#YOU WAKE UP LATE ONCE AND YOU MISS A NEWS CYCLE

[no-cap-ricorn]

NEWYORKTIMES HEADLINE AHAHAGHAGBANHAGAHA BOBUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

WHAT HUH

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Mention of death, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Happy 6k to me!!! It's finally here. Those who already read the unedited fic know the scenes I added here... I went crazy again and wrote additional 3kish words. I hope you enjoy!

“Does self-love mean nothing for you?”

You commented lightly at the second female lead as you flipped the page. In your hand was the manhwa your friends were gushing about. They went on and on about how dreamy the main lead was for weeks and how annoying the second female lead was until you finally gave in and went to a bookstore one late night. The cover was unassuming, a mere illustration of a man with dark hair and a milky white skin. Despite the chatters of the few customers, it was like it all went silent when you held the manhwa in your hand. You had no rationale as to why you were staring so hard at the main lead, nor why you felt a jolt of electricity when you traced your finger on his face.

The sudden and inexplainable zap of electricity was enough for you to put the manhwa back to its shelf where it belonged. You had enough for today, you thought. It must be your late nights that finally got to you. You turned and started to walk away when you heard someone called your name.

“Are you not going to buy that?”

You blinked owlishly, turning to look your surroundings before realizing that the voice had come from behind you where an old woman with a pleasant smile on her face stood. You didn’t hear her walk, sure that it was only you in that section of the bookstore.

“Excuse me?” you asked in confusion with her sudden question.

She offered you a smile before reaching for the manhwa you were touching moments ago. “This. Are you not going to buy this?”

You glanced at the book in her hands, the cover innocuous enough—a pale-faced man with dark eyes, his expression unreadable, a haunting sort of beauty that seemed to shimmer under the dim light of the store. The same man whose face had burned into your mind the moment you’d traced your finger over it.

"Huh?" you muttered, not entirely sure what to say. "Oh, no... I—" You fumbled with your words, caught between politeness and that unsettling pull you couldn’t deny. “I’m just looking.”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering, but there was something deeper there now—an unreadable warmth and perhaps... a warning? "Such a shame. This is the last piece," she continued, her fingers running over the cover with a tenderness that made your heart race. "Are you sure you don’t want to enter his universe?"

You stared at her, perplexed. The bookstore was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of other customers. But it felt like there was something else in the air now—something heavier. More alive.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking the strange tension that had settled between you and the clerk. You fumbled it out, your heart still racing. It was a text from one of your friends: "Did you finally get the manhwa? He's sooooo hot, right?!?"

You looked from your phone to the manhwa and there it was again. It was like something was calling you to touch the book. On the other hand, your flight or fight instinct had never been this high, urging you to walk away as soon as possible. The old woman’s gaze never left you, her expression still serene, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. The tension between you felt palpable, like a tether was drawing you back to the book, back to the man on the cover.

"You know what, dear," she continued, her voice now almost conspiratorial, "since we're almost closing, it’s on the house. Let me wrap it up for you."

When you asked her why, it was a line you should have taken in face value.

She said that reading this will change your life.

All that was how you found yourself on your bed with the manhwa and feeling bad for the second female lead. Okay fine, she was not exactly kind. She was a bit bitchy and the typical rich kid who fell for her childhood friend who of course, fell for another woman below their stature. She devised devious ways to get the main female lead out of their lives which only managed to push Min Yoongi, the male lead character, away from her. She wanted him so badly, and she had nothing else to cling to. In the end, he left her alone when all she had was him.

She was left alone, Yoongi gone from her life, and all she had left were her schemes and bitterness. You couldn’t help but wonder what she could have been if she had just let go. If she had let him go, instead of holding on so tightly that she suffocated herself.

She wasn’t a villain, you told yourself, though you knew she was far from a saint.

It wasn’t that you were defending what she did. It was just that you felt for her, strangely. You had no family of your own too, and maybe that was why you held on to your friends. You thought that if you were as pretty and as wealthy as her, then you wouldn’t spend all your time and energy pining after Yoongi. You thought about her—so pretty, so polished—and you wondered, If I were her, would I have acted the same way? If you had that beauty, that wealth, that presence, would you still feel this same deep ache for someone who couldn’t love you back? Sure, he was all that. He was handsome, smart, and so manly. For a while, it was just the two of them in their little world until he met the female lead. But then again, if you were her, you would let them be and look for someone who would love you as you were. Surely, there was someone out there for her. You wondered if it would be easy to just walk away, you thought. But then, you didn’t know what it was like to have everything and still lose the one thing that mattered most. To feel like there was no one left who could make you feel whole.

The story was so intriguing with the right amount of suspense that kept you up all night. Despite you being a non-mahwa reader, you could not bring yourself to stop reading until you reached the ending.

The words of the final chapters echoed in your mind as you read through them. Yoongi’s happiness came at her expense, and as you turned the page, you saw the final blow: She died. She died because Yoongi decided to save the main female lead from drowning instead of his childhood friend. Just like that. No grand redemption, no change of heart. She was gone. “Of course, she dies,” you murmured in annoyance as you flipped the page. “Was that really necessary for this Yoongi to get his happy ending?”

You put the manhwa down on your chest and looked up at your bedroom ceiling. You felt tears forming in your eyes and before you knew it, they were streaming down your cheeks and onto the manhwa. “Poor you. You deserved better,” you whispered as sleep took you away.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next time you opened your eyes, it felt like you were in a dream. More precisely, you woke up to a familiar room. You just couldn’t place it yet where you saw this room before. You sat up from the most comfortable bed you had ever been on, your eyes roaming over the whole room. Where were you?

You looked down and noticed that you were wearing a silk sleepwear…You didn’t own this. In fact, you never liked it because you couldn’t afford it. Did someone dress you in this? Were you kidnapped?

Panic surged through you like a wave, a cold knot tightening in your stomach. The thought alone pushed you to stand up quickly, your head turning rapidly to every corner of the room when a mirror across the room caught your eye. You walked over, unsure of what you were even looking for, but the reflection that met you made your heart stop.

Holy shit.

You froze in front of the mirror, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. The face staring back at you was undeniably familiar but was definitely not yours. It was her—the woman from the manhwa.

Your hand lifted slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, and touched your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. The reflection mimicked your every move, except there was no mistake: it wasn’t you. This version of you was flawless—her skin porcelain smooth, her lips full and painted in a soft, understated pink. You blinked hard, willing the image to change, but it remained the same, impossibly perfect.

And then it hit you, harder than any realization should have: You were in her world. You were in her body. You were the second female lead.

What the fuck was this dream?!

You pinched yourself, willing yourself to wake up from this peculiar dream where you were not you, and instead, you were someone of a fictional character. All that it did was reddened her fair skin. You truly tried not to panic, but no one and nothing could have ever prepared you from waking up in someone else’s body! More so of a fictional one. Similarly, you knew this could not be possible. You must have been dreaming.

You were just dreaming…right?

The knock on the door snapped you out of your stupor, your mind reeling as the panic tightened its grip.

“Miss? Sir Yoongi is here to see you,” the voice outside the door called, timid, hesitant.

You blinked, the words barely registering at first. Yoongi? No. No, no, no. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and the world around you seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a shaky, disbelieving breath.

"Y-yoongi?" Your voice sounded strange, foreign in this body, yet with an edge of authority, the voice of someone accustomed to being looked at, obeyed.

“N-no. Why?”

“T-to visit you, Miss. He went straight here from the airport after his three-month work in New York,” she explained with a terrified tone in her voice as though one wrong word would upset you. It did upset you upon horrifying realization that you were in the first chapter of the manhwa. He was coming to see the second female lead, the one who would only ever be a part of his life for the briefest, most painful moments. The one who would disappear when the main female lead entered the picture, leaving behind nothing but heartache and regret.

This was the moment—the beginning of her unraveling. The beginning of your unraveling.

You stumbled back from the mirror, almost tripping over the hem of the silk nightgown that clung to your skin. It felt wrong. This wasn’t your body. This wasn’t you. You couldn’t be her. You couldn't.

But there you were—she was—standing in front of a mirror, and it was your face that stared back, the same face that would soon be abandoned in favor of the main lead. The face that would die tragically, just as Yoongi chose someone else.

A cold sweat broke out on your skin as you pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart race, the pulse throbbing in your throat. The maid outside the door was waiting. She was waiting. Yoongi was waiting.

“Miss? Are you coming?” The maid asked again, sounding more nervous now. “Sir Yoongi is waiting.”

You felt your legs walked to where the door was as though they had a mind of their own, as though they were simply following the plot where you had to face her childhood bestfriend, as though you had no choice in this. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and the maid stepped back with a small, nervous bow. “Miss,” she murmured softly, her eyes flicking between you and the hallway.

There he was. Yoongi. Standing in the hallway, waiting for you.

His broad back was turned to you, his focus was on the huge window overlooking the garden below. His hands were in his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the bags of designer clothes and jewelries beside him. It was always like this. Yoongi would spoil her with everything, his love a quiet promise wrapped in material things. His affection was given in expensive packages, just because he missed her. It was a thing the main lead, Yoongi, and her had for the longest times. He spoiled her rotten, and in turn, she loved him unconditionally until he realized that it wasn’t her love that he wanted. It was someone else’s.

You felt your chest tighten as you stepped forward, closer to him. And then, slowly, he turned around, his gaze landing on you, his eyes sharp and calculating, as though he was seeing you for the first time. He was just as handsome as you'd imagined, his sharp features bathed in the soft light of the chandelier overhead. His expression, however, was unreadable—his usual aloofness on full display. He had on a simple black jacket, the sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing his forearms.

He was standing there, just as he had been in the manhwa—distant, untouchable, and perfect. The kind of person who seemed to have everything. Everything except the one thing that would make him whole. His lips curved into a faint smirk, the usual aloofness settling over him like a second skin. Yoongi. So damn confident. So certain of himself. Yet there was something flickering beneath that exterior, something you couldn't place.

He took a step toward you, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy, too real. The space between you both seemed like an eternity, but somehow you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

He raised his brows when you remained motionless – so dissimilar to how the second female lead threw herself in his arms in the first chapter. “What?” he said, his voice a quiet challenge. “Didn’t you miss me?”

His words hit you like a cold wave. Didn’t you miss me?

The phrase was so familiar, but it made you flinch. It was the same thing he had said to her. The second female lead. Her. The woman you had now become. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze leaving you paralyzed. How were you supposed to feel? What was the right answer?

Yoongi’s smirk deepened as he took another step closer, his presence commanding the space between you both. He wasn’t giving up.

“Aigoo,” he muttered, as though your silence had amused him. “Is my princess mad at me?” He reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squishing them gently, his thumb brushing across your skin in a familiar, playful gesture. “I promise I won’t be away for that long again, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. My princess. Mad at me? It was just like the manhwa. Just like how the second female lead had fallen for him—how she’d craved his affection, how she had convinced herself that he was the only one who could make her whole.

How could she not fall for him? How could she not love him when he was this—this?

See, who wouldn’t fall for that? You understood the second female lead for falling in love with him, or why she did all those terrible things when he suddenly withdrew all his affections from her. But maybe…you could change the ending. Maybe you could find a happy ending of your own away from him. You could choose differently. You could walk away. You could find your own path, away from him, away from this tragic loop. Maybe—just maybe—there was a way for you to have a happy ending. Not the one written in the manhwa, but one you could choose. One where you didn’t lose yourself in the love of a man who could never return it.

What if you and him could all have your separate happy endings?

But also, what if this was just a dream where you’d wake up later and be in your own bed?

It was almost a week later when you realized that this wasn’t a dream. Despite repeatedly pinching yourself, you still couldn’t wake up from this nightmare. You hadn’t gone out of your room since Yoongi visited, and all messages and calls from him were promptly ignored.

You couldn’t even rule out that you were actively going insane because there was no way that this was now your reality. Something inside you was telling you to do something. It was urging you to fight, to survive, not matter how difficult it would be. It was proven when he visited you and you had no control over what happened. However, you also noted that you could do things somehow differently like not hugging him when he visited, or not being affectionate to him.

There were canon events, yes. There were things that should happen as were already dictated by the manhwa. But you also had a will in this story. And if there was a chance that this was your new reality, then you would do absolutely everything to make sure that you end up living.

You had to be smart. You had an edge, you surmised. You read the entire manhwa and you knew what was going to happen. You knew what to anticipate. And the next scene? The next scene was where Yoongi met the female lead and it would be in a charity ball you and him were attending.

You were dressed to the nines, your makeup was impeccable. Around your neck was one of the second female lead’s extravagant necklaces. The dress that she chose was immaculate, a light-colored floor-length gown that would later on be ruined by the female lead’s accident in the ball. You looked down from the unfamiliar eyes staring back at you in the mirror as your maid informed you that the car was waiting downstairs. You got this.

You weren’t used to her life of extravagance and you could feel a shot of anxiety pumping in your veins as the car neared the event. You could see reporters and cameramen lining up to capture the entrance of the wealthiest of the wealthiest. Nothing in your life could have prepared you for this. You were not a confident person…but she was. You only needed to get through this night and then slowly let the events happened. You would let the two of them fall in love with each other like it needed to be.

“We’re here, miss,” your driver announced, meeting your eyes from the rearview mirror. You took a deep breath and counted to three.

1…2…3-

The door opened and just when you opened your eyes, there he was.

Camera flashes illuminated the scene from his back, yet his focus was on you. His hand was outstretched, waiting for you to reach for it. But damn it, Min Yoongi was impeccable. Just like you, he was dressed to the nines with his tailored dark suit and his brushed up dark hair. He was the epitome of what a main lead should look like. Still, you couldn’t fault both the main and second female lead for falling in love with that face. If only you weren’t trying to stay alive, then you would most probably fall for that face, too.

Too bad you were trying to stay alive.

The weight of the moment settled heavily on your chest as you stared at his outstretched hand. The flashes of the cameras were relentless, their bursts creating a kaleidoscope of light and shadow that painted Yoongi's face with an almost ethereal glow. His dark eyes bored into yours, and for a split second, the world seemed to pause.

You hesitated, your hand hovering just out of reach. This was one of those moments, wasn't it? One of the canon events you couldn’t avoid. Taking his hand was expected, a necessary step to ensure the night unfolded as the manhwa demanded. Yet, the knowledge didn’t make it any easier.

“I don’t think you can hide from me now, princess,” Yoongi’s voice was soft but firm. In fact, there was no annoyance in his tone, only a quiet patience as though you didn’t spend the past days dodging him in every turn.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to push past the whirlwind of nerves. You had to remember who you were now—or at least who you were pretending to be. She wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t hesitate. She was poised, confident, the kind of woman who could command a room with a single glance. She was a woman who knew the power she had over society.

Plastering on a polite smile, you placed your hand in his. His fingers were warm, steady, and for a moment, the contact felt grounding. You couldn’t help but notice how his hand completely engulfed yours, how he made your hands seemed dainty in comparison to his. He helped you out of the car with a practiced grace, his touch lingering for a fraction longer than necessary. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that you felt the same electricity that you did when you first touched the manhwa.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear it.

You knew you had no choice as he guided you up the grand entrance. This was a canon event. The canon event leading up to their meeting. You had to play your part if you wanted to not experience dying in her body.

The flashes of cameras almost blinded you had it not been for Yoongi’s broad back that shielded you from them. The two of you stopped in the middle to smile for the camera, a PR thing Yoongi had to do for his company. His hand rested on the small of your back, gently pushing you closer to him. You knew what would happen like the back of your hand, and just as written, one of the reporters asked him to define his relationship status with you.

She’s the most important woman in my life.

“She’s the most important woman in my life,” Yoongi declared with unwavering sincerity, his deep voice resonating through the flashes and murmurs of the crowd. As he looked down at you, his lips curved into that signature, disarming smile—the kind that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

The ball was just as grand as you imagined. It was apparent that the rich spared no expense in this and you couldn’t imagine that you would experience this in your life. Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you, an unreadable expression flickering in his eyes as he watched you take it all in. There was something almost amused about the way he observed you, though he said nothing. It was almost comical to him how you were impressed with this when the friend he knew practically grew up in this extravagance. You were in awe at the intricate details, the food and drink being served, and the expensive jewelries that would be auctioned tonight.

“What do you want me to bid for?” Yoongi asked, his voice low and smooth as he tipped his wineglass to his lips, his dark eyes not straying from you.

You let out a short chuckle, already knowing what to say. “I want that old ring the Queen once owned,” you answered monotonously. It was the most expensive item in the auction, and exactly the kind of thing the second female lead would desire. You, on the other hand, felt that it was ridiculous to desire something that was given by someone who dearly loved the Queen. Yoongi merely lifted his dark brow before nodding his head.

As always, her will was always his command– until it wasn’t.

The bidding war for the final piece, the ring, didn’t take that long as Yoongi continuously bidded ridiculously high amounts that the businessmen could not keep up with the younger man. Yoongi didn’t even flinch as the bids shot up. He stood there, effortlessly cool, his back straight and shoulders squared, his eyes locked on the auctioneer like a predator stalking its prey. The others tried to keep pace, their offers becoming desperate, their faces flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation as Yoongi continued to raise the stakes, his voice cold and assured as he increased his offer without hesitation.

In the end, Yoongi won. And it showed with the way he turned back to you, that same smirk still dancing at corner of his lips.

This was it.

This was the moment.

Yoongi was walking to you, his expression still that of a triumphant victor as he made his way to you. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes to him. The way his dark eyes were trained on you was captivating and you were captivated. It was as though you were the only one in this room to him, like all other people could disappear and he wouldn’t even blink. In fact, you were too captivated that you almost forgot what the next scene was.

But just as was written by the author, a waitress tripped, your light-colored dress now splashed with red wine, a stark contrast. The sound of glass breaking, the accident itself, was enough to silence the whole ballroom. Your mouth hanged agape as you looked down at your dress, and then slowly, you lift your eyes to the waitress.

Your eyes met the female lead’s. Hers was comically wide as she continuously apologized to you, her expression that of panic as her manager and more people flocked to where you were.

“What happened?” Yoongi’s voice was sharp, his usual calm replaced by a low, controlled edge. His hands clasped your arms with a firm but steady grip, his gaze darting between your face and the ruined fabric of your gown. The pristine, light-colored dress was now stained with crimson, the deep red wine soaking into the fabric and spreading like an ominous bloom.

Your eyes flicked back to the waitress—her—the female lead. Just as the manhwa dictated, there she was, the unassuming heroine, standing in front of you with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she stammered apology after apology, her hands trembling as she bent down to pick up the shards of broken glass at her feet. You saw her flinched.

“I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please forgive me, Miss!” she pleaded, her voice shaky and sincere. The panic on her face was painfully familiar. You’d read this scene before. You knew every word, every gesture.

And yet, being in it now, living it—felt different.

Your dress was ruined, yes, but more importantly, this was the moment. The one where Yoongi, the ever-distant, untouchable main lead, would first notice her. Where his protective instincts would be stirred, his curiosity piqued by her clumsy, honest nature. This was where it all began—their love story.

Except right now, he wasn’t looking at her. He was still looking at you

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his brows furrowed as his thumb lightly grazed your arm, checking for any sign of injury. There was no recognition in his gaze for the woman kneeling at your feet, no acknowledgment of her presence.

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. By now, he should have been helping her, offering her a reassuring smile, gently lifting her to her feet. That was what the script demanded

But here he was, his focus entirely on you.

“I…” Your voice faltered as your mind raced to adjust. You needed to steer this back on track. The story needed to progress, or everything could spiral out of control. “I’m fine. It’s just the dress,” you said, forcing your tone to be light, dismissive, as though the ruined gown didn’t matter.

Yoongi’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “It’s not fine,” he said, his voice firm. He turned, his sharp eyes landing on the waitress. The poor girl visibly flinched under his scrutiny, her hands freezing mid-motion as she tried to gather the broken pieces.

“It was an accident,” you said quickly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Yoongi, it’s fine.” Your words were deliberate, almost desperate. You needed him to look at her, to notice her, to play his part in the story.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but at last, his gaze shifted to the waitress. There it was—that flicker of recognition. The moment his eyes softened, his expression melting into something less severe.

“Are you hurt?” he asked her, his tone still carrying a note of authority, but the sharp edges were gone. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for.

The girl shook her head quickly, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “N-no, sir! I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough,” Yoongi interrupted gently but firmly. He crouched down, his movements slow, deliberate, as he began picking up the shards of glass alongside her. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath, all eyes on the enigmatic businessman lowering himself to help a clumsy waitress. “Be careful. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said with a much softer voice. His gaze lingered on her face, and it was apparent that you were now forgotten.

And there it was—their first connection. The moment the story truly began.

You exhaled slowly, stepping back as the crowd around you began to disperse, the murmurs of the guests returning to their usual buzz. This was how it had to be. You just had to step back now and let their love story grow.

You reached the balcony and you thanked heavens that you were alone. You breathed a sigh of relief, both for the gratitude that you were alone and for surviving that scene. You were looking up at the stars when you felt a suit jacket landed on your shoulders, safely engulfing you with warmth and against the cold night.

You turned, not knowing who to expect but he was definitely not it. You didn’t even know who he was.

The handsome man met your eyes before flashing you a charming smile of his own that was enough to disarm you. “What a shame…”

You blinked, confused by his sudden appearance, your heart still racing from the scene inside. "What is?" you asked, voice quieter than you'd intended, as your eyes darted back toward the ballroom doors.

"That your dress was ruined," he said smoothly, his tone playful, though his eyes seemed to hold something more—curiosity, maybe, or perhaps something deeper. "You were the most beautiful girl there. You managed to catch everyone’s attention when you entered the room– including mine."

Sputtering at his confidence, you felt your cheeks heated up from his statement. “Were?”

The side of his eyes crinkled as he looked at you. He couldn’t believe that the elusive and untouchable you were giving him the time of the day. You were always in Yoongi’s orbit, and everyone knew how powerful his family was. It was always the two of you in your own little world, and Yoongi was seldom far from you. It was the reason why suitors couldn’t reach you. No one needed the Min Yoongi for an enemy.

It was safe to say that the relationship between the two of you were always a question mark to the onlookers. In the world of the rich, the two of you should have been long engaged if that was the case. And a chance that Yoongi was far from you was not to be wasted. And so, he took the chance.

“You still are,” he breathed honestly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so magnificent and he understood why Yoongi was similar to a guard dog when it came to you. He extended his hand to you. “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

You only had to wait, but the waiting got boring. When you’d read the manhwa, the pacing had felt seamless, the love story unfolding with a rhythm that kept you turning the pages. Here, however, their love story took time.

It turned out that not only were you bored, but you were also extremely wealthy in this life. You rationalized that it would be okay to enjoy her life just a little.

Leaning on the balcony railing, you released your fifteenth sigh of the day, staring blankly at the sprawling estate below. Behind you, the ever-dutiful maid hovered, hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her expression flickered between concern and trepidation, as though bracing for one of the infamous tantrums her mistress was known for. Lately, though, you’d given her nothing of the sort—no sharp words, no impatient outbursts. That, in itself, seemed to unsettle her.

However, another sigh from you finally prompted her to ask you what was wrong.

Her eyes widened, startled by the question. “I… I suppose I’d pay off my family’s debts,” she admitted, voice small. “It’s been weighing on us for years.”

“How much?” you asked, your tone casual, as though inquiring about the weather.

