#at the end of the day its all pretend and we're all holding up our favorite dolls

[taurgo]

Thought of two things when I saw the new Deadpool

1) YES! when the fuck did superhero movies stop being fun?!? Getting to see obscure lil dudes show up and interact is what the people want and they NAILED IT. It was like an oasis in the desert

2) I'm so mad we don't have more lighthearted explorations into character interactions with the past shit marvel has been putting out. I feel like they ration joy. I feel like I've been robbed of what could have been THIS for the past decade what the FUCK.

Bonus (and non-spoilery): thank fucking Christ they've worked with what's already been established. Stop lore dropping marvel!!! You've made the sandbox now play in it!!!

[weirdsht]

cale with idiots in love trope

- "You're cute" "hm?" "I said you look like a boot."

- casual displays of affection, hand holding bc s/o would space out and may or may not get lost (directionally challenged)

- pretending everything is casual, but they're soooo in love with each other

- "I look like a mess" "the prettiest mess"

- the kids absolutely love when they get cuddles with cale and s/o

- maybe braiding cales hair??

- whenever cale goes somewhere and can't bring them, they'd go like "I'll be going for a while" (cale) "I'll always be here" (s/o)

- stealing cales clothes bc its comfy!!

- "are you asleep?" "...no" "wanna talk?"

- "I love you" "I've loved you my entire life"

Can’t Two People Be Friends? - Cale/Gn! Reader

tags: gender-neutral reader, deputy commander reader, getting together fic, vague novel spoilers, is told from Alberu's perspective, tired Alberu, save Alberu from his dumb dongsaeng, use of degrading words (e.g. stupid) but it's in a loving way, have I mentioned Alberu is tired of Cale's shit?

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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another anon said: cale who acts like a lover to his "closest confidant", though they are not in a relationship, they certainly do act like one– to the point that his crew would question them, to which they'd respond "We're just friends" "What do you mean? They look at you like you're their entire world"– which then starts their operation, get cale a lover

Cale Henituse is someone who has a lot of people under his wing. He's a heroic person busy saving the continents– no, the world. Which was why it is no surprise to find out that he has a close confidant. He has a second-in-command who helps him plan everything and is in charge of backup plans in case something goes wrong.

All of that is normal. Expected even.

What isn’t normal is how they act towards each other.

They act like… people who have a deeper relationship than just friends, for lack of a better term.

Like right now. [Name] is holding onto Cale’s arms as they navigate through this tiresome ball. Looking at him as if he had hung up the moon and the stars.

“Your Highness, you are quite close to the both of them… are we sure they are merely close friends?”

One of the nobles talking to Alberu Crossman questions as everyone watches the commander-and-deputy-commander duo dance in the centre of the hall.

“Of course they are. They have said so themselves.”

Alberu adds on at the end about how they shouldn’t inquire about another person’s private life.

However, Alberu himself is quite frustrated.

It was the truth when he said the two are nothing more than friends. And that’s what frustrates him. The two idiots can’t see the way they stare at each other. Can’t notice how they are unconsciously each other’s priority no matter what happens.

Alberu also knows that he isn’t the only one feeling this way.

No, as a matter of fact, everyone in Cale’s group feels the same frustration the future king feels.

“When will they get together? They deny their feelings as if we didn’t see them cuddling last night while reading a novel.”

On complained one day while eating the crown prince’s cookies.

“I’ve always known that our young master was quite dense in the aspect of love but… hmmm, I must say that this level is getting frustrating.”

Ron shared his own opinion as he served everyone tea.

Well everyone except the two people who are the topic of their discussion. Of course, they aren’t. For they were busy cuddling in the newly installed swing in the garden of the black castle while reading a novel. [Name] is busy platonically nuzzling their head in Cale’s chest, while Cale himself is busy platonically draping his legs over [name] as they lay down on the large swing.

‘Merely friends my ass’

Alberu thinks to himself as he watches the two from the window while sipping on the tea Ron served.

The people inside the room merely complained about Cale and [Name]’s relationship. They did not say anything about forcing them to get together and be in a romantic relationship.

And it’s not because they respect what the two have now.

No, it was simply because they didn’t need to say such things out loud. The complaints they have said out loud are enough confirmation to ensure that everyone is on the same page.

That everyone will be doing their best to show those two knuckleheads that what they have is more than platonic.

“You do know that you only let [Name] braid your hair like that. Do you realise just how much special privilege you give them?”

“What special privilege? The kids also braided my hair.”

Alberu’s dumb dongsaeng stared at him in confusion and the crown prince swears his about to have an aneurysm.

“Yes, but they are your kids. Of course, you’ll indulge them.”

“That is true…”

For a moment Alberu thought that they were finally heading somewhere.

“But [Name] is the only one who can braid my hair neatly like this.”

Turns out the only place they are heading to is back to square one.

Alberu pushed down the urge to smack a chair in his beloved dongsaeng’s face. How could he forget Ron’s existence? The Ron that does every task perfectly, but still could not braid the redhead’s hair because ‘only [Name] can do it perfectly’.

Cale better be glad Alberu didn’t transform Taerang into a hammer and threw it in his face.

“I love you, you know that right?”

[Name] had asked Cale during one of their cuddling sessions and Raon’s ears perked up.

“Of course I do.”

Cale answered casually and it got Raon’s hopes up.

“Are you guys together???”

He asked, eyes full of hope.

“What do you mean silly? Of course, we’re together, we’ve been friends for years now.”

That night Raon did not speak to any of them, and the two idiots only thought he was sick and tried to coax him to talk to them.

Subtle advances like that continued for a while before they all admitted defeat. One day Rosalyn even straight up asked [Name] how they felt about Cale. To which the deputy commander only responded with “he’s my best friend of course” before going on their merry way to steal another one of Cale’s clothes.

Just when all of them are about to give up Alberu caught the two of them talking in that same swing one night. 

He was about to go back to the palace. Only went to sneak into Raon’s castle to talk to Cale about an important business that cannot be said through a communication device. However, just as he was about to teleport back he heard the two.

“Why are you still awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep. You weren’t in bed.”

“Wanna talk then?”

Alberu silently scoffs at them. Even their conversations sound like their married already.

They talk for a few minutes. Topics vary from the mundane to philosophical questions no one can answer. 

It didn’t look like Alberu would get anything from eavesdropping so he thinks about going home.

But then…

“I know we’re both too busy. I know this will only add more burden to you. However, I must say it.”

[Name] spoke gently. Their eyes which were previously watching the stars shifted their focus to stare at Cale’s face.

“I love you. I love you so much. I love you more than life.”

That made the crown prince stop in his tracks. For a moment he remembers Raon’s complaints about how they seem to say “I love you” to each other without it meaning anything. For a moment he doubted if it was a confession.

Of course that didn’t stop him from recording the whole thing.

“I love you too. I’ve loved you this entire time. I’ll love you even after death.”

At Cale’s reciprocity, Alberu finally moved to give the privacy. He may want to see the two of them get together, but he does not want to see them kiss. A confession was enough to satisfy him.

But the irritation he feels from waiting for them to confess did not go away.

Hence why instead of going home he first went to his instructor, Choi Han.

Alberu Crossman did not say to the swordmaster. He only hands him a piece of paper before going back to his palace.

In that paper wrote:

The two idiots are finally together. I have a recording if anyone is interested. I’ll show it in exchange for a recording of you lightly smacking my lovely dongsaeng head upside-down. I’m sure my instructor will understand where I’m coming from.

Choi Han does. He greatly understands where his student was coming from.

That’s why, the next morning he was setting up a hidden recording device with a smile on his face.

Oh, he also got everyone’s permission before he set it up. In fact, most of them cheered at the thought of him physically knocking some sense in their young master’s head. 

[fanbasetwo]

TIL DEATH DO US PART , RICKY

PAIRING: husband ! ricky × wife ! afab reader

SYNOPSIS: In an arranged marriage where sparks never flew, you finally chose divorce as the only path to freedom. But when your husband died in a sudden accident, life took an unexpected turn, binding you to a reality marked by guilt, grief, and the shadows of unfulfilled words. Now, you must navigate a world that holds him forever gone.

GENRE: fluff + angst

WARNING(S): not proofread, kissing, dirty jokes, a little bit suggestive, mentions of suicide and death, insecurities, mentions of pregnancy. lmk if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 16.2K

FEAT: JAY from ENHYPEN + some ocs

MASTERLIST !!

NOTE FROM SENA , this kinda flopped on my enha blog but I still wanted to reach more people, so here it is. an ricky version of the same fic, if you find ‘jake’ instead of ‘ricky’ in some paras please mention so that I can edit it out. hope you have fun reading this <3💗

DEAR RICKY,

I'm sorry, but I can't continue living like this. I'm leaving. Our marriage has become a constant battle, and I believe we're both suffering more by holding on than we would by letting go. I know neither of us wanted it to come to this, and I wish things were different. But deep down, I think we're better apart. I hope one day you'll understand.

With regret, Y/N.

TEARS BLURRED YOUR VISION AS YOU STARED AT THE CRUMBLED NOTE IN YOUR HAND—the one you had written to Ricky months ago. The one that now felt like a curse. Your hands shook as you traced the familiar words, guilt twisting your insides. I'm leaving. I'm sorry. He had never known the true weight of those words. And now he never would.

The police had found it in his pocket. They said he'd carried it with him, even after everything. Even when he... when he was gone.

You collapsed onto the couch, clutching the note like a lifeline, but it only felt like a reminder of how far you had pushed him. How much you had wanted out, and now, how deeply you regretted it. A year together, two lives constantly at odds, and it had ended in this way. A divorce that never came, an accident that did. You didn't want this, didn't want him gone, but now, all you had was this-regret, and a body that was too still in your bed to hold. The anger, the frustration of him being gone-it consumed you, ate at your soul.

Why couldn't you have waited?

You had hoped time apart would fix things, give you both breathing room. But he hadn't lived long enough for you to see the good you could have made of it. The guilt ate you alive, deeper than the frustration ever had. You tried to convince yourself it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't have known, but deep down, the truth stung. Your note had been his last reminder of your marriage. His last memory. He had carried your rejection right until the end.

Would things have been different if you hadn't written that letter?

The thought raked at your mind like shards of glass, shredding everything in its path. What if you had kept fighting for him, for the marriage? Would he have been here? Would you have learned to love him? Or would he still have left, still have been gone, no matter what?

Your thoughts flickered back to moments with him-so small, so easy to overlook. The way Ricky had rolled his eyes every time you'd scolded his niece Semi for spilling juice, or how he had tried to hide his smirk as he pretended to act innocent. The little things that used to irritate you, that you had never really appreciated until now.

You remembered the way he defended you against his relatives, his words sharp and protective as they made cruel comments about your body. They didn't understand, but Ricky did. He had always been there, not perfect but trying.

“She suits me well enough.”

The memory felt like a slap now, a cruel joke. You had spent so much time pushing him away, not seeing that he cared. You hadn't seen that he had tried.

“Why couldn't I have seen it?” You whispered to the empty room, curling up on the bed, pressing your face into the pillow. The tears soaked into the fabric, and the sobs wracked through you like a storm. Why was it only now, when he was gone, that you realized how much he had mattered?

You had never kissed him, never held him the way a wife should. You thought you had the luxury of time, but now you had nothing left but his memory. The memory of a man you barely knew but had somehow been the one constant in your life. How selfish of you to push him away. How stupid to think it was all about the fights, the annoyances, and not about the love you could have had.

“Please... Ricky. I'm sorry...”

The words escaped you as your sobs grew louder, choking your breath. Your body trembled with grief, the weight of regret pressing down on you until you couldn't breathe. If only you could undo it, go back and rewrite the note. If only you hadn't given up on him, on the marriage, on the chance for something more.

The room felt suffocating now, as though the walls were closing in around you. What now? you thought. There was no future with him anymore. No next step. No reconciliation.

Why had you waited so long to realize how much he meant to you?

You sank deeper into your pillow, tears soaking your face and your hair, wishing for the impossible: for him to walk through the door, to come back, to make everything okay again. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

And all that was left was you. And the note.

YOUR MOTHER IN LAW’S HANDS TREMBLE AS SHE EXTENDS THE ANCESTRAL RING TOWARDS YOU, her eyes glistening with raw grief. The ring's delicate gold band catches the light, an unwanted reminder of everything Ricky represented—strength, love, an unfinished story.

“He wanted you to have this… but I never thought I’d give it to you now. Not like this,” she whispers, her voice breaking before dissolving into quiet sobs. The sound is so raw it scrapes at your heart. For a moment, the room feels unbearably small, closing in with the suffocating weight of shared loss.

You stare at the ring, fingers hovering uncertainly. The thought of accepting it feels like admitting he’s really gone. Yet, you know you can’t refuse it; Ricky’s wish, even unspoken now, feels sacred. You slip the ring onto your finger, a silent acknowledgment of the man you had once promised yourself to, a man you’ll never get the chance to truly know.

With a hesitant step forward, you place your hand on her shoulder, the touch meant to soothe but feeling fragile, as though it could shatter under the weight of her grief. The older woman leans into you, body racked with tremors as she buries her face in her hands. Her sobs rise and fall in uneven waves, echoing in the otherwise silent room.

“Please… don’t cry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and cracking at the edges. The night had drained you, leaving your eyes dry yet still burning, poised for more tears that you no longer had the strength to shed.

Her grief pierces deeper. “He wouldn’t want to see you in pain,” you add, voice low, carrying the weight of a plea that even you don’t believe.

“I-I know,” she manages between sobs, her shoulders trembling. “But… he was so young, so full of life. It should’ve been me, not him. He barely started his life, and now…”

The room seems to warp under the heaviness of her words. You know she’s right. The unfairness of it all gnaws at you. But what would Ricky want? The question echoes in your mind, clawing for answers you wish you didn’t have to seek.

You close your eyes for a brief second, conjuring his face in your memory—the way his smile would sneak out when he thought you weren’t looking, the stubborn tilt of his chin when he was determined. You imagine him here, telling you what to do, how to be strong for her when he couldn’t be.

Drawing in a shaking breath, you shift, wrapping your arms around your mother-in-law. She stiffens for a heartbeat before collapsing into the embrace, her body convulsing with grief. Her head rests on your shoulder, and you stroke her back, the gesture rhythmic, almost desperate, as if the act itself could soothe the unsoothable.

“My poor boy… he must’ve been so scared, so alone in those final moments,” she chokes out, and it’s as if a knife twists in your chest. The image of him in pain, of his last moments, blurs the edges of your control. A tear slips down your cheek, a singular escape among the multitude waiting behind your lashes.

“I’m so sorry, Ricky,” you whisper, barely audible. The guilt is relentless, intertwining with the ache of loneliness that had settled deep within you long before he passed. You were alone when he was alive, and now that emptiness has transformed, sharpened by grief, into something more unbearable.

Her sobs quiet, just enough for her to lift her head and take in your expression, your tears mingling with unsaid words. She studies you, eyes clouded by grief but touched with understanding.

“You must feel so alone too… You and Ricky… barely had time,” she murmurs, her voice a weak echo of empathy.

The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain. You meet her gaze and see the exhaustion, the pain mirrored back at you. It anchors you for a moment, before she speaks again.

“You’re still young. You should think of moving forward one day. Remarry, maybe… You’ll always be like a daughter to me, but you have to live, too.”

Your heart clenches, rejecting the thought. You don’t want to. The ache of wanting Ricky, even in a marriage that had felt distant, is a raw wound you can’t imagine healing. The loneliness was familiar; life without him is uncharted, unbearable.

“I won’t… I can’t,” you admit, voice shaking as the tears finally spill, unchecked. “I just want him back. Even if it means being lonely again.”

The words break you open, and this time, neither of you tries to stop the crying. You hold each other in the ruins of shared loss, hoping, against hope, that the pieces of your shattered hearts will one day feel less sharp.

YOUR HANDS CHILLED FROM THE BRISK AIR, DIG DEEPER INTO YOUR COAT POCKETS AS YOU GAZE OUT INTO THE SWIRLING SNOW, a faint numbness settling in your bones. Each snowflake that brushes against your cheek feels colder than the last, a physical reminder of the frost that’s taken root in your heart, a void Ricky's absence left behind. Life has lost its rhythm, its purpose, and the bustling world seems foreign, moving on a beat you no longer recognize.

Nursing, once a passion that filled your heart, now feels suffocating. The once-simple act of caring for patients, seeing them through their darkest times, now stirs something darker inside you—an envy for their hope, their chances. These creeping, bitter thoughts had scared you enough to step back from the only profession you knew. The faces of crying relatives haunted your dreams, their grief striking chords too familiar, too close. You’d sworn to heal, never harm, yet here you are, carrying shadows of guilt too heavy to bear.

The café’s warmth hits you as you push through the door, a momentary comfort against the gnawing cold. You shuffle forward, fingers fumbling in your pocket for money as your eyes wander the room. Ricky had always spoken fondly of this place, a little corner shop with its cozy mismatched chairs and the sweet aroma of cocoa and baked pastries. A small pang clenches your chest, regret whispering its usual 'what ifs.' If only you’d agreed to visit here with him, if only time hadn’t been a cruel master.

The barista, a young woman with weary eyes, glances up as she speaks. “Ma’am, are you ordering?” Her voice, though polite, carries a slight impatience with the growing line behind you.

“Ah, yes… a cold coffee,” you manage, the words falling flat as if they don’t quite belong to you. Her brows lift, a flicker of confusion.

“In this weather?” she asks, a hint of genuine concern lacing her tone.

Realizing the absurdity, you swallow, forcing a small, resigned nod. “Hot chocolate then,” you say, the warmth of Ricky’s recommendation tugging at the edges of your memory.

The exchange is brief, the hot drink pressed into your hands a minute later. As you turn to leave, the weight of the ancestral ring around your finger pulls at you, its cool surface grounding and yet suffocating. The bittersweet metal reflects a dull glow, a silent reminder of promises made and broken, of the love lost and the void left behind.

The wind picks up outside, tugging at your coat as you sip the hot chocolate. Its warmth spreads through you, but it’s fleeting, never enough to touch the ache within. You shake your head, Ricky’s face vivid in your mind, his teasing smile as he’d planned your future dates. You’d push the thought aside, but every step feels like dragging a part of him behind you.

“Why can’t I let go?” you murmur, voice snatched away by the icy air. Your brother-in-law’s words echo in your mind, urging you to stop living in Ricky’s shadow. But how do you tear yourself away from the ghost of a love that never got to finish its story?

Snow clings to your coat as you continue to trudge through the city, each step heavy with an ache that refuses to fade. The glow of the streetlights bathes the snow in a warm, golden hue, contrasting the bitter chill that settles in your chest. Sipping the hot chocolate, you try to focus on the warmth sliding down your throat, but the sweetness only sharpens the emptiness inside. The steam curls from the cup, a fleeting comfort as your breath mingles with it in the frigid air.

You pause near a park bench, eyes darting to couples bundled up, their laughter piercing through the quiet snowfall. One couple stands close, the man adjusting the scarf around his partner’s neck with a smile that makes your heart clench. You bite the inside of your cheek, the taste of copper sharp on your tongue as you fight back the sting in your eyes. The jealousy gnaws at you, sour and uninvited.

The memory of Ricky’s voice flits through your mind, warm and teasing: “Good things happen to good people.” You scoff, the bitterness in that statement now a cruel joke. Were you not good enough? The universe seemed to think so, because it had ripped him away, leaving a hollow shell in his place.

Lost in thought, you find yourself on the bridge, fingers trailing over the iron railing that has frosted over, leaving cool streaks on your gloves. This place, once so filled with light and memories, feels haunted now. You trace a path where your and Ricky’s hands once met, where laughter and shared secrets once echoed.

A voice, small and familiar, intrudes on your thoughts. Semi’s question echoes, fragile and innocent: “Aunty, when will Uncle come home?” You close your eyes, the lump in your throat thickening as the memory sharpens. You remember her wide, unknowing eyes searching yours for an answer you couldn't give, the guilt of that half-truth searing into you as you whispered, “I’m not sure, sweetie.”

You grip the railing tighter, feeling the cold seep through your gloves as the ache of regret claws at your heart. The river below moves steadily, unaffected by the chaos in your chest. You look down, watching the water catch the light in rippling patterns, your reflection distorted and wavering. The noise of the city fades as you breathe in the freezing air, each exhale a shuddering attempt to steady yourself.

A gust of wind stings your face, and you force yourself to look up, straightening with a resolve that feels fragile. Ricky’s brother and his wife were inside your apartment, their watchful eyes filled with concern disguised as casual chatter. You know why they stay—it’s not out of pity, but out of fear, a silent agreement to keep you tethered when your world felt like it was splitting at the seams.

The laughter from the park drifts over again, mingling with the hum of distant traffic. For a moment, you let yourself remember the warmth of Ricky’s embrace, the way he’d nudge your shoulder and murmur, “Life doesn’t stop, even when we want it to.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” you whisper into the night, the words barely a breath as they dissolve in the chill.

The warmth of the hot chocolate fades as the biting wind grazes your skin, a cruel reminder of the numbing void left behind. You stare at the bridge, eyes tracing the railings where Ricky’s laughter once echoed. A memory surfaces, unbidden yet vivid.

“I know this isn't what either of us planned, but... I wish we could work it out,” Ricky had said, a touch of hesitation softening his confident voice. His hands, hesitant but steady, hovered near you, respecting the space you held between.

“I wish that too,” you had murmured, the lie sliding off your tongue too easily. You’d convinced yourself you didn't care enough for Ricky then, but the pang of that memory now gnawed at your insides. Regret had a way of reshaping the past, twisting even the most indifferent moments into sharp blades.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Ricky had prodded gently, eyes bright even as he leaned down to meet your gaze.

Caught off guard, you’d raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” The question felt foreign, untouched by anyone's curiosity until now.

“Your ideal type,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting as though challenging you. His height had always made you tilt your head back to catch his expression—a detail that now felt like a cruel nostalgia.

“Why would you ask that?” You'd played along, teasing but curious.

Ricky chuckled, the sound resonant and warm. “Because we're getting married, and maybe knowing each other better will make it feel less... strange. Maybe, just maybe, we'll fall in love.” His hand, finally settling on your shoulder, had felt reassuring, a silent promise in its touch.

The memory cleaves through you like a knife, leaving behind a raw wound that no time or distance can heal. A single tear slips down your cheek as you blink, the reality of the moment washing over you like a wave. The park across the street bustles with couples walking hand-in-hand, laughter and warmth breaking through the cold that wraps around you. A fresh ache takes root, sharp and relentless.

You drop the empty cup into the trash can, the metallic clang breaking your reverie. The grief, heavy and suffocating, presses you to the edge as you turn and begin the long walk home. Your footsteps are heavy, every step an effort against the pull of the past.

“Aunty, you're so late. Did you bring Uncle with you?” Semi’s small voice meets you at the door, eyes bright with innocent hope. The guilt hits you like a punch, stealing the air from your lungs. Your throat tightens as you shake your head, eyes avoiding her searching gaze.

