#I wrote notes for how I want chapter 17 to start

[imekitty]

Today I worked on:

Star Error: 171 words

Last paragraph written:

“But how would you feel if you found out the ghost boy wasn’t who you thought he was?” asked Star. “I mean, what if you found out he’s really just…a freak? A loser?”

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. 

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say. 

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him. 

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this. 

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay. 

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look. 

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what. 

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him. 

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval. 

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori. 

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him. 

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild. 

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

 Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe. 

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit. 

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator. 

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again. 

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin. 

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly. 

Love. Love. Love. 

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call. 

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you. 

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks. 

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable. 

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.  

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately. 

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame. 

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat. 

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again. 

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?” 

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it. 

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable. 

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do. 

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is. 

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans. 

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks. 

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved. 

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - One

Masterlist

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

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So here’s the first chapter as promised! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what y’all think ♥️… I wrote half of this on my iPad so sorry for mistakes 😅)

Series Masterlist

Working as a secretary at Miller & Son's Construction had its highs and lows. You loved the job. The pay was great, and all the guys treated you impeccably, but there was just one slight problem that, if you were honest with yourself, wasn't really a problem but more of a personal issue. 

You were in love with Joel Miller. 

At 21, Joel was already shaping up to be a fine businessman, taking on a lot of the work from his father so that Cole Miller and his wife Lucia could take more time for themselves. The youngest Miller brother Tommy was shaping up to be a troublemaker. At 17, he was often out drinking with his friends and getting himself arrested and it had fallen to Joel to bail his little brother out every time. 

You were a year younger than Joel but as he always said, years ahead of him on the maturity scale. You had always been an old soul but that hadn't stopped you from developing the biggest schoolgirl crush on Joel the day you had started, two years ago. What had started off as a temporary job before you went off to college became permanent when your mum had gotten sick and your dreams of going to college were dashed. 

Her illness took her a year after she had been diagnosed and with no father to speak of, you were left alone in the house you'd grown up in. Alone, with nothing but the photos on your walls for company. That time had been what had brought you and Joel closer together but had also forged your crush into what it was now. Unrequited love. 

Or so you thought. 

"Sup Pip." Said Joel as he placed a paper coffee cup down beside your keyboard "How's my favourite secretary this mornin'?" 

"I'm you're only Secretary Miller." You chuckled as you picked up your cup to take a sip and hummed at the perfect coffee flavour that exploded across your taste buds "Better now you've brought me coffee." 

"Always happy to assist Pip." He said with a wink and you prayed your flushing cheeks didn't give away how much his wink affected you. 

Pip had been a nickname Joel had affectionately given you around three months after you had started. You had been eating a plum at your desk, not a care in the work and engrossed in the customer email that you were reading that you hadn't noticed that the next bite you had taken had contained the pip. Joel had walked in just in time to witness you choking and, using his first aid training he'd acquired just the week before, had managed to save you from a fruity death. 

From that day he had called you pip. 

Because you'd almost choked on one. 

"Anything I need to know about before I head to the site?" Joel asked, pulling you from the memory of your near-death experience and you shook your head slightly before giving him what you hoped was a bright smile. 

"Yes." You replied as you pulled out the list you had compiled for him "A Mr and Mrs Cork have emailed, wanting a quote for an extension and kitchen refit." You stated as you handed him the email with a post it note with their number on top "You have a call with a new cement supplied at 2 and Gloria Mullins called this morning asking that you call her when you get a chance, apparently her boiler is on the fritz again." 

"I need to tell that woman one of these days that I'm not a plumber." He chuckled to himself as he took the rest of the notes from you. 

"You just need to stop being so nice." You chuckled "You've set their expectations now." 

"I think you're probably right." Joel chuckled as he grabbed his own coffee cup and took a large swig "Anything else?" 

"There's just one more thing." You said shyly as you smiled awkwardly "I need to duck out a little earlier today." 

"Hot date?" Joel asked and you knew he could see you blushing now. 

"Actually yeah." You answered as you looked down at your hands, missing the way Joel's expression dropped "Simon asked me to dinner." 

"Simon Richards?" He asked and you nodded "Oh, wow. I uh... I didn't realise you were into him." Joel shrugged before taking another sip of coffee to try and settle his nerves. 

"Well, he's cute and sweet and it's not like I have guys lining up to ask me out." You replied, your smile almost sad "So I thought I should at least go. See if there's any chemistry there." 

"Sure... Of course." 

Joel knew his response was cold but he couldn't help it. Learning that you were going on a date just made him want to find the nearest pillow and scream. These feelings he had for you drove him crazy and it didn’t help that all his employees knew how he felt about you too. He’d allowed them to plant false hope when they told him that it was obvious you felt the same way. It was becoming painfully clear now that that wasn’t the case. 

He needed to get over you. 

You couldn’t help but notice the slight icy tone that had coated Joel’s response to your request and you couldn’t help be feel a little confused by it. You never asked for things. Often worked late to make sure everyone and everything was up to date. You would argue that you were one of his hardest workers so sue you for wanting to let your hair down a little. 

It’s not like he felt for you the way you did for him. 

“Sure.” He said after a short and awkward pause “Lord knows you deserve an early finish.” He chuffed before gathering his bag, the papers you’d given him and his coffee “And, seeing as I won’t be back today and Friday, I suppose I’ll see you Monday!”

“That you will!” 

“Enjoy your date, Pip.” he finished before giving you a friendly wave and then leaving. 

“I’ll try to.” you said sadly as you watched him walk away. 

...

"You are my hero!" Hailed Gloria as she clapped in delight at Joel's handy work. 

"Was an easy fix." Joel shrugged as he waved the older woman off. 

"You always talk yourself down." She chuckled, her Jamaican accent coming out thicker with her statement. 

"I'm just speaking the truth ma'am." 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Gloria?" The older woman chuckled and Joel winked as he replied. 

"At least once more."

"Auntie G... you home?" Came a voice that Joel didn't recognise and he looked up just as the owner walked into the room he had occupied with Gloria.  

"Ah, darlin' this is that fine man Joel I was tellin' you about." Said Gloria as she smiled at her niece. 

Joel was instantly aware of the fact he was wearing paint-stained jeans and a t-shirt so worn that he was sure this mysterious girl could see his nipples through it. 

"Joel, darlin' this is my niece, Eliza." Gloria stated and Joel quickly rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans before taking the hand that was being held out to him.

"Nice to meet ya' darlin'." He said sweetly as he gave her a shy smile "Was just helpin' Gloria here with her boiler. Darn thing needs replacin' really but-"

"I won't replace something just because it's a little saucy with me sometimes.' 

"You won't replace it because poor Joel here keeps fixing it for free." Eliza teased and Joel scratched the back of his neck nervously as he replied. 

"Well not completely free." He chuckled "She sends me away with weeks worth of food." 

"You're too skinny." Gloria chuffed "No girls gonna want to marry a man with no meat on his bones." 

Joel chuckled at the older woman's statement before looking back at Eliza who was grinning at him as she practically fluttered her thick black lashes at him.  

"Well, I need to get to that meeting I was talking about." Stated Joel as he coughed nervously. 

"Don't forget to pop by later for your food!" Gloria ordered as she watched him collect his tools "I made you my famous jerk chicken with rice... peas on the side." She finished with a wink.

"Why on the side?" Eliza asked and Gloria simply rolled her eyes as she said.

"Boy don't like them mixed in." 

Eliza mouthed an 'ooooooh' before watching as Joel started to leave. 

"I'll see you later to grab that food." 

"Or I could bring it by?" Eliz suggested, "You give me your address and I can swing by and drop it off when you're home."

"Oh that's-"

"Ah, splendid idea." Gloria interrupted, leaving Joel looking like a fish out of water "Don't worry dear, I'll give her your address. Get her to drop it by around 9. You're normally home then, right?"

"Right but-"

"9 it is now you best get going or y'all be late." Said Gloria as she practically herded Joel out the door. Leaving him speechless when he made it back to his truck. 

What an earth just happened?

...

The restaurant that Simon had brought you to was nice. Not too fancy but not exactly a dive either. Conversations had been a little awkward at first. You'd not really been on many dates but after being honest with Simon about your lack of dating experiences, he put you at ease and now after one glass of wine and a very large meal, the two of you were chuckling away as subjects came easier to you both.  

"So how long have you worked for Mr Miller?" You asked as you sipped at your second glass of wine. Simon had already been at the company when you had started and was a few years older than you and Joel. 

"More or less straight outa of high school." He replied as he took a swig of his soft drink "Have always been good with my hands so when Cole put up an advert for an apprentice I marched myself over to his office and waited till he got back to speak to him..." 

"Wow." You chuckled around the rim of your glass. 

"Guy liked my tenacity. Offered me the job on the spot." 

"Well, you know my story so..." You trailed off, smiling sweetly at him as he grinned at you.

"So glad you agreed to come out with me." Simon confessed, his cheeks tinging pink "Been wantin' to ask you out a while but didn't outa respect for Joel, but can only wait so lo-"

"What do you mean, out of respect for Joel?" You asked and Simon's expression took on one of a deer caught in headlights.

"Well... with him being into you and all." Simon clarified and your brows drew together as you shook your head.

"Joel isn't into me." You pushed and Simon grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment. 

"He's been crushin' on you more or less from day dot." Your date continued when he saw you needed further clarity "We've always teased him for it but he never made a move so I thought, you know, with him not trying to date you it'd be okay for me to." 

You weren't sure what to do with the information you'd just received. For years now you had pushed your feelings down for Joel because you believed he didn't return them. So to learn that he might really put a spammer in the works for you. 

The subject moved on after that but the atmosphere wasn't as relaxed. After Simon dropped you home, you allowed what he'd told you to run on repeat in your brain. Keeping you from getting to sleep until late that night. Yet, you came to a decision before you finally drifted off. You were going to go to Joel's in the morning and ask him.  

You had to be sure.  

...

Joel wasn't surprised when there was a knock at his door at 9 pm sharp. He opened the door to see a beaming Eliza on the other side, her arms full of food containers. 

"Shit, come in." Joel said before grabbing a few containers to ease the load. "Let me take some of those." 

"Auntie G likes to feed you huh?" She chuckled as she followed Joel into his kitchen. 

"I had to buy a second freezer." Joel stated and Eliza barked out a laugh, taking Joel by surprise. 

"She's always been a feeder." She chuckled before placing the food down beside where Joel had put the other containers "Think it's a Caribbean thing."