“Three million,” she murmured, her cheeks coloring as though the very amount embarrassed her. “But I couldn’t possibly—”

“Consider it done,” you interrupted breezily, waving off her protests. “Next?”

“Maybe…I’d go to Paris?”

You nodded, your eyes gleamed as the spark of inspiration ignited within you. A brilliant, slightly impulsive idea. “That’s perfect. Grab your passport.”

It turned out that Paris was also someone’s favorite place.

You were sitting in a café one late afternoon, willing the time to pass by quickly so you could return to your life as evidenced by your poor attempt at reading a book when the chair in front of you was suddenly occupied. With your peace suddenly gone, you looked up and met his eyes. He was smiling at you, his dark hair brushed away from his face, so dissimilar to how formal he looked when you met him.

“We must stop meeting like this.”

He chuckled at your expression before he leaned in on the table. “In Paris, of all places. I have to say, this is starting to look like fate.”

Who was he exactly?

You tried to rack your brain of his scenes in the manhwa, and you had been ever since you met him in that ball. He wasn’t supposed to be in the scene…or was it possible that that happened behind the scene when the focus wasn’t on you, but on Yoongi and the female lead?

“Do you believe in fate, Mr. Kim?” you titled you head in curiosity, looking at him intently for any sort of familiarity that may come your way.

“I do and I don’t. I think that fate is an abstract concept that no man can ever define. There are some things that we are just too powerless to stop; and there are some things that we are too powerful to accept,” he stated with a smile on his face. “You’re here because of fate, Y/N. Don’t you think so?”

“What?”

Taehyung chuckled and patiently waited as the waiter placed his cup of hot chocolate on the table. “I think that you’re fated to be here at this exact moment.”

“What are you saying, Taehyung?”

“I’m saying, have dinner with me tonight.”

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. On the other hand, you could say that the past few days were one of the most interesting days of your life. You never knew that that little dinner with Taehyung could result to you gaining a true friend here. He was interesting, quirky, wise, and full of life. You also learned that he went to the same school as the original second female lead and Yoongi attended, and that he could never befriended you before because Yoongi was always with you. He offhandedly noted that it was so rare for him not to be with you when before, wherever you went, he would follow. Speaking of the character that you assumed, her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better. If you wanted to live, you had to do the opposite of what the second female lead did.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more with Taehyung. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Going somewhere?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in. You did your part by staying the hell away from them….so why was he here?

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. You could practically see the wheels turning in that intelligent brain of his as he sized you up. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

He stuck by you like a shadow and he all but bought the entire hotel floor. He was adamant on spending every moment with you. The most baffling part? He still kept in touch with her. He called, he texted, he checked in on the female lead—but here he was, right beside you, refusing to leave. It made no sense. To add confusion to the mix, Yoongi kept on shooting dark glares at your phone whenever it chimed from Taehyung’s messages and he felt himself getting irritated. He wondered who was brave enough to message you when no one used to before except him.

You had been away for him for just a short time and yet, he felt like you were so far away already, like something shifted, like your entirety changed. It was like you were not the best friend he used to have.

You looked down at your phone as soon as it chimed again and you couldn’t help but chuckled at the silly selfie he took with a duck. You were too engrossed in your phone that you missed the way Yoongi gripped his utensils. You and him hadn’t spent time together since you were so busy evading him and now that he finally caught up with you, your attention was somewhere else.

Why were your attention not on him?

Who was stealing your attention away from him?!

Was this how you punished him because of his current fling?

The sound of Yoongi’s sharp exhale pierced the air, and you glanced up just in time to see his fingers grip the edge of his glass with more force than was necessary. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed—not at the phone in your hand, but at you. He didn’t say anything, but the silence between you both was thick with something unspoken, a tension you had been drowning in since he followed you here.

It wasn’t that you wanted to ignore him, but the truth was... you didn’t know how to deal with this version of Yoongi. The one who wasn’t following the script. The one who was here in Paris, beside you, watching you laugh at Taehyung's ridiculous duck selfie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s so funny?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but it was sharp. He didn’t bother to look at your phone. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on your face, his eyes a shade darker, deeper than you remembered them being.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift in his mood. “Oh, nothing, just a ridiculous selfie from my friend,” you said, still chuckling to yourself. “He’s with a duck.”

“He?” His voice held a dry amusement, but there was an edge to it that made you uncomfortable.

You could feel the subtle tension thickening in the air, like the weight of a storm about to break. Yoongi's question hung between you like a spark in dry tinder. You shrugged, pretending to be casual, though the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. "Yes, he. My friend Taehyung," you said, not looking up from your phone.

But you could feel Yoongi’s eyes boring into you, every syllable of his next words like a tightening coil. “Taehyung,” he repeated, his voice cold and deliberate, as though testing the name on his tongue. His grip on his glass had tightened to the point where his knuckles were white, but it didn’t stop the slow, calculated sip he took, his gaze never leaving you.

The way he said his name made it seemed like your friendship with him was a mistake, a simple blunder on your end that shouldn’t have happened. It did feel like you stepped on a live mine, and you wondered why you were feeling like this when from what you knew about his character in the manhwa, Yoongi was a pure person. However, right now he felt like a dangerous one.

What were you supposed to do?

“You’re thirty now,” you said instead, steering the conversation away from an unfamiliar territory as you placed the phone facedown. The two of you were having brunch in a famous restaurant and you were thoroughly enjoying the croissant moments before the conversation turned sour.

He regarded you for a moment, fully aware of how you this was your sad attempt at changing the subject until he decided to put you out of misery. He nodded, waiting for you to make your point.

“You’re not getting any younger-”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “What’s the point of this conversation, princess? You’re starting to sound like my grandma." He paused, as if savoring the thought. "By the way, she keeps asking for you. Says, and I quote, ‘her favorite grandchild never comes to visit anymore.’ Not even a phone call. Meanwhile, I’m still here, the actual grandchild, and I get nothing."

His glare was sharp, but there was no real venom behind it—just the familiar teasing edge that made you both roll your eyes and laugh, despite yourself.

“W-well! I’m just concerned that you won’t have a wife and any children of your own and that you’d grow old alone! I’m just a friend expressing concern over her best and oldest friend…” you rationalized. Fine, you were having fun teasing him while nudging him in the right direction. Yoongi was fun to mess with, you thought, if he was being himself and not the confusing and quite off-putting mood he was in a while ago.

You thought that he would react the way you anticipated him to, that he would get defensive and after which, hopefully, that he’d go back to their love story.

He did none of those things.

Instead, Yoongi leaned in, his manly scent permeating. He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, all while looking at you. “Why are you saying that I’ll be alone when I have you?”

You blinked, trying to process what Yoongi had just said. His voice, low and warm, carried a weight that wasn’t there a moment ago. You wanted to laugh, to brush it off like the teasing banter you two always shared, but the way his dark eyes held yours made it impossible. “I have you for always, right, princess? You’re not going to leave me for someone…beneath us, right?”

What?

His words seemed like he was pointing to another thing, like what he was asking you was a promise to be set in stone and not a mere assurance on his part. What was the real second female lead to say in situation like this?

“O-of course! We’re best friends! N-now let’s get out of here. I saw this beautiful necklace in that shop. It’s going to look beautiful on her. Maybe if you buy her that, then she’d forgive you for spending your birthday away from her,” you joked to deflect him, standing up and gathering your purse to escape the situation you found yourself in before he could even blink.

Think, Y/N. Think.

You gripped the stem of your wine glass, staring blankly at the flickering candle in the center of the table. The plot was veering off course, drifting further from the original narrative you knew by heart. Yoongi wasn’t supposed to be here with you, his steady presence upending the delicate balance of the story.

The main lead wasn’t supposed to stay by your side like this

Across the room, Yoongi was speaking with one of his father’s acquaintances, his posture relaxed but exuding the quiet authority that came so naturally to him. It gave you a few precious moments to breathe—and to think.

Ever since Paris, Yoongi almost never let you out of his sight. He would spend every free time of his with you. You couldn’t even refuse because he would get so suspicious. His best friend never said no to him, he knew that. Your previous actions of distancing yourself from him resulted in him latching on to you. What could you do to push him in the right direction which was to be with her?

What was the next canon event?

And then it hit you.

The company gala. The turning point. That was when he would bring her, the female lead, into the lion’s den. His family’s icy disapproval, their sharp-edged words of disdain, and their outright rejection of his choice would culminate in a dramatic declaration. Yoongi would stand by her side, rebel against his family, and announce that she was the one he wanted to marry.

It was a pivotal scene. A non-negotiable in the grand arc of his story.

You exhaled shakily. If you could just steer him toward that event, everything will fall back into place. You just needed to figure out when it was happening now that the timeline was unraveling in ways you couldn’t predict.

You just had another problem, though. The man that was now walking back to you was acting like someone who had his heart set on another, so unlike the Min Yoongi from the manhwa who only had eyes for her. His attention was unwavering, but it should not have been pointed to you but to her. The way his gaze softened whenever he looked at you, his refusal to leave your side—it was all wrong. None of it fit.

“Sorry about that,” Yoongi’s voice broke through your thoughts as he returned to the table. He slid back into his seat, his sharp eyes scanning your face. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

You forced a smile, waving a hand dismissively. ���I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

“About what?” He tilted his head, genuinely curious, and the warmth in his gaze made your stomach twist. He did hope that your attention was not being diverted by someone he didn’t even want to mention. He couldn’t even understand why the thought of you with someone else didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t understand why he had this urge to remove the pest away from you.

“Doesn’t you company have an annual gala? I was thinking of what to wear. When is it again?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink to hide your nerves.

He was looking at you as though deep in thought, as though you were forgetting something. He tilted his head to the side, “You know it’s always in December. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess,” Yoongi said, his voice laced with mild curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Why? You’ve never been one to care much about those kinds of things before.”

Your breath caught at his words. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess. The familiarity, the ease with which he said it, threw you off. That line—it didn’t belong here. Not in this timeline. Not in this version of the story where your role was supposed to be temporary, a placeholder in the grand narrative between him and her.

“Right,” you said, forcing a light laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Guess I forgot for a moment. Been busy, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t buy it. His gaze sharpened, a hint of amusement mingled with curiosity. “You? Forget? That’s not like you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes piercing. “What’s really going on?”

The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist again. Stay calm. Don’t let him see.

“Nothing’s going on,” you said, a touch too quickly. You took another sip of your drink, using the motion to avoid his eyes.

“Anyway, December’s coming up fast, and I’m guessing you’re planning to bring her, right?” You kept your tone light, as if the question didn’t weigh heavily on your chest.

Yoongi’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as his brows furrowed slightly. “Her?”

You swallowed hard. “You know… the one you’ve been calling and texting all the time.” You gestured vaguely, hoping to seem indifferent. “The woman you’ve been—well, I thought you were planning to introduce her to your family at the gala.”

Yoongi smiled again, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s see, princess.”

“Admit that you had fun,” Taehyung teased you as he drove you home.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your lips. Against all odds, you’d genuinely enjoyed yourself. You did have fun. You always thought that movie dates were boring and full of cliché, but not with him. With Taehyung, everything felt effortless—light and uncomplicated, like breathing.

“Fine,” you conceded with mock reluctance, your tone carrying the weight of faux irritation. “It was a fun…”

“Date,” he finished smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement as your voice trailed off.

Your cheeks burned at his audacity, the straightforwardness of the word stealing your ability to respond for a moment. A "date"? Could you even call it that? The way your heart fluttered betrayed any argument you might have tried to form.

You glanced away, fidgeting with the strap of your bag as thoughts tangled in your mind. Was it okay to feel this way? To bask in fleeting moments of happiness when the life you were living wasn’t truly yours? When you were still determined to set things right, to restore the balance of a narrative that had gone astray?

So caught up in your musings, you barely noticed the car slowing to a stop in the estate’s driveway. The towering grand doors loomed ahead, a stark reminder of the world you’d return to the moment you stepped out.

“Thank you,” Taehyung’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was quiet, genuine, and when you turned to look at him, his face was softer than you’d ever seen it.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For being here,” he replied simply, his gaze holding yours.

The weight of his sincerity pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The world seemed to slow as his hand moved to cup your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart stutter.

Your breaths mingled, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips hovered so close to yours it was almost unbearable. You could feel the moment hanging on a fragile thread, teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

The room’s golden hues seemed to dim as the sound of the car horn echoed through the driveway, shattering the fragile intimacy between you and Taehyung. You jolted back, your heart pounding in your chest as if caught in an act of betrayal—though you hadn’t technically done anything wrong. Yet.

Taehyung sighed, his expression softening as he glanced toward the car behind him. “Looks like your knight in shining armor doesn’t know how to wait,” he said lightly, though there was a hint of tension in his voice.

You managed a shaky laugh, your hand gripping the strap of your bag tightly. “He’s just… overprotective.”

“Right,” Taehyung said, leaning back in his seat. His eyes met yours, warm and understanding, but with a flicker of something else—something that made your chest tighten. “Still, I meant what I said. Thanks for tonight.”

Before you could respond, the honk came again, sharper this time, as if Yoongi were making a point. You turned to glance at his car, the sleek black exterior glinting under the estate’s lights. Even from this distance, you could feel his piercing gaze locked on you.

“Goodnight, Taehyung,” you said hurriedly, fumbling with the door handle.

Taehyung smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car and started toward the grand door, the cold evening air biting at your skin. Yoongi’s car door slammed shut behind you, and the sound of his footsteps was a quiet storm approaching. You didn’t dare look back, your heart a riot of guilt, frustration, and confusion.

“Princess,” Yoongi’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth and controlled, but laced with an edge you couldn’t ignore.

You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He was already close, his dark eyes scanning your face like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His suit was immaculate, as always, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his posture—shoulders just a little too stiff, jaw a little too tight.

“You’re back late,” he said, his tone deceptively casual.

“I went to see a movie with Taehyung,” you replied, keeping your voice neutral.

At the mention of Taehyung, Yoongi’s gaze flicked past you to the car that was now idling at the end of the driveway. You followed his line of sight and felt a pang of unease as his expression shifted. His brows raised slightly as he studied Taehyung through the window, his head tilting just enough to convey an air of quiet disdain.

And then he smirked—a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the Yoongi you were used to seeing. In that moment, he was something else entirely: sharp, commanding, almost cruel. The kind of presence that demanded submission without a word.

“What did you say his last name was, princess?” he asked, still watching Taehyung with that same unsettling smirk. His tone was light, but there was something in it—something dark—that made your heart beat faster.

“Kim?” you replied thoughtlessly, your mind too preoccupied with wanting to escape the tension. “Why did you ask?”

Finally, he turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening just enough to make the moment feel surreal. The shift was so subtle, so practiced, that it left you second-guessing the sharpness you’d just seen. He reached out, his arm sliding around your shoulders with an ease that felt both natural and calculated.

“No reason, princess,” he said smoothly, steering you toward the grand doors of the estate. “Just… curious.”

The warmth of his arm contrasted sharply with the coldness that lingered in the air. It was disarming, the way he could shift so easily between roles—between the man you knew and the one you weren’t sure you ever wanted to meet again.

As he guided you inside, you cast one last glance over your shoulder. Taehyung’s car hadn’t moved, the figure inside still watching. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined the tension mirrored your own.

When the doors shut behind you, the weight of Yoongi’s presence beside you grew heavier. His hand rested lightly against your shoulder, his touch far gentler than the unease simmering just beneath the surface.

"Don’t you have better things to do than come to my dress fitting? Like, I don’t know, actually run your empire or something?" you asked, stepping out of the fitting room with a huff.

Yoongi sat sprawled on the plush sofa, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, a glass of champagne balanced effortlessly in his other hand. He looked utterly at ease, as if this boutique was his second home and not a place he had followed you to.

He shrugged, “Well, we can’t have you running away from me again, can we?”

“For the last time, I didn’t run away! I was in Paris because croissant sounded nice that day-”

“Sure, princess,” he agreed condescendingly. Yoongi’s gaze swept over you, lingering a moment longer than you expected. “On the other hand, you look immaculate in that dress,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re going to make the rest of the gala feel underdressed.”

Heat crept up your neck at his words, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, Yoongi. Save it for the boardroom or—better yet—for her.”

He raised an eyebrow, swirling the champagne in his glass as if you hadn’t just tried to divert the conversation. “Her?” he echoed, tilting his head with mock curiosity.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yes, her. The one you met in the previous ball? The waitress? The one you’ll be introducing to your family at the gala, remember? Does she ring a bell?”

“We’re still talking about that?” Yoongi asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back into the plush sofa. The glass of champagne in his hand tilted slightly, catching the light as he swirled the golden liquid. “Why are you so invested in my relationship with her?”

“I’m just concerned and curious as a friend.”

He chuckled softly, setting his glass down on the table beside him. “Curious, huh? And here I thought you were just jealous.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Jealous?”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving yours. “You keep bringing her up. You’re obsessed with the idea of me introducing her to my family, of me texting her. You sure this isn’t just about you not wanting to share me?”

Your face burned, and you turned away, pretending to adjust the dress in the mirror. “You’re ridiculous and I refuse to discuss this further,” you muttered. “I’m going to buy this!” You announced before stalking back to the fitting room to avoid wondering about why your heart was skipping a beat and why you shouldn’t venture into that.

You were huffing as you tried to reach for the zipper behind you when the curtain suddenly opened and Yoongi stepped in, making the room felt impossibly small. You instinctively turned your back to him, clutching at the unzipped dress as though a protection against whatever this was.

“What are you doing here?!”

Yoongi leaned casually against the side of the fitting room, his smirk firmly in place. “Helping you, obviously,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t need your help!” you snapped, tugging at the zipper yourself but struggling to reach it.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said smoothly, taking a step closer. His fingers brushed against yours as he gently moved your hand away. “Relax, princess. I’ll take care of it.”

You froze, your heart pounding as his hands moved to the zipper. His touch was surprisingly delicate, his fingers grazing your back as he carefully pulled the zipper up. The sound of the zipper seemed deafening in the silence.

“There,” he said softly, his voice low and close to your ear. “All done.”

You were about to turn around when he stopped you. You met his dark eyes through the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze held you captive. His hands lingered lightly on your shoulders, warm against the smooth fabric of the dress. There was something unreadable in his expression—a mix of curiosity, amusement, and something far deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re very beautiful, princess. Do you know that?” he whispered, resting his chin on your delicate shoulder.

“Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He was quiet for a moment as though in contemplation whether to say what he wanted to say. Like in the manhwa, Yoongi was calculating. He never did anything without a reason, one of which would benefit him. “I had a nightmare the night after the ball,” he finally confessed, his voice low and almost distant, as if recalling something that lingered in his mind. “We were on the yacht. I think it was a party. You were there… She was there. I was there. And the yacht… it slammed into a rock. The two of you were thrown off.”

If he felt your body went rigid, he didn’t mention. He never broke eye contact, his arms around your waist as he told you of his dream. The one exactly what happened in the manhwa– the one where the main lead chose to save the main female lead first, only to find out the it was already late for the second female lead.

His body was so close that you could feel the slight tremble in his arms as he spoke, his fingers grazing your waist with the same careful intensity.

You met his gaze in the mirror again, and something twisted in your stomach. There was an almost predatory look in his eyes, but there was something else too—something far more vulnerable, raw. He didn’t break eye contact, and his grip on you tightened just slightly, as though he wanted to hold on, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

“In my dream,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “I saw you die because I saved her first. It felt so real, like I was remembering something that already happened.” He paused, and you felt the weight of his words sink in. “Why would I save her first when I know I can’t lose you?”

 “It’s just a dream…” you tried to console him. How could he remember something that happened in the ending? Was the barrier between the characters and the plot weakening? What was changing? And how could you go back to your own world when he was holding onto you so tight as though if he looked away, you’d disappear?

“It is, right? It’s not going to happen... I’ll make sure of it.”

December came.

It was the month you were both dreading and anticipating. You were almost at the end of the story, and so far, you did your absolute best to let their love story unfold without a second female lead antagonizing it. You did your part by staying away from them. One problem though, the male lead was not acting like he was written in the manhwa. He was not acting like a man in love should be to her. Instead, he was out there sticking to you like

It was safe to say that Min Yoongi went rouge.

You did not know what to expect in the annual gala. You no longer have the upper hand. You were in the blind as though you were a real character and no longer a reader. You feared that the longer you stayed in this fictional world, the more likely that you’d be incorporated in the story and no longer as a second female lead that could just easily disappear.

You needed answers on how to escape from this fictional world. Answers eluded you. Worse still, so did the only person who seemed to see you for who you were. Taehyung. Since that night, not once did Taehyung answer you calls nor respond to your numerous messages. You tried asking your trusted staff about him, but even they were mummed. It was only your closest maid who whispered to you what transpired and how Taehyung’s budding business empire had crumbled overnight, crushed under the weight of lawsuits—tax evasion, fraud, and other accusations you couldn’t fathom. The news left you hollow. You hadn’t seen this coming. The man who had been your one source of normalcy, the one who made you feel like a real person instead of a pawn in someone else’s story, had disappeared into the shadows of scandal. You thought to yourself that maybe you really didn’t know him at all and that it was best to just focus on how to once and for all, leave this universe.

But who could you ask?

You continued anxiously tapping your heels on the marbled flooring, observing the guests. You were in the corner, trying to hide in the shadows so you could freely look for her. He would be bringing her, right?

Where is she?

Your eyes scanned the room again, trying to keep your presence hidden in the shadows. The guests were mingling, lost in the glitter of conversation and champagne. Laughter bubbled up in the air, but none of it felt real. Not like it should have. None of this was real, in fact. This was a fictional world where you were stuck in.

You wondered what would happen if you stopped playing her role. But before you could dwell on that thought, the door opened again, and you stiffened. You were expecting to see the main female lead, yet instead, it was Yoongi. The man of the hour. He entered the room and all the guests he passed greeted and congratulated him for setting another record in his empire, yet his eyes always returned to you. Where was she? This was not supposed to be like this. Yet, you knew in the back of your mind that something integral changed. You were in denial about how you no longer had control over this, that you might as well be truly in the story now, no longer an observer, no longer able to hide behind the pages of the manhwa.

You stepped back involuntarily, no longer feeling the courage you had faked for so long. You lost control. You had to find a way out. However, when you slipped away and turned the corner, you bumped into an old, yet dignified woman. You bowed in apologies when it dawned upon you.

You have seen her before.

Slowly, your eyes lifted to hers. You knew her. She was the woman who gave you the manhwa… How was she in this world?!

Your mouth hanged agape as the corner of her lips lifted, her eyes crinkling when she saw the dawn of recognition on her face. “I told you reading it will change your mind.”

“It’s you,” you whispered, taking an unsteady step back. Your eyes darted over her, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t belong in this world. “H-how… How are you here? What’s going on? Y-you have to help me. Why am I here? How can I leave?!”

She studied you for a moment, her gaze steady, unreadable. “You’re here because someone wants you here, dear.”

“I don’t want to be here! I want to go back.”

Her head tilted slightly, her calm demeanor unwavering. “But why? What do you have in your old life that you so desperately want to return to? Aren’t you alone there? Didn’t you have no one to love you?”

“That’s not the point!” you shot back, a tremor running through your voice. “And it’s not different here. No one loves me—no one even knows the real me.”

Her smile deepened, a glint of something—mischief, perhaps?—in her eyes. “Ah, but who do you think was desperate enough, filled with enough sorrow, to pull you into this universe?”