Jieun, seeing your reaction, sighs softly as she pulls Semi closer. “Semi, we talked about this, remember?” Her voice holds the practiced patience of a mother trying to shield her child from the pain.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Semi mumbles, eyes dropping to her tiny hands that fidget nervously. The sight twists your heart, guilt layering over the grief that refuses to ease.

You force a hollow smile. “It’s okay, Jieun. She's just a kid,” you say, your voice low and void of emotion as you shrug off your winter coat and hang it up. The familiar routine feels like a play you no longer wish to act in.

“Still, I just—” Jieun’s words falter as you cut her off, your voice breaking the tension.

“Please,” you murmur, the word sharp and desperate, silencing the room. The stillness that follows is suffocating, your breaths shallow as you fight to keep your composure.

Jieun's eyes search yours, understanding but hesitant. “We just don’t want you to be alone,” she whispers, her voice thick with worry.

“I know,” you reply, sitting on the couch with your head hung low, hands clenched tightly in your lap. After a long pause, you add, “But you need to leave. This is your home too, but you have your own life to get back to. I need time... time to figure out how to grieve.” Your eyes don’t lift to meet theirs; you can’t bear to see the disappointment or concern there.

Semi’s voice pipes up again, the innocence piercing through your defenses. “Are you sending us away, Aunty?”

The weight of guilt deepens, pressing into your chest. You close your eyes, feeling the sting behind your lids before you answer. “No, sweetie, I’m not sending you away. You can come whenever you want. Aunty will always be here.” The words come out flat, and you feel them land like lies in the air between you.

Jieun picks Semi up, nodding at you as if she understands, though her eyes glisten with worry. “We’ll give you some space. But we’ll check in. Don’t forget that, please.”

When the door clicks shut, silence wraps around you, heavy and thick. Your gaze shifts to the note you’d prepared earlier, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. The words, written in your own hand, feel foreign now: apologies to the people who stayed, memories they never knew you held, and the final confession of a heart too weary to go on.

You were battling with the urge to just end it all.

The rational part of your brain told you that you were young and had your whole life ahead and that you'd meet a lot of guys in your life but the stubborn heart won't give up and held onto the memory of the guy you once called your husband.

So, you gave up.

A smile, then another.

The city glows beneath you, lights sprawled like constellations cast on earth. The wind at this height is sharp, tearing through your clothes and chilling your skin, as if trying to pull you back from the edge. Your shoes scrape against the concrete ledge, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the battle waging within. The night air smells faintly of rain, metallic and crisp, mingling with the faint hum of traffic below.

You steady your phone in your trembling hand, its cold surface grounding you momentarily. A notification pings, an ironic reminder that life continues to tick on, indifferent to the turmoil within you. The camera lens reflects the shimmer of unshed tears as you hit record, the small red dot staring back like a silent witness.

A smile forms—hesitant, broken. Then another, and another, each one a mask that crumbles too soon. “To everyone who still cares,” you begin, your voice low and cracking, “Semi, sweet, innocent Semi. Jieun, always so patient. Jay... my husband’s shadow in every way. My sister, my friends, all of you who tried.”

The wind picks up, whipping strands of hair across your face as you pause, the weight of the unsaid pressing on your chest. You blink rapidly, tears slipping free, their warmth stinging against your cold cheeks. “Ricky wouldn't want this. I know he'd call me stubborn, weak even.” You let out a hollow laugh, the sound swallowed by the wind. “But he wouldn’t understand how loud it is in the silence he left behind.”

Your heart hammers as you shift your weight, the city seeming to inhale with you, holding its breath in anticipation. The edge of the building digs into the soles of your feet, the space between you and the world below both terrifying and liberating.

“I miss the little moments, Ricky,” you whisper, voice breaking as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I miss you making me feel lonely, and now... now I’m lonelier without you.” The ache in your chest is unbearable, a cavernous void that steals your breath.

One last deep breath, air burning through your lungs, and you step forward. The world blurs into a rush of sound and sensation—wind roaring in your ears, your body weightless, suspended in a moment between despair and peace.

And then the fall hits.

Pain surges through you, sharp and overwhelming, before darkness takes over. Around you, the chaos erupts into a cacophony—screams, the frantic pounding of feet, and the sharp cry of ambulance sirens slicing through the night. But these sounds are drifting away, becoming faint murmurs from a world slipping out of reach.

Silence wraps around you, one that made you feel like everything would be okay after this. Maybe, just maybe, peace waits on the other side. In death.

YOU WALK THROUGH THE DENSE, MILKY FOG, EACH REVERBERATING IN AN ECHO THAT NEVER QUITE SETTLES. The air is cool, feather-light, whispering like distant memories. Is this heaven? The question circles in your mind, unspoken. If it is, where is Ricky? A quiet laugh escapes your lips, hollow. He couldn’t have done enough wrong to land in hell, you think, the hint of humor biting through your longing. Yet, the anticipation twists your heart—an ache that makes you want to see him so desperately.

You try to call out, “Ricky?” but the sound stays trapped in your chest, choked by the thick fog. Another step forward and there’s nothing but endless white, stretching out, swallowing you whole. Your breath catches; suddenly, the air thins, compressing your lungs, squeezing out every ounce of oxygen. You gasp, your hands clawing at the invisible force stealing your breath. It feels like drowning in emptiness.

Then—without warning—everything shifts. White light erupts around you, blinding and all-consuming. You brace for oblivion, muscles tensing for an end you’re sure is near. But instead, there’s a softness beneath you—a mattress that cradles you like an embrace you forgot.

Your eyes snap open, pupils adjusting to the familiar pale ceiling. It’s your ceiling. Your shared room. The bed, the faint scent of Ricky’s cologne still lingering in the sheets, as if he just left. You sit up, heart thundering, hands brushing over your body frantically. No pain, no bruises, no broken bones—nothing. You’re whole, intact.

Then the realization hits you like cold water, and your fingers tremble as you pull them away.

“What the…?” you murmur, eyes darting around, seeking answers that the silent room won’t give. Your gaze falls to the phone on the bedside table, its screen blank and mocking in its stillness. You grab it, breath hitching as the time blinks to life.

January 29th, 2024. 6:30 a.m.

A shiver races down your spine. The date stares back at you, sharp and impossible. You set the phone down, legs feeling weak as you stand and approach the mirror. Your reflection isn’t that of a woman who has been weeping endlessly. Your eyes, dry and wide, reflect confusion rather than the storm of emotions that you carry.

“Is this one of those flashes they say you see before death?” Your voice trembles as the words escape, and you reach up to touch the cold glass. The girl looking back at you does the same, fingers meeting yours in a silent plea.

Then, your eyes catch it. The blue gel pen resting on the dresser—a pen that has no place outside your drawer. It’s a small thing, but the sight of it makes your breath hitch. Memories slice through you, sharp and unforgiving. That pen was the one you’d used for the note to Ricky, the one that demanded space, an end.

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head, bile rising in your throat. The pen feels like a cruel token, mocking you for what came after. In a swift motion, you snatch it up, the cold plastic biting into your skin as you grip it tight. The weight of your guilt, your regret, turns your stomach, and with a sudden burst of anger, you hurl the pen into the trash, its clatter punctuating the silence like a final plea.

Chest heaving, you close your eyes. If this is some kind of twisted second chance, you don’t know if you should feel terror or relief. But the room, the sheets, the absence on the other side of the bed—everything points to one impossible truth.

You’re back.

But this isn't a romance novel, is it?

Your eyes trail back to the empty bed, where Ricky should be. “Ricky?” The name falls from your lips, hopeful, trembling, but the silence stretches on, suffocating.

Your heart thuds like a wild drumbeat, erratic and desperate, the rhythm matched only by the single hope that propels you forward: seeing Ricky. Alive. Healthy. Breathing.

You practically jog out of the shared bedroom, your bare feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floor as you turn the corner. The guest room door is ajar, a sliver of dim light illuminating the narrow hallway. The pulse in your chest quickens, breaths shallower with each step until you reach the threshold. You pause, drawing in a trembling breath before stepping inside.

There he is. Ricky. Lying on his side, dark hair fanned messily over the pillow, the soft rise and fall of his chest hypnotic in its simplicity. Relief washes over you so powerfully that your knees almost buckle. You inch closer, careful not to make a sound. The blanket is snug around his torso, exposing his bare, muscular chest—the way he prefers when he’s alone. Your throat tightens at the sight, familiar yet so foreign now.

Your hand, almost on its own accord, hovers over his face, fingers trembling as you place them under his nose. The soft, warm breath that meets your touch is enough to sting your eyes with unshed tears. Your hand drifts down, resting against his chest, where you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat—a rhythm you thought you’d never sense again.

Ricky stirs, the sudden shift pulling you out of your trance. His eyelids flutter open, dark eyes glazed with sleep but sharpening as they land on you. He blinks once, then again, brows drawing together.

“What are you doing?” His voice, rough with sleep, carries a note of confusion that makes your hand fall away as though burned.

“I-I…” The words snag in your throat, scrambling to make sense of the madness. How could you possibly explain? Your eyes dart nervously to the floor, heat searing your cheeks as you mutter, “I missed your kisses.”

The room freezes. You can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with disbelief. He shifts, sitting up, and the blanket slips down to his waist, revealing the sharp lines of his torso. Your eyes betray you, flickering over the familiar planes before darting away in embarrassment.

“But… we never kiss,” he says, voice low and edged with confusion. The statement slices through you, painfully reminding you of the distance you both had grown used to.

“I know... I...” you whisper, fingers clenching into fists at your sides. The silence stretches, heavy, until the sharp trill of his phone alarm shatters it. Ricky’s attention shifts, eyes narrowing as he leans to silence it. When he looks up again, the space where you stood is empty.

You rush back to your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft thud, heart hammering in your chest. Sliding down until you sit with your back pressed against the cool wood, you cover your flushed face with shaking hands. Your pulse thunders in your ears, mixing with the replay of his sleepy voice, the fleeting touch of his warmth.

Is this really the past? The question festers, tugging at the edges of logic, but the ache in your chest and the rawness of your emotions tell you it is. And if so, this year holds one horrifying certainty: Ricky’s death.

The mere thought twists something deep inside you, bringing back the soul-crushing grief, the endless nights of regret. You glance down at your wrist, breath catching as your eyes lock on the ink-black date that marks it: November 4th. The day Ricky dies.

Frantically, you rub at the skin, as if the stubborn mark will simply smudge away under your touch. But it doesn’t. The date remains, stark and immovable, taunting you.

A shiver crawls up your spine, but then a thought—a glimmer of defiance—roots itself.

What if you change it? What if this was given to you, not as a cruel joke, but a chance to rewrite what went so terribly wrong? To love him in a way you never did and save him from the fate that once tore your entire world apart.

“I can do this,” you whisper, determination threading into your voice. The regret may have once paralyzed you, but now it fuels you. If you only have until that date, then every second will be spent fighting fate, no matter how impossible it seems.

THE SOFT MURMUR OF THE COUPLE’S CONVERSATION DRIFTS DOWN THE STERILE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR, brushing against your ears like a whispered secret. The woman lies propped against crisp white pillows, her leg encased in a cast, eyes fixed on her partner with a blend of exhaustion and comfort. He leans forward, fingers interlaced with hers, voice low and tender.

“Can you please see what's wrong?” he asks, eyes glistening with concern. He gently squeezes her hand, words spilling out as quiet reassurances. “You're doing so well, love. It's going to be okay.”

A tight warmth coils in your chest as you approach, a familiar pang of bittersweetness shadowing the sight. The love, the unwavering devotion-it's moments like these that remind you why you cherish your job. The fragility of life, held together by threads of connection, has always moved you, even when those threads unraveled in your own life.

When you started nursing, blood was your greatest fear, the sight once enough to turn your stomach. Time had softened those edges, transforming anxiety into steady resolve. It was also during those early years when you married Ricky, the man whose smile was warm enough to banish shadows but whose presence now only haunted your memories. The marriage had lasted five years before everything shattered with the crash.

No. Stop. The thought rushes at you like a wave, cold and suffocating. You grit your teeth, eyes burning as you push it down, push him down, refusing to let the grief claw at you. He's alive here, in this fragile present you've been thrust into. Don't let the past bleed into now.

“Sure,” you say softly, the practiced smile you wear settling on your face. You reach out, fingers moving gently over the girl's cast, checking the edges, ensuring everything is as it should be. She nods in silent gratitude, eyes fluttering shut with relief as her partner exhales.

The end of your shift arrives with the deep hues of twilight stretching across the sky. The drive home is long, punctuated by the soft rumble of the engine and the anxious thrum of your thoughts. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel, tapping out a nervous rhythm. Avoid home, your mind suggests, listing off a million errands you suddenly think of, any excuse to delay the inevitable.

But the excuses run dry when you're standing in front of your door, keys cold against your palm. The air outside is crisp, biting at your cheeks as you draw a deep breath and hold it. The weight of the morning—Ricky’s sleepy, questioning eyes and the ghost of your impulsive words-hangs between you and the door.

“Is it too late to back down?” The whisper escapes your lips, trembling in the chilly silence. You picture his expression, the puzzled furrow of his brow as he replayed your words. The way his fingers brushed over his phone, gaze lifted just in time to see you flee. He isn't stupid. Ricky never was.

With a sigh, you slip the key into the lock, the click loud and final. The door opens, and warmth spills out to meet you, along with the faint scent of his cologne. Your pulse quickens as you step inside, the hum of your heartbeat louder than the quiet creak of the floor under your weight.

Don't run, you tell yourself, even as the urge coils tight in your muscles. You close the door behind you.

As you push open the front door, the faint glow of the television casts flickering shadows across the living room. There he is-your husband, Ricky, reclined on the couch, eyes fixed intently on the news. His brows knit slightly as a montage of suited politicians gestures on screen, their voices droning promises as hollow as a whisper in the wind.

He is basically watching those politicians give some weird and untrue promises for the sake of votes.

How romantic. How normal. The bitter thought twists in your chest. But it isn't. Nothing about this is normal. Why would he be watching the news, of all things? Then, a pang of irony hits you like a wave. How hypocritical, you think. You promised Ricky your forever in a ceremony that now feels like an echo. The vows shared between you had been spoken out loud but never truly lived.

You shake the memory away, an old wound you refuse to pick at as you step inside, the floor cool under your feet. Ricky doesn't notice you at first, his attention locked on the screen, oblivious to the fact that the person who left him a note asking for space now stands in the doorway, wrestling with the tension roiling inside her.

“Hey,” you finally say, the word falling between you like an anchor. It comes out awkward, unsure, a fragile hope that he won't read too much into it. But Ricky's eyes flick to yours, a spark of recognition cooling to something unreadable.

“You're back home?” His voice is measured, neither warm nor cold, but there's a tightness to it that you can't ignore. He shifts, the blue glow of the screen catching the sharp line of his jaw as he waits for your response.

The note. You had slipped it into his hand, asking for a break from a marriage four years deep but hollow. Your heart thuds in your chest, fingers clenched at your side as you speak before fear can pull the words back.

“The note-I take it back. I don't want a break from you or this relationship, Ricky.”

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the low hum of the news anchor's voice. His eyes search yours, a hint of disbelief darkening the warm brown you once memorized. “Why?” The question slices through the quiet, clipped and cautious. You almost flinch at the hardness there, a wall built brick by brick in your absence.

“Because I don't want to stay away from you.” Your voice trembles, raw honesty exposed between you like an open wound. Ricky's eyes widen slightly, the stoic mask cracking as a flush creeps across his cheeks.

“Y-You're blushing?” The soft, astonished laugh tumbles out of you, a momentary break in the storm that makes you feel like you're standing on the edge of something new. The corners of his mouth twitch, the faintest sign of a smile, but he shakes his head.

“Sure, sir. You're just cold.” You chuckle, sinking onto the floor beside the couch, knees drawn up as you hug them close. The laughter is sharp, almost giddy, the sound foreign in the room that has held so many silences.

Ricky watches you, confusion settling into his features, the red on his cheeks fading as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You're acting weird,” he murmurs, the words half swallowed, uncertain.

“How am I acting weird if I'm seeing my husband show some attraction to me, which isn't platonic, for the first time?” The jest slips out, tinged with sincerity, but it brings a hush over both of you. The truth stands stark between you, glaring and painful. For a moment, neither of you speak, each of you weighed down by memories, by the heavy knowledge of what's been lost and what still aches to be found.

But determination flares in your chest, a stubborn warmth. So what if love had been absent before? So what if promises were half-kept and hearts guarded? You could start again. You could relearn how to be two flawed people willing to try. Your gaze meets Ricky's, the hope in your eyes unyielding.

Don't let go, you silently plead. Let this be the start of something real.

Ricky clears his throat, a subtle attempt to dissolve the tension settling over the living room like a blanket too heavy to lift. His fingers fidget, running nervously over the seam of the couch as he shifts his gaze downward. There you are, still seated on the floor, legs tucked to one side, eyes catching the soft glow from the TV. Cute, he thinks, the word rolling silently through his mind, too heavy with unsaid truths to speak aloud.

“So...” The word escapes him, thin and unfinished, hovering in the air. His eyes flit over your face, searching for a reaction. The awkwardness clings to the silence, but you don't falter.

“So?” you echo, your tone a notch steadier, holding the slight tremor that betrays your effort. You lean forward just slightly, a gesture that feels braver than it is. If courage could rewrite fate, you'd wield it now, not just for yourself, but for him. For Ricky, who might not know the sharp edge of reality that's cut you.

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side where the blue light paints his profile in soft, wavering lines. “You know... Semi's birthday is next week.” His words stumble, trailing off as if second-guessing their own existence. But you aren't in the dark. You know exactly what this moment leads to.

“Yes, I'd love to go shopping for gifts for her,” you respond, your voice quick and practiced. His eyes widen, caught off guard, the surprise stark against his usual composed expression. The tension in his jaw slackens, and he blinks, unsure if he heard you right.

“Excuse me?” He stares at you, the faint crease between his brows deepening.

“Isn't that what you were about to ask?” You tilt your head slightly, a small smile playing at your lips, testing him. He hesitates, realizing that denial means trouble, but his face softens into a relieved kind of acceptance.

“No, no... of course. You could... accompany me to shop for Semi's birthday presents.” His voice picks up, the uncertainty lifting as he finds the path back to normalcy. He notices your smile widening, the tension slipping just enough to let him breathe.

“Okay then, see you tomorrow, husband.” The word slips from you, unbidden, laced with a warmth that surprises even you as you turn on your heel. You make your way toward the guest room, feet padding softly against the floor. Ricky's brows knit again, eyes following your form until you pause, hand on the frame of the doorway.

“Why are you heading to the guest room?” His question is quick, a thread of confusion laced with something else-something vulnerable.

“Because we sleep apart, and I wouldn't want my husband's back to break on that stiff, rough bed. The sheets aren't even comfortable,” you say, voice light but with an edge that dares him to react. You step into the room, but glance over your shoulder with eyes that glimmer, a playful smirk pulling at your lips. “Besides, I'd rather you break your back or get tired doing me than struggling on a bed.”

His jaw drops, eyes wide with stunned silence as the door closes between you. Ricky sits back, eyes fixed on the now-empty hallway, replaying the moment in disbelief. The wife who barely spoke above a whisper at their wedding, who tiptoed through years of silence, had just turned the tables with a single teasing line. His pulse hammers beneath the stillness.

What on earth just happened?

“ARE YOU TELLING ME Y/N JUST TURNED INTO A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON?” Jay's voice, casual yet curious, echoes through the phone. He's speaking to Ricky, who shifts from foot to foot, eyes glancing around the boutique as he waits for you to finish picking out a dress for his niece. The sound of soft music drifts around him, mixing with murmurs of other shoppers.

“Exactly that!” Ricky’s voice comes out louder than intended, drawing looks from the store's staff. A woman in a sleek uniform, brows raised in disapproval, approaches with a pointed glare.

“Sir, please keep your voice down or refrain from talking altogether,” she says, sternly but professional.

Ricky's ears burn as embarrassment blooms across his face. “Yeah, I'm sorry” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Through the phone, Jay's laughter rings clear and unapologetic. “You seriously got told off by staff? Man, you're killing me!” Jay's chuckles fade into a smirk that Ricky can practically hear. Jay's the same as he's always been-playful, relentless, the older brother who teases but listens when it counts.

“Fine, fine, I'll stop. Tell me what you mean by Y/N changing, just... keep it PG, will you?” Jay's tone is teasing, but curiosity laces through.

Ricky’s jaw tightens, eyes scanning the store for you as if your sudden return would put him on the spot. “There's nothing intimate going on between us,” he blurts, the words a knee-jerk reaction. His chest tightens with the memory of you resting your hand on him in your sleep last week, the way warmth had crept through him then. He clears his throat. “I mean, she's talking to me more, being... sweet. She listens. It's almost... submissive.”

“I told you, no bedroom details!” Jay chimes in, sarcasm sharp enough to make Ricky's teeth clench.

“THIS IS NOT A BEDROOM DETAIL!!!” Ricky retorts, frustration coloring his tone. It earns him another hard look from the store associate across the room, who pointedly glances over her glasses. Ricky sighs and mouths an apology again, shoulders drooping as he lowers his voice.

“What I mean is, she's more... attentive. She's not arguing as much. It's like she's listening to me for the first time.”

Jay's voice softens, just a hint of seriousness slipping through. “Isn't that how she always is with others?”

“Yeah, with everyone else. Just not with me,” Ricky admits, the admission heavy with a history neither of them mention.

“Interesting.” Jay's reply is contemplative, but before he can say more, Ricky's voice interrupts, distorted through the line. “Oh shoot, she's coming back. I'll call you later.”

As the call ends, Ricky pockets his phone, glancing up just in time to see you walking back with a smile. Jay, on the other side of the city, sets his phone down, a smirk playing at his lips as he thinks of sharing this tidbit with his wife later. Whatever was happening between his brother and sister-in-law, it was about to get even more intriguing.

On the other side, Ricky stands, a mixture of amusement and curiosity on his face as you hold up a tiny pink dress. It's perfectly frilly, fit for a little girl. But all he can think is how charming it would look in a size for you—a thought that makes him shake his head, realizing how ridiculous it sounds.

“So, what do you think? Should I get this for Semi?” you ask, eyes sparkling with anticipation. There's already a growing collection of clothes for his niece in your arms, a reminder of how you've embraced being part of his family.

“Are you getting all of them?” he asks, more out of shock than judgment. He never imagined children's clothes could come with such hefty price tags.

“Yes, why? Is this too much? I can cover it if—”

Before you can finish, he interrupts, affronted. “I'll pay. It's for my lady, after all.”

The statement hangs in the air, not romantic as he'd intended but awkward, making your brows twitch slightly. You resist the urge to grimace, forcing a polite smile instead.

A staff member, the same one who had shushed Ricky earlier, walks over with an unimpressed expression, exchanging a silent, almost comic glare with him. She gave Ricky a look that said 'you're weird and I don't want to talk to you'

'what have I ever done to you' was the look that Ricky presented back to the staff before she looked away. You glance between them, slightly confused. Then Ricky clears his throat, moving the conversation forward.

“Do you have a similar dress in a bigger size?” His voice drops to almost a whisper. He feels self-conscious asking, but the idea has stuck.

