#considering she’s written every song ever at midnight

[girlgenius1111]

don't let this darkness fool you

arsenal x young reader [platonic]

part 1 of 2?

cw for intense descriptions of depression and suicidal ideation. this is a really heavy one, so please don't read if you don't think you should. there are other fics, and reading this one isn't as important as you being okay <3

loosely based on the songs call your mom and growing sideways by noah kahan

- - - - -

There was a song lyric that had resonated with you since you'd heard it. It rattled around in your brain on bad days. Days like today.

"It's better to die numb than feel it all"

You thought of it now, as you sat, staring hard at the pill bottle in front of you. Your chest ached, deep within you. It was suffocating, feeling everything. You'd been fighting, gasping for air, for so long. The way out, the way to numbness, to freedom, was sitting right in front of you. All you had to do was take the pills.

Google told you it would be enough. That by the time anyone thought to check, it would be too late. You'd scrolled past the suicide hotline number to read the information. It hadn't even been an option to call it. If you were going to call anyone, it would be one of your teammates.

Not your family. It all came back to them, in the end. Every insecurity and fear you had trailed back through your past, to the people that had raised you. No, that was wrong. You'd raised yourself. They'd brought you into the world, but hadn't bothered themselves with making your world a place worth existing in. Too busy drinking, fighting, making each other miserable.

Briefly, you wondered if they would feel guilty when they heard. You supposed they would. It wasn't enough, though, retroactive guilt. They couldn't undue what they'd caused. Even if they stood in front of you, begged you to stay, you were sure their words would have little effect on you.

Your mind flashed to your real family, your team. The thought of them did fill you with guilt. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and you shut your eyes tightly, fighting back against the images of their faces when they heard.

You could make your peace with most of it, honestly. The only thing that you didn't think you could deal with, though, was them blaming themselves. You knew they would, that was the kind of people they were. A note wouldn't be enough, you decided. Written words wouldn't be as convincing as your voice, promising that it wasn't their fault.

Looking back, you would wonder if you were ever really going to do it. Calling Beth like that, you had to have considered that she'd answer. the only thing you could come up with was that you didn't really want to die, not really. You wanted help, and you didn't know how to ask for it, weren't sure if you'd be able to.

Regardless, you dialed Beth's number, deciding on her because you knew she went to bed early. In was only midnight, and if you called anyone else, there was a chance they'd still be awake. You should have known Beth would sleep with her ringer on, though. It was the kind of thing she'd do, always concerned with the people around her, always reminding them to reach out if they needed her.

When she answered, you were frozen, not sure what to say. A part of you wanted to hang up, take the pills as fast as you could. The other wanted to cry, beg for help. The second part was just so tired; you stayed silent.

"Hello? Y/n, are you there?"

You must have made a sound, because Beth's voice lost it's sleepy tint, and she seemed much more awake.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

"No," you responded, all but forcing the word out of your lips. It was amazing, how she could tell that something was wrong, from so little information.

"What's going on, kiddo?" she asked kindly. It made tears prick your eyes. It had been a while since you had cried, and you were surprised. You weren't really sure how to answer her, though, the one word you'd uttered having been hard enough as it was.

"Y/n, honey, what's going on?" Beth asked again, and you heard Viv's voice faintly from the background, asking for the phone. There was some shuffling, and then Viv's firm voice was hitting your ear.

"Y/n, I need you to tell me what's happening," Viv demanded. She was smart- you didn't need soft right now. You needed someone to tell you exactly what to do, not ask.

"I'm not okay," you managed. You realized you were shaking, your teeth chattering over every word. "I need help."

Viv pulled the phone away from her ear, speaking to Beth before answering you. You don't know if she meant for you to hear or not.

"Call Leah, call Katie, they both live over there. Tell them to get to y/n's as soon as possible." The Dutch woman pulled the phone back to her ear then. "Y/n, Beth and I are coming to you. We're gonna help you, okay?"

"Okay," you replied softly. You were surprised, when the only thing you felt was relief.

"You're at home, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me if you're safe, physically?"

"I'm not hurt. I haven't taken anything yet," you tell her, mind too jumbled to realize you'd said yet.

"What do you have in front of you?" she asked, her tone returning the the firm one from before. You told her, reading the long name off the bottle. You heard Beth curse from next to her, speaking faster and more frantically into her own phone.

"Don't move, y/n. Stay right there, Leah is going to be there in just a minute."

Sure enough, your attention was pulled away from the phone, really from the bottle in front of you, but whatever, when your door unlocked. Leah had a key. You'd forgotten. Her eyes were wild when she rushed in, searching for you. She was wearing her pajamas, and you realized Beth had probably woken her. Somewhere in your brain, you considered making a joke about the Arsenal pajama pants she was wearing, but you realized you had lost the ability to speak. Leah had arrived fast, though, even though she lived only a few minutes walk from you. She must have run.

"Hey, buddy," Leah said cautiously, and you heard 2 sighs of relief at Leah's voice over the phone. You sat, unmoving, as Leah approached you, taking the bottle off the table where it sat, and carried it into the kitchen, still in sight of you. She unscrewed the cap, and you watched as she dumped the bottle down the drain, running the water to ensure every little pill floated away, out of your reach.

Again, you only felt relief.

Leah returned, taking a seat next to you, and grabbing the phone out of your tight grip. You weren't really paying attention to her, lost in your head, but the soft words she spoke to Beth and Viv calmed you, if only slightly.

Someone's hand was on your knee, and you turned your head to see Katie kneeling next to you. You weren't sure when she'd arrived.

Your body felt like it was caving in on itself; something about Katie's expression, filled with so much fear, forced you to see the reality of what had happened, how close you'd come. Maybe that should have been the scariest thing, but it wasn't. Instead, you thought about how your teammates knew now. There was no excuse you could give that would explain what had happened tonight. It was a horrifying realization; that you couldn't hide how bad it was anymore.

Katie was speaking to you, her lips were moving, but you couldn't process what she was saying. It was like the volume in the room had been turned down, and the sound of your blood pulsing in your ears was all you could hear. You forced yourself to move, to do anything, and your shaking hand covered hers, gripping tightly.

It was all you could manage, really. Somehow, Katie knew what you needed. She moved to sit on your other side, wrapping her strong arms around your body, pulling you into her. You went limply, allowing yourself to collapse into her. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to think. You wanted to be anywhere else.

All of a sudden, you wished you'd done it. When you opened your eyes, you'd have to face it. Fight it. You'd been trying, and you knew your friends wouldn't allow you to stop. You'd missed your chance, and a part of you felt like it was shattering at the idea of having to keep going.

Hands were cupping your face, encouraging you to open your eyes. You complied, tears falling rapidly once you did. Katie was looking at you, and you could kind of hear her again, telling you to breathe. You hadn't realized you had been holding your breath. You inhaled a shuddering breath, before exhaling.

"One breath at a time, y/n, come on," Katie was saying. At her prompting, you breathed in again, hands clenching into fists as you stumbled to your feet. You weren't sure where you were going, you just needed to go. Katie and Leah were standing too, looking panicked, and Katie grabbed your wrist as you tried to head for the door. You wrenched free, stumbling on unsteady legs towards the door. Realistically, Leah and Katie would have stopped you.

They didn't need to. In through the door you were approaching came Beth and Viv. Your exit was blocked, even though you weren't really sure why you were trying to leave. It was like some part of your brain thought if you removed yourself from the situation, the feelings would fade. Instead, you fell to your knees, hands wrapping around your own abdomen, like you were trying to hold yourself together.

You didn't have the energy to hold yourself up anymore, evidently, because you were falling forward, and someone was catching you. You weren't sure you'd taken a breath since Katie had last reminded you to, because the world around you was closing in, blackening along the edges, and then there was nothing.

-----

You became aware of a soft hand pushing hair back from your forehead first. The cushions of your couch under you. Your friends were talking amongst themselves, about you it seemed. You were calmer now, thank god. You could breath again, and your brain had returned to it's regular state; somewhere between depressed and agonized, but nowhere near where you'd been minutes ago.

"Did she say if something happened?" you heard Katie ask, accent thicker than normal.

"No, she didn't say anything, really. Just that she wasn't okay, and that she needed help." Beth responded, her voice much closer to you. The hand on your head must have been hers.

Both of your teammates sounded anxious, so you forced your eyes open blinking up at Beth's face above you.

"Hey, kid," she said, her hand not stopping the motions on your forehead.

"Hi," you replied, voice all scratchy. You moved to sit up, swinging your feet to rest on the ground instead of where they lay in Leah's lap. it was quiet in the room, and you hated how all of them looked at you so apprehensively. You'd never liked when people worried about you, and this wasn't any different.

Wordlessly, Viv handed you a glass of water, and you took it, gulping it down because you were thirsty, and also because you weren't really sure what to say.

"What happened?" Leah asked softly. You dropped your eyes to the floor. Lying wouldn't do anything, you knew that. Still, the impulse to push them out was there.

"I don't know," you replied, somewhat honestly. Your tone reflected your feelings, though, and Beth sighed next to you, sensing you trying to force your walls back up.

"That's not going to work, y/n," Katie said. You looked up, then, meeting everyone's eyes. There was a determination there.

"I really don't know," you repeated, but you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, before speaking again. "Nothing happened, I was just tired. I'm really tired."

They nodded in understanding. They knew what tired meant in this context. Not the kind that sleep could fix, though you tried. The kind that sunk into you, gripped your soul in it's tight fist, and squeezed. Until you barely had the energy to move. Until all you could think about was doing what you'd almost done.

"You need help." Beth stated, almost like she was expecting a fight from you on it. She was surprised, then, when you nodded in response.

"I know," you paused. "I'm sorry."

You were apologizing for a lot; for acting miserable in the past few months. For ruining their respective nights. For being so difficult. A part of you was also apologizing that you'd called at all. Wouldn't it have been easier, so much easier, if you'd just done it?

"Don't say sorry. You called, you asked for help. That's all that really matters." Leah told you.

You recognized that maybe it wouldn't have been easier for them. Giving up was perhaps easier than trying to get better; for you at least. Right now. For them, though, they'd rather help you, a thousand times over, than lose you.

And help you, they would.

-----

honestly not really sure about the ending of this? feel like there could be a part 2 if you guys wanted, so i left it open for that if people are interested

also. writing this was a lot. reading it is probably a lot too. hope it serves as a reminder that there are people that need you, and the world is better with you in it. i know it doesn't always feel like it, but what you're feeling is temporary. it will get better.

[casuallivi]

The Midnight Kiss

Summary:  When your future boyfriend appears with a girlfriend, that is not you, there’s nothing you can do but date her ex, right?...Right?

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 1: Feeling like general Dan in that one scene from Forest Gump

The expression “this party turned into a funeral” never made more sense to Elain than now.

“This is my girlfriend, Morrigan.” He announced with a satisfied grin, a possessive arm draped around Morrigan’s waist.

Pharrell Williams’ Happy blasted on the background, Nuala singing along awfully off pitch. Her choice of song would have been terribly funny had Elain not been feeling the floor swaying under her feet. The man cleared his throat oddly, and Elain realized she had not reacted to the news. It cost everything she had to get herself moving, to reach for the woman's stretched hand and say, “Nice to meet you.”

The words tasted sour in her tongue, bile threatening to rise up as the gorgeous blonde with blood red lips and killer features spoke, probably greeting her back, but Elain could not hear a word she was saying, the sound of her own heart shattering clogging her ears.

He got a girlfriend.

Cassian Marino, her handsome Greek god of a boss –actually, he was her boss’s boss– who she had a crush on since joining her new company, who had a playboy reputation, who was the biggest one-night-stand-only enthusiast she had ever met, who was extremely anti-dating, who ‘would not be caught dead with a girlfriend’ –his words, not hers– was now proudly calling a woman, who was not Elain, his girlfriend.

Elain eyed the woman Cassian called Morrigan, cataloging everything about her, from her perfect posture and educated manners to the gorgeous dress outlining her perfect body. Morrigan’s translucent pearl dress shimmed over her curves ending just above her ass, toned bronzed legs ending in high heels so thin she could use them as needles, impeccable pin straight beach blonde strands pulled over her left shoulder. A sense of familiarity downed on her, brown eyes nearly popping of their sockets when she connected the dots. It was her. His girlfriend was the model selected for last month's pictorial.

Beside her, Cassian shined simple by being his usual smiley handsome self, dressed in casual tee, cargo and flip flops combo, tying his shoulder-length hair back, the act highlighting every curve of his biceps and strong pectoral. He kissed the blonde’s neck and Elain turned back, beginning to remove her silly accessories.

She pushed the silly glittered glasses spelling 2022 inside the back pocket of her shorts –which where currently hidden under an even sillier pink tutu she found on the fantasy box. Why was it, that the model was the one overdressed to a casual party, and yet, somehow, Elain was the one who ended up feeling out of place? It was a karaoke party on Cerridwen’s backyard, for crying out loud! Why this one had to dress like a star attending the Grammys?

Elain considered herself a person with great self-esteem and a high sense of value, not once feeling jealous of the numerous models she photographed for the magazine in the last year. They were all gorgeous women with killer bodies that came out stunning after passing through her lenses, but Elain loved herself and admired her non-model curves all the same. Tonight was different. Tonight, she felt jealous of a model for the first time, cursing herself for not doing those daily squats to grow her butt a little as she said she would on her last year’s resolution…

“Hey, we match.” Cassian’s jolly voice reached her as he tugged his tee.

“Yeah,” Elain laughed awkwardly, hands quickly working to remove the bright red clown nose from her face. ’How fitting’. She thought bitterly.

On the front of her tee, there where two cartoonish sunflowers wearing sunglasses and hi-fiving, the phrase, “hey there, bud!”, written underneath; a twin to the one she gifted him on Secret Santa. On the rare occasions he appeared on the shooting site he made her thrilled. They formed a friendship based on the bad habit of exchanging terrible puns, making lots of inappropriate jokes. Elain thought they were closer than a priest and a choir boy backstage, so she purposefully ordered them matching white tees, knowing he would be tempted to use it on New Year’s Eve; the same day she intended to confess her feelings. Damn it.

His comment earned Morrigan’s attention, who looked at Elain with new interest, while the photographer was distracted, trying to pin a similarity between the two of them. They both had brown eyes and that was it. The problem was Elain’s turned terribly dull and extremely boring putting side by side with Morrigan’s shimmering ember ones. Elain wanted to groan. Life was bitch.

“I’m thirsty.” The model said, running a hand over Cassian’s chest.

“Come on, let’s grab you a drink.”

The couple bid her a quick farewell, Elain pouting as Cassian tow his girlfriend toward other party member, proudly presenting her to every single one of their coworkers and friends. She forced herself to stop watching, marching to the temporary stage, searching for fantasy box with more colorful accessories. Imaging dozens of fake scenarios where she was the one in his arms, she shimmed out of the pink tutu, throwing it inside with a little more strength than necessary, the box nearly tipping to the side.

“Let’s sing ABBA!” Nuala screeched, materializing behind her, beer slouching in Elain’s arms as she was swayed form side to side.

“Later. I need to go to the bathroom.” Elain tapped her friend and slipped away.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.” Then she turned back and pointed at a man. “You! Let’s sing ABBA!”

Right now Elain didn’t give a flying carrot about ABBA, her mind busy replaying the same scene over and over again.

This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan.

She moved across the synthetic grass with robotic steps, sliding inside the house and finding the bathroom with pure muscle memory. Elain stared at her distressed image in the mirror, face flushed from dancing, golden glitter sparkling across her nose and cheeks, braid disheveled from the earlier singing session. Oh my god, she greeted Cassian’s hot girlfriend looking like a toddler high on sugar. Elain stuck her finger in her hair and pulled hard, groaning at her own inability to sit quiet and enjoy a gathering like a composed adult. Nooo, she just had to give into the karaoke and do a crazy redemption of “I Will Survive” because Nuala dared her to do it.

This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan.

 On her tiptoes she reached for the upper cabinet, searching blindly for the facial soap, working to remove the glitter with the help of cold water, then she moved to undo the braid, trying look a little more presentable. As she worked to untangle the hair, her anger was redirected from the model for being hot, to Cassian for being an ass and getting a girlfriend.

He said he didn't do girlfriends!

“Don’t do girlfriend my ass.”

Someone pounded on the door.

“Coming!”

Elain practiced an unbothered expression and a happy smile two more times and opened the door, a drunk girl darting by her straight to the toilet. Taking deep breaths she returned to the garden, choosing one of the jumble beanbags to sit on. Elain tried not to look at the couple, she really did, but her eyes kept betraying her and tracking everything they did. God, it was like she was a glutton for punishment.

“You are staring.”

He dropped himself beside her without ceremony, the sudden movement undulating the beanbag, Elain bracing herself on his leg by reflex. Damn, his thigh was solid as a rock. Elain collected her hand quickly, discreetly trying to put space between them.

Azriel sipped his drink side-eyeing her tee, then Cassian’s, judgment all over his usually stoic face.

“Planned a little number, I see.”

“It was a coincidence.” She denied a little too fast, blushing for getting caught.

Elain and the Managing Editor had never really clicked, Azriel getting on her nerves since the first day with his stoic expression and crude orders. Just because he was her boss didn’t mean he get to order her around all the time… well, it did, but he didn’t have to be so obnoxious about it. Most of her previous jobs where freelancer gigs, making Elain used to a certain degree of liberty that was brutally ripped from her hands once she signed an exclusivity contract with Marinos, Azriel being the responsible for destroying her old habits and put her line.

Elain usually did her best to hide her dislike for the he-devil who tormented her working days. She was actually surprise to see him here. Never in her wildest imagination she would picture their soulless manager hanging with his subordinates in a karaoke party on the last day of the year. He had never attendant one of the gathering she went to, all work and no play this one. Sometimes she wondered if he had a single fun bone in his body… probably not. Maybe he had no friends to hang out with. Knowing his terrible personality, that’s was probably the answer. She fought hard to control her evil smile.

Azriel’s short midnight hair was combed back, suit pants without a wrinkle in sight, freshly shined shoes matching the black button down with sleeves rolled to his elbows – the man was wearing all black, for New Year’s Eve. Gee. Elain scrunched her nose; he was the farthest thing from her type in this place. She liked her man carefree, with long hair and lewd jokes.

"Ten minutes for midnight, guys!" Cassian's voice boomed, then he kissed Morrigan red lips, making Elain’s stomach churn with jealousy.

It could have been her getting kisses and being adored by him. It should have been her. Sighing, she turned to ask Azriel what he wanted, only to catch him observing the same pair, hazel eyes flickering with the same emotion Elain had been trying to hide the whole night.

“Do you know her?” Her big fat mouth worked faster than her brain. She was curious about the look he was giving the couple, but she knew better than to try to start a conversation with Azriel.

“She modeled for us last month.” He spoke to her as if she was dumb.

See? This is why she didn't talk to him outside work.

“I meant before that. Did you already know her?”

“This industry isn’t really that big, Archeron.”

His sarcasm was not enough to hide the hint of emotional coming to light; annoyance, irritation, and deflection. Her senses prickled. My, my, would you look at that. He was totally deflecting.

“You're friends?” she probed.

“No.” This time his answer came with a harsh bite to it. “We are not friends.”

“You like her.” She decided triumphantly, a Cheshire’s smile stretching in her lips.

