#but that the dream was written first and the rest of the book constructed as a framework to hold it

[mikkeneko]

Of course she'd like the stairs scene. This is the woman who wrote Deep Secrets

I keep seeing posts about the differences between the book and the Ghibli adaptation of Howl's Moving Castle, and honestly there's a totally charming interview with Diana Wynne-Jones at the end of the kindle edition about how it worked :)

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Five

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So… I decided I couldn’t leave this fic the way I had, before buggering off for a week… finished my book and had some time to kill in the evenings so managed to get this written 🥹… I do wanna give one warning for this particular chapter… If anyone is triggered by anything pregnancy related, read at your own risk. I apologise in advance, this chapter is pretty heavy but it will all come together I promise ♥️)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three Four

“You said yes?” Joel asked, frowning when you nodded in reply.

“Why?”

“Because we’re having a baby Joel!” You growled back

“Do you love him?”

“No, but-”

“So you’ll marry a man you don’t love because he knocked you up but won’t be with me?” He spat “You claim to be in love with me and I told you I’m in love with you but you decided that we’re no good for each other and carried on your casual relationship with Ant. Now you’re pregnant and marrying him?”

“Joel-“

“You never even gave us a chance.” He choked, hurt saturating his tone. “You never gave me a chance to fight for us.”

“We’re not good for each other Joel!” You argued and he let out an exasperated sigh as he ran his hand through his hair for what must have been the hundredth time that evening.

“How do you know?” he growled. “When we’re together, we are amazing! We make each other laugh and smile, and Sarah adores you… I know you love her.”

“It’s not that simple Joel.” You choked “I’m pregnant with another man's child!”

“And I will love it as if it were my own!” He argued, “If you give me a chance I will love you and that baby with every fibre of my being.”

“What about Ant?”

“Does he love you?” Joel asked and you shook your head.

“I don’t think so.”

“So you’re both willing to spend the rest of your lives in a loveless marriage, just because he got you pregnant?” Joel’s statement made you pause.

He was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you. Ant deserved to spend his life with a woman he loved and you deserved to marry the man of your dreams. Yet there was a baby to think about now.

“I’ll need to talk to Ant about this.” You stated plainly and Joel nodded.

“That’s all I ask.”

You both sat in a tense sort of silence for a while. Neither of you knew what to say. Joel watched you as you hugged yourself tighter, resting your chin on your knees.

“Are you happy?” He asked and you looked at him with a quizzical expression “About the baby?”

“I guess.” You replied with a shrug “I’ve always wanted to be a mum but I had hoped I’d be married first. Maybe a little older.” You paused, looking away again and fixing your gaze on something Joel couldn’t see “With the man I love.” You said quietly as silent tears started to slip down your cheeks.

“You were there for me when Sarah was thrust into my life.” He said as he stood up and made his way over to you, sitting down and pulling you into his arms “I will be here for you too! We’ll get through this together.”

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I promise.”

You smiled at him, gave him a slight nod then rested your head on his chest. Soaking in the solid, calming presence of him.

“I’m scared Joel.” You choked, snuggling in closer to him.

“I know sweetheart.” He said softly as he placed a tender kiss on the crown of your head “But everything is gonna be okay.”

…

You didn’t go to the aquarium with Joel, but he wasn’t all that surprised. Come Monday morning you were back at your desk and putting on a brave face. Joel had promised not to mention the baby to anyone for the time being.

“I’m not going to marry Ant.” You informed him over lunch that afternoon.

“No?”

“You were right.” You confessed as you steeped your peppermint teabag in the mug in your hands, dunking the teabag in and out of the boiling water “We don’t love each other and it would be wrong to trap each other in a loveless marriage. Not fair on us or the baby.”

Joel nodded but didn’t say anything.

“He wants to be involved though. We’re going to try and work out a schedule once the baby’s arrived.”

“It’s great that he wants to be involved.” Joel piped up and you nodded and smiled in agreement.

“It’s not the way either of us wanted this to happen but there’s a baby’s coming and we’re going to love them all the same.”

“Of course you will.” Joel beamed, giving you a warm smile.

“There was something I wanted to ask you.” You confessed after a short pause.

“Shoot.”

“I booked an ultrasound. It's in a month and wondered if you would come with me?” You asked shyly, looking up at Joel through your lashes.

“Can’t Ant go?”

“He’ll be back at College by then so won’t be able to get back for it.” You answered nervously “I get it if you don’t want to come but I just thought-“

“Of course, I will come with you.” Joel stopped your rambling, placing a hand on yours “We’re in this together remember?”

“I remember.” You choked and he smiled sweetly at you.

“How far along will you be by then?” He asked and you gave him a sheepish look as you answered.

“Around 13 weeks.”

“So he knocked you up…”

“The night we went for drinks, yeah.” You confessed.

“We were a bit drunk and, apparently, not very careful.”

“Pip-“

“I know what you’re gonna say Joel and you’re right but in my defence… I was cut up over Simon and I was just looking for some meaningless rebound sex.”

“Hey, I’m not exactly one to judge.” Joel chuckled “Didn’t even know I’d gotten Eliza pregnant!”

“Was wrong of her to keep that from you.”

“It was.” He agreed “But she gave me Sarah and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

“She’s a pretty special girl.”

“That she is.” He agreed with a grin.

“Thank you, Joel.”

“For what?” He asked with a confused smile.

“For everything.” You replied with a shrug “For talking me out of marrying a man I don’t love… for helping me keep my head.”

“You did the same for me.”

“Yeah but… I’ve made a lot of dumb fucking decisions lately. After the breakup with Simon, confessing my feelings to you and finding out you had a baby… I just kinda lost sight of shit for a while.”

“I haven’t exactly made stellar decisions either.”

“Well no but… despite me pushing you away, you’ve stuck by me and I… I’m just really glad you’re in my life.”

“I always will be.” He assured you, leaning forward in his chair “No matter what happens between us. I will always be here.”

You gave him a tearful nod and a small smile. Glad of your tea occupy your shaky hands. Things were scary and uncertain but you felt confident that Joel would stick by you no matter what and that in turn, made you wonder if not being together was the right decision after all.

…

You were just finishing giving Sarah her bottle when Joel emerged with two plates piled high with slices of pepperoni pizza.

“My hero.” You cooed at Sarah and you popped her over your shoulder and rubbed her back to coax out the burp you knew would follow. It had taken a few tries to find the best way to pull them out of her but after trying out many different techniques; back rubbing came out on top.

“How’s the sickness?” He asked as he placed your plate down on the table beside you.

“It’s, basically, completely disappeared.” You replied, “Thought it usually went on longer but I guess it can ease off sooner.”

“Have you spoken to your OB about it?”

Joel asked, trying to hide his concern at the fact your symptoms seemed to have vanished. Your scan was in a few days and you were a mixture of excited and terrified.

“I haven’t. Not had any concerning symptoms so I’m sure everything is okay.”

Joel nodded, giving you a small smile before you returned your attention to Sarah who was kicking and stomping away in her rocker you’d just placed her in.

“I am convinced she’s trying to march somewhere.” You chuckled as you placed her bottle down and picked up a slice of pizza.

“As soon as she’s able to walk we’re going to be in big trouble.’ Joel chuckled, not noticing how you had tensed at the word ‘we’.

You hadn’t spoken about the potential relationship that Joel and laid on the table a month ago. You had decided it was probably best to focus on the baby for the time being and perhaps revisit the conversation once you knew all was well.

Joel had already started to talk about how Sarah would react to a little brother or sister, and it both warmed you and terrified you in equal measure. You were thrilled to know that if you and Joel did decide to pursue a relationship with each other, he was all in with this baby. It also scared you how ready he was to take on another man's child. Would he change his mind further down the line?

He and Ant looked nothing alike which meant that when this baby was born, it wasn't going to look anything like him. Would he decide then that he didn't want to raise a child that wasn't his? You knew these thoughts were unreasonable. Joel was probably more excited about this baby than you were.

But...

That didn't stop the nagging voice in the back of your mind that told you that this man was too good to be true. Despite knowing him for several years and seeing how perfect he truly was, your hormones wanted to scare you… plant doubt in your heart.

"You're thinkin' loudly." Joel chuckled, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Just got a lot on my mind is all." You confessed. It wasn't a complete lie.

You and Ant had been speaking on the phone about him potentially moving in for a few months after the baby was born so that he could help. You knew Joel would hate that idea but you wanted to be fair to Ant. This was his baby just as much as it was yours and if he wanted to be there to help with night feeds and nappy changes then you were willing to let him.

"Wanna share with the class?" He asked and you shrugged in reply "You don't have to tell me." He said then before picking up another slice of pizza "Just know that I am here to listen. Whatever you wanna talk about."

"I know Joel." You replied with a small smile.

Sarah's screeching pulled your and Joel's attention back to her. She was grinning at the two of you and you felt like the girl knew that you loved each other. You pictured her doting over the baby growing inside of you. She'd be coming up to her first birthday by the time your little one was born. It was exciting to think about how they would grow up together. Perhaps Joel would build them a castle in the backyard so they can play and explore and expand their imaginations. When you thought about that future you saw it with Joel by your side. Perhaps a few years down the line, you may have a baby of your own. When Sarah and this little bean were a little older. It was a nice mental picture.

One that the more you thought about it, the more you yearned for it.

Perhaps it was time to revisit that conversation with Joel. He hadn't pushed you for anything. He was patient and supportive but you know it must be killing him, desperate to know how you felt about him. So you decided then and there that after your scan you would have that conversation with him. He deserved to have his mind put at ease. It was the least you could do for him.

...

Joel drove you to your appointment, his old rock playing through the speakers as Austin's streets shot past the window.

"Ant asked if he could move in with me after the baby's born." You piped up, unsure why you were bringing it up now.

"Oh?"

"It will be purely platonic." You assured him "He just wants to be there to help for the first few months. Take some of the load off."

"That seems fair."

"He's the baby's father and I feel like he deserves to be there."

"You're right." Joel's answer surprised you and you looked at him in shock, your mouth flapping as you tried to figure out what to say "If the wind changes your face'll stay like that." Joel chuckled, pulling you from your shocked state.

"You're not angry at the idea?"

"Why would I be?" Joel seemed genuinely confused.

"Just thought... Well, I assumed that you'd hate the idea."

"I get it." Joel replied, "I know if I was in his shoes with Sarah I would have wanted that option."

"So you're okay with it?"

"Do I have any right not to be?" He asked and you shrugged.

"Guess not."

"Look, we haven't made any promises to each other. Sure I hope that further down the line we might talk about us again but I understand that you have bigger things to worry about right now."

"Yeah?" You asked and he nodded.

"I will be waiting for when you're ready Pip." He stated with a smile that made your heart race "No pressure from me."

...

You were nervous as you sat in the waiting room and waited for your name to be called. Joel was a calming presence beside you. His hand holding yours and his arm resting gently against yours acting as an anchor, keeping you rooted in the choppy ocean of your mind. When your name was called you looked up at the nurse and smiled, giving her a shy wave and standing up, Joel's hand staying firmly in yours as you followed her into the examination room.

You were so nervous.

Up until this point, the only evidence you had that you were pregnant was the four pregnancy tests that you had taken. All firmly confirming that you were pregnant. You had felt foolish that you had failed to notice that you had missed a period but you had been so caught up in this whirlwind relationship with Ant that you had thought nothing of it. Now you were living with those consequences.

"So is this dad?" The nurse asked as she prepped the machine, pulling out the equipment she needed to perform the procedure.

"Just a friend." Joel replied, giving your hand a friendly squeeze.

"The father is back at College for his final year so Joel kindly came with me today." You said, "Baby wasn't exactly planned." You confessed sheepishly, pulling a chuckle from the nurse.

"They hardly ever are these days." She stated and that relaxed you. Glad that there was no judgment of your situation.

"Father to an unplanned baby, sitting right here so I can attest to that." Joel chuckled and you smiled brightly at him.

"Right well, the gel might feel a little cold so sorry in advance." She said sweetly "If you could lift your shirt and pull your trousers down a little."

You did as she bid and let out a shaky breath as you waited for her to start the examination. Holding Joel's hand tightly, you looked only at him and not the screen.

There was silence for some time. The probe slid around your pelvis, digging in at points for her, you assumed, to get a better look at your baby. When Joel's expression grew concerned, you looked over at the nurse and noted that her expression wasn't so jovial anymore.

"Are they okay?" You asked as your heart leapt into your throat.

The nurse gave you a tight smile as she said "I just need to fetch a doctor a moment."

"Why do you need a doctor?" You push and she shakes her head.

"I just want to get a second opinion before we confirm anything.

"What the fucks going on?" Joel growled and you squeezed his hand tighter, rolling your head and locking his eyes with your tearful ones.

"Just a moment." The nurse repeated as she got up from her seat and walked from the room.

It felt like an eternity before she returned with a female doctor in tow.

"I'm Doctor Sims." She said sweetly "Nurse Roberts has asked me to take a look at baby if thats okay?"

You nodded then watched as she took up the nurse's seat and resumed the examination. Hers taking a lot less time than the first. You could see it in her eyes.

It wasn't good news.

"I am so sorry to inform you that there is no heartbeat." The doctor confirmed and your heart shattered "From these scans, it appears that they stopped developing after around 8 or 9 weeks."

Around the time your morning sickness disappeared.

"We call this a silent miscarriage." The doctor continued "It's when the embryo or fetus dies but the body doesn't expel them."

A tight silence fell over the room for a while whilst you processed what the doctor was telling you. Your baby was dead.

The life you were growing that you had just started to get your head around was no longer thriving in your womb. The life you had imagined with Joel and Sarah had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"What happens now?" Joel asked, knowing you wouldn't have the strength to ask.

"We need to give you a pill to expel the embryo." The doctor answered, trying to keep things brief upon seeing how you were silently falling apart on the examination table "To ensure we don't risk infection, we need to do this as soon as possible.

Joel nodded, squeezing your hand and dragging your gaze away from the lifeless shape on the screen.

"Pip?" He said softly and finally, you looked at him, your body numb.

"Do whatever you need to do." You said, your eyes empty of the sparkle that had been there when you first entered this room.

.

Joel pulled a blanket over your sleeping form and placed a soft kiss on your temple. After giving your permission to tell his mum what had happened, the woman offered to stay with Sarah so that he could take care of you. You stirred a little as he perched on the edge of your couch and rubbed your back affectionately.

"Will you tell him?" You asked.

"Tell who?"

"Will you tell Ant for me?" You clarified and Joel nodded in understanding.

"Anything you need." He replied as he leaned down to kiss you again.

He watched as you dosed off again. Placing his hand on your arm and giving it a few affectionate strokes with his thumb before standing and making his way to the kitchen.

Ant's number was stuck above your phone so Joel dialled it and waited for the man to answer, his stomach in knots. He didn't want to do this but he knew he needed to for you. He would tear himself apart if it made you feel even the slightest bit better at this moment in time.

"Hello?" Ant's familiar Texan drawl floated into his ear.

"Ant it's uh... It's Joel." He replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Hi man, what's up?" He asked, saying your name followed by "Is she okay?"

"No... she's uh... No, she's not." Joel confessed as he rested his brow against the wall beside the phone.

"What happened?" Ant's tone was definitely panicked and Joel felt sick at what he had to say next. What he had to tell this man who until this morning, he kinda hated.

"We went to the scan this morning and... Shit I'm so sorry to tell you this man but there was no heartbeat." Joel choked on those last few words.

"What?"

"Doc said the baby stopped developing." Joel explained, his voice now shaking as he told this man about how his baby was gone "They had to give her a pill to expel it so she's bleeding a lot right now."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine." Joel confirmed, hoping to put the man's mind at ease a little "Apparently it's common before 12 weeks." he didn't know if that brought Ant any comfort. It certainly hadn't brought you any.

"So I'm not going to be a dad?" Joel knew it was rhetorical.

"I'm so sorry man." He hoped his sincerity came across, but he was. His heart was breaking for them both.

"So am I." Ant replied, sniffing wetly before saying "Thanks for letting me know man..."

"Of course."

"Take care of her."

"Always."

Ant hung up after that. Placing the phone on its cradle he crept into the lounge and noted that you had fallen asleep again. Your cheeks and nose were raw from crying and your hair a mess as you'd tore at it earlier. All the emotions you'd not had a chance to feel coming down crashing all at once.

He wasn't sure how things were going to be. Whether you would want him or Sarah around after this. His baby would serve as a reminder of what you had lost. He wouldn't blame you if you pushed him away.

But he wasn't going to let you grieve alone.

You were in this together no matter what the outcome. He was going to get you out the other side no matter what the cost.

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question. 

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left. 

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then. 

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting. 

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.” 

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes. 

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.” 

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” 

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.” 

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away. 

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about. 

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” 

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin. 

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name. 

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you. 

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

————

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

@mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking @mysteris-things @amazingori @honey-eyed-munson @saintlike78 @eddieslooneymoonie @alexa4040 @yujyujj

[spookymoosestudio]

Hey Everyone! So now that I officially have the first draft written, I am excited to share with you all that I am creating a childrens book this year called... "Toni, the Punk Rock Opossum!" (don't act so surprised 😆) It will be a short tale of how Toni became a "Punk Rock Opossum", and it will be told in the style of a rhyming song! ♥️ This project is a HUGE deal for me and I am going to be giving it everything I have. I have decided to self publish this one so that I can stay true to my original characters and concept. Over the next several months, you will probably see a lot more of this little dude and his bandmates pop up as I fine-tune the characters, environments and compositions.

If the idea of having a children's book about a Punk Rock Opossum excites you too, there are a few ways you can help in making this dream come true! 

1. Consider buying work from my shop! Really as simple as that. Since this is a business endeavor, any money I make this year will be helping me in paying for the printing and promoting. 

2. Coming later this year, I am planning on releasing some limited edition stickers of Toni and the rest of the "Trash Goblins" as a way to help promote the book and crowd fund.( I will be selling these on my Ko-Fi page and will definitely let you all know when those go up)

3. Like, Share and Talk about it with your buddies! :D As I continue to flesh out these pages and characters, I will be sharing some sneak peeks with you all. I would be thrilled if this can become something others get excited about too! In a world where there are billions of children's books, I'm hoping to create something that hits a special place in your hearts.

Welp! Thats it for now. If you have read. this far, thank you so much for following my page and helping me make my dreams come true ♥️

Also, as I post this little opossum and his friends, I welcome and ENCOURAGE feedback and constructive criticism regarding the styles and changes I toy with.

Anyway, here is my Linktree if interested:

[proosh]

what was that about gil having dreams about the future? (no pressure!)