The staff member blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?” She tilts her head, uncertain if she heard right.

“Yeah, do you have something like this,” Ricky gestures at the dress in your hands, “but, you know, for an adult?” A flush of red creeps across his cheeks as he points to you. The staff member nods after a moment, walking off to search, while you stand there stunned, watching her go.

“Why are you buying something for me? Semi’s dress is already pricey. A woman's size will be—”

“It's just a dress,” he interrupts with a small sigh, eyes softening. “Think of it as a gift.”

“But today isn't anything special.”

“Maybe not. But I'd like to make it special,” he replies, voice lowering. “I haven't given you anything since our wedding. That was four years ago.” His words carry a quiet vulnerability as he looks at you, taller and more serious than you expect. You hold his gaze before shifting and mumbling a reluctant, “Fine,” looking away to hide the way your cheeks warm.

The staff returns holding a similar dress, but in an adult size. It's pink, short, and undeniably cute-something that looks a little too daring for your style.

“Will this do?” she asks.

“Absolutely not,” “hell yeah,” you and Ricky say in unison. The staff's eyebrows raise as she turns to you, sensing you as the more level-headed one.

“We're not buying it,” you insist, giving Ricky a look.

He doubles down. “We are.”

“Ricky, no.”

“Why not?”

“It's too short!” you argue, exasperated. He shrugs, eyes softening as he counters, “It's knee-length. That's normal.”

With a dramatic sigh, you roll your eyes and give in. But you don't try it on in the store; the idea of wearing it in front of him makes your heart thud with a mix of nerves and embarrassment. After all, you've barely even shared a bed in weeks—how could you possibly show him a dress like that now?

RICKY’S HEART STOPS FOR A MOMENT AS HE TAKES IN THE SIGHT BEFORE HIM. You, standing in the baby pink dress that hugs your figure just right, with its soft fabric brushing just above your knees. The playful, shy smile you wear as you twirl slightly sends a wave of warmth through him. He never expected to see you like this; the reality strikes him so suddenly that it leaves him breathless.

The laughter of Semi fills the room as she runs around in her matching pink dress, giggling and pulling you along by the hand. The soft glow of the post-birthday celebration lights casts a golden hue, warming up the atmosphere in the living room. Ricky sits on the edge of the couch, one hand resting on his knee as he watches you and Semi, his gaze softening with an emotion he hasn't felt in what seems like ages.

A gentle nudge breaks his trance, and he turns to see his mother looking at him with raised brows and a hopeful gleam. “When are you two going to have kids?” she asks, her voice light but laced with longing.

The air in the room shifts. You pause mid-spin, eyes darting to Ricky with a look of surprise. This isn't part of the script of your past life; this question throws you off balance, the sudden attention making your heart race.

Ricky’s father, seated across with a glass of wine in his hand, lets out a dramatic sigh. “I think I'll be long gone before I see any grandchildren from this one,” he jokes, though the weight behind it is unmistakable. The statement slices through the room's cheerful mood, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Ricky's jaw tightens, a subtle tension creeping up his spine. He wants kids too, he really does—but not in a house that feels as unstable as theirs has become.

Before he can respond, you surprise everyone, including yourself. “We're trying,” you say, the words slipping out with practiced ease, even as your pulse pounds. The room freezes, all eyes turning toward you in shock.

Ricky’s eyebrows lift in silent question, but he plays along, shifting to put on an unreadable expression. He nods, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he covers the uncertainty boiling beneath. The room shifts back into a mixture of excitement and surprise.

“Is that true? You're both trying?” Ricky’s mother's eyes glisten, her hope rekindled as she looks between you and her son.

“Really?” Ricky's father echoes, leaning forward, his earlier sarcasm replaced by genuine interest.

Jay, standing near the fireplace, furrows his brow, lips parting in disbelief. Only last week, Ricky had confided in him about how distant and weird things had become between you two.

Ricky forces a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... we've been trying for a while.” The lie feels heavy in his mouth, and he shoots you a look that says, Why'd you lie about that?

Your sister-in-law, Jieun, raises her hand, pointing at you with wide eyes. “Since when?” she blurts out, unable to contain her shock.

Ricky stutters, “It's been a-a month,” the answer sounding rehearsed yet shaky. He glances at you again, his eyes pleading for an explanation that won't come.

The conversation quickly shifts into an excited buzz, with well-meaning wishes from your in-laws filling the air. You catch Ricky's gaze, and despite the tight-lipped smile you give the family, there's a flicker of humor in your eyes. The absurdity of it all makes you want to laugh.

You both know the truth: the notion of trying for a child is impossibly far from reality.

Heck, it was funny for you to watch.

You were still a virgin. You two didn't even kiss more than once in those four years and they expect a baby to suddenly pop out of you?

And once the party winds down, you find yourself sitting on the couch with Semi by your side. Her wide, curious eyes shine with excitement as she swings her legs back and forth. At just four years old, she's a bundle of endless questions and innocent wonder.

You smile, reaching over to gently ruffle her soft, dark hair. “Does the birthday girl like her dress?” you ask, voice playful.

Semi beams, glancing down at the pink ruffled dress with pride. “It's so pretty,” she chirps, then looks up at you with a thoughtful expression. “But yours is prettier. You always look pretty, Aunty.”

Your heart melts, and you chuckle softly. “Aww, you learned how to give compliments, huh?” you tease, watching as her cheeks turn rosy and she averts her gaze to fiddle with her fingers.

“Aunty!” she whines, wanting you to stop teasing. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans in closer and motions for you to do the same. With a curious tilt of your head, you move closer, letting her whisper into your ear. “Will you eat a baby to have a baby?” she asks, voice so serious it makes you freeze for a moment.

You stifle a laugh, your eyes crinkling at the edges. Gently cupping her cheek, you whisper back, “No, sweetie. That's not how it works. But that's grown-up stuff, and we don't talk about it now, do we?”

Semi giggles, her little fingers playing with a toy she received from her grandmother. The sight makes your chest tighten in a bittersweet way. You can almost picture your mother-in-law doting on a future child, fussing over toys and tiny clothes. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, making you shake your head lightly as if to dispel the image.

But a small part of you can't help but smile at the idea, a blush rising to your cheeks. The dream is distant, almost unreachable, and not yet yours to claim.

When you and Ricky step out into the cold night, the air nips at your exposed legs below your knees. The dress he had picked out for you, delicate and pastel pink, offers little warmth, and the heels are beginning to pinch with every step. You trail behind him, taking careful, aching strides to avoid twisting your ankle.

Ricky notices, stopping suddenly to turn toward you, eyes scanning your shivering frame. “What’s wrong?” His gaze softens as he realizes how exposed you are, legs trembling from the chill. Without hesitating, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth is welcome, but your teeth still chatter as you mutter, “Wish I had something covering my legs instead.”

He exhales, half exasperated, half amused, before a wry smile forms. “Should I carry you like a princess? You’d be warm then.”

Surprised, you bite back a retort, matching his teasing tone with confidence. “Maybe you should.”

Ricky’s eyebrows shoot up, stunned. “Wait, what?”

“Chill, I was just joking,” you mumble, looking down at the ground. But before you know it, he’s stopped again, this time dropping to one knee. Your eyes widen in shock. “WHAT THE HELL?” you blurt out, stepping back in reflex, heat rising to your cheeks at the unexpected gesture. (more so because you believed he was trying to look up your dress)

Ricky looks up, mildly annoyed but patient. “I’m helping you,” he says simply. Before you can argue, he pulls out a pair of slippers from a little carry bag he had brought from home. The realization hits, softening your expression as he glances up. “Lift your leg.”

You comply, feeling foolish for your earlier outburst. He slips the heels off your feet and replaces them with the soft slippers, careful and precise as if proving he has no ulterior motive. The chill in the air suddenly seems less biting.

“You had these the whole time?” you ask, voice softer now, eyes wide with realization. He places the heels into the carry bag, stands up, and meets your gaze with a smirk.

“Yeah. Thought you might need them,” he says, a hint of smugness in his tone. You’re about to thank him when he reminds you with a mock-accusing look, “And you were ready to accuse me of being a pervert.”

The memory makes you feel small, but you muster a sheepish, “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, a touch of amusement in his eyes as the two of you start walking again, your steps now confident and comfortable. His jacket around your shoulders holds a warmth that seems to seep straight to your heart.

“So...” Ricky’s voice cuts through the silence, the question you've been dreading finally arriving. “Why did you lie about... us trying for a baby?” His tone is cautious, probing.

You sigh, the answer already clear in your mind. “It was the only way to get them to stop bothering us,” you admit. A pause follows, your gaze flitting up to meet his. You don’t dare to say more, not with your secret burden looming—coming from a future where he is no longer alive and your mission is to keep him safe.

Ricky hums in agreement, the tension easing a bit. “I can’t argue with that.” A comfortable silence settles between you, only broken by the sound of your footsteps. He glances at you again and asks, “Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, your stomach grumbles. Relief flashes across his face before he reaches out, taking your hand and leading you forward. The two of you approach a small, tucked-away restaurant, its sign faded but familiar. Ricky’s eyes light up. “You have to try the cold coffee from that café across the street,” he points out, the fondness in his voice unmistakable.

You nod, memories flickering back. His odd, endearing preferences were things you never forgot. “Fish curry with plain rice and some shrimp on the side?” you guess, eyes twinkling with recognition.

Ricky’s head snaps to you, surprise clear as day. He stares, a laugh escaping him as he shakes his head. “Since when did you start memorizing my favorites?”

You had heard about his fav things to eat from your brother in law, Jay. But Ricky never said it to you himself so the boy was pretty much stunned when you literally memorised them, as if you were waiting to flex this whole time.

You offer a small, knowing smile. “I have my ways.”

The waiter arrives promptly with your orders, and the rich aroma fills the space between you and Ricky. He takes a bite, but pauses, eyes drifting to you with a soft, contemplative expression. “We’ve never done this before…” he murmurs, his tone a mix of realization and gentle amusement.

You tilt your head, savoring a piece of shrimp. “You mean this date?” you ask, half-smiling.

“Yeah. I guess that’s what I mean,” he replies, taking a moment before continuing, as if gathering the courage. “I like it. I like how we are now.” He takes a sip of water, and the way he watches you is tender, raw. His hand slides across the table to rest over yours, fingers warm against your skin.

“I don’t know what changed, but I…” He hesitates, eyes locking with yours, a profound intensity that silences you. “I like how we’re not avoiding each other anymore, how we talk instead of fighting over every little thing.”

The sincerity in his words pierces through you, tugging at memories of a future where his absence left a hollow ache in your chest. The pain you’d carried, the distance, the loss—all of it feels heavy in this moment, but now, something else unfurls within you. An unexpected warmth that swells as his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

He draws in a shaky breath. “I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes, maybe too many, and that’s why we kept drifting apart in those four years we were married. But I want us to stay like this. Is that too much to ask for?” His voice cracks, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The depth of emotion he shows takes your breath away, and your vision blurs as your own tears spill over. The raw honesty in his confession reaches a part of you that had long been buried under grief and guilt. But this isn’t grief—it’s something different, a warmth that wraps around you and fills the spaces that loss once consumed.

“Ricky…” you whisper, voice trembling. He blinks rapidly, tears tracing paths down his cheeks as he tries to manage a laugh, a hand lifting to wipe at his face. “Did I go too overboard?” he chuckles, awkwardly, brushing his fingers over yours, an attempt to ease the intensity.

But you can’t answer with words, your heart too full. Instead, you wipe your own tears away, watching him as he takes a deep breath and resumes eating, eyes still red-rimmed, his emotions raw and vivid between you. The silence that follows is... a little satisfying this time around. Your chest tightens, and you realize this feeling—this unexpected, overwhelming tenderness—is the spark you hadn’t felt in what feels like forever.

The confession... It did something to you. It made you feel things or you believed so.

You reach for his hand, this time without hesitation, and hold on as if anchoring both of you to this moment. A shared glance tells him everything you can’t yet put into words: you’re here, with him, and for now, that’s enough.

AS THE DAYS PASSED FOLLOWING THAT UNEXPECTED DINNER, a subtle shift had occurred between you and Ricky. It had been a month since then, and despite your hectic lives—you, a dedicated nurse, and him, an ambitious lawyer—something had changed. You continued to sleep separately, a necessity due to your conflicting schedules. Late nights saw you returning home to find Ricky already asleep, and early mornings had him leaving before you awoke. This unspoken arrangement was born out of mutual respect for each other’s rest.

However, the reminder of the future haunted you. The date on your wrist, November 4th, hadn’t faded or smudged. It remained stark and vivid, a grim reminder of the fate you knew awaited Ricky, filling you with silent dread.

Despite your busy lives, the dinner at that small restaurant had stirred something unspoken between you. A shared tenderness had taken root, and in the brief pauses between work, you found yourself drawn to those moments that whispered of possibilities—moments that spoke of a bond that hadn’t existed before.

The room feels charged with an unspoken tension as you stand there, watching Ricky. The question slips from your lips, “Are we sleeping separately again?” masking the tremble in your voice with an attempt at confidence. Ricky’s eyes meet yours, an amused smile playing on his lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want to sleep with me?” he asks, casual yet knowing.

You stammer, trying to find an answer that won’t reveal how vulnerable you feel. “No—yes—but—” The uncertainty in your voice makes him chuckle softly, the sound sending warmth through your chest. The realization of your feelings for him washes over you again, clear and inescapable.

“It’s normal to want to sleep with your husband. Don’t worry,” he says reassuringly. His tone is light, yet there’s an edge of tenderness as he turns and walks to the bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, looking back with an expectant eyebrow raise, and you follow.

Inside, the dim light casts soft shadows. The atmosphere feels different tonight, heightened by the realization that, while you’ve shared this space before, this moment feels profoundly intimate. He hesitates for a moment, the usual playful confidence in his manner replaced by a quiet consideration.

Should he lie down first?

Wait for you?

Or speak?

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. We could even put a pillow between us if you prefer,” he says in a rush, trying to ease the tension. But his words leave you both flushed. You respond, flustered yet honest, “No—you can touch me—I mean...”

Ricky’s eyes widen, and a surprised silence falls over you both, broken only by your slightly quickened breaths.

Finally, you break it, murmuring, “So... do we sleep?” You wish the dim light hides your expression, but Ricky’s shifting on the bed signals that he’s as unsettled as you are. He lies down first, and you follow, settling into the bed with a space that feels simultaneously too close and too distant.

Minutes pass as the darkness deepens around you. You’re aware of every sound, every breath he takes, and the slight rustle of sheets as you both try to find comfort. The knowledge that he’s staying dressed out of respect doesn’t escape you, and neither does the chill that seeps through the room, despite the blanket. It’s enough to make sleep elusive, even as your heart drums with quiet, unspoken hope.

The air feels thick with tension as neither of you can fall asleep, despite the dim light and the shared silence. Ricky gently sits up, his voice breaking the stillness. “I’ll get changed into my night clothes—this is uncomfortable. You should get changed too,” he suggests. His words are practical, but they stir a shyness inside you. The thought of wearing shorts around him makes you feel self-conscious, though the blanket and darkness give you some comfort.

With a deep breath, you agree. You grab your oversized top and shorts, retreating to the bathroom to change. When you return, Ricky is already asleep, dressed in a soft T-shirt and shorts. His peaceful expression makes a pang of guilt settle in your chest. You feel both relief and unease at the same time, knowing he’s so close yet so far away.

You lie there, tense in the stillness of the night. Ricky’s hand lands instinctively on your stomach, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. You hold your breath, carefully shifting his hand away. Just when you think you're safe, his leg shifts under the blanket, pressing gently between your legs. A rush of heat floods your chest as you gently push his leg away, silently exhaling in relief.

In the quiet, you watch him sleep. His messy hair, a small trail of drool escaping his lips—something inside you stirs. Without thinking, you bring your thumb to wipe away the drool, brushing it lightly against your shirt. You stare at him for a moment, your heart racing in ways you can’t fully understand.

For Ricky though,

He wakes to find you so close, your noses nearly touching. A small breath escapes him as he pulls back, but then he notices your body, curled into him—one of your legs and arms wrapped around him, as if clinging to his warmth to escape the cold. You’re nestled so comfortably against his chest, and though a small part of him wants to get up, he finds himself content in the moment.

He stares at you, watching as he slips his fingers through your hair, the quiet intimacy settling around him like a comforting blanket. When you stir, half-awake, he expects you to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you bury yourself further into his chest, and he smiles, a little amused by your unconscious need for closeness.

“Morning... Baby,” he says softly, though he’s hoping you’ll move just enough for him to slip out of bed.

“Morningg,” you murmur, nuzzling his chest. He notices how you don’t seem to mind the nickname, a small sign that you’re still in that dreamy, sleepy state. He wants to pull away, but he doesn't want to disturb you, so he asks, “Can you move a bit, baby?”

You barely stir, your arms and legs still tangled with his. “Too cold,” you mumble, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I know, baby. I’ll turn the heater on for you, is that good?” he whispers, his voice tender. He’s careful not to wake you fully, knowing you won’t even remember this when you wake up.

An hour later, you wake up alone in the bed, the soft comforter still wrapped around your legs. You stretch and yawn, rubbing your eyes, only to hear the door creak open. Ricky stands there, a plate in hand—an omelette and a fruit salad. You blink, unsure if you’re still dreaming, and pinch your cheek, just to make sure this isn’t some figment of your imagination.

“What's that?” you ask, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Breakfast in bed,” Ricky says with a playful grin, setting the plate down in front of you.

“For me?” you ask, surprised and touched.

“Who else?” he replies with a shrug, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“Why...?” You blink at him, unsure of why he's being so considerate, so affectionate.

“Why not?” he answers, teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart flutter.

You stare at the food in front of you, but the nerves kick in. “Well, uhm... I haven’t brushed.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, waving off your concerns.

“No, it’s not. It’s gross. I do care about germs,” you argue, a bit embarrassed. Before he can say anything else, you rush off to brush your teeth, feeling a little self-conscious. You quickly freshen up, brushing your teeth with the toothpaste, hoping that’ll help with the lingering awkwardness.

When you return, you take a bite, and the emotion hits you harder than you expect. You don’t quite know why, but the tenderness of his gesture fills you with gratitude, and a soft lump forms in your throat.

“Why?” you ask again, your voice shaky, as you sip some water. The question has been swirling in your mind ever since you saw him standing there, holding that plate.

“Hm?” he hums, genuinely confused, not fully understanding why you're so emotional.

“Why are you being so nice... and romantic?” You wince after speaking, regretting your words, but you can't take them back now.

Ricky tilts his head, his smile fading slightly. “Like I said a month ago... I meant those words. I want us to stay like this... And not go back to how it was in those four years.. Are we really that immature to let it happen again?” The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard, and for a moment, you can see the hurt in his eyes.

It's raw, honest, and you feel a knot twist in your chest, not having a reply to his genuine question.

THE DAYS AND MONTHS THAT FOLLOW ARE UNEXPECTEDLY TENDER, filled with moments that remind you of what being husband and wife is meant to feel like. The shared smiles, lingering touches, and quiet mornings are sweeter than they have ever been, and for the first time in a long while, peace seems attainable. Yet, there is an undercurrent that stirs beneath it all—the date that looms, casting a shadow over your contentment.

November 4th.

With the month drawing nearer, your heart starts to tighten with an anxious grip. Paranoia seeps into the quiet moments, the fear of what November 4th could mean—what it has meant in the past—makes the days feel more fragile. Your mind races, replaying scenarios and doubts that you can’t shake off. Each sweet gesture, each kind word from him, is tinged with the knowledge that the date approaches, threatening to unravel everything you’ve rebuilt.

Ricky’s expression is heavy with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes hinting at the long day he’s had. You offer, “I’ll heat up the dinner,” and turn toward the kitchen, but he stops you with a gentle grasp around your wrist. Before you can react, he pulls you back, pressing you against the wall. The soft strains of a romantic song drift from the living room, creating an intimate, almost fragile atmosphere.

He’s close—closer than usual—and you feel the warmth radiating from his body as well as the subtle scent of his cologne. The proximity sends your pulse racing.

“Ricky?” you say softly, confusion lacing your voice as you look up at him. His face is unreadable, the dim lighting casting a shadow over the tired lines of his features. His eyes meet yours, carrying an unspoken emotion.

“Mm?” he murmurs, his voice hushed, as if not to disturb the moment. His hands find their way around you, holding you securely against him, and he leans his chin on your head. The gesture feels protective, desperate even.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your words barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re seeking clarification or reassurance. His embrace tightens for a moment, and you feel his chest rise and fall against yours as he takes a deep breath.

“Can you stop calling me Ricky?” he says quietly, the request landing softly, yet weighted.

Surprise flashes through you. “What do you want me to call you?” you ask, voice muffled against his shirt. The question feels vulnerable, as if shifting something fundamental between you both.

“I don’t know... something like... baby, darling, honey... or anything,” he admits, a subtle flush spreading across his cheeks despite the solemn tone. You catch the shy dip of his eyes, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re being quite demanding,” you tease, looking up into his face. His lips part slightly as he considers your words.

“This isn’t being demanding,” he counters, pausing just long enough for the silence to underline his meaning. His eyes search yours, raw and full of an unnamed plea. “I just want to spend my last months with you, thinking we’re just... normal. Like any other couple.”

His words sink in, bringing with them an ache that spreads through your chest. The silence that follows is heavy, laced with all the things unsaid and the truth that’s pressing in on both of you. You lift a hand, letting your fingers brush the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes soften, dark lashes casting shadows against his skin as he watches you.

There’s something fragile in this moment, a bittersweet understanding passing between you that makes your throat tighten. The future looms, uncertain and unkind, but for now, you’re here, held close, suspended in the tender present.

Ricky’s voice lowers, a tremor in its depths that betrays the weight of his words. “You might not believe me, but... I come from a reality where I’m dead. So, I hope we can at least be nice to each other in my last moments. Can you do that?”

A stunned silence follows, your breath catching in your throat as his confession hangs in the air. You believe him; how could you not when you come from the same reality? Eyes widening, you step back, raising your wrist to show the dark, unerasable mark: November 4th. The ink-like number seems to pulse, a constant reminder of a fate that binds you both.

Ricky’s eyes mirror your shock. He releases you, just enough to reveal his own wrist. There it is, the same haunting date. The mark seems alive, almost mocking, as if counting down with every heartbeat.

Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence heavy with shared grief and realization. The next second, you’re in his arms again, your face buried in his chest as he pulls you close, his own face pressed into your hair. The world around you blurs, reduced to the rapid thumping of your heart and the warmth of his embrace.

“I... please don’t... leave me this time,” you plead, your voice breaking under the weight of your fear. The memory of finding him lifeless in the world you came from, the coldness of that reality, rushes back with a cruel force.

“I will try,” he whispers, his voice barely steady as he runs a hand down your back in a soothing gesture. “We changed the relationship, right? So maybe... just maybe, we can avoid death too.”

You both stand there, unmoving as the moment stretches out. It feels absurd, two souls transported from a fractured future, now clinging to each other in the present in a fragile hope. Yet the thought of letting go is unbearable, so you don’t. For now, the reality of the present is enough.