Joel chuckled before turning to face his guest. 

"Thank you for dropping this by. You really didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"It's not trouble is I offer." Eliz chuckled and Joel chuckled at her reply. 

"Either way... that you for bringing the insane amount of food your aunt,

made me over."

"You are quite welcome." Eliza replied as she placed herself within kissing distance of him "I wanted to see you again anyway." 

Joel blushed at her statement. Taken aback by how forward she was then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, she was kissing him. Starting softly and gradually growing hotter as tongues tangled. 

"I uh... I feel like I should tell you that I'm kinda getting over someone so I'm not looking for anything serious right now," Joel stated and Eliza chuckled. 

"Who said I wanted anything serious either?" She whispered against his lips "I think I can be of great help... assisting you in getting over whoever this person is." 

Joel looked into Eliza's eyes a moment, trying to discern her endgame. Then, when he was sure that she was being honest with him he kissed her again. The food is forgotten as clothes are discarded in a breadcrumb trail to his bedroom. 

... 

You let out a steadying breath before knocking on Joel's door. Your slightly shaky left hand clutching the to-go coffee tray that contained your and Joel's favourite coffees. You chuckled when you heard Joel inside, calling out to wait a moment before suddenly opening the door, looking rather flustered. 

"Pip." He said as his expression turned from surprised to confused "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you about something." You replied with a smile "I brought you a coffee. Mind if I come in?"

"Now's not a great time... what was it you wanted to talk about?" He replied nervously, smiling awkwardly as you handed him the coffee. 

"It's just about something Simon told me on our date last night." You chuckled "You see he said that you have-"

"Who's this?" Asked a woman that you didn't recognise, dressed in a shirt you assumed was Joel's and nothing else. Her brown skin glowing in the early morning light. 

"Oh, I didn't realise you had company." You said awkwardly as you started to take a few steps backwards "I'll um... I'll see you Monday." You choked as you fought to keep your tears at bay, but in doing so you missed the step down and went tumbling onto your backside. Your coffee going all over your arm. 

"Shit... Pip, are you okay?" Joel shrieked as he leapt towards you, stopping dead when you held your hand up to stop him... 

"Fine... I'm fine."

"That coffee'll be skalding." He said as he took another ginger step towards you "We need to get your arm under some cold water or else it'll blister." 

"Please just let me go." You choked, your resolve crumbling under the weight of your sadness and embarrassment "I... I just need to go." You affirmed and Joel nodded, giving you a small smile before stepping back into the threshold of his home "Bye Joel."

The older Miller brother watched with concern etched into his features as you left. Glancing at Eliza who was watching you and looking equally worried. 

"You think she's okay?" She asked and all Joel could do was shake his head as he replied. 

"I don't know."

...

You spent the rest of the weekend dreading Monday morning. You felt like such a fool going over to Joels to, you had hoped, profess your love but instead, you had fallen ass over tit in front of him and his date and burned yourself in the process. Said injury was now wrapped in gauze and throbbing with each knock and graze of your arm on your desk. You had spent the morning wishing you lived somewhere colder so you could hide your accident. 

But alas, it's 100 degrees outside and you were forced to wear a short-sleeved blouse. The air-con once again broke at the most inconvenient moment.

"Morning Pip." Said Joel as he stepped into view, placing your coffee down as he did every morning. 

"Morning." You replied, not takimg your eyes off your computer screen. 

"How's the arm?" He asked upon seeing the brilliant white bandage wrapped around it. 

"Killing me." You answered shortly, still not looking at the man who was desperately trying to pry any form of conversation out of you. 

After a long, heavy pause, Joel spoke again. His question finally tearing your eyes away from your monitor. 

"Did I do or say something to upset you?" He asked, his signature kicked puppy look making your stomach twist.

"No." You answered simply and he nodded. 

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" He asked and your brows drew together "On Saturday... you said you needed to talk to me." He clarified "Said Simon had told you something on your date."

"Doesn't matter now." You bluntly replied before returning to the email you'd been writing before. 

"Seemed important then." 

"Well, it isn't now." You growled, your tone stopping the conversation dead.

"Okay." He couldn't hide how your aggressive tone wounded him. He didn't understand why you were suddenly so cold towards him. What could he have possibly done? 

He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Simon as he blasted into the office. 

"Morning Boss!" He said chirpily before turning his attention to you "Morning beautiful."

"Morning" you replied with a smile that he returned tenfold. 

"Fancy going out with me again on Friday?" He asked and you nodded without hesitation "Great!... see you later beautiful."

You grinned at Simon as he left. Not seeing Joel's crestfallen expression.

Perhaps he did need Eliza. 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[smolwritingchick]

The Bangtan Gal Masterlist

Author's Note: Hey! I wrote this story back in 2016 on some fanfic websites and am bringing it back as I edit the chapters. I wanted to put my perspective and imagination on what if BTS had a black girl in their group from America. This'll be a long story starting from their debut so enjoy the ride!

I have so many chapters already written. I had stopped in the story around late 2016 before the MAMA Awards. As I wrote this story over the years I wanted this character to be relatable and grow as a performer as well as go through hardships. It'll be a slow start but it will get better as the chapters go on, I hope you give it a chance.

This will mainly start with friendship. Not just the character and the love interest. I didn't want to rush things and I tried my best to add a lot of bonding and cute moments. This is a SLOW BURN with my OC and Jungkook. The two will not become a couple until 2016.

I'm also on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own

----

Profile Of Jennie

Chapter 1- The Foreign Trainee

Chapter 2- The Debut

Chapter 3- Rookie King Episode 1

Chapter 4- Rookie King Episode 2

Chapter 5- Rookie King Episode 3

Chapter 6- Rookie King Episode 4

Chapter 7- Rookie King Episode 5

Chapter 8- Rookie King Episode 6

Chapter 9- Rookie King Episode 7

Chapter 10- Rookie King Episode 8

Chapter 11- We're Proud of You

Chapter 12- They're My Family

Chapter 13- Boy In Luv

Chapter 14- Look Forward To White Day

Chapter 15- Going to SOPA

Chapter 16- Spending White Day With BTS

Chapter 17- Just One Day

Chapter 18- American Hustle Life Episode 1

Chapter 19- American Hustle Life Episode 2

Chapter 20- American Hustle Life Episode 3 (Yoongi Fluff & Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 21- American Hustle Life Episode 4 (Yoongi Fluff!)

Chapter 22- American Hustle Life Episode 5

Chapter 23- American Hustle Life Episode 6

Chapter 24- American Hustle Life Episode 7

Chapter 25- I Found It In Big Hit

Chapter 26- BTS China Job

Chapter 27- KCON 2014

Chapter 28- American Hustle Life Episode 8

Chapter 29- Personal Trainer? (Jungkook fluff at the end!)

Chapter 30- War of Hormone (Major Jungkook fluff! One of my favs)

Chapter 31- You Are Special (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 32- You're Easy To Mess With

Chapter 33- Mama Awards 2014 (Jungkook fluff and jealous Jungkook!)

Chapter 34- Let's Name It Iron Man (Namjoon fluff and Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 35- BTS Now

Chapter 36- My Ideal Type

Chapter 37- Running Man (Major Jungkook fluff! One of my favs!)

Chapter 38- I'm Lacking

Chapter 39- How Much You're Loved

Chapter 40- I Need U (Major Jungkook Fluff and Suga Fluff!)

Chapter 41- And What If I Don't? (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 42- BTS Now 2

Chapter 43- Our First Win

Chapter 44- He's Smitten (Major Jungkook Fluff & Bam Bam Fluff One of my favs!)

Chapter 45- BTS in Kota Kinabalu

Chapter 46- BTS Festa

Chapter 47- Two Different Pages (RM Fluff and Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 48- Don't Steal The Beef!

Chapter 49- Distressed (Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 50- Payback (Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 51- Dope

Chapter 52- One Person Won't Ruin This

Chapter 53- I Think I Love Her

Chapter 54- Rekindle (MAJOR Jungkook fluff and one of my FAVS!)

Chapter 55- BTS Run Episodes 1-3

Chapter 56- BTS GAYO Track 1 & 2

Chapter 57- Tension Escalator (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 58- Fan Sign (some angst but ends in fluff!)

Chapter 59- ISAC 2015 Chuseok Special (one of my favs!)

Chapter 60- Running Man: The Golden Duo (MAJOR Jungkook fluff + suggestive)

Chapter 61- Tense (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 62- Protection Squad (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 63- RUN (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 64- Sweet 18

Chapter 65- Karma (Fight! Flawless Victory!)

Chapter 66- BTS GAYO Tracks 3-9

Chapter 67- BTS RUN Episodes 4-9

Chapter 68- Under The Mistletoe (Jungkook fluff! Kiss!)

Chapter 69- GAYO Daechukje & GAYO Daejejun (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 70- Jungkook's Confession (Self Explanatory! MAJOR Jungkook fluff! Almost there! My fav!!)

Chapter 71- You Are In Your Feelings

Chapter 72- You Were Worth The Wait (Start of JenKook!)

Chapter 73- It's About Time

Chapter 74- King of Masked Singer

Chapter 75- Ejected

Chapter 76- White Day (Big Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 77- Fire

Chapter 78- Prom (Big Jungkook fluff and smol Jungkook Smut)

Chapter 79- Meeting Shawn Mendes

Chapter 80- Taking Things A Little Further (Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 81- BTS Festa 2016

Chapter 82- K-Con 2016

Chapter 83- I Need You On This

Chapter 84- BTS Bon Voyage Season 1 (Big Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 85- BTS In Dubai

Chapter 86- WINGS 8 (Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 87- Wild N Out (One of my favs!)

Chapter 88- This Is Not A Drill!

Chapter 89- Blood, Sweat, & Tears

Chapter 90- Idol Parents? (Big JK Fluff)

Chapter 91- Tub Big Enough For Two (Big JK Fluff! One of my favs!)

Chapter 92- Thank You (Big Jungkook Fluff! One of my favs!)

Chapter 93- Our First Time (Big Jungkook Fluff + Smut)

The Bangtan Gal Masterlist PART 2

[mysteria157]

Chapter 17

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~7.7k

CW: brief sexual content, profanity, lots of fluff &lt;3

Summary: You work hard to bring life to something dear to Nanami.

Notes: Thank you to all who have been supportive so far. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 Almost there! Happy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

You gave your mother an olive branch a few days after Christmas. 

