. I'm building a bridge and I won't stop until it's built. Other men with just as much skill in this 'bridge-building' trade have come to help, as we stand on the shoulders of the giants before us, using their knowledge, and building upon the wisdom they've bequeathed us with. When it's finished AND IT WILL BE FINISHED, THERE'S NO STOPPING THAT, you'll have all that you need to figure out many of the deepest mysteries of this life.

The Greek Oracle at Delphi said :

"Know thyself"... some believe that Pythagoras added the statement, "and thou shalt know... the universe and God."

All of these myths, stories, fairytales, folk-lores that describe heroes and demigods aren't about THEM, they are about YOU. Nothing more than roadmaps for you to follow in order to know thyself. All the struggles you encounter, even the pain of death itself, was all meant to prove your 'Divinity' as you resurrect and rise above it.

The scene in the story where Jesus looks out at the people and says "The harvest is ripe and ready", meaning that they'd had enough of the 'scripture quoting' and 'tales', it was time to reveal the 'embodied truth' of those tales. You seek the scriptures, thinking in them you have life, but those scriptures testify about ME. I AM THE EMBODIMENT OF THE 'TRUTH' and so are YOU. The people have had their fill of the myths and folklores. They are ready for the real 3-D version of it! I'm not trying to bring you into a cliche' or a religious group of people, but to bring you into YOURSELF. Not to be controlled by others, or tell you to follow a strict set of rules or believe in any literal version of fairytales, but to follow and create your own story. That's the real one, the others were meant to divide you, conquer you and CONTROL YOU.

They've covered the true mysteries with their Literal version / Constantine version of the myth. St. Jerome was on the side that won during this Council of Nicea in 325AD. His Latin Vulgate Version of the Bible was the only official Bible throughout the entire known world for over 1,000 years (4th Century - 17th Century). Of course it is filled with scriptures that supported their theory, and discredited the theories of Arius (Arianism - Divinization Process). The KJV came into existence in the 17th Century, which is really nothing more than a translated version of the Vulgate. It's all the same thing. For most Christians, it was the only version of the Bible they ever encountered. The Vulgate's influence throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance is even greater than that of the King James Version in English. For Christians during these times, the phraseology and wording of the Vulgate permeated all areas of the culture.

When someone flips on the light after you've been in the dark for so long, you have that brief moment of squinting and wincing because it hurts to look, but eventually your eyes will adjust... They already are...