“I Like her,” he mocked her tone, making a hideous face. “What’s this? Seventh grade?”

“Oh, don’t patronize me, you know what I mean.”

“You mean like you ‘like’ my brother?” He emphasized the word like with a taunting end to it, whipping her smile.

"I don’t – what – I’m not – what,”

Elain tried to save her face, but Azriel only sneered at her mumbling, sipping his drink.

“Was I obvious?” she asked after a beat of silence.

“Painfully.”

“Ohmygod.” She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Someone, please, open a hole and bury her in the earth, now.

“My brother is used to women swooning over him.”

“God, that makes it worse.”

“Relax. You’ll survive.” He mocked a tune, winking at her, making allusion to the music she sang earlier.

Wait a minute. Did Azriel Marino make a joke? What was going on? And why was he sitting here in the first place? Talking to her about non-work-related things, which he never did before? Clarity hit her like a truck. Jealousy. He must have recognized her jealousy, seeing the woman he was interested in the arms of another, his brother nonetheless. Empathy flooded inside her. People were the same when their hearts were broken.

“It’s fine, it was just a crush.” No, it wasn’t. She had been into him for a year. “I just have to like someone else, someone available for starts. Hey, that’s a good New Year’s resolution. Date someone who can take Cassian out of my mind!” Elain laughed nervously.

Just then Nuala passed by with hands full of small tubes containing confetti. She handed one to Elain and one to Azriel, blowing a plastic whistle on their faces.

“You surprise me Archeron. I didn’t know you can turn your feelings off that easily.” He commented when she was gone.

“I can’t, but I have to begin somewhere.”

Azriel only looked forward, Morrigan catching his eyes briefly, offering him a friendly smile as if she had not been in his bed the night before. He doesn't smile back. He can't bring himself to pretend his happy for this new development. Putting a green hat on his brother was not one of his proudest moment, but Azriel had always had difficulty in saying no to the pretty blonde dangling from Cassian’s arm. Ten years. Ten years he stayed in her call back and forth.

“I’m not ready for a relationship yet.”

“I finally booked my first runaway.”

“I need to focus on my career first.”

“You know I’m not seeing him anymore; what does it matter how we call ourselves if we are exclusive again?”

“I finally booked my first cover.”

Morrigan always had a new milestone to achieve, a new tittle to conquer. Azriel understood her, she was a career-driven woman, and he was really proud of her for everything she conquered, but he was also tired, so fucking tired of being played. Azriel truly loved one woman his entire life, a woman who said she loved him as well... Just not more than her career.

That’s why they broke up for the last time. He had enough when she was photographed with another man, this time in a cozy diner in Spain, her companion an indie movie director.

“That's sensationalism, you know that right? I was not in a date with this man. He offered me a role in his movie, acting Az! Can you imagine that, me as an actress?”

He said he was happy for her, but he did not want to continue in this relationship anymore.

“Are you breaking up with me?” She sobbed with tearful eyes.

“How can I break up with you if we never in a relationship?"

She cried and begged and promise to compromise. Azriel believed none of it, they had danced that same dance one too many times for him to have any faith. It was relationship doomed to end.

Now he was here, in a party he would not have attended in normal circumstances, guilty churn in his stomach. Maybe he should tell Cass about last night. Azriel saw Morrigan for the first time again a month ago when she was casted to appear in the cover of Marinos. He also saw the way his brother’s eyes lit up looking at her, heard all about his instant infatuation, about his Christmas proposal, about her saying yes to be his girlfriend, a yes, she never gave Azriel. He could solemn blame the excessive drinking for opening the door to her, letting her in. Deep down he knew whose fault it was.

His fault.

He was an idiot. And a idiot who blabbed when drunk. For fuck sakes, in a few minutes of conversation he practically admitted his feelings for his brother’s girlfriend to the woman who he had done nothing but fight in the last year.

Elain Archeron was a great photographer, a little green for the fashion industry, but her quick wit and capacity to adapt had taken the magazine quality to another level. She didn’t know this, but Azriel was the one who suggested his brother signed an exclusivity contract, despite their first Collab being a horror show. At the time they had hired her for a freelancer job, their photographer was in the hospital and they needed to reshoot the cover asap. Nuala, from advertisement, said she had a friend available, and so Azriel meet Elain. Her style was different from their usual, her creative process clashing with Azriel’s style and his aptitude to stick to the pre-established program. Elain was freestyler. He hated freestyle.

They clashed hard, so hard he screamed at her to do her job right, she screamed at him to take the stick out of his ass, and Nuala paled, thinking she would lose her job for recommending an explosive substitute. In the end Azriel ended up with a winter cover that went viral online, increasing their sales by 2,5%. Elain Archeron was a nasty thing with unruly hair and a questionable amount of overalls, but she did her job right. He could respect that. Azriel liked passionate people - even when they were crazy freestylers.

“You should do the same, you know.” Elain proposed, twisting the miniature confetti tube. “Why do they get to be all happy while we sit here mopping? No, no. Let’s break free from these chains of love.”

Elain stood up, making a victory fist. Her resolution was ready! She had a good job now, a stable job, she just needed to stop pinning for her unavailable boss, preferably by finding a boyfriend who loved her very, very, much, and everything would be perfect. Her new fantasies of world domination were shattered by Azriel’s throaty laughter.

He actually laughed at her. How dare him.

“I’m being serious.”

“Sure.” Azriel said.

“I am! Stay there pinning for you crush if you want, but I will find myself a lover.”

“A lover?”

“A lover.”

“Oh, and pray tell how you intent to do that?”

Elain paused. Good question. How did she intended to do that?

“One minute for midnight!” Someone yelled, lighting a lamp in her brain.

Every good New Year’s resolution starts at midnight. Elain sat again, smirking at Azriel.

"When the clock strike midnight, I'll leave this old pinning Elain behind and make out with the first man that looks my way." She announced puffing her chest.

"And how would that work exactly? You think you'll fall in love with the first guy you kiss after spending years pinning from my brother?"

Years? Elain frowned. She had only known Cassian for a year. Besides, his words sound a little too harsh and bitter for her taste.

"I don't know.” She said carefully. “Maybe, maybe not. But it will be a start. I have to start somewhere. You can’t expect to change your life doing the same thing you always did.”

Silence stretched between them, but Elain’s attention was snagged to the ‘ten seconds before midnight’ counting starting.

[…]

Three,

Two,

“Okay.” Azriel said quietly as the counting reached ‘one’.

Fireworks, confetti, cheers, and wishes of “happy new year” exploded everywhere, yet Elain didn’t feel festive at all. As she watched Cassian deep his girlfriend and give her a sinful kiss, Elain felt more like general Dan in that one scene from Forest Gump; frozen in perpetual agony while everyone else celebrated around her. Was this what torture felt like?

Elain was so busy drowning in self-pity she didn’t notice Azriel's decision until it was too late, a decision that would change both their lives forever, because he went and did the most unbelievable and inexplicable thing in the story of the universe. Azriel, the man who she constantly butted head with, placed both hands on her face and planted a kiss on her lips.

[jewishbarbies]

maybe she could've rewritten them and adjusted for a newer writing style and recorded them

I have a hot take on this one, I've never read any opinion similar to mine on this topic but I need to share it with someone else at this point: I don't believe that the "from the vault" tracks were written at the time of these albums at all. I used to be a super devoted brainwashed Swiftie until a few years ago and I basically know by memory everything she's written before Lover, and ever since Red TV came out and I read the lyrics of the vault tracks I convinced myself that she wrote at least 80% of them right before the re-release. There are some similarities with older songs in themes and lyrics but at the same time there are quite a lot of wording choices that she used with her most recent albums but not with the older ones and it all really feels to me like an attempt to emulate her older style with questionable results.

And I'm also convinced (and this is a hill I'm willing to die on anytime) that All Too Well 10MV was not written at the time, or at least not the way she put it out. Like, if you listen to that outro that has zero coherence with the rest of the song and seems like a cut-and-paste from another song, you can her the difference in melody, themes and also the writing style has very little to do with the rest of it. My theory is that the part from minute 7:20 was added on the re-recording only to 1) add more details to her always-the-victim narrative in a way that is more compliant to today's issues since people actually started to call out all the inappropriate age gap relationships between celebrities only recently, and 2) give the fans what they asked for for years hoping for a record-breaking release for the single despite the "original version was like 10 minutes long" thing being just an hyperbole of some kind.

But no matter if I'm right or not, most of them completely suck. I read rumors here and there that she added more songs to the re-recordings so she could push those versions of the albums for new awards and honestly I think that was exactly the case here. Every singer has unreleased songs, I just don't think that the ones she put out so far are the real ones considering the unreleased songs the world already knew existed before this messy re-recording situation sound completely different.

honestly I’ve heard people theorize about that and it would not surprise me if she just wrote new songs and called them old, because it makes it more emotional for devoted swifties and they’ll wanna buy more albums. I heard some bizarre thing about her record sales for midnights being like the largest sales for an album after release and like. she’s put out a dozen different versions AND she puts a digital album saw with each merch purchase. obviously the sale are going to be inflated like hell. but then with the re releases she can say that’s it’s because of these extra songs and people “supporting her over scooter”. it’s ridiculous.

[pvffinsdaisies]

Hetalia ships as songs from Taylor Swift’s Midnights

LAVENDER HAZE: PruHun

“I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me, so real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say. No deal, that 1950s shit they want from me. I just wanna stay in that lavender haze.”

A song about staying in a little love bubble despite what other people may say about you or your relationship. Dodging negative and/or weird opinions and you and your partner, and not caring because you are so in love. I just think lyrics like “you don’t really read into my melancholia” “no deal, that 1950s shit they want from me” and “they’re bringing up my history, but you aren’t even listening.” Just fit PruHun so well.

MAROON: SuDen

“The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was the mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon.”

Obviously, I had to choose a Denmark ship for a song that references many different shades of red. A song about a relationships that was fun and joyful and exciting, that was destroyed from constant fighting. My personal take on the lyric “so scarlet, it was maroon” is that Taylor WANTS to remember the love as a bright red, happy, joyful and fun, but then she realised it was much darker than that. I just think this fits with SuDen so well considering how many wars they’ve had. Just the entire second verse, “when the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy. How the hell did we lose sight of us again? Sobbin with your head in your hands, ain’t that the way shit always ends? You’re standing hallow-eyed in the hallway, carnations you had thought were roses, that’s us. I feel you no matter what, the rubies that I gave up.” Screams SuDen to me.

SNOW ON THE BEACH: EngNor

“And it was like snow on the beach; weird but fucking beautiful. Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful, you wanting me. Tonight feels impossible, but it’s coming down, no sound, it’s all around like snow on the beach.”

What better ship for a song all about a love so pure and strange it feels magical than EngNor? Basically THE magic ship of hetalia. Especially considering the song starts out on a more pessimistic note with the first verse saying, “life is emotionally abusive, and time can’t stop me quite like you did, and my flight was awful, thanks for for asking. I’m unglued thanks to you.” I think it’s just very england. Not to even mention the line “this scene feels like what I once saw on a screen, I searched Aurora Borealis green.” This song was, quite frankly, just written for EngNor.

MIDNIGHT RAIN: DenNor

“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain. He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain. He wanted a bride, I was making my own name, chasing that fame. He stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight rain.”

Whilst I do not want to be dismissive of Norway’s need for independence, this song just fits DenNor too perfectly. A song about looking back on your past relationship and realising how good of a partner your ex was and missing them. The description of the ex being a sunshine, and having only positive words to say about them, and Norway being the midnight rain. I think DenNor will always be the best example of a sun and moon ship in hetalia, and this song perfectly embodies that trope.

QUESTION…?: ScotFra

“Can I ask you a question? Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room and every single one of your friends were making fun of you but 15 seconds later they were clapping too? Then what did you do? Did you leave her house in the middle of the night? Did you wish you’d put up more a fight? When she said it was too much? Do you wish you could still touch …her? It’s just a question.”

I was, truth be told, not expecting this song to fit ScotFra the most. But, the more I looked at the lyrics, I realised this song is about someone asking an old fling if they miss them, despite that fling now being in a happy and comfortable relationship. As a result, it kinda gives me Auld Alliance vibes. Especially the part where Taylor sings, “we had one thing going on, I swear that it was something, because I don’t remember who I was before you painted all my nights a colour that I’ve searched for since, but one thing after another: lost in situations, circumstances, miscommunication…” 

LABYRINTH: ScotNor

“Uh oh, I’m falling in love. Oh no, I’m falling in love again. Oh, I’m falling in love. I thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?”'

A slept on ship for a slept on song, it’s just fitting really 😌 as ScotNor is my favourite ship, I knew it would make its way onto this list, and labyrinth is one of the two songs from this album in my ScotNor playlist. A song about the complexities of being in a relationship which is moving fast when you’re afraid of loving, and the feeling that the relationship can’t possibly last, but the person takes you by surprise and turns out to be exactly what you need. With the lyrics, “it only feels this raw right now, lost in the labyrinth of my mind. Break up, break free, break through, break down: you would break your back to make me break a smile.” Considering I headcanon Norway to be scared shitless of romance, and having a strong desire to run away the moment he falls in love. I think this is a sweet and fitting love song for his feelings about Scotland.

SWEET NOTHING: AmeLiet

“They said the end is coming, everyone’s up to something, I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. Outside they’re push and shoving, you’re in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.”

Whilst I’m not an avid shipper, I’ve always enjoyed just how pure and loving AmeLiet is presented in hetalia. Lithuania being America’s calm, and being patient enough to keep up. Sweet Nothing is another song about being caught up in such a pure love whilst everyone is pushing you and expecting things, and having your partner be patient and calm enough to reassure and comfort you through it. I have to be honest, though, the line “and the voices that implore ‘you should be doing more,’ to you I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it.” Tell me that doesn’t perfectly suit america and his responsibility as a superpower? And having Lithuania there to help him cope??

MASTERMIND: NorBela

“What if I told you none of it was accidental and, the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me? I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork, the dominos cascaded in a line. What if I told you I’m a mastermind? And now you’re mine. It was all by design, cos I’m a mastermind.”

This one kills me, because anyone who knows me knows I don’t like norbela at all, but alas, this song suits them too well. Mastermind fits belarus perfectly, it’s about a woman stopping at nothing to get her partner, I know it fit her perfectly from the verse, “you see all the wisest women had to do it this way, cos we were born to be the pawn in every lovers game” and even, right before the final chorus, “no one wanted to play me with as a little kid, so I’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since, to make them love me and make it seem effortless (…) and I swear, I’m only cryptic and machiavellian cos I care” and with the plot twist revealed in the final verse, that she didn’t manipulate anyone, he saw what she was doing the entire time and thought it was cute. I hate it, but it just fits norbela perfectly.

THE GREAT WAR: FrUK

“To that bloodshed, crimson clover. Uh-huh, the worst was over, my hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War. Always remember, uh-huh we’re burned for better. I vowed I will always be yours, cos we survived the Great War.”

Ahh the one that inspired this entire post. I’ve always found this one quite weird with hetalia bc it quite literally ends up becoming about the Great War, but I personally take the world wars as the defining moments where France and England knew that through it all, they will always be there for one another and they do deeply care for one another. So, this song with FrUK just makes perfect sense.

PARIS: nyo! GerFra

Ahh, this one was always going to be a France ship, as it’s quite literally about being in love in Paris. But the song paris just give me more… woman vibes. Whilst I was thinking about different ships with nyo France, it hit me, the second verse is “privacy sign on the door, and on my page, and on the whole world. Romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours. Levitate above all the messes made, sit quiet by my side in the shade, and not the kind that’s thrown, I mean the kind under where a tree has grown.” And I think that respect for intimacy and privacy, really make it stand out that the other person is nyo Germany.

GLITCH: SuNor

“I think there’s been a glitch, oh yeah, 5 seconds later I’m fastening myself to you with a stitch, oh, yeah. I’m not even sorry, nights are so starry, blood moonlit. It must be counterfeit. I think there’s been a glitch.”

A song about a romance where there’s not suppose to be a romance. An accidental love that neither of them are complaining about. Which I, personally, thinks fits well with the idea that SuNor fell more in love with one another after their divorce. The first line is even “we were supposed to be just friends.” I also really think the “fastening myself to you with a stitch” line fits them really well too, as I imagine sunor to be a couple just are just always around one another. Neither of them are codependent on one another, they just like being around one another. Again, another unexpected one.

[reidsaurora]

"Part Four: You Know Where I Am" ~ A. Hotchner and E. Prentiss

GIF by hotchnisslovechild

Summary: After everything that happened at the restaurant, Hotch finds himself at home, tucking Jack into bed for the night. Hotch tells Jack a bedtime story, but little did he know how that story would end in real life.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 2,118

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (possible 18+ content), borderline smut, Switch!Hotch and slightly Switch!Emily, nicknames, a mention of boobs, explicit language, alcohol consumption, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: lil Smutty, lil Angsty

Extra Notes: I'm apologizing in advance bc this chapter f'ed me up too

Based On the Song: Love Me Like A Friend by Fly By Midnight

Originally Written/Re-Written: 02/15/2022 and 03/14/2022

"Love Me Like A Friend" series masterlist can be found here!

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"Daddy, can you tell me a bedtime story?" Jack asked Hotch as he continued to tuck him into bed. Though Jessica had made several attempts to put Jack to bed, he insisted on waiting up for Hotch.

"Sure, buddy," Hotch replied before walking over to the bookshelf. "Which one would you like?"

"I want you to make it up," Jack requested.

Hotch was unsure exactly what story to tell him, especially when he considered that all of his current thoughts were filled with everything that had happened at the restaurant.

If Hotch had to be honest, he'd gotten to the point where he couldn't handle being in the same room as Emily anymore. Every stolen glance was a chance for his ever-growing suppressed feelings to cloud his mind. Throughout the whole dinner, he had to remind himself to pay attention to the two men beside him, not the beautiful brunette one table over.

"OK, bud," he replied, squatting down beside Jack's bed. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. Now, this princess wasn't like every other spoiled, stuck-up princess. She was kind, perhaps sometimes a little too kind," he stated with a chuckle. "But, she had her moments of being bold where she told things like they were. This princess wasn't one to hold back from saying how she really felt. Now, there was also a man, a lowly servant. And he felt that he'd fallen in love with this princess. He wanted to give his all to her, to give up serving everyone else just so he could serve her. But see, because the princess was so kindhearted, she hated the idea of the servant giving up everything for her. She believed that the servant deserved better, even though the servant knew she was what was best for him."

"Does this story have a happy ending, Daddy?" Jack asked with a puzzled look.

"I'm not sure, son. The princess and the servant are still trying to work things out. The servant believes he and the princess could fall in love, but he's not quite sure how the princess feels about that."

Hotch placed a kiss on a puzzled Jack's forehead before giving him a small smile and standing back up.

"Good night, Daddy," Jack smiled as his dad stood up. "I love you."

"I love you to the moon and back, Jack," Hotch sighed as he turned off the lamp.

Hotch exited the room before going downstairs for a drink. He'd found himself doing that a lot lately. At first, he tried to convince himself it was a coping mechanism, seeing as many people deal with both grief and stress by drinking. But eventually, he realized even he couldn't lie to himself.

The real reason he'd been drinking so much? It was the ulcer caused by the lovesickness he had for Emily, and he didn't have any medication to make it go away.