RICKY’S FINGERS TREMBLE SLIGHTLY AS HE HOLDS OUT THE SMALL BOX, A HINT OF NERVOUSNESS CREASING HIS BROW. “This is for you.” His voice is softer than usual, his eyes searching yours for a response. The box is familiar, a relic from the present you left behind, steeped in memories. Inside is the ancestral ring, one that Ricky’s mother entrusted to you after his death—a token that held more value than any wedding ring could.

“I wasn’t... couldn’t give it to you before, but now... I’d like you to have it.” His voice is almost a whisper as he takes your hand, slipping the cool metal onto your finger. His touch lingers, warm and careful, as if anchoring the moment between you.

You look down at the ring, its delicate design catching the dim light and glistening softly. The weight of it brings back a rush of memories that mix grief with an unexpected warmth. Meeting his gaze, you let a small, genuine smile curve your lips. “Thank you. After you… I mean, after your death, your mother gave it to me,” you say, voice thick with the past, “but I’m glad it’s you giving it to me now.”

The way his eyes widen before softening speaks volumes—acceptance, regret, and hope, all blending seamlessly as he draws you closer.

Ricky’s expression shifts, a soft smile forming as he leans in, his body pressing yours gently against the bedroom wall. His breath mingles with yours, warm and scented faintly with his cologne. His eyes trace your features, holding a glimmer of something tender and fragile. You raise a brow in playful defiance, a silent challenge, and a sheepish smile tugs at his lips. Without another word, he cups your face, his thumb grazing your cheek, and leans in until the space between you disappears.

The first touch of his lips is tentative, testing. A shiver races down your spine as his mouth moves with a gentleness that makes your heart stutter. Your eyes flutter open for a second, catching the serene expression on his face before closing again as you respond, deepening the kiss. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to reality.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing in short, uneven gasps. The room is silent except for the soft crackle of a song playing somewhere in the background. Ricky’s eyes open, and in them, you see a question—a hesitation laced with anticipation. “Do you want to go further?” His voice, barely above a whisper, holds a vulnerability that makes your pulse quicken.

You exhale softly, a hint of a smile teasing your lips as you match his boldness. “How far can you go?” The playful edge in your voice makes him chuckle, low and breathy.

“As far as you want to go.” The words are a promise, and before you can respond, his lips capture yours again, more confident this time, as his hand moves to the strap of your dress, gently sliding it off of your shoulders.

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASS IN A COMFORTING CALM, the bond between you and Ricky strengthening with each passing day. You're no longer weighed down by the regret of the past, but instead, you focus on cherishing the present. Yet, there's still a lingering unease.

Ricky driving the car is something that continues to gnaw at you. It's not just a simple fear; it's the haunting memory of the future you came from, where that very action led to his tragic end. As November nears, the pressure builds. You look at the date on your wrist—November 4th—and the thought of losing him again, of it becoming reality, is too much to bear. Your chest tightens, and you feel a mix of helplessness and dread, hoping with every fiber of your being that this time, things will be different.

Ricky offers a reassuring smile, the kind that tries to mask his own unease as he softly says, “Chill, I’ll be back in an hour, alright?” His hand moves up to gently smooth your hair, eyes soft with understanding as he takes in the worry etched across your face. You cling tighter to his arm, voice trembling as you ask, “Is it important?”

He nods, and the hopeful part of you crumbles. The instinct to keep him close, to refuse, is almost overwhelming. But before you can protest, he leans forward, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. His hands slip down to rest on your shoulders as he looks at you earnestly.

“I promise I’ll be back. Now, will my pretty wife give me a smile so I can come back even sooner?” The playful plea tugs at your lips, and despite the fear swirling inside, you manage a small, forced smile. He chuckles softly, ruffling your hair before turning to leave.

You trail behind him to the door, eyes glued to the taillights of his car as they fade down the street. The ache in your chest sharpens, and you glance down at the ancestral ring on your finger, tracing its smooth surface as if the touch alone could make your wish come true: Please, come back safely.

The minutes stretch painfully long, and every ten minutes, you can’t resist sending a text, the same anxious message: “If you’re okay, just send a heart emoji.” True to his word, Ricky replies with a heart every time—until the fifty-minute mark.

The silence is deafening. Your heart thunders as you stare at your phone, willing the screen to light up. Nothing. The dread coils tighter, stealing the air from your lungs. You take a shaky breath, but it barely settles you. Panic sets in, and you hit the call button. The phone doesn’t connect; the ring tone never plays. Your chest tightens.

In desperation, you call Jay, your brother-in-law. His voice is laced with confusion as he picks up. “Jay, is Ricky with you?” The silence that follows your frantic question only amplifies your fear. “No, why? What’s going on?” he asks, suddenly serious. Before you can answer, he cuts the call, sensing the urgency and attempting to help in any way he can.

The next hour drags like an eternity, your anxiety swallowing every rational thought. You pace the room, eyes darting to the clock, phone clenched in your shaking hand. Then, after what feels like a lifetime, you hear the distant purr of an engine. Your pulse stutters as Ricky’s car comes into view, whole and unharmed.

But you don’t relax. Not until you see him. The door swings open, and there he is, frustration etched into his features as he steps inside. Your breath catches, relief and anger colliding within you.

Ricky's expression softens as he speaks, keeping his voice low despite the frustration. “Why’d you call Jay over something like this? My phone died while I was working. I charged it and got caught up in the case. It’s embarrassing.”

Your eyes well up, the weight of worry turning to a sting of hurt. “So? It’s not important?” Your voice wavers, raw with emotion. “I was terrified, Ricky! I didn’t want to lose you again. Sorry for being the clingy wife you’re ashamed of.”

Turning to leave, you barely make a step before he’s there, blocking your path. His eyes search yours, but instead of a defensive remark, he pulls you close, enveloping you in an embrace that tells you more than words could. His arms tighten, anchoring you to him as he murmurs in your ear, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s strange, but I promise I won’t say that again, okay?”

His breath is warm against your hair as he leans his cheek on your head, his heartbeat steady against your own erratic one. Despite the tension, you sense his understanding, a silent acknowledgment of your fear. He’s learning to hold your worry without judgment.

“I was so scared, Ricky. I thought I’d lose you all over again.” Your voice cracks, and he feels the tremor in your body. He wants to say the right thing, anything to soothe the tremble in your words, but all he can do is hold you tighter.

Both of you are haunted by that date imprinted on your wrists, “November 4th.” A reminder that looms like an uninvited shadow, a constant whisper of what could happen.

THE DAY ARRIVES, a heavy silence filling the air between you and Ricky. His promise lingers like a protective shield around you both: he won’t drive, he won’t leave. His presence is a balm for the fear that pulses in your chest. As the two of you snuggle on the couch, the soft glow of the TV playing a rom-com, you turn to him with a worried look, your voice low and unsure.

“What if something bad happens while we’re in the house?” you whisper, nuzzling into his warmth. The thought of losing him, of the world continuing without him, feels unbearable.

Ricky shifts, his arm wrapping tighter around you as he looks down at you, his breath warm against your neck. “Nothing will happen. And if it does, I’ll protect you,” he assures, his tone strong and sure, though his own heart is heavy. He knows how much your fear weighs on you, and he wants to shoulder it for you.

But the thought of you living without him—he can’t imagine it. He brushes your hair from your face gently, his voice a soft promise. “I love you too much for that.” His words come out naturally, like it’s something he’s been holding back but feels right now to say. It’s the first time you hear him say it, and the weight of those words floods your heart with warmth, knowing this is real.

“I get it. I won’t put my life at risk,” he murmurs, though there’s a quiet uncertainty in his words, an unspoken truth that he would never let anything harm you—even at the cost of his own safety.

You glance up at him, your lips pressing together in a worried frown. “You better not,” you mumble, not able to let go of the fear completely. You’ve spent the whole day together, in the safety of your home, trying to ignore the impending dread that the date will pass and nothing will change. Watching TV, cooking together, each small moment a reminder of how much he means to you—and how fragile life can be.

You curl up closer to him, as if physically wrapping yourself around him can keep him safe. Your eyes glance at the clock, the seconds ticking by too slowly. Every moment spent together now feels like a treasure, and you want to hold on to it forever.

The two of you lie in bed, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a gentle warmth over your forms. His hand rests tenderly over yours, fingers interlocking. He watches you as you sleep, your face relaxed, peaceful. A quiet whisper escapes his lips: “I love you.” His eyes linger on your peaceful expression, your other arm still clinging to him as if you’re unwilling to let go even in sleep.

He leans over to turn off the lamp, and then his gaze falls to his wrist—where the date once was. It’s gone. A wave of disbelief washes over him. The tension that has gripped him for so long begins to melt away. Perhaps it wasn’t an omen after all, but a reminder that after November 4th, a new chapter awaited them both.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your wrist to find the same thing: no date. Relief floods him, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling you even closer into his arms, savoring the moment.

But he knows, as much as this moment feels like a new beginning, there will still be challenges ahead. The fear you carry about him driving is not something that will fade overnight. Your worry, rooted in a past he knows you can’t shake, will take time to heal. But for now, he holds you close, understanding, and promises silently that he’ll be patient, allowing you to find peace in your own time.

TWO MONTHS HAVE PASSED SINCE THE FATEFUL DATE, and though life has taken you and Ricky through different stages, there’s an undeniable warmth between the two of you. Sitting at the family dinner table, surrounded by loved ones, the air is filled with laughter, conversation, and the quiet hum of joy.

Semi, now a cheerful five-year-old, eats her meal quietly, occasionally looking up with shy glances.

You glance over at Ricky, noticing him take a deep breath as he prepares to speak, his hand resting on the table near yours. It’s clear he’s nervous, even though it’s just family. He clears his throat, the words finally tumbling out: “So… We’re having a baby.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Ricky’s father scoffs, not giving him an ounce of reaction, while his mother rolls her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, you can fool us one time, not twice,” she says, clearly referencing the last family dinner, where you had tried to casually mention trying for a baby, only for him to play along. He felt the blame was entirely on him, but you knew the truth—it was a team effort.

You chuckle softly to yourself, leaning into Ricky’s side, your heart fluttering at the thought of a new life, a new chapter. He meets your gaze, his lips curving into a small smile, even amidst the teasing.

This moment, while filled with playful mockery, marks something deeper. You’re finally here together, stronger and more united than ever before. And this new adventure? It’s the start of a new journey that no one can take from you.

“Really, Y/n’s pregnant. We're having a baby,” Ricky says, his voice laced with excitement. His mother, skeptical, eyes you closely. “Is that true?”

Without waiting for Ricky’s confirmation, you nod, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours beneath the table, his touch calming your nerves.

"I won’t hesitate to beat your ass if this is fake," his dad grumbles, irritation mixing with a hint of hope.

Jay, barely containing his amusement at the scene, watches the family react, while Ricky proudly pulls out the ultrasound pictures, revealing the truth. His parents take turns looking at the images, jaws dropping in surprise. Jay, knowing already, can’t help but chuckle.

"Father was starting to question your masculinity. Glad you proved him wrong," Jay teases, earning a gentle nudge from Jieun, urging him to keep it light.

"Wait... So there’s a grandkid on the way?" Ricky’s mother recovers first, grinning with hopeful excitement. Ricky nods, and your heart swells at the thought of everything that's to come. This moment, this family, it feels like the beginning of something truly special.

Ricky’s mother leans forward, still processing, but the excitement is slowly bubbling up. “A grandchild? Really? My little boy having a little one? I’m going to spoil that baby so much.”

Ricky chuckles, glancing at you. “Well, you already spoil Semi enough, so I guess it’s fair.”

“Hey, I’m a great grandma-in-training,” she quips, giving Semi an affectionate pat. “But if you two need any advice, I’m here.”

Your heart swells seeing the warmth in her eyes. But then, Ricky’s dad, clearly trying to keep his cool, mutters, “I’ll believe it when I see a baby in my arms.”

“You’ll see him,” Ricky says, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Or her, right, Y/n?”

You smile, feeling the weight of the moment. “Definitely,” you whisper, feeling a rush of emotion.

Jay, still grinning, can’t help but poke at his younger brother. “So, what’s the plan, huh? You two gonna have one of those perfect Pinterest-worthy baby showers or just skip the whole thing?”

Jieun smacks his arm lightly. “Don’t make them nervous, Jay. Let them enjoy the moment.”

Ricky laughs, looking over at you with that same loving gaze. “Honestly, I think we just need to take it one step at a time. But yeah, we’ll get there.”

“You know, when you have a baby, you’ll see just how much you need each other,” his dad says more seriously now, a rare moment of wisdom breaking through his tough exterior. “It’s not just about being a parent, it’s about being there for each other even more.”

Ricky nods, his hand tightening around yours as if to say, “I’ve got you, always.”

The whole family seems to settle into a comfortable silence after that, everyone soaking in the news in their own way, but all of them sharing the same unspoken bond.

“Guess we’ll need one more chair for next time,” Jay jokes, breaking the silence, and everyone bursts out laughing.

You glance at Ricky, his eyes full of joy, and your heart feels fuller than it ever has. There’s something about being surrounded by family—being with him—that feels right. “Yeah, we’ll need one more chair,” Ricky agrees softly, his gaze drifting to the future, to the family that’s just beginning.

In the end, you and Ricky had proven the vows true—til death do us part. Through all the challenges, fears, and moments of doubt, you had always found your way back to each other. The promises made, the trust built, and the love that had endured everything now stood as a testament to what you had together. With every touch, every shared laugh, and every quiet moment, you knew that no matter what, your hearts were bound—for life—and beyond.

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[dawnoftime22]

coming back home.

| T.S

Warnings: anticipatory/repetitive worrying, anxiety, mention of R not eating because of anxiety (but have eaten a meal a few hours before), R nibbling on lip and getting gently scolded by tay, heart stopping (soft and too cute) messages, and more focused on R until the end

Summary: Taylor had been away on tour, and today was the day she was coming back, but upon your waiting of her plane, you get worried.

Word Count: 3.7k

Category: fluff! hurt/comfort (if you squint)

A/N: we're gonna have to pretend Taylor doesn't have a private jet in this one, or that its a time before she ever had one...

| Started on 01/07/2024, 9:46 PM |

| Finished on 04/10/2024, 11:06 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

"The worries, coming like a storm, but may they pass, in time."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

The car hummed as you unbuckled your seatbelt, checking that you had everything you needed before you went to get out to the parking lot. For the very moment, it was only you, and your phone keeping you company.

But today was the day. The day where Taylor was coming back home from her tour, after days of facetiming and watching her through videos and screens, you were finally going to see her again, to hold her and give her affection. The are you had driven to was the airport, your feet currently stepping upon the open parking lot of the airport ground.

The birds were chirping, and crows were flying back to their homes within a flock, the same as the people that was walking around, either with their friend or with their family.

You grab your phone from your pocket, opening up your direct messages to see if Taylor's texted you anything. There were no new messages, but you couldn't help but linger on the ones she had sent while you were at the house earlier, your heart swelling at the sight.

<- Back Tay<3 Facetime

Hey! I'm on the bridge, on the way to the plane. Gonna be in soon.

Hope you're taking care of yourself<3

Meet you when I arrive?

Hey love :] I'll be there to pick you up.

What time will the plane be down?

I think...in maybe about three hours or so...

Are the cats doing okay??

Why are you so far away from me? I miss you

too much to wait that long :(

Are the cats doing okay??

╭┈┈┈┈╯

Yes, they are, don't worry<3

Aw, I miss you too, sweetheart...

I'm gonna give you all the hugs and kisses and cuddles to make up for our time okay?

I LOOOOOVEEEE you!!! mwah!! ❤️❤️

Read at 4:56 PM

With a soft smile on your face, you enter the airport, looking up from your phone to see the crowds of people, filling the space. You took a deep breath, and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

You should have been used to it by now, you thought, but the amount of people that could surround you at any given moment was still a little frightening.

Of course, you weren't a celebrity who's used to being in public in such a way. You were only the lover of someone who's basically the figure of the music industry, but there was still the smallest risk for someone to recognize you, leading up to the mustering of a crowd. But you gave yourself all the encouragement you could, just for Taylor.

As you walk through, you kept yourself in small cover, wearing a cap tilted forward just slightly. Every person passing by or standing near was further making your anxiety levels heighten, but it wasn't all that bad once you remembered to put on your earphones. The music calmed down your heart, and distracted you from everything else, just a little.

The sound of the announcer echoes through the area, coming from the speakers propped up high in the airport. Your eyes traveled through the space, taking in how large it was.

There were some trinket shops, for the tourists that were visiting the very place you live in, while the other spots are for snacks and meals, but those didn't really gravitate your body towards them.

Once you catch sight of a bakery though, you didn't hesitate a single step to turn over to it, changing your path and taking the chance to grab a sweet treat for both you and Taylor.

As you opened the door and the bell lightly rang, you noticed that it wasn't packed at all. In fact, it was empty...a stark contrast to the amount of human bodies you were once surrounded by, just earlier.

The bakery was cozy, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted all throughout the air of the space. You nearly had to pause when it filled your senses, the dim lighting luring you off to the glass casing too.

Inside, there were various snacks and small little meals perfect for traveling, although you were only in waiting for someone. Under a kind orange lighting, there were eggtarts, cookies, donuts, bagels, some pastries, and pies. Your stomach might've even protested, just a little at the sight, and you were grateful the owner was busy with his back to you, his hands putting a new batch of cookies in the oven.

It didn't take long for you to decide on what to get, knowing Taylor's favorites like they were yours. After a few seconds of just staring at the baked goods, not even trying to decide anymore, but now gathering your courage to talk, you look up to the man that had turned to look at you. Realizing his attention was on you, you take out your earphones to rest in your hand.

"Anything you'd like?" He asks, his question open, rather than a direct ask. He had a mustache and a kind face with a smile, his hat tilted off to the side. You couldn't resist the small smile on your own lips, along with a nod.

You pointed to the treats you wanted, mentioning their names too in case he couldn't figure out which one your finger went to.

He opened the glass door and happily took them out, delicately putting each of them into small clear bags and containers, that then go into a bigger, plastic bag with the bakery's logo on it.

It wasn't a rush hour, nor were you rushing yourself. The both of you were relaxed as he loads them gently, and you were patient as you watched, leaning your arm against the counter.

Once he had finished, he places your bought food in front of you, making sure they were all taken in. He counted each type into the cash register screen, the numbers going up until he gestures to the card scanner. You, of course, brought out your card, and did the usual procedure, holding it to the scanner. It was read, and the payment easily goes through.

After you stored your card back, you grab the plastic bag, careful not to jostle it as you turn around. The owner returns back to his work in the meanwhile, glad he could make another customer happy, along with himself.

Walking through the airport was a pain to your legs, with it being a large building that then had another large building connected to it. You had even resorted to going onto the long flat escalators that were spread around the place, taking breaks while still moving, but when you realized it was way too slow, you went back to making your legs work.

Finally, you reached the nearest waiting area to where Taylor's gate would be, the big windows at the side showing a view of the runway.

There weren't a lot of taken seats, the place being a more calm and breathable area. But still, you took the corner that was closest to the large window, not wanting to be too out in the open space.

The chair creaked just slightly when you sat on it, a sign of its old age and successful long stay in the airport. But surprisingly, it was in good shape despite it, and the leather was clean.

Crinkles came from your plastic bag next, being placed on the seat beside you, and you only hoped no one would steal it when you weren't looking.

You grab out a sausage bun from out the bag, a reasonable choice for the way your stomach made sound earlier. The bread was a little oily when you had to grab it out with your hand, considering it was being stubborn with fumbling its way out the clear plastic, but you simply made it dissolve into your skin by rubbing your fingers together.

The first bite was a delicacy to your taste buds. There was no doubt you'll return to that bakery whenever you'll need to come back to this airport, it easily getting your approval.

You enjoy your small meal, needing to put it down for a moment to put your earphones back on, muffling off the world around you and filling your ears with music instead, once more.

Of course, it was your girlfriend's songs playing on your phone. 'Holy Ground (Taylor's Version)' sounding out, continuing the Red album from where you had left it, off from the car.

You took a deep breath in, then softly released it, preparing yourself to do a deep dive with the music, and for the hours of waiting you'd need to do. To be honest, you were even a little more anxious of the waiting, than the people around you, your eyes warily wandering for your surroundings, before your gaze returns to the window.

Planes arrived and departed, and you watched, staying quiet in your corner. The minutes pass by. The time ticks off each hour, the clock somewhere on the airport wall showing how long its been.

You were almost sure someone was manipulating it to be going slower than it should. But the longer it goes, the more anxious you got.

Your eyes watch a plane arrive, your breath held in your throat as you saw that it was the same airline company that Taylor was on, but it wasn't going to her gate.

The held breath you had releases as a sigh, and you lean back in your seat, tilting your head to see the bag of baked goods beside you. You only hoped the food wasn't going too cold. But, in the gentle attack of the airport AC, there wasn't much you could do.

Your eyes start to roam a little more, tearing them away from the window you've been stuck on, wanting to catch a glimpse of Taylor's plane, touching down to be home to you.

The occupance of seats in your area wasn't changing much, and you couldn't tell if the airport was getting more crowded or growing empty. Maybe neither.

Instead of listening to the music, you were starting to space out, feeling the beat of your heart against your chest, and your teeth had sank into your lips, wondering what was happening on her end. She said she'd arrive in three hours and it had been four. But of course she was coming, why wouldn't she? Had her plane run late? Did she miss it and forgot to tell you in the midst of her busy work? No, of course not.

You check your phone, your hand feeling the leather material of your chair as you do. There wasn't any new messages from her, and it didn't take much for your leg to start moving from the worrying.

It wasn't until you look back up from your phone that you finally notice the big screen at the end of the airport, showing every flight's info; their times and their travels all written down.

Your breath got caught at the realization, and quickly, your eyes searched for Taylor's flight, passing by the other ones that were meaningless to you.

You saw it. Just a glimpse, but damn the screen changing for the other flights just as you do. You wait a little. Then, you saw, thankfully, not a red line on hers, but a yellow one, the large capitalized words beside it showing; 'DELAYED ARRIVAL'.

Your eyebrows furrowed. Taylor had gone on the plane before it could be delayed, considering she texted you that she was already on the bridge, so what could have possibly happened?

A sigh left your lips, and you shifted in your seat, your mind's noise only getting stronger for her in the passing time.

Outside, it was a pretty sunset, the blue skies fading off to an orange, chasing yellows in between. You couldn't help but think if Taylor was looking at the same view, and if hers were prettier in the plane.

Maybe she was worrying about you too, especially with the nighttime coming into play, but all you had was the window to look to in hope. After a few more moments, you try messaging her, your heart hoping that maybe it'll get a message out of her, somehow.

Hey, you're late, what happened??

sent at 6:23 PM

But upon the bright skies disappearing into a dark night, the hope was shrinking small, and the orange lights that came from the aiport vehicles outside with the marshallers were reflecting off the window.

I'm worried, tay

get home safe, please

sent at 6:24 PM

You texted her again, your lower lip bitten deeply by your teeth, and you were sure Taylor would notice the marks and battering of your lips when she's back with you.