Oh anon my beloved thank you so much; I dropped that little tidbit into that post hoping someone would ask about it

The truth is that while it is a strongly held headcanon of mine, it’s something of half a historical in-joke, and half a metanarrative indulgence. I’ll cover both of these respectively, in case you want just the historical reasoning and not so much my deranged meta-analysis on nations, narrative, and metanarrative. With this in mind;

Prussia as Cassandra, A Meta

A brief historical overview

The Old Prussians practiced omen-reading and regarded seers with high regard, which was acknowledged as valid by the Teutonic Knights (when the omens predicted victory in battle, at least) and was practised by both men and women

White Ladies are supposedly ghosts of women who haunt the Hohenzollern family as omens of misfortune and especially as messengers of coming death. Notably, Queen Sophia Louise was once afflicted by a bout of madness in 1709 and dressed only in her white nightgown and having cut herself on some broken glass and screamed at King Frederick I (grandfather of Fritz) that "the plague would devour the king of Babylon". In part due to the White Lady folklore, he took this with serious regard and proceeded to prepare Berlin against the upcoming plague (which very much devastated wide swathes of both Prussia and the rest of Northern Europe)

Bismarck very probably never actually said the famous "damned foolish thing in the Balkans" quote that people like to trot out about the inevitability of World War 1 so I hesitate to include it here as historical fact, but for the purposes of elaborating on the "historical in-joke" half of this meta I will gesture to it as a vague suggestion of an ironic future-vision that, as I will discuss shortly, I think makes a certain degree of narrative sense.

Now, moving on to the narrative background and arguably the meat of this meta:

Narrative analysis

Entire books could and have been written about the depiction of history, and the fictionalisation of history for the purposes of narrative storytelling, especially in regards to the personification of abstract concepts like nation-states and their associated concepts. Unfortunately I cannot afford to go to university so you are getting this post instead.

For the purposes of this discussion strict literal academic historicity is not our goal, but rather HWS Prussia as a narrative construct within the sandbox of Hetalia as a story that involves and adapts history but is not necessarily directly representative of it.

Within this frame of analysis, Prussia as a character is a distinctly weird choice for Himaruya to make: To establish him as an ongoing, extant entity in the modern day is definitely A Narrative Choice to make, and honestly not really one I could personally imagine making. Perhaps it's a lingering result of questionable initial research, perhaps there's some meat to chew on in regards to this.

Prussia's design is one that stands out, compared to the rest of the mostly-naturalistic cast. We have the initial design concept for him depicting him as an older, rugged man, and we also have his very early canon design that depicts him with blond hair and blue eyes. However, the decision was made at some point relatively early on to change his design to be distinctly and notably Not Natural: Some debate has been made about to what degree is he actually albino, but the design is still notable for being distinctly 'set apart' from the other nations.

From there, we have to start asking questions about why this decision was made. My personal first thought was perhaps it was inherently tied to his creation as an "unnatural" state in the form of the Teutonic Knights. Voltaire's popular quote about Prussia not being a nation with an army, but rather an army with a nation might come to mind. However, we have been provided with the designs of the other Orders and they don't share his design traits in favour of their own design language, meaning that line of question falls short.

From there, I think it's not unreasonable to suggest that Prussia was designed - in his final, canon form - with his dissolution in mind. It sets him apart visibly from the rest of the established nations, and fundamentally Others him from the rest of the cast - a similar design concept used with Russia, who is within the canon framework of Hetalia, heavily associated with the sinister supernatural as signaled by his unnaturally coloured eyes.

Therefore, on a narrative level, Prussia's appearance foreshadows his own death, and his death was inevitable from the very beginning.

(Turns out the Calvinists were right, huh?)

With all that in mind, I don't find it unreasonable to take that dramatic narrative irony and apply that inherent 'friction' to the rest of Prussia's story: His narrative is haunted by his own death.

By virtue of his creation and his design (and within the framework of the text, his existence) he is doomed to die, and that singular event ripples back through his narrative almost like a psychic shockwave. Everything he Is points towards The End.

When that End comes, it 'releases' a good deal of that narrative tension. Himaruya has said that he designed Prussia to be something of a villainous character and the dissolution provides the suitable narrative endpoint in that regard. However.

The narrative framework of Hetalia continues, as the history it adapts tends to do, which begins to create a new form of narrative tension due to The Decision to have Prussia continue existing into the 'modern' setting. Himaruya has been incredibly cagey about this and besides the ongoing mystery of The HRE Situation the topic of Prussia's ongoing existence is something he's been noticeably coy about in his discussions and implications of East Germany and the following Reunification, but that's an entirely separate essay from what this one is about.

Fundamentally, I think that Prussia - as a narrative construct - is inherently and on a foundational level tied to his own eventual nonexistence, and the dramatic tension of What Comes After. I think he knows, on some primal, unfathomable level, and rages against it right up until it comes for him and he has to learn how to pick up the pieces of himself, his legacy, and his own narrative.

With that intrinsic narrative irony in mind, I don’t think it is too out there to suggest that he possibly (unintentionally, unconsciously) channels the future-sight that keeps cropping up in Prussian history, as noted above. At least in some form, I think he resonates with the coming End in a way that he cannot fully comprehend or articulate and like the Cassandra of myth there is nothing he can do to warn about or avert the doom that he sees and senses.

Troy could not be saved, and neither can he.

But that's just a theory. A game theor—

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This really got away from me and I really do hope that it's at least somewhat comprehensible.

[linasofia]

A Shooting Star

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega

Summary: Lady Vega loves to sneak out to Erebor’s rampart to study the night sky, but one night, an unexpected visitor joins her. It is the beginning of a story whose end only the stars can tell.

Warnings: none

Special thanks to @lathalea & @legolasbadass for all your support and feedback. 💙⭐️

A small gush of wind met Vega, daughter of Vimar, as she climbed the many stairs to the rampart. Since she left her lantern by the wall, her only guidance was the moon. Thankfully, it was a clear night, and the pale light coming from the grand silver coin in the sky was enough to illuminate her path. As she silently entered the rampart, she felt the usual excitement tingling in her body. She knew she was not allowed to be there, but it was the best place for stargazing, if she did not count the mountain slope outside the gate, and it was worth the risk of being discovered. Without making a sound, she hurried to her secret spot, hidden behind a large block of stone—remains from a battle long before she came to live under the Mountain.

Vega rested her back against the rough wall and took out her book from the pocket in her skirt. She was grateful for choosing her warm stockings of finest mountain goat wool; the wind on the rampart was colder than she had expected. Her long winter shawl covered her upper body, and she pulled it tighter. She should have taken the heavy cloak instead, but it was too late to go back now. Besides, she had endured worse weather on the rampart. Vega opened the book carefully, found the most recent of her notes and peered up. Her trained eye easily located the stars of her people’s most important constellation; the magnificent Durin’s Crown. Every year, when a feast was held to celebrate Durin’s Day, the constellation could be seen right above the Mountain. Now, however, when the days were much shorter, it was set far to the west. She smiled. A handful more full moons, and then she would close the circle and be back at the first page in her notebook. She had stood on the rampart many nights and studied the constellations' quiet movements over the sky. It was a fascinating hobby, but not completely without danger. The rampart was high, and the darkness could be compact, at least when the new moon resembled a curved, thin chain of mithril. In addition, there was obviously always the risk of being discovered. Vega preferred not to tell anyone about her own private escapades. Especially not her father. In his eyes, she was still a young girl with little or no understanding of what was considered dangerous. The fact that she followed in her mother’s footsteps and refused to marry any of the lords she was presented to, out of duty, only fueled the old man's conviction that she did not understand what was best for her. Her mother, on the other hand, supported her strong will and constantly defended her daughter’s decision in public.

Vega grew up in the Blue Mountains, and as the daughter of a trusted construction advisor to the king, she lived what many would describe as a relatively comfortable life. Their home was always filled with her father’s construction drawings, books, and strange tools. During her first years, her father would not let her near his precious drawings, but as she grew older, he opened up another world to her, where the symbols, numbers and lines started to make sense. Vega believed it was her father’s work that laid the foundation for her interest in trying to understand things written or drawn by others long before her time. When she found an old map, she instantly tried to visualize the places, and eventually, she started to dream about adventures far beyond her people’s borders.

After King Thorin and his company had reclaimed Erebor, it did not take long before a messenger with the king’s summons reached the Blue Mountains. Vega’s father quickly answered the call and packed his most important belongings. Then, less than a year later, he arranged for his wife and daughter to make the same journey. She still remembered the excitement she felt as a young woman when their caravan set out toward their new home. Vega had heard many old tales about the great treasures of the Lonely Mountain, but also songs of unspeakable grief. She could not wait to see the great halls with her own eyes, and her mother repeatedly assured her it would be worth the long absence of her father. He had an important role to take on as the King of Carven Stone had returned to the Mountain. That was now many years ago, and Vega had grown, both in body and mind, since then.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots reached her ears. She drew nearer to the large stone and hid in its shadow. Her heart was banging in her chest, and her throat tightened, making it hard to breathe, as if she was deep down in the dusty coal mine under the Blue Mountains—a place restricted to the strongest miners among her people. Was this the night she finally was to be discovered? A tall shadow appeared on the stone floor in front of her, but she could not see the dwarf for the massive block of granite. She waited, desperately trying not to make any sound, as the shadow slowly moved closer. Then a broad figure walked right by her and stopped only a few arm’s lengths away. The pale light of the moon fell upon the male, and it made the rich fur on his cloak shimmer. It reminded her of a tale she once heard; about a rare fox who changes color—from almost black to white—when the first snow falls. From behind, the cloak in front of her looked vaguely familiar. In the darkness, all things appear to be grey, but Vega instinctively knew she had seen that cloak before. Admired it, even. The man searched his pockets and pulled out a long, thin item. A small flash of light tore the darkness apart, and when he turned his face to shield his pipe from the wind as he lit it, Vega stared—horrified—at the dwarf’s regal profile. The tobacco glowed as he inhaled loudly, and then a thin cloud of white smoke seeped from his nostrils. The dark, pleased hum that followed made something stir in her lower body, and Vega let out an involuntary gasp. The king instantly turned his head towards the dark corner, and her heart almost stopped. With a hand over her mouth, she held her breath.

“Who’s there? Step out of the shadow!” the king demanded, his voice raised, but not to its full capacity.

Vega took a deep breath and forced her feet to obey. When she stepped out from her hiding place, the moon appeared to be brighter, and she gracefully curtsied as the ruler of Erebor’s piercing stare met hers. The look on his face shifted from annoyance to surprise.

“Good evening, My King.”

“My Lady, I did not expect to meet anyone here. What in Mahal’s name brings you to this dark place?”

Vega hid her book behind her back. “I’m simply looking at the view.” She tried to control the tremble in her voice, but the rush of adrenaline made it impossible.

“The view?” The king looked over the edge of the rampart. He could see lights from the city of Dale, but other than that, the night offered nothing spectacular.

“Surely you must struggle to see anything interesting at all.”

Vega gazed up with a broad smile. “Not that view. This!” She pointed above their heads, where countless stars silently stared back at them.

Silence fell heavily between them. Thorin smoked his pipe while searching his memory for constellations he learned long ago, when he was a much younger dwarf. He could only remember a few of them. Back then, Frerin was much more interested in these stars and always waited patiently for his older brother to locate Durin’s Crown. Thorin’s heart ached at the memory. His brother’s death had removed the joy from so many activities, stargazing was only one of them.

He glanced at the lady standing beside him, her chin lifted and her eyes fixed on the sky. She seemed lost in her thoughts, and the smile still lingered on her lips. Her dark hair was braided in a beautiful pattern—the style popular among the women from the Blue Mountains—and then he spotted a bead with her family's name. He smiled. When he first saw her, he was unsure who she was, but as he looked closer, he could clearly see the resemblance. She was truly her father’s daughter, but beautiful and with a disarming smile.

”Is Lord Vimar aware of your late visit to the rampart?” He could hear her surprised gulp, and she quickly turned her focus on him instead. She had not realized he recognized her, and Thorin met her startled gaze with a calm smile. ”Do not worry, My Lady, your secret is safe with me.”

”Thank you, My King.” She smiled back, a sweet and slightly mischievous smile. ”No, my father would probably lock the door to my chamber if he ever found out what I was doing during the nights.”

”Nights? Are you telling me that I could have had the pleasure of meeting you here on other nights previous to this one?”

Vega wanted to smack herself. Why did her mouth speak too much as soon as the king rested his captivating azure gaze on her?

”I…” she did not know how to continue. How could she explain the thrill and the longing to do something forbidden? What it felt like to slip out in the cover of darkness and just be alone with her dreams and imagination. ”I’m afraid that is the truth,” she then admitted.

”Did you bring a book to read in the dark as well? Your eyes must be much better than mine.” The king sounded almost amused when he spotted the leather-bound piece in her hand, and Vega instantly pressed it against her chest.

”It contains only a few hasty notes I made for myself to read, together with drawings of constellations I have seen. It is nothing of importance.” Vega tried to gain control of her own words; she always spoke too much when she was nervous.

”Would you allow me to see it? I am certain your handwriting is neat and a pleasure to read.”

Her heart hammered again, just as it did when she was hiding, but this time it was not from fear. Was the King of the Longbeards really interested in the stars, or was he only being polite? She searched his face for the truth but found only honesty in his eyes. For a short while, she allowed herself to admire his prominent nose and full beard before she remembered she had no right to gaze upon her king like that.

”My King,” she hesitated, but was tempted to share her findings, if only to make him stay a little longer. Never before had she spoken to someone with such powerful charisma, and he made her very curious. ”It is nothing like the maps in the Royal Library of Erebor,” she then heard herself say. ”But I will be honored to show it to you.” Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the book, but when she tried to offer it to him, he took a step closer.

”Please, My Lady, explain it to me.”

Vega had to take a few deep breaths before she mustered enough calmness to explain her notes. When she spoke, the king listened intently, but every time he pointed at one of her drawings of Durin’s Crown, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at the heavy rings adorning his thick fingers. He had the hands of a warrior—large and calloused—but something in the way he let his fingertips glide over her stained papers told her those hands could do more than just harm.

The notes were indeed created for her eyes only, but after the initial insecurity, Vega found herself growing bolder in the king’s presence. As he leaned a little closer to her, no doubt to see better, a faint hint of pine and leather caught her senses, and it made her head spin, just like the strong tobacco she once was persuaded to try. She promised herself after that single time, to never smoke anything equally strong again. But she wouldn’t mind feeling this type of warm dizziness again. Then Vega shook her head to clear her mind. Who knew the alluring scent of the mightiest of all dwarves alive could evoke such delusional ideas.

”Considering all constellations, which one do you find most mesmerizing?” His question came unexpectedly, spoken in a much lower voice than before. It felt very personal, and Vega shivered. She knew what he probably was expecting from her, but eventually, she decided to answer honestly.

”Of all the constellations and the tales told, I must say I have two favorites, next to Durin’s Crown, of course.” She smiled warmly when a thick black eyebrow rose in surprise. ”The first one is The Hammer.” Vega pointed to the east, where nine stars proudly formed a large hammer.

Thorin nodded, remembering the constellation from Frerin’s rare attempts to actually teach him something useful. He was not sure about the tale; Frerin sometimes changed the story, only so he later could claim that Thorin remembered it wrong.

”And the second?” he asked, gently holding the unusual emerald gaze of the lady beside him. Thorin found her truly fascinating, and the way her voice enchanted him, as she spoke passionately about the stars, made him wish she was a member of his council instead of her elderly father. The endless discussions would be much more bearable if she was.

”The second one cannot be seen now. You will have to wait until spring before you can spot Raven’s Nest in the east.”

”Is it easy to find?”

”If you know what to look for, I supposeit’s easy. It’s one of the smallest constellations I know of, but I love the tale.”

Thorin smiled. He wanted to question her about the tale, just so she would keep talking, but he realized he could not ask her to stay on the rampart all night. The icy wind was growing in strength and the hour was late. He had gone to the rampart for the possibility of clearing his mind after a long evening session with the council. Instead, he had stumbled right onto Lord Vimar’s daughter’s secret stargazing spot. He had completely forgotten his manners and did not introduce himself properly. And what was even worse—he had no name on the lady in question.

”My Lady, even if your father sometimes speaks of his family, I do not think I have ever heard your name. May I ask for it?” His words were soft, and less formal than their initial conversation.

Vega stared at the king. Had he just showed interest in knowing her name? She could not understand why, but she had no intention of denying her king. The unexpected warmth in his eyes made her weak. His raven hair rested against the fur of his cloak but as he turned his head, the wind caught strands of it and blew life into the dark locks. She briefly wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked.

”Vega,” she almost whispered, her voice suddenly failing her as a result of her improper thought.

”Lady Vega, you have been most kind and shared your private notes. I thank you for that. But I’m afraid I need to ask you to return to the warmth of your chamber, before you get too cold.”

”Of course.” She averted her gaze, afraid he would see the disappointment in her eyes. The most exciting moment in a very long time would soon be over, and Vega pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She could do nothing to stretch their chance meeting further.

”I bid you a good night then.” He gave her a short nod.

”Good night,” she echoed as she made a poor attempt to curtsy. Her knees wouldn’t cooperate. Thankfully, King Thorin didn’t seem to notice, or care. All he did was grace her with another warm smile.

”And Lady Vega, do not hide in the shadows next time. I might mistake you for an intruder.”

She mustered one last smile in return. Then she watched him disappear from her—no longer—secret spot on the rampart. His cloak's movement as he rounded the corner was the last thing she saw of him. Vega took a deep breath and the cold air in her lungs made her cough. The king was right; she really should get back home. As she climbed down the stairs and found her lantern at the same place as she left it, she couldn’t stop thinking of his last words to her. Next time. Would there really be a next time?

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

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[asterrrrion]

Alright so part two of my explaining BSD french authors:

Arthur Rimbaud !

This is the boy. Looks young, right ? That's cause he's seventeen in this. (Funnily enough, he's exactly the same age as Verlaine's wife. Verlaine, though, is 27 at the time they meet. Yeah, I wasn't kidding when I said he was a piece of shit.)

Rimbaud is kind of THE poet of teenage rebellion. He was born in 1854, under Napoleon III to place him back in his historical context. He wrote quite a bit in opposition to Napoleon, actually.

His father is absent at first, and then not here at all later. He has... A complex and complicated relationship with his mother. He gave her a disrespectful nickname, she was seen hitting him several times (although at the time that's hardly surprising...), but at the same time when he asked her to go see him in London (at a time where the trip was very expensive, and she'd never left France in her life before that) she came, and his sister described him then as "the happiest I'd ever seen him". She's often seen as the source of his inner anger and rebellion.

What he hates for sure, though, was living in his house, with his family, and especially in his hometown, Charleville, which he despises.

He's especially known for having fled his house a lot, as in several times a year, for several days every time, walking during the day and sleeping on the road during the night. His most famous poem, "Ma bohème" (unstranslatable title because "bohème" is a french concept, but it basically means living your life day after day, in communion with nature and/or your dreams, often with an artistic dimension and no money whatsoever - also has travel connotations because it derives from "bohemian"), actually talks solely about that.

He wrote from his fifteenth to his nineteenth birthday, and was - still is - seen as a genius, being one of the most influential french poets ever despite having written for only four years. He was famous for being uncontrollable, and it translates back to his style : he took extremely traditional forms and changed their rules. (Which weirdly enough actually kinda fits with Rimbaud's ability ??)