A small part of you felt bad for not inviting her over for dinner that night. You planned a nice Christmas meal, and everyone was in attendance. Kento’s mother and father, his grandfather from Denmark, Ome and the rest of your friends, even Choso and Jin. 

But you couldn’t have her there. It was too intimate, too close to home from the last Christmas you spent with her sliding scathing words across her long and elaborate dining table a year ago. You wanted to start small, to give her small chances to test her change in behavior so you could make a decision yourself. 

Kento—who had no wish to entertain her after the little stint almost a year ago in Sendai—was more than happy to see less of her. 

“My love, if you wish to spend more time with her, then that is a decision I will readily support,” he had mumbled against the crown of your hair the night before as you both lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you. “But don’t give her too much. If she hurts you again, I’ll get the restraining order myself.” There wasn’t a trace of softness in his tone, not an ounce of sincerity or joke in the way he spoke.

So, your first olive branch manifested in the cool and barely touched air of Yu’s bakery. The floor was layered with a tarp, four buckets of paint unsealed, both of your hands holding long paint brushes as you rolled beige paint along one of the walls. 

The air was tense, the most you two had spoken was a simple good morning when your mother walked inside earlier that day. But now, an hour later with two walls already done, you could barely breathe through the thickness of awkwardness around you.

Should you say something? Maybe ask her how her week had been. 

No.

You repeated Ome’s mantra in your head over and over, pressing a little harder on your upward stroke, gripping the metal rod a little tighter between your fingers. 

“How was your Christmas?” she asked, her voice unusually soft, lacking its usual arrogance when directed at you. A bitter taste of disdain settled in your mouth, but you swallowed it down, allowing it to simmer in your stomach for the time being.

“It was fine.” Your words were rushed and curt, barreling out of your mouth before you could stop them and had you faltering, staggering your strokes for an uneven coat. “We had dinner. Kento’s family and a few friends came over.”

She was silent, brown hands pushing the rod up, her eyes following the movement as she watched the pain smear with her actions. “Do you own this bakery?” 

“No. It belonged to a friend who passed. It was given to Kento. I wanted to fix it up for him.”

Your mother hummed a soft noise that was rare for her. You were used to huffs of impatience, grunts of disapproval, a tsk, and a shake of her head when you had disappointed her. 

“I’m sure he’s happy you’re doing this for him,” she spoke instead, contradicting your inner thoughts and making you a little angrier.

In truth, Kento had no idea that you were here. Since that night he expressed his readiness to consider reopening the bakery, you meticulously planned your next moves. Between caring for Ulani and having more confidence to handle the influx of commissions, you had the power to determine your schedule and work around what you wanted. 

Kento had no idea that you were listening when he joked about the terrible paint Yu had chosen all those years ago before opening the grand opening. He had no idea you wrote down every single pastry item he envisioned on his menu. He had no idea that while he joked and teased of minor details, you were soaking them all up.

And now you were ready to make it a reality. 

“It’s a surprise,” you admitted, words slipping like gooey slime past your lips as you chastised yourself again for being so open. “So…don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” You ignored the smile that you could feel grace her features even though your back was turned. It cut through the tense air around her, the corners of her mouth pushing against tension that was suffocating you. “This is a nice thing that you’re doing—”

“I know,” you interrupted, harshly. Your eyebrows furrowed from your actions, a general sensation of upset sliding along your arms as you closed in on what was left of the old paint on the walls.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing!” you hissed at her, the disdain in your belly now a little more pungent as it shot up and out of your throat. “I just—why do you care all of a sudden?!” 

You yanked the rolling brush from the wall, careful not to whack your mother with the wet end even though the thought was a shrieking siren in your mind. She set her own down gracefully, without stumble in a way that made you seethe. 

“I told you why I care. I told you what I’m trying to do. So, excuse me if I apologize for insinuating things about your life. It’s not my place to offer you praise out of the blue and expect you to accept it. So, I’m going to apologize for the times I make you uncomfortable.”

Your mind was reeling from her words. Self-sacrificing and self-aware to a degree that it felt like a smack in the face. Even with her sarcastic quip, it was still filled with a level of sincerity that made you nauseous. 

The mental and emotional whiplash was too powerful, curling and bunching into a migraine that began to ebb between your eyes. Your fingers dug into the black cotton of your overalls, squeezing the fabric between suddenly sweaty fingers as you felt those dormant tendrils of anxiety dance along the skin of your shoulders with mocking movements.

Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe you weren’t as ready as you thought.

“You want me to stop apologizing? Done.” Her hand not on the metal rod lifted in concession. “You want me to only talk when you speak to me? I can do that too. Just let me at least…be here.”

Those tendrils whispered in your ears to kick her out, to make a fool of yourself and let you wallow in self-pity. 

But you did this for a reason. Stuck yourself out there for a reason. Got out of your comfort zone with her for a reason.

And you wouldn’t be able to see any results whatsoever if you had already made it up in your mind that she wasn’t worth the effort.

So, you pulled in a deep breath, the cold air sifting into your nostrils to wash away the irritation inside of you. You picked up your brush and dipped it into the paint bucket once and then twice before bringing it back against the wall.

“How about you start the accent wall behind the register? Once I’m done here, I’ll move onto the other side of the room.” 

You didn’t have much else to say, realizing that until you could control your emotions better, remaining silent was the best option.

You watched her nod, picking up a new rolling brush and a bucket of maroon paint, before offering a gentle smile towards you. You couldn’t help the flutters of warmth that erupted in your chest. It was foreign coming from her, unwanted and trespassing inside of you. You didn’t want to show her that despite your frustration, you were glad she was here to try with you.

So, you didn’t

And with a wavering glance away from her, you turned back to the wall, brushing the roller against it once more.

***

You could only do so much while Kento was at work because of Ulani. So, when you were at the bakery doing renovations, Chiyo and Santo offered to watch her since Ome had to work as well. You kept your work down to only two hours a day, careful not to run his parents ragged with something you still hadn’t told them about. 

No one knew your plans. You couldn’t risk it.

As much as you loved Ome, she would be quick to let something slip in the heat of conversation when she wasn’t paying attention. As much as you could have used Yuji’s strength for some tasks, he was too loose on the tongue and excitable, and it made him an unreliable confidant who was around his sensei far too much. 

You had to pick and choose your people carefully and track your movements without leaving traces behind.

So, you prayed to whoever was listening that the white-haired man in front of you would keep his mouth shut. 

He cradled a Tupperware container in long lanky arms, pressing it against his black Armani long sleeve as he stared down at the contents inside with glee.

“Taste one,” you demanded, admiring the way he ripped off the plastic cover before you could finish speaking. A thumb and pointer finger held a steaming piece of sweet bread, the golden brown flaky texture decorated with drizzles of honey. All sense of decorum left the second he inhaled thick billows of sweet steam, and with only two bites the treat was gone, and he was digging into the container for another. “Gojo, I need you to actually taste the sweet bread, please. You’re huffing it down like a dog.”

He was chewing on a large piece as he tilted his head down, white hair brushing against pale skin as he observed you. His bright blue eyes peeked at you from behind his glasses, cusped over the tops of round dark blue shades as they slid down his nose.

“Did Ome say something about me?”

“No?”

“Did I fuck something up when I watched Ulani a few days ago?”

“No. Gojo—”

“So why are you giving me sweet bread? I love your cooking, but you never cook only for me. So, what’s the catch?”

Your teeth dug into the side of your cheek, biting hard on the wet gummy texture as you watched him start on his third piece. He would be done with the entire container before he walked out of your door and you needed to think fast.

“If I tell you, promise not to say anything.” His eyes were still as he pondered you, blue ocean irises vast and overwhelming that you had to look away. “I’m trying to make sweet bread. For Kento. But I want to make it the way Yu did. And you’re the only person I know that has an affinity for sweets that borders on the need for clinical study.” He shrugged in indifference, somehow—but not surprisingly—flattered by the insult. “I just want to get it right. Would you be willing to taste-test all my batches? Your reward is the entire container each time.”

He scoffed, blemish-free cheeks puffed from the dough behind them, chewing thoughtfully as he considered your ask. Gojo missed Yu and thought about him almost every day. But he was never as close to him as Kento and Geto, never as understanding and pure when they were kids. And as a result, his recovery from grief was much quicker. He bounced back with a quickness that worried you but was no surprise to his friends around him.

“These are a lot of sweets; don’t you care about my health?”

“You are a thirty-one-year-old man with not even a hint of pre-diabetes despite the amount of glucose you ingest. You’ll be fine.”

Gojo was too busy stuffing another piece in his mouth to argue with you.

***

“Your hands are dryer than usual, love,” Kento spoke against the skin of them, kissing your knuckles and the deep cracks along the sides of your fingers. You were blissfully relaxed, pliant, and warm beneath the covers of your bed as you let him caress you. 

It was undeniable that your hands had become unusually dry. You took care of your skin with the amount of throwing you performed for commissions. But lately, you had been crafting more than usual.

Kento thought you were finishing piece after piece for the prolific ceramic artists who shoved their contact info in your hands at Choso’s exhibit a few weeks prior.

In reality, you were actually crafting pieces for the bakery. Specifically, vases of various shapes and designs intended to grace the center of the individual tables that Yu had sanded and stained himself. 

Day after day when Kento was at work and when Ulani was down for her nap, you were hunched over in the studio, wet hands molding against clay as it spun on your pottery wheel. 

You finished your last vase earlier that evening. But you were so exhausted and achy that even though you craved Kento’s touch and the feeling of him inside you, you settled for the soft and practiced movement of his lips and tongue between your legs instead. Letting him coax you in only the way he knew until you were arching into the sheets and moaning your orgasm into the night air of your bedroom.

His thumb smoothed along the sunken skin beneath your eyes, frowning at the sight. 

“You’ve been so tired. Do you need me to cut back on my hours? Extend my lunch too so I’m home more?” 

You snorted, burrowing deeper beneath your duvet and closer to him. He pulled you in without thought, wrapping muscular arms around your waist before yanking into him so that your lips brushed along the skin of his clavicle. You melted further into the warm woodsy scent of him, savoring the lingering hints of eucalyptus that clung to him from his shampoo.

“I’ve just had more commissions lately. I’m okay.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but you still felt bad when he frowned deeper in response, the corners of his lips down turning, narrow eyes intensifying in worry. “Do not take on so much.”

“Yea yea old man,” you sighed against the pillow on your cheek, closing your eyes slowly. 

You could feel his gaze on you even though you couldn’t see him, and you forced your lips together to avoid laughing as the eye not pressed into your pillow cracked open to look at him.