In the gray clouds that covered up the stars, if there were any to be seen with the amount of lights there were at the airport-- the wind was starting to build outside, causing the workers to hold onto the vehicles and bags they had.

When a lightning flashes and it sounded out before you could even count out how long it'd be until the noise came, you flinched, your heartrate growing quicker at the sudden surprise.

It was clear. A strong storm was oncoming, and now you were at the edge of your seat, holding onto yourself. Your stomach was getting emptier from the amount of time thats gone by, but you didn't even feel like getting anything into your system in the suspense, and even looking at the bag, you were sure you'd be sick from anxiety.

You kept staring. Hoping. Even if you had done the same thing all those hours ago, maybe this time it'll work, that you'll finally see the plane Taylor was on.

And for once there was something through the dark clouds. Of course, lots of plane were passing and coming already, but it was slowly stopping at the storm, and your eyes transfixed on the blinking light you saw.

It was green and red, and it blinked again, and again, until you saw a plane finally pass by through the clouds, having the markings of Taylor's, but you were still waiting, and waiting.

You had to even put your music to a pause, needing to put your focus all upon it, along with steadying your breaths.

The plane had touched down, and it was soon going down the empty runway, the grass, tall as it was, being blown back by both the wind of the airplane and the weather.

The slowness of it almost frustrated you. But you kept watching, your eyes flickering from the plane to the screen until the giant screen blinked, and the line turned green on Taylor's flight, showing 'ARRIVED', in assurance for you. The plane had slowly stopped too, being guided to its parking spot.

Oh. You were relieved. So, so relieved, you felt at the near edge of collapsing. The breath you let out felt like the longest one you held, and you blinked your eyes to get yourself together.

She had better been in that plane. You pick up the plastic bag with the food, gathered your things, and stored your earphones, standing up without another second wasted.

Your feet was swift with your shoes on the ground, going to where the exit of the security area would be, and you searched, desperately, after every person that walks through the doorway. The plane didn't even have all that many people onboard, but each one that left felt like one too many to you.

You shifted on your feet, peeked, and had to move to the side so people could walk through the airport without trouble, but only until you saw a speckle of the familiar blonde hair you would usually see at home.

It wasn't much, but it was something, and you had to wait for her to turn fully before you could see if it truly was Taylor or not. When she did, slowly, god, your heart pumped with excitement. It was almost like seeing her for the first time again. There she was. In front of you.

"Tay!!!" you called her, waving at her, and her once tired eyes widened, her face brightening as she goes to run to you, opening her arms out.

"HI!!" She said, her volume much stronger than it should be, but she didn't care, eagerly wrapping her arms around you once she was completely close to you.

"Hi!! Oh, baby, what happened, where were you??" you ask, your second question perhaps not making sense in the slightest, but you've been too worried and is filled up with too much happiness to even think.

"Oh, god, I was so worried you wouldn't be here!! My plane got caught up in a storm and the lines were all dead so I couldn't text you, and--" She rambles, her hands tightening around you before you realize she was far too worried herself.

"Shhh...baby, baby...its okay, I'm just happy you're safe," you whisper, nuzzling into the side of her head and leaving a kiss there, the both of you swaying slightly.

"I missed you. I've missed you so much," she murmurs, leaving kisses herself, and her adrenaline of seeing you was wearing off as she relished in your warm hug.

"I love you. And I've missed you too..." You whisper, sighing softly, trying to hold back the prickling tiniest bits of tears that were trying to form.

"I love you too. Oh, you have no idea how much I've missed you..." she continues, nuzzling into your neck and mumbling about it, clutching onto you as if you'd disappear.

You giggle softly, feeling her squeezes and kisses, returning it all yourself, especially because you were holding onto her for dear life, too.

"I'm here now...I'm here," you whisper softly and soothingly, rubbing your hand up and down her back. You only thanked everything in the world that the people were actually lessening, at least from her plane's arrival, and they were tired themselves too, unable to even focus on the reunion the two of you had. But you were sure there was more to come for this plane's next departure.

You look around before leaning back, just inches away. "Lets get out of here before more people gather up, sweetheart," you say, returning your gaze to her with all your softness.

She nods. "Yeah...its been too long of a day, I can't even-- think to deal with that right now..." She whispers, pulling away from you with emotion in her eyes and a small sniffle from her nose. You smile softly, your hand sliding up to gently wipe her tears off of her cheek.

"Time to go home, hm?" You said quietly, letting her lean against your side as you turned around to walk, helping to take her backpack and luggage with you while your other arm kept itself around her.

She nods, her arms wrapped around your waist. Of course, her bodyguards were around, keeping an eye on your surroundings and the both of you, but you didn't mind them, grateful they were there in fact, as you walked out to the car together

The car ride home was full of her hand reaching over to intertwine with yours, and she would be leaning against your shoulder if not for the centre console getting in her way.

She was also sleepy. Oh, so sleepy, your heart ached at the sight. You'd bring your hand to her shoulder whenever there was a red light, soothingly rubbing her in reassurance, while also helping her tense muscles.

When you arrived to your home, she was already about asleep, her head tilted slightly in the passenger seat, and the seatbelt keeping her safe.

You turned off the engine, but then looked to her, your teeth sinking into your lower lips. She looked so pretty, even in just the streetlight. And adorable. Every feature of her face, you traced with your eyes, but you snap out of it with the fading feeling of the car's cool air.

You almost didn't have the heart to wake her up, but you knew you definitely weren't going to make it to the bedroom holding her up.

So, with a hesitating hand, you reach over and gently put it on her shoulder. "Tay..." you whisper, starting at a very low volume at first.

But nothing came from her, not even a stir. She was too deep in her sleep, and that made you even more reluctant.

After a few more seconds paired with the encouragement of the heat that was starting to seep into the car with the engine off, you very gently shook her shoulder. "Tay...baby, wake up..." you whisper softly, trying one more time.

Finally, she did stir, a small groan sounding from her as her eyes barely opened, but she only put her hand atop yours and whined, clearly not wanting to wake up.

"Baby, we're home...come on, I'll help you walk, hm?" you offer, giving a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. The only response you got was a small huff, and a smile rose on your lips. She was always the cutest when she was sleepy, and your heart always melted at it.

You get out the car, rounding off to her side to open the door. She was awake, but with a sleepy pout as she slumped in her seat. A soft breath passed by your mouth, and you unbuckle her seatbelt, smiling softly at how she wasn't budging until you gave her a kiss and helped her up.

The path to the front door was paved safely through slow steps and a fumbling of your keys, and you somehow arrived to the edge of your shared bed after locking off the front door of the house.

Taylor had lazily fallen into the warm, cozy, familiar bed, mumbling some incoherent things under her breath that you'd guess are words that meant she missed the soft mattress and sheets she always slept in.

You let her get comfortable, but not before the two of you change that you finally join her in bed, crawling up to lay comfortably beside her, your arm wrapping around to her back to pull her closer.

She lets out a soft, content sigh, cuddling you close, too. Her eyes were already closed, but she wasn't asleep again just yet, and your mind was roaming too much back to the airport.

Not wanting to disturb her, but also wanting to talk about it, you decide to keep your voice hushed. "So...your plane was traveling through a storm?" you whisper, your free hand shifting slightly to go closer to hers.

"Mhm...'m sorry I worried you...the plane already went in the air and there was no line..." she whispers sleepily, feeling the brush of your fingers, so she intertwines your free hands.

Your eyes soften and your body relaxes at her slower explanation than her worried rambling from earlier. "...Baby, don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault you didn't know there was a storm, and neither did the employees," you murmur, brushing a stray strand of her hair to the back of her ear.

She smiles softly, and snuggles up closer to you, nuzzling into your chest. It didn't take long for her to end up leaving a kiss on your collarbone, then your cheek, and then finally trailing off inches away from your lips, but she pauses, seeing the small bitten skin of your lips.

A soft sigh escapes her, but the worry in her eyes were a tell that she wasn't mad or anything, only concerned for you. Her thumb goes to gently caress your lip before she leans in, kissing it slowly to make it better.

You easily melted into it, finding the reassurance in the softness of it all. "I'm happy you're safe..." You pull up the covers, wanting to keep you both a little more warm.

She moves herself a little, but leans back into you. "I'll always come back home to you..." she then takes a breath, continuing. "but you need to stop hurting your pretty lips, baby..." the blonde whispers, and you gaze down at her in sweetness.

"I can't help it...I'm sorry," you add on quietly. She could feel your heart beating, lulling her to sleep, but she knows the worries going in your mind, so she nuzzles into you again.

"It's okay...I'm right here beside you, so, shh...just go to sleep, baby..." she whispers, assuring you with a soft squeeze of her embrace, and leaving a kiss to your neck, wanting you to feel comforted before going to sleep yourself.

"I love you..." you murmur, your eyes falling heavily, and you could feel her hand gently slipping under your shirt, soothingly caressing your skin with her thumb.

"Mmn...love you, too," she whispers, just before the two of you fell deep into your snuggled up slumber.

-------------------

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[munsonsprincess11111]

Our loves simple

Eddie munson x reader

Summary: Nancy and Jonathan are sat at the hellfire lunch table arguing. You and Eddie come walking over completely oblivious to what's going on. But that's when the gang work out after dating for as along as you 2 have they've never seen you fight.

"OH well you could pretend to care."

"I do care Jonathan god what is wrong eith you today."

The 2 fight like cat and dog hellfire watching the argument unfold. They then see you and Eddie come through the cafeteria doors. Your in Eddie's back laughing looking like your holding on for dear life as Eddie approaches the hellfire table.

"And we have arrived at your destination your highness." Eddie says letting you slip off his back. You were complaining about your shoes hurting your feet so Eddie told u to get in his back while in the halls. You kiss his cheek and sit next to him. When Eddie sits he pulls your chair next to him. Opening his lunch box snd putting his arm around your shoulder.

"What are they fighting about?" Eddie askes the table as he offers u a grape. Everyone shrugs not to sure themselves. Eddie nods putting his attention back on you.

"Eddie y/n when was the last time u had an argument?" Jonathan askes ignoring Nancy. She looks pissed.

"I dunno 3 months ago?" Eddie replies not sure himself. Jonathan looks at Nancy. The 2 had been fighting a lot recently. Only small things they'd make up in minutes but still a lot. "We've never seen Eddie and y/n fight." Gareth states from thr end of the table.

"That's cause our arguments are either screaming matches or one of us cry." Eddie says smirking.

"And we just don't fight. Last time we had an argument was because some guy tried to slop me his number. I rejected him but someone was still pissed." You finally speak up then eating one of Eddie's grapes.

"Now that was a screaming match. And you won." Eddie shrugs stating.

Everyone at the table looks at Jonathan and Nancy who are arguing over Jonathan's test score as he claimed Nancy didn't care. The pair looked at eachother and mumbled an apology.

"Wait a guy slipped you his number?" Gareth askes. You nod not wanting to talk about it. Remembering how pissed Eddie was. Eddie then sits back crossing his arms over his chest no linger having an arm around you.

"Look its no big deal it was ages ago I rejected him and were fine now OK?" You say with a huff.

"Right all of you fuckers stop it. We're not gonna fight. It was ages ago leave it or it'll be you lot ill be fighting with got it Mike." Eddie says leaning forward looking at Mike who try to continue bringing it up. He nods looking at his food.

Eddie slouches back then putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you back in your chair so your next to him wrapping an arm around you reassuringly kissing your head. You melt into his touch knowing everything's fine. Your hands join and rest on Eddie's thigh.

"Remind me why we keep sitting with these prices instead of in the woods or my van." Eddie whispers to you kissing your head. You giggle and look at him. You look at him like he's the inly person in the world and he melts. He kisses your lips softly and smiles.

"Jonathan say sorry to Nancy properly for staring a petty argument." Eddie says looking back to your friends.

"M sorry Nancy for starting a petty argument. I love you n i won't do it again." Jonathan says looking at Nancy.

"Nance your turn" You say putting your head on Eddie's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Jonathan for not acting like I care I'm very proud of you you did awesome." She says smiling at him shyly.

Jonathan hugs Nancy and she hugs him back. "Cool right now can we have a normal fucking lunch with no arguments and no one getting in my relationship business?" Eddie askes looking at everyone at the table

Everyone agrees. Just as things settle Jason carver approaches with two of his minion friends. "Sup freaks." HE says smirking.

"Fuck sake one day. One day I will have a normal lunch. Hi Jason what will it be today? Cheap insults that I manage to make you shrivel up into a ball too? Or one of us throwing a fist which results in me running ad your minions chase me down?" Eddie says clearly pissed off

He keeps his arm over your shoulder letting go of your hand running it over his face. "You really like that y/n there are plenty of guys who like u in this school. Ditch the freak look at him." Jason says pointing at Eddie who's staring at him.

You turn your head and look at Eddie. "Your hot just saying." You say to eddie so Jason and his friends can hear. Eddie looks down at you smirking kissing your head. "Jason fuck off. No one here's interested in u or your small cock." You say sitting up straighter.

The boy looks stunned by your words. "Fucking freaks. All of ya." Jason mumbles. Before anyone knows it Eddie's up walking over to Jason. But he's running off with his friends before Eddie reaches him.

"Funny thought he wanted to have a chat." Eddie says stood where Jason once was. He looks over at you. "I fucking love you ya weirdo." HE says walking back around to you.

"I love you too ya freak." You say as he sits next to you. "Your words wound me sweet thing thought you loved me." HE says placing a hand over his heart.

"Fuckung he'll Eddie that nickname isn't sticking we've been over this." You smile saying while rolling your eyes.

"And like I said your sweet and my favourite thing. It's sticking" he mumbles eating another grape.

"NIT getting into this." You laugh and gwt up kissing Eddie's head walking off.

"Don't leave me with them. Babe please." HE calls behind u. Eddie then gets up grabbing his tin box running over to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and spinning. The table watch as you take Eddie's lunch box off him and he crouches for you to get on his back. Before he's walking goofing eith you in his back you laughing and screaming.

There's one word to describe how Eddie feels about you. Love. There's one word to describe how you feel about Eddie. Love. And it will be like that forever.

[sadboi-writer]

Dear Jack (Series)

Chapter Five: Swords and Magic

Summary: Milton and Y/N get bailed on by their friends because it's "not their thing". But, Rudy offers to help. Then the dojo realizes they're stronger together.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, medieval cursing

Masterlist ~ Chapter Four ~ Chapter Six

Everyone was stretching in the dojo when Jerry ran in.

"Guys, huge problem!" He started, "Kelsey Vargas, the coolest girl in school, is on her way down here."

"Don't panic." Jack assured, "We've trained for this. Guys, bust out the emergency deodorant."

Y/N rolled their eyes, "So you'll put on deodorant for Kelsey, but not for Kim and I? Way to make some girls feel special."

Jerry rolled his eyes, "I don't need deodorant!"

"Yes, you do." Y/N said

"We all need deodorant. We're teenage boys." Milton replied, " Our bodies are a smorgasbord of smells.

Eddie nodded, "I'm not taking any chances, I'm wearing a necklace made of air fresheners right now."

He pulled out a necklace of tree shaped air fresheners and inhaled.

"This week I'm Alpine Meadow."

Jerry shook his head and turned to Y/N and Kim.

"I told Kelsey I was a martial arts expert and the youngest sensei in history." Jerry explained

Y/N cackled, "Oh, you're screwed dude."

Kim made a face and walked off. Rudy approached Jerry.

"Jerry," Rudy greeted

"Oh, Rudy, Kelsey's on her way." Jerry replied, "Dude, please hook me up with that black belt!" Rudy frowned, "You can't have this belt! Its a symbol of hard work, honor, and respect."

"Well, then why do you use it to walk your dog?" Jack asked

Rudy turned to Jack, "That was one time and it was an emergency. I had a pug with the squirts and new white carpet! Look, can we stop talking and get to sparring please?"

Rudy looked around, " Jerry, you're up against Kim. Milton, you're with Y/N. Eddie, you're with Jack."

"Jack?!" Eddie despaired

Jack did some warm up moves, much to Eddie's dismay. Y/N chuckled.

"Don't scare him too much, Jack." They hollered

Jack smiled, "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Uh, hold on. My phone is vibrating," Eddie panicked, " You know I hate to be that guy but- Hello?"

Eddie held his wallet to his face.

"You mean the guy who pretends his wallet is a phone?" Jack replied

Eddie shushed him, "Please, shh! Can you hear me now?"

And Eddie left the dojo.

Rudy clapped his hands, "Come on, guys, let's go!"

As they all prepped to spar, Kelsey walked into the dojo she stopped standing next to Rudy. Y/N waved lightly as they settled into their stance opposite Milton.

"Hi, Jerry," Kelsey greeted

Jerry spun around, "Kelsey, what a surprise."

"So, these are your students who fear and respect you?" She asked

Kim smiled tightly, "Yes, we are. I'm about to fear and respect the living grits out of him right now."

"Oh, no," Jerry panicked, quietly toward Kim, "Not my grits, I'm gonna need my grits!"

Kim was quick to grab his arm and flip him. Y/N cackled, offering Kim a high five.

"Wipeout!" Y/N chuckled

Jerry stumbled to his feet, "Yeah, I'd say you've got that move down pretty well! Oh, you guys take a five. Kelsey and I are gonna get a froyo."

Jerry stumbled toward Kelsey and Rudy.

"Oh, come on, Kelsey," Jerry groaned

Kelsey put out her arm to go with him, but Jerry stumbled and wrapped his arm around Rudy instead. Leaving Kelsey confused.

At school the next day, Jerry was all grump because of Kim embarrassing him.

He stalked down the stairs, "Hey, thanks a lot, Kim! You cost me a date with the coolest girl in school!"

"What are you gonna do, sensei, "She asked sarcastically, "throw me out of the dojo?"

Eddie chuckled.

"Kim, in the future, let's respect Jerry enough not to embarrass him in front of the girls he's lying to." Jack teased

Jerry completely missed the point, "Thank you , Jack! It's called decency, Kim."

The four heard a kazoo playing fanfare and kids laughing on the other end of the hall. They watched as Milton and Y/N marched through in totally embarrassing (in their opinion) royal garb.

Milton trotted to the staircase and announced, "All hail Miltonius, and his enchanting sidekick the Lady Y/N/N! The newly crowned king and queen of Narnia!"

"See, Milton, this is the reason you had to go to spring formal with a bio lab skeleton." Jack pointed out, "And Y/N what are you doing?"

"I'll have you know that Bonita is an excellent dancer," Milton protested

Y/N shrugged, "I'm having fun, Jack. I even made mine and Milton's outfits, do you like?"

Y/N did a little twirl, showing off the intricate design they'd sewn. Jerry smiled and offered a little clap for them.

Eddie interjected, "Hey, I know what's going on! It's that time of year when all the dorks come out and play swords and magic in the park!"

"Or if it rains we use the bingo hall at the senior center!" Milton added, "We tear it up!"

"Yeah we do!" Y/N cheered, giving Milton a high-five

As they spoke, Kelsey walked past the group.

"Hi, Jerry," She greeted

Jerry pushed Milton and Y/N out of the way, "Hey, Kelsey. I was just talking to these kids I've never seen before! I don't even know their names! Right, Milton? Really, Jerry?"

Milton ignored him, "Guys, big news! This year, you guys are all gonna participate in the battle with us!"

"It's going to be so fun!" Y/N chimed in

"What happened to all your other friends?" Kim asked, "You know, the ones who throw up when I try to talk to them."

"This years things are a little complicated," Milton explained, " Francis has a bassoon recital, Jeffrey is a finalist in the Mathlympics, and Louis got grounded for teaching his cockatiel bed words."

"Dude, we're not gonna be a part of your nerdfest," Jerry protested

Milton chuckled, "Very funny, Jerry."

"Nerdfest is in Minneapolis in October, duh!" Y/N laughed

Jack stood, "See, Milton, a bunch of dudes in tights running around the woods beating each other senseless with foam swords-- It's just not our thing."

"Well, it's our thing," Milton proposed, gesturing to Y/N, " And we wanna share this moment with my best friends. That's you guys."

Eddie shook his head, "I don't know. I just quit the cello and threw out my panda bear backpack. I'm just starting to get cool!"

"Come on! Just give it a chance!" Milton pleaded

Y/N looked at the ground, realizing their friends weren't going to budge. Which suddenly made them feel very uncomfortable in their outfit.

"Soon you'll know the exhilaration of bonding down a hill, cape aflutter, to slay a half-elf with a foam rubber axe!" Milton insisted, "Are you with me? All for one and one for- Gah!"

He shouted in despair as he realized the rest of their friends had left them.

"I probably lost them at 'cape aflutter'!" He bemoaned

Y/N played with the lace on the cuffs of their sleeves, pulling lightly at the loose threads they had yet to surge off. Milton came over and put a hand on their shoulder.

"I already made their outfits," Y/N mumbled

"I know, buddy, I know." Milton said empathetically before guiding them away

After school, Milton and Y/N were the first to the dojo. Immediately, Milton was complaining to Rudy while Y/N sat sullenly on a bench.

"I can't believe our own friends bailed on us!" Milton grumbled

Rudy shrugged, "I don't know. Running around in the woods, beating other dudes senseless with foam swords? That just sounds like a good time to me!"

Milton huffed, "Y/N made their costumes and everything!"

"You know what?" Rudy asked, "I love stuff like this!"

Y/N's eyes shot up, a small smile on their face. Milton turned and looked at their sensei.

"Are you saying you'll go into battle with me?" Milton asked hopefully

Rudy smiled, "It would be an honor... my lord."

Rudy bowed to Milton, who couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"Wow," Milton acknowledged, "You two may be the only real friends I have."

Milton turned and grabbed a bo staff off the wall. He held it high with a smile.

"With this bo staff I bud thee, Rudy, my faithful squire!" Milton announced

"I can't believe it," Rudy giggled, "I'm a squire! I'm a squire! I'm a squire!"

That weekend, Rudy, Y/N, and Milton all took to the park with their weapons and costumes to go into battle. Rudy, being the squire, had the backpack full of everything. The three stumbled into the clearing where battle would start.

Rudy gasped for air, "You know, I don't think this squiring thing is for me."

"This turkey leg isn't gonna salt itself!" Milton insisted

Y/N chuckled, "My lord, I think we ought to give him a break."

Rudy huffed and pulled out his salt shaker, salting the turkey leg as Milton had asked.

"Dang it, I left my grape juice in the Port-a-Pooper!" Milton complained

Rudy shook his head.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get it!"

Rudy turned and hobbled away to get Milton his grape juice. Y/N turned to Milton.

"Don't get me wrong, Mil. I'm glad Rudy is here," Y/N began, "But, I kind of wish Jerry or at least Eddie was here."

Milton sighed, "Yeah, me too. But, at least Rudy didn't leave us hanging, right?"

Y/N shrugged, "Yeah, I guess it just hurts that they weren't really willing to do for us what we do for them. I almost kissed Truman for Eddie, and he won't put on a cape and beat some guys up for us?"

"Yeah, I know Y/N/N, but we have each other. And we have Rudy."