As he took the last gulp of whiskey in his glass, he heard the tune of his and Emily's favorite song by The Beatles being tapped against his front door. He placed the glass down before heading toward the door, nervous of if he'd be able to contain his thoughts once she entered the house.

Immediately, Hotch was met with delicate kisses along his jawline, similar to the ones he'd received earlier at the restaurant.

Hotch's mind changed really quickly as he felt his downstairs brain beginning to think of that last request Emily had given him earlier at the restaurant.

He felt a wave of something that felt almost like relief, like he was alleviated of the thoughts he'd been having about her not two minutes ago.

"We have to be quiet. Jack just went to sleep a few minutes ago," Hotch whispered.

Emily smirked up at Hotch. "I'll try not to yell your name as loudly as you yell mine."

Next thing Hotch knew, he was hovering over a now semi-naked Emily. He was sure she'd gone out of her way to wear the scrappy, black lingerie she was wearing underneath that emerald green dress he'd wanted so badly to tear off her body.

"If this is how you treat me when you lead, I never wanna lead ever again," Emily commented, her breathing heavy.

"We both know that's a lie, Em," Hotch rebutted.

"You know, you still haven't shown me what happens when I lie," she mentioned, almost daringly.

"In a moment, Emmy," he said, leaning down. Now he was the one leaving small bites on her neck. He thought of all the ways he could punish her, taking inspiration from the ways she'd punish him if the shoe were on the other foot.

Suddenly, his thoughts were clouded with guilt and doom. He couldn't do this anymore, not when the boy across the hall believed Hotch was still in love with Haley. Especially not when he thought about the bedtime story he'd told him.

Hotch knew this wouldn't work out. No matter how hard he could ever try, he'd never make the princess named Emily Prentiss fall in love with the lowly servant that Hotch felt like.

"Aaron, are you OK?" Emily asked when noticed him becoming less confident and more distanced. "I told you, I'd guide you. I believe in you. I know you're a good leader."

Hotch shook his head, attempting to distract himself from his thoughts. He gave her a rough kiss on the lips, trying to divert his attention away from his mind and onto the beautiful woman who lay beneath him.

"Mmm, that's it," she smiled against his lips, "You're doing really well, sir."

Hotch felt his stomach do a somersault at this new nickname. Far too often had he found himself being referred to as Emily's "baby boy", so often that he didn't know exactly how he was supposed to react to this new nickname.

"Thank you, princess," he managed to say before going back down to her neck.

Emily was flabbergasted that Hotch had adjusted to his new nickname so well. In fact, she even realized she preferred the nickname "princess" over "madame" any day.

Emily reached her hands up to feel Hotch's exposed chest, something she could never get enough of. She loved to watch his chest heave up and down after she'd left him breathless, only this time, he was going to leave her breathless. And she wasn't mad about it.

Hotch's hands traveled downward, landing on her hips. He found himself holding her down against the bed, much stronger than he or Emily had anticipated. As he placed a couple kisses along her exposed collarbone, she managed a quick, "Good job, sir."

"I can't do this. I'm sorry," Hotch breathed heavily, positioning himself to no longer be hovering over Emily.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked as she sat up, rubbing his shoulders lightly. She leaned into his back, making sure Hotch could feel her boobs as they rested against his back muscles.

"I can't do this," Hotch reiterated.

"Sure you can, sir. Leading isn't that hard once you-"

"Not being the dom, Emily. I can't do this anymore," Hotch clarified. As the next words began to flow out of his mouth, he realized that he was at his breaking point, and no amount of super-glue could put him back together. "I can't pretend I'm OK. I can't pretend like this wasn't some strange way to help me cope with Haley. I sure as hell shouldn't be pretending like it's an alright method of coping. But I especially cannot keep pretending like I haven't caught feelings from all this."

"What? What are… What are you talking about, Hotch?" she asked as she moved to sit beside him, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Emily, you know damn well what I mean. I can't handle the back and forth anymore. Either we're something or we're nothing."

"No, Hotch," Emily said. She could feel tears pricking her eyes. "We're… we're best friends, first and foremost."

"What best friends sleep together four months after one of them loses a spouse? Emily, we're not just friends anymore. I know that. And I think it's time you accept it too."

"Aaron, I don't want that. I want things to stay like this. This is what we do. When one of us is sad or anxious, we make the other forget about the pain. When one of us is excited, we celebrate it together. This is what we are. And I'm not willing to change that."

"Then, I don't think it would be best for us to continue meeting like this," Hotch replied in a stern voice, the voice he'd use at work when a colleague needed to be reprimanded.

Emily hopped up from the bed, hands on her hips and ready to retaliate against him. "That sounds like a business proposition, Hotch."

"Well, it sure isn't a sexual demand," he rebutted sarcastically.

Emily bent down and leaned into Hotch's face. She could feel anger heating up her entire body as she growled, "Go to hell, Aaron Hotchner."

Hotch grabbed Emily's dress from the floor and shoved it against her chest so as to prompt her to take it from him. He didn't know why, he knew he had no reason, but he continued on with his next statement anyway. "I'll see you there."

As hot as Emily thought it was when Hotch said this, her anger was more prominent at that moment. She practically threw her dress on and slid into her heels as quickly as possible, ready to go home to Sergio, who she now realized was the only man she'd ever want, because at least he wasn't a dick.

As Emily reached the bedroom door, she scoffed and turned to face Hotch. "You know, you suck at being the dominant."

Hotch's arms crossed in front of his chest. "Maybe you're just a shitty teacher."

Emily smirked as she made her way back toward Hotch. Internally, she was stunned with herself that she was about to say the following words out loud. "Oh, well. It doesn't matter now. I have a wonderful man I've been seeing behind your back and he can dominate me any time he wants to. Because guess what?" she asked, getting up in his face. "He didn't need a teacher. And even if he did, he'd be a hell of a lot faster learner than you."

Hotch followed quickly behind Emily as she sprinted down the stairs. She grabbed her purse from the hook by the door, ready to speed down the highway and away from the Hotchner residence.

"I'll see you at work on Monday," Hotch told her in probably the most stern voice he'd ever used.

"If you're lucky," Emily retaliated. "You should be glad I'm not quitting over workplace harassment," she quipped.

"You can't quit if I fire your ass first."

Emily thought of about a million comebacks she could've used, but she was able to think rationally for long enough to keep her job. As she opened the door, she turned back around one last time to say, "You know where I am if you want to fix this."

"Well, you sure as hell know where to find me when you're ready to fix what you've done, you fucking bitch."

Emily willed herself not to cry, she couldn't stoop that low. She scoffed as she blinked away her tears. "Just remember, you're the one that fucking started this, you pompous son of a bitch."

Emily scoffed as she ran down the front steps and out to her car, driving away about ten miles over the speed limit. As soon as she slammed the car door shut, her face was overtaken by the wetness of salty tears uncontrollably trickling down from her eyes.

Hotch slammed the front door behind her, though he immediately regretted it when he thought about his son who was asleep upstairs.

Or, at least that's where he was supposed to be.

Hotch turned around, immediately being met with the sight of Jack, who was clutching onto his teddy bear like his life depended on it.

Hotch ran a hand through his already messed up hair, unsure what to say to Jack. He was able to come up with, "Everything's alright. Daddy didn't mean to wake you up."

"Are you OK, Daddy?" Jack questioned, looking up at Hotch through sleepy eyes. "I heard shouting and I got scared."

"Yes, everything's alright. That was Miss Prentiss. She and Daddy had a little bit of a misunderstanding. You can go back to bed."

And so, Hotch found himself re-tucking Jack into bed, ready for a much needed full night's worth of sleep after everything he'd just put himself through.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

i literally started squealing while trying to proofread this bc this chapter!!! ik i say this about every chapter, but i swear to yall, i think this is my favorite chapter in the whole fanfiction. anyway, hope you guys enjoyed!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

↳ Request an imagine here!

↳ Join my taglist here!

↳ Get to know me here!

↳ TAGLIST: @thoughts-and-funnies @drayshadow @lowsodiumfreaks67 @skeetulrichandbillyloomis @the-lucky-ones311 @alexxavicry @florenceremingtonthethird @mercuryvapours @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @1234-angelika

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

[candied-cae]

Am I Allowed...?

Chapter 1/1 - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 1,717

Summary : While on the road Jaskier sings joyfully a song about a young love, but when he uses male pronouns Geralt starts a tense and confusing conversation. "Wait… So you… liked this guy?”

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

Geralt was walking down the beaten path between Jaskier and Roach. They were leaving Timera and headed west towards Cidaris, rumors of some vile beast of the night were circulating and it seemed just the right place to go. While Geralt was focused on making quick time of the travel and making it to some good camping ground by the time it got late, Jaskier was singing merrily. It was some story he’d never heard before, but the bard always seemed to be singing and despite all the songs Jaskier has written about the witcher, he still had some of his own that he let out in his own time. As much as Geralt was trying not to listen, the bard’s lyrics would seem to make their way into his ears.

“Boyhood love, so innocent, so sweet” Jaskier mused.

The Witcher’s attempts at ignoring the bard weren’t so effective when the night air seemed so silent, there was nothing else to put his mind to besides Yennefer, and he didn’t particularly want to think of her right now considering the fight they’d had only weeks prior. So he listened. What Geralt was begrudgingly following in the song, was that Jaskier was recounting one of his first flames from long ago. Jaskier met this girl at some noble party when they were both young and spent an enjoyable evening together. But considering that the bard hadn’t spent ages while they were traveling speaking at length about the girl, they likely never met again, with this song as the only testament to their engagement.

Jaskier went on with his tune singing into the midnight air like the moon was the only audience he desired.

“We danced through the night and spoke until morning dawned,

Though my time with you was brief, I had grown fond

Unfortunately, not all things can last

But I’ll hold onto these memories from so far in the past.

I warn all ye listeners, let not your love out of sight,

For he was beautiful, with those blue eyes glittering in the moonlight…

And-”

“You mean she.” Geralt corrected him.

The bard stopped singing and strumming his lute, in his pause he cast his eyes toward the witcher and asked simply,“ Hm?”

“You meant she. It’s not often you misspeak, but you said “He was beautiful” and you meant to say ‘she’.” Geralt explained plainly without tossing a glance towards Jaskier.

“As pleasantly surprised I am that you’ve been listening to my ballad with ever so baited attention, clinging on to my every word, like if I didn’t finish my tale you’d never be able to move on from-” Jaskier spoke, drama dripping in his voice.

Geralt replied with an annoyed groan, rolling his eyes away from the incessant bard.

“You’d be wrong, however.” Jaskier answered, he pulled the case for his lute off his back and packed up the instrument, keeping up with Geralt’s always impressive strides while wistfully remembering his youth,“ This song was in truth written when I was very young and it’s recounting a night I spent in the company of Duke Eurvindyn of Mayena. I was maybe 13 or so when we met, and the evening included nothing more than drinks and intelligent conversation. But it was fun to entertain the imagination of a wily young lad when I was such a young rapscallion. Likely nothing would’ve come of it had we even tried to-”

Geralt cut Jaskier off and posed a new question,“ Wait… So you… liked this guy?”

“I did. He was beautiful, kind, and charming, he had humor and wit, and though he ended up marrying a boring dolt for a wife, I’m sure he still finds time to be amusing like he was ba -”

Geralt’s eyebrows began to knot “You... You liked this guy and-”

“And what of it Geralt? Is it a problem for you that I did?” Jaskier released a sigh, slinging his lute back onto his back and looking up towards the moon that was glowing overhead.

“I wouldn’t call it a problem.”

“Well what would you call it then? He’s certainly not perfect I will admit, but in my defense, I was 13 and so was he. We were two bored noble boys who found each other far more interesting than the party we were in attendance of. But since then I’ve had my fair share of experiences and just because you haven’t watched me wrap a man around my pinky and lay him for the night, don’t assume I can’t do it or haven't done it. In my many years I’ve enjoyed a plethora of involvements and relations. All of which I’m quite proud of and was happy to participate in.” Jaskier was becoming worked up. While he and Geralt had never explicitly had the conversation, he had assumed that Geralt understood his interests in both male and female relationships. And he certainly didn’t expect the Witcher to be so against them.

“I’m just a bit lost on the- you’re both men.” Geralt’s pace began to slow and he looked at Jaskier while he questioned him, searching for answers.

“Yes, Geralt!” Jaskier fumed,“ I like to drink a few ales with a fellow and then ask him to join me up stairs. I enjoy a feminine guy to prace around a ballroom with. I like a big, strong man to enjoy long walks on the beach with. And I like them just as much as many girls do. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s a personal preference and I don’t understand why you’re having such a difficult time dealing with it!”

“‘But it’s just- damned- how is it that…” Geralt was uncharacteristically stammering, but that didn’t dissuade Jaskier from lecturing the witcher.

“The Continent is growing, Geralt, and the people on it are growing too. While you may be a tired old man afraid of change, people these days are changing. It’s beautiful the way things are progressing and while it’s laborious to keep up with it, your best interest would really be to become a bit more flexible and understanding on these sorts of things.”

“But… you could like guys and-”

“Yes, yes Geralt, I can and do like guys. I understand it’s a bit of a shock, but please, do take a minute to calm down and process it” Jaskier finished, keeping his eyes forward and picking up his pace.

Geralt stopped in his tracks altogether, his eyes trained on the path under his feet before letting out little more than a whisper.

“Hm?” Jaskier called back as he kept moving forward.

“... could like guys?” Geralt let out a bit louder this time.

“What was that?” Jaskier flippantly yelled over his shoulder to the witcher.

“ I could like guys…?” Geralt finally asked loud enough to be heard. His fists were balled at his side and his shoulders were stiffened.

Jaskier’s eyes widened and he turned around to face his friend “Geralt…” he quietly let out.

The witcher bit his bottom lip and felt nerves bumbling around in his belly. He searched for the words he needed but found them escaping his grasp. All these ideas were new to him, thoughts he’d never even considered exploring before this night. He didn’t like it. Geralt didn’t like not having a reign on his emotions, he didn’t like being unsure, he didn’t like being confused or nervous. He didn’t like the mess that this conversation was making of his head and everything he knew before.

Jaskier took a step back towards Geralt. Studying everything he could about his old friend, but suddenly he seemed like a stranger. Geralt didn’t freeze up like this, he’d never spoken so unassured like this.

Geralt’s heart felt to speed and his breaths were becoming hitched in his throat. The nerves continued to build and then Roach gave Geralt a bump to his shoulder. He gave her a scowl before looking down at the bard. After another moment of silence he gained just a bit of fortitude.

“I just mean, I’ve heard of men and I’ve met some men, who did in fact like guys, but it just- It always seemed so removed. Like they weren’t really there and maybe it wasn’t really real. Like background characters in a story it didn’t seem important or applicable. It felt so far away from me that I just- But if you do , and I know you’re real, then it must be a real thing. And that makes it an option, but I- I- I just didn’t realize that I could- Icould like guys.”

Jaskier closed the distance he had put between him and his friend. Geralt wasn’t being judgmental or rude, he was just… scared. He put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Of course you can, Geralt. You can like anyone you want. I’m sorry I didn’t realize-”

Geralt’s breathing quickened, let go of Roach’s reins, and seemed to sink a bit into his knees. He racked his gloved hands into his hair while his wide golden eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

With a shaken voice he looks into Jaskier’s eyes while tears rim his own and asks,“ So… it doesn’t have to be Yennefer? Or Triss? It didn’t have to be Renfri? I could… I could like a man. And it’d be okay? It would- break things ?”

Jaskier bends down to Geralt level and takes the witcher’s hands from his white hair, placing them over Geralt’s heart,“ The world surely won’t collapse, cities won’t crumble, and people won’t die if you like men.”

“So I could… fall in love with a man? And live a life with him , not a woman.” Geralt pled while a few tears spill over his cheeks before he rubs them away furiously.

“Provided that he loves you too and wants to spend that time with you, then of course you can.” Jaskier jokes, giving Geralt a small nudge on his shoulder to which he lets out a dry chuckle.

“I could be happy with a man, and it’d be okay?”

“It’d all be perfectly okay.”

“I could like men and it’d really be okay?”

“Of course”

Geralt closed his eyes and gulped down more of his nerves before looking back into his bard’s eyes and asking,“ I could like you? ”

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

My Other Works ❤

Feel free to go and leave it a kudo on ao3 too, if you want ❤

[pineapple-hoseok]

Happy Birthday!

Pairing: Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: A whole lot of fluff, soft Yoongi, 13+

Warnings: Some cuss words and Yoongi being a lovesick puppy

Word Count: 3.7k (wow that’s the longest one shot I’ve ever written)

Summary: It’s your birthday and Yoongi doesn’t know what to get you. He has a huge crush on you and he wants everything to be perfect.

---

Your birthday was tomorrow. You knew it, your best friend knew, the boys knew it, Yoongi knew it. How could Yoongi forget one of the most important days of the year? Well, it wasn’t as important as everyone was hyping it up to be, but it was for Yoongi. Especially because he had the biggest crush on you since Jimin introduced you to him and the others over a year ago. And he was going to use this day to finally tell you how he felt, using the advice Jimin gave him.

The only problem was, he didn’t know what gift to get you. You were supposed to be meeting up at their dorm tomorrow afternoon so they could celebrate with you and Minah, one out of two of your best friends, and he still had no idea what to buy.

Even as he stood in the middle of the shopping mall about a mile from the dorm, he was clueless and running out of time. So he did what he thought of as a last resort and dialed a number.

The boy on the other line answered with a tired ‘Hello?’, making it clear to Yoongi that he had just woken up from a nap. “Jimin-ah, I need your help.”

“Are you trying to find a gift for Y/N but you have no idea what to get her so you’re calling me to see if I can give you an idea of what to buy since I’m her best friend and I know her better than she knows herself?” That left Yoongi speechless.

Jimin knew of the older boy’s crush on you, hell, all the boys did. Even Minah, who was also one of the densest people in all of Korea, knew. Everyone could tell by the way Yoongi’s mood would lift every time you walked into the room, his obvious attempts of getting closer to you on movie nights, spending hours in his studio showing you songs he’d been working on, even letting you hear him sing after he swore he didn’t have the ability to. And when you told him you loved his songs and his voice, he felt his heart do a backflip in his chest. But somehow, you didn’t notice.

“How the fuck did you know that?” Jimin rolled his eyes so hard, Yoongi could practically hear it.

“You’re so easy to read when it comes to her, hyung.” The Busan boy sighed, sitting up in his bed once he realized he wasn’t getting any more sleep. “You already know Y/N’s really into photography, and I just happen to know her camera just broke. She needs a new one.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, wondering to himself how he didn’t think of that before. “Thanks Jiminie, I owe you.” Jimin mumbled a simple ‘hell yeah you do’ and hung up the phone, but not without reminding Yoongi how much he loved him. The older male externally gagged, but internally smiled.

He knew you would never accept a brand new camera from him, but he was going to force you to take it, since he knew how much photography meant to you. He couldn’t live with himself if he knew you couldn’t do the thing you loved, and that he had a way to help. So he walked into Best Buy and made a beeline to the camera section. He knew absolutely nothing about cameras, but he was lucky to have a worker show him the best one for taking 4K pictures. Yoongi thought you’d really like an upgrade from your previous camera, which was kinda crappy considering that you got it for cheap.