Burnt umber eyes glared at you, jerking a sharp chuckle from deep within your belly that pierced through the thin veil between your lips. 

Watching him fuss had been one of the many things you found yourself craving as your relationship with each other grew. You loved to tease him. Despite Kento’s typically stoic and serious demeanor, there were moments when his seriousness seemed out of place. And the fact that most of the time he was unaware of it, made it all the more humorous to you. 

So, you rolled with it every time and he voiced his fake irritation because it made you smile and laugh.

“Stop laughing,” he grumbled.

Right on cue. 

And like he expected, it made you laugh harder, deep chuckles morphing into giggles when large hands squeezed your waist in reproach, a sensation that only made you wheeze against him. 

The frown on his face twitched, threatening to curl into a smile, responding to the soft giggles that wafted onto his skin as he wiggled nimble fingers against you.

***

It was late February when everything finally came together. 

Twelve batches of sweet bread all either too sweet or missing a secret ingredient that you could never figure out. Gojo could only offer so much. While he didn’t know the exact ingredient that was missing, he could still determine if it ever tasted like Yu’s.

But it was the thirteenth batch that finally stuck.

You were used to drizzling the honey atop the bread when it was fresh out of the oven. But on a whim, you decided to add a tablespoon and halve the serving of vanilla to the yeast mixture instead. 

You were exhausted, swallowing frustration week after week for the sake of doing this for him. Because you wanted to bring this small piece of Yu back to him. Wanted to watch his eyes be a little less dim on his bad days. 

After all, doesn’t every baker need a prized recipe?

You didn’t think much else of it. You were already content with the somber thought that batch number fourteen would be better.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the light against Gojo’s handsome face when he chewed a piece of batch thirteen. His cerulean irises glimmered with a familiarity that made him pause, made him pull back the uneaten half between his fingers to look as if it had spoken a secret to him.

And then, with each movement of his jaw, as he ate the entire batch in front of you, you realized that you just might have gotten it right.

And it was Gojo sliding his hands across your kitchen island to clasp around yours. It was sticky fingers tapping along your brown skin and pearly whites shining brightly at you when you knew for sure that your efforts had finally paid off. 

“Tastes like you got it.”

You were so excited that you could hardly contain yourself, whipping up another batch with your remaining dough, uncaring of the chatterbox of a man sitting at your island as he began to pry questions about Ome from you, inhaling the rest of batch thirteen.

You were too happy. Too proud of yourself and riding on a high when an hour later you were knocking on Kaya’s door and silently offering the batch of sweet bread to her.

You had been at her house a few times since Christmas. Happy to know that the plants were alive and well and that she was coping as best as she could. Even though she had lost the love of her life, she pushed forward for Aiko, who held resilience in the face of despair that must have come from her father.

So, when she sniffed softly as you both sat in her kitchen, small sounds becoming more insistent and congested, you knew for sure that you perfected a recipe that only Yu knew. So, she became the second person you told your plans to, and her hazel eyes filled with tears as she listened, her smile stretched across round cheeks before she yanked you into a tight hug.

“I’ll bring the plants by tomorrow.” You were rubbing her back in soothing circular motions when she muttered the words over your shoulder. You felt faint echoes of her grief vibrating against you, but the resonances weren’t as strong as before. They weren’t as crippling. Not as suffocating as that first day she had broken down in the waiting room almost a year ago. 

You could smell the scent of strawberries from her shampoo flutter beneath your nose as her hair brushed against your cheek. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming damp from what was no doubt her tears against you.

“Kento will be so happy. Yu…Yu would be so happy. Thank you—you have no idea how much this means to me.”

And even though you were exhausted beyond belief. Even though your hands were dry and painful and cracking from throwing and not moisturizing correctly. Even though you had done more renovations than you could stomach for probably a long time. Feeling Kaya squeezing you tighter, seeping happiness through your clothes and into the pores of your skin made your heart swell. 

***

A cold Saturday evening in March is when you set your plans in motion. 

The air brushed against your cheeks, sharp and biting and drying your skin, but you couldn’t use your hands to shield your cheeks. Because those hands were occupied, holding both of Kento’s as you guided his blindfolded form inside the bakery. He was under the impression that you were both on your way to have dinner with friends. So, he was more than surprised when you decided to drive and forced a piece of cloth over his eyes.

You ignored every single protest that he muttered to you, pulling him to stand in the center of the lit room. 

For once, the air hadn’t been cold and reeking of painful traces of its past. Instead, cinnamon colored the air faintly, drifting around you both as you steeled your nerves, squared your shoulders and took a silent breath in front of his oblivious figure. 

“Okay. You can take it off.”

He did so immediately, brows furrowed in light irritation and worry before the expression fell from his face just as fast. 

The beige walls were a good choice, and the maroon accent on the wall behind the register created a warm aura that you were sure would make customers feel more comfortable and willing to stay.

You left the countertops untouched but meticulously restored the shine to the cabinets and replaced the metal accents along the sides of the display case below the register. The floor was redone—an act that you had no choice but to hire help for—and shining beneath your feet. The certificates of achievements and cherished photographs of families, employees, and friends no longer resided in their old frames, having been replaced with brand new ones that added a touch of freshness to the walls they hung on. 

The painstakingly crafted vases, which had taken you weeks to throw, fire, and glaze, had become the focal points of each table, radiating with an assortment of vibrant colors and intricate designs made by your hand. And in each vase laid the plants that Kaya brought back. 

Those same Peperomias and Hoya Carnosas had their bases wrapped in your ceramic art, the long philodendrons that were previously adorning the walls of Yu’s house had been returned to their original home between the crevices between cabinets and displayed in knitted holders suspending from the ceiling. Yu’s prized fiddle leaf had flourished despite his time away, its large, lush green leaves reaching out from its dedicated spot in the corner of the bakery, basking in the gentle March low lights that streamed through the nearby glass windows. 

You were proud. It was an indescribable satisfaction, knowing that every detail had been attended to with an unwavering dedication and care. 

You only hoped Kento would think the same.

Because the man in question was still silent and stone-faced from his perch, Chukka boots rooted to the floor, gelled and parted hair exposing deep brown eyes incredulous and unblinking as he looked around. 

You tried to quell the nerves zapping to life in your body, synapses firing chaotically, causing your fingers to twitch against your thighs, an uneasy silence lingering between the two of you.

“Well…say something,” your words trembled on the ends with an uneasy chuckle, tumultuous waves of anxiety roaring to life inside of you.

“I…” his voice trailed off, his gaze swept across the once missed vibrant plants around him, the upgraded display case, and the freshly painted walls. His heart thumped against his chest, like a bird yearning to be set free, as shock and astonishment surged through his veins, sending a chill down his spine. The weight of your gaze bore down on him, your increasing apprehension palpable as he struggled to find his words. He knew you deserved his undivided attention. 

Surprised or not. 

Overwhelmed or not.

“Is…is that new paint?” He mentally kicked himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his own obliviousness while stating the obvious.

But you smiled bashfully at him instead, eager to do whatever it took to reassure him and help him regain his composure. “It is. I painted it. Well…my mother and I did.” You frowned briefly, your eyebrows twitching with the urge to furrow at the mention of her. She didn’t need to occupy your thoughts at that moment. Not now. 

His eyes shifted down, fixating on the tile beneath his feet. The once familiar, plain linoleum that he had grown accustomed to over the years had not been replaced. The new floor was now made of a creamy-toned linoleum designed to mimic tiles.

“New flooring?” he asked, his voice stronger even though it wavered.

“That one I had to hire help for,” you excitedly told him, maintaining a safe distance, standing a few paces ahead to allow him time to take in his surroundings. “But I picked out the color and style and I even got to rip out a few chunks. I took a bunch of pictures.”

He couldn’t help the huff that puffed from his nose, a small noise of a laugh as his mind continued to struggle to keep up. You watched as he attempted to speak, lips forming words that his throat stubbornly refused to release. 

Sensing his need for guidance, you closed the distance between you, reaching out to slide a hand into one of his larger ones and squeezing gently. He didn’t try to speak again, realized that he couldn’t, but the way his eyes caught yours and held your gaze briefly assured you at that moment that he was here, and he was listening, he just needed you to pilot him in that way only you could do with ease.

So, you did.

You brought a few vases for him to hold and trace his fingers against, animatedly explaining the firing techniques you chose for each one. You pulled him to the kitchen, proudly presenting the recently polished equipment that bore freshly stamped inspection approvals. The pots and pans, put away to avoid dust not even a day after Yu’s death, now hung gleaming and ready to be used from the pot rack above cool concrete countertops. The stainless steel ovens were ready to be turned on, the large refrigerator ready to be filled with chilled dough and meat for savory buns.

With brush of your fingers against him, his skin tingled; overwhelming and strong, forcing currents of electricity along his dermis. His chest tightened with each step you led him away from the kitchen, walking in the direction of Yu’s office.

Faint memories were suddenly rich in his mind when he stepped into the small room. Vivid flashbacks of Yu’s slouched figure, head resting on a hand as he gazed out the only large window in the room. 

That familiar nerve plan, known to dramatically droop the minute it was off its watering schedule, sat once again on the windowsill. However, alongside it stood a new addition—a simple cactus, with curved and drooping spiky branches.

You spoke up as you watched his eyes take in the unfamiliar plant. “Ulani reached for it when I went to the nursery with Ome last week. I figured you would be happy knowing she picked it out for you.”

He didn’t speak, he still couldn’t.

Instead, he allowed his legs to guide him around the oak desk, which had been cleared of its usual clutter of paper and books. For the first time since Yu had bought this bakery, the stained surface was visible to him, and he reached out to run his hand along it, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. 

But his eyes stopped, freezing at the three small picture frames that sat on the corner of his desk. Picture frames that hadn’t been there before.

The first was of you both. You were in the corner of the photo and holding the camera at an angle to take a selfie, your smile bright as the sun, those familiar glints of mischief coloring your eyes. And he’s behind you, sprawled out on the couch with his legs spread and arms resting along the back of the sofa, head tilted back and mouth slightly parted as he was—despite how much he vehemently denied—snoring. 

It was so mundane, so informal, and not like him to have a photo like this out in the open. But it was so you. And the smile that curved faintly along the edges of his mouth as he took in the photo was more than enough for you to slink closer to him.