Meanwhile, back at the dojo Jack, Eddie, and Kim exited into the food court as Jerry danced up. He was in a really good mood.

"Oh, guys, check it out! I smoothed everything out with Kelsey!" Jerry announced, " I promised I would never lie to her again, and I got a date with her this afternoon."

"Yeah!" Eddie encouraged

"The kid is back in the game! Whoo!" Jerry cheered

Jack dapped him up. But Eddie pointed out something behind them both.

"Nerd alert," Eddie stated

They turned around as Sidney and his friends approached.

"Greetings. We are the Dark Knights!" Sidney announced, "Warriors known for being brave and ferocious and-"

Kim cut him off, "Ferocious? Sidney, you cried in science when your fruit fly died."

"That fruit fly left behind 3,000 babies." Sidney narrowed his eyes, " Milton and Y/N said they put together a band of loyal warriors that will finally capture our grail and defeat us. Like that's going to happen!"

Sidney gave his best (yet it was still terrible) evil laugh. Jack cringed.

"Dude, dude, dude," Jack protested, "That evil laugh is so not working."

Sidney turned to his other friend, "Thanks, Benny. You told me it was intimidating!"

Benny shrugged, Sidney stormed off past him. Leaving the four Wasabi warriors in their place.

Jack was first to break the silence.

"Woah, guys, Milton and Y/N called us their loyal warriors." Jack considered, "Now they're gonna be out there all alone against a flock of dweebs hopped up on Honey Buns."

Kim grimaced, "Uhm, Jack, are you saying we should go to the park and help them? Because, uhh- I-- I can't. My, uh, Aunt Charlotte-- yeah, she's coming in from, uhm, Charlotte and we're gonna go watch Charlotte's Web. Wow, I am not good at lying."

Jack sighed, "Look, they've both always been there for us! Jerry, what about that time where you tried to get Kelsey jealous by making her think you were dating a cheerleader? Who helped you out?"

"Milton," Jerry conceded, "Wow, you're right. He was there for me... Did you know that Brian Donnelly actually asked him out?"

"Eddie," Jack insisted, "What about you? You hate going to visit your nana."

Eddie nodded, "That's because she always wants to do things to my hair."

"But who always goes with you?" Jack asked

"Y/N and Milton," Eddie answered, "Sometimes I think nana loves them more than me. And I'm okay with that!"

"And Kim!" Jack continued, "What about that time at the St.Patrick's Day Concert when you lost your voice? Who got you through that?"

Kim sighed as she thought back, "Y/N."

Jack looked around at his friends.

"Guys, I think you know what we have to do." He incited

They all went inside and changed into the outfits Y/N had hung up for them in the locker room. Eddie and Jack exited, Eddie dressed like a bardish elf and Jack dressed like an English knight.

"Seriously?" Eddie complained, "Is this really what we have to do?"

"Yes, it is!" Jack insisted, grimacing himself

The two tried to adjust themselves to be as comfortable as possible. As Kim and Jerry exited. Kim wearing the pink and purple princess dress that had been sewn for her, and Jerry in his tartan kilt.

"Come on," Jerry grumbled, "Let's go to the park."

"I don't get it," Kim groaned, "Why do I have to be the princess?"

"I am not swapping!" Eddie was quick to say

Then the four took off toward the park. Jerry slowed for a moment and looked at a lady who had been staring.

"Hey lady," he snapped, "Eyes up here, okay? Ugh, these sexy legs are a curse!"

The four tromped through the park, out of breath and sweaty as all get out.

"I can't take this anymore!" Eddie hollered, "It's hot, my feet are killing me, and these elf ears are starting to get sweaty!" He pulled one of the ears off and wrung out the sweat from it to prove his point. Causing Jack and Kim to grimace.

"You don't get to complain," Jack countered, "We could have stayed on the path to the battlefield, but noOoOoO, you knew a shortcut through the woods!"

Jack snatched the ear out of Eddies hand and yelled into it.

"This is not a shortcut Eddie!"

"Relax!" Eddie insisted, "I'm an Explorer Scout! I was trained to navigate by the stars!"

Kim started smacking her palm with her wand, "Oh, I can help you see the stars alright!'

Jack grabbed her shoulders and stopped as she moved towards Eddie angrily.

"Woah, woah, come on guys," He mediated, "We have to focus. Their battle starts in a half-hour."

Meanwhile, Milton and Y/N stood with Rudy as they met at the summit prior to the battle.

"So, where is this big loyal army you've been bragging about?" Sidney asked

"Yeah, guys, where are they?" Sidney's wizard asked

Rudy stuck his arm out, "I've got this, your highnesses. Yeah, we may be outnumbered, but my king and our queen have the heart of a lion! And I have the speed of a--a-- you know those animals with the pointy ears and they're really fast?"

"A gazelle?" Sidney offered

"Yeah," Rudy agreed, "Wait, no, no, they're skinny and they don't really run so much as--as just bound! And they kind of go grrr! And, oh it's right on the tip of my tongue!"

"Squire!" Milton interjected, "Let's just go over the rules. One, the first team to capture the other's grail and place it on the pedestal of glory next to their own is the winner."

Sidney nodded, "Rule two, if you get struck on the chest you're out."

"Cheetah!" Rudy shouted, "Sorry, it's the animal I was thinking of earlier. It just popped into my head. Sorry, keep going."

Y/N stepped up, "Rule three, no cursing or foul language. Unless it's a medieval word like 'zounds'!"

The Dark Knights gasped, Rudy placed a hand on their shoulder.

"Y/N, you are better than that!" Rudy insisted

"Not today I'm not," They smirked

The three went to their base to prepare for battle. They watched the Dark Knights parry with their swords.

"Oh, this will not end well for us," Y/N mumbled,"Milton, I fear our defeat is imminent."

Milton looked at Y/N with a bit of sadness in his eyes.

"Rudy, this looks bad," Milton spoke, "They'll be coming for our grail soon and I think you should know, I probably won't be going home with you."

Rudy's eyes hardened, "No, don't you talk like that. You're so young! You've got your whole life ahead of you."

"No!" Milton clarified, "I won't be going home with you because my mom is picking me up here to take me to the orthodontist."

Rudy nodded, "Look, whatever happens down there, It's been an honor to serve under you."

Rudy saluted vigorously. Y/N smiled.

"Rudy, can I get a ride back to the dojo after this?" Y/N asked

He nodded.

"Rudy, I've been thinking," Milton said, "If you're the only one who stood by us."

Milton looked to Y/N for permission, they nodded willingly. Milton unsheathed his sword.

"I hereby dub thee, Sir Rudy, our faithful knight!"

"I can't believe this!" Rudy cheered, "It's all happening so fast! Pretty good for a kid from the wrong side of the tracks with nothing but a pocketful of dreams! Not gonna cry... not gonna cry."

"Get it together!" Y/N snapped

The fanfare blew as they said that.

"We're going into battle," Milton announced

Y/N drew their rubber sword, Milton handed Rudy his then pulled a backup.

"Men, I can think of no greater warriors to fight with." Y/N complimented, "May our souls be lain in glory."

The Dark Knight collectively yelled, "Charge!" Then, Milton, Rudy, and Y/N were back to back. A triangle of threat to anyone who dared go for their grail.

All the while, Jack, Jerry, Eddie, and Kim were still running from the bees that they'd agitated.

"I think we finally lost the bees," Jack panted, "Where's Kim and Eddie?"

Jerry huffed and puffed for a second, "Oh, Kim got her hair tangled up in a thorn bush. Eddie's trying to get her out."

Eddie ran into the clearing, "It took a while, but I finally got Kim's head out of that bush! Luckily I had my official Explorer Scout pocket knife."

Kim walked in, her hair spiked up where Eddie had had to cut it. The three boys gasped. Kim smiled at them.

"Guys, the battlefield is just over there," She pointed out, "Come on!"

She ran off toward the battlefield, leaving Jack, Jerry, and Eddie behind.

Jack turned, "Eddie, even if you make it out of this battle alive, Kim's gonna kill you."

Then Jack took off in a run toward the battlefield. Jerry stepped toward Eddie.

"Wait, that was Kim?" Jerry asked

In the heat of the battle, Milton, Rudy, and Y/N fought valiantly. Swords clashing with fervor as they guarded what was rightfully theirs.

"I don't thinkI have much left," Rudy commented, "My tights are riding up, I got sunblock in my eye, and if I don't get a potty break soon something really bad's gonna happen."

"Rudy, focus!" Y/N insisted as their sword clashed with Sidney's

"Something better not happen!" Milton replied, "Those pantaloons are rented! Battle on! We must protect the grail at all costs!"

"Aye, your majesty!" Y/N shouted as their sword locked with the wizards this time

Sidney knocked Milton's sword from his hand, "It's over Miltonious! Prepare to taste my foam!"

Before Y/N could move to protect Milton, a foam axe flew through the air and hit Sidney. Knocking the sword from his hand. All eyes shot to the perpetrator.

"Ow! Who threw that!" Sidney whined

Jack.

Y/N's face broke into a huge smile as the four sprinted across the battlefield screaming to join them.

Y/N heard Sidney say, "His arm is made of ogres!" Y/N took a swing with their swords, "That is a princess and her loyal knights, you Scobberlotcher!"

Sidney and his knights gasped at the words Y/N had used. Sidney swept up his sword from the ground.

"Retreat! Retreat!" He squeaked out

The four joined Milton, Rudy, and Y/N at their pedestal of glory. Y/N smiled and gave Jerry a tight hug.

"You guys made it!" Milton smiled

"I hoped you would show up," Y/N revealed

Jack panted, "This may not be our thing, but if it means something to you guys, then we're with you, King Miltonious and Queen Y/N/N!"

Milton's smile widened, "Thanks! Who's the dude with the punked out mullet?"

Y/N's eyes scanned and landed on Kim and her janky hairdo. A gasped escaped them as their hand flew to their mouth in shock. Kim looked just as confused.

"All right guys, hands in," Jack was quick to switch subjects, "We've got us a grail to capture."

Everyone piled their hands in, "Wasabi!"

"Charge!" Milton shouted

The group took off in a run toward the Dark Knights, a battle cry loud in their throats. Jerry immediately took down one guy, Eddie psyched out three on accident and they were taken out, and Kim got two.

Rudy stayed a guarded the grail with Y/N on the foreground trying to prevent anyone from getting that close. Jack was taking care of five of them at once. While Y/N had another three. One knocked their sword from their hand. Y/N surely thought they were done for. But, Jack came in from the back, kicked them their sword and fought back to back with them.

When he was done with his enemies Jack celebrated, doing a stupid little running man.

"Yeah!" He hollered, " Don't mess with the Jack!"

Y/N chuckled as they watched him fall into a bush.

Across the battlefield, Milton was locked in battle with Sidney. When his sword was knocked from his hand. He used the swing set to kick Sidney away, then used the flag to pole vault over the knights. Milton got his hand of their grail and grabbed a loose sword. He charged back toward their base and slipped through the knights as they charged. He tripped on his way down, turning the knights attention to him.

Y/N watched Milton set the grail on the teeter-totter. Immediately, they nudged Jack.

"Give me a boost, huh?" They asked

Jack looked and understood what they meant. He cupped his hands as Y/N backed up to get a running start. Y/N ran and ket Jack cup their foot, giving them lift as they launched across the battlefield.

Y/N landed harshly on the upside of the teeter-totter, punting the grail to their side of the field. Milton stood and ran after it as the Dark Knights watched in awe.

Milton ran as fast he could as the battle stopped around him. He dove and caught the grail, slamming it down onto their pedestal.

"Victory!" Milton shouted

Y/N cheered, "Yes!"

Jack ran to Y/N, picking them up in a hug. When he set them down, they looked into an each other's eyes for a moment. It was like the world was quiet and nothing else mattered. Until Jerry joined their hug.

"Whoo!" Jerry shouted, "We did it!"

"Oh! Come on!" Sidney complained

As the Dark Knights dispersed, Jack, Jerry, and Y/N joined their friends by the pedestal.

"Way to go, Milton!" Jack praised, "You did it!"

"No, Jack! We did it!" Milton insisted!

Kim smiled, "Here you go, Milton. Here's your grail, you've earned-"

She screamed as she saw her hair in the reflection of the grail. Kim looked ready to cry.

"My hair,"She squeaked,"What happened to my hair? Eddie?"

Eddie laughed nervously.

"You are so dead!" Kim promised

Eddie screamed as he took off sprinting, Kim hot on his tail. Y/N laughed, leaning into Jack's shoulder.

"Oh, she's going to kick his butt," Y/N chuckled

Later that day, after Milton's orthodontist appointment, the group went to the dojo. Where Y/N was already steaming and mending their costumes. None of them hadn't seen them yet.

"Thanks a lot guys," Milton complimented, "I know you were embarrassed by those costumes. But don't worry, you'll never have to wear them again."

Y/N frowned, they had worked hard on those.

"And no one at school will ever have to know!" Milton insisted

Jack caught sight of Y/N, "You're right, Milton. They don't, but they will."

The following Monday, Jack, Jerry, Eddie, and Kim all wore their newly mended costumes with no fight. Partly to make Y/N feel better about thinking they were embarrassed to wear them. And partly, to just support their friends.

They got laughed at, and Jack officially lost any hot dates he'd been working towards. But, at the very least, he thought it was worth it to make Y/N and Milton happy.

[itsnotgray]

We're living different lives

Heaven only knows

If we'll make it back with all our fingers and our toes

Five years, twenty years, come back

It will always be the same

For the first time since the end of August, all of the Fantilli siblings would be under one roof. Albeit, only for three days, but it was three days that they were determined to make count.

Luca was the first to fly home, following the conclusion of the first semester. About a week later, came the twins. First was Gianna, who left straight from the rink in Nashville (as Luca could tell by the wet hair she was sporting), nearly forgetting to even tell her teammates she was leaving, eager for whatever scraps of time she could get with her family.

The minute his baby sister stepped off that plane, it was as if someone had lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders. He threw his arms around her, smothering his face in her hair as he inhaled the scent of the shampoo she’d been using since she was 14. Gianna returned the sentiment, clinging onto her older brother as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. “Lu,” she cried into his shoulder, the relief of being reunited with one of her brothers, one of the people whose presence had been so distinctly woven into her life force, that the past few months of separation has been akin to torture, making it’s way to the surface. “Gi,” he said soothingly, tilting her head back so he could wipe her tears, the same way he used to when she was learning to skate all those years ago. A watery smile made its way onto his face as he uttered the words he’d been rehearsing for the past week, “Welcome back sorella.”

At the familiar term of endearment only her family was privy to, she launched herself at Luca, her arms encircling his neck as she began crying again. At last, her tears dried up, and she unpried herself from her Luca, mostly at the insistence of her stomach. “Now, can I go grab a snack before Mo gets here? I’d wait, but I haven’t eaten since before the game yesterday,” Gianna questioned while quickly taking out her phone to make sure her face wasn’t too terribly swollen from the tears she’d just shed. “Sure Gi, go ahead,” he responded while glancing down at his phone to check for any updates from Adam. A few beats of silence passed, before Luca glanced up, confused as to why she hadn’t walked away. He locked eyes with Gianna, who stood there awkwardly, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Do you want anything?” She questioned, voice as earnest as it always had been. He shook his head softly, and she quickly pivoted on her feet and made her way to the nearest coffee shop. Luca stared after her, a small smile on his face- it was like the old days. As long as he ignored the looming feeling of dread, dread at the fact that their time was limited, that she and Adam (who wasn’t even here yet) both left in two (technically three) days, he could pretend it was just like the old days.

Around an hour later, the third piece of their puzzle was getting off of his flight. Luca shook Gianna awake, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder shortly after returning with her snack, and barely got out the words, “Mo’s flight just landed,” before she shot up out of her seat, as if pure caffeine had just been injected into her veins. Without haste, Gianna threw herself to her feet, before quickly turning around and yanking Luca to his. “C’mon Lu, be ready- wait, which direction will he be coming from?” She spoke, the words rolling off of her tongue, too fast for her brain to comprehend, excitement taking over her body at the prospect of finally being in the same place as both of her brothers. “Should come from the left, if I scoped out the place correctly,” he said while wrapping an arm around her shoulders, as if to hold the girl back from sprinting to Adam the second she saw him.

About twenty minutes pass, before finally, Gianna catches a glimpse of the “stupid and entirely unnecessary” beanie she forced Adam to wear, so they’d be able to spot the boy from a distance. “Lu I think see him,” Gianna expressed excitedly, the girl beginning to bounce up and down on her heels, Once Adam got within a few feet of the pair, both siblings took off towards Adam, wrapping him in what their parents (who had elected to stay home, both to give the siblings time to reunite, but also to get some sleep- which they knew would be hard to do having all of their babies under one roof again) would call a “Fantilli take-down,” mostly because, had Adam not planted his feet on the ground in preparation, he easily would've fallen straight to the airport ground, which he was not about to do. The moment he felt the arms of his siblings encase him, he dropped his bags to the floor and wove his arms around someone, though he wasn't sure who, because their three bodies were so intricately woven together in this moment, it was impossible to tell where Luca ended and Gianna began. He tried to force a few words out of his mouth, but the emotional shell shock at finally reuniting with his best friends had seemingly made his brain short circuit. Yet, there was no doubt that the silent sobs that wracked his shoulders, and the tears on his cheeks said all of the words he couldn’t.

For this one brief moment, it was like the world stopped. For the first time in about four months, the pieces of the tattered, kindred spirits that resided in the each of three siblings, were at peace. At that moment, they were one soul, split into three hearts.

[notmorbid]

any other family.

dialogue prompts from any other family by eleanor brown.

who gets to say what it means to be a family?

all perfect moments are comprised of small details, are they not?

there just never seems to be enough time.

i am generally filled with rage, these days.

you can't bullshit a bullshitter.

you're always saying how tired you are. let someone help.

it will all work out. it has to.

it is all so complicated, and it was supposed to be so simple.

don't make me do this again.

why didn't you tell me how bad it was?

i've tried to talk to you dozens of times.

i have never felt so far away from you.

people say we're strange. maybe we are.

i don't understand why you're being so stubborn.

when the universe offers you a gift, you say yes.

i am not yours to rescue.

your hearing is highly selective.

do all parents feel like this?

abrupt change is not helpful for anyone.

this is turning out to be the least relaxing vacation in the history of ever.

i must not have prayed hard enough.

you're a terrible example, but most only children turn out okay.

family and money don't mix.

you can't rescue everyone, okay?

i'll figure it out. i always do.

when you say goodbye to something, you also get to say hello to everything that'll take its place.

you've survived 100% of the changes in your life thus far. odds are, you'll survive whatever comes next.

tonight. not 'later'. tonight.

you need to let ___ go.

what the hell is wrong with me? besides everything?

knowing and feeling are two different things.

the only thing we can do is hold hands and walk into the future together. with hope.

you're the only one i can count on to tell me the truth.

everything you do seems easy.

is this what we've been reduced to?

i have a good feeling about this.

everyone needs something to take care of.

why don't you ever stand up to ____?

one of the most amazing things about being a parent is rediscovering things you forgot were amazing.

we are a family now, whether we like it or not.

isn't it nice having someone to share the load, every once in a while?

you should take up drinking. it has all sorts of side benefits.

i told you [name] was a bitch.

i felt better when we weren't talking about it.

when i am ready for help, i will ask for help.

i am a gordian knot of emotions, and i cannot bear to cut through it.

what are we but the sum of our experiences?

what's the use of living if we can't apply our pasts to our presents?

you always seem so calm and confident.

we're still going to be a family, though, right?

if only parenthood came with scheduled alerts on coming changes and crises.

i didn't have to be your mother, i get to be your mother.

you are smart and silly and amazing and curious, and i love you very, very much.

i would have said yes to anything, to make the pain end.

i'm sad. it sucks. what else is there to say?

i can't imagine going through that alone.

you must be so strong.

i just want to burn it all down.

a relationship is a series of promises.

i am not above bribery.

it's not a family vacation without a few trips to the emergency room.

it's intimidating to be around you.

you probably came out of the womb punching.

it doesn't do us any good to be comparing, does it? we aren't the same people.

i've never been good at crying.

it's amazing how you can be right next to someone and have no idea what they're thinking.

you don't have to do this alone. you don't have to pretend to be okay when you're not.

you have to talk to someone. it's too much to carry if you don't.

i don't need reminders. i think about it every day.

i said ____ could spend the night, not move in.

your eyes are like cartoon saucers.

i'm sorry i didn't realize how unhappy you were.

[olichat-reads]

Imagine | ProHero!Bakugou x Villain!Reader

a/n: i'm on the brink of a panic attack at 7am on a monday morning sO-

🌟

imagine prohero!bakugou x villain!reader BUT they're childhood bestfriends. and and they're STILL bestfriends despite everything. sure, nothing personal on the job and sure they go head to head sometimes but at the end of the day they're each other's safeplace and comfort.

its weird but it works.

its not everyday, but sometimes your paths cross while you're both on the job and bakugou, that bastard, NEVER holds back on you. and to be fair, neither do you. given that the two of you grew up and trained together, you were pretty evenly matched. both knowing each others' moves and strengths and weaknesses.

which essentially, you two took advantage of in attempts to murder each other on the job :D

-

"you used that move i suggested you try 🥺"

"hell yeah it fucking worked!"

"i know, katsu. my shoulder is dislocated."

":)"

"you're buying me ice cream, you ass."

-

the press has a field day whenever you go against each other- deeming you ✨️a r c h r i v a l s✨️. it sure was an ego boost when your bestfriend was the number one prohero. also you got to terrorize him with the media. win fucking win.

-

*dynamight slams you into a wall*

"ohh~ harder daddy~"

"STOP GIVING THEM IDEAS YOU FREAK"

"BUT I WANNA READ ALL THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS FANFICS LET ME HAVE THIS"

-

and the thing is. it didn't scare you, either of you, to let loose when you come face to face in a fight. you knew katsuki was strong as much as he knew how hard you worked to keep up to him. no one could come close to hurting either of you, besides each other and even then, you each could hold your own.

that didn't mean you don't get injured though. one of you stumbling into the others' apartment beat up was way too common of an occurence with the nature of your professions.

-

"red riot hit me so hardddddd"

"tsk. thats on you. could've gone against me but you had to test your luck with red."

"BITCH STFU WE BOTH KNOW YOU'D FUCK ME UP WORSE THAN ANYONE ON THE FIELD-"

"of course i would. gotta try to knock some fucking sense into lil miss villain somehow. now come here let me see your ribs, they're probably bruised."

"AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT"

"yours."

"YOU- OW FUCK. KATSU GENTLE-"

"calm down you baby. you got stabbed last week and you're whining about some bruised ribs."

"I HAVE A LOW PAIN TOLERANCE YOU ASS BE NICE TO ME"

-

as much fun as it is smack each other in the vicinity of a public audience, you enjoy the occasional mission where you were both on the same team. perks of being a morally gray villain- you're flexible like that.

it should be noted though- you two're somehow even WORSE than when you fight each other. the amount of unhinged chaos should be a public and health hazard.

-

"we have a problem..."

"let me guess. you caused it."

"you have no faith in me. i'm offended."