Your breath caught, confusion clouding your mind. “I… I don’t understand.”

“When she died,” the woman began, her voice lowering, as if unveiling a truth long buried, “the manhwa ended. But did you think the characters would simply cease to exist? No, dear. They continued, burdened by the pain of their story. Yoongi was devastated. He regretted everything—every word, every choice, every moment that led to her death. He mourned her. His sorrow was so great, it transcended the story’s limits and reached you.”

Your head spun. “Me?” you repeated weakly, disbelief dripping from your voice.

“Dear, you are her. Just in a different universe. It’s the reason why you sided with her, why you felt for her, why her character called on you, why her pain felt like your own. You are her.”

“I don’t want to be her,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose this. Please—just send me back to my own universe.”

The woman sighed, her expression softening, though her eyes retained their strange, knowing glimmer. “The only way out,” she said slowly, “is through. The manhwa will only release you when its story ends. And you know how it ends, don’t you?”

A cold realization began to settle in your chest. “When he marries the female lead,” you murmured, dread weaving through every syllable. Your words hung in the air, heavy and final.

The sharp sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, breaking your trance. You barely had time to gather your thoughts before a familiar voice cut through the suffocating stillness.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s low, commanding tone sent a jolt through you, but it was his grip—firm but not harsh—as his hand closed around your arm that made your breath hitch.

You turned to face him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. They were intense, holding a darkness that made your stomach churn. Something simmered beneath his composed exterior, something unsettling.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, your voice unsteady.

His lips quirked into a small, unreadable smile. “I just arrived, princess,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue like silk. “What are you doing here? Alone?”

“I…” You hesitated, your mind racing for an excuse. “I was just talking to—”

When you turned back, the old woman was gone.

Your heart sank, panic surging through you. The corridor where she had stood moments ago was now empty, as though she had vanished into thin air.

Yoongi frowned, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Talking to who?” he pressed, his voice dropping.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but the weight of it was crushing. “No one,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “She must’ve left before you got here.”

Yoongi looked down at you, his expression calm, his gaze steady. Yet, something about the way he held himself—the deliberate gentleness, the faint curve of his lips—made unease coil tightly in your chest. A part of you whispered that this tenderness was a mask, that he wasn’t as naïve or benign as he seemed.

But then he smiled.

It was a tender smile, soft around the edges, and for a fleeting moment, your doubts dissolved like mist under the morning sun.

“Let’s get back to the party, princess,” he said, his voice a soothing balm against the tension humming in your veins. “Your parents arrived.”

Your steps faltered. “My parents?”

The mention of them sent a jolt through you. They were a peripheral presence in the story, barely more than a footnote in the manhwa’s narrative. They were always overseas, managing their company, distant figures who left their daughter to fend for herself. Their absence was a plot device, a catalyst for your dependence on Yoongi.

But now, they were here.

“W-why are they here?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your effort to steady it.

Yoongi stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression didn’t change, but there was something unsettling in the way his eyes softened, like he was trying to calm a skittish animal. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone quiet yet resolute.

The words only made your pulse quicken. He offered his arm to you, his demeanor so effortless, so composed, as though he hadn’t just upended everything you thought you knew about the storyline. “Shall we?”

Were you imagining things, or were the guests’ gazes lingering just a little too long as you and Yoongi re-entered the ballroom? Conversations paused, eyes flickering in your direction, a murmur of whispers spreading like ripples across the sea of elegantly dressed attendees.

Yoongi, as always, was composed. His hand rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with an ease that belied the tension curling in your chest. You tried to focus on the glittering chandeliers, the music, the familiar opulence of the space, but the weight of the stares made it impossible.

“There’s our little girl!”

The warm, dignified voice cut through the hum of the crowd, pulling your attention to its source. Your mother stood near the edge of the room, resplendent in a gown that rivaled the grandeur of the occasion. Her face lit up with delight as she strode toward you, arms outstretched.

“Y-you’re here…” you stammered, shock rendering you momentarily immobile as she pulled you into an embrace. Her movements were graceful yet firm, as though she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Of course, we’re here,” she said, stepping back to study your face, her smile warm but tinged with something calculating. “Why wouldn’t we be? It’s not every day that our dear daughter gets engaged.”

Your heart raced, panic rising as you tried to process what was happening. “I… I don’t understand,” you managed, your voice trembling as you looked between your parents and Yoongi.

Yoongi stepped closer, the warmth of his hand on your back turning into a subtle yet firm pressure. His voice dropped to a low murmur, meant only for your ears, as his sharp eyes held yours in an unrelenting gaze.

“It’s all been arranged, princess,” he said softly, his words almost tender but laced with steel. “Your parents and mine have been discussing this for some time. They thought tonight was the perfect opportunity to make it official.”

Your heart pounded in protest, the world around you narrowing to just him and the enormity of what he was saying. “I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “This is wrong! You don’t want this, Yoongi. You have her. And I—”

“You what?” he interrupted sharply, his eyes narrowing. “You have Taehyung?”

“No!” you snapped, shaking your head. “This isn’t about him. This is about them deciding for us. This is about tying your life to mine when you don’t even want to!”

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning but without any real humor. “Who says I don’t want to?”

“Yoongi—”

“Look, princess,” he cut you off, his voice soft but commanding. “We just have to act like we’re going along with this. Just pretend. Can you do that for me?”

Your breath caught, and you searched his face for some hint of his true feelings. But all you found was a calm determination that left you more uncertain than ever.

The murmur of the crowd reached you, the polite applause growing louder as you turned toward the center of the room. Yoongi extended his hand, his posture exuding confidence and charm as he guided you toward the raised platform where your parents and his waited.

The spotlight followed the two of you as you ascended albeit reluctantly, every step feeling heavier than the last. The room seemed to hush, the weight of their expectations bearing down on you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Yoongi began smoothly, raising his glass in a toast. His voice carried easily, commanding the attention of the entire ballroom. “Tonight is a special night, not just for our families, but for me. I’m honored to announce my engagement to this incredible woman beside me, my childhood best friend, the only woman who have never left my side. I cannot live without her, and soon, I’ll never have to.”

The applause erupted, deafening and overwhelming. You felt trapped, the walls closing in as Yoongi turned to you, his smile perfectly composed for the crowd.

“Shall we make it convincing, princess?” Yoongi murmured, his voice low and unreadable, carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place. 

Before you could respond, he cupped your face with a gentleness that felt at odds with the deliberate precision in his movements. His touch was warm, grounding, yet it sent a jolt through you—a mix of dread and something far more dangerous. 

Your breath hitched. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Min Yoongi—the composed, untouchable Min Yoongi—would lower his head to capture your lips. Even more unthinkable was the way his kiss shattered every expectation, unraveling something deep within you. 

Yoongi kissed like a man starved. His lips moved against yours with a consuming intensity, a hunger that left no room for hesitation. It wasn’t gentle or tentative; it was deliberate, almost punishing. He took and took, claiming you with every movement of his mouth. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing and demanding at the same time, leaving you breathless. 

His free hand cradled your face, tilting it to him as if to ensure you couldn’t escape—not that your body seemed capable of responding. Your knees felt weak, your heart thundered in your chest, and the noise of the crowd faded into an inconsequential blur. 

For a moment, there was only him. 

The crowd erupted into applause, the sound jolting you back to reality. The cheers and whistles surrounded you, the noise pressing in like a tidal wave. You blinked, realizing that your hands had gripped the fabric of his jacket, as though anchoring yourself to him. 

Yoongi pulled back slowly, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were dark, burning with something you couldn’t decipher. His lips curled into a faint, triumphant smile, as if he knew exactly what effect he’d had on you. 

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he took your hand in his. The velvet box you hadn’t even noticed being opened now sat empty in his other hand. And then, before you could process what was happening, there it was—a massive diamond glinting on your finger, its size almost blinding under the ballroom lights. It was familiar. How could it not when it was the same ring he won in the auction?

Why did he have this now? When was this entire fiasco prepared?

Your chest tightened as you stared at the ring, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should have. 

Yoongi raised your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. To the crowd, it was the perfect picture of a devoted fiancé. But to you, it was something far more unnerving. 

“You wear it well,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. 

The applause swelled around you again, the sound nearly deafening as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. 

This wasn’t part of the story. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

But Yoongi, ever the master of control, seemed to have rewritten the script entirely. And you were left standing in the middle of his narrative, unable to tell where the performance ended and the truth began.

The evening air outside was cool and calm, a sharp contrast to the warmth and chatter of the grand party you had just left behind. As the crowd dwindled and the night settled, Yoongi offered you his arm, escorting you toward his sleek black car. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and his dark eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual.

The night seemed to be endless. You were never left alone even for a moment. You wanted nothing more than to lie down and plan your next step. You had to, or else you were stuck here.

“I’m sorry I missed your speech,” you said as the car pulled away from the glowing mansion. “I’m sure it was great.”

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s fine. You’ll always be here to hear my next speech anyway.”

You returned his smile, but it was brittle, not quite reaching your eyes. Had your plan succeeded, this would be one of your last moments with him. You’d return to your world, leaving this Yoongi—and this universe—behind. The thought tightened something in your chest, but you pushed it aside.

“I’m sorry about the sudden engagement, princess.” His voice was soft, laced with what sounded like regret, but his eyes told a different story. “My hands were tied. Our families went behind our backs, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Lies. All of it.

What you didn’t know was that Yoongi had orchestrated everything. He had whispered into the right ears, pulled strings behind the scenes, and crafted a perfect storm to ensure this engagement would bind you to him. He didn’t care what the truth was, whether or not you were from this world. He cared about one thing only—keeping you by his side.

Something in him had shifted the moment he realized how easily you could slip away. The very idea of losing you—to this world, to Taehyung, to anything—was unbearable. It drove him to actions he never thought himself capable of, cruel and unapologetic. Taehyung was out of the picture now, his budding empire crushed under the weight of scandal. Yoongi had ensured that, and he felt no remorse.

What mattered was you.

You offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes because if what you were planning was successful, you’d return to your own world and he’d be left in this universe. Yoongi quietly offered you a champagne as the driver smoothly drove back to the mansion.

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, eyeing the sparkling liquid.

“Just…for always, princess,” he said softly, the words carrying an undertone you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but took the glass, sipping the sparkling liquid. The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of shared humor, mutual interests, and a surprising depth of understanding. With each exchange, you were reminded of why you had felt drawn to Yoongi in the first place. For all his intensity and mystery, he was undeniably charming, and being with him felt easy in a way you hadn’t expected.

The spirit of alcohol definitely made you forget about the ruckus that happened tonight. If he said that he didn’t have anything to do with it, who were you to question him when he was characterized in the manhwa as someone who was good?

Your conversation with him was fun. It was grounding.

Until the world began to tilt.

Dizziness crept over you, subtle at first but quickly overpowering. Your fingers loosened around the champagne flute as your head grew heavier, and before you knew it, your cheek was pressed against his shoulder.

“Yoongi…” you murmured, your voice weak as you leaned against him.

He steadied you, his hand moving to cradle your head as you slumped against his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of finality.You tried to sit up, to stay awake, but your body refused to cooperate. Everything blurred together, and then, there was nothing.

Yoongi’s hand moved to steady you, his touch gentle as he adjusted your position so you rested more comfortably against him. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, before shifting his gaze toward the driver.

“To the airport,” he instructed, his voice calm but firm.

The driver nodded without hesitation, changing course.

Yoongi turned his attention back to you, his jaw tightening as he studied your sleeping face. He’d heard everything earlier—the old woman’s cryptic words, your desperate plea to leave, and your determination to escape this world.

It all made sense. The nightmare that brought terrors in his heart really happened. You died because of his foolishness, because he chose someone else over you when he knew he couldn’t survive a world without you. It had been like living his worst nightmare all over again, the fear of losing someone he wasn’t ready to let go. But this time, he refused to let it happen.

He wasn’t a religious man, but your presence in this universe felt like a miracle—a second chance, no matter how strange or impossible. Whether you were the original her or not didn’t matter. You were here. You were his.

And he wouldn’t let you leave.

His gaze darkened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” he murmured softly, more to himself than to you.

The first female lead was no longer his focus. She was gone.

Now, it was you.

And Yoongi would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—even if it meant tying you to him so tightly you could never untangle the threads.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[heartsforvin]

WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - ariana grande

new layout for fics !! hope you like it (:

for the anon who asked for more angst, here you go ml , hope you enjoy !! <33

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; angst, use of pet names, cussing, break up, cheating, arguing, mentions of excessive alcohol use, mentions of sex, mentions of virginity (just in case), lmk if i missed anything !

summary; you and vinnie have a nasty break up, vinnie tries to stay friends no matter the hurt, but you don’t think that is possible

you and vinnie have been together since senior year of highschool, both of you in your twenties now.

it was fun for awhile, really fun, but recently you’ve felt the mood shift in your relationship. vinnie’s been distant, and more than usual.

you’re used to him being distant job wise, but he’s been emotionally and physically distant. that’s what scares you.

the two of you live in the same house, yet you feel like it’s just you and hera at times. vinnie comes home late, stays up late, and sleeps in until way past you get home from work.

you want to make this last, but feel the relationship is way beyond repair.

☁︎·̩͙✧

“vinnie can you just listen to me for five minutes?!” you scream as the two of you walk into your shared apartment.

you slam your purse on the counter while vinnie slams the bedroom door, both of you acting like children but you won’t fully admit it.

walking to the couch, you smile when you see hera nestled against the arm. you sit down and gently grab her, placing her in your lap.

“your dad’s being a meanie.” you say to the cat as you scratch behind her ear.

hera purrs as you give her the love she’s been wanting all day, you smile as she nuzzles her head against you.

meanwhile, vinnie’s in his room, headset on as he blows off some steam streaming. it’s the one thing he can do right now that won’t piss him off.

well, besides all the comments asking where you were. his fans know the two of you live together, so saying you’re at ‘home’ would mean at his place.

right now he really wishes you didn’t live with him. you’re not even in the room yet he feels like you’re breathing down his neck.

constantly asking how he is, what he was doing out so late, why he’s sleeping in so late again.

it was like a never ending cycle, and he didn’t know what to do. he’s been drinking way more than usual, partly the reason why he’s asleep most of the day, but he’s not telling you that.

what you also don’t know is that, about two weeks ago he had stepped into a bar to get away from you and the constant bickering, but soon managed to fuck everything up.

vinnie loves you, he has since senior year of high school. he knew the relationship wouldn’t last forever, but he just further proved that weeks ago.

he didn’t mean for it to happen, he was way too drunk and way too out of it. he knows that is no excuse, but it’s the truth.

vinnie knows how much you love him, and that sometimes it hurts you because of how much you do. that’s why he hates that he has to tell you this.

it wasn’t just one mere little kiss, it was more than that, and that’s why he’s so scared to tell you.

vinnie was the first person you allowed to see you, and he knew that meant a lot to you. he knows that once you know that he did more than just kiss another woman, it’s going to completely ruin you.

“guys i’m hoppin’ off for the night, ill be back in a few days.” vinnie told his chat before turning off the stream for the night.

he realized he needed to tell you the truth on why he’s been so distant in all aspects.

carefully opening his bedroom door, he sees you curled up on the couch with hera. he smiles to himself, this sight definitely not helping the screaming match that’s about to occur.

he almost doesn’t want to wake you, knowing you need the sleep since you barely get it nowadays.

he can’t, though. you two need to talk this out, whether it’s actually talking or arguing, it needs to be done.

“baby, hey,” vinnie can’t help but use the infamous pet name as he shakes you awake softly. “wake up.”

you stir awake, rubbing your eyes as you look up at your boyfriend. “ hey, you.” you say sheepishly.

it was almost as if you didn’t yell at him an hour ago, for what you cannot remember.

hera wakes up too and walks on the arm of the couch and nuzzles her head on her dad’s tattooed hand.

vinnie picks her up and cradles her in his arms as if she’s an actual baby. after a few minutes he sets her on the ground and he sits beside you.

“we need to talk.”

☁︎·̩͙✧

“you..what..?” you’re baffled at what your boyfriend just explained to you.

you can’t help but let out a weak laugh on instinct. vinnie looks at you, a puzzled expression clearly written all over his face.

you stand up, pacing in a circle as you try to take in what vinnie said. you can’t focus, you can’t think, absolutely nothing is going on in your head.

“so, you’re telling me that the reason you’ve been so distant in both ways — emotionally and physically — is because you’ve been fuckin’ someone else?!”

that is definitely not the news you thought it would’ve been. you thought it would’ve been like he said — him out at a club for most of the day and getting too drunk to comprehend anything. definitely not cheating.

“bab-no!” you cut him off with a loud yell, almost scaring yourself. “you do not get to ‘baby’ me when you know how important losing my virginity meant to me! you were the first guy to show me true, genuine, unconditional love, and you decide to just throw it away?”

tears began to flood your vision, nothing made sense. were all those years just nothing to him? you thought you’d marry him, mother his children, apparently he didn’t think that far ahead.

vinnie sighs as he holds his head in his hands. “i know i fucked up.” you hear him mumble.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “you did more than fucked up, vinnie.” he looks up at you as you practically stare daggers into his eyes.

he can feel your hurt, he understands. this happened to him years ago with past relationships, yet he doesn’t know why he did it.

vinnie stands and walks to you. “sorry can’t fix this, i know. please just hear me out.”

you roll your eyes. you don’t want to hear it. how can he justify sleeping with someone else while with you.

“i don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it, vinnie,” you sigh. you go to the kitchen counter and grab your purse.

“sweetheart, dont go, come on.” vinnie grabs your purse from your hold. “i don’t wanna fight-“

“well too late because we’re past that. should’ve thought of that before you cheated.”

the urge to break down in tears is so strong, and you almost did. you don’t want to show him your hurt, even if he can see it already.

you grab your purse from vinnie and put it back on the counter. vinnie smiles at you, glad you’re not leaving, but you just give him a glare as you walk by.

“can you please let me explain?” vinnie asks as the two of you sit on the couch, hera following and sitting on your lap.

sighing heavily, you nod your head, letting him know that he can explain to you.

“we’ve been fighting nonstop for weeks, i needed to relive the stress. one drink lead to two, two lead to three and before i could think i’m with this girl and we’re..”

you sob quietly into your palm at the thought of vinnie with someone else. vinnie looks at you sympathetically, hurting all over at the fact he just broke your trust.

“why couldn’t you just come to me? you didn’t need to shut me out. vinnie, we haven’t done anything in weeks, and this is why?”

you’re so confused. you don’t know what’s going on in his head but you know he needs help.

“i was scared, scared of this exact reaction. i had no doubt you were going to flip out like that, but i just didn’t want to lose you.”

except now he knows he’s about to. maybe if it was just an innocent kiss the two of you could’ve talked it out and made up. it was way more than that, though.

you stay silent for a long time and that makes his anxiety skyrocket, wondering what you’re thinking.

you’re thinking that the man you quite literally gave yourself to for the past few years just completely shattered your heart and betrayed your trust.

“we can work— no, vinnie, we can’t work this out!” you shout at him as tears escape your eyes.

all he wants to do is hug and comfort you. vinnie absolutely hates seeing you upset, and seeing as you’re upset because of him is a different kind of hurt.

you scoff, wondering how he could even think that the two of you can try to mend this problem.

“i’ve loved you since i was eighteen and we’re almost twenty-three. do you know how much that hurts me?” your voice cracks as you speak, making vinnie’s heart ache.

he sighs, obviously understanding. “it hurts me just as much as you, sweetheart.” there it is, the pet name. you don’t have it in you to tell him it hurts way more when he uses them.

you’re silent for a moment and that only makes vinnie’s anxiety skyrocket. he doesn’t know what you’re thinking, other than that you can no longer trust him.

“i need a minute.” you say as you wipe your tear stained cheeks.

you walk and grab your purse off the counter, vinnie watching as you do. he doesn’t stop you though, he knows you need space.

hours passed and you finally returned back to the apartment. vinnie gives you a weak smile when he sees you enter the room. you reciprocate, putting your head down after.

you walk to the couch and pet hera who is sleeping. you smile at the cat, realizing just how much you’ll miss her.

“i know this can’t be fixed,” you breathe in heavily when you hear him speak for the first time in hours. “but could we still be friends?”

you almost want to bust out laughing at his question. he hurt you this bad and he still wants to remain friends?

“i don’t think that’s a good idea.” you say truthfully.

vinnie understands completely, he thought he could at least try to ask.

the room falls silent for a few minutes before vinnie speaks. “so this is it?” he asks.

you nod your head with a small smile. “i have a friend i can stay with until i find my own place, it won’t be long.” you tell him.

he nods and soon the two of you head into his room so you can start packing up your things.

even though the two of you can’t be friends, he can still pretend, right?

we can’t be friends, but i’d like to just pretend.

HEYYYYY IM BACK !!! (def gonna leave for another week) just kidding i won’t 🥲

i hope you guys liked this !!! i need to write more angst so send in requests if you have any !! i love seeing what you guys come up w for fics !!!

tags; @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @forevergirlposts , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @visualbutterflysworld , @st4rswrld , @louloulemons-blog , @lovingsturniolo , @hallecarey1 , @supabhad , @kayleiggh , @violet0182 , @kriissy4gov , @slvthrs , @laylasbunbunny

[jigujellee]

EMERGENCY CONTACT -> you’re only supposed to call when you want each other, but what happens when she calls you because she needs you? (part 1: lead the way)

jennie x reader smut, fluff, angst - a triple threat >:) word count: 2.7k warnings: swearing, slight stalking moment

a/n: helloooo! happy new year again to everyone :D i know some of you have been waiting for this to drop, so i hope you enjoy it! as usual, it's not proofread so i'm sorry for any mistakes you may come across while reading. i'm also sorry if this is rusty, i've had writer's block for so long and it's only starting to get a little bit better,, but anw i love you all and remember to take care of yourselves!

the sound of wet kisses and quiet whimpers are the only things heard within the walls of jennie’s bedroom.

“fuck y/n, just like that” jennie moans as her hands get tangled in your hair, trying to push you even closer to her dripping wet core. you lap your tongue along the length of her slit causing the raven haired girl to arch her back.

“oh god! i’m so close baby, please don’t stop”

-

after reaching her orgasm and allowing her to return the favour, the two of you lay together in her bed trying to catch your breaths before jennie starts to giggle.

“what’s so funny miss kim?”

“nothing, it’s just that i’ll always be amazed by the way you fuck me y/n”

you turn over to face her and pull her closer to you, smiling as you two fall asleep together.

you don’t recall explicitly stating the terms and conditions of your “relationship”, for lack of a better word. after the first night you and jennie hooked up, she began calling you up in the late hours of the night saying she needed to “destress from work”, obviously meaning she needed the stress fucked out of her. you eventually started to do the same once midterm season was slowly approaching, and that’s how this whole thing started really. to an outsider, this was a simple friends with benefits situation but you didn’t really call like calling it that. to be quite honest, you didn’t know what to call this; you’re just satisfied with it.

but you felt a change and you didn’t like where it was going.

the last few times you’ve slept with jennie went as they usually do - you two meet up, have dinner, take a stroll somewhere and then eagerly rush to one of your places to have sex. then in the morning, whoever wakes up first makes breakfast (you’ve been to each other’s places enough times to know where everything is) and then one of you leaves until the cycle continues again. it was almost a routine at this point, so you start to question when you notice jennie trying to break it.

your suspicions started when you woke up to her staring at you. not so much in a creepy manner, but more so like she was adoring you as you slept. when your eyes open and they meet hers, a smile slowly grows as her somewhat hoarse voice (from all the screaming yk) manages to let out a soft “good morning.” you look into her eyes momentarily, noticing a glint of something that wasn’t there before but you ignore it. “morning,” you say as you get up and make way for the bathroom, not looking back to notice a sulking jennie.

then you noticed how she snuggles into your neck and places a soft kiss just below your jawline, whispering a “thank you” before drifting off to sleep. jennie has only recently been thanking you for having sex with her, and with you being the slight overthinker that you are, you believe that her “thank you” may have a slightly different meaning; something that she knows she doesn't want to admit yet.

today, you noticed how she begged to stay even after breakfast.