The second frame is of you and Ulani. She sat in your lap, her blue onesie covered in drool, light brown curls thick and messy, her gummy mouth smiling and showing the beginnings of a front tooth. Her hands were reaching for her father, who stood behind the camera. Vividly he recalled the playful antics he needed to elicit her infectious laughter for the perfect shot. Kento traced his fingertips along the edges of the frame, his smile pulling a little tighter on his face.

But it was the last photo that made his throat catch because he remembered it like it was yesterday. He and Yu were standing in front of the bakery, and he recalled how excited Yu was when he signed the lease, dragging Kento to stand in front of the empty building with Kaya ready with her camera. 

They were younger, Kento a little less bulky, Yu with a little more hair on his head than what you usually used to see from him. Yu’s arm was draped around Kento’s neck, both hands throwing peace signs, his smile just as bright and lively. 

“Why must I be in the picture if I don’t even own the bakery?”

“You will someday!”

“No.”

“Yes! Now are you going to smile for me? Or are you going to frown like the old man you refuse to admit you are?”

“I am not an old man.”

“You are!”

“Yu—”

“Smile!”

Those words reverberated in his mind, echoing ceaselessly as he gazed at his younger self frozen in the photograph. Because even though his posture was stiff, and his arms were folded over his chest. And even though the blue shirt and brown slacks were a little too big on him and his yellow and black spotted tie and glasses made him look old just like Yu had teased…he was smiling. 

Close-lipped and weak, but he was smiling.

Before he could fully be washed over with the overwhelming surge of emotions that boiled in the core of his stomach, you gently tugged him away, leading him out of the office and through the kitchen. The cinnamon-tinged air enveloped you both again as you entered the front of the bakery. 

Kento blinked away the blurriness in his eyes, and tried hard to focus on soft, billowing curls that peeked out from under your wool beanie.

He knew he needed to say something to you. 

He had to say something to you.

But once again you held him still and commanded him to close his eyes again. And when he complied, the sensation of his eyes closing softly, he sagged against the wooden counter behind him. His heart continued to race uncontrollably, refusing to calm down. Despite the deafening ringing in his ears and the tight, parched feeling in his throat, he found himself still standing. 

When he was told to open his eyes again, he found you holding what looked to be one of the chalkboard slabs that would hang on the wall behind the counter.

“A bakery wouldn’t be complete without a menu,” you declared with a grin, turning the chalkboard slab around for him to see. You soaked up every expression from him as he scanned the list.

Melon Pan, Anpan, Yakisoba Pan, and even Shu Kurimu; each item was meticulously written in delicate calligraphy. 

You cherished the moments you spent together that inspired the menu, with him patiently guiding you through the art of kneading, braiding, and perfecting other techniques during Ulani’s naptime. With every recipe, he absentmindedly spoke about which ones he would like to add to his menu.

And you had soaked it up like a sponge. 

The prices next to each food item were modest, and as he read line by line, item after item, the irresistible emotion to scoop you up into his arms became more palpable.

But when he got to the bottom, he froze. 

Because at the bottom of the menu, written in chalk and clear as day, was something that didn’t make sense to him but demanded his attention, nonetheless.

Yu’s Famous Sweet Bread: Daily Special

He shook his head, mind faltering and struggling to put the pieces together because those words shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t have written that. He couldn’t make Yu’s sweet bread because he never got the recipe. And he wouldn’t fabricate his own iteration and tarnish his best friend’s memory. 

Flickers of irritation flared inside of him, completely unnecessary and unwarranted, waves of embarrassment bubbling in his stomach from the thought of being upset with you. But with tremendous effort, he managed to swallow it down. 

The sight was enough to make you lean over the edge of the counter, reaching for the Tupperware hidden beneath.

For weeks, it had been Gojo who would eagerly tear open the top and devour every batch that didn’t quite meet the mark. But now, it was Kento who stood there, staring at the Tupperware, blinking as you tore off the top and gestured the container towards him, his hands curling hesitantly around the edges of the plastic.

The aroma was heavenly, still steaming and flaky and he couldn’t help but reach inside and pull out a piece. He faltered, uncertainty clouding his face, unease bubbling in his gut, before finally taking a bit.

The flavors exploded on his tongue—buttery, not overly sweet, with hints of honey and cinnamon, just like he remembered. Just like how Yu used to make. A treasured recipe, perfected and replicated as if Yu had somehow manifested and made a batch just for him.

And suddenly his chest pulled tight once again, his throat constricted, and his heart hammered against his ribcage. He wasn’t upset, not even close. The unease that simmered in his belly fizzled away, died town as swirling waves of nostalgia took its place. 

It was too much. He couldn’t—

“It took me a few weeks. But Gojo was a good test subject.” You chuckled, wringing your hands around a clump of your curls in faint motions of anxiousness as you offered him a gentle smile. “I figured the man who only ingests sweets would be able to tell me if what I made tasted like Yu’s. And Kaya was a good final judge. It was a hunch, but it worked.” 

Nervously, you fidgeted, releasing your hands from the ends of your hair and burying them deep into the cozy embrace of your thick wool coat. You tried to convince yourself that his dumbfounded expression was a good thing. 

“I hope—was I wrong? I wanted the recipe to be perfect before I cooked some for you.”

You were fumbling and restless, finally taking the brunt of his lack of response and letting it fester within you. Maybe you had gone too far, overwhelmed him, and made him angry.

You shouldn’t have done this. You should have pulled back, and let him do things at his own pace.

While you were slowly beginning to despair from your spot in front of him, Kento was trying his best to move. To speak. To do something. 

Nothing could have prepared him for something like this. If someone were to tell him that all of this would be possible again, he would have turned around without another word and walked the other way. 

But it was possible. 

Here in the form of a bakery that had been brought back to life with newly painted walls, long-missed plants, a handcrafted menu, and a special recipe that he thought would have died along with the best friend who made it.

And you had done it all. Alone and without an ounce of assistance. And he had no idea. 

You had taken his dreams and shaped them into a reality.

Just like he did with you.

And for the first time, since he walked into the bakery, blindfolded and unaware, he finally moved of his own volition.

He set the container of sweet bread on the counter behind you and pulled you into a kiss so blinding, so searing, so overpowering that you were caught in between breaths, your lungs aching to stretch.

It was the only thing he could think to do. The only way he could try to say thank you for being the one constant in his life that had brought him nothing but consuming happiness when he believed he would only see and feel pain and grief. 

His touch was fervent against you, his hands cradling your cheeks, gliding along your neck, tilting your head up, up sharply so he could fall into you. And you reciprocated and caught him with the way your arms wrapped around him and the way your fingers tangled through the growing undercut at the nape of his neck.

The feel of wetness on your cheeks made you pull away from him, your hands descending from his hair to cup his cheeks, thumbing away faint traces of tears as he breathed shakily against you. He couldn’t stop them and didn’t shy away as you wiped them away as quickly as they fell. 

You were that beacon of light that he always looked for when he couldn’t seem to hold himself together. Even though he could barely open his mouth to express his gratitude, you still illuminated with unwavering brightness, seamlessly intertwining your fingers with his, guiding him forward without hesitation. 

You let out a gentle hum, feeling the remnants of familiar teasing tones vibrating along the skin of your lips. “I didn’t bring any tissues. Gojo won’t let you live this down if he sees your cheeks tear-stained,” you playfully remarked.

A harsh and wet chuckle bubbled from the middle of his chest, erupting from his throat as he sniffed pathetically and shot you an unheated glower.

“Stop teasing.”

A remark that might have seemed out of place to others but fit you both perfectly. Two words that he always murmured against your skin or playfully glared at you when you purposefully made him uncomfortable. It was something he loved, took pleasure in, and couldn’t imagine sharing those little mundane exchanges with anyone else.

“I love you,” he spoke softly, his words carrying an unwavering conviction and strength. 

You echoed the sentiment back just as strongly, your fingertips gliding along his sharp cheekbones, tracing down the slight upturned angle of his nose. 

The silence of the bakery was for once not as imposing as you rubbed your hands down his back, and Kento melted into your touch, his arms wrapping around your waist and drawing you closer. The scent and feel of you, unyielding and powerful against him, was still something he struggled to grasp—was only for him. 

He had his own plans for tonight. Had expected things to go a lot differently after dinner. Had worked through it in his mind over and over.

But as always, you had plans of your own. And, without complaint, he relinquished control and let you guide him.

“While I love you very much, Ken, we’re gonna be late for dinner if you don’t let go.” 

Those words, colored with a touch of humor, drifted into his ears and elicited another gentle chuckle from his chest before he pulled back and pressed his lips against yours. You were content to let him have just one more minute before pulling him out the door when—

“Oh!” you exclaimed, withdrawing from his lips abruptly. A surge of excitement coursed through your veins as you ignored his surprised expression, dark blonde eyebrows twitching with the urge to pout at being pulled from you too soon. Your hand instinctively dove into your coat pocket, retrieving your phone with nimble fingers. You eagerly sifted through emails until your eyes finally landed on what you had been searching for, flipping the phone around and pressing it to his chest. He gingerly took it from you, glancing over the contents and trying his best to ignore the sharp return of thumping in his chest.

“It’s just a drafted advertisement that I made with Jin,” you spoke proudly, fiddling with the lapels of his own dark brown wool trench coat. “I was able to organize a meeting with all of Yu’s previous employees, and they’ve all agreed to return whenever you decide to reopen.”

As you rambled on, your gaze remained fixated on the exquisite fabric of his coat—a gift from her mother—as you grounded yourself with its presence.

Kento was once again floored, his eyes tracing every detail that oozed your touch from your years of marketing experience. It was an ad that could be posted on social media, featuring a picture of the bakery and a short explanation of its upcoming reopening. 

To you, it was simple, quick to do, and without effort for many others. 

But to him, it was another token of your love freely given.

“The assistant manager even agreed to take over all morning shifts if you are still working at the company whenever it opens. We can do a ribbon cutting if you want! Or maybe a soft opening. I didn’t put a date for when it would open, but I was thinking after Ulani’s first birthday we could—”

“My love,” his voice cut you off, firm and tender. The hand not holding your phone cupped your cheek, guiding your gaze up to meet his. His naturally narrow eyes radiated affection, drawing you in with their burnt-umber warmth. “You’re rambling.”

Your voice caught in your throat, excitement and anxiety coiling and thrumming in equal rhythm. “I know,” you whispered. “I wanted to give you the option to submit it. It goes straight to Jin and he’ll have the company’s social media manager distribute it.” 