Oh yeah, Yoongi thought, Y/N is definitely going to kill me. The boy, who usually kept his feelings to himself, found himself smiling at the thought of what your reaction would be. You’d definitely give him the worst death glare you could muster up, but he knew you would be actually trying your hardest not to cry. So as he swiped his credit card in the card reader, his excitement to give you this gift only grew.

Yoongi sat at his desk later that night, ignoring the calls of all the boys and their questioning of the bag he had in his hands. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, getting to work on the second half of his gift for you.

Meanwhile, you were laying on Minah’s bed while staring up at the ceiling, your best friend sitting on her desk chair. You had no idea what she was doing, but you didn’t question it. Everyone seemed to be keeping something from you lately. First, Minah begged you to sleep over, then you caught her talking to Jimin on the phone about god knows what. Now, she was telling you that the two of you were going over to the boys’ dorm because she forgot her favorite sweater there.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and texted the only person you thought you could get information out of.

If Hoseok didn’t know anything, that means they probably kept him out of it. He was probably the worst liar you had ever met, he couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. But you dropped the subject as soon as Minah stood up from her desk chair. She gestured for you to move over so she could get in the bed too. Back in Busan, you, Minah, and Jimin had been sleeping in the same bed since you all were in diapers, so this wasn’t weird at all to either of you.

“Minah?” You spoke in a soft voice, causing the girl to turn to look at you.

“What’s up?”

You bit your lip, thinking for a second. “What if everyone forgot my birthday? The only person that has said anything about it was Hoseok.”

Minah had to keep herself from smiling. “I’m sure everyone remembers, there’s still a half hour until your actual birthday. Don’t worry, okay?”

You took her word for it, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts. For the next half hour, you and Minah talked about memories you both had from middle school, including the time the two of you drew all over Jimin’s face in middle school when he fell asleep in class. He was still holding a grudge against the two of you for that.

Before you knew it, the alarm clock on Minah’s bedside read twelve am.

Minah jumped up and wrapped her arms around you, screaming ‘happy birthday!’ so loudly in your ear that you were sure her neighbors heard her. You laughed, the girl’s strength knocking you down on the bed while you hugged her back.

“Thank you, now get off of me!” As soon as she did, your phone rang. It was your parents calling you from Busan to wish you a happy birthday. You thanked them, making sure to tell them that you were gonna visit soon before you hung up. Other than that, you had no more calls. Not even from the person you wanted to call you the most, Yoongi.

Everyone knew about your crush on Yoongi, the two of you were really bad at hiding your feelings. But apparently you weren’t, because neither you nor Yoongi knew how the other felt.

Every time you hung out with him and the boys, you always found yourself smiling more than usual whenever he talked to you. And the moments you two spent in his studio listening to a song he wanted to show you only made your stomach fill with butterflies. He seemed to get you more than anyone else did, not even Minah and Jimin. You also couldn’t forget how gentle he always was with you, despite what people have said about him having a cold exterior. Whenever you had a movie night with the boys, Yoongi would always end up sitting next to you, even sharing his blanket with you when you got cold. He’d scold you whenever he caught you speaking badly about yourself, telling you never to do that again. Whenever you were upset and needed comfort, he always let you call him no matter what time of night it was. You couldn’t help but fall for him, which is why you felt disappointed when you didn’t get a text or call from him at midnight.

Your lips turned down in a small frown, but Minah didn’t notice. Instead, she explained that the two of you should sleep so you could go to the boys’ dorm early in the afternoon. You turned onto your side, pulling the covers over your shoulder as you closed your eyes and let sleep take over you.

--

You woke up to the sound of a higher pitched male voice singing happy birthday. As your eyes opened, you noticed it was Jimin singing to you while holding a cupcake with a single candle in it, Minah smiling widely behind him. They gave you a second to sit up in Minah’s bed, a wide smile taking over your features. You closed your eyes, making a single wish before blowing out the candle on the cupcake Jimin was holding out for you. He set it on the nightstand, allowing you to jump into your best friend’s arms and thank him profusely. Jimin’s arms picked you up and lifted you off of the bed, spinning you around once before setting you down on the floor.

“Happy birthday, loser.” You laughed, reaching up to ruffle the boy’s hair.

“Yah, that’s noona to you.” You honestly didn’t care about honorifics, but you did it just to tease Jimin about your one year age difference like you always did. He rolled his eyes, pushing your hand away from him while you laughed even more.

“Now go brush your teeth and put on something nice after you shower, you stink.” Minah pushed you towards her bathroom, leaving you confused. If you guys were only going to the dorm to pick up her sweater, why did you need to wear something nice? At this point you learned not to question anything Minah said, so you just went along with it and started getting ready.

About an hour later, you were dressed in a black skirt and a matching black blouse that you found in Minah’s closet after you forgot your clothes at your house. All you did to your hair was brush it out and style it a little, but you liked the way the wavy style looked on you. Once you stepped out of the room, you found Jimin and Minah whispering about something, with Jimin briefly looking down at his phone.

After you cleared your throat to get their attention, they turned to look at you.

“Perfect, let’s go.” Jimin grabbed your hand and brought you over to the door, telling you to put on the black low top vans you came in before leading you and Minah to his car. Throughout the entire car ride to Bangtan’s apartment building, Minah kept bouncing excitedly in her seat. Jimin on the other hand, kept telling her to stop before he threw her out of his porsche.

Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the building, making your way up the familiar elevator before walking down the hall. You were about to put in the code to the front door before Jimin slid in front of you so he could do it himself. What a child.

He sent a quick text from his phone before putting in the door code. The lights were off inside the big apartment, and you wondered where the boys were. Were they all out and Jimin was the first one home? Dismissing the thought, you took your shoes off at the entrance and put on the slippers the boys got you a few months into your friendship with them. You were about to start looking for Minah’s sweater until all of a sudden, the lights turned on and six boys jumped up screaming.

“Surprise!” You would’ve fell on your ass if it wasn’t for Minah who caught you from behind, everyone laughing at your reaction. All around you were balloons and streamers in an array of colors, the entire living area of the dorm looking festive.

You started tearing up, your hand fanning your eyes as you looked around at the seven boys -- plus Minah -- that planned this surprise party for you.

“You guys did all of this for me?” They all nodded, all of them running over to hug you before you could burst into tears. You hugged all of them individually, each boy wishing you a happy birthday. Hoseok came up to you, wrapping his arms around you in a friendly hug. Aside from Jimin, Hoseok was the next boy you considered as one of your closest friends in Bangtan.

“I swear, Y/N, I didn’t know anything about this until an hour ago.” You laughed, hugging the boy tightly.

Next was Yoongi. He walked up to you with a smile on his face, holding his arms out for a hug. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, your heart doing backflips and somersaults in your chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you to say happy birthday at midnight, they took my phone so I couldn’t contact you and ruin the surprise,” He spoke, his lips right next to your ear making his soft voice send shivers through your body. You hugged him for a second longer than the other boys before pulling back from the hug.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t worried.” That was a lie, but you decided that Yoongi didn’t need to know that.

The two of you walked over to the living room where the rest of the party was, your body immediately taking a seat next to Seokjin when he offered you one of the switch remotes to play Mario Kart with him.

That’s how the party went for the next few hours. A Mario Kart tournament between you and your eight friends took up a lot of the time, but you ended up beating everyone. You knew all of them had let you win, because there was no way you could beat Seokjin, Jungkook, AND Taehyung. But you didn’t mind, you got a crown made out of paper as your prize.

At last, it was gift opening time. Everyone sat on the living room floor, letting you use the couch as your throne as you opened each gift.

“I told you guys not to get me anything.” You whined, earning a bunch of comments from the peanut gallery to shut up and open your gifts.

So that’s what you did, starting with a gift from Jungkook. He got you the new pair of vans you’ve been wanting and were telling him about last week. Taehyung got you a gucci necktie to match his, Hoseok got you a pin that says ‘I <3 New Zealand’ from when they visited the year before (which you laughed at), Seokjin got you an Eevee plushie to match his, Namjoon got you a copy of the book he was reading which you asked him for a while ago, and Jimin got you a signed cd of his single ‘Promise’. After each of the boys gave you their gifts, you hugged each of them and made sure to tell them how much you really liked everything.

Then Yoongi gave you his. It was in a wrapped box and it felt heavy. You prayed that he didn’t get you something expensive, after you specifically told everyone not to buy you anything expensive. But you carefully opened it anyway, the wrapping paper revealing the box of a brand new Canon camera. A chorus of surprised sounds came from everyone, your eyes widening while looking down at the box. This camera was a huge upgrade from the shitty one you had before, which broke after some random guy bumped into you while you were taking pictures one day.

“Min Yoongi, I’m gonna kill you.” You mustered the best death glare you could give him. If looks could kill, the boy would be six feet under by now.

“Well I’m not taking it back, and there’s no refunds or returns so you have to accept it.” He wore a smug smile on his face that you wanted so badly to wipe off completely. You would definitely murder him in his sleep later.

You set the box down next to you and sighed in defeat, going over to hug him too.

“Thank you, it really means a lot to me.” Your voice was soft as you thanked him, and you could feel him smile against your cheek. You were about to go back to your seat when Yoongi stopped you.

“Actually, there’s something else I have for you,” He looked around at the curious eyes of everyone staring up at him, “in private.”

This set off another chorus of ‘woah’s from all of the boys, Minah only snickering in the corner. After telling them all to shut up, Yoongi stood and gestured for you to follow him to his room. You stood and followed closely behind him, ignoring the stares you felt on the back of your head.

Yoongi led you into his room and closed the door behind him so you two would have privacy. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, wondering why he brought you here.

“So I kinda wrote you a small note, and I didn’t want you to read it in front of everyone so I brought you here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to you with red cheeks. You didn’t know how to react except for responding with a small ‘thank you’ before opening the note.

Dear Y/N,

I kinda feel like an idiot writing this letter to you, but I didn’t know how else to tell you. Okay I’m just gonna say it, I like you. Like really like you. I like spending time with you, whether it’s with the boys or alone, I like showing you the songs I’m working on, I like when you sit close to me on movie nights, I like when you smile and literally light up any room you walk into, I like how little strands of your hair fall into your eyes and you don’t even notice it, I like the way your dimples pop out every time you smile, I like everything about you. I really like the way I feel when I’m around you, like I get this tingly feeling in my stomach and I can feel my heart do little flips in my chest, and I just feel really happy when I’m around you. Everything in me just wants to keep you happy, because you look really beautiful when you smile, and your laugh is probably more contagious than Hoseok’s (and that’s saying a lot). My point is, I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve right now and I just wanted to ask you something.

P.S: Look back up at me when you’re done reading this.

You had tears in your eyes by the time you looked back up at a nervous Yoongi, his hands shoved in his front pockets to keep himself from fidgeting with them.

“Now that you know my feelings, will you please be my girlfriend?” Yoongi couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours, not until he heard your answer. Right now, he was giving his heart to you in hopes that you wouldn’t break it. He was revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you got to see, and that he had never shown anyone.

You smiled as a few tears slipped past your eyelids, which made Yoongi immediately go into panic mode.

“Oh shit, did I do something? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-“ You cut him off by chuckling lightly, shaking your head.

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.” Your hands reached up to rest on his cheeks, pulling his face closer to yours until your lips met his. Almost immediately, his hands rested on your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

The kiss lasted a little less than ten seconds before both of you hesitantly pulled back just enough to look at each other’s faces.

“Yes,” You spoke softly, causing a confused look to take over Yoongi’s face. Laughing lightly, you realized he completely forgot about his question. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Yoongi smiled his gummy smile that you absolutely adored, his arms wrapping around your waist to hug you again. The size of your smile mirrored his as your hands ran through his hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” His head pulled back, leaning down to kiss you again. You broke the kiss after a second, though, much to his dismay.

“As much as I just want to kiss you all night, we have a crowd of people waiting for us outside.” Yoongi whined, only making you laugh more. But you were serious about going back out there, taking hold of his hand and walking back out of his room. The two of you walked hand in hand back to the living room, smiling at all of the surprised faces staring back at you.

“Finally!” Jimin called out, earning himself a slap on the back of the head from Seokjin. But everyone agreed with Jimin’s opinion, congratulating you and Yoongi.

You all decided to end the night with cake and a movie. Everyone called for you to pick the movie while Minah got up to grab the cake in the kitchen, so you picked ‘Toy Story 2’ again. They all started complaining, but you just smiled and pressed play on the screen.

Instead of sitting on the couch like you normally would’ve, you decided to sit on the floor in between Yoongi’s legs, leaning your back against his chest. You felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, looking back to see your now boyfriend looking back down at you with a smile on his face. Making sure no one was looking, you leaned up to quickly kiss his waiting lips before resting your head back on his shoulder, your arms resting on top of his.

This was officially the best birthday ever.

[dimsilver]

27, 64, 85!

Craziest person in my family and why? Definitely my sister Charlotte :) She doesn’t appear that way at first, but she’s definitely most likely to photobomb, insert random humor, make a tiktok boy face at you during a serious moment, come dancing into your room oddly at midnight, etc 😂 A representative quote: “I’d never get divorced - it’s just too much work.” Now if you asked for most epic/violent family member that would be @noblemaidenfell :)

An album with no skips: I actually have a lot of favorite albums to listen all the way through, but the one that comes to mind just now is Rich Mullins’ The Jesus Demos. Every song is well written, thought provoking, honest, and helps me appreciate Jesus more than I did before.

Do you consider yourself an independent person? Sort of? I have done years of college away from my family (and most of the summer away as well) without being terribly homesick or anything, but I have a long call home where I catch up with everyone each weekend :) I don’t think I’ll ever willingly go without support or frequent contact from friends and family. I’m okay leading or making my own way in things though.

Thanks for sending these!!

[humanlighthouse]

Get to know me memes

I was tagged by both @vishcount and @jockvillagersonly <3

Part I

name: Anna :)

pronouns: she/they, i don’t care either way 

star sign: Sagittarius all the way baby~ (sag sun, Gemini moon, cap rising for my fellow astrology bitches)

height: 181-3cms depending on who measures it, 6 ft for the Americans :p

time: 4:06 pm, it’s a rainy afternoon and i’m trying to relax~

birthday: November 23rd 

nationality: french 

fave bands/groups: i super super suck at picking out favorites for music because my playlists are a MESS and i listen to a lot of random things. still gonna say The Midnight because they’re the only ones i’ve ever seen live (with @czeriah <3)

fave solo artists: same problem. Zhou Shen or Liu Yuning, these days, maybe?

song stuck in your head: i’ve had Divine, by Girls Generation stuck in my head for the last THREE FUCKING WEEKS and it’s good, i like this song, but please, brain, i’m begging you-

last movie you watched: i think it was Yin Yang Master (Straight Edition) with @jockvillagersonly ?

last show you binged: i finished 2gether recently, i’m gonna binge the last five episodes of Vincenzo this week

when you created your blog: 2012, i think? 

the last thing you googled: “1er mai suisse” because the 1st of may is a national holiday in France, but i came back home late yesterday and wanted to go out for groceries only to find every shop on my side of the border closed ^^” so i was hoping the shops Swiss side would be open (they’re not) 

other blogs: i have some but none i actually use, i’m not organized enough for side blogs lol

why i chose my url: i don’t even remember anymore? i’ve never ever changed it, i just like the idea of lighthouses a lot, like a tiny light in the night guiding people back to safety <3

how many people are you following: as of today, 3936. yeah. i know. 

how many followers do you have: 864 apparently?? who are you people??

average hours of sleep: ahahahahahahahahahahahahah (either like...two, or sixteen. sometimes a very nice average of eight, but rarely between, like, 10 pm and 6 am…)

lucky numbers: NINE

instruments: ahah no. music is math and i Don’t Vibe with math. i can sing fairly decently though?

what i’m currently wearing: home clothes so nothing interesting :p (sweatpants, a floral jersey dress, a giant sweater, and bare feet, which is the most comfortable thing ever)

dream job: mushishi, or magical doctor, or something of the sort. doctor, in general, but i already spent a decade a uni and i’m NOT ready to spend another one lol 

dream trip: anywhere in Asia, or Scotland with @czeriah 

fave food: pizza 

top three fictional universes you’d like to live in: DMBJ because i’m a masochist (and also a girl, so i would probably die within minutes :)), H2G2 but only if i get a ride on a spaceship too, Star Trek for obvious reasons, NOT Star Wars for equally obvious reasons, any romance drama universe (or Dramaworld, while we’re at it) ToT

Part II

Last Song: this 

Last Movie: answered above, so last thing i watched: an episode of Saiki Kusuo no Psy Nan while i ate lunch 

Currently Reading: The Fate of Rome for article writing purposes, it’s a book about what biological/ecological elements helped bring about the fall of the Roman Empire, but it’s very well-written and interesting! (also that guy is the only one to ever mention the particular plague i’m writing about soooo)

Currently Watching: so many things at once dear god where does the time go (Vincenzo, Word of Honor, Fairyland Lovers, Killer Healer, Saiki Kusuo, Devil Punisher, The Way of the Househusband, Cobra Kai…) 

What is antipoetry to you: okay, i ADORE poetry, and this is a really fun twist on it imo. ironically, i think it only serves to elevate the mundane rather than lower poetry, making it…. kinda poetic in the end? lol. back when i was doing Japanese Studies, my favorite was Matsuo Basho who wrote a lot of what could, i guess, be considered antipoetry? like mosquitoes annoying him, and sleeping beside his stinky horse, in the same way that he wrote about stunning imagery and very moving emotions. King. 

Currently craving: a new obsession, please, please, please, i’m begging you brain, i need the dopamine ToT also some focus to work on my fics would be nice? 

Thanks for tagging me guys <3 I love you both so much <3 

Tagging @czeriah @tiredsosleeping and @etherealwhistler as usual, also @psychic-waffles and @golgafrincham if you guys haven’t been already! 

[theyearoftheking]

Book Eighty-One: Billy Summers

“Maybe a chilly story needs a chilly writing room, he thinks. It’s as good an explanation as any, since the whole process is a mystery to him, anyway.” 

Well hello there, Constant Readers! Have you missed me and my half-assed reviews of Steve books? 

Crickets. 

I know I’ve promised book reviews, television recaps... all the things. But I’m kind of busy living and enjoying life at the moment, without the need to take notes or screen grabs. That being said, I really did enjoy Billy Summers, and it took me almost a hundred pages to remember how this blogging thing worked. I was supposed to take notes? Dark Tower references? DePere, Wisconsin? Should I remember that for some reason? But don’t worry, it was like riding a bike. This blog is full of all the stuff you’ve come to know and love, as well as SPOILERS!!! So, if you have not finished the book yet, stop reading and come back once you’ve turned the last page.

SPOILERS!!! Consider yourselves adequately warned. 

Billy Summers doesn’t really include anything supernatural, and it’s more suspenseful and plot driven than some of Steve’s other books. In other words, it’s another great recommendation for people who don’t claim they don’t like Stephen King. 

Billy is an assassin who has mastered the art of “dumb like a fox”. 