“what’s the rush? i don’t have work today and you don’t have classes”

“come on, we always do this jen, you know time’s up after breakfast”

“well, i wanna change it up today. why don’t we go do something fun?”

“like?”

“take me on a date,” she casually says, causing you to nearly choke on your almost finished coffee.

“a date? why?”

“it’s just a way for us to bond”

“is bonding in bed not enough?”

“oh come on y/n, it’s just a fun little date”

you sigh in defeat, watching as your opponent hops off the couch in glee to get dressed, but not before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“thank you,” she says, almost lovingly. you say nothing in return and just proceed to your room to get ready for this “date.”

-

“how much longer?” you yell from outside the dressing room. unfortunately for you, the term “date” to jennie just meant going shopping with her.

“someone’s eager to see me,” the girl smirks as she pulls the curtain back to reveal her in a simple yet elegant black dress.

“help me zip up please?” jennie’s back is towards you and you can’t help but stare hungrily at the bare skin. as you grab the zipper, you slowly pull it up to close the dress but your intrusive thoughts came over you and you begin leaving soft kisses on her back before you could zip it up completely. jennie sighs at the feeling of your lips on her skin. as you move up closer to her neck, you feel her arm wrap around the back of your neck. nibbling softly on the lobe of her ear, you whisper, “why don’t i just unzip this dress and take you right here, right now?” but as much as she wanted it, jennie stops your movements and turns to face you.

“i want a day without sex, y/n”

“huh? why, did you get your period or something?”

“no, i just want to enjoy this day without having to end it with sex like we always do”

your suspicions began to rise again. though you meet up with her every so often for your little fuck buddy system, you two rarely saw each other outside of that simply because of school and work. so for her to be asking for a day to just be with you without the sex makes you wonder why? and for what reason?

still, you decide to go along with it and see where it takes you. you leave the store without the black dress and start walking around the mall by jennie’s side. your left hand was in your pant pocket while you let your right hand swing in the air. when you feel jennie brush her hand against yours, you don’t move your hand for a moment to see if she tries to hold it. and you were right; she slowly tries to interlock your hands together, but you move your hand away and offer to carry her bags instead. this continued for the rest of your time at the mall together, her movements varying from trying to hold your hand or link arms with you, or even trying to snuggle up against you when you bumped into a classmate of yours. anything she tried to initiate, you would shut it down immediately.

on the way to your car, it was silent. you felt something brewing in the air and it didn’t feel good. so as you drive her home, you attempt to lighten the mood.

“damn miss kim, you have so many bags in the back, i can barely see in my rear view mirror”

dead silence.

“i honestly thought you were gonna buy the whole mall back there,” you quickly glance at her to find her staring out the window.

“alright, what’s wrong jennie? why the silent treatment?”

“is sex the only thing you want from me?” she asked, annoyed but her gaze never leaves the window.

“what are you talking about?”

“i know you know. i’m not stupid and neither are you. but is this really all you want out of this? out of us?”

“what ‘us’ are you talking about jen? this is just those things where we casually fuck”

“oh, so it really is just that. i’m just someone you call when you’re horny, that’s it”

“don’t act like you didn't start it!” you raise your voice slightly.

“that’s what it was before i fell in love with you! did you really think that we could pull this off without one of us catching feelings?”

“you seemed like the type, so yes i did”

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you pull into the driveway of jennie’s house and shut the engine off. you unbuckle your seatbelt and try to leave the car to go help with her bags, but jennie grabs you by the arm to keep you in your seat.

“i’m gonna ask you again y/n, is sex the only thing you want from me?”

you look at her in the eyes and you watch the tears form in them. this setup was dangerous from the start, but you really tried to keep things casual with her.

“yes. this was supposed to be just sex, and you fucked it up for us”

before you could even say anything else, she unbuckles her own seatbelt and gets out of your car without forgetting to slam the door. she grabs her bags from the trunk and also closes it with a slam. you didn’t even bother to help because you knew she’d reject it, and there was nothing you could do but watch as she angrily marches toward the entrance of her house that you used to be welcome in, until now.

-

the internet says it takes roughly 21 days to break a habit. for some people, it could be more and for some, it could be less. but for you and jennie, the routine you two shared managed to be broken in just one second with one sentence.

it’s 3:14am, you can’t sleep and you know you’ll wake up with dark circles under your eyes. still, you lay in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling as you wonder what the fuck was wrong with you.

thinking back to when you two first hooked up, there were no rules or terms and conditions to your situation with jennie. nothing was put in place, no one said that you couldn’t fall in love with each other, so why did you penalize her for it? you had no clue. maybe you were just a natural asshole. or were you just scared?

you can’t deny the fact that there were times you entertained the idea of being in a relationship with jennie. but yes, it did scare you - jennie is a well-known model and has an image to uphold, so what would the public think if they found out you, a broke college student, would be dating her? you’ve imagined the kind of comments you’d get from netizens and you wondered what kind of questions paparazzi would throw towards jennie: “jennie! is it true? are you dating an average college student?” “is it because you feel bad?” “do you pity the girl?” “does she want you for the money?”

it haunts you. you couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason jennie’s image gets ruined.

to try and soothe your brain, you pick up your phone to play some lofi music in hopes to fall asleep. your thumb hovers over a song before seeing a name flash on the top of the screen.

miss kim &lt;3 is calling

you let it ring a couple of times before answering,

“jennie?”

“y/n, hi i’m so sorry but um,” her voice is shaky, as if she was about to cry or if she was scared. you didn’t like either of those options.

“y/n i think i’m being followed. can you please come get me?”

“send your location, i’ll be there as soon as i can”

seeing that she was only a 10 minute walk away, you sprint to where she is and you find her standing in front of a light post in the park. as you approach her, you notice a figure standing near a bench, and a light suddenly illuminates from what looks like his phone; it seems as if he was checking it as if he wasn’t following jennie just now. he definitely noticed your presence but he waits to see if you’d leave her alone.

you whisper to jennie, “are you alright? did he hurt you?”

“i’m okay, he didn’t touch me. but if you didn’t come, i don’t know what he could’ve done. is he still there?”

your eyes glance up and you see the man still standing in the same spot, still looking at his phone.

“yeah, but i have an idea. i just hope it’ll work”

you wait for a moment and you watch his eyes come up from his phone, glances at you and jennie, and then turns to look in the opposite direction. you take this chance to quickly hide into a bush behind you, and you slowly crawl towards the man near the bench. when you’re close enough, you rustle the bushes to get his attention and you watch him get startled by the sudden movement. to add on, you start barking and growling like a dog which made you feel stupid, but it was convincing enough to make him run the opposite way from jennie.

she walks towards you, or the bush rather, and calls for you - “he’s gone now, you can come out now little guy”

“little guy my ass," you say as you dust yourself off of any dirt. "but i honestly didn’t think that would work. do you really think it was convincing?”

“yup, you were a real bitch back there y/n”

“touché”

jennie giggles, “but really, thank you. i’m sorry you were the one i called, i just didn’t know who else would come at this time and you’re the first person in my emergency contacts.”

you say nothing. you simply stare at her, admiring her features that make her who she is. you’re glad you’re her emergency contact. not her manager, not her friends, not even her family; it’s you.

you reach out your hand, "why don't you stay the night? and you can stay as long as you need to”

-

jennie sits at the dinner table, watching as you prepare breakfast for the two of you. you insisted she just sit back and relax after what happened last night.

“i’m fine y/n, i could’ve helped you cook”

“it’s alright, you must be tired and hungry”

you place down her plate that was filled with two pancakes, two sunny side up eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit on the side. you set yours down and take a seat, excited to dig in after hearing your stomach growl.

it’s silent for the most part. you don’t want to bring up last night’s events, and you figured jennie must’ve wanted some peace and quiet.

“so y/n..”

well, so much for peace and quiet. you looked up at her in response.

“can we talk? about us?”

“actually yes, we should”

jennie clenches her knife and fork, bracing herself for the worst that could happen.

“jen, i gotta be honest with you. i was just scared of falling in love with you. you know, you have this image you need to maintain and i just didn’t want to be the reason it gets tarnished. i refused to fall in love because i didn’t want any of us to get hurt in the long run”

she says nothing and just pokes at a blueberry, rolling it around the plate.

“however,” you pause slightly for dramatic effect.

“i realized that it was stupid of me to stop myself from falling. and it was also stupid of me to pretend that you weren’t falling. and i realized that i really love the idea of being your emergency contact”

jennie still says quiet, but now she manages to look at you with hope in her eyes.

“basically what i’m saying is that i want to give us a try. not just for the sex, not just this whole thing we got going on, i want the real deal with you. i know for a fact i won’t be perfect, we definitely won't be perfect. but for you i’m willing to try. because it’s you jen; i choose you.”

a gummy smile makes its way on jennie’s face, the events of the night long forgotten. at last, she feels seen and loved by you, the only person she’s ever wanted to feel loved by and the only person she’s willing to risk her image for.

“alright ash ketchum, let me help you with the dishes”

“damn, way to ruin a moment miss kim” you joke, as you follow your soon-to-be girlfriend to the sink.

[gabessquishytum]

Sorry for a non-horny request lol, but I am going crazy with this idea. This is not exactly romantic but it's upto you if you want to make it such.

Warning: major character death

Morpheus de Endless, is a grumpy old man, who has a number of health issues. He also happens to be a best selling author of all time but he does have some controversies surrounding him, most notedly his high profile divorce with a famous artist with whom he had a son but the baby died only a year later. It is said that Mr. De Endless excused himself from his public life after this incident, still that didn’t stop him from suffering a lot under Rodrick Burgess in whose publishing company he worked. Now, at the age of 65, Morpheus de Endless is an isolated man who only lets his doctor visit him once a week.

And then, his family decides that he needs a caretaker. A decision Morpheus absolutely hates because he can take care of himself, but still a care taker is hired. On Monday morning, a young man, probably in his late 20s or early 30s comes to his mansion and takes on all the responsibilities with ease. He is incharge of all the medicines, food (though Morpheus barely eats, taking Morpheus to parks to feed the birds and other things.

Morpheus doesn't like this new man, but he cannot argue with his elder sister about it anymore so he just settles on grumply leaving left over food on his plate or intentionally not having medicines.

Meanwhile, Hob is astonished by this man. It was as if a 10 year old lived in the body of a 60 something man. And Hob was trying really hard to make Mr. De Endless take care of himself, to keep himself alive. Because Hob knew, in fact on the first glance he knew, that Morpheus de Endless didn’t want to live anymore. So he tries his best.

Then one day, he blows up on Mr. De Endless, shouting that the man should at least try to look on the brighter side, to at least maintain a schedule instead of killing his body slowly everyday. And Morpheus understands miraculously. He doesn't like it, but to just make Hob’s job easier he improves his habits a bit. From here, things start getting easier, Morpheus genuinely enjoyes his trip to the park with Hob and even those conversations in the silence of the night in the comfort of his home office where Hob tells him about a family he had lost long ago and in return Morpheus tells him about his son, whom he dearly misses.

Now, here, either we can go for happy ending, or a bitter-sweet one. Personally I am all for some bitter-sweet cake so here we go: one morning, Morpheus wakes up and steals Hob’s bicycle. He has a camera with him which he used a lot in his youth and he uses it now after years to capture the beauty of modern London. He had not explored London like this in 20 years and his heart is full for the first time after losing his child. He also uses a pay phone to call his younger brother who lives in a separate country and they have a heartfelt conversation.

Then he returns home at evening only to be reprimanded by Hob and his elder sister for disappearing like that but Morpheus honestly doesn't mind. When the next morning Hob checks up on him he finds Morpheus dead in his bed. Of course a whole day of cycling for a man with heart conditions is bad news. But he did leave a letter behind for Hob, thanking him for making his last days better than ever.

Ah, thank you for sharing this with me!! It's such a sweet story. I really do love the idea of Hob being this positive spark in Morpheus’s life. He's retreated in on himself, grown used to being alone and become a little resentful of a world that doesn't seem to want him. Then Hob comes in with his stories, his gentle routine and his all around youthfulness. Morpheus finds it annoying: Hob is loud, careless, a little selfish. But then one day Hob has him sit down and flick through his old photos. And Morpheus recollects that he was also once loud, careless and selfish when he was young. He starts cutting Hob some slack, and Hob in turn also becomes more patient. He learns not to be frustrated by Morpheus’s moods, to be kind instead. They find things in common instead of bickering. Sometimes Hob stays the night with Morpheus and they talk about everything, or just fall asleep together. There's love between them now, and it really doesn't matter what kind of love. They both needed it.

Poor Hob. Losing Morpheus is so unexpected, because he was sure that despite his frailty he would live a little longer. He could have had 20 years. Hob sits with the birds and just cries and cries because he loves Morpheus so much and they barely even had a year together.

But he has the camera, and that evidence of Morpheus’s last day. Pictures of strangers and buildings and pigeons. They all mean so much and they're bursting with love. Hob will hang onto those. And he's not sure if and when, but one day he'll hold Morpheus’s hand again, and they'll look at the pictures together.

[eastcoastboyos]

Awestruck

Assembing in the kitchen of our airBnB, the boyos scarfed down leftovers and cereal. Blake tackled last night's taco meat like a champ despite waking up with the snifffles. The disease has spread.

Zipping over to Kennedy Space Center, the boys hustled to the bus tour line having learned the night before that it is a must do according to Reddt. The tour takes you around the massive shuttle assembly building via roads lined with canals (where I saw my first gator!) and deposits you at the Saturn V rocket building.

Not really knowing what the Saturn V was, the boys and I went through an introductionary video and mock control room, which simulated the first launch of USA into space. Absolutely incredible. The windows chattering with the rocket launch, the lights flickering on the actual control panels as operator voices echoed simultaneously, you really did feel like you were there in the launch room on such of a historic moment.

Exiting this room with a horde of blind folk, the boys were gob smacked, rounding a corner and coming right up to the massive rear engine boosters of an actual Saturn V rocket above our heads. Jaws dropped as we marveled at the scale and complexity of the machine.

Exploring the area, we encountered another phenomenal theater simulating the moon landing and marveled at the moon rocks, space suits, and lunar buggys around us. Blake and I joked about the Apollo 11 error code 1202 with our own error codes: 8008 for boob and 9009 for making a poop.

Finishing our exploration of Saturn V, the boys bussed back to the main compound and headed into the Atlantis Space Shuttle Building. Representing the next phase of NASA spacecraft, we were treated to another informative video on the origin of the vessel and an appreciation for the decade of engineering to design the shuttle. To our awe once again, after the imerisve shuttle launch video finished, the video screens rolled up to reveal the actual Atlantis space shuttle behind. 🤯

If our brain chunks weren't already sxattered enough, beside the large space shuttle Atlantis was a small glass box containing the actual wood and paper concept model for the shuttle built ten years prior of the first shuttle launch. Having this massive machine and simple model side by side was such an incredible symbol of engineering design to creation. We all agreed how inspirational everything was.

Goofing around, the boys played with space toilets, I reviewed some employment contract details, and we discussed favourite roller coasters while in line for the cockpit launch simulator, another winner. Some somber moments were had looking at the Challenger and Discovery debris and Joel remarked how KSC had you like "Shittttttt" and then the next moment, a quiet and reflective "shit....".

Taking a quiet snooze in the car, some of the boys recuperated as we made the final stretch to Miami Beach: 2200km in total. Discussing the long term debt cycle, toll road uncertainty, the abundance palm trees and canals, and the worst traffic and drivers we've seen thus far, the boys made it to Miami as the sun was setting. Dylan remarked at the endless lawyer billbords such as "I heart my attorney, 300k" and noted: " Half this country's entire economy is lawyers sueing everone".

Our airBnB is in a cool Latin area, and after obtaining some missing sheets, the boys downed some Corona's, slapped each of with tortillas, placed Georgie on the mantel, and head out on the town. Miami Beach is saturated with art Deco and our heads swiveled as we looked at them lit up in the night with color. Miami Beach is bumping.

Sports cars, fancy outfits, mango strip clubs, gangs on ATVs and motor bikes, the place's energy seem to match New York. Things seem full circle. After resting on the grass for a moment to process everything, (#fiveIntroverts) the boys grabbed margaritas and nachos at Oh Mexico. Letting the night fall late to the sound sof Latin musc, we savored reminiscing about the trip while periodically singing Happy birthday in Spanish.

We miss you Ben.

Derek

[butterflyintochains]

In Safer Arms

Pairings: Anthony Beauvillier x Fem!OC (romantic), Ben Hutton x Fem!OC (ex-fwb)

Summary: Veronica DeAngelis is a popular musician from Boston, the 26 year old has been on and off friends with benefits with Stanley Cup winner Ben Hutton for the last four years while living in California. He's always had a habit of ditching her for a new girlfriend, and getting back with her once the relationship inevitably fizzled out. It's been a painful cycle for her, but she hasn't complained once, not in public anyway. Until he abandons her in Greece as soon as his head is turned.

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Early August 2024

She's such a fucking idiot, she really is, four years of being used and put away when he didn't want her anymore. Treating her body, her heart, her home like a pit-stop for whenever he was bored. That Knights summer trip to Corfu was a mistake, she should've known someone was going to bring a friend who became his new passion. At least Noah has woken her up to the asshole she was in this mess with now, part of the gang, but not allowed at games, no social media interactions, not allowed to so much as wear his jersey. It's not like she'd have had time to, what with three albums out already. But, she was never going to be anything more than his plaything. Her flight home to Henderson was due to run through Pittsburgh, with a day layover. But, as she collects her suitcase from baggage claim, she heads to a bathroom to think. She's never stopped loving someone so quickly, him fucking off to Mykonos with that girl before she even woke up this morning was the last straw. She's got her carry on, suitcase, and her treasured Gibson Hummingbird in its case. She can't face Nevada, not right now. So, she leaves the airport and calls for an Uber to a hotel, checking in for a week or so. She's not going home, not right now. After a shower, and a change of clothes, Veronica collapses into bed, passing out immediately.

The next day is spent in a haze, waking up in tears, before dragging herself out of bed to eat something, her stomach roaring at her with a day of missed meals. Seeing nothing else she can do today, she takes herself, her song book, and her guitar to a local park to work on some music. She was working on her fourth album, but it seems like a new direction is needed. Veronica finds a good tree to sit against, and gets to work. The park humming around her with late summer activity as she strums for about an hour, looking for a hook. ''You know who you are, and now so will she. Four years of agony was all you gave me. Five years younger than you, but what could I do? I was nothing but discreet, never asked for anything concrete. I gave you my time, and never crossed the line.'' She writes the verse down, and tries to find a chorus. ''Forever on the periphery, how little do you think of me? Your stigmata all over me, a wound no one else can see. I saw it with my eyes, was witness to your hypocrisy, felt your lies on my skin. You'd tell me I was going nuts, while all you gave me was: death by a thousand cuts.'' She writes the chorus down, and titles the song 'A Thousand Cuts' She's so lost in her work that she doesn't hear someone shouting her name. ''Veronica!'' She looks up from her writing, seeing someone she didn't expect to ever see again. ''Anthony?'' He jogs over to sit on the grass with her. They met while she was doing music training in New York. ''Long time no see, Vero, what're you doing here?'' He asks her.

Veronica adds something to the second verse of her song. ''Ben did it again, thought he'd grown out of it now that he's 31, but I was wrong.'' She says to him. ''Your turn: why are you here?''

Anthony laughs, pointing to the team logo on his hoodie. ''I'm a Penguin now.'' He continues, blue eyes trained on her brown ones. ''So... he did it again, huh?'' Veronica nods, trying so hard not to tear up again, she knows that once she starts, it'll never stop. ''Yeah, met some girl Noah brought to Greece with him and his girlfriend, and here I am, with no idea what to do next.''

Anthony proposes, ever a ray of sunshine. ''How about you move here? You're close to Boston and New York here, and further from him too.'' She does love the sound of that, Vegas was a good experiment, but she's too far from her elderly nonna, and the desert depresses her. ''Y'know what, Tito? I might just do that.''

Back in the hotel that night, she fixes verses two and three of A Thousand Cuts.

Verse Two: Eating from your hands, listening to each of your commands. Filling a spot on your roster that we both knew was never mine. I was that dirty little secret, until you found something divine. Could never wear your number, but your touch left me with brands. You know who you are, you know I'm right. That's how I know you'll back down from this fight. Verse Three: Your fortress is gold plated, but you'll see my shadow forever. If you think this is over, then duck for cover. I've kept my silence long enough, now I'm free. And there's nothing you can do to muzzle me. You know who I am, and so will she. You see, newly crowned princess, this is not about you. I'm coming for the one who started it, when I was twenty-two.

It needs a good bridge, this one will be longer, and her next single. But, now she has a plan for the immediate future.

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September 2024

A Thousand Cuts takes a backseat to moving to Pittsburgh over the coming weeks, the song is just a concept in her book, the bridge still unwritten. Getting her stuff shipped from Henderson was stressful, but she can handle that better than most can. Her apartment in Henderson is on the market now, and her label are aware of the move. The new place isn't an apartment, it's a house. Not a mansion, but there's loads of room for her to live now. She's just around the block from Anthony as well, and not far from some of the other Penguins. She has the second bedroom set up as a home studio. After final set up is done, she gets back on with her song, finally adding the bridge.

Bridge: It shouldn't be this hard. I knew what we agreed to. But, no one told my heart. When I woke up that day in Corfu. I don't even know where to start. You know I'd never do this to you. But, I guess that's where our ways part. Each time, a death in miniature. Each conversation became a lecture. Did you ever care for me? Did I ever mean something to you?

Veronica gets a basic acoustic version of the song recorded, and saves the file into a new album file on her computer. She'll meet with her backing band after New Year to get on with some work. Anthony texts her.

Tito: Some of the guys are at my place, wanna come over?

She replies.

Veronica: Sure.

She packs her writing book into her guitar case, freshens herself up a bit, and heads out. The walk isn't far, just around the corner and across the street. Anthony lets her in with a hug, she sees some of the team in his living room. Michael Bunting, Drew O'Connor, and Cody Glass if she remembers correctly from the games she watched from home or on the road. ''Hi, Veronica!'' Drew says, he came to her last Pittsburgh show. ''Hi, Drew.'' She grabs some water from the fridge before sitting down with the boys. ''Tito told us about Ben, fucking asshole if you ask me.'' Michael says.

Veronica hints, helping herself to a sandwich, it's just occurred to her that she's barely eaten since eight this morning. ''Yeah, well, he'll be the target of my next album.''