Your eyes flickered down to your phone in his hands, drawing Kento’s gaze back to the perfectly crafted advertisement on the screen, a bright green button labeled ‘SUBMIT’ catching his attention.

If you hadn’t gone above and beyond to turn the bakery into something Kento could call his own, he might have continued to stall for as long as possible. He would have lingered to order paint for the walls and waited until the last minute to redo the floors. Because even with his firm resolution when weeks ago he said to you that he was ready, a tinge of fear still lingered within him.

But seeing how much effort and support you had offered, showing him time and time again that he was ready, that you would be there to catch him if he ever fell, made him realize that he could face that fear with you by his side. And you were always by his side. 

Unquestionably. 

Unwaveringly.

In just a second, he pressed ‘submit’, a profound sense of accomplishment filling his chest, a feeling that never would have manifested if it weren’t for you. 

He gently placed the phone back into your coat pocket, his other hand cupping your exposed cheek. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, heating the blood beneath and lighting an inferno behind your eyes, the heat licking against them to coax a prickle of tears to bubble at the bottom of your lashes.

“Did you submit it?” you whispered, the heat of his breath caressing your lips.

“I did.”

“I’m glad.”

It was a familiar exchange between the two of you, reminiscent of the last time you had walked into the bakery after rushing from Rory’s studio with Ulani strapped to your chest. Back then, he had been somber, searching for answers from Yu’s spirit that still lingered within the walls. 

But now. Now as you responded, a sense of satisfaction flowed through you, knowing that he had his answer and could show Yu, in some way—if he was even watching—that his efforts had not been in vain.

“The fact that you did all of this for me…words cannot express how grateful I am for this. For you,” he uttered, his words washing over you effortlessly, brimming with adoration that only you would ever truly understand. You smiled up at him, wordlessly expressing your own gratitude and contentment that he was happy.

“You can show me how grateful you are. How about,” you began, enveloping your arms around his neck. You playfully tugged at the tip of one of his ears as his eyes traced over the features of your face, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “After dinner, you take on all responsibilities with Ulani tonight, draw me a bath, and then later…” you trailed off, a playful purr dancing in your words as your fingers traced a featherlight touch along his ear, watching with barely contained glee as he shuddered. “Later after we know Ulani is asleep…you do that thing I like.”

That thing in question was something that he only used for rare occasions, and the flickering memories of it had him blushing quickly and his hands sliding down to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that shook from your chest as he leaned down to place a wet kiss on your cheek once and then twice on the other side, before drawing back, your lips only a few centimeters apart and that recognizable faint smile on his face.

“Deal,” he whispered, slanting slightly chapped lips against yours, dragging you impossibly closer until there was no space between you both. 

Distantly, you remembered your reservations that you both would definitely be late for. 

And even though you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket with a text probably from Ome asking where you both were, the feel of his tongue sliding along your bottom lip in his well-known request for entrance made you ignore the second buzz that rattled your coat pocket.

Your friends could wait a few more minutes.

[sjsmith56]

Brooklyn - A Private Man, Chapter 18

Summary: While enjoying their honeymoon, Bucky and Tracey receive a nighttime visitor that triggers what he privately feared would happen and prepared secretly for.

Length: 5K

Characters: Bucky, Tracey, Nebula, John Walker.

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content which may not be suitable for readers under the age of 18. Contains violent content which may be disturbing. Major plot twist.

Author notes: I bet some of you thought that John Walker was going to be a good guy.  To be honest, until I wrote "End of the line" I didn't know if he was or not.  But now that he has declared himself ... it's going to be Bucky Barnes vs. John Walker in a battle of strength and wits.

<<Chapter 17

The breakfast, which arrived during another moment when Bucky and Tracey were indisposed, was just as good as dinner was the night before.  He smiled with loving amusement as Tracey once more stole food from his plate. 

"I think we should order extra food," he said.  "It's obvious that your body is craving more calories."

"I can't help it," she admitted.  "It's like whatever satisfied me before isn't enough anymore.  Then I see the bacon, eggs, and toast on your plate and my brain just goes into more food mode.  If I keep this up, I'm going to gain a ton of weight on this honeymoon and not fit into any of my clothes."

He shook his head.  "Not if your metabolism has ramped up," he explained.  "Your body is feeling warmer to me.  It could be a sign that you're burning it off quickly."

"Maybe, but a baby does need the mother to take in extra calories.  It's what allows them to grow in utero and gain the weight they need to survive outside of the body."  He had that smile on his face again, as Tracey spoke about biological processes.  "Don't grin at me.  It's true."

"Sorry, I'm not making fun of you," he smiled.  "You're a smart person and I love it when you show that.  I was so proud of how you held your own with Shuri.  She's a genius and you understood what she was talking about as if it was already familiar to you."

Tracey shrugged, finishing her last bite of food and washing it down with a full glass of milk.  A little burp escaped from her lips and she giggled.  She pushed herself away from the table and Bucky watched her as she went over to the now open door to the deck, looking out over the turquoise blue waters before them.  She turned around and his heart jumped inside his body at how incredibly beautiful she looked, in her nightgown and robe.

"What are we going to do today?" she asked.  "I thought I would be tired after all the travelling we did yesterday but I'm just full of energy."

"We could start with a walk along the beach," suggested Bucky.  "Wear our bathing suits so we could take a dip anytime we want.  Apparently, they have towel stations scattered along the entire beach, so we don't have to take anything with us."

"Alright, a plan," she exclaimed.  "Let's get our lunch picked first.  Do you think, if we asked, they would provide a snack when we got back from our walk?"

"I don't see why not."  He looked at the menu.  "It's on there, Mid-Morning Snack."

A gleam came to Tracey's eyes as she returned to the table and looked over the menu.  "We can order a hamper of food and take it with us on a golf cart to a private beach.  They suggest we reserve snorkels and fins to explore the reef there.  Oh Bucky, we have to do that.  I've never snorkelled before."

He looked at the information.  "Sure, it has to be reserved the day before.  Do you want to do that tomorrow?"

Nodding with excitement she put her arms around his neck and kissed him.  Pulling her onto his lap he kissed her back, smiling as she shifted so she was straddling him.  Her body was warmer and he noticed during their morning passion that the bites he inflicted on her were fully healed and the bruises fading.  It was definitely proof of a change she was undergoing.  Leaning towards his ear Tracey breathed softly on it before she whispered.

"We can enjoy each other first before we take our walk, right?"

"Absolutely," he replied, feeling his body immediately respond to her.  "Let's get our food choices down first then we can go back to the bedroom."

Tracey didn't pout but she did sigh a little and he had to hide his amusement at this aspect of her personality coming out.  There had been hints of it in the time they lived together but her usual reserved self had been more dominant.  This bubbly, expressive version of her was very appealing, especially during their honeymoon.  As he read off their food choices for a snack, then for lunch she made her preferences known.  He chose his, then added some extra food, knowing if she didn't eat it he easily could.  Leaving the menu on the table beside the dishes, he carried her into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

The curtains were still drawn so he pulled the room darkening ones open, leaving the light sheer ones in place to let in light but still give them privacy if anyone was passing by.  Even though they had been assured that no one would Bucky still took precautions.  Climbing on the bed with her still wrapped around his waist he released her onto to the rumpled bedclothes.  Lazily, Tracey pulled her robe off, pushing it onto the floor, then lifted her nightgown over her head, tossing it aside as well.  Laying back she stretched her arms forward, reaching out to his face to caress it.  There was a significant stubble on it as he hadn't shaved since the day before.

"Do you want me to shave first?" he asked, gazing at her intently.

She shook her head.  "Take your shirt off," she ordered.  Sitting back on his heels he did as she asked, smiling as she reached up and smoothed her hands over his chest and abdominal muscles.  "I love your body." Her whispered declaration went straight to him, making him hard.  He wore cotton drawstring bottoms, and she tugged on the string, undoing it, then pulling the waist down over his hips, revealing his erection.  "I love this, too."

Her soft hands gently cradled him, and he closed his eyes, enjoying her touch on him.  Settling down between her bent knees he kissed her lower abdomen, then towards her hips before moving down to her thighs.  Her folds were already glistening with her desire, and he gently touched her with his tongue, hearing her gasp at the same moment she opened her legs further. 

"I want you in me," she whispered.  "Please."

Kicking his bottoms off of his legs he ran his fingers through her wet entry, then transferred it to his cock before licking the remnants off of his fingers.  Gently he entered into her warm wet centre, both of them moaning as he did so.  She felt even better than she did earlier in the morning, and he mouthed her breasts as he began rhythmically thrusting into her.  The response in her was punctuated by her soft moans and touches on his shoulders and back.  Like the first night they spent together her fingertips found the seam between his shoulder insert and skin, tracing it and making his own response increase.  When it finally reached its crescendo, with Tracey pulling him deeply into her at the moment of her coming he came too, unable to resist it any further.  Then he buried his face in her neck, kissing and mouthing the soft skin of her pulse point before raising his head to gaze at her, his wife, his beautiful pregnant wife.  She gazed at him, equally as enthralled as he was with her.

"It's like I'm seeing you in a whole new light," she said softly, her fingers roaming through his hair.  "There's an air about you, like you're the centre of my universe, and what we just felt was ... divine.  That sounds sacrilegious, not that I am a believer having been witness to the hypocrisy firsthand.  Does that sound strange?"

He shook his head.  "No, making this baby has done something to both of us, I think.  I like kids, always have, but this baby, that's my child.  I created it with you, in a moment of desire and love.  I'd give my life to keep you both safe."

Placing his head on her chest, they both laid there, listening to the other breathe as Tracey continued running her fingers into Bucky's hair.  The white painted bedroom with exposed eaves had become their sanctuary and they felt completely at peace with everything.  The sounds of the staff coming in to clear the breakfast dishes away spurred Bucky to get up, quickly putting his bottoms on and covering Tracey up with the duvet.  Pulling his T-shirt on he opened the door.

"My wife and I will be out of your way soon," he said.  "Breakfast was delicious."

She couldn't quite make out the response from the staff person but when Bucky stepped back in, he was smiling.  Heading to the bathroom she could hear him turn the water on, realizing he was setting the temperature, just for her.  Always thoughtful of her needs.  How lucky was she to have this man in her life?  Pulling the covers back she picked up her robe and nightgown, hanging them up on a hook in the bathroom. 

Bucky stripped down and together they stood under the large overhead shower fixture.  Using the beautifully scented body wash provided they washed each other.  Tracey stepped out first, putting her hair up in a towel so she could wash her face properly, applying moisturizer after.  She had already decided to go without makeup, thinking the humidity of the island would make it look messy anyways.  Bucky, who was just drying off stepped behind her and removed her hair towel.  He finger combed her hair then looked at her through the mirror.