He’s hired for a new assignment, but something seems off. Billy has been in the assassin game long enough to know when something is foul in the state of Denmark. He doesn’t trust the people who hired him, and he has the distinct impression he’s going to end up as the patsy in the end. But, he plays along as Dave Lockridge, single man and writer. He moves onto a charming street in Midwood (I kept reading this as Midworld... thanks, Steve), makes friends with all the neighbors, and beats all the neighborhood kids at Monopoly on the weekends. This part of the book was so tender, it reminded me a lot of Ted Brautigan and the kids from Hearts in Atlantis. Of all the things Billy later regrets, it’s letting these kids down, and having them trust him when he was obviously so untrustworthy. 

During the day, Billy writes  at his office in Gerald Tower. There’s always a tower, isn’t there? And this tower takes on more significance, because it’s the spot from which Billy is supposed to shoot Joel Allen. Joel is due to be transferred to Midwood, and marched up the steps of the courthouse just like in The Outsider. Constant Readers remember how well that worked out... 

Billy has an assassins creed: he only shoots bad guys. On the scale of bad guys, Joel Allen isn’t quite Ted Bundy, but he’s not Mr. Rodgers either. He had something of a “me too” moment when he accidentally mistook a feminist writer for a sex worker; and there was a gun fight outside of a poker game. It’s enough for Billy to work with. 

Billy is waiting for Joel to be transferred to the Midworld Midwood county lock-up; and he bides his time by actually doing some writing. He covers his tragic childhood (his mom worked in a laundry facility, just like Steve’s mom), and his time in the military. This is where Steve really shines. Billy’s book is written in a childish tone that just WORKS. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a simple-minded assassin. But still waters, friends. As the story goes on, Billy’s voice grows and improves. Well done, Steve, it’s like two books for the price of one.

In between writing, Billy assumes another fake identity (Dalton Smith), and secures a bolt hole to hide out in once his job is complete. Believe it or not, the murder of Joel Allen is such an insignificant part of the book. Billy successfully takes him out, and makes it to his bolt hole undetected. And this is really where the second part of the book starts. 

One rainy night, Billy hears random noises outside his apartment. He looks out the window in time to see a van full of guys dump a female body into a gutter. Billy should have just anonymously called the police... but if he had done that, we wouldn’t have a story. Instead, Billy goes full on Captain Save A Ho, and pulls the young woman from the gutter. It’s clear she had been drugged and assaulted, and she manages to puke all over Billy’s place. 

Neat. 

When Alice wakes up in the morning, she recognizes Billy from the police sketches, but promises not to rat him out for the Joel Allen murder. They form an unlikely friendship that includes watering the neighbor’s plants, watching Blacklist, and Alice reading Billy’s book. Basically, they were sheltering in place before that was even a thing; something Steve jokes about. Eventually, Billy knows he needs to get the rest of his money for the Joel Allen hit, and punish the guys who raped Alice. 

Y’all. I’m still having nightmares over the most creative use of a hand mixer I have ever read. I thought the can-opener in Lisey’s Story was bad... this was worse. But the kind of worse you feel good about, if that makes sense. 

After finding out the name of the guy behind the Joel Allen hit, killing a few bad dudes, and pissing off a bitch named Marge (fucking Marge if you’re nasty), Billy and Alice hunker down in Colorado with Billy’s assassin booking agent, Bucky. 

As soon as Billy and Alice entered Colorado and the town of Sidewinder was mentioned, I knew where we were headed. Yeah buddy, Overlook time! 

Billy takes to writing in a little shack behind Bucky’s house, and inside the shack is a Polaroid picture of the topiary animals at the Overlook. Every time Billy looks at the picture, the animals seem to have shifted. It gives him a cold sense of dread. 

There’s a certain parallel I picked up on in Colorado: Jack Torrance and Billy Summers are both haunted men running away from things. The Overlook was where Jack went to dry out, and work on his writing. He wanted to work on his marriage, and become a better father to Danny. We all know he failed spectacularly. Then, we’ve got Billy. Billy actually gets writing accomplished, and becomes an unlikely father-figure to Alice. Despite having just as much, if not more baggage than Jack, Billy doesn’t let it define him. He acknowledges it, and moves past it. It’s almost like Billy accomplishes what Jack couldn’t. And it took the Overlook burning to the ground for that to happen. 

While we’re on the topic of Billy and Alice, one of the things I love about Steve’s characters is he never forces romance where there doesn’t need to be any. While Billy acknowledges the age gap between him and Alice, nothing untoward ever happens between them. There’s obvious love, but never the romantic kind. Steve is one of the few contemporary writers to get this right. 

The story ends with Billy killing the guy behind Joel’s hit, getting shot by Marge as he leaves the crime scene (fucking Marge), Alice nursing him back to health, and getting him back to Colorado where they all live happily ever after.

I wish.

I wish I had stopped reading twenty-three pages before the book ended, because the actual end was more realistic, but heartbreaking. In reality, fucking Marge shot Billy in the stomach, and he died of an infection in the back of a Walmart parking lot. Fucking Marge indeed. But this was the way the book should have ended. Needed to end. Anything else would have been unrealistic. But damn, I hated to see Billy go out like that. 

There was one Wisconsin reference: after Billy kills Joel Allen, he’s supposed to be transferred to a safe house in De Pere. You know... where Steve lived when he was in a kid.

Other than Gerald Tower, we were also graced with “the world has moved on-” just to remind us that we all follow The Beam. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 49

Total Dark Tower References: 78

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Mr. Mercedes: A+

Billy Summers: A+

End of Watch: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

The Outsider: A+

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: A+

If It Bleeds: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Finders Keepers: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Institute: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Revival: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Later: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Sleeping Beauties: B-

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers D

I’m not going to end this with any promises of upcoming posts. That way when I do randomly stumble on here one afternoon, it will be a delight for us all.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

[botheredbuck]

okay this is inspired by this post by @shiftingbetweenfandoms because i love hamilton and the thought of dear theodosia associated with ben and lexi made me more emotional than it should so here, have this drabble about ben just straight up loving his daughter and his fiance

(please be aware that this was written at like midnight last night and i do not have the energy today to edit it so if its shit- blame last nights me)

-

The song changes distantly in the background, and Ben only just catches it. It’s only because the conversation lulls (Lexi’s worn herself out and she’s fighting sleep against Ben’s chest) that he catches the first few notes of a song that he thinks he’s heard before. It’s distantly familiar, the pattern of the piano swirling something in his chest the way a lot of music does these days. It’s something that he hadn’t ever admitted after the accident - scared of judgement, or something, old scars burning a little too close and a little too bright - but he’d missed it among all the other things that he felt too close to forgetting. The sound of Lexi singing, or Callum laughing, or even the way he snores (a sound he possibly takes a little too much pleasure in, especially now that it rumbles through the other man’s chest, vibrating across the arm that Lexi’s not sleeping against). Music had been one of those things. The memory of that night that Callum had taken him to the club and put his hand against the speaker still races through his head from time to time, and he’s hit with this rush of how did I get so lucky?

Lyrics trickle in along with the soft piano in the background, and it’s a soft voice that he recognises instantly-

Dear Theodosia, what to say to you?

You have my eyes 

You have your mother’s name

The memory of hearing this song for the first time trickles back into his mind, distant and a little hazy. It’s a memory of a lifetime ago, from when he’d just met Lexi and realised what he could do, the influence that he could have over her.

(He could break the cycle, he could make right the damage that his father did to him by making sure that it didn’t happen to the little girl curled close to him. He could be a better man, a better father. He could give her everything he had, and it shocked something in him that he wanted to.)

I’m dedicating every day to you

Domestic life was never quite my style 

When you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart

And I thought I was so smart 

The words lace through his mind, trickling through memories of the years that he’s spent with the girl next to him - the little girl that proof of everything he thought he could never be. 

(A good man, a good father, a good influence-)

The idea of domestic life was something he hadn’t even considered for so long. Something about not deserving normalcy after everything that he’s done in the past. Ben had thought he was too broken for it but somehow Lexi had crashed into his life, somehow proving every thought in his mind wrong by just being. 

Now, the thought of normalcy - of domesticity - is everything he wants. Sat here, across the sofa with Lexi asleep on one shoulder and Callum curled around his other arm, soft breaths huffing out onto the skin of his neck, normalcy is the only thing he wants. He’d give up a life of excitement just for this, for the sheer excitement, the sheer feeling of being loved by the two most important people in his life.

My father wasn’t around

I swear that I’ll be around for you

I’ll do whatever it takes 

I’ll make a million mistakes 

Sometimes - in times like this that are just evenings spent together in quiet companionship - guilt creeps in at everything that he’d missed. Getting to know Lexi once she’d already grown up is something that he’ll never stop regretting. There’s thoughts of nights spent like this, teaching her the joys of musicals or how to say the alphabet, watching her take her first steps or seeing her off the first time that she went to school. He knows he’s made a million mistakes and that he’ll continue to because he’s a work in progress above all else but he’s trying, and he’s determined to be better for her - for everything that he has now, because he can’t bear to think of ever losing it. 

We’ll bleed and fight for you

We’ll make it right for you 

If we lay a strong enough foundation

We’ll pass it onto you

Ben’s determined - he’ll make things right, make things better, for the sake of the life that he has now. For the sake of the people who are asleep either side of him, because they’ve both changed his life in ways that he can’t explain, and he’s determined to do whatever he can to pay that back.

We’ll give the world to you 

And you’ll blow us all away

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 15: The Girl Who Woke Me Up

Sehun's POV

It wasn't like Lei to be late, but she was nowhere to be found half an hour into the New Year's party. Although she had been helping her mother set up just a few hours earlier, Lei was not by Manager Kim's side as she made frantic rounds about the room, tiptoeing carefully around Donghae's lingering gaze. Although she and Lucas were nearly inseparable, Lei did not stand by him as he downed another glass of champagne while laughing with Mark Lee at the NCT table.

I was about to send her a concerned text when Taemin said from his side of Jongin, "She is so beautiful."

Like everybody else at the table, I looked toward whoever managed to turn Taemin's voice into a lyrical whisper. It didn't matter that it was none of our business who held Taemin's heart. When somebody loves that openly, everybody wants to watch for a second or two— even me.

My jaw dropped as my eyes settled on her. She was Lei.

Walking beside Baekhyun, Lei held three hearts in the palm of her hand: mine, Baekhyun's, and Taemin's. And I don't even think she knew what she held, what she could destroy with a single touch should she so choose. I think she only felt the weight of my heart because I forced it upon her through forever-kisses at that Christmas Party.

But how— how light, how insignificant might my heart feel compared to that of her ultimate idol? How cold and callous and uncaring might my voice sound compared to his?

How dark, how dull might my love look compared to that of the boy standing next to her? How rough and careless and frozen might my touch feel compared to his when he catches her before she can fall?

My stomach twisted as I fought (and failed) to tear my eyes from the visual of Lei and Baekhyun. They matched so perfectly from head to toe that, had I not known better, had I not believed that she loved me, I would have assumed that she coordinated her outfit with him.

Their dark hair was parted on the left side. Their clothes were crafted from the same sparkling midnight blue material. Their silver masks were a perfect pair that accented their best facial features. Their flowers— their flowers were the worst part. Atop her head, Lei wore a crown of white roses accented by blue baby's breath; she looked like a princess. In the suit pocket over his heart, Baekhyun tucked a white rose; he looked like her prince.

At that moment, I realized that it is much harder to believe in coincidence than it is to believe in fate. At that moment when she was so far out of reach, it was easy to see that Lei and Baekhyun were written in the stars, and I— where was I written?

Suddenly, it was as clear to everyone in the banquet hall as it was to me at the foot of the stairs in Lei's house: they were meant to walk together. Lei and Baekhyun were meant to be viewed as a pair.

As whispers about them, some approving and some disapproving, overtook the party, the tips of my ears burned. My hands formed tight fists under the table. And all I can remember thinking is I have to hide my breaking heart. No, I have to keep it from breaking, at least for now, because it is in her hands. My heart is in her delicate hands, and the jagged shards will make her bleed.

It didn't matter that Baekhyun was standing right there, willing and ready to bandage her. It didn't matter that Taemin could stop the bleeding with a single smile. I didn't want to hurt Lei ever again; I didn't want to scar her anymore. If protecting her meant suffering silently— well— that wasn't anything I hadn't done before.

Quietly, Jongdae whistled. "Who knew that sweet little Princess Lei would grow up to be so pretty?"

Chanyeol laughed loudly as his elbow dug into my ribs. "Someone did, right, Sehun?"

Obviously, I wouldn't have responded to Chanyeol's jest even if I could have found my voice. I wouldn't have known what to say.

Afraid of saying or doing something to shatter the loving image I left with Lei on Christmas, I turned to walk away from the scene that threatened to destroy me. Of course, I wasn't going to hide forever. The plan was to stand some ways away long enough to untangle the knot in my stomach. The plan was to stand aside to remind myself that choices are as significant as fate, and I was Lei's choice. I am Lei’s choice. 

The problem, of course, was my promise to stand where she could see me. I won't go far, I told myself. I'll stand right there, right against that wall, and maybe— hopefully— wouldn't it be nice if she comes to me?

That's pathetic, isn't it— the fact that I still dreamed that she would take the first steps? I'm sorry that I wasn't stronger. I'm sorry that I wasn't bolder. Always, always I was aware of my inadequacies. Always, always I daydreamed about filling them with her. At that moment, however, it occurred to me that that was not right; it occurred to me that that is not love. Above all, it occurred to me that I wanted to give Lei the purest love in her life. 

And I— I didn’t know how. Nobody ever taught me how. 

On my walk, I nearly collided with Taemin. Despite his eagerness to escape the table, he said, "Excuse me, Sehun," through a small smile. The smile wasn't a forced display of manners; it was genuine. I could tell because little wrinkles formed around his eyes.

I had never seen a smile like that before. Although faint, it was not at all sad or indicative of a broken heart even though we were walking away from the same scene: the one we loved beside another. Taemin's smile was joyful, inspired merely by seeing Lei from afar.

I needed to be more like Taemin, I realized as my back pressed against the wall. I needed to learn to love Lei a little more quietly, a little more peacefully, a little more selflessly. Rather than loving her like the careless teenager I had been when we met, rather than relying on her for constant assurance in our relationship that endured storms over a decade, rather than hoping for her to meet me most or all of the way—

I needed to grow up. I needed to find assurance in the steady beating of my own heart. I needed to take the first step for the rest of forever. I would. I will. That’s the promise I made to myself, the promise I made in one of the hearts she held. 

I will love you. I won’t love you perfectly. I won’t love you through a smile as gentle as Taemin’s. I won’t love you with an unmistakable, inescapable warmth like Baekhyun. But I will love you in the best way I know. I will love you with every word I say. I will love you with the words I am not yet brave enough to say. I will love you so deeply for the rest of my life that you will never wonder how I feel. You will never wonder who hung the moon and stars in my sky. 

While Lei defended herself against Chanyeol’s allegation that she had broken my heart as if she could ever be cruel enough to do such a thing, I wrestled with the best way to express my feelings. A verbal conversation wouldn’t do; she enjoyed debating and pressing my buttons too much. I couldn’t very well write a song; that would require enlisting the help of someone like Chanyeol who had better knowledge of music production, and I didn’t want to share my feelings with him (or anybody else, for that matter). 

While Manager Kim captivated the entire room with her heartfelt good-bye’s to Super Junior and Heechul declared that she was resigning from her position as their manager because of her feelings for Donghae, I decided that I could best express myself in writing. Starting from the beginning, I could map out our stars, and there— there I would be written. 

There, I could point to myself on a page and say, ‘I belong here too. I love her too. Even if she wakes up tomorrow and chooses one of you, even if my nightmares come true and she outgrows me, once upon a time, she chose me. Once upon a time, she loved me. Once upon a time, we were the best love story ever written, and I— I— I will never forget that I was her first love, so you shouldn’t either.’

That’s what I wrote on the inside cover of the leather-bound notebook containing our story, by the way. That’s the first of my thoughts that Lei read in my handwriting; it made her break into laughing tears. By that, I mean she was gasping through laughter and tears. So I was also gasping through laughter and tears when she set the book on our bed, crawled to me, and cupped my cheeks with her soft, warm hands, whispering onto my lips, “My first love, my endless love, my Sehun— I am so glad the road led to you.” 

And I believe her. 

When I found Lei standing alone on the terrace where everyone gathered to watch fireworks an hour early at Changmin’s urging, I embraced her. I didn’t think much of the fact that somebody was always watching. I didn’t much care about lingering stares, and I told Lei plainly when she mumbled into my chest, “Someone is going to see, Sehunnie.” 

“I love you,” I reminded her in a whisper per her request. My heart melted into a warm golden puddle in my stomach because of the spoken nickname and because she didn’t push me away. She didn’t argue with me as I declared, “I love you so much that I want everyone to see.” 

That was a funny thing to say, considering that we were huddled together in the darkest corner where no eyes would have strayed. 

I dropped a kiss onto her flower crown because it marked her as a princess— my princess— and it didn’t matter that Baekhyun gave it to her. The affection, I hoped, I prayed, would make me her prince. 

“I love you so much,” I muttered against a rose, “that I want everyone to hear.” 

That was a funny thing to say, considering that I spoke in the faintest whisper that only she could hear. 

Lei giggled as she linked her hands around my waist beneath my jacket. Her laughter was, is, always will be the most beautiful melody in this world. I loved being its conductor. I loved being its audience. 

“I’m so happy, Sehun.” She said my name with the brightest smile I had ever seen. 

It so closely resembled the smile she gave me all those years ago when she first gave me her name. It was still too big for her face, and it made her look much younger than the scowl she hurled at Chanyeol in the banquet hall. The only difference was that she no longer spoke through a gap in her front teeth; the gap was closed. 

After assuring her that I was happy too— far happier than I ever imagined because she stood near— I said, “I miss your gap, Lei. You’re beautiful, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but I really wish I could see your gappy smile one more time.” 

“There are plenty of pictures of it.” The tips of her ears burned red at the compliment, and I thought that I had to call her beautiful every day. From the dimple forming in her chin, however, it was evident that she knew the limitations of photographs. “You know, I miss my gap too. I hated it when I had it, but the thing is: I always picture myself with a gap in my front teeth.” 

I stared into her wide eyes, finding my lovestruck reflection within them. “I always think of you with stars in your eyes.” 

I heard her breath hitch as she held me closer. Breathlessly, she reached for my hand. “I always think of you with my heart on your hand.” 

After bringing my frozen, trembling hand up her lips, she left a ruby-red kiss mark where she once left a fingerprint heart. I wanted to carry that mark everywhere with me. I wanted to boast it to everybody, and I promised to learn how to do that. I promised to learn who to tell. I promised to learn what to say to make them understand how much it meant to me— how much it means to me. 

I think I have learned. I think I have made you understand. I hope that I have. Please, tell me that I have. 

Her gesture rooted in our past, her touch— still electric— made my heart flutter. Her touch, even as my favorite memory, still makes my heart flutter. 

Her touch compelled me to say out loud, “I fell in love with you the day you marked your heart on my hand, you know. All at once, I opened my eyes and realized I was on the edge of a cliff, and I—” I choked on my emotions, but I forced myself to continue— “I was so scared that you wouldn’t wait for me at the bottom.” 

The wind blew and filled my eyes with tears that I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to become an overtly sentimental person, but every wall I ever built around my emotions tumbled at her touch. I didn’t want to shed a single tear, but Lei brought both hands up to my face, wordlessly promising to catch each tear before they fell. 