Cody says, looking excited. ''Really? Can't wait.'' While they watch a movie, Veronica gets an idea for another song, this one shorter than A Thousand Cuts, her floodgates are open now.

How You Like It Verse 1: I woke up this morning alone. Where did you go this time? Nine AM, in a country that's not mine. I told our friends I was fine. They told me you were gone. Left in the night. For a last minute flight. Verse 2: I found your note that day. You said you couldn't stay. You told me you felt it all over again. That you simply had to leave me. Didn't know where to look. But that was all it took. So, please, don't come to find me. I'm not there anymore. Verse 3: If it takes two to Tango. Welcome to the new show. It's for you, in case you didn't know. For the lies you expected me to forgive. For each memory you force me to relive. Refrain: I took flight by myself that night. Now, I've got your gifted demons to fight. You kept me a secret for too long. You know you're in the wrong. Threw me into a snake pit. Now, we'll see how you like it.

The lyrics put themselves together in about fifteen minutes, she'll add the acoustic guitar once she's home. This could make for a good intro track to the album. Anthony must be looking over her shoulder as she writes, because he just smiles when she catches his gaze.

A couple of days later, How You Like It is recorded as an acoustic demo, and work has begun on the album in earnest. She has a bit of a wild plan for this process, she's going to write and record each song in the order they'll go on on the album. So, writing for the third track 'Your Worst Nightmare' begins while she's attending a team picnic in the park with Anthony. ''New song?'' He asks her, noticing her writing. Veronica nods. ''Yeah, I'm writing them in tracklist order for this album.''

Bryan Rust sneaks a look at her lyrics for the first two songs. ''I can tell this one's gonna be darker than Liberation already.'' Veronica chuckles, and says. ''That's the plan, Rusty.'' She also begins brainstorming lyrics for the fourth song 'Sloppy Seconds'. ''Can you play us something, Vero?'' Rickard Rakell asks her. Veronica says, thinking of one of her lighter songs, but, she doesn't have any anymore, really. ''Yeah, let's see...'' She finds the hook for Pure As The Driven Snow by Rachel Zegler, and sings for the group. ''This world is dark. This world is scary. I've taken some hits. So, no wonder I'm wary. It's why I need you. You're as pure as the driven snow.'' She gets a nice round of applause when she finishes the song. She adds a chorus to Your Worst Nightmare while Anthony talks to Kris Letang.

Your Worst Nightmare Chorus I bet you thought I'd go away quiet. Off into the shadows to put up with it. You'd always say you meant nothing by it. Throwing me aside without a single care. End our little secret, you thought I'd never dare. Too naive, too under your spell. Little could you tell. I've become your worst nightmare. Your worst nightmare.

Sloppy Seconds also gets a chorus, both songs already having verses.

Sloppy Seconds Chorus Every time you'd call, I'd respond. Forever ready to be at your side. Guess I couldn't help myself, could I? Then, you'd force me to turn a blind eye. To the girls you would find. Who were of a more accepted kind. What monster steals hearts and absconds? Why do I need to be your sloppy seconds?

By the end of the week her album is up to five new songs. Your Worst Nightmare and Sloppy Seconds demos are recorded and saved. As is the demo for the fifth song: Narcissus Reborn. Five songs in five weeks, that might just be a record for her. Anthony asks her to dinner one night, her first real date in over four years. He picks her up wearing a suit, she's dressed to the nines herself in a purple dress and heels. ''You look incredible.'' Anthony says as they go into the restaurant. ''So do you.'' She responds. She's terrible at flirting, she never really learned how, or was allowed to. They order the same pasta dishes with red wine. ''How's the album coming?'' Anthony asks.

Veronica smiles, pushing her hair back a bit. ''Great, hard to imagine that it's going to be my fourth already. How are you finding being a Penguin?''

Anthony beams. ''Playing with my two childhood idols? It's everything I've ever dreamed of. Hope I get to stick around.'' Veronica assures him, this was never so easy with Ben, it was never allowed to be. ''You will, sometimes it's meant to be, y'know?'' It throws her while they're having tiramisu for dessert, they've both moved around so much, and are longing for a permanent home. ''What was it like? That morning?'' He asks her after he pays for dinner and they've left for his car. ''Terrible, I thought it'd be painless by then, four years of the same treatment. If anything, it felt worse, because I realized I loved him.''

Anthony asks her, the shade of something in his voice, something Veronica can't put a name to. ''Do you still love him?'' Veronica looks into his perfect blue eyes. ''Not the way I used to, now it's the kind of love that angers me. Like when you're woken up from a good dream.''

Anthony says, letting that sink in for a bit. ''Yeah, I got you.'' Veronica says, not sure where this has come from. ''I miss who I was when we took off for that vacation, I dunno, maybe this album can exorcise those demons.'' Anthony kisses her cheek, and places a supportive hand on her back. ''It will, and I wanna be the first to hear it.'' Veronica runs a hand through his hair. ''I can arrange that.'' It's weird, this feels more comfortable after a single date than her four years with Ben did.

Over the coming days, Anthony gets on the road for the team's preseason games, and Veronica gets to writing, she'll take a brief break from writing in early October. The album gains two more songs: On Thin Ice, and Here's My Hell. After recording the two demos, she goes down to watch the team train, taking an Uber. A car is next on her priority list, she sold her car in the move. Anthony finds her gaze once she sits down near the blueline, she was never allowed to watch Ben train, or even attend his games. He waves to her with a smile, she mirrors this. Her heart fluttering. It's hard, being someone's dirty little secret, so Anthony's open friendliness is a lot to handle. But, it's like a warm coat instead of a flame on her skin. She watches them train, making a mental note to herself to add PPG Paints in the main city to her next tour. Sullivan blows his whistle, calling time on training. She finds Anthony afterwards, and hugs him. ''You looked like a rockstar out there, Tito.''

Anthony smiles, his hands on her back. ''Helps having a real one supporting me, Vero. We still on for movie night?'' Veronica nods, she's hosting this time. ''Yeah, of course we are.'' It's nice having someone she can make plans with, who she knows will be there. They grab some food, and Veronica is introduced to the core for the first time. Erik is really funny, Geno gives her a bear hug, Sid is so polite, Kris asks her about her music. They don't ask for the story, thank God. ''So... Beau has a girlfriend already?'' Noel Acciari asks.

Jack St.Ivany says. ''Can't a guy and a girl be friends, Cookie?'' Veronica and Anthony share a look, but say nothing. Veronica has never been a girlfriend before, she doesn't know if she even deserves to be one. Later, Anthony asks her about lunch. ''Did Noel's question hurt, Vero?''

Veronica sniffles a bit, must be getting colder now, and gets into Anthony's car with him. ''I dunno... I've never been anyone's girlfriend before, it just... hit me, I guess?'' She's sat at home while girlfriends have supported Ben, forever the second choice, the one he ran back to after breakups. Never his girlfriend, even after four years.

She gets home, and heads to her studio to work, on song number eight.

Diamonds For Pebbles Chorus: It's kinda funny, isn't it? Trying so hard to control a fire you've lit. Forcing me to run to the end of my chain. Ignoring the unbearable pain. Begging for anything I could get. My shadow dim against your shining stars. Every instinct demanding I rebel. Was I your diamond or your pebble? Verse One: Always the palace maid, never your queen. As long as your image was still clean. Yet, I was always loving, never asked for more. There was no pain too great for me to endure. I was there, for you, all for nothing. And now, there might be something. And, it scares me. Pre-Chorus: Will you ever stop this haunting? Will I ever know peace? Do I deserve this feeling in my soul? You did this to me, and you torment me still. Verse Two: I bent to your will, and now I'm going to break. I think meeting you was a mistake. You made me this way, have you nothing to say? You're not getting rid of me that easy. Someone in this world still cares for me. But, there's something I feel I don't deserve to be. Verse Three: I hope you live with this blood on your hands. Because I'm done caving to your endless demands. On my own now, but wasn't I always? There for you when your life would go sideways? Left with empty words while your girls got the world? This is my story, I'm telling it true. I'm not sorry if that upsets you.

She checks the date, the end of September, and records the acoustic demo before making herself some dinner. Her head is spinning, so she gets to bed early. Her writing break begins tomorrow, two weeks to take care of other things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 2024

October begins on a higher note, she finally has a nice car, and the house is fully completed. Dates with Anthony become further between now, the season now well and truly beginning for him. The press and social media have noticed her vanishing act, but she's too deep into her work to care right now. Her break is going well, she finds out on the fifth that her old apartment has been rented to one of the Knights rookies. That place is haunted, and an innocent nineteen year old is living there. Pittsburgh is home now, hopefully forever, and autumn looks even more beautiful this year. She gets home from a walk to a lovely bouquet of flowers on her doorstep, she picks them up, and sniffs them. A brief panic attack hitting her, what if someone told Ben where she lives? He'd always do this to get her back on side, send her gifts. Breathing deeply, Veronica gets inside, and checks for a card, they're from Anthony.

For my singer, Thought you could do with a pick-me-up, I hope you're not overworking yourself on album four. Can't wait to see you again, hope these can tide you over. I miss you everyday. Anthony.

She puts them in a vase, and gets on with baking some chocolate cookies that she knows Anthony likes. He's been so good to her, better to her than she deserves. She puts the tray in the oven, and selects a nice tin for them. The team are due to get back home tomorrow. She adds a small note to the wrappings.

For my Hockey player, Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful. Hope you're tearing it up as you deserve. I miss you so much, and I hope you like these. I'll be okay, I promise. Try not to worry about me too much, okay? Veronica.

She delivers them that night, using the spare key he gave her to get into his house. She's itching to get back on with the album, but this break will only last two weeks, so she's set on resting up. She sees it that night, on Instagram, Ben's new girlfriend at a Knights game. Your typical blondie, wearing his jersey like a queen's robe, smiling with the other ladies. Something Veronica never got to do, she barely spoke two words to half of them in the last year. Hidden away at home to watch him like the secret she was. This gives her an idea, her break is over as of tomorrow.

Her next song is written on piano, she sits at her keyboard looking for a good dark melody. Her book open on a blank page, pencil tucked behind her ear. This song won't have a chorus, it's going to be completely unique.

The Ballad of A Secret Verse 1: When we met that magical night, I was just twenty-two. Five years older, but you were lonely too. You had me at first glance, so I gave us a chance. Gave me your number, pulled me asunder. And, in your hands, I turned to gold. Entranced by you, my heart was sold. I saw heaven. I thought you did too. Verse 2: After the city of angels, you joined a new flock. Yet again, forced to be a new kid on the block. I held your hand, and you held mine. You promised me what we had was divine. Something shifted, you met someone else. I came back home, and you had changed. And a secret was what we became. Verse 3: At first, it was fine. At first, I didn't mind. Good friendship is hard to find. But, with each new girl, it was a new type of pain. She'd be in the sun, I was left out in the rain. She'd get to wear your number, I'd stay behind. Then, you'd crawl back to me when it was all over. And, kiss me in thanks for not blowing your cover.

She surveys her lyrics, singing them to herself to make sure they sound okay. This album has been so tiring to make, and she's not even recorded it all yet, just the demo tracks. This song will be going live, she can feel it, so it has to be good. The song, with seven verses, is finished the following day, and a demo is recorded.

Just before Halloween, Veronica is hanging out with some of the team and their ladies at Sidney Crosby's place. Another thing she was barely ever allowed to do in Vegas. Only when Ben didn't have a girlfriend. ''How's the album going, Vero?'' Michael Bunting asks. Veronica smiles brightly, and says. ''Good, got nine of my planned sixteen songs written, going to work on ten soon too.''

Hannah Jarry asks her. ''Any spoilers?'' Veronica laughs, and says, linking her arm through Anthony's. ''It's gonna be dark, really dark. Setlists for this tour are gonna be a nightmare, but I'll make it work.'' Little Hunter Rust strums some strings on her guitar, his dad says. ''Careful, Hunter, that looks expensive.''

Veronica smiles. ''It's okay, Bryan, he'll not hurt anything.'' Her hands are aching today, she's been going flat out to get this album written before New Year. ''Excited for the Anaheim game?'' She asks Anthony. He nods, and says. ''Yeah, should be fun.''

Sidney asks her. ''Have you ever been to a hockey game, Veronica?'' Each time she thinks she's okay, someone asks her a question that makes her want to die. ''No, I wasn't allowed to.'' The whole room shuts up at that. ''Couldn't wear Ben's jersey either, wasn't my place.''

Alex Nedeljkovic asks her. ''Why not?'' Veronica just says, after a moment to reel herself in from the edge. ''My presence could force him to answer too many uncomfortable questions, I was never his girlfriend, just a friend with benefits.'' Veronica shrugs, and says. ''It wasn't so bad, I'd be working myself half the time anyway, it was... fine, I guess?''

Sid's partner, Kathy, says, sounding horrified for her. ''Honey, that's abuse, he abused you. Stringing you along, picking you up and putting you aside like a toy, that's abuse.'' Veronica furrows her eyebrows and tilts her head. If she was abused, he'd have hit her and stuff, right? ''He never hit me, though, or yell at me. I just could never hold his attention very long, that's all.'' Her throat tightens, she can feel the tears coming, she's been holding them in for two months now, hanging from that cliff. Kris' wife, Catherine, says. ''Doesn't matter, honey, that's abuse.''

She turns to Anthony, and asks him. ''Tito, carissimo, was I abused? Did he abuse me?''

Anthony's blue eyes glisten with pain for her, he kisses her forehead, and says. ''Yeah, Vero, mon etoile, he did. And, you deserved better.'' Did she? Well, no one told her that. Finally, she allows herself to cry, sobbing out four years of pain and heartache into Anthony's shoulder. This will probably never stop hurting her.

The day before the game, she's working on song ten for the album, this one will be the darkest and most story driven yet.

Murder, Unkindness, Conspiracy Intro: You tried to cage me, put me away in silence. Keep me a secret, and expect my compliance. Clip my wings, dull my claws, and quiet my voice. Verse 1: First, I was your magpie, eternally charmed. Showered in shiny things, beautiful but happily unarmed. You were my falcon, strong and loving. You'd love and protect me from all who meant to kill. Naive as I was, I was taken up in the thrill. Chorus: I'll never be silent again, you've taken too much from me. Where you sent to kill me? Some grand conspiracy? You'll never trap me again, I'm not yours anymore. Where you plotting this? Was murder your next move? I deserved better, so now I've flown away. Free from your unkindness, I'm finally with my flock. Verse 2: Then, I was your crow, wise and loyal. We'd fly together whenever we were both able. You became my albatross, my guiding light. With you by my side, my soul took flight. My good luck charm, my guardian angel. Verse 3: Now, I'm your raven; and I see you for who you are. Stronger and wiser than I was back then. You're my vulture, circling above my corpse. Waiting for me to die, so you can take your fill. How long will you wait? How long are you willing to starve? Bridge: I'm in the sky, ruling my kingdom from on high. You'll see my wings for the rest of your life. Hear my song in the breeze, it'll make your blood freeze. You cast me aside, but I'm not leaving you be. What else did you expect from me? I was never your princess, but I've made myself a queen. And, my new flock are all flightless. Outro: There's nowhere you can hide, nothing you can do. This is for the abuse you put me through. The murder, unkindness, conspiracy. You'll never hear the last from me.

This one is going to be more symphonic, with plenty of big guitars from Scott and Gabriel. She'll be at her piano. She records the demo into the new album file, and grabs some lunch. Her doorbell rings, she answers it, someone from the team has a package for her. ''No charge, Miss DeAngelis.'' He says.

Veronica takes the package in her hands. ''Thank you so much.'' She signs for it, and takes it inside. She opens it while sitting on her sofa, a ticket to the Anaheim game tomorrow, and Anthony's 72 jersey. There's also a note from Kyle Dubas.

Miss DeAngelis, You've performed in this building six times, and now you'll be the guest of honor. It broke my heart to hear from Sid and Beau about your situation in Vegas, but we do things differently here. You're always welcome. Thought you'd want Anthony's jersey for the game. Can't wait to see you. Kyle Dubas, General Manager and President of Hockey Operations.

The following evening, she dresses nice for the game, and tidies her studio up a bit before leaving for the arena in her new car. She used to live in Anaheim, before she moved to Henderson. The team is different now, so few remain from when she last lived there. She parks, and slips the jersey on. She gets through admissions, and grabs some water and a chocolate bar. ''Oh, my gosh, mom! It's Veronica!'' A little girl says to her mom.

The mother says. ''She might want to be left alone, Rosie.'' Veronica smiles, and walks up to them. ''I've always got time for my little saints, what are your names?''

The girl in a Drew O'Connor jersey says. ''I'm Rose, and this is my mom, Allison. Can you sign my jersey, please?'' Veronica grabs a sharpie from her purse, and squats down to sign Rose's jersey. ''A Drew fan? Good choice, he's really nice.''

Allison asks. ''You know the team?''

Veronica nods. ''Yeah, I'm close with Anthony Beauvillier, hence the jersey.''

She finds her seat in the family section for the game. Feeling weird, she's performed here, but never been here as a spectator for anything. Her album isn't even done yet, and she's envisioning her stage and concert already. Geno scores super early in the game, but there are no further goals until late in the first when Zegras scores to tie it up. Drew and Cody score in the second for 3-1 before second intermission. ''Come on, Tito.''

Emmeli Rakell asks her. ''Enjoying the game, Vero?'' Veronica finishes her chocolate, and says. ''Yeah, like that we're winning too, hope Anthony scores soon.'' Her chest does something when she says his name, he makes her feel wanted, and it scares her. Kaitlyn Acciari smiles knowingly. ''You really like him, don't you?''

Veronica finally nods, acknowledging it to herself. ''Yeah, I think I just might, and I'm terrified of it. I've never been a girlfriend before, and it scares me that this is happening.''

Jordan Bunting holds her hand, and says. ''You deserve each other.'' Do they? Does she deserve him? Does she deserve this feeling in her heart? Third period starts, Troy Terry scoring midway through for 3-2. Anthony gets the game winner for 4-2. The ladies go backstage to meet their guys. Anthony takes Veronica into his arms after media and showers, hiding his face in her neck. ''I'm glad you came, Vero.'' He says to her.

Veronica smiles, placing her hands on his chest. ''There's nowhere I'd rather be tonight, Tito.'' Her heart does that thing again, but this time, she lets it. Ben's slowly fading into the past, and her present has his hands safely on her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 2024

By early November, album number four has two more songs, just before her second writing break. They'll be closing off the darker end of the album before things get a bit lighter toward the end. Till Boredom Do Us Part, and Nothing Left To Lose are shorter than Murder, Unkindness, Conspiracy. But, she's still pretty proud of them. That's twelve songs now, officially surpassing the lengths of both Voyages and Unspoken - her first two albums. She's almost there, nearly at the sixteen songs she'd planned for this album, and it feels so close already. But, for now, her break begins. She wakes up to notifications from twitter. She's not been near her social media since summer, but she checks them out anyway out of curiosity. There are two hashtags relating to her #WheresVeronica and #TitoVero. Along with some tweets of people speculating as to where she's been, and some pictures someone must've gotten from her last date with Anthony. They got dinner at her new favourite Italian place. There's also some stuff from Instagram. She mutes her social media notifications, and gets on with her day. She's meeting Anthony for a walk in the park today.

He swings by to have breakfast with her, then they head out, hand in hand. There's a chill in the air, the leaves are falling now, but Vegas could never hold a candle to Pittsburgh. At least Pittsburgh actually has seasons. ''Four songs to go already? God, that's been quick.'' Anthony says.

Veronica adjusts her scarf. ''Yeah, then I fly to New York to record it. Saw your goal and assist from last night while I worked, beautiful.'' Anthony smiles, turning a bit pink. ''Thank you.''

They veer off the normal paths, into a nice grove of trees, all laid bare by autumn. It's quiet here, private, just the wind and some little animals for company. ''Vero, these past couple months together have been amazing, and I know you're still healing, but can we give this a shot? You and me?'' Anthony says, taking her hands in his. Veronica doesn't fight this anymore, any of it, he's here, he's present, and she loves him. ''I am still healing, but I have you and my music for that, Tito. I've never been anyone's girlfriend before, but I'm ready to be yours.'' They finally close that distance between them with a kiss, it's comforting, calming, and healing. Veronica lets herself be loved, he's here, he chooses her, and he loves her. He holds her, and she holds him. They come up for air, and gaze deep into each other's eyes. Veronica sees it in her boyfriend's ocean eyes, that thing she's never been granted from anyone else... truth.

A week or so passes, Sid has invited her over for team thanksgiving. She wants to get a song demoed before then, leave herself less work down the end stretch of the year, An Uneven Exchange is demoed now. She has a few verses of another song called Pound of Flesh done while Anthony is way with the team. The chorus is evading her though, then, one night while she's in bed, it comes to her.

Pound of Flesh Chorus: So, I'm finally done. But, don't ever think you've won. I'm moving on, and you can't stop me. I've found someone who actually wants me. I know, it must sound so revolutionary. You've had your pound of flesh, stripped me to the bone. But, I'm no longer there whenever you feel alone.

She rereads her lyrics for song fourteen, and agrees with herself to demo it on guitar tomorrow. But, it's getting late, so she gets to sleep at last. Wrapped up in one of Anthony's cozy hoodies, she can hardly believe she actually has a boyfriend now. Someone who is hers, and won't just put her aside when he's bored or distracted.

Pound of Flesh is demoed the following afternoon, and she gets thinking about what to bring to thanksgiving dinner. She's second generation Italian, so it won't be hard. She gets a list of ingredients for her nonna's tiramisu.

On the day, she dresses into her favourite red dress, and puts her tiramisu on her passenger seat. For the first time ever, she's allowed to attend a team holiday dinner. There's no girlfriend to compete with, she is Anthony's girlfriend now. He greets her first once she's inside Sid's house. ''You look incredible, mon etoile.'' He kisses her. Veronica beams, truly feeling his words tonight. ''So do you, cuore mio.''

Anthony asks her. ''How many more songs?'' Veronica sits down with him, his arm draped across her shoulders. ''Two. Then, I go to New York to record it after New Year.''

Drew asks her. ''Any Italian Song on this one?'' She's always had at least one song fully in Italian on her albums, but hasn't included one this time. ''No, completely slipped my mind this time, Drew. I don't even know what I'm calling this one yet.''

They sit down to dinner together, the Ellers brought the turkey this year it seems. The Karlssons made a cheesecake. Veronica's tiramisu goes down a hit 'grazie mille, nonna.' She thinks to herself. Anthony loves it as well, the greatest victory of tonight. ''What are you thankful for this year, Vero?'' Anthony asks her in a private moment outside. Veronica takes a deep breath. ''Music, real friendships, and you. How about you, Tito?''

Anthony smiles, kissing her again. ''This team, and my beautiful girlfriend.''

Veronica says, dark eyes welling up with the gravity of this. ''I love you, Anthony.'' She's never been able to say that to anyone, and it feels so good to finally have someone to say it to. ''I love you too, Veronica.'' He's the first to say that to her, and he means it. They kiss once more before heading back inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 2024

Winter has come to Pittsburgh, and Veronica has never been happier for it. Song fifteen is done and demoed, called The Alchemist. She's got one final song to work on for this album before she goes for her recording sessions in New York in January. She'll also fly back to Boston for Christmas, her family have never done thanksgiving, but you never miss an Italian Christmas. One day, after buying Anthony's present - a dogtag necklace engraved with their initials and lucky numbers 10 and 72. She sits down at her keyboard, and gets to finding a nice melody for the final song. She finds one, and gets to writing.