"Would you let me French braid your hair?" he asked.  "I used to do Rebecca's all the time, before school."

Tracey's face broke out into a huge smile, and she reached inside her cosmetic bag, looking for a hair elastic and her large comb.  His touch was gentle as he used the comb to completely detangle her hair, then he divided it up into three sections and braided a single braid from the crown of her head down until there was only a few inches of her hair left.  His large hands were sure in his movements, proof he had done it many times before.  Taking the hair elastic, he tied off the braid then curled the remaining length of her hair around his fingers so that it would dry that way.  He finished off by kissing her neck. 

"I can apply some sunscreen while I'm here," he said.  "Don't want you to burn on the first full day of our honeymoon."

Pulling the tube out she handed it to him and enjoyed the sensation of him smoothing the lotion over her back.  He had even pre-warmed it in his hands first.  When Tracey's back was done Bucky smiled cheekily at her and she turned around, recognizing he wanted to smooth it over her front as well.  They almost had another indisposed moment until he backed away with his hands up, wiping the excess lotion over himself.  She returned the favour, smoothing sunscreen over his back.  Stepping back into the bedroom he pulled his swim shorts on then a clean T-shirt, while she put her bikini on, a blue one that revealed a lot.  With a sigh, Bucky opened the door to the living room / dining area.  He plugged his phone in to charge then waited for Tracey to emerge from the bedroom.  She wore a white sun hat and walked right past him to the stairs from the deck, looking up at him from the top one.

"Wait," said Bucky.  "I want a picture of this.  It can be my pinup picture of you when I'm on a mission."

He snapped a picture of her with his phone then returned it to the charging cord.  Taking her by the hand they began walking towards the beach and stood for a moment deciding which way to go.  Choosing left, they began their walk and explored the beach, picking up empty shells or rocks, then discarding them.  It was already hot, and both were glad to be wearing the sunscreen.  With the realization that this was to be the plan for each day of their stay they took their time, sometimes wading in the water, other times looking out over the turquoise blue waters and just taking in the scene.  It was perfect and neither felt like they had to be doing something other than being in the moment.

There were more such moments throughout the day, right up to them walking along the beach again at sunset, feeling the soft warm breeze against their skin.  Tracey asked Bucky about his senses, admitting that she felt like she could hear more, like the sound of a seabird's wing flapping as it passed high above them just then.  He confirmed the sound and hugged her, wanting her to feel safe to share the changes she was experiencing.

The following day they went to the snorkelling area with their cooler of food, with Bucky following a map as he drove the golf cart along the hard packed path to the private beach.  After showing Tracey how to snorkel they both were amazed to see a sea turtle just yards away in the water with them, watching as it paddled past, seemingly uncaring about their presence.  So enjoyable was the experience that on their return Bucky inquired about snorkelling elsewhere and found they could do a half day excursion to the larger reef a little further away on Andros Island across from where they were located, so he booked it for the following day. 

After a cool shower, followed by staying in bed the rest of the afternoon, with Bucky mostly watching Tracey napping, they had their dinner outside on the deck, then relaxed on a couple of lounge chairs on the beach as the sun went down.  When it was dark Bucky reached out for Tracey's hand, suggesting she share his lounge chair.  Together they watched the stars drop down into the water, kissing and caressing in the dark stillness with only the sound of the water lapping against the shore nearby.  With their arms around each other's waist, they returned to the villa, where Bucky locked everything up except the doors from their bedroom leading to the deck.  With whispered murmurs of adoration, they made love quietly and gently, taking their time in exploring each other's bodies in ways that were pleasing to both of them. 

The snorkelling excursion was a highlight, as they joined a couple of other honeymooning couples on the boat that took them to the reef.  The other couples had recognized Bucky but once they talked on the boat ride accepted they were just another couple on their honeymoon.  The water here was shallower making the colours of the fish, sea sponges and an assortment of other reef creatures pop in their brilliancy.  Pictures were taken, although both Bucky and Tracey tried to stay in the background.  They did have a good time and met up later for drinks although only Bucky drank alcohol as Tracey said she was a teetotaller.  A golf cart from the resort picked them up from the bar and dropped them off at the villa.  With Tracey falling asleep almost immediately after they made love Bucky sat out on the deck and watched the night sky for another hour or so before finally joining her in bed. 

The next two days passed just as idyllically with them enjoying the calm atmosphere and nurturing environment.  Bucky surprised Tracey with a full body massage and luxury skin treatment while he went fishing on the fifth day, invited by one of the other new husbands.  He caught some fish that was prepared for them by the kitchen staff at the resort.  Both of them couldn't believe the tenderness of the fish as they ate their dinner.  There was only one full day left of their honeymoon as the seventh day would be dominated by travelling back to New York, so Bucky arranged for a romantic dinner on the beach.  It was perfect as it ended with a repeat of Bucky's playlist on their first date when he cooked dinner for her and served it in the back yard with all the fairy lights up.  They danced in their bare feet on the beach, a soft breeze making Tracey's dress billow out slightly and wisps of her hair framing her face in such a way that Bucky couldn't help but gaze adoringly at her. 

As they slept after making love a metallic sound alerted Bucky's sleeping mind that something was amiss and he opened his eyes, taking a moment for them to adjust in the dark.  He watched as a figure approached the bed on his side, reaching for him and he grasped their hand, hearing a gasp coming from whomever it was.  They were strong but his adrenaline was flowing, and he pushed the person against the wall, then turned on the bedside lamp ready to fight whoever it was.  Tracey was awakened by the light and sat up, shocked to see a blue metallic skinned woman with no hair crouched in the corner.

"Nebula?" asked Bucky loudly.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

"They know you're here," she said, in that odd almost whispery voice of hers.  "I was taking your arm so you would be useless to them and perhaps they would leave you alone."

"Who is they?" he demanded, then he realized as soon as he asked it.  "How did you find me?  How did you know they found me?"

She looked nervously at him then at Tracey.  "They talked about it at the wedding, about Ross and Fontaine trying to force you back into your previous life."  She looked down at her own body for a moment.  "I know what it's like to be seen just as a killing machine.  I'm sorry, I should have wakened you first.  We have to go, now."

At that moment the sound of a helicopter cut through the quiet outside, and they could see a light searching, its beams cutting through the gaps in the curtains.  Bucky looked at Tracey.

"Put some clothes on now," he ordered then he looked at Nebula.  "Do you have weapons?"

"Just what's on me," she said apologetically.  "They found you through social media, a thing called Facebook.  Your picture, with your wife, as you were swimming underwater.  I was watching them, angry at what they were trying to force you into, and when I realized what they were planning I tried to get here first."

Bucky went to the closet and pulled out a bag he hadn't unpacked.  Without modesty he pulled his pyjama bottoms off and pulled on his combat pants, then pulled his leather jacket out.  He reached inside the bag, and took out a box, opening it to reveal a set of combat knives, inserting them into slots in the right leg of his pants.

"As long as it was in checked luggage, I could bring this," he explained to Tracey who was wearing jeans, a T-shirt and her sneakers.  "Nebula, I'm going to give you my arm because you're not the first person to suggest removing it to lower my usefulness to them.  Do you have your ship here?"

"The pod," she replied.  "What do you want me to do?"

"Give me all that you have, except for one weapon," he said.  "I'm going to lead them away and you're going to get my wife out of here."

"Bucky no!" exclaimed Tracey.  "We stay together."

"No, they want me but if they have you, they'll use you to make me do what they want," he said, approaching her.  Gently he touched her face.  "I meant what I said about what you mean to me.  Go with Nebula, she's a good fighter and with her pod she can get you out of here quickly."  He pressed the sequence on his shoulder to pop his arm off and put it inside the bag his gear had been in, then put his jacket on, amazing Tracey as he zipped it up one-handed and handed it to Nebula.  "Take it to a safe place and tell them to look after it until they can give it back to me."

Grabbing the phone as he heard the sound of yelling outside he had enough time to send a text to Sam, entering only the word Brooklyn before sending it, then he gave the phone to Tracey and kissed her.  Nebula gave him her weapons, keeping only a firearm, then she grasped the bag containing the arm tightly and nodded to Tracey.

"Stay close to me," she said.  "The pod isn't far away."

They all went out into the main part of the villa where Bucky went to the door leading to the beach, while Nebula and Tracey went to the door that led to the pathway.  With a nod at each other they all bolted through the doors.  At first Tracey had trouble keeping up with Nebula but the cyborg adjusted her pace and made sure that Tracey was right behind her.  They ran down the path until they came to a side path, and she turned down that, stopping at a clearing beside what looked like a weird underwater sea vehicle made of glass and metal.  It even had arms.  Activating a control on the side, one of the metal portions slid over and Nebula beckoned to Tracey to get inside.  She closed the panel once she was inside, started it up then turned to Tracey.

"I'm still going to help him," she said.  "This pod is modified and is armed.  I'll try to take out anyone who is chasing him."

Tracey gave a little shriek as the pod lifted into the air.  She hadn't strapped herself in and did it quickly as Nebula skimmed along the treetops searching for Bucky's heat signature.  Quickly she located him and went after those who were chasing him, while keeping an eye on the helicopter, not wanting to take fire from it if she could help it.  After successfully taking out several of the pursuers she landed ahead of Bucky, opening the panel so he could hop in.  He saw her and nodded his understanding, making a beeline for her when he suddenly stopped and began jerking as if someone had unleashed a taser at him.

"Bucky!" screamed Tracey, and she fumbled with her straps to go to him, but he waved her back, desperately trying to remove the taser leads when he was hit with another jolt.  Looking up at her helplessly he said the words that with her heightened sense of hearing could hear as clear as anything.  "Go!  Get her out of here!"

"Sorry," whispered Nebula and she raised the pod quickly, taking it up high into the sky as Tracey wept.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, through her sobs, realizing she was rising high into the atmosphere.

"Knowhere," replied Nebula.  "It's where we live but will take some time to get there."

"No," said Tracey, her voice becoming stronger.  "Take me to Wakanda.  I'm pregnant and if you take me into space, it will expose me to radiation which could hurt the baby."  Nebula looked back at the human woman, debating whether she should do it.  "We need to tell them who has Bucky so they can mount a rescue for him.  If we leave for your place, it will take too long.  Please.  He is my life, my love, and my husband.  Help me."