Lei loved me. She loved me so much from the day we met, and I— I am so grateful. I did not know whether love was meant to be repaid, but I resolved in that moment under her moon and all of her stars to return every loving gaze for the rest of my life. 

I held both of her hands against my cheeks because her touch made me brave enough to speak. “You said that I could walk with you anytime. And I just want you to know that I want to walk with you forever. I want you to know that I’m so sorry for—”

For trying to walk away. For breaking her mistletoe crown. For failing to regard her heart as the treasure it had been all along. 

But I couldn’t say any of those things she deserved to hear. My throat tightened around my words. 

Wiping my tears, Lei promised, “I forgive you. I forgive you, Sehunnie. Everything— everything painful is past, and now we are walking hand-in-hand on a path that doesn’t end.” Her thumbs stroked my cheeks, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Don’t carry things we don’t need, angel. Don’t carry things that will only hurt you. It’s okay.” 

Lei pulled me into the sweetest kiss. It lasted for about a millisecond, a blink in time, and I knew that was all we were, but God— God— we felt infinite. I think— no, I know this is love: when somebody makes you, a mere mortal, feel as though time has stopped; when somebody makes you feel as if forever, eternity, and fate were words written for you. 

“In case you forgot,” Lei said, “I love you too.” She beamed up at me, so I had to smile even as she winked in an attempt to dig under my skin: “In case you forgot, I loved you first!” 

Because I couldn’t argue with the truth, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Okay. You loved me first, but—” I caught her around the waist and leaned to whisper in her ear— “I’ll love you longer.” 

“As if,” she scoffed, pushing me away so I could catch the furrowing of her brow. “How can you even make such a bold claim? I told you, Sehunnie, I’ve loved you forever, and I’ll love you forevermore. What could last longer than forever?”

Feigning deep contemplation, I hummed through puckered lips, hoping that Lei would rise to kiss them. (Note: Lei never disappoints.) “Maybe forever in writing? I think I heard once that a love recorded on paper, in a film, or in a song lives forever.” 

“If you’re planning to write about me,” she said, “you should know that I’ve been writing about you too. I’ve been trying to map out or stars since we kissed in your car, but I— I can’t figure out how the stars aligned.” Her head went aslant. “But I also can’t figure out how we could have ended up anywhere else with anybody else.” 

It had been made clear to me that any misstep could have led Lei to Baekhyun or Taemin. Maybe she will find her way to them someday no matter what I do, but I gave no voice to those thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I soared at the imagination of Lei writing to pinpoint the correlation between the me of the past, the me of her dreams, and the me of right now. I hoped she was proud to have created a place where we could be together forever, even if someday we should wake up on different paths. 

It’s romantic, isn’t it, that we separately experienced the same epiphany concerning our stars? 

“Some things are just meant to be,” I figured, sounding unlike the version of myself who struggled to believe in things like destiny, the version I had been for almost all of my life. “You and I— Lei, we are the greatest meant to be I can imagine.” 

When I stepped into the warmth of the agency building from the winter snow, I quickly found Lei asleep at that table by the vending machine where we met. Her face was almost completely nuzzled into the bend of her elbow, into the cloud-soft baby blue sleeve of her sweater. Her dark hair sprawled over much of the table; it was so long then, almost reaching her waist. She shouldn’t have been recognizable, but I would have known her anywhere, from any distance. 

“Wake up,” I whispered into her ear as I settled into the chair next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m here.” 

Once Lei sat upright and set to rubbing her sleep-swollen eyes, it was obvious that we couldn’t go out on an adventurous date. That much should have been obvious, I know, determined by our roles as idols, but I hadn’t shaken that image of her and Baekhyun standing together at the New Year’s party from the front of my mind. 

I wasn’t jealous anymore. That initial towering wave of nausea and the drowning sense of inferiority had passed without casting me overboard. It just occurred to me once the storm cleared and the sun broke through the clouds that I wanted to be the person by her side forever; I wanted to stand by her in the light; I wanted it to be obvious to strangers from a glance that we were meant to walk together. 

Rising to her feet and slinging her bookbag— the tiny pink Hello Kitty bag she carried since childhood, the bag still donning the keychain I bought for her tenth birthday— Lei groaned, “I’m exhausted! And I didn’t even realize it until I woke up.” 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said as I followed her, “but there are more comfortable places to sleep, you know.” 

Lei had worked herself to the point of exhaustion, I know without a doubt, because she made no argument; she loved to argue. 

On our walk to the door, I reached for her hand, which was always much smaller than mine. She flinched at the contact probably because my hands were always cold, maybe because she wasn’t yet used to affection, hopefully because my touch was electric. 

As shocked as she had been at the start, Lei was the one who interlaced our fingers. Lei was the one who whined when I had to break the contact to open the passenger door and then round to the driver's seat. Lei was the one who reached for my hand as soon as I set it on the steering wheel. 

“I just want to feel you.” Her words blurred together drowsily, but her eyes shot open— wide awake— when I glanced at her. “Your hands are so warm, Sehunnie, and it’s so cold outside. I’m freezing!”

After turning the heat up, I said through a budding smile while starting down the familiar path to her house, “Nobody has ever called my hands warm. Then again, nobody ever held my hands before you.” 

“And nobody will hold my hands after you,” I almost said. Because I didn’t want to think of a time after her— I didn’t want to think of a time without her— I bit down on my tongue. I left those words unsaid. Unspoken words hold power too. 

“Your hand was warm at the drive-in too,” she told me. “Holding your hand made me feel like the moon and stars smiled down at us.” 

There was no moon and there were no stars that night, I remembered clearly, but I didn’t remind Lei. Maybe this sounds crazy, but I hope she misremembered a lot about those days before I could love her. In a way, I hoped she romanticized them; I hoped she saw them— I hope she saw the past me— through love-colored lenses. I hoped the stars smiled in all of her memories. 

With an almost childlike quality of honesty— the kind that I never wanted to argue with, the kind I only thought I had to argue with— Lei said, “Holding your hand makes me feel like spring has come.” 

Butterflies raged in my stomach and told me the perfect thing to say: “That’s funny. Looking at you makes me feel like spring has come.” 

I think that might have made her squeal had she not been drifting to sleep. Her head banged against the window every few seconds. 

“Lay back,” I tried to demand sternly, but my voice was nothing but a gentle whisper around her after Christmas. “Lei, lean your chair back and go to sleep. You’re gonna bruise your face or give yourself a concussion if you keep hitting your head.” 

Without opening her eyes, she argued, “I don’t wanna go to sleep! I wanna stay awake with you!” 

She was being rather childish, I thought, but she repeated that sentiment once we sat together on her living room couch, which was no longer tainted by the memory of finding Lucas atop her on her birthday. 

“But you’re tired.” Tightening my arms around her waist, I pulled her closer and encouraged her to lean into me, to fall asleep on me. “Just close your eyes, and I’ll go to sleep with you.” 

Lei didn’t resist my pull. Her eyelashes tickled the skin on my neck as she laid against me and allowed her eyelids to flutter shut. Without mumbling another word, she fell into that deep heavy-breathing sleep, and I wondered how many nights she had avoided sleep. I wondered how I was supposed to fall asleep with her laying so close. I wondered how I was supposed to close my eyes while my heart pounded in my chest, eager to break free and unite with hers. I wondered how I was supposed to breathe while her breath whispered across my skin. 

I was wide awake— I am wide awake— and I never want to sleep again.

[yetanotheremptypage]

Fic: Kiss Me Once (‘Cause You Know I’ve Had A Long Night)

Read on AO3

SUMMARY: Getting married is more tiring than it looks, but Lara Jean has Peter. Always and forever. (To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before movieverse; spoilers for TATB3)

No one had warned Lara Jean on just how much effort it took to get married. Not the planning— she was proud to say that she had helped plan two weddings prior to her own, so she felt confident in her ability to both get good deals and make it look like something she’d dreamed about at age 10. (And most years since then. But that was beside the point.) No, it was the actual weekend of getting married that she hadn’t been warned about.

Her dad and Trina’s wedding hadn’t been a big to-do, and despite being a bridesmaid, at seventeen, Lara Jean didn’t partake in all the bridal festivities. She did when Margot and Ravi got married a couple years ago, as the maid of honor, so she planned those festivities and had a great time. And most importantly, they happened well before the wedding itself.

Kitty, however, was her maid of honor—a decision made years ago in a three-way spit shake—and while Kitty respected her sister’s more eclectic taste, there was absolutely no way Lara Jean was getting married without an alcohol-fueled bachelorette party. Her younger sister was busy with grad school pretty much straight up to the wedding weekend, and Lara Jean’s bridesmaids were scattered across the country, so she made the decision to have her party two days before getting married. Which was… maybe not her best move.

She woke up on the day of the rehearsal dinner with a pounding headache and a glass of water and an aspirin already waiting on her bedside table. Peter had left for work, a half-day before school went on summer break. He’d gone to Stanford planning to major in history and figure the rest out later, but he took an education class on a whim second semester and absolutely fell in love with it. He got to work at an elementary school as part of the course, and he spent the whole semester talking all about the kids he worked with that day.

Now, he taught sixth grade history and absolutely adored it. In the spring, he coached the boys’ lacrosse team, too, which seemed to give him more stress than teaching. He’d tried to get her to apply for the vacant English position, attempting to bribe her with the chance to eat lunch together every day, but she loved working as an editor at the publishing house she’d been working with since junior year of college, so she declined. She was a little jealous that she had to go straight back to work once they got back from their honeymoon in Korea and he didn’t, but she’d get her revenge come the fall and he had to stay up late grading and writing lesson plans.

Both of her sisters joined her within the hour, equally hungover, to go over the list of everything left to do before she walked down the aisle at 5 PM tomorrow evening on a rooftop overlooking the city. Peter had joked they should get married on the Adler High lacrosse field. She’d seriously considered it for about thirty seconds, but getting married in New York felt more romantic. Not just because it was prettier, but because New York had become their home. It was where they lived together for the first time, where they’d become the people they were today. She wasn’t marrying the Peter she tackled on the track, or that she broke up with in the school parking lot (twice), or even the one she danced with in her dad’s wedding tent. It was only right they get married in the place they'd beaten all the odds on high school relationships. Because marriage was about stepping into the future, promising to grow and evolve for the rest of your life. Not about capturing the past.

And in order to that, she spent her day making sure the out-of-town guests arrived safely, checking over the venue, confirming catering, and praying to make it to the rehearsal—and, most importantly, the rehearsal dinner—in one piece.

Which she did. Barely. She did say “Peter Matthew Covey” when they practiced vows, but she was a little distracted by her little cousin, their flower girl, trying to eat one of the little wads of paper they’d given her to practice throwing down the aisle. (Peter didn't seem to mind, answering to "Covey" for the rest of the weekend.) Dinner was nice, family and friends appearing to get along and lovely toasts from her dad and Peter’s mom. But then Trevor whisked Peter away to their hotel before she even got to properly say goodbye, so she, much to Chris’s displeasure, moped the entire subway ride back to her Peter-less apartment.

He called her around midnight, though, claiming that he couldn’t see her on a voice call so it didn’t ruin anything. She complained about how much her feet hurt from the heels she’d worn and he told her about his day at work. When she woke up the next morning, it was too her alarm blaring under her ear, meaning she fell asleep on the phone. She didn’t even remember doing so, but she had both a ‘Night, Covey’ and a ‘Happy wedding day!’ text from Peter waiting for her when she woke up. Some things never changed.

Her dad cried when he saw her, and he gave her a letter that she was shocked to discover was from her mother. Margot hadn’t mentioned getting one on her wedding day, so she kept hers secret, too, and did her best not to ruin the make-up Gen had spent an hour on. She’d never expected to end college calling Gen one of her best friends, again, but she was immensely glad for it. Chris and Gen still weren’t close, but they’d agreed to a truce for the wedding weekend. Lara Jean still put her other college best friend, Zoey, in between them in the bridesmaid lineup, just to be safe.

Peter cried when he saw her, too, and when he said his vows. They’d written each other letters, to be shared once alone, and said generic vows instead, the same ones her dad and Trina had exchanged. They posed for what must’ve been thousands of pictures, Kitty and Owen trying to one-up each other in half of them, and then suddenly they were dancing their first dance to the same song they’d danced to the night they signed their new contract.

She loved her friends, and her family, and Peter’s friends and Peter’s family, but she just wanted to sit and eat and laugh at Kitty’s speech in which she took full credit for the wedding. Instead, she barely left the dance floor, had to beg Margot to guard her food from being taken away, and smiled for even more “candid” photos. She did get to laugh at Kitty’s speech, though. (And Trevor’s, but Kitty’s was better.)

Once they’d been sent off to their hotel room and finally got to be alone, Lara Jean collapsed directly on the bed.

“You good, wife?” Peter teased, plopping down next to her.

“I’m so tired. I’m never getting married again.”

“Well I should hope not.”

“Just do me now. I’ll lie here, and you do whatever you need to do to make it all official, and then I’ll sleep for a couple of years. Wake me then.”

“Sounds romantic.” She turned her head to look at him, his teasing smirk so reminiscent of their younger years. He looked the same, really. But now he was her husband. It made her giddy. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite so tired.

He pushed his head up onto his arm and said, “How about, we get changed into more comfy clothes, I’ll pop that champagne over there, and we can read our letters and gossip about our wedding guests? And then maybe later we’ll do other stuff.”

“I love you, Peter Kavinsky.”

“I love you, too,” he said, and he kissed her, tangling his hands into the hair that she’d left mostly down just for him. She rolled onto her side to reach him better, and then just onto him, and their plans changed rather quickly.

They stayed up for several hours more than she’d intended, in the end both of them all but collapsing into bed. Peter wrapped his arms around her to spoon, and she shut her eyes, trying to remember this moment, always and forever.

“Night, Kavinsky,” she said, like she said every night, and he kissed her temple.

“Night, Kavinsky,” he replied, and it was the greatest thing she’d ever heard.

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Only Mine Pt. 2

A/N: Part 2! I’m really sorry if there are any grammatical errors. I haven’t updated in a bit, wanted to give you guys something, so I haven’t really proof read... like at all. So yeah, if there’s some weird mistakes it’s that. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Word count: 2339 Warnings: Implied smut, a few curse words (I think one, tbh)

The Grammys. An artists dream award.

To even be recognized by the Grammys was already a huge deal for any singer, songwriter, or band. But to be nominated for 10 awards? That was a whole other ballgame.

That’s where you stood tonight though. On the large red carpet in a formal ball gown, an off shoulder look with a slit next to your leg, and it was a beautiful emerald green color, Gerard next to you in a solid black tux. Usually he would say no to these events, but it was you. And this could have been the night you received your greatest accomplishment ever, so he was not going to miss it for the world.

Just like Gerard had predicted, My Midnight Boy was an absolute hit. Many were already considering it the album of the decade, and was placed on to Billboard Top 100 at #1 for over 12 weeks, with over half of the songs reaching the top 5. While that was exciting for so many reasons, a lot of other things in your personal life took a 180. For starters, paparazzi were everywhere. Anytime you or Gerard walked out of your New York apartment, a line of at least half a dozen paps were suited with large cameras to take as many photos as possible. When the two of you were together, there were usually 20. So naturally, you both had to hire security. It was never a decision that you wanted to make, it was one that needed to happen.

Next, your band broke up. Apparently, the boys there couldn’t take your individual success and broke up in a screaming fight which left you crying in a studio, and Gerard having to come and console you for a few hours, reminding you that they left because they couldn’t handle your fame and success.

Your fandom also grew immensely, which was great. You loved scrolling through your Instagram and Twitter everyday, only to see hundreds of fans show off your merch. Some even had Y/N Y/L/N themed parties, rooms, and costumes. It was all so overwhelming, in a good way.

You and him had both done numerous interviews at this point. You were especially glad that Gerard was being asked about My Chem, and not just you. And the questions that did come about you, he would always have the sweetest most genuine answers. “She’s honestly the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend and fiancee.” “She’s a musical genius, honestly. She’s way smarter, way more beautiful, and way more talented than me. Which I’m okay with because she deserves and has earned everything she has.” “She surprises me everyday. She has new, crazy ideas for music. And they all work. She just makes it work.”

And every time you would stand off with a huge smile and even more prominent blush on your face. Finally, at one point, you were asked about Gerard. After all, it was pretty well known now that “My Midnight Boy” was, well, Gerard.

“He’s honestly the best man ever.” You smiled and looked over at him as he just smiled, “I wouldn’t have written as genuine, and heartfelt songs about anyone else. He just makes me feel every emotion, and he’s the one who brings out the best me. He’s my number one supporter, and he always reminds me of that. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect person to spend the rest of my life with.” You could feel your lover squeeze your hand in a small gesture of thanks. You both smiled, departing from that interviewer where your manager met you at the end of the carpet.

“You both did great.” He smiled, “Now the official show starts in about 20 minutes, so they’re beginning to urge everyone to take their seats. Since both of you are done with interviews, it’s probably a good time to head in.” The two of you nodded, being led into the auditorium where you were seated in the first row. Best of the best.

You had an insane amount of people, stars who you had never even dreamt of meeting, coming up and introducing themselves, starting small talk about just how incredible your album was.

You were quite overwhelmed by everything, being at the Grammys hadn’t really sunk in until you were actually there. Gerard could tell, pretty easily, and simply placed his hand on your knee, giving it a lightly squeeze. “It’s okay, sugar,” He whispered into your ear, “You’re doing great.” You gave him a tight smile, him returning one back.

Only a few minutes later, the awards started. You had to admit, it was less glamorized than what seeing it on TV made it out to be. Of course the performances were great, but the moments of complete boredom during commercial breaks and such made you realize were so many stars had complained some about the Grammys.

“After this,” You yawned during once of the breaks, placing your head on Gerard’s shoulder, “Can we go home and eat get some Chinese take out?” “Whatever you want, love.” He kissed the top of your head. You and him were not into much PDA, so anything beyond a hand hold or kiss was a lot.

“And a movie?” You asked next and he smiled.

“Of course, darling.” You smiled back, picking your head back up. The show restarted, both of you sitting back up as they continued going through some of the smaller categories, finally hitting the large ones.

“Next up, we have song of the year.” The two announcers smiled. They went through a list of artists along with their songs, Ariana Grande, Beyonce, and a few more were included, “Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N.” They said and you smiled, Gerard next to you smiling as well as the cameras flashed to the two of you.

“And the award goes to...” It took them a few moments to open the card, your heart beginning to race. You grabbed onto Gerard’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and him squeezing back as your eyes went wide in anticipation, breaths caught in your throats.

“Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N!” You heard cheering as you let out both a breath and a huge smile. You stood up with Gerard, who was already standing and clapping as you gave him a hug, him immediately hugging you back and giving you a kiss on the lips as the cheers continued. You only stayed for a few seconds before smiling at him again, and running up to the stage to the best of your abilities.

You hugged the two announcers as they handed you your very own Grammy. You looked at it only for a brief moment, holding it while you walked up to the mic. “Okay, so this is absolutely insane.” You sighed as a few people began laughing. “This is my first Grammy ever, and to even be able to be nominated for something like this was enough for me. But winning is beyond my wildest dreams.” You took a brief pause to actually breathe, “I want to thank all my friends and family who let me follow my passions and dreams of being a musician, I would like to thank my wonderful fiancee and muse who, without him, this song and no other song on that album would have been written. And I would like to thank every single fan who has stuck by me through thick and thin. You guys are what keeps me running every day and give me motivation to keep pushing my music further even when it may seem like I can’t, or it’s impossible. This is just so crazy, but thank you everyone!” You smiled as the cheers re-erupted, the trophy being taken away from your temporarily.