If we ever have a Baudelaire in BSD, know that his character will probably look up to him, seeing as Rimbaud is usually seen as continuing Baudelaire's legacy of completely revolutionising french poetry. His two most famous books are "A Season in Hell" and "Illuminations", his last one. His literary movement is symbolism, invented by Baudelaire, characterized by melancholy and an attraction to the ethereal and mysterious. Rimbaud himself thinks that "the poet must search and describe the unknown" and, well, too bad if he sacrifices his sanity. He's also one of the first after Baudelaire to write prose poems.

He stopped writing, forever, at twenty, after the Verlaine fiasco. Actually, he wrote "Illuminations" directly after, then gave it to Verlaine so that he could get it published instead of doing it himself.

That's where his life gets really weird. He tries to learn seven different skills and languages while traveling everywhere, fails, his sister dies and he shaves his head for her funeral, is forced into the military to fight in Java, then deserts, gets hired on a boat on his way back and becomes a sailor, then tries to get hired in the American Navy, doesn't get any answer, goes in a circus then a factory, and all of that while traveling everywhere in the world in the space of about three years.

Nobody knows where he was for the nine months after that - and during all of this, everyone who knows him is hoping that he gets back to writing poetry - and then he goes home to help his brother with his farm before leaving, AGAIN. He walks from France to Italy, then gets in a boat to Alexandria, where he works in a construction project to manage the workers. This keeps going for about eleven more years, so I can't list everything this guy did : we'd need a whole ass novel.

He stays in Northern Africa for almost the rest of his life, although he travels quite a lot in that region and never stops moving. In France, he's still as famous as he was at 17, and several eulogies are written for him without his knowledge. We can also note that he does weapon trafficking, for a very short period, at some point. He writes to his family that he's "bored", of all things. He's described by the people he meets then as "smart, sarcastic, not very talkative, never talking about his past".

He then dies in Marseille, in his thirties, from cancer in his leg.

I'm gonna be honest : I don't like his BSD characterization. Rimbaud's a wild card, a chaotic teenager, as an author. I also ! Hate ! That he's Verlaine's mentor. But that'll be the next part, where I'll talk of IRL Rimbaud and Verlaine.

Previous and future parts are in the #IrlBSDFr tag.

[bestworstcase]

Hm...What do you think is the possibility that the Ever After's denizens are the remnants of the First Humanity's souls, turned into their current state out of an attempt to erase their past identity (tying into what seems to be the Ever After's theme of removing identity in the face of past traumas and such)?

After all, we've seen through Penny that souls can survive on their own without a body in certain circumstances, so maybe when the GoD nuked everyone, he turned their bodies to ash but their souls got dumped into the void.

it’s wonderland.

not in the sense of it being exactly the world carroll invented but rather: it’s a story. wonderland is a story. in a fancy they pursue/the dream-child moving through a land/of wonders wild and new/in friendly chat with bird or beast/and half believe it’s true/and ever, as the story drained/the wells of fancy dry/and faintly strove that weary one/to put the subject by/“the rest next time—“ “it is next time!”/the happy voices cry/thus grew the tale of wonderland/thus slowly, one by one/its quaint events were hammered out/and now the tale is done.

or,

“When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,” she added in a sorrowful tone: “at least there’s no room to grow up any more here.”

you might say it’s steeped in an awareness of the nature of fairy tales and its own status as one of them, or something. to borrow ozpin’s turn of phrase. and of course the kids—blake in particular—identify the ever after as a familiar fairytale: they want to get to the tree because they think it will get them home, and they think that because alyx, the girl who fell through the world, finds her way back home at the base of the tree.

i don’t think this place is an afterlife in any configuration; i think its metaphysical substrate is NARRATIVE, and it isn’t interested in removal of identity so much as it engages literally with the concept of narrative role. its denizens are constructs of mechanical purpose and they ask what, not who: what are you, what is the point of you, what are you for?

ruby rose is the hero. her name is the title of the first episode and ozma, as the narrator, introduces her as the “smaller, more honest soul” who carries the light through the darkness—and at the end of volume three salem flips this on its head by noting (correctly) that turning to his “smaller soul” to save the world means asking her to die for the sake of everyone else. taking the trailers into consideration with everything set up in the last eight volumes, what i anticipate is that this will be the locus of ruby’s identity arc: not a struggle against a world seeking to erase who she is per se, but grappling with what it means to be Ruby Rose, the Smaller, More Honest Soul. and she’ll have to interrogate that because the ever after is a story—specifically a fairytale, with the archetypal rigidity and simple narrative expectations that implies.

[fenmere]

Take science fiction in one hand and epic fantasy in another, and mush them together really hard until you can't tell them apart anymore, then plop it in the queer blender.

Let's say you took a small planetoid the size of Ceres and spun it like a glass bottle, using construction nanites to shape the finer details. You could get a cylinder that's approxiamtely 400 km long by 200 km wide, with walls 3 km thick. Maybe.

Rotate that for simulation of gravity. Use the mass of another Ceres to build the Bussard collector and fusion drive, and you can make it go.

Now, fill it full of queer autistic intersex agender chimerical furries and fine tune everything so that none of them have to work for a living, and it seems like the neurodivergent queer utopia that you and your friends all sit around a cafe table daydreaming about, and then shake it up.

Add three conlangs and a map. Actually, make a 3D model of the interior of the ship, with mountains, rivers, lakes, forests, plains, an ice ring, and a sea...

And then write 11 novels about it (and counting), spanning from thousands of millions of years ago to today, complete with first contact with Earth through a psychic projection into the psyche of a transgeder plural system.

That's kind of what we're doing. Our latest book is released tomorrow, and covers the culture shock of the visiting Ktletaccete upon experiencing life in Portland, Oregon. And doing what they can to help improve the lives of their hosts.

But, while the Ktletaccete (our alien people) might be more advanced technologically than humans, and currently cultivate a culture that many of us would admire and dream of being a part of, they have a long, ancient, dark history. And they've also made some big errors fairly recently, too.

The Sunspot (or 'etekeyerrinwuf) is just one of a long line of Exodus Ships, and was forged in the compression wave of a nova. The origins of the Ktletaccete and what they used to look like has been long forgotten. Lost to countless generations of various different flavors of fascism and revolution. And the founding Crew of the Sunspot had tried to create a world without gender, with extreme diversity, a break from the goals of eugenics, and the protection of consent and autonomy. But in the process, they created a whole new gender, the AI Tutor, and failed to let go of the tools of eugenics, the evolutionary engines. And the whole series starts with the first attempts to uncover, recognize, and rectify those errors. The lessons already learned by the Crew at this point are that neurodiversity, disability, and physical dysphoria are among the things that cannot be bred or socialized out of the populace. The next thing they need to learn is that there shouldn't be any Crew.

But how do you own your mistakes and change all of that, and fight those that disagree with that change, without destroying the generational starship itself?

Anyway, all these stories are written from the perspective of being a plurality. We're a massive system with well managed DID, and are writing from our own experiences as an autistic, intersex, trigender trans feminine enby.

They're stories we want to tell ourselves and our children, to continue our internal culture, to make sense of the outer world and our inherent disconnect from it, and to be seen and remembered by the rest of the universe.

The Sunspot itself is an allegory for a system like ourselves. It doesn't follow the rules of an outworld country or planet. And the revolutionaries of the Sunspot have to work with their own reality in which the Elders cannot be killed and will not die without their own consent, imprisonment only breeds stronger resentment (dissociation is bad), and the vessel in which they all live is fragile and mortal.

So, the question for them is, "What other forms of justice, reparation, and safety protocols will actually work?"

And we don't have the answers, and we're still trying to figure it out, so the books keep coming.

Found family, friendship, asexual partnership, and the meaning of self and consciousness are all explored deeply and with a hopeful passion for living with others and experiencing the wonders of life.

Our websites:

And then, for a bonus! Our supervillains writing prompt story arc:

Crime-Cat and the Deliverator!

And if you want short descriptions of most of our books, you can find them in our pinned post.

writers, listen up...

i've fallen out of touch with the writeblr community a lot in the past few years, and i want to rectify that. the community aspect was what made me fall in love with tumblr, and what improved my writing for the better.

the golden days of my writing were when i was highly active and engaged in this wonderful community, but life and work and the horrors of self publishing have overtaken my energy in the past year. however, i have been really struggling with original writing, and i want to get back into the community here.

that said...

you write fantasy with queer characters

are an indie author

post frequently about your wips (taglists are a bonus!)

are queer

are a very active and friendly writer

if any of these apply

please, please reblog and tell me about your wip. gush over it. infodump. characters and ships and worldbuilding and plot, i want it all! this is your invitation to be as selfishly indulgent as possible. let's make some new friends and restore some community!!

boosts appreciated!

[hopeless-awkard-desperate-4love]

The voices of the night/the fears of the day

Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki

Ok so this is the first fic I've ever written. It is probably not the best, I'm sure there are plenty of grammatical errors and my vocabulary is poor but English is not my native language so please be gentle. I'd be supper grateful if anyone would like to send me corrections or anything, constructive criticism is very much welcome (just don't be too harsh with it please)

I'm sorry in advance for the mistakes or the poor portrayal of the characters, I tried my best!

There's gonna be a part 2 too but I'm not sure about it yet!

The fics about Reki having nightmares and he's amazing boyfriend Langa being there for him! (Totally not me projecting onto Reki, definitely not)

Enjoy!!

The first time it happened Reki was alone.

He slept late that night although he wished he had slept earlier. He had an exhausting day. He just wanted to chill at his bed and read the comic he had started -really enjoyed it-. After reading a few pages he decided to take a break and lay on his bed but 'don't sleep you useless idiot, you want and should read more'.

That was one of his last thoughts before drifting off among ones like: 'you should remember to take your geometry books tomorrow you haven't packed them in your bag again, fucking idiot' or 'you didn't study hard enough and in case someone asks you something you might not know it stupid, stupid, stupid' or 'you ate again tonight, you should watch your diet more, chubby thighs'. Nothing unusual or extraordinary or concerning really.

Once he slipped into unconsciousness his dreams started taking place.

'Useless'

'Idiot'

"I know..."

'You stupid attention seeker'

'You can't even study for school'

'Your skating skills suck, you should get better'~

'You don't know what you wanna do in your life'

'Useless'

"I know"

'You can't do anything'

'You're not good enough"

'Not good enough'

'Not enough'

'Not'~

"I said I know"

No it couldn't be...how could it possibly happen? Or that's what it was really?

I-it's overwhelming-

Please-

Please make it stop

His alarm clock started ringing.

7:00AM

Fuck, he has to go to school. That's probably the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. The first was to cry his eyes out about his dream.

He had both a mental breakdown and an existential crisis in his fucking dreams. All the voices that are daily in his head and keep pointing out every single thing he's doing wrong were there. And they were a thousand times louder than reality.

Was it a sign? Were his dreams trying to tell him something? Confirm that he's useless?

He can't think about that...

He has to go to school.

He packs the geometry mechanically in his bag remembering the previous night's thoughts, grabs his skateboard and leaves the house, his mind blurry and not quite there but still trying his best to keep up with his surroundings.

Langa seems to notice that something's not right but when he asks, Reki shoves him off saying he's fine.

He doesn't want to worry Langa, he can't do that. Langa has problems too he shouldn't have to deal with Reki's dreams

'...attention seeker'

The rest of the day passes rather uneventfully spending the night at "S", mind busy with skateboards instead of his disturbing dreams.

-

Since that day the nightmares come back every few nights. The voices would be there every time ready to remind him everything he's done wrong and how much of a waste of space he is.

A night with a nightmare meant a day out of focus. His brain found it extremely hard to pay attention to anything else, while he hasn't properly processed what happened the previous night, especially on school days on which he has to mask his feelings quickly enough in order to keep his nightmares and bad mood to himself.

Langa although seemed to catch that something was of. Not every single time but, the majority of them, he would check up on Reki more frequently, not knowing what was going on. Even if Reki really appreciated it, he wasn't very sure if he wanted to talk about it with Langa.

-

Things got harder to hide when he and Langa started doing sleepovers.

Every morning he woke up after a nightmare with Langa by his side he would try to calm himself down, not wanting to wake the blue-haired boy sleeping peacefully next to him. After a few nights he figured that Langa was not much of a heavy sleeper, yawning lightly whenever he felt movement around him.

-

Reki barely slept the previous night.

And there he was now next to Langa lying wide awake watching him slowly drift off.

"Reki..." the blue-haired whispered half asleep.

"Mhm" he answered

"Get some sleep. You're tired."

"Don't worry I will." He said brushing Langa's cheek who was really close to sleeping. He leaned in the touch.

"Mmm"

The affection between the two young boys was undeniable.

Reki decided to listen to Langa for once. Maybe he was right. Maybe he wouldn't have a nightmare. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe...

He welcomed sleep hoping that sleep will welcome him too.

-

'Look at you Reki'

'You can't even sleep'

'You're afraid of it'

"No..."

'How pathetic'

'Useless'

'Attention seeker'

'Poor Langa'

"...stop..."

'He must be so patient to keep up with you'

'You can't even skate with him'

'You're not even close to his skills'

'Not even close'

"please..."

'I bet he hates every minute he spends with you'

'You're nothing compared to him'

"I know..."

'You're not enough Reki'

'And you'll never be'

"I know"

'Never'

'Not enough'

His breath started being rapid and harsh.

'how are you even alive?'

'You will just disappoint everyone'

'You are a burden'

'Langa should leave you'

"But-but I don't want him to leave!"

He started sobbing, curling into himself grabbing his head violently

'How selfish'

'You really are pathetic'

'Langa will be better without you'

'Not holding him back'

'You burden every single person around you'

"I..."

'It would be better without you'

"I'm sorry..."

He tried to reach for air crying and gasping and-

Oh.

He was awake.

He jolted on the bed nearly knocking himself to the floor. The air was abandoning his lungs and tears started forming in his eyes. Luckily, Langa didn't seem to be aware of his sudden waking and Reki was glad about that.

Trying to calm himself down he put his hand over his chest trying to feel his heart which had started beating rapidly.

His eyes fell on the boy next to him. The sight of the blue-haired made his heart shatter. Tears started slipping from his eyes, adoring his cheeks and a few silent, almost inaudible cries escaped his throat. He layed back on the bed and turned away not standing to look at Langa.

As he was crying silently on his side with his hand over his mouth in order to mute his sobs he felt a pair of arms grabbing his waist.

No it couldn't be...

"Langa...?" he whispered hesitantly.

"Hey," his voice was so soft, caressing Reki's ears. Reki tried to gather himself as much as possible.

"Uh, um I'm s-sorry I-I didn't mean to w-wake you." he apologized weakly, feeling guilt for disturbing his friend's sleep.

"Shh, don't apologize, it's okay" he said adjusting his grip now that Reki had turned over and was facing him.

Reki avoided looking at Langa, knowing it would make him cry worse.

"Hey, it's okay you can cry, let it out" he said reading his mind (more like seeing the shiny tears on his face).

Reki couldn't resist.

He buried his face in Langa's chest soaking his shirt in tears. Langa rested his chin on Reki's head and he softly rubbed the redhead's back in an attempt to give him some comfort.

Reki felt so small, crying in Langa's arms. If the voices in his head were there, they would probably remind him how pathetic he looked.

But they weren't.

When he was around Langa the voices were... they were quiet...or they weren't loud enough for him to hear.

Langa's arms provided a feeling of safety he craved for a long time.

"There you go. It's okay... let it out... let it all out" Langa's voice sounded comforting too. The safety everything about Langa radiated made him sob harder.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here. It's okay" his grip tightened. Reki felt like he hadn't cried in forever, although lately he'd been doing it a lot more. It felt strangely relieving. Normally he wouldn't cry in front of everyone. Everyone but Langa.

After several long minutes of crying his eyes out Reki seemed to finally calm down a bit. He pulled his head just slightly from Langa's chest trying to make breathing a little easier.

"You have to breathe okay? In and out, like that..." Langa took some exaggerated breaths hoping Reki will mimic him.

Shaky breaths escaped his lips which soon evolved into steady and somehow normal breathing. Everything to make it easier on Langa.

"That's it you're doing great!" Langa visibly relaxed when he realised that Reki was finally breathing normally. A few moments passed in comforting silence just holding each other both of them feeling safe. "I'm sorry..." Reki said so, so quietly that Langa almost didn't hear him. "Don't...um...what are you sorry for?" Even though he interrupted himself he still had such a soft and caring voice.

"For-for being like that"

"Reki there's no need to apologize. You're not 'like that'. You should show your emotions. And I know there's something going on, so please talk to me okay? You shouldn't torture yourself like that..."

Hope you enjoyed it🩷🩷🩷

Part two will be coming soon I promise!!

[alluringjae]

sinfully vowed to you - jjh

open your legs, not your bible | sinfully vowed to you

SUMMARY. how far will you go for love? perhaps to the point you’re bound for marriage, but the groom you seek isn’t the one your heart beats for. and desperately, you must gamble everything without regrets.

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader

WORD COUNT. 13.2k

GENRE. loads of angst, fluff, and slice of life at the end | rich bad boy!jaehyun, rich good girl!reader, implied enemies to lovers!au, forbidden romance!au

PLAYLIST. don’t blame me (sped up and reverb) by taylor swift [the main reason of how this story came to be]

WARNINGS. arranged married to a surprise neo, mentions and appearances of more neos, references to and slight bad-mouthing Christianity, one heated argument where 2 of the 10 commandments are recited, mentions and portrayal of manipulative parents, explicit language, petnames, “stop the wedding” shenanigans, mentions of Satan, mentions and potrayals of physical and verbal assault, eloping, allusions to virginity loss and sex, mention of praise kink, tension between rival families, pregnancy ((let me know I missed anything else))

⤑ vero’s words: reposting bc tvmblr being a bit rood for not showing up on the tags 💀 also did some minor edits and added extra parts i forgot from my final draft huhuhu but omg yeah thank you for all the love for the first part!!! i didn’t expect it to blow up my phone notifs soooo i hope this second part (unsure if it’s the last one who knows right) makes up the sudden cliffhanger HAHAHAHA happy reading!!! 💗

⤑ disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. i don’t own the people/characters written, but the plot is mine. translations or copying my work is not allowed.

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback or hellos!

SIX HOURS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

They say a wedding is every little girl’s dream. Whether it was the white gown or having a gorgeous partner at the end of the aisle whom they truly love, it’s like magic unfolding by the eyes of their esteemed guests.

The power of love ever so beautiful, and how everyone anticipates for it to grown each passing. And for the couple, to be eternally bound and in love until their final breath.

You were one of those little girls caught up in the fantasy, until it was tainted by the bitter reality of your pre-constructed future.

Hushed chatter are exchanged between your assigned makeup artist and hair stylist. They express pride in being booked by such an influential family for such a lavish wedding, doing their best to live up to the high expectations. But they’ll never understand how the smiles you give when they loop you into their small talk, it’s an act. Deep down, you dread their fruits of their labor working out.

Yet you wish to stop yourself from changing into this magnificent white gown cascading every curve of your figure. The upper half is of a tube design, folded twice and sewn. As for the bottom, the fabric are crafted into ruffles that flair until the bottom. A veil is clasp on top of your bun, awaiting until the big event to place over your head. Oh, there are gloves to match.