In Safer Arms Verse 1: So, here I am, where the three rivers meet. I've finally landed on my feet. My wings are forever bruised, but never broken. I'm at the edge of a story unspoken. I'm going to be fine, that much I know. I can plant my trees and watch them grow. Chorus A: I'll never be who I was before. There's no more heartbreak to endure. Where gold becomes steel, I let myself heal. Put aside my grief, and it's such a relief. This raven is free now, with someone who is true. I'm in safer arms, with my beloved seventy-two. Verse 2: You were never going to love me. I see that plain as day. All I was to you was something to be hidden away. Cinderella in her basement, you threw away the key. This was never going to work, you'd never stay. So, east, I flew. Away to somewhere new. Verse 3: For four years, I was your secret. You'll remain my life's greatest regret. I never knew love, I never knew home. Never knew if either would ever come. Now, I have both, and it feels like a dream. I've finally found someone who is what he'd seem. Chorus B: I've remade myself from the pain. And, I'm never going back to that place again. I was trapped in that fortress too long. Never again, you'll see you were wrong. Those four years will be hard to erase. But, I'm gone without a trace. This raven is free now, with someone who is true. In safer arms, with my beloved seventy-two. Refrain: Don't come looking, because I'm not there. But, you'll always hear my song in the air. Reborn, remade, resurrected. Life never goes the way we expected. This raven is free now, her love is flightless. For the first time in my life, I live doubtless.

She demos it right then and there, feeling like she's flying as she records the first iteration of the song. The last song for this album, the last thing she'll write before release. This is Anthony's song, her song for him, for how much he's helped heal her. And, once the last line is sung, that's it. She's done with the demo tracks for this album. Now, for a title. She scans through every lyric of every song, and comes up dry. But, only one word really works anyway... Renaissance. She renames the album file, and grabs some dinner.

A couple of days later, she's visiting the guys after training. Veronica kisses Anthony as soon as she can. ''Track sixteen is demoed, it's all together for January!''

Still in his jersey and skates, but not caring, he sweeps her into his arms, lifting her off her feet. ''Already? Wow, what's the last song called?''

Veronica says, once back on the floor. ''It's the nicest song on the album, In Safer Arms. The album is going to be called Renaissance.'' Anthony kisses her. ''Can't wait to hear it.''

Sid says, ever a dutiful captain for this city. ''We could do a listen party here once it's fully done.'' Veronica flushes, thanking her genes that her olive skin hides it slightly. ''That's fine, Sidney, honestly...'' Anthony insists, his hands still on her back. ''No, that's an amazing idea, we could totally do that.'' Looks like she's not winning this one, but she's too happy to care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 2025

The album is done, fully recorded, edited, mastered - everything. Those three weeks in New York were hectic, but Renaissance is done for a Valentine's Day release. The art is wonderful - a raven in a gilded cage upon a throne. Last thing is the liner notes, but her graphic artist is handling that. Veronica pens a letter for this album, as she has in the past.

To all those who have been reborn. I was in a toxic friends with benefits relationship for four years, one I've never spoken about publicly to anyone, it began when I was 22 and he was 27. I was his distraction when he was single, and I hated every minute of it. Now, at 26, I'm happy for the first time in five years, with someone who I truly love. I've been through hell, and come out reborn. This album is my renaissance. And, I hope you find yours. With love - Veronica.

Digital release will be the day before physical, but it's finally done. Island are delighted with the early listen they got, and she leaves New York for home with an early copy in her bags. This has been the hardest secret to keep in her whole life, but she's only got another month or so to wait. Anthony picks her up from the airport with a kiss. ''Well, how did it all go?'' He asks her once they're in his car.

Veronica pulls the blank CD case out of her bag. ''It's done, and I'm so excited.''

The next day, the family she's now a part of, not someone on the fringes, gather at Cranberry in a media room for the listen party. Veronica puts the CD on. ''This is my best work yet, so be nice.'' She returns to her seat with Anthony. The album opens with violins and piano for How You Like It, just her voice alone, like a funeral dirge. Anthony takes her hand, beaming with pride at her. Narcissus Reborn gets the tears going. ''My screams ringing hollow. All I am is your Echo. Just a boost to your precious ego. Why can't you just let me go? After all the promises we've sworn. You're just my Narcissus Reborn.'' Matt Grzelyck puts a supportive hand on her shoulder from the row of seats behind. The Ballad Of A Secret is a calm, but angry, piano acoustic with Scott's guitar coming in later. The song she didn't expect to get a big reaction is definitely Murder, Unkindness, Conspiracy. ''Holy shit, this is the best one yet.'' Drew says.

The album's back act is the more optimistic end, coming to a resolution in The Alchemist, and In Safer Arms. Anthony asks, tears streaming down his perfect face. ''Is that about me?''

Veronica dries his eyes, and laughs. ''Surprise?'' He leans down to kiss her on the lips. ''Je t'aime.''

Veronica happily says. ''Ti amo.''

A couple of days later, she confirms single release for A Thousand Cuts with her label. One of four or five singles she'll release for this album.

The single drops on Spotify and YouTube three days later. With a beautiful visualizer. She'll film the videos in the summer. She also needs to get on with scheduling and designing her tour. Social media blows up, Veronica checks the comments one morning over breakfast.

EphemeralSaint: Oh, my God! She's back! And, darker than ever? No idea where Vero's has been over the last few months, but welcome back, queen! Stan Unspoken: Can we talk about A Thousand Cuts, please? Where did that come from? ChiefSaint10 Album please, queen? Vero's Daughter: Where's she been? She's vanished from Ben's social media, nobody in Vegas has seen her in months. Something must've happened. Grammy Watch: Oof, this one hits like a truck, wonder what this is about? Tortured Poet: Hello? Veronica, where have you been? What is this?

Anthony comes down from bed, ready for their day to chill together, one of precious few they'll get in the coming months. ''Bon matin, mon etoile.'' He says, kissing her.

Veronica smiles, and says, French sounds so good from him. ''Buongiorno, cuore mio.''

Anthony asks, grabbing himself some breakfast, and sitting at the table with her. ''People hyped over your song?'' Veronica nods proudly, she'd anticipated this reaction, but this has been a lot even for her. ''Yeah.'' While Anthony eats, she puts a tweet up.

@/Veronica_DeAngelis: All will be Revealed In good timE. patieNCe is kEy my dear SaintS. i love you All - V10

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 2025

Veronica_DeAngelis:

liked by: titobeauvi91, GabeCarpenter12, islandrecords, and 2 million others.

Veronica_DeAngelis: Three hints, it begins in a week, good luck, my saints - HCM, Veronica DeAngelis.

replies:

titobeauvi91: Wonder what this is hmm... 🤔

Veronica_DeAngelis: You already know, cuore mio.

drewoc: Ooh, I love this ARG you're doing.

Saint4Life: Raven... painting... city?

Veronica_DeAngelis: That's all you're getting, good luck - HCM.

kletang_58: That third pic looks familiar.

tjarry35: Wanna help your people out, Vero?

Veronica_DeAngelis: Nope, it'd spoil the fun - HCM.

LoveV10: What does HCM mean?

VegasLights: That's what I'm wondering, did Vero get a second degree while she was away? If so, slay queen!

V10Grammy2k25: Calling Beauvillier 'cuore mio'? And all the Penguins in her feed? Where'd the Knights go?

LoveV10: OMG... I just checked her list! They're all blocked! Including Ben! Saint4Life: Oh... no way? Really? LoveV10: Yeah! Down to their wags as well, everyone she knows who's ever worn that jersey is blocked! Saint4Life: And all the Penguins in her list? Girlie fled east for some reason?

barzal97: Tito just texted me, Vero, can't wait!

Veronica_DeAngelis: Thank you, Mat - HCM. LoveV10: Mat!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The post on Instagram was genius, Anthony is really the best brainstorming partner. The Raven Queen stuff is all her, but the Game is his idea. Your Worst Nightmare is released as a single today. Veronica puts up another few tweets while relaxing with some Netflix.

@/Veronica_DeAngelis: Nothing better than turning gold into steel, am I right, my loves? - HCM 🖤 @/Veronica_DeAngelis: Can ravens be friends with flightless birds? 🤔 - HCM 🖤 @/Veronica_DeAngelis: Still dusting stupid sand from my wings, smh - HCM 🖤

Valentine's Day comes quickly, she and Anthony exchange gifts and cards, and have a chilled out day together. Four Nations is on right now, so they get to chill at his place today, her first ever Valentine's Day. Also today, is the release of Renaissance to the world. She puts out a tweet and a post on Instagram.

@/Veronica_DeAngelis: Happy Valentine's Day, my Saints and to my beloved Anthony! Renaissance is out online and in stores today! This is my gift to you, and myself - HCM 🖤💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Veronica_DeAngelis:

liked by: titobeauvi91, barzal97, islandrecords, and 3 million others.

Veronica_DeAngelis: Renaissance is finally here, both musically and emotionally. Been a rough few months for me, but Anthony has healed the scars I never knew I had. Your Raven Queen has exchanged her gold for steel, and she's finally landed! - HCM 🖤

replies:

LoveV10: OMG, it's real? The Discord has been like a conspiracy board meeting! Renaissance is our new era!

Saint4Life: Can't wait to cry to this nonstop!

titobeauvi91: I love you, Vero.

Veronica_DeAngelis: I love you too, Tito. I'm in safer arms because of you. This is our album.

VegasLights: What about Ben, tho? I mean Vero/Tito is great, and they seem so happy together so far, but...

Veronica_DeAngelis: Just... listen to the album, and you'll figure it out. - HCM.

tjarry35: Crying in the gym again, Vero.

V10Grammy2k25: My username might just come true! Also, HCM = Her Corvid Majesty, right? The Discord were wondering.

Veronica_DeAngelis: Yes, it does! All is in the album, don't worry.

EphemeralSaint: So, whose idea was the puzzle? And all the Raven Queen stuff?

Veronica_DeAngelis: The game was my boyfriend's idea, the character is me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 30th 2025

Gillette Stadium looks amazing all set up for her concert tonight, the first of The Renaissance Tour, she always starts her tours in Boston, her home that birthed her. This is the first of two nights she'll be doing here before heading to New York. She wanted to scale this one up, TD Garden is her usual stop, but, she's graduating now. Anthony will be watching her tonight, with some of their family and friends. She got done with sound check this morning, and has been on the go ever since. But, she's never felt more alive. Her hair is straightened, her makeup is a smokey eye with red lips. Veronica dresses into her short black dress with raven feathers on it, and her black boots. Bianca helps her with the black over-skirt and the feathers for her hair. Veronica is given her microphone, and led under the stage to her throne where she'll sing How You Like It from. Once upon a time, she'd get so nervous for her shows, but not anymore. Yes, her heart is pounding, but it's for the good reason now. The opening cinematic plays, and she rises through the floor to begin singing. The first song is done in under two minutes. Veronica stands from her throne, and says to her cheering fans. ''Good evening, and welcome to The Renaissance Tour!'' She begins Your Worst Nightmare on her feet, feeling a million bucks.

A Thousand Cuts and Ballad of A Secret get wonderful receptions from the audience. She ditches the over-skirt for the rest of the new songs. After Here's My Hell, she downs her guitar, and says. ''Alright, now we're settled in, this one is the song I never expected to get as big as it has.'' The crowd erupts into applause, she laughs. ''It seems you're ahead of me here.'' Veronica sits down at her piano, and plays the opening notes of the song that created this character for her. Murder, Unkindness, Conspiracy is turning into her favourite song she's ever written. She comes to the end of the bridge, ''I was never your princess, but I've made myself a queen. And, my new flock are all flightless.'' She finds Anthony and the boys in the crowd, and winks at him before singing the outro. ''There's nowhere you can hide, nothing you can do. This is for the abuse you put me through. The murder, unkindness, conspiracy. You'll never hear the last from me.''

Veronica sings through the remaining new songs, coming down from her riser after Diamonds For Pebbles. She makes her way back to her throne while singing The Alchemist, ending the song seated. ''When you wake up, I'll be gone. Don't come knocking at the crack of dawn. I've taken flight, plundered the kingdom's gold. Took it to my Alchemist, he turned it to steel. Maybe now you'll see that I'll never kneel.'' She descends back under the stage for a quick costume change into her white dove dress for her Liberation songs. The feathers are removed from her hair, and she slips into silver heels. And, she's singing Ephemeral within two minutes.

Veronica only just makes it through My Very Own Orpheus, but the crowd help her with that one. ''Thank you so much for that, that one never gets easier.'' Even while she was with Ben, that one hurt to sing live.

The Liberation act of the concert goes over as well as it always does, she even has chosen to debut Permission To Feel tonight, a deep cut from the album that never saw air on her last tour. Then, it's into her red and pink jeweled bodysuit, boots, and robe for her Unspoken songs, all three of them. She never got to tour this album, so promoted it and Liberation as twins. The title track, Unspoken, goes over like a charm. ''Three in the morning, and I'm lying beside you awake. Wondering if this whole thing has been a mistake. You promised it would be fine, we'd just never cross the line. I have people to meet soon, but all I can hear as I look at the moon. Is this unspoken feeling of doom.'' She powers through the chorus, venting her four years of pent up anger. Even with Anthony in the house, Ben still hurt her.

Golden Days brings the light back into the show, a song about her nostalgia for her childhood here in Boston. Liminal Spaces caps off this act, then, it's back under the stage for her final costume change. Into a sky blue jeweled dress and wedges. She begins the Voyages act with Moments. The crowd in the palm of her hand, as they are for Without This, and Half of My Heart. ''There's one song from Renaissance I missed, I wanted to save it for last. So, do you wanna hear it, Boston?'' The crowd erupts as she sits at her piano. Veronica chuckles, and says. ''Thought so, here's In Safer Arms. Something nice to send you wonderful people home with.'' The final song of the night goes over incredibly well, Veronica coming to the final passage in time. ''Don't come looking, because I'm not there. But, you'll always hear my song in the air. Reborn, remade, resurrected. Life never goes the way we expected. This raven is free now, her love is flightless. For the first time in my life, I live doubtless.''

After the show, she embraces Anthony, exhausted in all the best ways. Desperate for something to eat and some sleep. ''You were fantastic up there, mon etoile.'' He kisses her cheek. Veronica says, her voice hushed with fatigue. ''Grazie mille, cuore mio.'' She always defaults to Italian when tired.

They retreat to her room backstage, Veronica showers, and throws something more comfortable on. Teardown will come after her second show in a couple of days. Veronica grabs herself something to eat, and relaxes in Anthony's arms while her legs stop buzzing. New York next, then it's home to Pittsburgh for the third show. She's never felt more complete in her life, Ben might have hurt her, but he'd never break her. She doesn't go down that easy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Been working on this one for about a week and a half now (maybe more than that, I honestly can't remember anymore) this is my first hockey fic not containing an active Canuck! So, it's a bit of a milestone that way! This may or may not become a thing, but I don't know right now.

Enjoy!

[lemonflowercat]

it's complicated: ch.01

i got stuck in freeze mode today, and i think it's because yesterday was a "fail day". i don't think i know very well how to regulate emotions that are associated with failure. anyway, although i did none of the things on my 75 soft list, i did get other things done - meal prep, laundry, some chores. i also watched a decent movie. ate 2 decent meals and then, a fight with A + luteal phase exhaustion made me cave into fast food. the highlight of my day was, while waiting at the ENT for A, this lady who was there to get her daughter checked, turned to me and handed me her business card. she kindly informed me that she was a health and fitness coach who has a big group of women she conducts "online fitness classes" for on Zoom, and said i should definitely join because, i quote, "you will look beautiful if you lose weight." it was kinda sad but mostly funny. i couldn't even be angry because i feel like we're from different generations and different worlds altogether, i just felt sorry for her and all the women in her class for believing that their beauty/worth was tied to a number on a scale. --- which is still something i find myself believing in on my lowest days. <sigh>

on a tangent,

i've started this new thing of noting what triggers the i'm-not-in-control-around-food feelings and it's interesting. so far i've noted

sleep deprivation

restless but not doing anything (doomscrolling doesn't count as doing something), typically on PMS and freeze mode days

strong sadness or frustration

anger directed at myself

feeling like a failure

when relaxation kicks in after something exhausting

not eating enough filling stuff through the day

waking up from an afternoon nap after a small lunch

eating out

having foods that i like but typically come under "bad" around the house

for sure these are pretty run of the mill reasons, and you'd think i'd have been aware of them already - but i wasn't! actually noting down these triggers has made me realise that a good chunk of them are practical problems - which makes me feel like less of a crazy person. for instance,

sleep deprivation

not eating enough filling stuff through the day

waking up from an afternoon nap after a small lunch

some of them are emotional, and i think this comes from the unhealthy ways i learnt to regulate my emotions through childhood.

restless but not doing anything (doomscrolling doesn't count as doing something), typically on PMS and freeze mode days

strong sadness or frustration

anger directed at myself

feeling like a failure

when relaxation kicks in after something exhausting

and then there are some things that are a reflection of the way my parents have been about food

eating out

having foods that i like but typically come under "bad" around the house

noting down all of this makes it easier for me to find solutions - especially the practical reasons that drive my binge sessions. i can also empathize with myself now! - i can finally turn off that mean voice in my head that berates me and my "fat girl" food choices. kinda also makes me feel less like a victim, and more of just a person to whom life's happening, y'know?

next steps from here will be 1. continue noting triggers 2. work out solutions for the ones identified

step 2 is easy for the practical ones.

sleep deprivation: a. of course, try not to miss out on sleep too often in a week. like once a week should be good. b. if i haven't slept too late (like say before 2 am), wake up at 8 am latest because then my cycle doesn't get too fucked up, my brain isn't as groggy, and my day still feels almost normal. b. often i'm too exhausted to cook so maybe have easy filling meal ideas at hand? c. it's cool to just eat whatever i want anyway

not eating enough filling stuff through the day a. again something that only happens if i'm too exhausted to cook, so having easy filling meal ideas at hand is the way to go. b. literally, just order in something nice and filling and wholesome if i can't cook - i deserve it

waking up from an afternoon nap after a small lunch eat a fruit or a toast with something, can swap out afternoon tea for a no-milk one to maintain calorie count.

problem solving for the other categories are just...well, things i'm still learning about myself and reading about. there's lots of figuring out wise-lemonflowercat is still working her way through. two things that i might have something for though:

restless but not doing anything (doomscrolling doesn't count as doing something), typically on PMS and freeze-mode days now this one -is a hard one. and i have big days of this coming up since i've hit PMS season. here's a rule i'm making for myself this PMS season, and i'm hoping to stick with this whenever i go into freeze modes: no media consumption when PMSing/freeze mode-ing. i don't want to call this a "rule", it's more of advice wise-lemonflowercat has for everyday-lemonflowercat: media consumption/hanging out on the internet is a slippery slope for me when vulnerable (PMS, freeze mode), because i get too easily sucked into doomscrolling or binge watching - both of which leave me feeling drained, my brain feels disgusting and body feels like a potato. so i actively want to make sure to either read or self-express (write, make art) instead. one movie/day - preferrable in the night - is a-ok.

feeling like a failure - have multiple restart points through the day. the "failure-feeling" or "i'm-a-loser-feeling" is one that often greets me on 1. the morning after a typical "fail day" 2. as the day progresses and things don't go as planned 3. when i get stuck in freeze mode i'm in the process of getting better at self-talking myself through the morning ones, and by far it's the easiest because it's still the start of a new day. but the other 2 have been where i crash and burn, often zombie-ing through the day, waiting for it to be night time just so it can be morning - the only time my brain considers appropriate for a fresh start. i want to give myself more "fresh start" points through the day. it's going to look something like x -> fresh start, where x is an activity that really clears my mind. ideal times are, 1. around 11 am 2. around 4-4.30 pm and 'x' can be, 1. MOVEMENT like i am still always surprised at how it can really flip my mood around! cardio works best - walks, runs, or even just a 20min session of HIIT. sometimes these require more motivation than i have at hand, and i find yoga, pilates easier to do. but every . time. i finish a sesh and i feel like a brand new person again. 2. meditate+breathwork is a bit of a hit and miss. it has worked more times than not though, especially when coupled with 3. a good long shower. with scented candles, peppy music, maybe a pre-shower face/hair mask, moisturising after - basically, just really showering love on my body. 4. a science-y podcast: this works for me because i'm such a nerd, ig. i love weird facts, discussions really get my brain going and just listening to all the amazing things people are doing out there is a real motivator for me to get on and do my shit too! 5. journalling 6. watching "productivity guru" videos ahahaha, no but like really. i have a few go to people, and i just turn on the video in the background and it's like someone is giving me the talk i needed to hear. also a hit miss - honestly, a miss more often, because it's easy to get sucked into doomscrolling from here. i think this whole strategy works great to combat that all-or-nothing mindset of needing a day to be perfect top to bottom. it's really sad the amount of grief i give myself over a couple of wasted hours, and i really do hope i'm able to teach myself to turn a day around at any point.

i wonder if there are people to whom all of this seems blatantly obvious. i guess i'm just not a person these things come naturally to, and i have to actually teach myself to be this way. i think this is what self-love and self-parenting are about, really.

[wildestdreamsblog]

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Proof of concept for “aang and katara should’ve had 6 kids”:

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Avatar Aang and Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe settled in Republic City on the cusp of their eldest son’s thirteenth birthday. By then they had three children, and another on the way. Sila was born in the wintertime, with the dark complexion of his mother and the brown eyes of his father. As his sister before him, he resembled their mother in more than looks alone: he too was a waterbender, always chasing behind Kya, trying to keep up.

Over the next few years they established Air Temple Island permanently, inviting Air Acolytes to join them and practice the traditions of the Air Nomads. They were perfectly happy with four children, who went to school with the other children of the acolytes, or occasionally went into the city for special classes. And then, three years later, Katara realized she had missed her moon cycle: and nine months later, she gave birth to twins.

In the Southern Water Tribe twins weren’t uncommon, but they were held with a special kind of regard. Sun and moon; water and sky; night and day. A baby girl and a baby boy: Yishi and Yonten. Yonten was the youngest by mere minutes, and unlike his airbending sister, he was a nonbender. Bumi, by then sixteen and busy looking after his family, was delighted to finally have another nonbending sibling. He cradled Yonten in his arms, cooing at him, poking him on the squashed nose.

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Yishi had been gone for almost three years now. Once she received her airbending tattoos, she kissed her mother and father and hugged her twin brother, and then she took her air bison and left to live the truly nomadic life. Kya had done similarly, but returned every few months or so, writing constant letters. They practically heard nothing from Yishi; occasionally a traveler would appear at the docks of Air Temple Island to relay a message from the Avatar’s daughter, whom they had encountered in the wild plains of the Earth Kingdom or the southern Fire Nation archipelago, or once, in the mountains near the Eastern Air Temple.

Then, in the dead of night, an air bison landed silently in the courtyard of their home. Bumi and Sila were both gone, Bumi with the United Republic special forces and Sila in the Southern Water Tribe, where he taught waterbending. Knowing her parents were lonely with half of their children absent, Kya had come home to spend time with them. She watched out her window as the bison landed, and then a figure she knew to be her sister slipped off of its back and into the home.