You found yourself right back in your loving fiancees arms before sitting back down. “You just won a Grammy.” He sat in awe and began lightly laughing, “You just won a Grammy!” “I know!” You responded, too in shock. “I really hope you do realize I couldn’t have ever done it without you though.” You smiled at him.

“Oh, please,” He scoffed, “You’re a musical genius. You could easily do anything without me.” “But you’re my muse!” You defended.

“Which is extremely flattering, thank you.” He gave you a peck on the lips, “But seriously, you deserve every inch of that award. You worked hard for it. You deserve it.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” “Oh, not nearly as incredible as you darling.” By the end of the night, you had managed to do what almost no other artist had done. Won 10 Grammys in one night.

You stood on the large red carpet, dozens of Grammy logos behind you as you yourself held 10 trophies, stacked on one another, up to your chin. You smiled at all the cameras, flashing from a million different directions, your name being yelled over and over as they tried to get your attention.

Finally, you got the okay to walk off, a few people helping to retrieve your awards, which would later get your name engraved into them. At the end, behind everyone and all the chaos was your manager and Gerard, who both stood and smiled at you. You ran into his arms, giving him a tight hug as he gave you one back.

“I’m so proud of you.” He smiled down at you, your height difference pretty visible.

“Thank you.” You smiled like a fool giving you a quick kiss.

“I can’t believe it, Y/N,” Your managed spoke, “You did it!” You nodded and gave him, too, a hug. “This is huge. I mean, absolutely huge!” You nodded. “You set a record, you have 10 Grammys, I mean-” “It feels too good to be true.” You commented and he nodded. “Are you two heading to any of the after parties?” You shook your head, “I assumed not.” He smiled, “Which actually makes my life easier because I don’t have to go and monitor either.” You lightly laughed, “Well you two go home, and relax. Have some fun, but not too much fun.” He smirked.

“Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes and waved as you and Gerard went to the back entrance to be picked up by a driver who was taking you back to your LA home.

Gerard opened the front door, letting you in first, and closing it once he got in. You slipped off your shoes with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna go upstairs, take off my makeup and all.” You lightly smiled at him. “I’ll come with you.” He smiled back. The two of you ran up the stairs like foolish teenagers in love, stumbling from one stair to another before reaching the top floor and running to the master bedroom, Gerard shutting the door eagerly behind you.

He immediately ran up to you after that, giving you a long and passionate kiss. You melted into him, letting him gently push you onto the plush bed. “So we’re on the same page?” You pulled away for a brief moment to catch some air. He lightly laughed.

“Yeah, babe.” He went right back to his assault on your lips, moving down to your neck and collarbone, finding your sweet spot quickly where you let out a loud moan. “Gee,” You begged and he hummed.

“Yes, baby doll?” He inquired, looking up to you from where he continued to plant kisses on your collar bone.

“Please.” Your strained and needy voice sounded.

“Please, what, baby?” He teased you a bit and you lightly huffed.

“Just fuck me.” You said with confidence this time.

“Your wish is my command.”

That led you to laying beside him, your body covered in both his and your own sweat. His arm was tightly wrapped around you as he played with your hair. He gave you a quick kiss. “Where’re you going?” You whined. He looked back and lightly laughed.

“To clean you up, sugar.” He lightly smiled, walking into the en suite. “I don’t deserve you.” You muttered and smiled, pulling the duvet over your bare body.

“I could say the same for you.” He smiled, coming back with a towel. “You’re just too damn perfect.” He sighed.

“Oh, c’mon Gee, don’t lie to you or me.”

“I mean it,” He climbed into bed next to you, “You are perfect.”

“Sure,” You sighed, he leaned in and gave you a kiss.

“I’m going to work my entire damn life to make you understand you’re perfect if I have to.” You placed your head on his shoulder.

“I love you.” You smiled up at him.

“I love you too.” He smiled back.

“Now can we get Chinese food.” He lightly laughed.

“Yes, of course.” He got up, wrapping himself in a towel, “And then watch Star Wars?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah, what else we would watch?” “I don’t know,” He sighed, “A horror movie-” “I don’t like those, Gee.” You whined.

“I know,” He smiled, “That’s why we don’t watch them.” You got up yourself, taking part of a throw blanket to cover yourself as you walked into your walk in closet, grabbing your Star Wars PJs.

“Gee,” You called into his closet, “You better be wearing your-” “Star Wars PJs? Yeah, I know.” He walked out with them on, and you with yours.

“Perfect.” You smiled and he wrapped an arm around you.

“You know I am so proud of you, right?” He looked over at you as you were walking down the stairs. You smiled, blushing and involuntarily covering your face with your sleeves to hide it. “Oh c’mon! I wanna see your pretty face.” He complained.

“Thanks.” You looked up at him lightly, still shying away from the praise.

“C’mere sugar.” He opened up your arms which you walked in as he held you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “You really are perfect. Too perfect, but perfect.”

[carewyncromwell]

Next Cinderella AU part ahoy!

Conical hats were actually considered very fashionable during the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance. What’s fascinating, however, is how they evolved into two very distinct and oddly opposing styles of hat: the stereotypical “Pilgrim” hat and the pointed hat that witches are generally depicted wearing! Around the turn of the 17th century, the most stylish variation of black conical hat was called the capotain, which is a cone, but with a rounded top -- the hat McGonagall wears in that top sketch is one of these types of hats (her dress is based on this design, which also features a shorter version of the capotain). The hats were originally fashionable among both men and women, but over time, one group of women that was most associated with wearing them were Quakers, a branch of Christianity that broke away from the Church of England and advocated quite liberated views for the era, such as the abolition of slavery, women’s rights, and a refusal to involve themselves in war. They also passionately believed that one didn’t have to attend church in order to be close to God and that one could practice one’s faith out in the world by living and dressing modestly and being active in charity work. (To learn more about the history of how the conical hat evolved into our modern image of “the witch hat,” check out this awesome fashion history video on the subject.) As one can expect, Quakers and Quaker women in particular were not well-taken-to by a lot of European society, especially by the religious movement on the opposite site of the political scale in Britain, the uber-conservative, Bible-purist Puritans. Many of these same Puritan-types got very involved in hunting witches both in Europe and in the Americas (the Salem Witch Trials are a perfect example). But yes...if one looks up pictures of historical clothing for Puritan men and/or “the Pilgrims” (A.K.A. the group of Americans that colonized Plymouth, who were Puritans), they very often wore a variation of the capotain! Although it’s been theorized by historians that the capotains worn by Quaker women ended up being associated with sin and therefore witchcraft, similar hats were also worn by the men who persecuted them. The hats were worn by both sides -- victim and accuser -- and yet most of us today look at the capotain and immediately think “witch” exclusively. Talk about irony.

Greensleeves is often ascribed as being commissioned by King Henry VIII for his second wife, Anne Boleyn (even Six the Musical references this)...but it actually was written in the later half of the 16th century, when Anne’s daughter Elizabeth I was Queen. So yeah, that’s sadly just an old wives tale. But it is a lovely song! The melody for Greensleeves has been remarkably long-lasting, even being rewritten as multiple Christmas songs over the centuries, including the still popular What Child is This?, which was written in 1865.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn very quickly threw on her mother’s green-sleeved yellow dress and as many warm wool petticoats as she could before fetching her white horse from the palace stable. She rode up through the gate in exactly twenty-five minutes, to find Orion on his black mare waiting for her. Carewyn was ready to ask Orion if everything was all right, but almost as soon as they’d left the perimeter of the gate, Orion urged his horse into a fast gallop.

“Come, my lady,” he cried over his shoulder, “let us chase that horizon!”

Carewyn had to send her horse charging forward in its own gallop to catch up with him. They rode right through the market and then out of the capitol altogether -- they avoided the road that led toward the Cromwell estate, dashing eastward. They weaved in and out of the rolling snow-capped hills, riding beside and around each other. The freedom of riding alone was enough to bring some life back into Orion’s cheeks, and Carewyn despite herself soon found herself smiling.

When they came to a stop at the top of a hill close to the northern border, Orion looked out over the edge with a handsome, endless gleam in his eye, like that of a sailor looking out to sea. Carewyn once again prepared to ask Orion if he was all right...but once again, Orion dodged the question.

“Do you see that eagle, overhead?” asked Orion.

Carewyn looked up. She did -- it was a truly handsome golden eagle, gliding in a circle through the air over their heads.

“I’ve seen eagles just like that nearly every day, up and down the border,” said Orion. “Shall we see if we can ride fast enough to overtake it in flight? Could we take flight as birds do, without ever spreading wings?”

“Orion...”

Carewyn brought a hand gently down on his arm.

“I know there’s something wrong,” she whispered.

Orion looked at her, his expression losing most of its levity and becoming much blanker and more inscrutable again.

“I understand if you can’t tell me,” she insisted softly. Her blue eyes rested on her own hand on his arm rather than his face -- with the intense concern she felt, she didn’t dare expose them further by looking straight into his eyes. “And I truly don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Your secrets are your own, and I know you have a reason for them.”

Just as I have mine.

“I only...I can tell you’re running from something...maybe even the thing you’ve being running from, every time you’ve come to see me, all these weeks...and I don’t know what to do, to protect you from what you’re so afraid of. Please...tell me what I can do.”

Orion’s black eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, rippling with many tiny flickers of emotion that were hard to properly identify -- pain? Affection? Anxiety? Evasiveness? Shame? Longing? Who knew?

At last the Prince of Florence brought a hand out to gingerly rest on top of Carewyn’s on his arm.

“Chase that eagle with me,” he said softly.

Carewyn looked up at Orion and then at the eagle overhead as it soared off toward the nearby woods. Then she gave him a small, sad smile and nodded.

“...All right.”

Dislodging herself from Orion, Carewyn steadied her grip on her horse’s reins and flicked them to make it gallop toward the woods.

“Well, come on, then!” she called over her shoulder with the strongest smile she could. “T’would be a shame if I out-rode you in a challenge you set yourself!”

Orion’s face broke out into a brighter, fond smile and he pursued her.

The two rode their horses down the hill and into the trees. Racing side by side, overtaking each other in their strides and then catching up again -- all while Orion smiled so fully and handsomely, and looked at her with such blazing midnight-black eyes -- was a joy that Carewyn had trouble putting into proper words. His expression was full of such silent, and yet unbridled joy -- free, in every sense of the word.

“You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion’s words returned to her. “Free.”

You should be allowed to feel like that too, Orion, thought Carewyn. You deserve to feel this free all the time.

The two rode with speed until they’d finally lost sight of the beautiful golden eagle. Slowing their horses into a calmer trot, they then journeyed through the trees, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the chirping birds and the pools of sunlight scattered across the muddy, snow-dusted ground.

“I’ve never been out this far before,” Carewyn confessed, her almond-shaped blue eyes trailing over the interlaced branches overhead.

Orion looked at her out the side of his eye. “...This close to the border, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Carewyn caught a strange scent in the distance -- something vaguely like the fires she’d tend to back at the castle and the Cromwell estate.

“...Something’s burning...”

Orion nodded solemnly. “Bonfires. The Royaumanian and Florentine camps aren’t far from here.”

Carewyn looked at Orion, slightly startled. His gaze had wandered northward, but it was clear his mind was far from the trees his eyes were idly resting on.

“We’re near the war front?” asked Carewyn softly.

“Yes...” Orion glanced her out the side of his eye. “...Are you frightened?”

“No,” said Carewyn.

She looked through the trees in the direction Orion had been facing.

Jacob could be over there right now, she thought to herself. The idea of seeing her brother for the first time in nine years -- of hugging him again and seeing his relieved smile -- it made her feel like her heart was being squeezed.

Orion’s black eyes scanned her longing, but fearless face, before shifting back in the direction of the trees that obscured the path toward the war front.

“The scales are going to shift again, soon,” he whispered. He could feel Carewyn’s eyes on him again. “The two sides have constantly fought for dominance...lashing out ruthlessly and then retaliating, back and forth, until they’re forced to come to a stalemate, just to catch their breath. Then one lashes out again, and the precarious balance is thrown to the winds once more...”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with concern. “Orion...is something bad about to happen, out there?”

Orion closed his eyes. His father claimed he needed him, in order to lead the Florentine army in the two-pronged attack on Royaume...but it wasn’t unlikely that the King might make do and find someone else to fill that role...

“Hopefully not,” he said softly.

Carewyn reached out a hand and took hold of Orion’s wrist. Orion looked down at her hand and then up at her face -- she had trouble looking at him, but he could tell her eyes were rippling with concern. His heart felt like it was suddenly being harshly compressed, just to fit inside of his chest.

You wish to protect me from what I fear...but what I fear, I should wish to protect you from.

The King’s words returned to his mind.

“When you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

But how could he hope to protect Carewyn from the War and the cost it would demand? How could he hope to stop it, when his own father unknowingly would be sabotaging his efforts for peace? How could he live with himself, if he had to chain himself to the War the way the King had -- to fight against the Royaumanians he’d met and broken bread with as equals?

Orion took several deep breaths before speaking again.

“...My father wishes me to join him, at the front,” he admitted lowly.

Carewyn looked up, startled. “...Your father’s in the army?”

“Yes,” said Orion. “He’s...a high-ranking officer. He expects that I will follow his example and lead our ranks into battle.”

Carewyn considered Orion for a moment. “...You don’t want to.”

Orion’s eyes darkened significantly. “...I don’t want to.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, he pressed on.

“My father believes that the War can only be ended through force -- that justice can be only brought about by utterly destroying our enemy. But...I cannot believe that. I grew up on the border between Florence and Royaume. The town I’m from is so close that one could hop easily from one to the other. It caused some tensions, yes...but it also made it so that at first meeting, or even third or fourth, you never knew what side of the divide a person was on. And so I found myself constantly thinking...what is it that truly separates us? Is it morality? Is it values? Humanity? And yet I don’t think either side can boast having any of those things exclusively. It instead all comes back to a mistake made fifty years ago -- a land dispute that ended more violently than it should have. So many people have died, all because of that...and because neither King has decided to be the better man and choose forgiveness over vengeance.”

Orion bowed his head, his eyes closing solemnly.

“...My father asked me to help him lead the army, in an upcoming attack on the enemy forces -- one that he believes could end the War once and for all. But...”

He exhaled quietly through his nose.

“...I couldn’t accept that burden...so I left.”

Carewyn didn’t respond. Orion scanned her face, trying to read her reaction, but it was proving difficult when she wouldn’t look at him.

Does she...disapprove? he couldn’t help but think. She did think he was Royaumanian -- she didn’t understand that he wanted to protect her brother, not prevent him from returning home...but how could he explain that to her, without...?

“I know that the War could end, if my father’s strategy succeeds,” Orion explained, trying to keep his voice level despite the anxiety he felt, “but this is only one strategy of hundreds, all of which have failed. And even if our side was victorious...however many lives I could potentially save by fighting, I would be snuffing out far more. I realize that this is my responsibility alone, and sometimes one must be willing to do what others will not, to reach their goal...but flowers bloom under sunlight and water, not blood. If we could avoid burning a forest to the ground, wouldn’t it then be easier to bring it back to life?”

“Yes...but if someone wants to set a forest ablaze, you have to act if you want to stop them.”

Carewyn’s response was very soft and solemn, but there was no anger or disapproval -- instead, to Orion’s immense relief, it sounded almost encouraging.

“If you believe that Royaume could make peace with Florence, then you need to speak out for it,” she said firmly. “If you see it and believe in it, that’s great...but you need to make others see and believe in it too, if it’s going to really come about. Talk to your father, make him see things as you do -- and if he isn’t able to, then...well, I’ll talk to Andre, and you and he can discuss it together.”

Her lips spread into a gentle smile and she gave his wrist a light squeeze.

“My own family may have profited because of the War, but the people of Royaume, the common man, would celebrate, if peace could come about without further loss. If Florence would also, then that’s a step in the right direction. There’s more than one way to fight for something...all it requires is enough courage to place one’s goal over whatever risks stand in their way.”

Orion stared at Carewyn for a long moment. As he did, the black of his eyes seemed to melt, gaining a warmer, softer light that resembled candlelight rippling in endless, dark water.

“...Carewyn...”

Before he could say anything more, however, there was a loud explosion in the distance. Carewyn’s horse reared back in terror, which in turn spooked Orion’s, and both Carewyn and Orion had to quickly calm their steeds.

“Whoa, whoa,” Carewyn whispered in her horse’s ear, “easy, boy...it’s all right...”

Orion stroked his horse’s mane with a slightly trembling hand, breathing in and out as he tried to steady his heart rate. He then looked at Carewyn with a more serious eye.

“...Perhaps we should make our way back to the valley. It’s not safe here.”

Carewyn looked northward through the trees again. “Do you think your father’s started the attack?”

“No. Coordinated attacks require both strategy and assignments, as well as the element of surprise. I’d say this is a skirmish between younger, less experienced soldiers -- and if so, it’s likely to run farther afield and cause damage outside the designated battlefield.”

Orion could see Carewyn still hesitating. Although there was no fear in her face, she seemed reluctant to leave -- likely thinking of her brother, more than the risk to her own safety...

After a brief flicker of uncertainty, Orion reached out a hand and took hold of Carewyn’s arm not unlike how she’d taken his earlier.

“From everything I’ve heard from you about your brother, I truly cannot see him not doing everything he possibly can, to look out for your well-being...including looking after himself.”

A second smaller explosion in the distance made Orion stiffen slightly, his fingers tightening that bit around Carewyn’s arm.

“...We should move out of harm’s way,” he said as levelly as he could.

Seeing the paleness of Orion’s face, Carewyn relented at once.

“Yes.”

Bringing a hand up onto Orion’s horse’s reins, she directed both of them around so they could start riding back out the way they came.

As they came around a cluster of trees, however, their attention was caught by the sound of the cry of an eagle and many snapping branches. Carewyn’s horse reared back again, just barely dodging a large clump of golden-brown feathers that collided sharply with the ground.

Carewyn once again rushed to soothe her horse. Orion quickly climbed off his horse and bent down to get a better look at what had fallen.

It was a golden eagle, just as brilliant as the one they’d chased into the wood -- perhaps even the same one. It was conscious, but clearly in pain when it tried to return to the air -- its left wing crumpled up against its side and covered in blood and what looked like grayish ash.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed.

“Gunpowder,” he said. “The poor creature’s wing must have been struck by a stray bullet.”

Once she’d successfully soothed her white horse, Carewyn likewise jumped off its back. She dashed over to Orion, hitching up the skirt of her mother’s gown as she went.

“Can you hold him?” she asked.

The eagle gave an angry-sounding cry, baring its sharp talons at both of them, and it tried to hobble away back into the air with its one good wing.

“I don’t think he wants our help,” said Orion.

Undaunted, Carewyn ripped off some fabric from her outer-most petticoat. “Well, he needs it, whether he wants it or not. Can you hold him, please?”

Orion looked at the eagle. Rather than try to grab it, he met the eagle’s eyes and tried not to blink. The eagle looked back at him with a piercing gaze. When Orion extended a hand, the eagle lashed out its talons again -- Orion withdrew, but didn’t flinch.