“Keep yourself entirely covered and pure after your wedding vows.” Your mother once insights as you nod along during your first dress fitting back then. Quite ironic to hear that now, huh?

Eventually (and much to your convenience), the overall styling is done. You bid genuine gratitude to the staff before they exit your hotel room while you remain alone to rest up. It was going to be a long day of superficial joy before facing lifelong period of unhappiness and duty.

As much as you want to enjoy your beautiful reflection right by the full-length mirror, your heart cannot simply move past the tragedy and pain strongly throbbing inside you.

What was the point to be dolled up like this if the groom you seek is not the chosen one?

And what more for a wedding being the happiest day of every little girl’s life if your arranged groom already has a special someone vacating their heart?

The outside world can only rejoice for such a joyous occasion, but the two of you can only mourn for the freedoms that have been permanently washed away.

Quite frankly enough, you still remember that very day you met your fiancé. You can only grieve for what has already been done without your willing knowledge and consent…

And for what else is to come after it.

TEN MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

It’s merely two days after your father’s sudden announcement of marriage, and your groom-to-be reached out to you through your mother. He didn’t have your number, so he contacted her first then you.

Meanwhile, your poor heart remains to sob and cry out every ounce of pain. Yet it never decreased, especially when you still had to tell Jaehyun. But you still didn’t have the bravery, dodging his calls and texts on your burner phone.

For the meantime, you needed to face your groom-to-be in hopes for at least a civil relationship.

The cafe near your office was a good 5 minute walk for him, and out there he already laid out his honest intentions and thoughts.

“I understand what we must do for our families’ empires.” He starts off in a downcast manner. “But do know that affection-wise, I can never reciprocate it with you.”

You curved a mini grin. “What’s she like then?”

“Wait, are you not offended?” He’s taken aback. Nothing has occurred but rejecting any future romantic endeavors to the kindest and most angelic woman in the city. He’s aware of the asshole move, but your reaction is very unlike you.

You laugh, breaking a bit of the tension. “Should I be?”

“We’re set to be married, to fall in love over time. So it’s unfair for you if I can’t give you just that. And my, you deserved to be loved in full.”

You heart wrenches. “But you deserve that just as much as I do because--“

“Because?”

“My heart belongs to another as well.”

Silence floods the both of you. Eye contact is evident, not ignored. Your irises drain of energy, of hope. And yet, there’s a nudge of comfort in sharing burdens together.

The burden of your liberty fading day by dad and impenetrable heartbreak.

And even if Jaehyun doesn’t know it yet, you’re already grieving.

“If not a loving relationship,” He cuts the tension. “May we at least remain amicable? I understand that our fates are shitty, but I cannot find any reasons to hate you.”

“I-I’d like that.” You stutter, glad that one good thing came out of a rather pleasant conversation. “I look forward to putting on a façade for the world with you.”

And as if by magic, your future dons a gummy smile. “Likewise, (Y/N). It’ll be a lot less hellish with you by my side.”

The two of you shake hands to it.

“I truly apologize for my family’s greed, (Y/N).” He says with guilt.

“I apologize for the same thing as well, Doyoung.”

THREE HOURS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Speaking of the man, your phone pings with a notification. The two of you communicate constantly like close friends, a surprising pro to everything.

DY KIM: My mother is looking for you

DY KIM: She wants a photo of her future mother-in-law

(Y/N) Lee: Ew gross

(Y/N) Lee: How fake can she get this time in liking me

DY KIM: As fake as her beloved nose job

(Y/N) Lee: Jesus Doyoung

DY KIM: HAHAHAHA I’d say hurry once you’re done having some last minute alone time

DY KIM: I really don’t want to be around your parents, especially your over-the-top, conservative mother

(Y/N) Lee: Is she telling you not to meet me rn bc it’s gonna bring us misfortune

(Y/N) Lee: If she is, don’t even bother

(Y/N) Lee: Althoughhhh I do stand by that if you don’t mind

DY KIM: Oh, I see. I’m sorry about that, I didn’t know

(Y/N) Lee: No worries, we have our whole lives to figure more things about each other

DY KIM: such a scary idea

(Y/N) Lee: not as scary as both your parents asking me about our future children

DY KIM: I AM STILL SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

(Y/N) Lee: It’s alright, Doyoung

(Y/N) Lee: That is one of my main duties as your future wife

DY KIM: But I don’t wanna think of that yet

DY KIM: Let’s focus on getting through this show

DY KIM: So I’ll see you in the altar?

(Y/N) Lee: Definitely, see you then.

It’s strange how you and Doyoung managed to create a friendship in the midst of your emotional distresses. Maybe in this lifetime, you’re only destined a marriage out of duty. But out of love? There’s no room for that.

Though perhaps now, you may have given yourself an exception. You share a loving look in the mirror because regardless of the occasion, you’re dressed to the nines. You shall not waste it.

You’re only going to get married once after all, right?

“Miss Lee.” Someone knocks on the bedroom door of your suite. It was one of the wedding planners, whose arms carry a captivating bouquet of white roses.

Your favorite.

“These are lovely!” Your legs carefully rush towards her, hoping not to break your heels. “Are these the flowers I’ll be walking the down aisle with?”

“Yes!” She replies. “In fact, this was a last-minute decision because the original red roses sent by the Kims are a bit too striking to the eye. You should be the main star after all.”

You nod. “If that’s the case, may I know who I sent them?”

“Funny you ask, Ms. Lee.” The planner takes a few steps back, only to return with an enclosed white envelope. “This gift came from an anonymous person, and one of my team members was informed that only you can read the letter it comes.”

Your brows scrunch in suspicion and confusion as you accept the envelope. But before you can question it, the planner interrupts your thoughts. “The car you’ll be riding in to go to the church is arriving soon, so we must head out in a bit.”

“Yes, I got that.” You affirm, trying not to get too caught up on this extra frenzy. Curiosity is a great trait of yours, but it can be problematically uncontrollable at time. “May I just spend a few more minutes to read this letter and touch up on my perfume? This can be from all my brothers.”

“Of course.” With that, the planner bows with respect as she leaves the room and closes the door behind her. Without anymore time to waste, your fingers rip out the envelope whilst enjoying the fresh aroma of the flowers. Straight out of the shop for sure, could all your brothers possibly have the time to buy it?

Taeyong is too occupied with his wife and only son to consider such a request.

Ten, your half-brother, just flew in this morning from Thailand. Staying any longer than today can cause major havoc, especially with your mother.

Mark sucks at being romantic. No wonder he can’t keep any of his ex-girlfriends.

Jeno, well. It’s not his thing. Not with his playboy personality lately.

Haechan is still hungover from partying with his friends just last night according to your sibling group chat.

Yet even with this, you’d still like to give all of them the benefit of the doubt. As the only girl in the Lee family, they respect and love you in their own ways. And it’s your wedding day, for God’s sake. They’re aware of how unhappy you are despite denying such, so sending flowers are their way of cheering you up.

Oh, how wrong you are.

Innocently, you unfolded the letter and bit by bit, your mouth lets out a gasp. The handwriting is all too familiar from the first few words on top, alongside the fresh perfume that was sprayed on it.

It came from the last person you can ever expect. The last person you could think or dream about.

Yet the only person your heart desperately longs for.

You’re gutted, yet you needed to contain yourself.

But fuck, flashbacks of the last time you saw each other replay in your head. And none of them were good memories.

FIVE MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Time is crucial in everything you do.

And you knew you fucked up when you kept delaying on telling Jaehyun your wedding when he saw it on today’s major headline in the news.

Here you two were, in your apartment where he manages to sneak in perfectly as always.

But confusion and anger were his driving emotions, and you couldn’t blame him the slightest.

What a coward you are.

“When will you ever stand up for yourself, (Y/N)? When will you call out those people who keep trampling over you?” Those were the first words he expressed, pacing your living room back and forth.

“But these are my parents, Jaehyun!” You tried to stay strong and neutral. You had no choice. “God, I hate them but I can’t lose them. If I do, I lose everyone else.”

“Are you really afraid of losing them or losing the privileges you’ve gained over the years from them?”

“Excuse me?”

“Admit that you are.” He marched forward where you stood. By the window, you’re looking down at the impending traffic. At the cars desperately eager to get home, was this how God saw everyone? Does He watch the suffering of His children in hopes they learn a lesson, or to put them through absolute misery?”

Because nothing else can destroy your heart but Jaehyun’s pain directly speaking at you.

“They’ll remove you from their wills and inheritance, try to blacklist you everywhere, badmouth you to other, rip the whole city apart even to find wherever you are if you run away.” He listed on and on.  “How do I know? Because I’m afraid too.”

“Fearing of starting anew, fearing that no one will support you, fearing of what’s to come when you disobey mommy and daddy because you’ve broken Commandment #4.”

“Honor your mother and father.” You responded naturally. How can you not when it’s a major rule you followed all your life?

“But you and I both know that they’re neither deserving of such because they are a lot worthy in the deeper realms of hell.” He spat without care.

“Don’t say that!” You protest.

“But you know I’m right!” And you knew was, but your pride was too high for that. Call it your only sin, one of the seven deadly ones. Truly ironic on your end.

“But it’s not that easy to stray away from my family! Unlike you whose parents give you so much freedom to explore, I am always on a leash.” You try to defend yourself, close to being on the verge of tears. Everything you’ve built with Jaehyun is starting to fall apart. The only person who’s made you feel sane and at ease. But you’re cornered with no choice. “So if I choose to be impulsive, I’ll be trapped. Locked in my bedroom like Rapunzel.”

You distance your glare towards another view, not wanting Jaehyun to see your now falling tears. “And if I run away and fail, my fate can be similar to Taeyong and Ten.”

Memories of Taeyong and Ten being beaten up to a pulp by your father and his henchmen when they tried to expose the corruption of your family to a media news outlet replays your mind. You were still in university, and didn’t mean to see that happening if not for your dying thirst. There was a water dispenser outside your bedroom, and wretched sounds from downstairs piqued your curiosity. Alas, whines from your older brothers as he was punched ruthlessly and bloodily in the living room. Your mother can only cry on the side, merely being a bystander to the abuse because she can’t stop your father.

“But has it crossed your mind that maybe, your brothers not want you to go through what they went through?” Jaehyun tries to compromise. Anything to keep you in his life. “That they too want you to make the big change in the family?”

“Even if they did, I just can’t risk it. Especially as the only woman among my siblings, marriage out of duty is my right.”

“What about us? Our freedom?”

“Freedom for a love like ours…” You trail. “… can only leave us 6 feet under.”

“But aren’t we worth a fight?” He begs. “I know what we signed up for our love likes ours, but shouldn’t we give it a shot? Give us a shot.”

“Jaehyun--“

“Do you not love me enough? Or is it me that loves you more than you?”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Everything that’s happening right now is bullshit because rather than doing what’s right, isn’t pushing through with the wrong?” His temper nearly tramples your room down. Getting a noise complaint right now is the last thing you needed. “Isn’t that contradictory as the good religious girl you are?”

“So you think that I am the bad one here?” You almost scream in stress. “God, I should’ve never given you a chance.”

“Say that again, angel.” Jaehyun’s voice lowered.

Oh shit, you fucked up with your mindless words.

Your lover straightens his back, showcasing his full height. How he hovers you, making you walk back again while he follows. That’s until you hit the wall loud and clear. “I don’t think I can’t hear you clearly.”

“You Jeongs are trouble and always will be. How dumb of me to have been so merciful to sinners like you.”

“That’s not what you said when you kissed me back a lifetime ago.” He plays around your charade. He knows you don’t mean it.

“What makes you think God will take you back?” You challenge.

“If I had to attend mass every day and bathe myself in holy water to clear myself of every remnant of you, so be it.” His hands rake over your body, one landing on your waist and the other planted on the wall near your face. Lowering his stance, your body get goosebumps from the words that he whispers in your ear. “Commandment #9: Thou shall not bear false witness against me.”

You bit your lips, which he makes him smirk. To add, “We all know you’re uttering a lie, baby.”

As his ego inflates, that’s only when your senses return to their normal state. “Get off me.”

“But you’re my religion, baby.”

“Commandment #1: Thou shall have no other Gods before Me.” You retaliated. “Convert back to your old self, Jaehyun. The one before you rejoined Bible study.”

“Baby.”

“It’s blasphemous to describe me as a religion when I am no god. So If you really love me, you’d understand my sense of duty and let me go.” Don’t. Please. You’re at a point of confusion, but you cannot let whatever feelings you have for Jaehyun jeopardize your life. Perhaps these feelings shall pass too.

Right?

“(Y/N).”

“Please don’t make it any harder for us, Jaehyun.” You weakly pushed him away. “So please go.”

Jaehyun’s been the type to rile you up, to take risks. But he knows when enough is enough. As your orbs have been drained of its light, and your back slouched in fatigue, it’s a pain to see you this way.

But the pain that piles in his chest was more superior, and he starts to lash out. Like he’s back in square one with you.

“I loathe your family. You robbed my family all those years ago, so I thought I’d never like you no matter how kind-hearted you are in and outside the church. But I was so fucking wrong.” He starts to cry, which he rarely does. And it’s from the last person he ever expected it to be from. His only lover, the only person who understood him, was leaving him.

“You’re the only one who understood me when everyone turned their backs at me for my sharp tongue. Sure, we argued a lot but you put me in my place. In my cold world, you embraced me with warmth. You taught me how to soften up and make amends with Sungchan, and showed me what real love is unlike the harshness of my parents.” Your back was turned when he kept talking this point on, refusing to confront him more. It’s too much you can mentally and emotionally handle.

“But that doesn’t really matter anymore.” He sighs, giving up. “I fell for your tricks, and now, you robbed my whole heart. How it beats for you, and only you. Truly, robbing runs in your blood and it shall stay that way forever.”

“Jaehyun, wait--” From your cold stance, only now were you awakened by the consequences of your actions. But it was too late. Jaehyun was by your front door, opening it to exit your home.

And your life forever.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).”

TWO HOURS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Will you ever be ready to read this note when your parting all those months ago was bitter?

Yet it does cross your mind how he’s been, how can you not be?

If this was your last connection to him, you must savor it. All the sweetness and bitterness blazed in it.

Dearest my angel,

Weddings allow you to witness the passion and love between a couple right before your eyes. There’s truly nothing more breathtaking than that.

I am so sorry for the way I acted that night and each word I spat at you. I pressured you into something that you weren’t comfortable with out of my greed, inconsiderate of how much stress you already were under beforehand. Rather than putting you on the spot and lashing out my growing heartbreak, I should’ve been by your side. To be your shoulder to cry on, especially when we know what kind of love if we’re in.

But forgive me and my poor heart: it still cannot accept that you’re betrothed to another. I cannot invalidate my emotions that day either, but regardless. I am sorry for my actions that night.

They say our kind of love is forbidden, disrespectful to our ancestors who loathed each other. But can we really blame our souls to find connection in the mutual pains of our manipulative families? Should we choose to hate our neighbors because they told us to do so, to continue the generational tradition? Damn, we should never be religious if our sense of humanity is fucked.

By this time, you’re already dressed in a fascinating white gown. You’ve always been beautiful, but you’re bound to make every angel above cry in praise as you walk down the aisle. They’ll see what I see in you, even if I’m not the man who gets to take your hand. Until death do us part, but we’ve already parted before we can ever truly begin.

Thank you for accepting me for who I am. Thank you for making me realize how much I’m worth versus the bad things my parents say about me. Thank you for always encouraging me to go after my dreams even when a lot of people has turned their backs on. Most of all, thank you for loving me as I have loved you.

I don’t deserve a space in Heaven, but I am glad I found Heaven in you. And now, I’m ready to step down. Not necessarily to let you go yet, but in time, I’ll be able to let you go and look back at our memories fondly.

So please don’t shed any more tears if I am the cause of them; it aches my heart thinking of it because you deserve all the happiness in the world. Freely live a new life with your groom and create amazing memories with him.

I believe that my purpose in God’s plan for you, which is to love you fully and authentically in this world of lies, has been fulfilled.

- J

“We must leave in 5, (Y/N).” The muffled voice of the planner echoes through your trance, one that has you silently sobbing underneath your lips. Tears that threaten to brim down, but your head shakes before they do so.

What have you done? You became a slave to your cowardice for the longest time, only for your courage to finally knock some sense into you. You simply cannot go through this ceremony, you had to get outta there.

But it was already too late. Life doesn’t wait on cowards like you.

With the white bouquet in hand, your last connection with him, you pull yourself together.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

ONE HOUR BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Pictures here, pictures there.

The ceremony hasn’t started, and yet your parents and Doyoung’s demand numerous shots with you by the hotel and in the church. Your toes start to ache in your heels, and to your side, your eyes beg Taeyong and Ten to save you from your misery.

The latter boy laughs from afar, giving you a thumbs up. Or rather his expression read, “You’re on your own to do your duty!”

Meanwhile, Taeyong cuts in between you having dreaded small talk with Doyoung’s self-righteous mother. Already proud to claim herself as your mother-in-law, your ears can bleed for every screech in her tone when she opens her mouth. Under the excuse of “having some 1-on-1 time with my only sister”, Taeyong escorts you to a quiet, closed room within the church.

“Thank God for you, Yongie.” You hug him with utmost gratitude. “I’m about to lose my mind if Mrs. Kim wouldn’t shut up.”

Taeyong laughs, gladly returning your gesture. “Anything for you, little sis.”

You scoff, correcting him. “Your only sis.”

“You know what I mean.”

The two of you smile at each other, enjoying the comfort of silence. Since you were children studying in your living room back then to the first time Taeyong taught you how to drink when you turn 18, he was like your best friend. Through thick and thin, and against your parents the two of you were. Slowly, you’re breaking the cycle of bad deeds.

Or trying to. Because neither of you got away with your arranged marriages.

Speaking of which…

“So this is really happening, huh?” Taeyong starts as he hands over a bottle of water from the refrigerator behind him. It’s by luck the two of you ended up in the private lounge of the church for esteemed wedding guests. “Are you ready for this lifelong commitment, (Y/N)?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You say flatly. “You had to go through this as well, but eventually, you began to love your wife so maybe it’ll work for me too.”

“I was very lucky with Minyoung. She’s my soulmate.” He smiles upon the thought of his lover, but it only enables the green monster of envy into your being. “But I don’t think our situations are ever going to be alike.”

You squint a brow from your stance by the window. “What do you mean?”

“I was single when I was arranged to be wed, no person vacating my heart nor had intentions to look for one.” He lingers, locking eyes with you. His bright, wide pupils that can easily read a person, it was like he was analyzing your entire mind and body language. But alas, he already knows a lot more than you can ever imagine.

It only explains how your fingers drastically slip from your bottle, spilling incandescently on the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t break because of the curtain above the wood. You alertly scurry away from the wet zone and lean against the glass bookcase of religious books. Dare not can you look at your brother in the eye, too busy being washed out with shame, guilt, and misery.

“Taeyong, I can explain.”