In the morning, Kya joined Tenzin and Yonten in meditation with their father as the sun rose, as they usually did. She loved the silence and focus of meditation, found it calmed all the constant storm inside of her, the fear, the shame, the embarrassment she felt at not being the daughter her parents wanted, even though her father constantly told her that it wasn’t true: she was perfect to him. Though Tenzin claimed to meditate for hours nightly, he frequently started to fidget after a while. This was better than Yonten, who usually fell asleep.

When they were done, Kya stretched her arms and legs, sore from waterbending practice after seeing some new techniques in the underground pro-bending tournaments in the city. As Tenzin lectured a yawning Yonten, she went inside with her father, finding her mother slicing fruit for breakfast.

Kya dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Do you need help with that?” she asked, but it was perfunctory. Katara was almost done. Sitting down at the table, she added casually: “Yishi’s back.”

“Really?” asked Aang, looking around at her from his place beside Katara. “You saw her?”

“She got in late last night, she’s probably still asleep. You want me to go wake her up?”

“Let her sleep,” said Katara, as Aang retrieved yogurt to accompany the fruit. “She’ll need the rest before we get up and all mob her at once.”

Kya grinned. Tenzin and Yonten made their way inside and Aang began to serve them bowls of fruit and yogurt before they all heard a creaking on the floorboards outside the kitchen. At Tenzin’s expression she nudged him and said, “Yishi got here last night,” and Yonten’s face lit up in delight. Then Yishi rounded the threshold, and Yonten’s face lit up again, but this time in shock.

“Hi,” said Yishi, with a sheepish grin. She placed one hand on her swollen stomach, leaning against the doorframe. “Uhh…surprise!”

Aang, Katara, Kya, Tenzin, and Yonten all stared at her obviously pregnant belly, wide-eyed. “What?” asked Katara, dumbly. “Yishi…” she abandoned the fruit and went to her daughter, holding her by her elbows. “How did…this happen?”

“Well, Mom,” said Yishi matter-of-factly, “I’m pretty sure you know how it happens, actually.”

“But - you never mentioned - who’s the…” she trailed off, then asked, “Did you bring someone home with you?”

“Nope,” answered Yishi, patting her stomach. “Just this kid. No husband,” she continued, “no boyfriend, no nothing. Just a night full of dancing a little ways outside of Ba Sing Se. Hi, Daddy,” she said, as Aang appeared on her other side and automatically gave her a hug.

“Congratulations,” he said, a little stunned. “You could’ve sent a letter, you know. But, still, congratulations.”

“Sweetheart,” said Katara, still trying to process this. “If you - you could’ve come home earlier, it would’ve been fine. We could’ve figured this out, together.”

“I didn’t need to figure it out, it was on purpose, Mom. Really,” she insisted, with a laugh. “I’d been thinking about it for a while, and I just decided to - go for it.”

Yonten got to his feet, greeting his sister with a hug. “Wow,” he said, and he sounded impressed rather than simply shocked. “Good for you. Outside Ba Sing Se, huh? Does that mean we might get a little earthbender running around?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Yishi replied, smoothly.

As they settled around the breakfast table - Kya said very little, knowing that if she opened her mouth then an argument would come out of it and she didn’t want that, whereas Tenzin was in pure shock, gaping at his sister in disbelief - Yishi explained. “Dad,” she said, “Air Nomads didn’t have any formal marriage practices, did they? And children were raised communally, all as brothers and sisters, without specific families. I’m just thinking, if I am committed to a true Air Nomad life then I’m living without earthly attachments. Except for this family,” she added, glancing at her siblings on either side of her.

She reached out and took Kya’s hand, maybe sensing the disapproval there. “We are the last of the Air Nomads. All of us. And so I was just thinking - I want my children to be raised like their ancestors were. I don’t need a husband for that. I just need all of you.”

“Hold on,” said Tenzin, a deep crease on his brow. “So you come back after being gone for three years just to tell us that we’re all responsible for the baby you’re about to have?”

“She’s right,” said Aang, before Yishi responded. “The Air Nomad tradition is to raise children communally.”

Kya did not pull her hand away from her sister, but protested, “I already raised four younger siblings, I didn’t ask to be a ‘communal’ mom a second time-”

Yishi said, “That’s not what I’m asking!”

“Sweetheart,” said Katara, reaching out across the table to place her hand on top of Yishi’s and Kya’s. “That does sound like what you’re asking. Help us out here.”

It seemed Aang wanted to respond, but when Yishi caught his eye he gestured to her, allowing her to speak. “I’m not asking anyone to be my child’s parent,” she continued, taking her hand away from her mother and sister and holding her stomach protectively. “I’m just saying that it’s important to me to have children - to make sure our legacy continues - and I want to do it in a way that honors our heritage. My child will be raised with the rest of the children here on the island, and will be family to all of them. Everyone. That doesn’t make it your responsibility and not mine, Kya; all I’m asking is for you to love my baby the same way you love me.”

There was a beat of silence between the six of them, and then Kya let out a loud sigh, and she embraced her sister in a hug. “Fine,” she said. “Twist my arm, why don’t you. I guess I’ll love your baby. I’ll do my best, anyway.”

Yonten laughed, and Aang smiled, watching his daughters. Tenzin said, “I still don’t like this,” but then asked, “Have you thought about names?” and that really got discussion going.

When Katara wrote to her absent sons, Sila arrived a few weeks later. By then Yishi’s daughter had been born, and he shouted with surprise and delight when he disembarked the ship, scooping the baby into his arms and nuzzling into her little face. “Waterbender,” he said sagely, “I’m calling it.”

This was wishful thinking: it was only a few days later that her baby’s sneeze lifted Yishi into the air, and they realized that the population of airbenders in the world had increased by one. On Air Temple Island they threw a party, and then they threw another one when Bumi finally got leave from the United Republic forces two months later, and all the siblings were reunited. When he arrived, he plucked his sister bodily into the air and spun her around. “Congratulations!” he kept repeating. “Yishi! You should’ve told us! I would’ve liked to meet the guy at least!”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Bumi,” she giggled, as Aang and Katara fawned over their first granddaughter. She leaned over and, into his ear, she admitted, “I didn’t even know his name!”

They roared with laughter. Toph had come for this party: she rarely left the community she was building in Zaofu, but she had been so utterly thrilled when she heard about Yishi and the baby that she’d come right away. Sitting next to Lin, who was pointedly avoiding Tenzin’s gaze, she clapped Katara on the back and guffawed. “This is too good,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You judged me so hard for what I did, and now your daughter turns around and does the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Katara said, stubbornly. “Toph, you held a tournament for the best earthbender.”

“Yeah,” Toph agreed, leaning back with her hands behind her head. “But I also didn’t know his name.”

She laughed, and winked in the general direction of Yishi, who unfortunately was not looking.

When Dolma, Yishi’s daughter, was about three years old, Yishi tucked her into bed and then was gone in the morning, leaving a note in her twin brother’s room explaining where she was going and why. As she had requested, he did not tell his parents about the note, but when Tenzin was so worked up that he was actually spitting with fury Yonten finally gave in, showing him what Yishi had said. “That doesn’t make it better!” Tenzin insisted, but he at least relaxed a little bit.

In the meantime, the two of them spent all their time with Dolma. They talked with her, they took her on walks, painted with her, cooked with her, and Tenzin even took her through some very basic airbending. Watching their son and first grandchild together, Katara leaned against Aang. “He’s going to be a wonderful father,” she said.

“He is,” agreed Aang. “But it’s not going to be with Lin.”

At this point, everyone seemed to know that except for Tenzin. Aang had tried having a gentle conversation with him about it, reminding him that he needed to talk to Lin about this and if he didn’t like her answer, it wasn’t his job to get her to change it. But Tenzin always shrugged this off, assuring his father he’d talk to her eventually.

Yishi returned within a year, tossing her daughter high into the air with her bending when she made it back. Before she’d hardly spoken to the rest of her family she collected Dolma onto the back of her sky bison and they took a long flight around Republic City, circling Air Temple Island. It was more than an hour before she returned with the setting of the sun, Dolma asleep in her arms.

“Five months,” she answered, when her mother asked about the slight but noticeable thickening around her waist. “I wanted to make sure it would take before I came back, in case I had to keep trying.”

“You know,” said Katara, “you could probably do this same thing, just within the city so you don’t have to be gone so long.”

She smiled at her mother as Aang shaved her forehead: she had grown out her bangs to hide the tip of her arrow. “Everyone in the city knows who I am, Mom. And besides, that’s only a few miles away from our doorstep. Not very nomadic.”

Yishi’s second daughter was born a few months after the family’s first wedding. Sila married a waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe, a woman Katara and Aang had only met a few times. Sokka knew her well: she was a few years older than Sila and on the tribal council, where she was infamous for her temper when it came to trade and integration with the Northern Water Tribe. Sila even requested that his parents not invite Fire Lord Zuko, because he did not want to invite the Northern Chief and thought it might be a faux-pas to invite one head of state and not the other. In the end Princess Izumi came in his stead, grabbing Sila under one arm and giving him a noogie in front of his betrothed.

Dolma slept in Yishi’s arms through the whole ceremony. Yang - named, of course, for Avatar Yangchen - was born in the middle of the night, after half a day of laboring. Katara was by her daughter’s side, and was the first to hold her new granddaughter. “Hello, little one,” she whispered. “Welcome to the world.”

The next year, Sila and his wife Uki traveled to Republic City. It was only the second time Uki had ever left the South Pole, and the whole time she was homesick, looking up at the bright blue sky hoping for snow. It was nighttime, after dinner, and Katara had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders when she and Sila told her and Aang that their first child would be born in the spring. They were ecstatic, hugging them both tightly. Katara held onto her boy and told him how proud she was of him.

“I didn’t get that,” said Yishi, sounding jaded as she and Bumi sat in the kitchen, peering down at their brother and his wife in the courtyard. Bumi sipped his tea as Yishi nursed Yang.

“Well,” he said, fairly. “You were nineteen and, importantly, not married.”

“I was twenty,” she said. “That’s how old Mom was when you were born.”

“Sure, but she was married to Dad.”

“I told you, Boom, there are no marriage customs in Air Nomad culture. They probably just told Granddad they secretly got married so he wouldn’t be mad.”

“I mean, Dad was there,” Bumi ceded. “Present. You know, a part of his kid’s life.”

Yishi was silent for a moment, her lips pursed. Then she said: “Lin’s dad isn’t in her life, and look how she turned out.”

“Uh-huh. Look at Suyin.”

“Suyin,” said Yishi, “is doing great, by the way. She’s practically running Zaofu now, and she just got engaged.”

“I bet Auntie Toph hates that.” Yishi grinned at her brother, and he grinned back at her. “Listen,” he said, going to sit down across from her. “Mom and Dad just want us to be happy, really. They were worried about you when you got back the first time. You know, what if it was a mistake and she was too scared to admit it, what if something bad happened, what if she struggles. There was a whole lot they didn’t know. And,” he added, pointedly, “you proved they had nothing to worry about. But Sila’s always been the responsible one, so they’re not worried about him.”

“I’m responsible,” muttered Yishi, swiping her fingers across her baby’s cheek.

“You are,” agreed Bumi. “But you’re no Sila. You’re no Tenzin. And that’s a good thing, because if you were we wouldn’t get along the way we do.”

“But he’s leaving,” she added, looking up at her brother. “He and Uki are going back to the South Pole. Who’s going to help raise the kids?”

With a shrug, Bumi replied, “Uncle Sokka and Auntie Suki, I guess. Granddad, maybe Uki’s family. But probably it’s going to be mostly the two of them, Yi. That’s normally how families work.”

“Not for us,” she countered.

“Not for you.”

“I mean Air Nomads.”

“Sila is second-in-line for Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, Yishi, everyone knows Uncle Sokka is grooming him to be his replacement. Does that sound very Air Nomad to you?”

“That’s not fair,” she protested. At her breast, Yang unlatched, making bubbling, cooing noises, and without hesitating she wiped her baby’s mouth and covered herself. “We’re not one or the other, we’re both. A mixture of cultures, Air Nomad and Water Tribe.”

“Exactly,” agreed Bumi. “So it makes sense that you’re doing it the Air Nomad way, and he’s doing it the Water Tribe way. That’s how this works. You and him come from the same place, but you’re different people. You get to make your own decisions.”

Yishi patted her baby’s back for a while, her lips pursed. Yang twisted around in her arms, reaching her pudgy little arms out when she spotted her uncle across the table from her. Yishi asked, “So what tradition are you following, Boom? Bachelor bending?”

He laughed. “Hey, some of the old monks were celibate, weren’t they?”

Baby Yang strained towards him desperately. “Oh, please. You may not have any kids, but everybody knows you get around.”

Grinning at his sister, he held out his arms across the table. “Just give me the baby and shut up.”

It was like clockwork: when Yang was three years old, Yishi left once more. This time she did not leave a letter, sensing that Yonten was troubled by something, unable to fully focus on the family.

With his twin sister gone, Yonten finally managed to work up the courage to talk to his father alone.

“So,” he finished, feeling exhausted and embarrassed to admit this, afraid of what his father might say, “I just…have thought about this a lot, and Salila and I have talked a lot about it, and - she’s not an acolyte, Dad, she never has been. She doesn’t have it in her and she doesn’t want that. And if that’s not - if we’re not allowed to - if the only way she’s permitted to live on this island is if she converts to our lifestyle, I’m not ready to ask her to do that. So. With your permission, I want to go into the city, and live with her there.”

Aang looked at his youngest son, confused. “Salila doesn’t have to convert to anything,” he told Yonten. “I mean, of course you can live in the city if you’d like to. It’s not like your mom or I ever asked Sila or Kya to stay.”

“Kya is living the true nomadic lifestyle,” Yonten pointed out. “And Sila - he’s more Water Tribe than Air Nomad.”

“He is exactly the same amount of Water Tribe as you are,” Aang said. “But anyway, that’s not what matters. Yonten, if you really love Salila and you want to be with her, there’s no requirement that says she has to join the Air Acolytes just to do that. She’s welcome here if she wants to come but she doesn’t have to change her entire lifestyle for that. She can keep being exactly the person she is, just here instead of there.”

Yonten’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, hesitantly. “What if… well, she doesn’t like the robes, Dad, she prefers pants-”

“Oh, no,” sighed Aang. He reached out to put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you’ve putting off asking your girlfriend to marry you because you were afraid I wouldn’t approve of the fact that she wears pants and eats meat.”

Yonten turned red in the face, and Aang couldn’t help but laugh. He managed to delay the wedding until Yishi returned, confiding in him that she didn’t actually know if she was pregnant again but was very optimistic - “I had to shorten my schedule when I heard about you and Lila!” - but eventually he married his fiancee in an outdoor wedding in Republic City Park. This time Fire Lord Zuko was invited, and Sila apologized profusely to him for the snub at his own wedding. Zuko didn’t seem to mind. He just leaned over to the two-year-old dressed in his Southern Water Tribe best and asked, “And who’s this?”

Kota was very polite and managed to babble something half coherent. Iroh, Zuko’s grandson, took to Kota with great gusto: Dolma and Yang were fine, but Kota was the only other boy in his generation so far. He took it upon himself to show him the ropes.

When the Fire Nation envoy left, taking Iroh with them, Kota wailed for three hours before finally tiring himself out and falling asleep.

Aang and Katara stayed awake until the house was silent. Everyone was home: Bumi, Kya, Tenzin, Sila, Yishi and Yonten; Sila’s wife Uki, Yonten’s new bride Salila, whom of course Aang and Katara knew very well, after a decade together with their youngest son. Dolma, five years old and already so smart, so observant, who had been so patiently waiting for her mother’s return. Yang, too young to remember her mother’s absence. Kota, who reminded Katara often of her father, the same sharp chin and narrow eyes. And a new baby growing in Yishi’s belly, waiting to be born.

After Yishi’s third baby was born - another daughter, whom she named Sunma but immediately started to call Sunny - Aang and Katara received a letter from their son requesting their urgent presence in the Southern Water Tribe.

Uki had been pregnant a second time. But it had been a difficult and perilous pregnancy, and Sila had asked his uncle not to mention it to Katara until they were certain they wouldn’t lose the baby. This certainty somehow never came, not even until the birth, which took two days. The infant was born quiet, barely breathing. Sila had been in a pool of water attempting to heal her for a week by the time his parents arrived. Katara climbed into the pool with him, holding his tiny newborn daughter, and she held her son as he cried.

The baby survived. They had not named her for fear that she would not live through her first month, but afterwards Sila asked permission from his parents and his uncle to name her after another girl he’d heard stories about. A beautiful, brave girl who had also been born quiet and still, and whose power he drew strength from every night.

“Hello, Yue,” whispered Kya, the first of Sila’s siblings to visit. She tickled at the baby’s tummy. “Hello, you tiny little thing. She’s beautiful,” she told her brother. “Takes after her mother, I guess,” she added, with a grin.

She stayed longer than she meant to. Certainly longer than she tended to stay at home on Air Temple Island, with Dolma and Yang and now baby Sunny. It was easier here in the Southern Water Tribe, where there was no expectation that she help raise her sibling’s children, where she could simply be the fun aunt who comes and goes as she pleases.

And of course there was the other thing, about which she knew her Uncle Sokka wanted her to tell him about but which he refused to bring up on his own, in case she wasn’t comfortable talking about it. She had been staying in the home of a woman she’d known for a very long time, whom she’d come to and gone from over the years, warming her bed before disappearing for a while. Kya did not want to be tied down: she did not want to have a family, not like either Yishi nor Sila had done. But she loved that woman. Each time, it got harder and harder to leave.

In the next few years, it was obvious to all of them how Aang suddenly began to slow down, his age taking a toll on him. He walked with a cane now, and his breath sometimes came ragged. By the time Yonten and Salila were expecting their first child, Aang was bedridden. All his children came to Air Temple Island with their families, to be by his side.

Avatar Aang died in his sleep, with his family at his side. A month later, Salila gave birth to twins. She and Yonten named the girl Ami, and they named the boy Aang.

Afterwards, Katara went to the South Pole with Sila and his family. Kya put down her traveling and joined them, living in her mother’s house, helping her complete the rituals which would locate the next Avatar. Tenzin and Yonten took over as spiritual leaders of Air Temple Island.

When they could not find Yishi, they at first thought she had disappeared once more. But then Tenzin spotted something unusual on the shoulder of the statue of their father, and a few airbending moves later he found Yishi there, leaning against the cold stone of the statue. Her eyes were red.

Tenzin sat with her while she cried into his shoulder for a while. Then they started talking, sharing stories about their father, laughing about him. Wondering if he was proud of them.

“He was,” Yishi told her brother, gently. “You know he was, Tenzin.”

When they talked about how their father had missed the birth of two more grandchildren by mere weeks, they both cried for a little bit. “I should be telling Yonten this, not you,” Tenzin said, and they both laughed wetly.

“At least he met most of them,” said Yishi, her arm tucked around her brother’s. “Dolma and Yang and Kota and Sunny and Yue. And you know he’s still with us. Still watching us. He’ll be with them every single day, I know that. Love is a form of energy. You know what he used to say. It swirls all around us.”

He thought about that conversation frequently afterwards, as he focused on his duties. Yonten faded into the background, happy to do whatever Tenzin needed done to keep things working smoothly. Everyone doted on little baby Aang, so much so that Salila snapped at the latest batch of admiring acolytes. “He’s just a baby!” she told them. “It’s just a name! If you want to find the Avatar, go to the Water Tribes!”

Someone pointed out that it wasn’t impossible that baby Aang was in fact a waterbender, so could therefore be the new Avatar - his grandmother was Master Katara, it could happen. Salila hissed out loud at them, and when they scattered, she hollered at them, “And if you’re going to fawn over him, show his sister some love too!”

As it turned out, baby Aang was not a bender at all. His sister Ami was an airbender. That seemed to trouble Tenzin somehow, unable to feel the joy that the others felt at such a miracle.

That night, he told Lin his ultimatum. He could not stay with someone who wasn’t willing to give him children.

Her eyes bugged nearly out of her head, a vein jumping in her forehead. “Willing?” she echoed, furious. “Give you?”

When she was done with it, Air Temple Island looked like it had just seen a particularly bad set of earthquakes. Yishi had been hooting and cheering the whole time, her girls laughing and following suit. Salila went into the city and recruited some earthbender construction workers to fix the damage. They were clearly impressed.

Yishi was teaching a group of women about the sex-specific traditions of the Air Nomads, her daughters in tow. Sunny was still young enough that she mostly played in the corner with her sisters as Yishi worked; once the class was finished, Yishi’s star student stayed behind to help clean up and play with the children. “I love kids,” she sighed. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”

Tenzin poked his head into the room. “Yishi, are you done here? I’m holding an advanced meditation class and I need the space.”

“I’m done,” said Yishi, scooping Sunny up in her arms. “Go on, girls.” Both Dolma and Yang slipped out of the room, giggling. Yishi’s student got to her feet. “Oh,” said Yishi. “I don’t know if you’ve been formally introduced yet. Tenzin, this is Pema. Pema, this is my brother Tenzin.”

Pema smiled shyly, and bowed at him. “It’s an honor to meet you, Tenzin.”

Ok so Bumi, Kya, Tenzin. Then I would add two more kids and I am going to pull Yeshe and Sila from Tibetan and inupiat cultures respectively. Bumi, Kya, Tenzin, Sila, and then maybe fraternal twins Yeshe and Yonten. Yeshe (girl) is an airbender but Yonten (boy) is not a bender. I can’t decide if Sila (another boy) is a bender or not. My gut says not a bender at all, but that puts aang and katara at a 50/50 bender/nonbender rate. Making him a waterbender feels like a cop out for some reason but actually that may be the best option. Yeah Bumi and Yonten can be oldest/youngest and also nonbenders, kya and sila are waterbenders, tenzin and Yeshe are airbenders. I don’t love how neatly that works out to 2/2/2 but it mimics the 3 different siblings in canon so I guess it works.

Bumi (katara 21)

Kya (katara 28) (Bumi 7)

Tenzin (katara 32) (Bumi 11, Kya 4)

Sila (katara 34) (Bumi 13, Kya 6, tenzin 2)

Yeshe & yonten (katara 37) (Bumi 16, kya 9, tenzin 5, Sila 3)

Yeshe is much more free-spirited and go with the flow than tenzin, and doesn’t like the idea of settling down and having a family, tho she does want kids to help revive the Air Nomads. She maybe argues with her family a little about making that happen her way but takes a lot of comfort and inspiration from Toph, who also started a family on her own terms. Yonten is pretty spiritual and actually can access the Spirit World better than any of his siblings, I’m thinking some Kelsang energy from him. He def has a family on Air Temple Island.

Sila is just a classic Water Tribe dreamboat. He’s more interested in Water Tribe politics and spends a lot of time with Kanna, Hakoda, and Sokka, maybe even interested in the role of chief. Katara is worried about him being away from her for so long and getting involved in politics when he’s, yknow, the avatar’s son, but sokka points out that the SWT wanted katara as their chief back in the day so there’s precedent.

When Aang died it was Sila who stayed with Katara, not Kya - mostly because he was already there. Yeshe & Yonten also stayed for a while (Yeshe was in and out but Yonten brought his family down so was there a year or so), trying to convince Katara to come live on Air Temple Island, but then Korra gets found as the new avatar and Katara dedicated herself to teaching her. I like to think Sila was Korra’s actual waterbending teacher and Katara sort of observed them both.