“Steady,” he said gently.

He waited a moment, keeping eye contact with the bird, and then tried again. This time he was able to move close enough to touch before the eagle lashed out with its claws again.

“Peace,” said Orion patiently. “We mean you no harm, feathered friend.”

Another loud explosion in the distance made both the eagle and Orion flinch.

“That one sounded closer,” said Carewyn, her voice faintly tense but as gentle as she could. “We need to be quick.”

The flames of his childhood home were returning to Orion’s mind despite his best efforts, and he shut them out as best he could, closing his eyes and breathing in and out several times. Once he’d reestablished his focus, Orion opened his eyes again.

The eagle looked from Orion to Carewyn almost critically. Finally, after Orion reached in for a third time, it let the Prince run a gentle hand over its back. Once the bird was calm, Orion then carefully extended its wing so that Carewyn could reach it.

“This will likely hurt him a little,” Carewyn told Orion. “Please hold him still, so he won’t fly away.”

Orion brought a hand around the eagle, which fidgeted and cried out indignantly, but did not claw or snap at them. With Orion holding out its wing, Carewyn was able to reach into its blood-soaked feathers and dislodge the bullet. The eagle gave an angry, pained cry, and Carewyn very quickly set about wrapping up the wound with the white fabric she’d ripped out of her petticoat.

“There,” breathed Carewyn, her red lips spreading into a smile. “That should help...”

The bird looked down at its wing, gingerly folding up against its side as it surveyed her with a very beady eye. With a soft click of her tongue against her teeth, she slowly extended an arm out, holding it very still like a branch.

“Climb on,” she cooed. “That’s it...”

The eagle peered Carewyn over, but after a long moment, it gradually scooted over and leapt up onto her arm. Its talons dug into the sleeve of her dress with strength, and it was heavier than Carewyn expected, but she with some difficulty just barely managed to hoist it up.

“Your talent with animals shines through again,” said Orion with a wry smile, clasping his hands lightly in front of him.

“You weren’t half bad yourself,” Carewyn said amusedly. She brought a hand gently along the eagle’s comb. “You’re a very handsome bird, aren’t you? You poor thing...”

“You there!”

Both Orion and Carewyn looked up in great surprise.

Striding through the woods toward them was a very tall middle-aged woman. She wore a black capotain hat and an old-fashioned black dress with a white ruff around the collar, and her graying brown hair was tied up in an austere looking bun under her hat. Despite her apparent age, her step was strong and her posture as straight as a general’s. 

“What are you doing here?” said the woman very sternly.

Carewyn stood a bit uneasily, thanks to the weight of the eagle on her arm, but she nonetheless straightened up, resting a hand on the eagle’s back almost protectively.

“We’re merely out riding, madam,” she said, not impolitely, but still confidently.

The woman peered down at both Orion and Carewyn with an eye almost as critical as the eagle’s had been as she crossed her arms. Her height made it so she towered over both of them with relative ease.

“Well, through your riding, you have trespassed on my land,” she said stiffly. “And it seems you’ve claimed something of mine.”

Her eyes flickered over to the eagle on Carewyn’s arm, taking in the makeshift bandage on its wing. The golden eagle gave a loud shriek -- the woman extended her arm, and it leapt the distance, landing on her arm instead. The older woman did not struggle to hold it up the way Carewyn had.

Carewyn blinked in surprise. “Then...he’s yours?”

“Do you have others, like him?” Orion asked curiously.

The woman peered down at the bird on her arm with a look that was rather like a scolding, but still affectionate mother’s. “No -- he’s one of a kind. All the more reason why I’m pleased to see him safe, after coming so close to the enemy camp.”

The eagle bowed its head, its gaze flickering back over toward Carewyn and Orion. When another cluster of explosions rang out through the air, however, both the bird and Orion straightened up abruptly.

The woman looked northward, and then beckoned Carewyn and Orion after her with her hand.

“Come with me -- with the armies positioned just north of us and a band of Florentine bandits just south, the safest place at present to wait out this skirmish is my home.”

The woman introduced herself as the Baroness Minerva McGonagall. Carewyn felt like the surname was familiar somehow, but she couldn’t quite place it in her memory. Regardless, McGonagall led Carewyn and Orion out through the trees. Only once they crossed the perimeter of the trees and McGonagall gestured toward the valley below did Carewyn and Orion see her country estate. It was odd that they didn’t spot it sooner, for although the valley seemed to cradle the small chateau, it was a rather beautiful and open estate framed by a wrought iron gate. The property itself was made of aged brick and stone with stained glass windows and overgrown with ice-trimmed ivy.

After holding out her arm so that the eagle perched there could jump down on the railing beside the stone stairs that led up to the front door, the Baroness invited Orion and Carewyn inside. As stern as she’d first appeared, she actually was a very kind host -- after Orion and Carewyn’s horses were settled in her stable, she escorted the two into the dining hall, where she served them some rose water and ginger biscuits. Once inside the house, none of them could hear the explosions from the battlefield -- it was as though the walls cancelled out all sounds from outside even though they must’ve been so close.

Seeing that the Baroness had no servants to help her, Carewyn insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen and washing them, so as to thank the older woman for her hospitality. Despite being reluctant to accept the help at first, McGonagall eventually accepted it, her lips upturned in a rather dewy smile as Carewyn left the dining hall.

“Your riding companion has a very kind heart, Your Highness,” she said, once Carewyn was out of earshot.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“...You know me.”

"Naturally,” said McGonagall. “You do very much resemble your grandfather -- and your father as well, I expect.”

“You knew my grandfather?”

“We met once, a very long time ago,” said McGonagall rather curtly. “Your name would also be Cosimo, correct?”

“I am called Orion,” said the Prince, his level voice dusted with the slightest edge. “By both my lady, and otherwise.”

McGonagall’s eyes grew a little smaller. “She comes from the Cromwell family, doesn’t she?”

Orion’s eyes narrowed that little bit more, but he did not reply.

“I suspected it due to her eyes,” said McGonagall, “but with how gentle they were, I wasn’t sure.”

Her eyebrows rose over her narrowed eyes as she leaned forward slightly and rested her elbows on the table.

“You have quite a predicament before you, Orion,” she said dryly, interlacing her fingers beside her chin.

Orion clasped his hands on the table in front of him, considering the Baroness carefully.

“Yet you decided not to approach me about it until Carewyn left the room,” he said levelly. “Is it because you suspected I knew your true identity, and why your house has been so miraculously shielded from the War raging on your doorstep?”

McGonagall peered at Orion over her hands with something like wry amusement. “Florentines are generally more favorable toward magic than Royaumanians. And considering your grandfather shielded my family after my mother accidentally killed the King and we fled across the border...well, it would be in-character for you, especially.”

“And yet you returned to the land that the King of Royaume had died trying to claim?” asked Orion. “Why?”

McGonagall gave a dismissive shrug. “It was our home. Even if we had to cast and recast illusions every day to prevent anyone else from finding it again, that was a cost we were willing to pay. And one I’m still willing to pay today, to protect those who live here.”

McGonagall’s eyes were drawn to the hallway -- a young man with tanned skin and a sharp nose had just paused in the door frame of the dining hall. His arm was in a makeshift sling and wrapped with what looked like bandages made out of petticoat fabric. When Orion turned around, the young man stared him down with just as beady of a look as the golden eagle from before had.

“The skirmish has ended, Baroness,” the man said brusquely.

“I hope you haven’t determined that by casting any more transfiguration spells, my young apprentice,” said McGonagall with a slightly reproachful look.

The apprentice’s nose wrinkled sourly. “No. The explosions have just stopped -- they probably decided it wasn’t worth trying to fire their cannons blindly in the dark.”

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Orion, you and Carewyn may leave when you wish. Though I would recommend you steer clear of the border. The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you...but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

Orion nodded. “I understand.”

“Make sure you bring her back to the palace safely,” said the apprentice, his eagle-like eyes still rather critical upon Orion. “It’s the least you can do, considering she doesn’t know the extent of the risk she’s taking, interacting with you.”

He swept down the hallway and out of sight, still holding his arm. Orion was a bit surprised that the Baroness’s apprentice knew where Carewyn worked -- but then, he recalled, he’d seen an eagle flying over his and Carewyn’s heads once, while they were walking through the market together, hadn’t he? Might it have been this man then, as well -- as it likely had, every time he’d seen an eagle while crossing the border?

McGonagall looked back at Orion, her expression a bit more solemn. “I understand your rationale behind not telling her of your identity, Orion...but remember -- deception is just like any magical spell. Even the most powerful ones in the world don’t last long.”

Orion bowed his head. “...I know.”

He knew none of this could last. He knew that once Carewyn knew who he was, everything between them would change, whether he wanted it to or not. He did think that Carewyn would understand -- he desperately hoped so -- but even so, it was sad to him, knowing that his happy times with Carewyn were doomed to be so fleeting...

“I just...want to enjoy my time with her as long as I can,” said Orion softly. “However fleeting it might be...even when it is over...at least then I can cherish the memory of those moments forever.”

McGonagall’s face grew a bit gentler, almost sympathetic. "I see...”

Carewyn returned at that moment, wiping her bangs out of her eyes with her arm.

“Orion,” she said, “it looks like the stars have come out.”

Orion looked out the window. The sky was dark with night and shining with stars.

“So they have,” he said with a soft smile. He turned to McGonagall. “Forgive me, Baroness...but might we sit in the valley outside your home for a short while, before we leave?”

McGonagall smiled. “Of course.”

Orion and Carewyn found a grassy spot in the crest of the valley where they could sit and look up at the stars. Upon learning that Carewyn hadn’t ever gone stargazing before, Orion lay back against the grass and pointed out each constellation above them to Carewyn in turn -- the hero Perseus, his enemy the Cetus, and his future wife Andromeda -- -- the divine twins, Castor and Pollux, otherwise known as a pair as Gemini -- and the queen Cassiopeia, which made Carewyn laugh, thinking of her friend, KC. Carewyn loved listening to Orion’s stories: the way he would vividly embellish every detail and go off on philosophical tangents in the middle was oddly endearing. After he told his first tale about Perseus, Carewyn was reminded of the Song of Roland, an epic about a similarly grand hero, and soon Orion would ask her to sing something in response to every story he told, however weak the connection was. When they reached Cassiopeia’s tale, Carewyn sang one of her favorite songs, Greensleeves.

“I have been ready at your hand To grant whatever thou would’st crave; I have waged both life and land, Your love and goodwill for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy; Greensleeves was my delight; Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my lady Greensleeves...”

As before, Orion found himself closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of Carewyn’s voice washing over him. At the end of this song in particular, however, when he opened his eyes, he found himself chuckling softly.

Carewyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Orion’s black eyes were sparkling like two miniature night skies as they ran over Carewyn sitting just below him. “It’s a lovely song, as always...but I have not ever seen my ‘star twin,’ so to speak, wearing green -- only ever black and blue. You, however...”

He took her hand so that he could extend her arm out like they were dancing, showing off the olive green sleeves of her dress.

“So it seems you are ‘my lady Greensleeves,’” said Orion with a wry smile.

“Oh, stop it,” Carewyn huffed, her cheeks burning as she withdrew her hand.

Orion laughed fully. It was the first time Carewyn had ever heard him laugh so openly before -- it was a soft sound in the back of his throat, like a chuckle, and yet so much brighter and warmer. Despite herself, Carewyn couldn’t fight back a full smile of her own. Her shoulder brushed up against Orion’s as she reclined back onto the grass, her body tilting slightly toward him as she looked up at the sky.

“...There’s a constellation called Orion, isn’t there?”

Orion smiled and traced the stars of the constellation with his finger. “Just there. Do you see his chest? And there’s his bow.”

“I see it!” said Carewyn excitedly. “His arm is arched back, right?”

“Yes -- he’s holding a club in his other hand. He was a great hunter, you see -- the greatest hunter, they say, aside from Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. Some say that he hunted alongside her. Others say she was his one and only love...and that she, likewise, never loved any other man, in all her days.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, Orion looked down at her. She was considering the constellation very carefully, looking oddly deep in thought.

Orion tilted his head to look better at her face. “Your eyes resemble a dark pool.”

Carewyn looked up, startled.

“They’re so deep and mysterious, I hardly know what is within them,” said Orion. “Yet I would dearly like to know, if you were willing to share their contents.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted back up to the sky uncomfortably.

“It’s just...I’m realizing that I don’t even know if Orion is your real name,” she murmured. “You said I could call you it...you did not say it was your name.”

Orion’s face became grimmer. His hands clasped over his chest and he too looked back up at the sky.

“...It’s not the name I was born with,” he admitted. “I chose the name myself, when I was young.”

The memory of the older boys at the workhouse shoving him, piling extra work on him, and mockingly bowing whenever he walked by rippled over his mind.

“Clear the floor for the Prince!”

“Why thank you, Prince Cosimo -- you’re too kind!”

“Does the mud add flavor, your Royal Highness?”

“When I was at the workhouse, my name...antagonized the other boys. So, to try to preempt the reactions, I started avoiding telling anyone my name. I would dread anyone ever asking.”

“Like when I asked you?” whispered Carewyn. Even though her eyes were averted, she was clearly very ashamed and upset.

Orion leaned against her slightly, offering her a gentle, reassuring expression. “No, Carewyn. I dreaded it when I had no answer I could give at all. It made me anxious...made me feel like I didn’t know who I was supposed to be...made it difficult for me to interact with much of anyone at all.”

He closed his eyes.

“But...after hearing the tale of the great hunter whose skill put him on the same level as a goddess...I decided that was who I’d be. I’d chase my dreams with just as much single-minded focus -- be just as free and strong of a man, by fighting the monster inside of myself.”

Carewyn looked up at Orion, her eyes rippling with sadness. “The monster inside of yourself?”

“Mm,” said Orion. “Mine is a frenetic beast. It makes it hard for me to think, act, or even breathe, when it’s particularly intense. It makes me question absolutely everything, including myself. It shouts so many things in my ears so loudly that I can’t move or react properly, and I have to break away from everything and everyone, just to silence it. Sometimes it even brings back bad memories that make the experience even worse.”

Carewyn was once again avoiding his eye, but it was largely because she was having trouble keeping her face stoic.

“...It’s terrible, when you feel like you can’t do anything,” she said lowly.

Orion didn’t speak. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough to continue -- after a silence, she finally pressed on.

“When Jacob first went off to War...I felt so helpless. So...alone. And worse...I felt like that’s how I should be. Like I should be alone, and empty, and cold, and in pain, when Jacob was off at War suffering, while I’m stuck here.”

Her eyes darkened.

“There are times when...I think I still should be. Sometimes...well, it’s all the time.”

She closed her eyes, exhaled heavily through her nose, and then looked up at Orion with a firmer expression.

“...But I know I can’t afford to sit around and feel sorry for myself -- not when I need to be strong, for Jacob’s sake. So I don’t.”

Orion’s black eyes softened visibly, rippling with empathy. “No...you certainly don’t.”

He paused. His eyes ran over Carewyn’s face, trailing through her hair hesitantly.

“Carewyn...” he said at last, very softly, “may I...?”

He swallowed.

“...May I rest my head, on top of yours?”

Carewyn’s face broke into a very sweet, tender smile.

“Of course,” she murmured.

Orion shifted over and, very tentatively, leaned back against the grass so that Carewyn’s head rested in the crook of his neck and his cheek rested against the top of her head. He closed his eyes -- she felt so warm...

“I...realize that the beasts inside of us are ours alone to face,” said Orion softly, “but...should you need a hunter to help you beat yours back...I will be here.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with emotion as she stared up at Orion’s face. Her red lips slowly turned up in a smile that was full of pain, and yet also fuller still of love.

“And I will always help you fight yours,” she whispered. “If you need me...I will fight for you.”

Orion’s expression cleared, losing all tension as a smile pricked at the corners of his lips. He breathed deeply, his heart slowing to a wonderful peaceful beat as he took in the smell of her hair. Carewyn watched his serene, handsome face, and she found herself moving into him that bit more, just to get a better view. For that moment, it felt like the whole world outside wasn’t there -- that the War and the palace and the Cromwell clan and everything she was and wasn’t didn’t even exist...and in that moment, Carewyn realized...

If she was ever truly free, she would want to love the man called Orion with all of her heart.

[into-control]

which songs in romance do you think is really about lauren?-all of em// Girl what??? I mean you do you but first man?? It doesn't say ''the only man''. It says the first man who loved her was her dad and then another man came into her life. It would be weird if it was actually written about a woman tbh. I feel like it's a baiting song for daughters to cry to. Also DOY. None of the things she sings about apply to L in any way. This is definitely a narrative song for ew. UTT too, but for Shawn.

i’ll be honest with you i forgot that first man is a song that actually exists when i answered that, but my take is that it can either easily be a very straight washed version of a situation that could have happened with camila’s family and lauren, or it could just be a PR song.

some of these songs you just have to really listen to them. you need to ignore the one liners that don’t perfectly match up to lauren’s character. it’s what closeted singers do to get away with writing about their secret lovers. no lauren isn’t a bad dancer, but she IS a shy singer on occasion, she IS an overthinker, she IS camila’s right answer, she is—you know—probably a slow kisser.

i mean, to me it doesn’t make sense that camila would be asking her publicly known boyfriend that was always with her during the duration of their relationship if he dreams of her too, because it would be assumed they were literally sleeping next to each other every night. to me it’s about a long distance relationship that has been forced into complete secrecy, and camila is looking for reassurance from this person—lauren—that she really does love her, and dreams of her just like camila does when they’re apart for long periods of time and sleeping in different beds in different cities. because camila is not with lauren every day, she spends the whole day through dreaming of her instead.

not to mention, being a confessed sinner in the presence of camila is a very gay thing to say. like. lauren wrote a whole song about giving into sin and calling herself a sinner for a woman and camila wrote a whole song with a music video about giving into sin for a woman somebody.

also, camila was working on this damn song for so long that she teased it before the beach pics of her and ew even came out, and lauren basically joined in on the teasing, especially in the last two pics.

used to this was obviously marketed to be *the* showmila song, but it’s another camren song to me. it’s one of my favourites actually. sure, maybe there are a few PR lines like the san fran one but that easily could’ve been written about an experience with lauren during one of 5h’s many times to SF and used as a showmila line by making them do a stunt there where their kiss is conveniently caught on camera.

to me used to this is about lauren and camila’s second (or third idk) try at their relationship. camila spent so much time in a state of uncertainty with lauren that had her talking to the moon, but this time—which i consider the current one—things are different and it’s something camila wants to and can get used to. i think this is evident within so many lyrics in this song. camila actually stays with lauren past midnight, and because of that she’s whispering lauren’s name differently than ever before. camila’s heart is bleeding because lauren is asking her to stay for once. camila says that her and her lover were 17 when they started to fall, but they *lost it all*. this contrasts so greatly with the rest of the song that it tells me this isn’t their first try.

camila and shawn, within their very confusing narrative, don’t have that kind of history. they never acted on their feelings in any capacity until last june/july, and they were never 17 at the same time either. used to this is about a relationship with rocky past that was more about the physical feeling than what it actually meant, but has turned over a new leaf.

you’re allowed to have your opinions about these songs too, but i thought i’d share my thought process because you seemed curious