“What else is there to explain, little sis?” He keeps his composure, unfazed. No anger, no outlash, no negative emotions bubbling his figure. “Other than you’re in love with another man, one you know will cause mayhem when mother and father know of it.”

You want to deny everything he’s blurting out to you. But your sudden reaction is too much of a giveaway, and lying to Taeyong is impossible. Not when he’s best at sneaking around and digging secrets about everyone. Why do you think he figured out that Ten’s your half-brother, not just some exchange student from Thailand during your high school years?

“Of all the men out there, did it really have to be Jeong Jaehyun?” He asks with concern in his tone rather than judgement. It was the first time he utter the man’s name without hatred. Not when he’s someone very dear to you.

“Hush your voice! Someone might hear.” You order, peering at the door. Anyone can walk in, or eavesdrop. Your world has eyes and ears everywhere.

“Just answer the question, (Y/N).” His tone deafens, but his composure hasn’t wavered.

You sigh, gazing downwards while your fingers tightly clutch on your gown. “The heart wants what it wants. And I’m sure that until the end of time, it’ll always long for him.”

Taeyong remains speechless momentarily to calibrate with his thoughts. He’s been hesitant with Jaehyun the second he saw return to church a lifetime ago. Always up to no good, yet never to start a fight because he’s not the type. And luckily, they never crossed paths outside. He recalls how nervous he was upon hearing from the latest gossip (aka your mom) that Jaehyun joined the Bible study as probation for his consistent outside bar fights. You’re a consistent goer, so he can only pray that nothing bad happens to you.

Over the course of time, he witnessed Jaehyun tame down and become more active in church. Rather than be bitchy, he was impressed. Only God can judge people, not him. Yet at the same time, he observed how more laidback you became. You’re firm to your beliefs and faith, but not really the toxic, conservative type to force others that your beliefs were better than yours. It was more like you’ve loosened up strings and allowed to let your hair down, socializing more and trying new things. Perhaps riled your mother up for being “unladylike” at times, yet it didn’t bother you anymore. If you had fun and hurt nobody, how should a conservative mother’s unnecessary opinion affect you?

So now, onto you and Jaehyun.

It took him back when you’d both get in trouble by the nuns for your arguments, earning a scolding from him on the phone because “you’re better than this!” or a similar kind of pep talk. It’s merely enemies to somewhat friends when he thinks of the both of you, especially when you opened up how you came into a compromising understanding with Jaehyun out of maturity.

But the idea of love came rushing as he unintentionally saw the two of you kiss on the second floor of the open church. Jaehyun’s palms were situated on your waist while your arms loop behind the nape of his neck, both of you smiling at every movement your lips made.

The second floor is where the choir stays, and you and Jaehyun were packing up their songbooks post-mass. He showed you the different colors of light being reflected from the stained glass artworks. Specifically the image of the Virgin Mary, it lit up the best before the sunset. The both of you were distracted from such beauty, and eventually towards each other when specks of colored light hit your faces. Caught up in a meaningful moment, a passionate kiss where your bodies are right in front of the big crucifix was followed.

A symbol of showing Him that love had no boundaries or limitations.

A symbol that further enlightened Taeyong on how you’ve both changed.

You and Jaehyun balanced each other out over time, so it should be a no-brainer that this was going to happen. Yet he chose not to say anything about it then because he wanted to hear it from you. It was clearly a private moment too. He could’ve been mad, but he wasn’t.

You’re in love, and it’s real.

However, it’s only leading into a loophole of misery. Arranged marriages are a given in your clan, hence refraining from creating close relationships with the opposite sex. Oh, how you broke that rule ruthlessly.

“Who else knows?” You quiver, self-conscious and vulnerable. Were you not secretive enough? Did the burner phones you and Jaehyun used were actually trackable? Did someone follow you? All sorts of questions cloud your already cluttered brain.

“Ten.” Taeyong bluntly responds, and you stiffened.

As much as you love Ten, any so-called steamy information he gets within his circle he uses it as blackmail just like Taeyong. You would know; you were there when he confronted your father about his affair with his mother. That if he has no place in his empire, he’d expose such a scandal. It’s no question your mother (his step-mother when he got adopted a month after the threat) despises him to the core, a lot more than her disloyal husband.

But before the paranoia can worsen, Taeyong chimes in. “Don’t even think he’ll use it against you. In fact, he’s in favor of such like I am.”

“Wait what?!” Now, you’re confused.

“I know I confronted you at the most wrong time, and my tone this whole time is very vague.” He clarifies, and with every word, he walks toward you. As his clammy hands now holding yours, he fully lets out his main truth. “You have to make a choice, and we know this wedding isn’t the right one.”

“Taeyong, it’s too late.” You beg, utterly weak in his eyes. And how it aches him to see you like this. “He’ll never take me back. Not after he found out about the news.”

“You can never be too sure, so I wholeheartedly think that you need to make a move.” Taeyong’s quick vision spots a growing tear in your lid, wiping it carefully with his index finger. “It’s always been you being a pawn in our parents’ game. But this time, change the direction and claim your power as queen.”

“But our younger brothers…”

“I failed to set a proper example before so please learn from my experiences, (Y/N). Show them that we cannot let ourselves be controlled by our parents.”

Right as you wanted to reply, an impatient set of knocks intrude your now-or-never conversation.

“I’m already annoyed that I wasn’t invited to your heartfelt chat.” Ten’s sarcasm pipes in, which eases the tension surprisingly. “But the wedding starts in 5, and I want to spend some time with the bride as well.”

Taeyong hastily unlocks the door, while you followed behind him. Lo and behold, Ten graces a mischievous smirk as he leans against the door frame. Taeyong pecks your temple a final with a fervent look screaming “time is running” before he runs to assist Jeno refix his necktie.

That leaves you with Ten. With his arms crossed, he first marvels at your beauty.

“My sister, ever so beautiful.” The sweet scent of his parfum whiffs your nostrils, making you hum in comfort and familiarity. Regardless of being half-siblings, you always treated him the same as the rest.

“Thank you for coming. I feared that you wouldn’t after your recent brawl with dad.”

“I’d never let any shitty fight with that monster stop me from see you walk down the aisle. Plus, when are we not fighting?” He jokes, his hands finding the cloth of your veil to help you put it over your head. As per tradition as the beauty of the bride must only be saved by her groom. “But are you really happy to be here?”

Always straight to the point, that was Ten for you. With one brow lifting upwards in question, he continues on. “I’ve always known that you wanted real love, and when you did, you chose not to go through with it.”

“It’s complicated, and you know that.”

“Do I?” He challenges. “You’re in love with a boy who’s part of the rival family. That’s not hard to piece together.”

“How do you even know it’s him we’re talking about?”

“What other guy, excluding us siblings, have you been constantly around with?”

“Doyoung is there.”

“But he came in the picture late. Jaehyun, however--” He lengthens the tension. “He may have gotten on your last nerve numerous times in Bible study, but not when I saw you both have a secret late-night date by the Han River.”

Your eyes widened. Taeyong was right earlier. “Excuse me what?!”

Ten laughs at your shock. “I was trying to easen my hangover from my bar-hopping adventures with our younger brothers that night, but definitely sobered up when I saw you and him giggling over the smallest things by the river.”

“Ten, I—” It was your only public date with him, when no one could ever question or follow your moves. Even managed to convince your parents that you needed fresh air that day after all the stress at the company headquarters.

“Life is too fucking short, (Y/N).” He lays out his advice flatly. No detours, no sweet words. Just the real, harsh truth. “If you don’t make a stand, the regret of it all will kill you.”

PRESENT TIME.

Time can’t spare you a moment to breathe to answer him or deny his intentions. Because the second the wedding planner stressfully calls you over to stand behind the main church doors, all you can focus was this event. This wedding, one that numerous people anticipated. Loads of influential families that are acquainted with your parents filled up every pew, bridesmaids and groomsmen are lining up to enter the church first.

On the other hand, your parents stood each side of you. They beam in excitement, while you try to match them. Everything is for their selfish sake, anyways.

As the doors officially open, harmonious music from the band on the second floor play for everyone’s glee. Couple by couple, flower girl after flower girl, then Doyoung’s youngest cousin as the ring bearer, every single person has their eye on you. How much you’ve grown over the years, the elegance you embody is simply natural and no gown or makeup can compete with that.

Especially your groom, who shares an enchanted gaze at you from afar. And as flawless as he looks in his black suit and tie, the truth-binding words of your older brother resurface your mind. From trying to appreciate the efforts put in making the church a more enamoring location for a wedding, uncontrollable tears grace your visage. You’re glued to the program of this show, and any refusals will be disrespectful.

“Don’t get too emotional now.” Your mother comforts, only thinking that you’re overwhelmed in joy. “It’s only getting better from here.”

Lies.

Only you and Doyoung can truly share the same feeling at this moment. Even if he finds you ever so dashing, he proceeds to mask his own pain with a tight-lipped smile as he watches you walk down the long, flowery aisle. It was a representation of your life together ahead, especially seeing the petals blacken from the dirt. The reality of it all is only hitting you now as your parents hand you over to Doyoung, who directs you to the center. His hands still hold on to your covered ones, keeping up your façade.

“I’m sorry.” He mouths.

“Me too.” You reply.

The first of many. Such a disgrace to the crucifix above, yes. But what else can the two of you do now?

The priest politely greets the two of you before the ceremony officially begins.

The first and second readings ran smoothly, being read by your father and Doyoung’s mother. It’s almost like a typical mass, where the Homily often bores you to the point you wanted to pass out. Even had Doyoung, who sat beside you, worried.

“You look pale.” He comments. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a genuine smile. “It’s just hot in this church.”

“When has it not been?” He tries to joke, which you actually enjoyed.

Once the short-lived humor died down, you try to refocus your mind on the ongoing Homily. Surprisingly, you finally pick up and find yourself attentive for a change.

“Love is blind, they say. Perhaps, that’s true, as one cannot control how their heart can beat for another one. But there is also this saying: souls don’t meet by accident. Nothing in life is a coincidence: there’s always a reason why they meet. And when they do, it creates magic. They balance each other out in aspects they fall short, but not necessarily complete them. They bring the best sides of them out, yet fully let their vulnerabilities come under the light without fright. Because they know they’ll be protected than reprimanded.”

You’re unsure how restless your pupils became, eager for new perspectives. Maybe you need a fresher view other than the bright altar? If only you had your eye drops with you to alleviate the dryness, you certainly wouldn’t have felt this way.

As you blink once, twice, a couple more times, your eyes begin to feel better from the natural tears they make to lubricating itself. However, little did you realize where you were looking at.

From the altar, your vision went peripheral. By the second floor, right beside the choir, a silhouette stands up from their pew. Arms crossed and wrapping their arms around their blazer, he was rather suspicious. At this point, you’re quite acquainted with every guest present today. To the point that no one is meant to be seat up there unless you’re in the band.

You’re suddenly become aware that the longer you view that shadow, the weirder it’ll look for the guests. Your curiosity can really take you the far places, but often times, you need to be anchored before flying too far to the sun.

Speaking of which, the bright, shining light directly hits on the aforementioned shadow. Almost like a prayer, it heard you so it gave what you pleaded.

And man, you’re stunned by what unraveled before you.

His brown hair is styled upwards with a few strands in front of his forehead. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were folded to his elbows, while his black trousers have minor creases on the bottom hems. His eyebags darkened, showing lack of sleep on his end. However, his orbs greet yours with warmth. A reconnection, as you find it difficult to stray away. Dimples pop out as he smiles your way, fluttering your heart like a young teenager.

Why was it so familiar to you?

But there’s no way this was real, right? Have you started building delusions in your head as a coping mechanism to your upcoming lifelong misery?

You blink and shake your head for reassurance, but as you reopen your eyes, he was gone like magic. Yet his silhouette lingers through your mind. Alongside that, the ending words of the homily seeped through with a vengeance.

Or rather, redemption.

Because for some reason, the silhouette urged your mind to remember Jaehyun.

“The utmost beauty of these souls is how neither of them were looking when they found each other.” Insert the moment when Jaehyun emerges to the Bible study room for the first time 3 years ago. With a sinister grin and stance, he managed to lock strong eye contact on you as you were passing out Bibles to the other kids. How unshaken you were, yet so entranced by him.

“From meeting, in comes the unconditional love they’ll build.” The innocent memories of your relationship with Jaehyun when you started seeing each other romantically dance around your brain.

“In that love, they put effort everyday through the small things.” You’ve always liked white roses, while Jaehyun fancied sweet potato chips. Every getaway you both had, you’ve gifted each other with those items.

“In that love, it’s impenetrable to conquer every battle and fight that stampedes there.” If not your last encounter, there was one time you may have succeeded here. You recall defending Jaehyun from your parents at home when he put you trouble and “trouble” after Bible study. How even if he’s the so-called enemy, he’s a good person relearning what’s right from wrong. How he is not his family.

“And in that same love, it makes them feel at home.” Cue all the imaginative, future plans you and Jaehyun drunkenly made if your love story wasn’t an impossible tale. How you’d leave it up to the multiverse, you both giggled.

“So my brothers and sisters, in every story, these two souls here,” The priest naively refers to you and Doyoung. “It’s not a coincidence. The Lord knew what he was doing. He didn’t create a perfect love, but a love only the bride and groom would ever know and feel. Yet it’s a love He created in His likeness and image because He loves His children, and only bless them with eternal happiness with each other.”

In your parents’ eyes, they saw your future with Doyoung.

In your eyes, the future was set with Jaehyun. Wherever you are, all you can think of in every word the priest spoke.

And that future with him is ever so clear and beautiful…

Holy shit.

This wedding must not push through.

“Kim Doyoung and Lee (Y/N) have invited us to share in this celebration as they affirm their love before us, pledge their faith to one another and enter into the joys and privileges of marriage.” So caught up in your reverie, you’re back to standing up and facing Doyoung. The recitation of vows approaches. “If there is anyone present who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Stillness, much to your parents and Doyoung’s delight.

But now, you could care less about what others think. This needs to stop.

This is your life, and you’re reclaiming it as yours.

You need to run far, far away and find him.

Your real love, Jeong Jaehyun.

And to that, you pray within yourself:

“Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby. I'll be usin' for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t do this.” You object boldly, stepping back. “I can’t marry you, Doyoung.”

The audience behind you gasps, the priest and Doyoung especially. “What do you mean, (Y/N)?”

You felt so apologetic for his confusion. “You deserve someone who truly loves you without judgment.”

Your eyes peek over his shoulder to find a woman beside his younger brother Jungwoo quivers at the entire scene. The same woman whom you’ve found out was his first and only love, if not for you asking about her during your first encounter. Yet never did he act on his affections due to the standards of his family, and being the best friend of his brother. He feared of the consequences, but this is no time for fear.

It's time for action. If you’re going to make your move, so should he.

“Fight for your true love. Don’t make them take it away from you.” Your eyes linger momentarily on Doyoung’s real love. “Don’t let them take her away from you, and choose the life where you can be unapologetically and incandescently happy, Doyoung.”

No more words can Doyoung utter towards your plea, but instead lets his daring actions communicate back to you. It was the way his arms looped around her waist, hugging her for dear life. And how she gasped loudly the entire church can hear as she returned his empowering gesture, lacing her arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry, Sejeong.” Doyoung whispers a little too loudly. “It’s you. It’s always been you, and will forever be you I love.”

Not a breath wasted, these two lovers rapidly make their exit through an emergency door of the church. Doyoung utters nothing more to his parents, but expresses disgust and anger at how he glares at them. I’m done with your shit, his eyes read. Oh, how his dear mother cries out for him to come back while his father holds her back. Jungwoo, on the other hand, claps at his brother’s impressive move. He didn’t even bother listening to his father who ordered him to chase after him.

“They’ve always been in love with each other. Who are you to tell me to stop them?”

Meanwhile, time is ticking for you. You’ve had your run at playing matchmaker, now you need to return to your lover. One you can hope will take you back after your cowardice pushed him back to the pits of hell, while you crawled back to your seat in heaven. Although tainted you are, nothing but a few prayers and consistent good deeds will gain favor from Him again.

And so you ran. Heels of your heels click clack the marble aisle as you remove your gloves. Your freed fingers grasp on the fabric on your gown to move arther and farther away from the altar. Guests are even more bewildered by your actions, never expecting you to turn out this way.

“Lee (Y/N)!” Only the frantic voice of your mother halts you. Call it a natural reaction when you’ve grown up under her care, her ever so manipulative and overprotective care.

You huff, turning around. “What is it, mother?”

Only a few meters away from you, her hand hurtfully grips your arm. “Ow!”

“You disgust me.” She spits. “How dare you embarrass our family like this?! Have you no conscience?! Why are you acting like a child?!”

You scoff, annoyed. “I think I should be asking you the questions.”

“Excuse me?!”

You yank your arm away from her sharp fingers. Your posture stands a little taller, which is your way to signify confidence. Bravery from her threats.

“All my life, you dictated my every move. You constructed me into this good, religious good girl image so others can stray away from the corruption of our family businesses. You banned me to make my own choices and live my own life because you solely believe that your and father’s choices are the best ones. You taught me misleading ideals and beliefs, urging me to hate others who don’t resonate with me and abandon those who are lower than me. And now, you attempted to sell my freedom for the price of overflowing greed.”

You blurt out every ounce of pain you’ve gained all your life, finally relieving yourself of the burden. If only you could see the proud expressions your older brothers sport from afar, while your younger brothers can admire your courage. You’re finally taking a stand so neither of them would face a situation like this.

“You are lying!” Your mother tries to fight back, even if her lips quiver. Never would she think her only daughter could turn out like this. “That’s a sin, young lady.”

“But nothing as worse as greed, mom. One of the seven deadly sins, like you once taught me.” You smirk.

“Do not dare talk back to your mother!” Your father joins the heated scene. “What happened to you, (Y/N)? How did you turn out like this?”

You laugh, placing a hand on your chest to hold yourself back. “Your sheltered, devious way of parenting me and my brothers led me here. So much for saying we’re a self-proclaimed “God-centered” family when we are far from th--”

Your outburst is dramatically cut off with a stinging slap from your mother. Your legs give out from the impact as your butt lands flat on the marble. The crowd is in a disarray from the sudden commotion, full from all this information. Information that’ll give every journalist and gossip meals for months.

Meanwhile, all your brothers race to your aid. This has gone too far.

“You’re no longer my daughter, but the daughter of Satan himself.” Your mother rages while your palm covers your reddening cheek. You can only yourself back because physical violence shouldn’t be responded with the same thing. And being Satan’s daughter? So be it. It’s better than being the offspring of your parents.

“If not Doyoung, us, or your brothers, who would ever love and accept your lost, pitiful soul?”

“I would.”

A deep voice sends shivers to your figure. Almost like he’s enraged, you swivel your head to the source like everyone else.

It was none other than the silhouette from earlier, emerging from the darkness of the aisle. Except now, he was no regular silhouette. It embodies more sharpness and tidiness, like prestige and power exalts his bones. Almost like a complete redo.