"answer the question. did you?"

"...i did."

"and you ask me why i don't believe in you. fucking die, tinkerbell."

">:O"

-

"whats our escape plan?"

"our what :D"

"omg we're going to die."

-

"HOHO WE LIVED BITCH!"

"YOU COULD'VE WARNED ME BEFORE YOU YEETED ME OUT THE FUCKING PLANE YOU PSYCHOPATH"

"WHERE'S THE FUN IN THAT D:"

-

the two of you don't actively try to hide the nature of your jobs and relationship with each other outside work- you don't bother pretending. he's a hero, you're a villain and both of you were bestfriends. as simple as that.

it makes life way more fun, you think.

🌟

a/n: this is fun i might add more to this hehe

[reinathevocaloid]

A Sladick Playlist

(Bc these two have been living in my head rent-free these days lol)

Animals by Maroon 5 (Cover by Living in Fiction)

Baby, I'm preying on you tonight Hunt you down, eat you alive Just like animals

I Don't Know Why by Imagine Dragons

Dangerous Your love is always dangerous And now I'm lost in us We're livin' in a lying trust

damn. by Rei Ami

So tell me why you're back again Say what you mean, mean what you say 'Cause what you give is what you get And I don't forget

Killing Time by Infected Mushroom

In my dreams (I can kill you) Close to me You open the cage and he sets you free

Amsterdam by Daughter

Heavy eyed crawling on the roadside Swinging from the street lights I hope by the morning I will have grown back

heart of steel by sanjay.

What would I do with a heart of steel Protect what I love when I don't even feel Taken the chance to fix what I need Nothings right I need a chance to breathe

Maybe by Flower Face

You're the one who's in my body, ripping at the seams And you're the one who's crashing on the highways in my dreams Maybe I won't, maybe I will I haven't slept so easy since you left me in the wild I wish I could've loved you right, but I was just a child Maybe I won't, maybe I will run back to you

Psychobabble by Frou Frou

Do just what I tell you And no one will get hurt Don't come in any closer 'Cause I don't know how long I can hold my heart in two Make no sudden movements And no one need get hurt You're making me nervous If you know what's good for me why would I be loving you?

Knee Socks by Arctic Monkeys

When the zeros line up on the 24 hour clock When you know who's callin' even though the number is blocked When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste And your knee socks

Turn Off The Lights by Panic! At The Disco

I got so sick of being on my own Now the devil won't leave me alone It's almost like I've found a friend Who's in it for the bitter end

Just Pretend by Bad Omens

I can wait for you at the bottom I can stay away if you want me to I can wait for years if I gotta Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

Invisible by Plumb

I cannot see you But I can feel you I just wanna be with you I've nowhere else to go I've nowhere else to go

Red by BEAUZ

I know all your little secrets Did you think that I'd forget? The first cut always goes the deepest You ain't seen nothing yet

Waiting Game by BANKS

Baby I'm thinking it over What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start? What if it only gets colder Would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart 'Cause lately I've been scared of even thinking 'bout where we are

The Walk by Imogen Heap

No, it's not meant to be like this Not what I planned at all I don't want to feel like this So that makes it all your fault

The Heart Wants What It Wants by Selena Gomez

The bed's getting cold and you're not here The future that we hold is so unclear But I'm not alive until you call And I'll bet the odds against it all

Hold Me Like A Grudge by Fall Out Boy

Hold me, hold me like a grudge The world is always spinning, and I can't keep up, whoa Faster and faster, can't do it on my own Part-time soulmate, full-time problem, yeah So hold me like a grudge

Strange Birds by Birdy

You've always loved the strange birds Now I want to fly into your world I want to be heard My wounded wing's still beating, You've always loved the stranger inside Me, ugly pretty

Coming Down by Halsey

Now we're lost somewhere in outer space In a hotel room where demons play They run around beneath our feet We roll around beneath these sheets

Death Valley by Fall Out Boy

But we are alive Here in death valley But don't take love off the table yet 'Cause tonight It's just fire alarms and losing you We love a lot So, we only lose a little But we are alive

The Definition of Not Leaving by Hands Like Houses

I want you to follow and find me Howl like its us and no-one else We could keep out the sadness and stand so tall We could run like wild things, and lie right where we fall

Undisclosed Desires by Muse

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask I want to exorcise the demons from your past I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

Disciple by IAMX

Disciple, I absolve you So forgive yourself enough to obey the naked truth That you need to be owned And you beg to be controlled

On The Run by Kayou.

I guess you're back Are you gonna tell me where you went? All the messages I sent, with no reply It's like that You're just gonna walk into my room I hate how you assume That there will always be a place for you By my side Day or night You know that it's killing me

Raw Raw by K.Flay

I came up from the depths of hell with a golf club in my hand You disarmed me, no defense My armor turned to sand It's hard to escape the wounds of the past Every time I feel something real, I wanna take it back

Red Lights by Stray Kids

I'm going crazy now, out of control, I I'm staying up all night again The moment when I close my eyes All I see is red lights

All About Us by t.A.T.u.

They say They don't trust You, me, we, us So we'll fall if we must 'Cause it's you, me And it's all about, it's all about It's all about us

Heaven, Iowa by Fall Out Boy

Scar-crossed lovers forever I'm checking myself out forever I'm saving this all for later Scar-crossed lovers forever Here we are, untouched forever I'm saving this all for later, oh

Spiracle by Flower Face

And I want your parties, the shark in your water The scrapes on your knees and the blood that spills over And I want your zeroes, your polluted marrow The sweat on your palms and your surveillance shadow

[fishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

I LOVE LOVE THE CRANE WIVES !!!!!!!

IVE LOVED EVERY PIECE OF THEIR MUSIC WHICH I THINK IVE LISTENDED TO ALMOST ALL OF IT.

NEVER HEARD A CRANE WIVES SONG I DISLIKED!!!1

THE FUNKY LITTLE LEADING BASS LINE AND THE HOWLING VOCALS HAVE MY HEART AND SOULLLLL

SOME OF MY FAVORITE CRANE WIVES LYRICS: Album - Safe Ship, Harbored

You won't find me where you left me No, I'm long gone (Long gone)You can't bind me in the state you kept meFor so long (So long)

I give up my sight To see I give up my air To breathe

We're the daughters of sinners, we're the sons of saints

If there's a hole in the silver lining I'll be the one, the one to find itI take it upon myself to make sure I do . I might find nothing when I start lookingBut I turn it over in my hands untilMy fingers wear it through

Where does your faith fall? Where does your faith fall in me?Don't break the bottleDon't waste your blessings on me

My dreams keep diggin' up the bones of memories Discarded remnants of former timesNow every skeleton is slappin' its knees Laughin' at the holes he left behind

I have all the time I need (And when full moon beckons)To repent my wicked deeds(She relives the night that took her life)Plant my guilty seed(To suffer it in her eternal penance) By the moonlight in the cemetery

Album - The Fool in Her Wedding Gown

Spreading out the ashes of a love That only gave and gave

I'm swimming in this dress, a child in her mother's clothes This ring around my finger's like a chain around my throatAre you so sure you've tamed me?

Don't just watch me go, you fool Run with me, keep up, keep up, keep up

That though we're gray, we can stay young, and wild, and free

And if I were someplace else And if I were someone elseAnd if I were not myself, would this be easier?

I'm at a loss for better plans 'Cause this is all I haveSo I'll just close my eyes and try To pretend That it gets easier

All you're doing now is losing me

I gave you everything I had And now I want it back

You built the glacier house in the fadin' SummerYou cursed the earth you settled under

I know that you mean so well But I am not a vessel for your good intent

Though I planted the seeds, gave them everything they needBut the flowers in our window box don't growLittle buds make their graves as the warmth inside us fadesBut I still don't know shit about letting go

Just give me back, give me back to the ground

When my ghost sings my battle cry you'll be too sorry to dance

Am I the only thing that keeps you safe when the light is gone?

But I still hold out hope that maybe someday I'll be worth more than all the silence left in my way

But if in the end I lose my voiceWill you forget about your love for me?

And when you break the surface oh without mePlease don't return me to the dark of all the memories

The heart is just a muscle with a rhythm all its own It doesn't stop when you decide not to move on The heart knows nothing of your love or of your loss

Album - Coyote Stories

No amount of fear will keep you safe

With the risk of fall I never climbed at allEvery day I told myself“I’m not ready”

Their stories reveal Regrets their smiles can’t conceal

I could have been anyone, anyone else Before you made the choice for me

Bore the shadows that you made With no light of my own

I shine only with the light you gave me

All is fair in love and war, but I can’t fight with you anymoreThis will be the death of me

I'm one deep breath away from a breakdown My nerves are wrecked and coming unwound

I rip myself apart at the seams I find one weak spot and start unravelingHoping I can find a better me

I keep my closet free of skeletons 'Cause I'm much better at digging graves

I've seen good men spoiled Chained to their jobs like houndsThey work and sleep and work againIn the darkest nights they howlTheir cries are a warningTo everyone followingNo man should stand to work all of his daysAnd have nothing at the end of them

I got no money but the changeThat jingles in my pocketsReminding me how little I haveAnd as for time I amPowerless to stop itIt keeps rambling on like a mad, wandering man

And my dear papa gave me Lessons in regretHe said all that he'd done would be for nothingIf I followed in his steps

He taught me that the hand that feeds Deserves to be bitten when it beats

And that no man should get More of my time than me, than me

I may never be a rich man But I can, make sure that I am free

That these hands of mine were clumsy, not cleverAnd I tried to do the best that I couldBut try as I might I couldn't bring myself to hold you

There is love that doesn't have a place to rest But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders

For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you

I want to know that there are lands Not yet touched by human handsI want to be the one to find them

Album - Foxlore

Sure, you can forget about all the things you've done But what about the rest of us?

High-tail it when it gets to be too much What about the rest of us?

Marrow made a wife of Eve But no one gave up a rib for me and mine

Time has changed the metaphor Now, dust is not the origin of boneLittle girl, don't let them sell you any armorAll your ribs are still your own

The time has come for moving on You can't be always trying to dig upWhat you've already buried

Every word I say is kindling But the smoke clears when you're aroundWon't you stay with me, my darlingWhen my walls start burning down, down, down?

You don't have to believe every single thought That tumbles through your headJust 'cause it sounds like you talkingSometimes all you can doIs say goodnight and tuck your demons into bed'Cause they're not worth fighting

What good has ever come of it? What answers will you find?Turn out the lights on your mind

Don't buy me flowers It pains me to watch pretty little things wilt away

Keep the light so dim that you can't see What's out there ahead

If only I could break the chain of disappointments Weighing me downShake off the ghosts that whisper warnings

The crows in the garden are laughing at my expense

Put your ear to my heart or set your teeth against my throatGive me something pretty to wear beneath my blood-stained clothes

Tell the crows they can have their pound of flesh

Get on your knees and dig up the garden Won't you throw down that spade andDig up the garden, darling?Get your hands dirty and rip up the gardenWon't you cut down that apple tree for me?

Album - Here I Am

I thought it would be easier to change How many times can someone start again?How many more times will it take?

Got bombs that are falling on my mind I'm getting used to the noise and light,

I wanna be found I think I'm ready to be hereTie me down, tie me down

This ghost town is making a ghost of me

They shake me off and ask why I bother The answer is simpleMy father, his fatherI come from a long line of people who believeIn the flowers that growIn the cracks in the street

Tender as a bruise Sharper than a razorWraps her tentacles around meLike she'll never let me goFury shakes the rafters, but never in my favorI'm trembling in the eye of the only storm I've ever known

Stop the car, I wanna get outI'm craving open air and solid ground'Cause I've been watching from the backseatWatching the world slipping past me

Like a moth in the night I'm desperate for a minute in the light'Cause everywhere that I goSomething pulls me to the shadows

I'm a fool I've been howling at a hollow moon

Is this a bunker or a shallow grave? Either way I'm leftHolding onto the shovel and ropeDigging in the dirtFinding bones, finding ghosts

Take me in my damaged state Walked a thousand miles to be here againPull apart your useless gamesBut your song sings in my veins, and I'mSinging tooI can't drown you out no matter what I do

I’m just a ten cent copy Of people far more advanced than meEvery thought that I’ve ever hadCould be ripped from a magazineCut me a path, and I will follow itDraw me a line, and I’ll avoid itI’m nothing if not obedientYou have my word

I am not a builder I’m much better at blowing things downI will join the wolfAt my door

I keep tallies I keep scoreI'm a petty thing on a high, high horseYou've got your mouth openI hold my tongueThere's so many things that we can't ignore

Congrats to anyone who made it this far down the post lmao

(Life Series / Trafficblr fans, i see you all and im with you all.)

Europe/Britian/Scotland tour when??? plsplspls i need to see them live on stage!!!

This has been a Crane Wives Appretiation Post , Thank you for Consideration and please listen to their music if you dont already!!!

[itisme-rosie]

-- left unlocked; an au wherein beatrice decided to explore the world and as much as your mind wished to follow, your heart was rooted in the convent you were raised in.

cw: angst!! written with female!reader in mind; mentions of religious themes; reader who grew up in the convent and is questioning everything about herself and her feelings for bea; tried very hard not to include spoilers shown to me by tiktok edits (hold your horses i'm still about to start the 3rd episode of the 1st season).

[ hello, warrior nun fandom, please take me in i've been tweaking over kty for weeks now. ]

masterlist | rules

i fell in love with her here.

surrounded by stone walls and wooden pews, crucifixes and images of saints, and the aching reminder that in the world i was so immersed in, to be different was to be a sheep lost in the wilderness.

could it truly be a sin? i ask myself, hand fisted around the cross on my neck, head turned to the sky as if it would give you an answer - hoping, praying, begging.

could it truly be a sin to love?

soft, hesitant footsteps cut through my thoughts, until they stop. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 seconds pass with no sound of movement and i slowly turn. there she was. sister beatrice. beatrice. just bea when we're alone, i could hear her voice in my head.

"hello," i say simply, smiling at her. a terse silence surrounds the open space we were in, a tense smile crossing her lips.

"hello," beatrice returns the greeting and i let my eyes rake down the unfamiliar clothes she wore.

"are you going somewhere?" i ask, my smile wavering when she glances down at her shoes, "are you accompanying lilith on her trip - beatrice?"

she avoided my eyes. i didn't like that, i didn't like it one bit.

"i'm going on my own trip," beatrice explains in a matter-of-fact tone, the same one she uses when she explains something i know i know but pretend not to, just wanting to hear her.

no, no, no. i blink a few times as though it would rid my mind of the conflicting emotions, the unfamiliar feelings that burst in my stomach and send inexplicable bouts of happiness throughout my body. it didn't, of course. it never did.

"a trip," i parrot, dragging out the last word in a silent request to clarify.

"i'm leaving the convent,"

the fluttering in my stomach stops abruptly.

"leaving?"

"not forever,"

"leaving to go where? i thought -" i pause, shaking my head.

"not for forever," she repeats, "i'll come back,"

"that isn't what i asked, sister,"

i knew the title bothered her when beatrice didn't answer, producing a sweater from her bag and holding it out to me, slowly stepping closer, "hold on to it, a guarantee that i'll come back - and i will come back for it, so take care of it 'til i return, please,"

ever the obedient servant to all, i take it in my arms, hugging it close to me.

"but you could come with me," her voice was quiet, but i heard it clear as day and my stomach lurches and not in the way that it fluttered and made me a laugh.

"i can't leave, you know that," i shake my head, "besides -" i hug the sweater tighter against me, "- i'll be here when you get back, no matter how long,"

"what if i don't come back?"

the way my stomach clenches is painful. "then we have no reason to continue our friendship,"

"why?"

"i made a commitment to the church, bea - sister - beatrice," i clear my throat, "i'm not interested in keeping communications with people who cannot help me fulfill that commitment open - i won't stand for it,"

"would you rather we just end the friendship now, then? close all communications so i don't have any other reason to stay and come back?"

no, no, no. of course i wanted to go with her. my bones, my eyes, my curious mind, only surrounded by the stone walls of the convent longed to be fed by the world beyond it. but my heart, my poor, stubborn heart clung to the idea of the convent and its people as my home. without them, i wasn't myself.

i stiffen slightly, glancing down at the cloth in my arm and a half-hearted scoff leaves my lips.

"fine," i spit angrily. at least i hoped i sounded angry. i hoped i sounded hurt enough that beatrice would decide to stay if only to not hurt me, "consider this as me closing all communications with you, forever,"

bea blinks once, twice, three times. "forever?" she asks quietly and my mouth suddenly feels dry. i swallow thickly, nodding.

"from the second you walk out of the convent doors - away from me, then yes, yes, they will stay closed forever,"

"really?"

i don't think anything can compare, neither can anything properly describe how much my heart hurt when she turned with her bag away from me, not even waiting for an answer.

but the short, real answer was yes. yes, the door will stay closed the second she walked out.

the longer, real answer was that the door wouldn't even be locked. the longwinded explanation was that i would be waiting with the door unlocked, just in case, holding the sweater she left and the broken pieces she didn't even know she left. i would wait come hell or high water for her to turn the knob and walk in again.

the other short answer would be the reminder that even if the door locked itself one day, she always had the spare key.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Lich-Queen, pt 7 (FINAL)

I'M DONE!! AAAAA >:)) Thanks to everyone who followed this thing, I love y'all platonically. Anyways, to anyone who's new, I'll post the full thing soon, so in the meantime have part 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, and the drabble accompaniment that we can pretend is part 4!

Story below cut :D

My steps down the stairs left a trail of blood behind them. I stopped at the base of the stairs, meeting the eyes of my new allies. There was approval in Empress Sucsu'anane's nod, delight in the shifter delegation, and… Horror? Fear? Amongst the elves.

Saivere, the same elf who had been ever so pleasant towards me, stepped forth. “What in Solaria's name have you done? That…” He shook his head violently. “That was wrong. Do you not understand the meaning of the word?”

Empress Sucsu'anane laughed at him. “Young Nari-ilra, do not be rude. All reigns end and begin with bloodshed, even yours. Why should she try to hide it under a veneer of civility? Honesty is a valuable trait,” she told him.

Saivere squared himself resolutely. “This is inhumane,” he insisted. “We just watched an innocent man be tortured to death. I will not stand by and watch this travesty, and if you had any sense, you would not either.”

Like a kindergarten descending into chaos, the people before me divided into two camps. Overlapping voices argued with each other, clamouring and demanding to be listened to. All for little old me! It was absolutely delightful.

When I had grown bored of the fuss, I raised my knife and tapped it on the metal railing. The resulting clang resounded through the hall, silencing the crowd as it went. 

“Now,” I said, into the void of suits. “If you are done bickering like little children, I have a thing or two I'd like to say.” 

Crossing my hands behind my back as straightening up to my full height, I continued, “It has been brought to my attention that we are having a certain… overcrowding issue. We, as immortals and long-lived species, are running out of living space, living space that we deserve. Now, who has been taking that space?”

I paused, and the shifters piped up. “The humans,” they cried, joined in belatedly by the spirits and my ghouls.

“Exactly,” I replied, nodding. “The mortal mayflies. Irritating, multiplying, and absolutely everywhere! Even the spirit-tongue recognises them as Kina-ilra, the everywhere people. Bad enough that they pop up all over the place, but that they are driving us out of our lands? That they are moving into our cities and taking up jobs that belong to our people and coming up with new technologies? That they have forgotten their place?”

Saivere's face fell. “Have you forgotten your past? You were a human once too,” he cried.

“Don't hold it against me,” I quipped, grinning at him. Yes, the flow of the crowd was turning against him. I could feel its heartbeat, the crashing waves of murmurs. “I'm trying to put those days behind me.”

Saivere opened his mouth to rebut me, and I hushed him again. The creases of anger and worry on his forehead gave me another idea. I took a mocking bow towards him. “You know, ladies, gentlemen, and eternal abominations, we all have one thing in common. Can anybody tell me what it is?”

From the crowd, someone piped up. “We're all inhuman?”

“Do you hear that? That's human centric language right there.” The rhetoric of Queendom was coming to me. “We need to stop that. Tell me, what unites us?  We're all Ilre, Kitzche, immortals! That's what defines us, not that we aren't forsaken mayflies.”

“But the elves aren't immortal,” another member of the elven delegation shouted. There was a distinct aura of gotcha from him. Oh, we were going to see who had gotten who soon enough. “We just happen to have long lifespans.”

I stepped forward, and the elves stepped back. “Exactly. Tell me, who taught the humans machinery? Who helped them with agriculture, encouraged democracy within their borders? Which non-immortal species is currently infringing on the Cescere spirit's lands?”

A dangerous hush descended upon them. I smiled even wider, grateful for my new face, for I could literally smile ear to ear now. “Tell me… Who is just as much to blame as any human?”

The answer came in a ripple, as much magic as any spell. The elves. The nari-ilra. The mortals. All of them. Every last one. Not a good one amongst them. Fingers sharpened to claws, weapons drawn. 

The elves never stood a chance.

I watched Saivere be shredded before my very eyes, letting his gore mingle with Tamaris'. I grasped his severed head and lifted it up. By the gods, if my sister could see me now. She would weep with horror and fear, to see what I had become. I revelled in the thought that I had become the very monster she so desperately sought to stop. That in the end, she was the powerless oracle, and I the great necromancer. That all her prophecies were not enough to prevent the fate I had so craved.

“Look at this,” I commanded. My people obeyed.

“This is a sign of our new regime,” I announced. My people listened.

“We will kill every human, and then we will rule atop their corpses!”

And my people cheered for me, their Lich-Queen.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@ramitola, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29 (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[unpopularly-opinionated]

My thoughts on Destiny 2: Episode 2: Revenant: Act 1 so far. Spoilers below, but the TL;DR (it's just a really long yapfest below, guys) is that Bungie somehow keeps hitting new lows. Not only has the quantity of content dropped significantly between Echos and Revenant, but the quality of said-content has dropped pretty significantly as well. We're in for a rough 6 weeks.

So uh... I've always been under the notion that Bungie is a, shall we say, mediocre company these days. Destiny 2, while still unfortunately a one of a kind, has been mediocre for the past like 3-4 years. Sure, it's had its ups, but it's had a lot more downs, let's be honest. It's a one of a kind, so I keep coming back, and I'll likely keep coming back due to sunk cost. I won't pretend that anything I'm about to say will dissuade me from hyping it up in the future.

So far, after playing a couple of hours of this new episode, I'm alarmed to put it mildly over just how low the bar of quality has fallen.

To start, whether due to a bug or an intentional change, a quality of life feature was removed for seemingly no reason, that being the ability to press F1 + Tab to quickly open your Director without having to hold Tab for a few seconds. This is a small ding against the game (albeit a frustrating as hell one), to be sure, but I wouldn't have made an entire post about this if that was the only ding.

Now, just to clarify, this isn't isolated to just this episode. It just so happens that I didn't get a chance to play the final act of Ep. 1, so I was trying to do that before I began Ep. 2. One of the quests in the final act had you gather some parts from a lost sector--a standard filler mission, this isn't the complaint. The complaint comes from the fact that the 'item' you receive when you pick up each object is clearly a stand-in neon pink default texture. Really, they couldn't be bothered to give it any texture otherwise? Okay then.