Yeshe’s kids (let’s say 3 of em) are raised the traditional Air Nomad way, collectively, which she CONSTANTLY gets into fights about with Tenzin, Kya, and Sila, who think she’s not being responsible enough as their mother. Bumi is the one who usually defends her because he’s closest to the twins since Yonten is the only other nonbender. Kya in particular gets mad because she’s like you CANNOT dump your kids on me I love them but I chose not to become a mother for a reason and Yeshe’s like exactly you’re not a mom so you have the time to help me out and Kya full on blows up at her and peace’s out for like a year after that.

Yonten is the most easygoing in that Aang-like way of sort of being passive and not getting mad at things even when someone is antagonizing him and all of his siblings except for Bumi absolutely, absolutely fucking hate it. It doesn’t help that he’s the youngest lmao

Uh oh I have just fallen in love with these OCs I just now created this was a mistake

[jaeyunverse]

yang jungwon as your roommate

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

genres: lots of fluff, crack, miiiiinor angst you won’t even see it unless you use a microscope, some hurt/comfort

warnings: mentions of nightmares (??) i think that’s all tbh this is very light-hearted but lmk if you think i missed a warning and want me to add it!

summary: in which you’re lucky enough to live with yang jungwon a.k.a the best roommate in the world.

note: i hope everyone enjoys this :)) do lmk what you think <3

masterlist

01. lets you sleep in his bed whenever you’re having nightmares

you’re prone to waking up in cold sweat every once in a while. it sucks, but jungwon always pulls through. your roommate doesn’t show any annoyance when you knock on his door in the middle of the night with a pillow tucked under your arm. all he does is grab you by the wrist gently and pull you into a comforting hug. he reminds you that he’s there for you and you’re not alone. once you’ve calmed down, he leads you to his bed and tucks you in. during the rare times when you’re too shaken up, he holds your hand till you go back to sleep. you feel terrible for being such an inconvenience and making him sleep on a couch in his own room, but he dismisses your concerns. he jokes that you can repay him by buying him an ice-cream, but also makes you promise that you won’t ever hesitate to come to him if you’re experiencing nightmares. jungwon’s caring nature never fails to bring tears to your eyes.

02. insists on shopping for food and home decor together

jungwon values your opinion a lot. he asks for your input whenever he purchases something for your shared apartment even if you aren’t buying the item with him. he firmly believes that a home is a person’s safe space; he would rather not have something in yours if both of you don’t approve of it. he makes sure to take into account your food preferences at all times. besides, jungwon has always thought grocery shopping is a great way for the two of you to spend time together in a productive yet fun way.

03. often cooks on days that you are supposed to (definitely NOT because he’s scared you’ll destroy the high-end appliances he stole from his mom’s kitchen back home)

jungwon loves cooking. he doesn’t think of it as a chore, but after you insisted on helping him out, he relented and agreed to let you cook twice every week. little did you know at the time, he had no intention of following through on his promise. he loves the smile that adorns your face when you eat his home-cooked food. watching you lick the plate clean like a starved animal fills his heart with warmth. you aren’t a picky eater either, so there is always someone to provide him with an honest review on the new dishes he learns. jungwon loves having his own food critic.

04. takes care of you when you’re sick

your parents entrusted jungwon with your well-being and he makes sure to not disappoint them. he is there to hold your hair up when you vomit into the toilet bowl after a long night of partying. he is there to place damp washcloths on your forehead when your fever is too high. he skips class and backs out of previously made commitments to take you to the doctor even though you might be capable of going by yourself. he makes you soup and remembers your medicine schedule. he asks you how you’re feeling. he wipes your tears. he promises to take you to your favourite restaurant if you make a quick recovery. he knows you’re a foodie and a cheapskate; no illness is strong enough to stop you from taking up on that challenge and winning it. 

05. looks out for you

jungwon makes you coffee when you’re too busy studying late into the night. he defends you fiercely when people talk smack about you behind your back. he stocks the pantry with chocolates and ice-cream when your cycle is close. he carries you back home on his back when you’re too drunk to walk. he drives you to class everyday even though your building is not on his route. he records your favourite shows when you don’t have the time to watch them. he helps you make your ex jealous by pretending to be your boyfriend when you run into them. he sets you up with his friends, who, he assures you, will treat you right and not break your heart. he then adds that he will beat them to pulp if they make you cry. you laugh and promptly remind him that he calls you to be his saviour whenever there’s a cockroach in his vicinity. jungwon, obviously, ignores you, but there’s a bittersweet smile on his face. he’ll miss being your roommate once you graduate college and move on with your respective lives.

[jupitermelichios]

So I’ve been playing a lot of skyrim lately, because it’s video game comfort food, and I decided it was time for my Redguard Dovahkiin to settle down. (Actually I specifically just wanted to be able to adopt some of the random orphans you meet because I felt guilty about them, but you need to be married before you can do that so that there’s someone at home to take care of the kids while you’re off galivanting).

So I travelled around a bit, chatting up likely looking npcs until I found one I both liked and didn’t feel guilty about marrying (I feel bad if I marry one of the warrior adventurer types, making them be a stay at home mum) and settled on an obnoxiously cheerful argonian called Shavee because her life was frankly shit, and I thought she’d probably be good with kids.

So off I go to Riften to the Temple of Mara to arrange the wedding. I book it in for the next day, realise I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, and spend the night before the wedding robbing every house in the city in the search for something to wear. Eventually decide everyone in Riften has terrible fashion sense and break down everything I stole into raw materials and use them to craft myself an outfit and some jewellery that i’m pretty happy with. I even carefully pick out my fanciest looking sword to wear.

(don’t know why I bothered, frankly, shavee turned up wearing a shirt covered in suspicious stains and weilding a pickaxe, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this marriage)

(also for comedy purposes, bear in mind I play with survival mods that mean my character needs to eat and sleep to live, and I literally spent the entire ingame night on this and forgot to eat and drink anything either and then just downed four bowls of wolf stew right before entering the temple so I didn’t starve during the ceremony. also I discovered during the wedding that I am dying of rockjoint, which I contracted from sleeping in a pile of hay on the floor of a skeever infested cave, so even being six foot tall and jacked can’t make up for the fact that I am exhausted, running a fever, and probably covered in wolf which I spilled because my joints are slowly atrophying, and even the fanciest clothes in the world aren’t going to cover that up)

so I enter the temple, and my finance is there, and Lydia my housecarl, and some random NPCs the game thinks are my friends because I did fetch quests for them

One of the random NPCs is Lisbet. Atfter I did her fetch quest, I then did another quest in which I discovered Lisbet is secretly a cannibal and part of a demonic cult that worships the daedric prince of decay by kidnapping priests, sacrificing them, and then eating their corpses. Raw. I think the raw meat is the sticking point for me here honestly.

I ultimately decided not to sacrifice the random priest to a daedric prince in exchange for one magic ring and all the raw human I could eat, because frankly, that doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me. I was expecting there to be some kind of dialogue choice where I could nope out at the last minute, but it turns out there isn’t one, so after they drugged the priest and tied him to the altar, I just got out my sword and started swinging.

I killed most of the cult (including the town butcher, because I had brought meat from him before and was extremely pissed off that he might have been secretly feeding me humans) but a couple of them got away, which I figured was fine because they weren’t trying to kill me.

Except it turns out, if any of them escape, then every time you see them in the future there’s a random chance that they’ll fly into a violent rage and try and murder you.

Lisbet is at my wedding. Lisbet decides that clearly me marrying this random argonian woman with two lines of dialogue is the happiest day of my life, and she cannot allow me that happiness, when I’ve taken so much from her.

So she tries to kill me. Only she can’t, because I’m stuck in a pre-rendered wedding animation, and also she’s sitting next to Lydia, my faithful retainer and owner of a really big axe.

It also turns out that Lisbet is essential, meaning she can be knocked unconcious but not actually killed because she’s needed for some quest or other. And the minute she wakes up from unconciousness, she tries to kill me again, so Lydia knocks her unconcious again, and I’m stuck, I can’t move, because I’m supposed to be in the wedding animation.

Except Shavee has, not unreasonably, see all this and decided that she doesn’t like me enough to risk getting murdered, and has done a runner, leaving me at the altar, but more importantly, leaving me trapped in a broken pre-rendered animation, so all I can do is stand there at the altar, staring at the space where my fiance was supposed to be, listening to the sounds of Lydia trying and failing to beat a cannibal to death behind me.

Okay, I think, clearly this wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m going to go for the registry office option and complete the wedding using the dev commands. I do this. The priest gives me a wedding ring, and I can finally move again. I chase after Shavee, who has an impressive turn of speed on her, and eventually catch up right by the city gates. I try to talk to her.

Apparently using the console has completed the wedding for me, but not for her, because she still only has the same 2 lines of dialogue she usually has.

Clearly this is working, I can’t leave my kids with someone who can only say 2 things and doesn’t even know she’s their mum, that’s irresponsible.

I try loading from inside the temple. I get the same problem.

Eventually I figure out that I need to use the dev controls to disable Lisbet’s entire existence in the universe.

Shavee and me get married. As the priest reads the vows, I stare at Shavee and wonder why she couldn’t even be bothered to put on a clean shirt. I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be.

Once the ceremony is over, and I’m happily married to the dirty green lizard of my dreams, and we’ve agreed that until I can make her recognise my extremely nice modded house exists I will share her single bed in the unheated flophouse in Windhelm she calls home, I re-enable Lisbet, because I’m worried I’ll forget if I leave it too long.

Fun fact about skyrim, it loads in quite a lot of npcs and objects by dropping them from the sky. I have no idea why this is the case, but it’s objectively the funniest way to load in objects.

I re-enable Lisbet. She falls from the sky, clips through the roof of the temple, and lands in the pew beside Lydia, stands up, draws a knife, and is immedately beaten unconcious.

I no longer care, because Shavee now has all the exciting new spouse-only romantic dialogue options like “Could you cook something for me” and “have you made any money lately”, and I know she’ll be a great mother.

I limp to the door of the temple, while around me the guests not involved in the Lydia-Lisbet murder cycle scream and duck for cover.

I open the door to the temple, immediately collapse and ragdoll down the steps, which is how I discover I am dying of rockjoint.

I limp to the orphanage down the street, adopt two kids, and then finally remember that I’m carrying garlic bread, which as we all know, cures all known illnesses.

When I emerge back into the street, full of the joys of motherhood and garlic bread, I find the town in disaray. Lydia is chasing Lisbet through the streets with an axe and a dragon is circling overhead, burning npcs to death. People are running for shelter, screaming, while the guards try to take down an entire dragon using only the worst bows and arrows in the game.

I decide that as a parent, I have to think of my own safety first and leave them to it.

I head out of the city, intent on returning home and figuring out why Shavee refuses to move in with me. A man hanging around the stables challenges me to a boxing match. For want of anything better to do, I agree.

Halfway through the fight he dodges at the wrong moment and I punch one of his horses in the head.

Two guards attack me while I desperately try to surrender. My kids will miss me, but I’m prepared to go to jail for my horse crimes, I’m an honest citizen. Also my horse crimes seem somewhat less important than the dragon.

The guards refuse to accept my surrender. I am stabbed to death. As I collapse in front of the indifferent horse, Lisbet exits the city, followed by Lydia. The last thing I see before I die is Lydia swinging her axe at Lisbet’s face.

[heartfullofleeches]

Convenience Store

Yandere Goddess x G.N Reader

Genre/Tags: Comedic Horror, Yandere| Mentions of blood and death

Word count: 1k

-

She's late again.

This is the sixth time in a row that your coworker has shown up late for work. You both work in a crappy convenience store in the middle of nowhere, where you and her are the only employees; aside from constantly changing your manager whom you never hear from unless they're screaming into the telephone.

Ding - Ding

The sliding doors' sensor alerts you to a new arrival with a friendly jingle. You know it could only be one person - since you never actually got any customers. The woman pulls off her coat and baseball cap with the line of "People fear me, Fish want me" crudely drawn on with a marker, and sits both on the floor by the coat rack. She coincidentally happens to be wearing a shirt with the same line and poor penmanship.

She strolls over to the frozen drink machine; creating a concoction of each flavor - and a bottle of an energy supplement. She, at least, makes her way to the counter; finishing the drink in a few gulps. She grins at you, eyes hidden behind red riffs of hair.

"Heya, Y/n. How's my favorite cashier?"

"Hey, Salem."

She scoffs at the nickname. "I told you that's not my name. You know what it is."

You really didn't. She never told you what it was or wore her badge. You started calling her that due to the brand of cigarettes she smoked, and created quite the tab on. You didn't care much either way, especially since you had plans after work.

"Can you hurry up and clock in? I'll be late to my appointment so they can take off this cast."

A day before your first shift, you got into an accident that broke your right arm. They still made you come in the next day, bit Salem was nice enough to draw a skull as well as write her phone number on it. Over the phone your doctor informed you that today was the day. You hope you'll be able to find the hospital in time.

Salem wiping a blood stain off the counter before she leabs against it. "Yeah, it's about that time. I made sure to give the guy who did it an extra swing before I threw him in the woodchipper."

"Thanks?"

She sighs. "I'm gonna miss all this?"

"Are you quiting or something?"

"No, but you are in a way. You're finally waking up."

"What are you talking about?"

Salem pulls out a lighter, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from behind you. "There's something I gotta tell you, Y/n."

"Okay?"

"You're dead."

"...o...kay"

"You were sacrificed by a cult to awake a being of unspeakable power. One they believed could gift them that same power, but it doesn't want that. It just wants to destroy. Been doing that for quite some time now."

"Alright."

"I'm that being, Y/n. I've kept you in this limbo for what feels like months, but has only been 48 hours. It took me a while to figure out how put you back together. It was like working with wet play-doh that kept falling apart and had bones."

"I sorta figured that out by now."

"Right. What you probably haven't figured out is that I'm in love with you. I've done this little song and dance before, but there's something about you that I can shake from my mind. I'm not even technically that God. I'm one of its meals that took over after it was killed. That's how its immortally works. Pretty vicious cycle."

Salem lights her cigarette, taking a long drag as she pats you on the back. "I'm only telling you this as a caution for what you're about to see. It ain't pretty, and I'm not either - but I don't have any plans of letting you go. I've decided to turn a new leaf. Peace and love, and all that. Less someone tries to take ya from me again.. See you in a few, Y/n."

She finally clocks in. You head to the store's exit, a white light beyond its reach. You had questions, but they would have to be left to another time as your body moves on its own. The door chimes once more as you take your final exit.

-

You wake on the floor of a large cabin; a foul stench in the area and piles of bodies around you. An outstretched arm lies in front of you - and nothing more. A familiar jacket is thrown over your body; your own clothes sticky and cold from the puddles of blood around you - one centering from right beneath you. You slowly sit up, remembering what happened before you died.

You were on your way home from work and had to take a side road due to construction. While making your way, a truck plowed into your car; knocking you out cold. You woke back up right before they slit your throat.

A frightened scream draws your attention to the front of the room; the alter where your life was stolen. A cult member is held in the large fist of a near indescribable figure. Its head scraps the ceiling; back turned so all you can see is the tail coat of its attire and the edge of the mask that hides its upper face. The pinkish tendrils that flow from its head weave together in what you could best describe as a lion's mane. It pulls back the mask that covers its face, a multitude of black tongues sweeping across the cult member's face before separate pairs of jaws are clamp around their body. It drops what's left of the corpse like a discarded rag; turning its head upon you.

It steps forward, a mist enveloping its body as it moves. As the fog shrinks and clears, you're left staring at your old coworker who greets you with a wide grin - fixing her cap on her head as she holds out her arms.

"Welcome back, baby! Gathered a welcoming party just for ya!"

Salem walks over, taking her jacket from your lap and putting it on before offering you her hand.

"Hope you don't forget everything I told you. Let's go get something to eat, I'm starving."

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Bright as the Night when the Goddess Does Smile

Life in the coastal village of Caromyr has been odd of late, with folk reporting sightings of odd creatures out in the hinterlands, strangers on the roads, and vivid dreams that seem to carry on into their waking hours. As the party end up drawn further and further into these uncanny happenings, they creep ever closer to the step that will take them from their sleepy ocean home and to the shore of a vaster, more wonderous sea than they could ever have imagined.

Hooks:

Though it will be a while before they discover it, the oddness in Caromyr is caused by the activated of a long forgotten astral portal out in the countryside. Opened by a group of extraterrestrial travlers on a mission and never properly closed, this portal is leaking alien entities and living dreams out into the unsuspecting countryside, and will continue to do so until someone with extraplanear knowledge manages to put it right.

Always a place of superstition and rumour, something’s taken up residence in the seacave a few miles down the shore. Its sneaking into town to collect people’s dreams and then letting them play out in the cave, inadvertently tempting people to investigate with the voices of friends and long lost family. One of the kids who pick over the shoreline’s gone missing after their gang of friends dared them to check it out, and are now quietly terrified now that they haven’t returned after the tide’s gone in and out.

With all these happenings about and the beats prowling at night, the party are asked to help with a supply run out to the local lighthouse, more than a day’s journey outside of town. When their camp is ambushed on the way to their destination, the party are saved by the old elven lighthouse keeper Altierien wielding a blade made of starlight. Far more than he first seems, the withered old figure will offer to explain once they’ve made it back to his tower, as he thinks he has an idea what’s behind all the recent mishaps.

Bright as the Night is a great setup/starter adventure when you want to tease the wonders of the astral expanse without jumping straight into spelljamming misadventures, giving your party a base of understanding in a more mundane reality before exploring the wonders of the cosmos. I highly encourage you to give the party a surfeit of seaside adventures before setting them take off into wildspace. Plus, giving the party a reason to give their characters backgrounds in sailing and other nautical skills will make for an easy transition when they find a star-ship of their own.

Background: Long before he ever came to Caromyr, Altierien was part of a band of immortals that marauded from world to world, caught up in an endless cycle of need and violence where time was only counted in the scars he dealt and collected. That was until he was cast into the void during a great battle, floating through the timeless reaches until his mind and body were among the swirling stars.  It was an encounter with the goddess Urania that brought him back to himself, not just his waking self but the person he was before effortless immortality took their awful toll upon his spirit. He dedicated himself to the bright maiden in that moment, and has spent his life since in quiet contemplation, studying the heavens and ensuring others can find their way home.

The travellers that opened the portal? Altierien’s old clanmates, intent on discovering a vital piece of information their old commander once held they now scour the landscape for him, slowly closing in as they realize that they’re tracking an old man, not the bloodthirsty warrior they previously knew.

It’s up to the party to decide whether they want to get involved or whether they’d leave the lighthouse keeper to his fate. He’s honest with the fact that though he’s on a new path, that doesn’t blot out the bad he’s done, so perhaps it’s some kind of justice that his past actually catches up with him. The party may just have this choice made for them when the small band of marauders roll into town with the intent of holding some innocents at knifepoint till they give up Altierien’s location.

Should the heroes end up siding with the old elf, they’ll earn themselves one hell of a mentor... a bit stiff in his old age but weighed down with lifetimes of experience as a sellsword and an equal skill with the blade. Of special interest is Altierien’s dedication to the goddess of stars, years of which have allowed him to construct a series of fighting forms based on the stars and other celestial bodies. He’s willing to teach the party what he’s developed, though he is remiss about the fact that some of the more elegant moves can only be performed in the low-gravity of wildspace.

[pepperonijem]

Backburner || Peter Parker

pairing: non avenger!peter parker x reader (college!au) warnings: this is just a lot of angst /: word count: 900 summary: you only feel alive when you’re crisping up on his back burner a/n: i went to see NIKI in concert last week and i was in shambles afterward… i will never recover so here’s some angst (also on pepperonidk)

Your finger hovers over the green button even before the second ring and you tell yourself to count to 13 before you let it make contact with the screen. The slight tremor in your hand is enough to remind yourself why you should have hit decline instead, but when his tired voice fills your ears, it hits you like air in your lungs and you wonder how you even live when he’s not there.

“Hey,” he says. He sounds sad, and the silence in the background instead of the usual overlapping chatter tells you he’s alone too. He must have snuck away to his room to get away from everyone.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, trying to tone down your excitement. It had been weeks since Peter had last called you and you had missed him, to say the least. Every day the temptation to call him first, to text him first, grew harder and harder to resist. But you told yourself it was time to break yourself out of this perpetual cycle of being at the beck and call of someone who you would never be able to call yours. Did you ever actually break out of it?

If you did, you wouldn’t be here, sitting with your unfinished assignments scattered in front of you on your desk, lying that you have nothing to do so you could listen to him talk idly about a song he learned on his guitar by The Goo Goo Dolls and how he wanted to play it for this new girl he’s been seeing lately.

You roll your eyes and decide right then that The Goo Goo Dolls are dead to you. But you don’t say this out loud. Instead you say, “Oh she’ll love that. Anyone would be lucky to hear you sing that for them.”

And you wish he would tell you that you’re the only person he could ever dedicate a love song to. Instead he says “Right? I think she’s pretty into me already so this is just gonna seal the deal.”

You have nothing to say to that, but part of you is scared that enough silence might convince him to hang up the phone, and you aren’t sure you’d be able to go another 3 weeks without his voice. So you ask instead about the new Star Wars show he started watching and it gets him going.

You don’t have a single clue what he’s talking about but you do know that when he says “I miss watching movies with you,” your heart skips and you feel the oh so familiar ache of missing him once again.

Maybe he’ll finally choose you after he’s had more time.

But maybe, you’ll settle for being the one he calls when the girls he loves become a song in his notes app about never being the one who’s chosen and you’ll do the same thing you do now –

You’ll hate yourself for picking up his call but feel a twisted sense of pride when he tells you you’re the only person he would ever tell this to. He’ll tell you that there’s no one else like you and sometimes he might even tell you that he hopes your heart never breaks the way his does and he’ll never know that it already has.

He’ll call you and he’s crying, which he never does in front of anyone but you. He asks for advice and in a month you hear him repeat your words on in a letter he wrote to another girl and you’ll remind yourself that he looks ugly when he cries. You’ll hate him for a week but then he calls again to invite you over and you’ll fight yourself all the way to the front door as you wear the perfume he likes and the shirt he once gave you and you’ll find yourself laying against his chest, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist and you’ll close your eyes and pretend that he called you here because he loves you and not just to feel the familiar warmth of a body next to his. While he’s asleep, you’ll let a tear slip out and tell yourself it’s the last time.

But when you wake up without him beside you the next morning and you see the burnt pancakes pushed to the back corner of his stove with a note that says “don’t eat these! They’re no good, be back soon :)” you remember where you exist in his heart and you wonder if he’ll forget about you the way he did the pancakes. But every time he’ll come back and you’ll let your own heart root for him just a little more.

He’ll be back. Peter always comes back.

You say it to yourself every time he leaves. Maybe that’s why you believe it now too. After weeks of radio silence, when you think he’s finally gone, and you can finally pull yourself away from his grasp on you to find someone who won’t love you part-time, his name will etch itself onto your phone.

You’ll find yourself here once again answering a siren’s call, and you’ll curtsy with a smile right as you walk off the plank.

Maybe he’ll finally choose you after he’s had more time.

The truth is you know he won’t. But whether it’s of free will or predestined, you know you’ll always find yourself on his back burner.