Speaking of which, what your eyes laid upon prior wasn’t a hallucination. The more light from the church and the sun combined shines through, you managed to piece their appearance.

And how stupid you feel not to have pointed it out. The voice alone should’ve knocked some sense of you, because it was none other than--

“Jaehyun.”

The mentioned man continues to strut out, gradually exposing and making himself known to everyone present today. And it’s without a doubt that the gossip from this event alone can feed a whole country, especially with your father seething from his stance.

“Why is there a Jeong in this immaculate event?” He blames. “Have you not learned from your probation and dare barge in my daughter’s wedding?”

“What wedding, sir?” Jaehyun smirks sinisterly, slowly approaching your feeble figure. “It’s more like I witnessed physical and verbal assault against your daughter. In fact, everyone did. Including the Lord himself.”

“I oughtta-” Your father prepares his fist to meet Jaehyun’s face, if not Taeyong’s swift hand catching it.

“Not today, father. And never.” He throws a death glare at his predecessor.

Simultaneously, Jaehyun’s hands reach out for yours. You wobble for a bit when you get up, but you find your balance. His rage and frustration soften into concern at your overwhelmed state, lifting the veil over your head to cradle your weary face.

“Are you okay, my love?” His palm soothes your aching cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you on time.”

“You--” You start to choke on your words. “You’re here. You came back for me.”

“Of course, I did.” He grins genuinely. “I should’ve never left you like that back then. Not when we needed each other the most.”  

Before proper words can leave your scattered mind, your father screams like he witnessed a bloody murder.

“What is the meaning of this?! There’s no way this is the man you love, (Y/N)!” He screams, while your mother faints at the sight.

“Surprise, father.” You smile with mischief. “I fell in love with the so-called enemy, and I shall spend the rest of life eternally with him.”

“I object this union!”

“I don’t fucking care.” You curse without remorse. Sparing a loving glance at your man after, “Fuck you, mother, and everything else in this feud. I am done.”

Angrily, your father nearly charges in front of you and Jaehyun. But you’re spared in a flash if not for Taeyong and Mark pulling him back. Jeno and Haechan, on the other hand, hold on to her before she loses her consciousness again. And also avoid her from hurting you.

Ten calls out both your names from the side. Suddenly, a pair of car keys are thrown at your direction. Jaehyun catches them instantly.

“Save your sweet yet vengeful reunion someplace else and run! Now!”

You’ve completely forgotten how public this wedding was as every person spectate how you take hold of Jaehyun’s hand, leading you to a more private exit of the church. Taking the main doors will spark a frenzy by the paparazzi, and that’s the last thing you need on your agenda.

Now in the parking lot in the back, Jaehyun’s fingers from his free hand click the buttons of Ten’s car keys, One of the cars activates in perfect condition, lights flicking and beeping sonorously. And thank God, it’s right in front of you.

“Motherfucker, it’s a Ferrari.” Jaehyun marvels.

“Jaehyun, we gotta go!” You rush inside the shotgun, conscious of who may find the both of you.

It’s not a surprise that the journalists got ahold of your speeding departure since you have to drive out in front of the church to get away from it. Even if Ten’s windows were tinted so no one can detect who was inside, the guests finally vacated from the building and told their own versions of what unfolded in the supposed Kim-Lee union.

And while the news are brewing and buzzing, you and Jaehyun have absolutely no idea where to drive off to.

“That was insane!” You burst out. The adrenaline rush of it all still raced your veins, while Jaehyun’s attention is firm at the road ahead of him. “I never felt or done anything like this!”

He chuckles as his fingers retract to your hand again, lifting it to kiss the top. “You’ve turned into a bad girl, baby. What are we gonna do about that?”

“Would living a new, happier life for ourselves be the best way to avenge everything they’ve done to us?” You suggest. “I know we’ve been through a lot, but I was no better for letting you walk out like that without a proper fight for our love.”

Jaehyun sighs from the painful memory. “And I understood why you did. I had no right to pressure you into something so drastic when your family has already stressed you out enough.”

“But still!” You acclaim. “You’ve always fought for us, so I should’ve done the same before all of this happened.”

“So, you must truly love me.” Jaehyun attempts to lighten up the mood. Reaching a red light, he tilts his body to face you. Even after being chased down, he remains ever ethereal as beads of sweat rest on his brows and his once-perfectly done hair is crazily tousled.

“If I didn’t, I would’ve never caused a scene especially with God watching us.” You lean a little closer to him, resting both of your hands on his shoulders. If not for the car handle blocking you, you’d be sitting on his lap. “Because He sent you to me as a blessing. Not a curse from the devil, but a blessing who taught me to be brave and never take anyone’s shit.”

“Cursing like this still feels so new to me, baby.” The glimmer in his eyes darken with desire, moving closer to your lips.

“Better get used to it, sweetheart.” Merely inches left, your lips teasingly brush his. “It’s you and me until the end of the time.”

The confidence of your tone was met with the element of surprise when Jaehyun’s lips finally planted on yours. Your sultry yet romantic-filled words put all his senses of haywire, as if you bewitched him with your everlasting charms. Your lips curve into a smile as they part so his tongue can slide in. The taste of his favorite mint candy mellow your nerves down, easing you back to a calmer state of mind.

How you missed his touch.

How you missed his presence.

How you missed him, and everything that goes along with it.

As passionate as your affections are at the moment, it’s only to be interrupted by the loud, irritated honks from the vehicles behind you.

The red light has now turned green.

The two of you can only laugh in embarrassment, like two horny teenagers caught by their headmasters. Yet the youthful energy you both radiate remains. Jaehyun holds your hand again before stepping on the engine, rubbing the sides of your thumb.

“Oh, baby. I’d be more than glad to be sinfully vowed to you.”

5 YEARS LATER.

Jeong Estates and Co. secured the highest rank of top real estate companies within Seoul.  

This wouldn’t be made possible if not for Krystal Jeong, second in line at the Jeong family business. One of the Jeong cousins rather. No bitter feelings she felt on getting the job. In fact, she’s more than ecstatic to acclaim the highest position in their clan. As for Sungchan, he just entered law school in high hopes of taking over his mother’s law firm. But only years after taking the bar exam then starting for the bottom up. Often times, he secretly gives his older brother a call on his burner phone or vice versa. No matter what, they are still brothers. Heck, highly urged him to chase after you when he found out the truth behind his older brother’s love for you.

Lee Properties, the real estate company of Lee Corporation, are more focused on expanding their branches across the world. Ranking no longer mattered, as long as the quality of their work constantly. Mark, under the guidance of Taeyong and Ten in the beginning, took over the company. Thanks to the three, they branched out to the US, UK, and Japan. Family-wise, the 5 brothers isolated themselves from their parents since that day. Everything has become business for them. Because they refuse to be associated with people responsible for the almost-downfall of their only sister.

The general feud between families remain unsolved, even after the mayhem of the failed wedding. Although there have been are rumors circulating that the brothers of each family made amends, but nothing has been confirmed. The tension intensified, and no dares to get in their loop.

People who work in media make sure to never put them in the same room for interviews or events. People working in their companies dare not to speak of the enemy company. Anyone who’s within the presence of any family member can only bow their head and pray they don’t get called out.

Most of all, everyone goes silent of the forbidden romance built between their each of their children.

That’s the thing with the Lees and Jeongs: they’re old-money royalty with filthy history. If you get in their way, might as well say goodbye to everything you worked hard for.

That’s how powerful they are.

Yet only two people defied all the odds.

Speaking of them, where do you and Jaehyun stand?

“I’m home!” Jaehyun greets loudly as he opens the door. He drops off his satchel of tools by the doorstep, removing his dirty loafers and switching to house slippers.

“In the kitchen!” You respond. Just in time for dinner, you love how prompt he is.

From behind, warm yet sweaty arms wrap around your waist. He must’ve had a long day, especially when he was gone the moment you woke up. But it’s not much of a worry since you also had a early start that day.

“Smells good here.” Jaehyun’s chin tucks on your shoulder. “What are we having tonight?”

“Homemade ravioli as a gift from Francesca next door,” You continue stirring the aromatic pan. “With tomato sauce made by me.”

“Delicious.” He sniffs. “I missed you.”

You giggle from his short kiss on your cheek. “I missed you too, but you reek off sweat.”

“When am I not?” He teases. “Gotta earn to maintain this roof on top of our heads.”

“Keep that habit up, or someone else here might make me vomit like last time.” Your free hand lowers his hands to the bump of your swelling stomach. Perhaps only now did you believe that there is one when it used to be slightly flatter.

“Speaking of which,” He rubs it gently. “How’s she today? No trouble?”

“Thankfully, no.” You turn the stove off, satisfied with the finished dish. Turning around, your hands situate themselves on your lower back. A new habit since your body has been adjusting to all these new changes. “I’m confident the nausea is subsiding, but now my feet hurt like crazy.”

“My love,” Jaehyun coos, caging you in his arms. “How about I take a quick shower, enjoy this meal you made, then give you a foot massage?”

“Oh yes, that sounds divine.” You hum, pecking his lips. “Now get off me. You seriously stink as fuck.”

So much for your mood swings, Jaehyun chuckles as he makes his way to the bathroom of your master bedroom. You roll your eyes st the playful man while you prepare the dining table. Yet you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Life ever since that crazy day became more peaceful and joyful. Freeing to retake the control you have over your life, whilst sharing it with the man you truly love.

For a couple of months, you and Jaehyun resided in a private cottage somewhere deep in Jeju Island. Only he knew of its existence because he himself built it from the ground up. Formerly in the real estate, he’s always had an interest for architecture. But instead of picking that major in college (because his parents were against it), he studied elsewhere with his own money. It clearly paid off as it gave the two of you the perfect hideaway from all the drama.

And led the most memorable of nights in your shared bedroom, especially you finally confessed your deepest desire of him fully taking your purity away. Sure, virginity is a social construct but you trusted Jaehyun with your life. After everything you’ve been through together, how can you not?

One kiss is all it took before he had you squirming and moaning on his cock, thrusting and hitting your sweet spots. His words of praise in every movement led you one step closer to heave. You see, heaven wasn’t just a place you go to when you die in good spirits. But it can be through a person.

And his name was Jeong Jaehyun.

Physically, your body turned sore the following day. But emotionally, you’re thrilled. He took good care of you like the passionate lover he is, but that’s bare minimum. We shouldn’t celebrate those things, though there’s something unique about it when Jaehyun carrying you to a warm tub and feeding you your favorite homemade meals that very day. To make up for hitting it too hard, he egotistically claims.

But can you blame him?

Exactly.

Later on, the two of you permanently migrated to the countryside area of Italy. Having loved the quiet side of Jeju Island whilst craving a new adventure, Europe took an interest to the both of you. Italy became your top choice if not for having individual traveling experiences there. And how you equally enjoyed its culture and aura.

Thus, you wanted to create more memories together and start anew. And by that, you and him rented an apartment within Tuscany and worked different jobs from your university majors.

From being a business management major, you became an English teacher at the local elementary school. You enjoyed taking care of children, teaching them all new things and encouraging them to be their best selves. There are also times you walk some of them home if their parents cannot fetch them. Holding your hand so they avoid any cars passing by, your heart is full when they obey and tell you all sorts of imaginative tales. You adore their curiosity, and you always make sure to be the best role model you can be.

From majoring in finance, Jaehyun ventured into construction and architecture. He was always hands on, conceptualizing and building all sorts of things for other people’s needs. It’s a plus that he’s always followed an active lifestyle, his muscles making it easier to bring those things to different destinations. The big boss of the business he works for can rely him on him big time, saving money on gas for the moving truck. So it’s no surprises girls attempt to throw themselves at him for his looks and strength. But it’s nothing you worry about.

Because at the end of the day, it’s still you he comes home to you. And makes you come until all the stars of the universe are within your periphery.

With all the money you both earn (and pawning your unnecessary designer items), it eventually becomes enough for two things: building a new house and your wedding.

There’s a piece of land Jaehyun’s boss gifted him as gratitude for expanding his business, which is near one of his beloved vineyards. Since that day, Jaehyun devoted time and effort to build your dream home. With some help with friends he made from work.

It meant sacrificing alone time with him, which did strike an argument or two. But it’s nothing too big you couldn’t resolve. Because you’re both sure that his efforts are going to be worth it.

And how beautiful the final output was. Modern with a rustic feel, there were 3 floors to your entire home. With a patio, there’s also a garden of various flowers and crops you and Jaehyun planted during the construction process. And now, they’re finally coming in full bloom this time around. After that, you can see the various vineyards which trails to the best view of the sunset. 

Quite the villa, you two have. It has everyone in town wanting to take a visit whenever they can and how inviting you’d be to all of them for special occasions.

Upon tradition, the whole home was blessed by the priest before you fully moved in. And boy, nothing could hold you back from running through every furnished floor, only to hold and kiss your man for a job well done. But the mood became heated as his hands cup your butt and lifted you up as he lead you to your master bedroom.

Your wedding came shortly after. It was held at a small chapel within Tuscany, with locals you’ve befriended over time, your brothers, and Sungchan.

Yes, they accepted your private invitations and made sure not to disclose this event to anyone back home. Most especially, both of your parents.

You and Jaehyun feared your brothers wouldn’t get along the slightest. Initially, there was tension when you invited them to dinner at your new home. Mark, Haechan, and Ten inspected with Sungchan with suspicion, while the younger boy returns the judgmental loo. Jeno and Taeyong, on the other hand, fell silent as they didn’t want to utter a word at him.

Accepting Jaehyun took a while, so what more with Sungchan? He was outnumbered by your 5 prideful brothers, and based on the tales of your then fiancé, he was a good boy.

“Yah.” It was your sharp voice that cuts the tense air, which was a new experience for everyone. In fact, they’re all getting used to your newfound voice that’ll slice and dice anyone that disrespects you. “If you are all going to act like children, we’ll turn out m like our parents and those before. We’ll never end our feud, and hurt more people we love.”

“Whatever problems you have with each other, sort that shit out right now. Or we can kick you out, where the nearest motel is 4 hours away.”

So yes, you may have threatened them. But it does spark change within both families, especially when Jeno opened up about his interest for the law firm under Lee Corporation. He was in 2nd year of law school that time.

Instead of thinking as competition, Sungchan started up about his life as a freshman because it turns out that they’re studying in same school. Eventually, Mark and Taeyong came around to talk about their hobbies. And as for Haechan and Ten, they were responsible for filling up everyone’s wine glasses until everyone passed out in the living room.

You’re merely lucky how the wedding was still a week and a half away. But mostly, new friendships were made and you’re certain this will cause a major shift in the feud.

And finally, as you and Jaehyun said “I do” and sealed a kiss in front of your loved ones, off to your honeymoon you go. Funded by Taeyong and Ten (which you failed to reject out of embarrassment), you and Jaehyun went to your favorite Italian city: Milan. The both of you spent all the cash they gave to your heart’s content after putting them into your home and wedding, exploring the designer stores and shops of the locals.

With the former, it made you reminisce your younger self. The one who was so naïve to everything while she threw the money from mommy and daddy’s credit cards on bags and clothes. But now, designer items are just items with an esteemed name. Their worth is nothing compared to the culture of the locals back in Tuscany, and the love you continue to grow with Jaehyun.

It’s no wonder that over time, that same love eventually created something magical.

And it came in the form of your unborn child that you fiercely carry. It’s only like yesterday when you and Jaehyun anticipated in your bedroom for the tests you took. This came to be after your period not arriving, the weird food combinations you consume, and your mood swings being out of this world. Or that’s at least what Jaehyun shared, but he can be quite overdramatic at times.

As we return to the present time, you caress your hard tummy that holds so much life. How you feel the smallest flutter of your daughter as she continues to grow or the first time you heard her heart beat in the monitor. It still makes your heart soar when the doctor confirmed the gender of your baby. In a world of boys, another girl just like you made you feel complete. With Jaehyun, he’d have a little girl he can take to all sorts of adventures and dance around with.

Heck, he already made the crib from scratch from his excitement and cleared out one of your guest rooms for the baby. If that doesn’t soften your heart, you didn’t know what will. He’s always had a fondness for kids, especially with your profession. And now, the both of you shall have your own to take care and love.

5 months down, 4 more to go.

You lay on your back on the couch, resting your head by the edge. Your fingers skim through an open book as Jaehyun’s hands work their magic to relieve the constant ache of your feet.

“What matters most are the simple pleasures so abundant that we can all enjoy them...” You read aloud the text of your precious novel. The baby enjoyed being read to, whether it be from your or Jaehyun. Meanwhile, the mentioned man listens along as it is one of his childhood favorites. “Happiness doesn’t lie in the objects we gather around us. To find it, all we need to do is open our ey-”

A strong set of kicks to your gut interrupts your reading, a loud groan leaving your lips. Jaehyun’s alert to help you out, clutching on your stomach as you try to sit upright.

“What happened?” Jaehyun chides. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“She…” Your eyes begin to well up. “She’s kicking for the first time.”

The baby wildly makes her presence known as she remains persistent in her actions. Stunned, your hands find Jaehyun’s and place them on your stomach. This has never happened to either you, and both of you wanted to treasure the moment.

Your husband keeps quiet upon his amazement in feeling his small feet of his baby girl. He smiles, changing his hand positions to find her in your womb. It’s almost like you’re raising 2 kids.

“That tickles, Jae!” You squeal, readjusting your stance. Back pain is becoming a bitch lately.

“Does it hurt?” His hands stay put in one spot near your belly button, where your daughter enjoyed to play around the most.

You give a tight-lipped smile. “Not really, but now it’s a bit bothersome.”

“Oh no…” He says with worry, head leaning near your tummy to speak to your daughter. “Baby, don’t hurt your mommy. She makes sure you’re strong and well, so be nice, okay?”

You gush from his words. Your mind is elated to create future scenarios of their father-daughter bonding, something you wish you had more of when you were younger. But you know your husband, the family guy he’s become. Because you both made an oath to never become your parents, to be better and wiser.

Finally, the kicks weakened and felt your daughter rest on one corner of your tummy. By this time, she’s fallen asleep. And by her actions, it exhausted you as well as her unofficial punching bag. Jaehyun, who was bound to resume his massaging, catches you yawn and stretch your arms out.

��Tired?” He asks, and you nod.

“I think I’ll continue reading the book tomorrow.” You close your beloved copy of the Little Prince, and pull your feet off from your husband’s lap.

“Wait.” He stops you, standing up before you do.

You quirk a brow. “Yes, babe?”

“There’s no way you’re walking up the stairs with sore feet.” Suddenly, he lifts you off the couch as he carries you bridal style. You shriek with shock, but not loud enough to disturb your baby.

“Jaehyun! Put me down!” He shakes his head. “Am I not heavy? I’m carrying your child after all.”

“Nothing will be heavy enough when it comes to you and our baby.” He reassures. “Now, let’s get both of you to bed, hmm?”