Then, in this episode, we're introduced to the jankiest potion brewing mechanic ever. I would add "most confusing" as well, but I'll chalk that up to my inattentiveness when it came to the introduction of it. So you go to the table to select a recipe, which I think costs materials to select because sometimes you can only select one, other times two, but never all of them, but you eventually get all of them very quickly anyhow so gating them doesn't matter really. But then you go and grab the ingredients from the shelves, then you go through a series of button presses to play little animations. One of them was bugged for me, I guess, and I was meant to turn into a chicken but it was invisible for me. Maybe it was an invisible chicken? I doubt it.

The jank though comes from the item they put in your inventory, something which we've never really had happen before now. Before now, if Bungie wanted you to interact with an item, they'd put it in your Quest Log and have you right click on it from there. They did that this time around, putting the spot to view and drink your potions in your Quest Log. Only, if you try and open it from your Quest Log, it'll bug out and disable your mouse, preventing you from actually doing anything. Because the intended way of opening it isn't from your Quest Log, it's from your Inventory where this brand new tab appeared. So I ask, why even bother putting it in our Quest Log? I imagine because this game is held together by rubber bands and Kraft glue that it needs to be in your Quest Log in order to work at all, because instead of just building a new mechanic to allow you to open it from your Inventory, they had to just build on top of the mechanic they already had in the game to allow you to open it from your Quest Log. It's just kind of lazy, but whatever.

And then come all of the narrative snafus with this new episode. I knew something was off when the intro mission to this episode had us storm Riis Reborn to capture Eramis, and at the end we see this in-game conversation between her and Crow, where Crow very calmly asks her to come in so that justice can be served, but also so he can help her and her people who are being hunted by Fikrul. It's a very calm, collected conversation where eventually Eramis peacefully gives herself up to being captured. Then we immediately jump to a cutscene on the HELM where Crow's got a gun pointed at her, shouting about how she's a super dangerous criminal and telling her not to try anything. His aggro went from 0 to 100 in a second for no reason at all, it was just really jarring.

From this point on, Eramis is locked inside a prison cell in the new/updated HELM space Bungie made, which I will grant looks very nice all things considered. She's completely accessible by the player, by the way, a point which I bring up because later we get a quest step that says "Speak to Eramis on the Holoprojector" which I'd call lazy, but the irony is that I think it's technically more effort to create a Holoprojector conversation with Eramis then it would be to just have the player walk ten feet away from the Holoprojector to the prison cell she's currently held in, and talk to her there.

If you go through the portal to the old HELM, which is now partly destroyed and presumably in some hangar somewhere to be repaired, you can go to the front of the ship where the windows are, which are now broken and busted out. If you look outside of them, you can see the edges of like the skybox or whatever you want to call it. You can see the corner of the room object that the HELM space is held inside of. It's super janky looking. And like, Bungie's always had this kind of stuff, I realize that. But typically you have to go out of your way to find that sort of thing. Whereas with this, you literally just walk to the front of the ship and you see it. Like I don't know, Bungie, add in a smoke effect or something to obscure my vision of the seams. It just feels like whoever was supposed to finish the HELM got fired before they could finish, which is the "excuse" I've been half-jokingly making with all of these nitpicks.

This one you could theoretically chalk up to just being a nitpick because what I'm pointing out is merely just a narrative detail that I disagreed with based on how Bungie's done this in the past. One mission has us go to this Tangled Shore-looking map where we're trying to save a bunch of Eliksni. Crow TPs in where you spawn and says a few things, then points to a cave ten feet away from you where Fikrul is just chilling. He TPs away, again even though this cave is hardly ten feet away from us, but whatever. I get that Bungie doesn't have a standard running animation that they can use on NPCs to have them run to a certain point during narrative moments (oh wait).

Anyways, you go into the cave where Fikrul is. Deadbeat Daddy Crow TPs back in to talk to his son. His son hates him, go figure, and decides to turn all of the Scorn surrounding us at that moment against us. Now, in any other scenario, we would've gotten a standard "hold them off, Guardian, while I go chase after Fikrul" or something to that effect. Some sort of narrative indication that we're meant to kill the enemies surrounding us while the NPC goes and does NPC things. Instead, we get "DAMMIT!" before Crow TPs out, leaving us surrounded by Scorn. No acknowledgement that we're surrounded by enemies or anything, or how it's on us to handle it. Deadbeat Daddy Crow just ups and abandons us like we're his kid or something.

This wouldn't have bothered me as much as it did if I didn't already know and understand how Bungie usually writes these things. Yes, I'm aware the mission isn't difficult. I wasn't even slightly concerned with the fact that he left us surrounded by Scorn. The problem I had was that, narratively, Crow or any of the Vanguard would never just up and abandon the Guardian without so much as a word as to why they're abandoning them.

I think perhaps the biggest criticism I have so far though is that this is it for Act 1? The change they made between episodes to allow us to effectively binge all of Act 1 all at once I believe to be a good one, but now that I'm done with Act 1, I'm scratching my head wondering how the fuck they were ever planning to draw this out in the first place.

One of the missions they sent you on is like ten seconds long. You spawn in on Nessus, right at the spot where you need to be. You drink a potion at a table that does something I guess. Maybe like 20 Scorn spawn around you, only one yellow bar. You kill them in seconds and that's that. That's the mission. So I'm sitting here asking myself: "Holy shit, would that have been the weekly mission if this was still being time gated week-by-week?" A mission that seriously takes all of like 2 minutes if you don't include the dialog that you listen to after its over and you're waiting for the "Mission End" timer to go down.

Altogether, there's only three missions in Act 1. The mission where you capture Eramis at the beginning, the mission I just mentioned above where you drink a potion and kill some Scorn for two minutes, and the mission I mentioned even further up where Deadbeat Daddy Crow abandons you like you're his second child. And I've looked around and I'm apparently not alone in thinking this is crazy short.

Six weeks until Act 2 comes out, and seven weeks after that until Act 3 drops. I feel like Bungie blew their load in Echos, it being the first of these "Episodes" they introduced us to, and now comes the real new standard we should expect for Destiny 2's future. Our options are either an hour of content with a 6-7 week break in between, or an hour of content stretched unimaginably thin for 6-7 weeks. Either way, sad sad times ahead for Destiny 2. It seems like not only should we be expecting less quantity content, but less quality content as well.

Anyways, can't wait to play more of it. Blah blah blah, yap fest over.

[streamdotpng]

Enid tries to not take scenes too seriously while filming. Her whole thing is being a good actress, someone who can give it their all, not take it heart, make it feel real.

But fuck. It hurt to pretend fight with Wednesday. It hurt to shout at and be shouted at, it hurt to see Wednesday's face tighten and constrict with well-fsked anger.

It hurts.

She tries hard to hide it- very hard, and very well.

She's a good actress. She hides it. She doesn't want Wednesday to think she can't take it. They're so far into filming! A replacement now could push this project back months or even years!

She tries extra hard to push it down at home. Don't bring work home, happy wife, happy life, all that good stuff.

But one day it just hits.

It was so small. Enid wasn't watching where she was going and hit a doorframe and Wednesday was there and called her an idiot with that fond tone but Wednesday also called her an idiot during a shoot earlier and it felt real and-

She bawls. Wails. Breaks down in the entrance of their shared kitchen.

Wednesday's got a hand in her hair, another rubbing her ribs and it helps but also doesn't but it does-

Enid cries for a good while. The sun was nearing it's drip over the skyline, and by the time she's done, the sky's gone black.

It's nearing winter. Maybe she isn't as pathetic as she thinks she is.

"Dear," Wednesday starts, soft voiced in a way only Enid is privy to. "Are you alright? Do you wish to talk?"

"You yelled at me." It's all she can muster, meager and weak and pathetic.

She's pathetic.

"When, Cara Mia? I never mean to raise my voice."

"Durin' the fuckin'- the- the shoot. Part of the shoot. It was part of the shoot, part of the shoot, part of the shoot, part of the shoot, part of t-"

"Enid." Wednesday's voice has a finality to it. A sturdiness. "I understand you are distressed. But breathe, sweetheart."

Enid hadn't even realized she'd stopped breathing or that her claws were out or she'd been scratching her arms bloody.

"Right, right, right yup, you're ri- correct. I need to breath."

"You need to breath." Wednesday parrots.

They sit sit for a bit. A few moments. Minutes, maybe. Wednesday's thumb rubs circles into her forearm, the other hand placed lovingly on her cheek, cupping it warmly.

Loving.

"I know you didn't mean it," Enid starts, careful and slow and shaky and hurt, "but you yelled during the scene earlier -and it's part of the fucking script- but you sounded so mad-" tears in her fucking eyes like she's a fucking child.

"My wolf," Wednesday wipes the tears before they fall and it's such a tender action it makes Enid cry just a little harder. "I.."

She kisses Enid's forehead quietly, brushes her bangs back.

"I'm sorry. I meant nothing of the anger I gave you. It was fake."

"I know!-" Enid sobs, and her body rattles with it, "but it -fuck- it felt real!"

She takes a big breath to calm herself. Swallows air and spit and hurt.

"I know you never meant it- always give me kisses to make up for it, but you sound so convincing and it hurts so bad. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn't wanna hurt you or make you feel bad or like you had to delay or end the movie just because of me!"

She pants.

"It makes me feel like shit because both our characters have good points and it feels like we're having a real fight. It makes this part of me feel like our relationship is on the rocks and about to end and i want to break down and cry because of it."

Wednesday holds her.

It helps.

It's real.

"We're taking a break." No room for argument in her voice. Enid swallows. It's just spit she swallows now.

"A couple of weeks, maybe 3 or 4 if you need- and you will not lie."

"Okay. Okay." It's the first time in a few weeks she feels like she can breath unrestricted.

"Okay."

(Apologies if this isn't lore correct all the way through- I'm still new to your blog and AUs and what-not.)

man anon, you got me teary and shit. This is amazing! its totally alright for stuff to not be lore correct, i'll prob just offhandedly mention it but this is definitely how i'd do it too

i love it so much, just the way enid tends to shoulder things and just how willing Wednesday is to help her through it

its amazing man 😥you write them so well

[patchwork-crow-writes]

A Heart, Brimming With Light

Part 1: Endings and Beginnings

He had always known this day would come.

The adventure was finished. The threat of the Roaring had been averted. And the balance between Light and Dark had been restored. Their immediate purpose fulfilled, the darkners visiting from their respective worlds had been returned to their rightful places, to continue their roles as assistants to the lightners that had need of them.

And now, there was only one thing left to do.

Something much more difficult, more painful, than forcing a Titan back. Something he'd always known he'd have to do since meeting them. Something he'd managed to put off wondering about, something he'd almost succeeded in convincing himself couldn't possibly happen until suddenly it was happening and Ralsei had no idea what to do or how to be when the two most important people in his short, sad life - the most important person to him - were ready to shrug off the mantle of "heroes" as easily as if it were a tatty overcoat, and go back to their humdrum, enchanted lives as teenagers.

'Hey, cheer up Ralsei,' said Susie, knocking his shoulder gently with a clawed fist and shooting him a toothy grin. 'Y'know we're gonna be coming straight back here after school tomorrow, right? So ya better have somethin' absolutely freaking DELICIOUS for us when we get here!'

He clutched the spot where she made contact, pretending to wince. She rolled her eyes, but snorted in approval when he broke out into a wide smile and a sly wink.

'Of course, Susie!' he chirped, 'it would be my pleasure. Is there, um, any flavour you would prefer…?'

'How 'bout you surprise us? It's no fun if you just TELL us what it's gonna be in advance! Right Kris?'

All eyes fell onto the human, looking for their response. But it seemed as if they hadn't heard her. Their head was bowed slightly, as if daydreaming.

'…Kris?' said Susie, waving a hand in front of their face. 'Hey, Kris, you in there?'

'It's, um… it's okay,' said Ralsei, gently lowering her arm with a pat. 'I'm… sure they're just tired after everything that's happened. Some rest will do them some good, I'm sure.'

'Arright, DAD. Whatever you say. So, big ass cake tomorrow, yeah? To celebrate our win and all that crap.'

The caprine hummed quietly, but something in his expression must have leaked through, because his friend's eyebrow lifted slightly and her exuberent smile became a terse frown.

'…hey, uh, Ralsei. Is everythin'…'

'You… don't have to.'

Susie blinked. 'Don't… have to what?'

'Come back here tomorrow.'

'But hey… wait, what? You kidding, toothpaste boy? Why wouldn't we, huh?'

He did his best to repress a sigh. She really was the best… even if she'd never admit as much. And his heart sank just that little bit lower.

'…Kris isn't the only one who's tired,' he said. 'That last fight… took a lot out of all of us. I'm barely holding it together myself right now, haha. And I know you're putting on a superb facade, Susie, but… well, you need rest too. We all do, I think. So, why don't we give tomorrow, um, a miss and you can come back here the day after, hm?'

'But that's Sunday, dude. And besides, I ain't tired at all! You nerds just can't keep up with my… my--'

The dragoness's maw hinged open to let forth a mighty yawn, almost roarlike in its ferocity. Then she seemed to realise what she was doing halfway through, and clamped her jaws shut with a snap.

'…liar,' Ralsei smirked, adjusting his glasses.

'Yeah WELL,' she intoned through clenched teeth, 'It's cause you're all so BORING and shit. All "you should give hugs more often, Susie", and "look after your wellbeing, Susie". You're really annoying, and boring, and lame, and I… I, uhh…'

Another yawn cut her tirade short.

'…okay FINE I guess I am a little tired. Happy now?'

The prince gave her a smile, taking her hand in his before she could withdraw it. Ahh, how warm her touch, how soothing the feel of her hand enveloping his! If only he could somehow reach across destiny and take hold of his friends whenever he wished… if only he could know that warmth until the end of time… maybe then, he could bear what had to come next.

'Rest well, both of you,' said the prince softly. 'And thank you both so much for everything you've done. You're every bit the heroes I thought you'd be. A-and I, um… well, I'll miss… I mean, I'll… see you soon. Okay?'

'You got it, man,' replied Susie, returning the smile.

Then, Ralsei turned to Kris, who still seemed lost in thought. He deliberated for a moment, before unwinding his scarf and handing it to them.

'Something to remember our time together by,' he said. 'Take… um, take good care of it. Okay?'

They stared at it for a moment, seeming baffled by the gesture, and the prince was afraid they might not accept it. But then, they seemed to understand, and reached out to gently take the bundle of fabric from his hands. Their fingers brushed lightly against his skin, in a slow way that almost made it seem deliberate. But Ralsei had never been good at reading Kris's mood or intent., not even at this last vital juncture.

'W-well,' he said, no longer able to hide his cheeks flushed pink,'I, um… think it suits you, Kris…'

He was cut short as they scooped him up into a tight hug, and the rosy glow upon Ralsei's face became burning scarlet. The refreshing scent of apples washed through the prince's nostrils, and a hint of something else, that unmistakable Kris-scent that reminded him so much of a home he lost long ago.

To have lost it once was unfortunate. To lose it all over again, like this…

'Hey… Hey Ralsei,' said Susie, 'You just gonna give Kris your scarf and not give ME anything?! What gives, dude?'

'You've already extorted a cake from me, in case you forgot,' he replied, still glowing from Kris's embrace. 'This way, you have something to, um, look forward to when you come back! And if you still want a scarf for yourself, then… well, I'll knit you one, how's that sound?'

Susie tch'd, rolling her eyes. 'Yeah, I mean I GUESS that's fine…'

'Good! Then… well, you'd best be going, hadn't you? It wouldn't do to keep all your friends and family waiting, would it now?'

'Yeah, yeah, we hear ya,' Susie waved a claw lazily at him. 'C'mon Kris, let's leave his royal highness alone for a bit, if that's what he wants.'

No, he wanted to scream. No, it's not! Stay, please, just for another minute! Don't step back into the light, because when you do…

The lightners' shadows grew long as they stepped towards the doorway back to their world, footsteps echoing in the void between them, louder than the frantic beating of Ralsei's breaking heart.

'Good-bye, my beloved friends…' he whispered to their backs, as light swallowed their forms without trace. 'I wish you nothing but happiness and love, back where you belong…'

Kris turned, scarf clutched tightly in their hands, and opened their mouth as if to say something in return.

And then, the light flickered, faded, and was gone. And the only sound that could be heard in the darkness then was the lonely prince's faint, broken sobbing.

____________________________________________________________

A day passed. Two days. A week. And the lightners did not return.

His footsteps echoed through the forlorn castle, the stonework creaking with old memories. He shouldn't have been surprised. He shouldn't have been so bitterly crushed by it. The truth was self-evident - darkness and light could never mix for long, except during times of great need. With that need now fulfilled, the light would cleanse their memories of their adventures, of the hardships and triumphs they had shared…

…and of him, as well.

This was not a secret to Ralsei. He had known this would happen from the moment of his inception, and he had acknowledged it as an immutable law of the cosmos. It was for the good of all worlds, after all, and that knowledge would sustain him in his loneliness.

But a spark had ignited in his heart, which corroded that unfeeling logic and overturned all rational thought. The deathly light of hope burned Ralsei, small but blindingly bright amidst the otherwise-unbroken abyss of the dark world, a fire that comforted him with the faint possibilty that they might yet return, even as it chilled him with the disappointment that they would likely never think of him ever again.

It was a light that could not hope to survive contact with reality. But no matter how hard he tried, the Prince of the Dark could not completely extinguish it. And so it seared him anew each day, wearing away at his resolve and driving him to resentment at his cruel fate.

What reward was this, for helping to save reality? To have his heart filled and buoyed up by love and friendship, only to have it sink back into the primordial nothingness? Where was the fairness in that?

Next to this monstrous injustice, no memory could offer succour, no matter how wonderful it was.

Finally, he arrived at his destination. The crooked blue door had faded slightly - its purpose long-since fulfilled, it was now destined to return to the formless dark that had created this world. But Ralsei still had need of it, and would not let it fade without one final purpose.

The room beyond was achingly empty. Gone were the bedside tables and drawers, that had been piled high with shiny trinkets and thoughtful gifts. Gone was the large wardrobe off in the corner, which contained every conceivable outfit that a young person working themself out could ever hope for. Gone was the immaculate bed, soft as a waking dream, and the trophy-stacked shelves that had hung dangerously over it. Gone were the stars, placed there by the prince's own hand and imbued with gentle magic that made them twinkle so prettily in the dark….

Now, it was just an empty room, its bare walls scrubbed of all sentiment. Providence had been thorough and efficient in disposing of its props when they were no longer called for, and it was only through a tremendous force of will that Ralsei had been able to keep hold of this forlorn shell from slipping into oblivion. Here, then, was the very last space in this world that tied him back to the light; back, however tenuously, to Kris.

He set down some objects on the floor, carefully laying them out as if they were each divine relics… which from a certain point of view, they were. Objects that had been gathered together on his many adventures with the lightners, appropriated for their seeming significance, though he'd hardly understood why at the time. But now he knew, and it was with great apprehension and anticipation that he set them out in preparation for his ritual.

A moth-eaten jumper, its green and yellow stripes faded by time. Gloves and socks, all of completely different colours, patterns and sizes, that had been lost over the years behind chests of drawers and computer desks. A small shock of brown hair, the only surviving memento of a disasterous attempt at a self-haircut. A well-worn pencil that had been chewed and sharpened down to a misshapen nub. And tying it all together, a heart-shaped box of tooth-decaying, gut-destroying chocolates, wrapped up pretty with a large blue ribbon.

Ralsei cast a weary eye over the arrangement. All junk, all of it. No longer worthy of purpose, the dark did not bless them with form or thought. But he would give them new purpose, and with it would come new form, and new thought. Such would be his final act as Prince of the Dark.

…well then. No more stalling.

Standing before the display, clasping his hands together as tightly as he could manage, Ralsei closed his eyes and prayed. Almost at once his magic responded, manifesting as smoky wisps of green that trailed through the air around him. Once a spell for healing, he had turned it to a new function, and the cords of his will snaked their way down to the effigy lying at his feet, clinging to clothes and hair and heart-shaped object like stubborn memories that refused to die.

They meant nothing to anyone. No-one would miss them. But gathered here now, bathed in a pallid glow, they meant something to Ralsei. They meant so much to him. He would use that power - the very same power that had breathed life into him, oh so long ago. And he would never, ever be lonely again.

Something tugged at the forefront of his mind, and he felt the magic streaming from his body run taut - a connection had been established. He willed himself to remain calm, to not become overexcited - seconds later, however, his burgeoning joy dipped into concern, and then panic, as the spell, greedy for more power, began to draw yet more energy from his form. The prince tried to pull it back, to stem the onrushing tide, but to no avail.

Could he have miscalculated? He had known there was a risk, that no darkner alive could hope to harness the scope of magicks required to perform such a blasphemous act. But such depth of feeling coursed through him, such longing and such heartbreak, that he had assumed would suffice for his purposes. He had not reckoned upon his own creation attempting to wrest it from him in its formative moments.

The tide of power became an unstoppable storm surge, draining into the prone body and disappearing without trace. Viscous pain poured crimson from Ralsei's chest, spreading through his body like an out-of-control conflagration, as every last drop of his energy and focus was siphoned into the rogue spell. And as his mind grew hazy and his vision blurred, a strange resignation washed over him.

It didn't matter what happened to him, really. This, after all, was an act of profound love. If he had to die so that his masterwork could live… in a way, it would be like immortality, of a sort. His energy, his will, would live on through them. And that wouldn't be so bad, now would it…?

Then… CRACK.

The psychic blowback from the spell's breaking sent Ralsei careening backwards, almost as far as the doorway leading to the rest of the castle. There he lay, dazed and bewildered, while the world around him spun and swayed like a jittering carousel. The pain from earlier seemed very far away and unimportant, until suddenly it was upon him again, collecting in his lungs and manifesting in a shuddering coughing fit. Then, once he had ejected the worst of it from himself, the fatigue rushed in to take its place, filling him with a cool torpor that pinned him in place.

What had happened? Clearly the exertion hadn't killed him - he was much too alive for that - but why had the connection shattered so abruptly? He had never experienced such a thing before - there again, he had never attempted something that required so much energy as this. To heal was merely to repair what already existed - you had a template to follow. But this - attempting to create something entirely new - this was the work of a god, and would require equivalent levels of determination and power.

Had… had his grand experiment failed…? Was he truly destined to remain alone for the rest of his life, waiting for the Quiet to overcome him as it would everything else?

He heard it before he saw it - the rustling of clothes, the scraping of a soft hand against rugged stone, a sharp, deep intake of breath. Then, footsteps, stomping and irregular, growing louder, louder… still louder…

And then, a face loomed into vision. So familiar and yet… etched onto that angelic visage was an expression of clear concern and fear, eyes shimmering with questions, deep sadness and curiosity and love, all at once. An unseen hand squeezed his paw, sending warmth running through the prince's ice-cold veins.

'…are you okay…?' the person asked.

Ralsei attempted to say something back, his quivering heart fit to shatter completely, but could only manage the first syllable before darkness overtook him and he knew no more.

'Kr…'