Refusing his advances would be an endless fight, so you concede the moment you nuzzle your head on his chest. Fresh laundry, his scent fills your nostrils. You loved the warmth when he’s close to you like this, nearly dozing off when he walks up the stairs. He was your home, and you don’t ever want to leave him.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is enamored by you each passing day. He witnessed all your good and bad times, the latter especially as they eventually led to the better days of your shared life. He didn’t want to admit how afraid he was when you two eloped from everyone, but you’ve always known. He didn’t have to tell you because you put in your own efforts to make him feel at bay. That it’s okay to feel vulnerable, that it’s okay to take risks. Because you were both in this together, that’s in the vows you unofficially said back in Jeju Island and reiterated in your actual wedding.

Another thing Jaehyun loved about you was this endless glow when you’re passionate about your job at the school, stand up for yourself, and express true joy from the small, finer things in life. But there came a unique kind glow you embodied since you told him the news of your pregnancy.

It was a major step in any loving relationship, and if there’s anyone he’d experience it with, he’s blessed that it’s with you. Like he once said when you were younger, you are God’s favorite angel.

When he gently lays you down on your side of the bed, catching how your eyelids effortlessly fell down, he kisses your forehead. “Good night, angel.”

As he rests on the opposite side, your hand finds his chest.

“Jae.”

Surprised, he moves to face your side. Your lids may be droopy, but you had extra strength to carress his cheek with the same hand. Under the moonlight from your balcony doors, he looked effortlessly beautiful. Even with some greying hairs on his nape, wrinkles forming in his forehead, and eyebags darkening from his restless nights, your heart is full of love for him. Whether it’s from your hormones acting up or not, that’s never going to change.

He's a representation of your bravery, and how glad you are to take on the challenge to push for your love.

Because in the end, it all worked out like you both wanted.

“Hmm, baby?” His hand cup yours.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” You place his other hand on your tummy again. “On us.”

“Thank you for fighting for our love, for showing those who doubted us that it has a place in our world.” Jaehyun shares an endearing smile, paving a way for his remarkable dimples. Some things don’t age, like your youthful souls. Ever so daring and adventurous, parenthood doesn’t sound like such a bad idea if it’s two of you embarking on it together.

“Even if it almost earned a punch from my dad?” The once-frightening memory earns a chuckle from both your lips. Little did your younger selves know what they’d face after.

“What can I say? I meant every word I say then, to be put in his place.” He defends. “And you know what else I meant that day?”

“Enlighten me.”

Oh, you can only feel real happiness and gratitude for the man in front of you. He is a man of his word, and proved endlessly with his actions. And he shall continue to do so for the rest of your lives.

“I’d be more than glad to be sinfully vowed to you, (Y/N). Forever and always.”

copyright © 2022 by alluringjae.

[ghostlycoyote0]

Alright, enjoy! I know it’s kind of disjointed, but there’s only so much formatting you can do in a minecraft book. Especially since you can’t go back and edit it without having to shift the entire rest of the book around, because each individual page has a character limit and text will not automatically carry over to the next page.

Milo, the Dragonslayer.

Coyote, Bane of Stymphalia, Lord of the Scaled Wing.

Heroes of legend.

Long ago, when they first set foot upon this land, they were naught but inexperienced wanderers with dreams of glory.

On their first night, they were swarmed by monsters on all sides, and thus they took shelter in a small cave until dawn. Coyote examined an odd egg she had come across earlier that day. On a whim, she attempted to hatch the egg, and a small lizard-chicken emerged within seconds. She was rendered speechless in her surprise and elation, and thus Milo was the one to name the chick. He was dubbed Craig, and became the subject of much love.

The next day, they stumbled across a village, guarded by an iron golem. Milo thought it wise to pit Craig against the golem to take its iron, leading to the cockatrice’s tragic demise. In grief, the pair refused to accept this fate, turning to dark magic to bring him back from beyond the veil. It worked, and Craig returned with a new coat of gold feathers.

Their travels lead them to a river, which they feared would lead to the deaths of their beloved pets and companion at the jaws of a sea serpent. Coyote constructed a temporary shelter while Milo made the voyage.

It was there that he found a village being reduced to ash by a green fire dragon. He threw himself at the beast for days and nights, eventually felling it with his bare hands and earning the title of Dragonslayer.

That dragon went on to become the pair’s symbol, and the set of armour forged from its scales is still displayed atop their tower today.

They claimed the dragon’s territory for their own, placing their home where its roost once was.

After some time of building up their home, they ventured into the jungle to tame a couple of the majestic amphitheres that wheel about above the canopies. Coyote lead the effort with bow in hand, but the Dragonslayer was instrumental in the tracking. They brought home two of the feathered serpents; Athena and Apollo, who carried the heroes with astounding grace and speed.

It was soon after this that Coyote realised her affinity for all things where reptilian and avian meet. This realisation would lead to her taking on her first title: The Lord of the Scaled Wing.

Craig, meanwhile, became the caretaker of the flock of chickens that every cockatrice hatched since descends from.

He succumbed to poison on patrol one night, having valiantly defended his home from the monsters in the night until his dying breath. Once again, the pair turned to dark magic, refusing to let their oldest companion be taken from them. Since that night, Craig has been retired from active combat, instead watching over his flock and acting as a mentor to young cockatrices.

The Dragonslayer, with the Scaled Wing’s blessing, collected and hatched many cockatrice eggs, building an army to assist him in his adventuring.

The Lord worked on her bestiary all the while, compiling information gathered from old manuscripts written by long-forgotten adventurers. It was through this research that she learned of stymphalian birds, with their metal feathers that would allow an arrow to seemingly defy gravity if used as fletching. She took Athena and flew to the swamp at once.

She did not expect the sheer ferocity and aggression the birds fought with. The manuscripts she so trusted had been wrong in that regard. Athena valiantly defended the Lord from the endless hail of bronze feathers. Despite the Lord’s panicked attempts, the serpent lost her life. This loss sent her into a blind rage, hunting down flicks of stymphalian birds for days. She finally returned home, bloodied and distraught, with a bronze skull in hand. This is how she earned her second title: The Bane of Stymphalia.

A banner made in Athena’s memory now serves as the Lord’s personal symbol, though she prefers to display the green dragon on her shield.

The Dragonslayer forged a greatsword of dragon bone, which the Lord infused with lightning dragon blood. This sword, Veritas, was later accidentally incinerated in a mishap involving sirens and a bucket of lava. The Dragonslayer now wields Veritas: Reforged.

On a spelunking trip, they discovered a cavern inhabited by two adult dragons, with scales of emerald green. The Lord concluded two things; Firstly, that this must have been a mated pair, and secondly, that they must have been the parents of the young beast the Dragonslayer had killed the claim this land for the two of them. The dragons did not take kindly to being disturbed, nor, presumably, did they appreciate the death of their hatchling.

The battle was a blur of tooth, claw, and blade. Fire clashed with lightning, arrows pierced between scales, and the beasts tore their way to the surface. Soon, the blades struck true, and the dragons fell. The heroes were confused to find no signs of eggs, and far more gold than usual, until they noticed that both dragons had spotted wings and were therefore male. Nonetheless, it had been a monumental victory. The skull of one of those dragons now resides over the Dragonslayer’s bed.

Along the way, the Lord hatched more cockatrices, losing each one to a tragic accident before they could be written in the pages of history. These, combined with the loss of Athena, and Craig’s two resurrections, led her to stop hatching the lizard-chickens she loves so much. Nowadays, she only rarely attempts to hatch an egg, and never risks having more than one at her side.

This one cockatrice is a personal guard and faithful companion, staying stationed at the Lord’s home when she is away. They have the prestigious title of Champion of the Scaled Wing.

The Dragonslayer only further cemented his place as a legend, amassing a vast collection of dragon skulls and dragon scale armour.

Incidentally, he beta read this book and decided to write his own. I recommend one reads that too, as it will likely have a more detailed account of his own adventures, as well as any details I may have missed.

[The book is signed with a symbol of a red amphithere]

So.. I may have written a whole history/lore book for @prince-frederic and I’s Minecraft Ice and Fire server based on the stuff we’ve done

One like and I’ll transcribe the whole thing next time I’m on that server

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 28/2021) - Enderwalk’s Response

Foolish’s summer home gains another new resident for the time being, as Ponk sets up a shack to stay at while he works on the massive supreme fridge.

Ranboo checks his Memory Book and finds that something new has been written in it.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Ranboo

Badboyhalo

Captain Puffy

---

- In preparation for the construction of the supreme fridge, Ponk sets up a campsite at Foolish’s summer home. He works on constructing a wooden shack.

- Foolish gathers glowstone in the Nether

- He notices that there have been additions made onto the L’Sandburg/L’Puffburg capital, including a new official L’Puffburg flag.

- He then sees the house that Ponk built and goes over, running into Ponk inside.

- Foolish asks, wasn’t Ponk going to build a supreme fridge? Ponk explains that he needs a place to rest and store his items. 

- Ponk shows Foolish the movie posters and asks if he thinks the mom from Coraline is hot.

- They work out a place for Ponk to build the massive supreme fridge at Foolish’s summer home. The fridge will be solar powered, an act of friendship.

- Foolish points out that everything Ponk is saying sounds an awful lot like what the L’Sandburgians told him. History is repeating itself. 

- Ponk thanks Foolish for not burning down his shack and for letting him build on this land to prove his friendship, and leaves.

- Foolish thinks that the summer home might become more of a summer...neighborhood? Town? 

- First, he replaces the obsidian on the L’Sandburg/L’Puffburg tower with sandstone.

- Then he decorates the tower with blue concrete and glowstone.

- Ranboo brews potions for a roadtrip. Phil comes over to show him a trick to make it easier.

- Ranboo stumbles across the splash water bottles in a brewing stand

- Phil comes over to yoink them and splashes them on himself, telling Ranboo he’s safe now

- Ranboo told Phil about the experiments, but Phil doesn’t know what they were for. Phil thinks they’re to build up resistance

- Ranboo opens his Memory Book to see if he got any answers...

What am I?

I am someone who stops conflict. I need to make sure that if any conflict arises to try and help in any way possible.

MAKE SURE THAT EVERYONE IS SAFE. STOP CONFLICT. MAKE THE SERVER BETTER.

This is what I need to do. Trust me.

- At least the Enderwalk is communicating. Why would Ranboo need to do that? There isn’t much conflict on the server now. He’s not sure what this means.

- He doesn’t think there’s going to be conflict. Maybe a little bit, but just the battle between hotels, if anything. This is just something to remember.

- Ranboo goes back to preparing and gifts Phil a Totem of Undying for the trick.

- Phil tells Ranboo he found something in his chest: some splash water bottles. He doesn’t know how they got there.

- Ranboo tells Phil he’s only been using them to build up a tolerance to water.

- Phil wishes him a safe trip. Ranboo says he’ll grab Phil a third totem and heads off.

- Ranboo runs on top of the Nether roof. He has to get more totems because he’s scared. Tubbo used up a totem the other day already. He has to make sure everyone has one. Can he put a totem on Michael?

- He’s supposed to be the “conflict resolution person,” but he’s not great at it due to his lack of backbone. He has to be a little less spineless so that he can help solve conflict. 

- Tommy trying to get past all his traumatic experiences and the stuff with the TNT cannons was kind of strange, right? What is he trying to do? Something to do with the prison.

- He hasn’t seen Quackity in a long time, ever since Doomsday. Everything’s been quite quiet, it’s weird.

- There’s the Egg, but according to Sam, the Egg is good. So maybe everything will return to being chill.

- Quackity and Fundy both, he hasn’t seen since Doomsdsay. He saw NIki for the Syndicate...

- Sam is an interesting person. He’s still dealing with the death of Tommy, but Ranboo thinks he can still be trusted to get rid of the Egg.

- Ranboo’s been very detached from a lot of people at this point, to the point where he doesn’t remember what a lot of people even did wrong. Quackity and Fundy have probably moved on from a lot of things.

- Ranboo and Tubbo have a mutual understanding that there are probably things that they’ve kept from each other. 

- The reason that Ranboo hasn’t told people about the Enderwalk is because he literally can’t, kind of. He just gets stopped when he tries to say something that he’s done, and this is new.

- He hopes that in the Enderwalk, he’s still careful and doesn’t slip up and reveal something he can’t explain.

- Tubbo told Ranboo about the Manberg Festival and that he was outed as a traitor to Manberg and escaped to Pogtopia, but not being executed.

- Bad does a chill stream discussing a lot about the Egg lore!

- He’s working on building a massive wall at his and Skeppy’s mansion

- Puffy, Bad and Ant do some PvP with each other

---

Upcoming Events:

- Tommy’s prison break-in

- Quackity’s business opening

- Bad’s Egg lore stream

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

[saberstars]

I'm Here

Pairing: Gender Neutral Y/N & Loki

Fluff, angst, implied smut

Warnings: Mentions of depression/mental illness, epilepsy/seizures, mentions of sex, as always if I missed anything feel free to let me know

Summary: Loki & You have a pre-existing friendship with benefits & one night you have a seizure after some spiciness. He cares for you helping you afterwards & makes sure you rest easy & safe. Reader is portrayed to have seizures more so during changes in sleep phases, not awake. The wake seizures or more of a medium ish absence/ focal aware seizure that only occur on occasion & can be “fought” through.

Word Count: 1796

Notes: This was intended to be a gender neutral reader. I think I removed all he/she pronouns.

Additionally, I know that not everyone experiences seizures the same way, and that epilepsy can affect people differently. This is all written from my experiences with it, so I ask that you do not tell me I portrayed something wrong. I can and will accept constructive criticism, But I will not accept someone telling me blatantly that I am wrong with my experiences. Therefore please keep that in mind when reading. I genuinely hope this fic brings others comfort if you suffer from epilepsy or any disorder that causes seizures. Thank You <3

It’s been three years since you found out you suffered from epilepsy. A diagnosis that came late in your life to be fair. As a young child up until you reached adulthood, you suffered from eye shakes that would eventually turn into stuttering spells that made it difficult to breath or not breath properly at all. You never passed out though, you got close a few times, but you managed to stay awake and “fight it off.” You started to notice over time that you’d also get a strange taste in your mouth, almost like metal or as if you were sucking on a battery and it had that zing flavor. You knew that was a precursor and would panic on cue rightfully so. You hated when you had your mini stutter fests because all you could do was hope it didn’t happen.

Of course you complained to your parents as a child but they didn’t think it was anything. They said it was just a panic attack. So you took their word for it. That was until you started having grand mals in your sleep. At first you thought they were just a part of some strange dream, that wasn't real to you, not yet anyway. You would wake up exhausted, sore, sometimes unable to move properly, walk, open and close a fist, and you just overall couldn't stay conscious sometimes. Again you complained to your parents about it, but they said it was nothing. You probably had night terrors or some form of minor sleep paralysis. So you dumbly believed them.

When you moved out, You sought answers, and eventually got them. You were grateful. The medication they prescribed helped tremendously though, it did make you tired but it was worth not having your episodes. Thankfully your case wasn’t as severe as others and it was manageable so long as you took care of yourself and took your medications. Though you were warned, breakthroughs were common, and missing your dose can and would cause a seizure.

Despite having such a diagnosis, you kept it to yourself. You never really told anyone. It wasn’t until you started sleeping with a friend, that you finally divulged your secret too in the event that it ever happened whilst they were with you.

It was someone you randomly slept with on and off with. A friend with benefits, his name was Loki. You had met the god shortly after his father had passed and his home, destroyed. You found comfort with each other despite it being more of a sexual comfort. You both used sex as a way to fight your own demons, a distraction, a quick grab at serotonin. Despite the sex you both developed a very deep friendship. You’d read together on occasion, have very interesting debates on current events, history, as well as other nuances, and a lot of other things. You even met his brother and the avengers at one point.

You both slept soundly after spicy events had taken place 2 hours prior, Loki had come over desperate for attention of any kind. He didn’t say why, but you knew it was a rather serious topic he wished not to discuss and rather lessen the pain with ecstasy. Little did you know, on this day a few years ago he indirectly murdered his mother. He blamed himself dearly, he knew if he would have kept his mouth shut for once in his life she may be here today. So he needed a genuine distraction. One of any kind. Preferable you. Due to the spicy events that took place you missed your dose, due to falling asleep promptly after, which cost you dearly. Missing doses always caused this to happen no matter what.

You gasped for air like usual, your body contorting outwards first with a thrust. You were awake, conscious, and terrified for the few seconds you normally were given before blacking out. You began to stutter violently all the air leaving your lungs as it happened. Until no sounds were made and it was just you chattering. Loki woke immediately, with a completely calm exterior despite a raging mixture of emotions internally. He knew you never called an ambulance for these things because you were normally alone & unaware until you became conscious again. She made him promise to never call 911 unless it was over a certain time length, to save her medical expenses, or unless she stopped breathing for good.

Loki dare not touch you though as you shook and curled up. The last thing he wanted was his godly strength to crush you somehow or cause you more pain. Instead he watched and hovered until you finally stopped. It was a short 50 second one, which was under your time limit, but he still debated calling. It’s not like You would’ve known he lied.

His breathing hitched as he went to check your pulse and airway, ever so delicately, which were both clear and strong.

“Oh thank you.” he whispered

A few hours had slid by with still no response from you. Loki sat next to you, staring down at you, to the point where he would fight the urge to blink, waiting for a stir of some kind from you. He did give the courtesy of redressing you though, in a nightgown from a drawer after an hour slid past. He even went as far as ensuring that you were adequately covered by the blankets to avoid being chilled. It has been 3 ½ hours now, with no stir of any kind from you. He knew it would be awhile before you showed any signs of movement possibly but this worry tore him to his core. In the midst of waiting he refused to just idly go back to sleep next to you, he was determined to stay awake until you were conscious again, so that you knew, he stayed there waiting for you. Loki didn’t know when he found himself talking to you as if you were awake, but all he knew was that it made him feel a bit better, and he hoped that when you woke it would make you feel better too.

“You know, I’ve been reading this really dumb gothic romance novel. I think you’d like it because of how naive the girl is. I know you like to criticize and pick on how they make decisions.” he spoke with a chuckle in his voice thinking back to how you’d flail your arms and drop your book to scream about how dumb some main protagnist could be.

“I'll have to buy you a copy or give you mine when I’m done.” Loki shifted his weight from his right to his left brushing your bangs out of your eyes.

“I don’t know why you keep those so long, all they do is get in the way of your gorgeous eyes.”

It was in that moment you rustled, you shifted your neck ever so slightly, Your eyelids twitch. Loki leaned forward parting his lips as he watched with a heart of hope completely overwhelmed with joy when he saw the color of your iris’s. He exhaled a shaky breath cupping your cheeks which caused you to flinch sending a wave of shocks through your body. It was at that moment you knew. You knew what he saw, what he had gone through. Your heart sank and you immediately berated yourself internally despite your exhausted state.

“It’s ok you don’t have to say or do anything. I’ll stay, I’ll take care of you for as long as you need.” Loki assured you, wanting you to know that you didn’t have to go through this alone. You never really had anyone stay, let alone worry about you. Your eyes began to water as tears rolled down your face.

“I’ll go grab you some water, you’re probably parched. I’ll also grab you a banana. I read that potassium can help with the cramping.” Loki said leaving to yourself for a moment. He also grabbed tissues for your eyes and nose just in case. Upon returning her placed everything at your side offering help to sit up. “Do you need to use the bathroom or help sitting up?” He asked with a gentle tone.

You nodded trying to take a good deep breath so you could speak a bit. “I’m so sorry you had to see that… but thank you. Thank you for staying, for helping. I do need the bathroom and I would appreciate help. My legs are still...” you mustered out with all your might but after a point your tongue refused to work with you.

“Of course, I may be a monster but I’m not entirely cruel. If it helps… you can just think to yourself and I can listen that way. So that you're not struggling too much.” Loki admitted with a tone of self depreciation.

“You're not a monster just because you're different & have made mistakes.” you thought as Loki picked you up bridal style walking you to the bathroom. Of course he placed you down on the toilet and waited outside for you to do what you needed. Since he had only added a nightgown to your previously naked body it made things easier. It was exhausting to just sit up and do everything but you pushed through. You even pushed yourself up and limped to the sink best you could to wash your hands. Upon hearing the faucet though Loki came back in standing behind you offering support if needed.

“Catch me~” you thought before falling back into his arms with a snort.

“You're lucky I have godlike reflexes you minx.” He replied with a hint of flirtation. You had used more than you had in you to wash your hand. Loki caught you obviously and carried you back to the room placing you back on the bed. “No, more like I knew you were ready to catch me.” you slowly thought as exhaustion tugged at your consciousness again. Loki noticed the pill bottle on your dresser before prompting you to take it. Instinctively opening it and sliding one into his hand.

“You should probably take this before you fall asleep.” You took it mentally saying thanks drinking the glass of water with it.

“Yeah that would probably help avoid some added breakdancing.” You joked trying to use humor to lighten the situation. Loki stared plain faced trying not to entertain your joke though, despite finding it secretly witty. Maybe he’d laugh at it when you felt a bit better. Soon after you began to dance between awake and sleep. Loki took note based on how your thoughts jumbled around between multiple things, laughing to himself a bit before minor intrusive fears began picking at you. Loki immediately jumped into action in an attempt to squash them soothing you a bit.

“You can sleep soundly, please get some rest. You don’t have to force yourself to stay awake out of fear or guilt.” Loki spoke in the most caring and sweet tone he could muster up. Trying to convince you that it was going to be ok & it worked. Somehow you knew he was right & that you could trust him completely. You drifted back to sleep peacefully thinking about how for the first time in your life, you didn’t fear sleeping in your bed. You didn’t have intrusive thoughts about whether or not you’d wake up in the morning or not. Which honestly brought tears bubbling their way up and out of Loki's eyes. The amount of trust you had in him in your thoughts, at that moment completely took his breath away. And that was something he wasn’t going to break or ever lose.

[bluefirewrites]

Another excerpt from my Fic Writer!Luke and Fanartist!Julie fic ‘Dahlia and the Duck’. From Julie’s perspective. Dedicated to all the fan artists who’ve helped bring these visions to life. Thank you for what you bring to the fandom :) 

And here’s to media that finally show us ourselves on screen. Representation is important. The JATP fandom knows that for sure. 

Julie’s mom had died a couple years ago, and that had sent her to a real...dark place.

Everything had just sounded so sour, off key, that she couldn’t even bear to touch the piano anymore, let alone even listen to music. What was the point when her mom wasn’t there to sing along?

Overall it just hurt- doing music, not doing music- it was… hard to explain.

With no music, there had been a void. Because Julie was meant to produce, meant to create something, that she knew deep down in her bones. That she was never meant to keep quiet for long, but she was still so lost.

But while sitting in the back of Mrs. Harrison’s class, watching the rest of her classmates go up and perform, she was doodling absentmindedly in the margins of her sheet music.

Nothing serious. Just some flowers, silly faces Flynn would be making in an attempt to make her smile, and, if she would ever admit this outloud, Nick’s name written in swirly and funky script that she could easily add to and make something else entirely. Just in case anyone else saw…

The months following her mom’s death had been spent in a fog, and so she was out of it in all of her classes. Nothing was holding her attention for very long and she would just keep drawing.

The doodles became more detailed and intricate. Sun’s were winking and eating ice cream,  pirates with whisks instead of hooks for hands, a chicken would be crossing the stratosphere instead of the street, in a rocket ship constructed out of corn.

It had been silly and weird and thoughtless but... happy.

She had been happy. The first break in the monotony of her grief. Something to look forward to doing and pushing even further. Her creations could not be contained to binder paper, traveling to desk surfaces, inner covers of books before jumping to her arms, up her sleeves, on her jeans- a canvas that she could wear!

Much complaining from her teachers forced Ray to buy her a good and proper sketchbook. 

From there, her art became a focus. 

She had signed up for art class after getting kicked out of the music program and it was there she found her voice again, although it hadn’t been in a way any of her friends or family were expecting though they supported her nonetheless.

There went that pressure. To be this musically gifted person that she was before. She was making her own way in art and she was starting to get used to the idea of not having music in her life anymore.

But then Madd World happened.

Flynn had been on another ‘seven-soda-bender’ and had binge-watched the episodes before getting caught up and forcing Julie to do the same.

The first thing Julie had noticed was, well, Maddox Green himself. She had recognized the actor- James Vargas. He was Puerto Rican. Just like her. And it never ceased to amaze Julie watching someone who looked like her, whose family dynamics were similar to hers, be front and center.

And hearing his character, talking passionately about following his dreams, the way he described how he felt when he played music, it had made her heart stop.

He had sounded just like mom.

Normally that revelation would have had her running for the hills, having no desire to dredge up anything having to do with her mom.

But in this case, it had been comforting. It didn’t… bother her what he was saying. It didn’t even bother her that he was singing and that most of this show was people singing. Because it felt like she was reconnecting with an old friend…

‘One Day, Someday’ had been the first song she listened to on repeat. The first song she had sung to after almost a year of silence.

Magic, she had said once.

“It’s a sign,” Flynn had told her too.

Whatever it was, it had compelled her to keep watching it.

Every Wednesday night, it was her and Flynn, huddled in front of the TV, enraptured by the storyline, committing the new songs to memory and completely fawning over Maddox and Rachel (who were definitely endgame, she didn’t care what anybody else said).

For a time, her muse had been Maddox and Rachel only. Her sketchbooks and in-class doodles were of them in different iterations. 

It had been all about perfecting the texture of Maddox’s hair, trying to nail Rachel’s dazzling smile, embodying their tender glances at one another when the thought the other one wasn’t looking…

She had been on full fangirl mode, which hadn’t happened since freshman year when she had fallen down the Once Upon A Time rabbit hole. She had been scrolling through Tumblr and AO3, consuming any fan content that she came across.

And that was how she stumbled upon mad-ducks’ fics...

Read more here on AO3

[omniscientwreck]

With Every Single Thing I Have

Beginning note: ***MAJOR SPOILERS FOR C2 E141***

CW: Character Death, Talk of Death

This is my interpretation of the canon description of Essek and Caleb’s days with some good angst thrown right in there. I have no knowledge of what is or isn’t cannon about the afterlife in Critical Role so this may be canon divergent but I needed it to cope. I hope you enjoy! Title Is Taken From The Song Two by Sleeping At Last

Caleb Widogast is dying.

He’s old, nearly 90 years of age. His body aches with every rain, stairs become more difficult, but his casting never fades. His mind is sharp and he reads, learns, and teaches until the end comes for him. Up in his tower, exhausted and bed-ridden he hears shuffling outside the door before it opens without so much as a touch and a tray of food is brought in. Essek Thelyss glides gently into the room, “Oh good, you’re awake. I prepared a light lunch for you, would you eat?”

Nodding back at the drow, the bittersweet smile that’s become a companion to him in Essek’s presence settling again into his wrinkled features. Essek sits on the bed beside him, book in hand as he often does and the memories written all over Caleb’s face come flooding back.

They had gone back to Aeor after the business in Rexxentrum concluded. Jester had helped Caleb locate Essek and when he found out he wasn’t too late, he was still at the outpost, he’d gone almost immediately. The winter clothes they’d bought all those months ago to chase their lost friend still fit and they carried many memories in them with the promise of more to come.

Their time together in Aeor was long. They took many months scouring the ruins for every book they could find. Between his Vault of Amber and Essek’s Wristpocket as well as a borrowed bag of holding they were able to collect the knowledge of Aeor. They found every device, every tiny dunamantic stone. They went back to the machine, the one that promised Caleb his dreams, closure, a chance to atone. The one that could change Essek’s past, that would give him his freedom.

Essek gazed upon the machine and he decided to remain in hiding. He looked directly at Caleb, made the decision to live forever with the consequences of his actions, because without them they wouldn’t have this. This moment, this trip, these memories.

It is Caleb’s turn now to gaze upon his destiny. He looks into the lavender eyes boring into him with the question Will you do it? His plan is perfect, the only thing that changes is that his parents are not dead and one day maybe he can reunite with them. He can see them grown old, he can tell them everything he’s done. They can be proud of him.

His mind shifts to the Nein, to Veth, Jester. To Astrid and Eodwulf. Back to Essek. It’s impossible to know what would happen if he did this. If he’d be able to come back. Is it really worth giving up everything he knows? Potentially giving up the Mighty Nein not only for himself but for them too?

He reaches into his components bag, smears dust across his forearm and with a green ray he carves away the experiment. He destroys, permanently, any hope of ever going back, in favour of hope for the future. Essek helps him burn everything and when they’re done he can only stare at the drow. The man who’s come so far, allowed himself to be so changed by the love of friends (Caleb’s love) that he went from enemy to beloved companion. He stares and divergent futures flash before his eyes as if he’s staring deep into the Luxon. They all end the same, he dies and Essek lives on without him for many years. The change is in the times in between now and then.

He knows which one he want and if the last two months were any indication Essek had his own hopes.

A week or so later, they ate in the tower. When the Nein first separated the tower had felt empty, he usually elected to sleep in a hotel room or in the dome under the stars. With Essek it’s easier to be there. They’ve fallen into a comfortable routine while researching that involves them spending the day immersed in ancient secrets forgotten to time. They would spend hours in complete silence, reading in tandem or copying runes and arcane patterns and then one of them would find something truly tantalizing and the silence would be broken as they began theorizing. When Essek gets excited his lavender eyes brighten and his whole face lifts and it’s no secret to Caleb that his heart races and his face melts into a soft, tender expression that Essek catches and matches.

After, they’ll go into the tower and eat, served warm soups and breads by little fey cats and then they read in the study in companionable silence until they retire to separate rooms. This night, a week before their time was up, Caleb’s keen mind caught up with him. Suddenly he became very aware of the passage of time, the potential futures slipping away and he rests his spoon on the table, overwhelmed by the shrinking timeline ahead.

They talk that night, instead of reading. They sit in two armchairs in a quiet carpeted room lit by purple globules of light, gently bobbing around their heads and they talk. They talk for hours. Essek tells Caleb his sins and Caleb elaborates on his own. They talk plainly and it’s hard to do, but at some point the chairs moved closer, and then their hands touched, eventually Essek’s hands were folded into Caleb’s.

He felt closer to Essek after that. For the rest of the week it was easier to reach out and grasp his hand, to pull him into a hug. Two weeks later, they talked again and after that they kissed. Their kisses weren’t frequent but they were familiar, a warm comfort over those last weeks in Aeor.

Theirs was not a whirlwind romance. It was something more precious and much more difficult to describe. It burned slow and and steadily rose until something had to be done. They kept in close contact after Aeor, it is those letters that begin the new collection that fills Caleb’s left holster.

They visit occasionally until the burn of the eyes of the Dynasty on Essek’s back became too hot. Caleb has taken to staying in Nicodranas when he and Beauregard are taking a break from dismantling centuries old systems to weed out the rot so he asks Essek to come stay with him. Quietly, out of the eyes of the empire and most of their friends, they begin to build a life. They construct with care, laying a sturdy foundation because though they both know this arrangement is temporary they promise to always be together in one way or another; because though gravity can be altered, it always rights itself and the pull Caleb feels towards Essek, has felt for some time, is a law of his nature.

They allow themselves as long as the other will have them and they spend years together. The kisses become more frequent as they gradually abandon inhibitions. Caleb’s life is a blink compared to Essek and he becomes more aware each year of the limited time he has. He and Essek stay together in varying locations for as long as he can bear it, he realizes now that they have earned this happiness, however fleeting. It will always be a larger portion of his life than it will be of Essek’s so he holds out as long as he can. He begins to teach in this time and though Essek cannot really be free he still has his work studying their findings and occasionally he travels.

Caleb watches him advance so much in their decade together and he gets bleary eyed imagining all Essek will do when he’s gone. They learn together, share every meal, he learns Undercommon and teaches Zemnian, and they spend every possible night together in every possible way. They share a sweet and intense passion and Caleb’s love sinks deeper and deeper into his heart.

When his forehead wrinkles and his hair is greying he realizes his time is up. He has goals, he needs to teach, he needs to fully commit to being in the Empire and his short life must be spent doing as he promised all those years ago, making each place better than he found it. That is the hardest conversation he’s ever had. “I wish it were not this way. That it didn’t have to be, but I do not have as much time as you so I must burn brightly to make my impact. I will always love you Essek Thelyss.”

“And I you Caleb Widogast. When you stumbled into my life all those years ago, Empire infiltrator holding my greatest crime in your hand I had no idea what would happen. You were a variable I did not account for, could never have foreseen. Of all the possible futures in store for me this one, where I am here with you, where I have been here with you for ten years and where I will continue to be by your side thought it is not the same is the best one I could have never predicted.”

They give themselves one last year. They don’t travel, Caleb takes the year off and they spend 328 days exactly together, in bliss. They do their best not to allow the apprehension of good-bye to creep in. Caleb knows it’s not good-bye, not truly and not forever. But when the day comes though he tries to hold it back he cries bitter tears and holds Essek tight and the smaller man shakes with his own sobs. But they loved each other for eleven years, and they manage to continue loving each other for another fourty or so.

Essek leaves and travels for a while to do his own work. This is frequent in the latter half of Caleb’s life but every time he comes back and his friend brings him stories and listens to all of his own. They help each other research, Caleb still tells him everything and relishes every moment they spend together. They no longer kiss but they are still partners.

Caleb’s life has been better, more fulfilling than he could ever have hoped stumbling out of that wretched prison at the beginning of his second life. He learned peace through the Nein and later through Essek and now that he’s at the end of his time he knows he could not have lived a better life.

Caleb Widogast is old, older than he ever thought he’d be and while his bones and muscles give out and he goes to the Blooming Grove where Caduceus has always said he will end up, to spend his final months, Essek follows.

He cooks the soups the cats used to, they remember everything together, Caleb’s mind keen but Essek has kept up well. At just the right time, Caleb knows. Essek is sat beside him in the bed, the wizards reading in tandem as they’ve done before and fallen into again in this late stage. They have been kissing again, Caleb allowing this last indulgence, one last selfish act. Essek needs it too.

“Essek Thelyss, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. My constant companion, the center of my gravity. You who bent time and space for me and taught me so many things from magic to forgiveness. I have loved you all my life from the moment I could and I would never dream to change a single thing.”

“Caleb Widogast. I have treasured every moment we have spent together, you changed my life, saved a man who knew not that he was dying. I have been happy because I know you and I will continue to be happy because you will never be far from my heart.”

“Please promise to me that you will take care of the others. Allow them to care for you. Find new people and care for them and allow yourself to be cared for in return, live your life as fully as you are able, and when you are done I will see you again just as I am about to see my family.”

“I will. You have loved me all of your life and I will love you for all of mine. I will never know someone like you again. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of your companionship. It is an honor to love you and it always will be.”

The quiet conversation fades and they share one final kiss and Essek sits as Caleb drifts to sleep, gently running his fingers through his hair. Then he goes to get Caduceus. Caleb Widogast is dead.

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

Essek Thelyss is dying.

He is nearly 740 years old and he is in decline. He, like his friends before him, retires to the Blooming Grove to live out his remaining days, however many they might be. Caduceus’ kin are caring and when he shows up on their doorstep they expect him. “He told us you would arrive one day. Welcome home and thank you for being here.”

Essek’s life has been a thing of remarkable chance, nearly improbable. He has learned to manipulate as much as he can but even he could not have foreseen the path he ended up taking. He has lived so long, and his life has been full but he is tired.

Fjord had been the first of the Nein to pass. After him Caleb. After Caleb the group coalesced around him. They had never shared many details, but they seemed to know. Keeping his promise to Caleb he allowed them to care for him. To bring him food, to message him to make sure he was okay. They invited him on adventures when they needed and he never turned them down.

They continued asking him to teleport them and every single time he did. Kingsley goes next and then Beauregard. Those years are full of so much loss condensed into such a tiny portion of his existence. He isn’t used to things happening so quickly and he begins to reach out. New connections. He finds people to care for, to mentor and to bolster. He dedicates his life to using aliases to research and study and publish materials to help the mages after him and Caleb. He finds himself beseeched by parties of assholes for assistance and while he never fights alongside another group he makes himself useful in any other way in his ability.

He always imparts the lesson to leave the world better than they found it, and if they listen, if they are the same as his friends, the best people he’s ever known, the world will survive yet. There is a pause between good-byes for a number of years. Then he loses Yasha and Jester. Jester is one of the hardest, the friendly little blue tiefling with a heart for adventure who hugged him when touch had still burned. After her goes Veth and after Veth, finally Caduceus goes back to the earth.

He promised Caleb to live a full life, but every year, the anniversary of the day they met several lifetimes ago, he visits the Blooming Grove. He walks the grounds, he sits with Caleb and he tells him of his research, he reminisces and he whispers love to the flowers that grow. They are fiery orange and yellow with some deep purple and blue spattered among them. Caduceus says on his first visit that the blue ones are called forget-me-nots. Essek picks one every year and presses it into a book, like Yasha showed him once upon a time.

Caduceus and Essek drink the tea from the flowers Caleb gave them. For centuries they sat together, telling stories, having extended conversation year after year. Some years Caduceus travelled so Essek made his vigil alone, but he never forgot Caleb and he never forgot the Mighty Nein. They lived as long as he did for they were in his heart always.

The last time he visits Caleb they talk for hours. “Every good thing I have done, every positive emotion and happiness I have known in these centuries has been because of you. You allowed me to feel again and the best decision I could have ever made was letting my plan go to allow myself to grow close to you.”

He is lying beside the grave twirling a delicate blue flower between wrinkled, aching fingers. “Caleb Widowgast you have lived with me for a long while and I thank you again for the gifts you gave me while you were here. I hope you are proud of me. I love you to the end of my days my friend.”

He falls asleep then, in the night of the Blooming Grove, fireflies and an infinite expanse of stars casting gentle light across his stilling form.

As Essek Thelyss fades he finds himself again in a garden. It is brightly coloured and lush, well cared for. There is a small cottage there and as he glides to the door, drawn to it as if by gravity, it opens and he sees copper hair, vibrant blue eyes, and the widest smile he’s missed the most, “I told you my friend, we would meet again.”

“I never doubted you Caleb Widogast.”