For the longest time the cyborg said nothing although even on her metallic face Tracey could see the indecision.  "Alright, Wakanda," said Nebula finally, setting a course.

Tracey pulled the phone out of her back pocket and tried to use it to call Sam but there was no signal.  Until they arrived at Wakanda they were out of contact.  As they flew across the ocean towards Africa, Tracey undid her straps and approached Nebula, standing next to her.  The cyborg woman glanced at her.

"You wish to ask me something," she stated.

"You're a cyborg," said Tracey.  "Did you start out as a biological being?"

"At birth, then my species adds enhancements," replied Nebula.  "But my father, Thanos, began replacing my biological parts with cybernetic ones, partly as torture and partly as punishment."

"But you feel emotions?" asked Tracey.  "You came to help Bucky, which means he meant something to you."

"We share things in common," said the blue skinned woman, deflecting the question.  "He was changed against his will by those who tortured him.  I know the vibranium arm is stronger than any other arm in this world.  Without it, he is less valuable to those who took him."

"Did you know of the one he had before?"

Nebula's black eyes gazed on Tracey.  "I never saw it, but I understand it was solely an instrument of death that he tried to rip from his body many times.  I know that feeling.  Why are you asking me these questions?"

"You're the first cyborg person I've ever met," said Tracey.  "In our culture, it's usually seen as something evil, but you aren't.  I think you were forced to do many wrong things by those who had control over you but once you had control over yourself your true nature came forth.  Thank you for trying to help Bucky.  I appreciate it."

She stared at Tracey again for some time.  "You're welcome."

They said nothing more as the pod travelled across the ocean in the night, speeding towards sanctuary in Wakanda.

As Nebula raised the pod Bucky watched the terrified expression on Tracey's face when they left him behind.  She would be safe.  That was all that mattered.  Gritting his teeth against the pain of the tasers that were directed at him he became aware of being surrounded by several dark clothed individuals, all with balaclavas on, pointing their firearms at him.  The sound of a helicopter landing nearby and approaching footsteps indicated that his captor was near.  Bucky prepared to launch himself at the person with all of the energy he had left, hoping to make the point that he wasn't going to be taken without a fight.  That opportunity didn't come as he also heard the sound of a magazine being inserted into a handgun and it touching his ear.

"End of the line," said the familiar voice, who started laughing.  "I can't believe you fell for my sob story."

"John," spat Bucky.  "Should have known you were the linchpin." 

Rough hands lifted him up and he looked into the blue eyes of John Walker, who smirked at him.  "You really are easy to convince of wanting to turn over a new leaf."  He looked at the others.  "Where's his wife?"

"She got away," said one of them, "with a blue cyborg, female.  Looks like she beat us here first.  Uh, Boss, his arm isn't there."

John glared at the man.  "What do you mean?  Where the hell is it?"  He struck Bucky across the face, bringing the taste of blood to his mouth.  "Where's your arm?"

Bucky shrugged.  "Halfway to Knowhere," he said, receiving a punch in the stomach from Walker for the answer.

As he tried to get his breath back, he watched as Walker walked up to a palm tree, punching it in two, furious that they had their man, but he was hobbled as an asset.  Bucky grinned.  Walker still didn't have control of his emotions.  It would be easy to manipulate him into making mistakes.

"Send a team to get his sister," said Walker.

"Too late," stated Bucky.  "Had a prearranged code with Sam and was able to send it.  By now they're already in a secure location.  You never were very good at keeping up with the pros."

With a yell Walker launched himself at Bucky, hitting him over and over again.  Bucky took it, not even defending himself against it, knowing it would show Walker as weak and a bully.  Finally, with a kick to Bucky's midsection as he lay on the ground Walker stopped and looked at his men.

"Get him to the chopper," he ordered.  "Confirm that his sister is gone."

They dragged him to the helicopter, throwing him into a seat and buckling him in.  As they lifted off several of the men took their balaclavas off and Bucky recognized most of them as being with Thaddeus Ross when they tried to take him at his house.  There must be big money, corporate money, behind this operation.  Sam, Rhodey, and the others had speculated in private conversations with Bucky that it appeared the impetus from all of this wasn't the government.  He also wondered if Nebula would take Tracey to Knowhere, giving the arm to Rocket, or to Wakanda, hoping for the latter.  Space flight would expose Tracey to radiation, and he knew she wouldn't agree to it.  If she was able to talk Nebula into going to Wakanda then she would be with Rebecca and Janice, as Sam would make sure both got there.  It was the safest place for all of them, even if this team that Ross was assembling was going to try and infiltrate the country.  Ross really had no idea who or what they were up against and now that Bucky was on the inside, he would do all he could to sabotage them.  It's what he agreed to take on if they ever succeeded in taking him.  His mission was just beginning.

Chapter 19>>

Series Masterlist

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[fluidity-stupidity]

How I studied Jungian's 'Shadow Work'

I've mentioned on here before that I suggest to every individual, witch or non-witch, to do their shadow work and to make sure they do their due when researching about the Map of Soul before they start to actually delve into their own shadow. I've seen a lot of witches actually fail to realize that what they are doing is not shadow work, but martyrdom. Here I'm going to list a few resources and how I went about researching the Jungian Shadow Archetype.

RESOURCES:

Map of the Soul: An introduction - Murray Stein

Map of the Soul - Persona: Our Many Faces - Murray Stein

Carl Jung: Wounded Healer of the Soul - Claire Dunn

Meeting the Shadow: The Hidden Power of the Dark Side of Human Nature - Many Authors

I was in the twelfth grade when I started to research shadow work. I met my heart with the k-pop group BTS and they introduced me to a self-healing, self-love concept of Jungian psychology called 'Map of the Soul'. Like most, BTS's concepts of the Shadow, the Persona, the Ego, they were all personal and I felt a deep connection to both BTS and Jungian psychology at the same time. I was in In-School-Suspension when I started to research, I was excusing myself from the class-work that I should have been doing, when in reality, I was reading Murray Stein's Map of the Soul - Persona: Our Many Faces - the book that introduced BTS's RM to the concept of Jungian psychology. I knew it was a deep and personal meaning for every single song, even a song like Dimple (So I'll call you illegal-girl XD). I wanted to deeper the connection with myself as well. I love myself. The message they were spreading.

Beginning the research was not the task I thought it was. I took thorough careful notes. I took at least one quote per paragraph, high-lighting it as well as writing it in a notebook.

EXAMPLE: "Jung wanted to create a complete map of the psyche, so this was unavoidable: ego-consciousness is a prime feature of the territory he was exploring." - Murray Stein's Map of the Soul - Persona: Our Many Faces, Chapter 1 - paragraph 2

Every quote I found that touched my heart, head, and lungs, I wrote on a sticky and placed it in the same said notebook.

EXAMPLE: "Having an ego is like a built-in mirror within the consciousness." - Murray Stein's Map of the Soul - Persona: Our Many Faces, Chapter 1 - paragraph 17

Of course you don't have to be as thorough, what I thought started out as a potential future career in psycho-analaysis turned out to be a hyper-fixation, still on-going but an on-again, off-again situation-ship type hobby. Shadow work **is** not meant for everyone, but doing shadow work is better than not doing anything at all to better yourself, which is the point in witchcraft and a lot of non-spiritual spaces (life in general). (not naming names, but certain book *cough cough* like the one off of the clock app *cough cough*, will only lead any one and every one down a path of martyrization.

[babyseraphim]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @emryses, thank you for always tagging me in such fun things!!

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 11

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 122,112

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write pretty much exclusively for Dead Boy Detectives, but I have a oneshot for Marvel from 2017, and an unfinished AU for Critical Role that I'll probably never go back to

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

By Lantern's Light

my healing needed more than time

foolish flame

The Case of the Selkie's Skin

Overloaded

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do when I have the time and energy. All my free time is kind of eaten up by writing the fics themselves, so unless the comment is really long or really funny, I usually don't respond. But I appreciate every comment just the same, they are what keep me motivated to write

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I honestly don't really do fics with angsty endings? Because all of my fics are super angsty in general, so I like to end things on a positive note. I guess the closest would be The Case of the Selkie's Skin because there's not really any closure there, they just move onto the next case. But even that one still has a cathartic ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

foolish flame for sure. A lot of my fic endings tend to be bittersweet in some way, but this one was a pure fluffy ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah. I don't think I've been regularly posting fics long enough for that.

9. Do you write smut?

I have written smut exactly once, and while it was a really cathartic/rewarding experience, I don't know if I'll ever do it again. It's a little too far out of my comfort zone.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, crossovers aren't really my thing, though I have toyed with the idea of writing a dead boy detectives/pushing daises crossover just for the hell of it. But it probably won't ever make it onto paper.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and the idea of it kinda scares me lol

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Literally changes day to day. I think kirk/spock is the one that will truly own my heart forever, but payneland really is the perfect ship for me (hence all the fanfiction)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Case of Eros's Arrow, which is sitting with 4 chapters on AO3. I still like the concept of it, and my OCs in it, but my writing has changed so much since I started it and I just don't really feel connected to the work itself anymore. Which is a shame, because I left my readers on a total cliffhanger. Whoops.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do alright with descriptive prose (or I enjoy writing it, at the very least). I'm also good at worldbuilding and coming up with fun/creative plots.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Transitions between scenes, and general construction of dialogue (though I've gotten better at dialogue over recent months). I can also get a little ramble-y when it comes to introspection, though I'm usually pretty good about cutting it all down by the time the final draft is done.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't have many thoughts on it. I only speak english, and the only language I've ever used in my fics besides english is Latin (for magic purposes).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Supernatural, I think? It was OC fanfiction, I still have it floating around this blog somewhere

20. Favorite fics you've written?

dye it all, rosary I think is my favorite right now. I don't know what the fuck I was on when I wrote that fic, but I wrote chapter 1 in one sitting, and then chapter 2 over the course of a few months. It turned out so much better than I ever could have hoped, and I just truly love it so much.

I also love my healing needed more than time because it has all the stuff that I love in it (magic, lesbians, dogs, kids, and other fun stuff to come). I'm also just really proud that I've managed to stick with it as long as I have; it's the first piece of writing over 14k that I've ever written in my life.

I tag: @many-gay-magpies, @deadtwinksdetectiveagency, @williamvapespeare, and @the-ipre!

[jules-writes-stories]

Thank you so so much for tagging me @zenkindoflove (I think you tagged me lol, I can't remember now) and @fieldofdaisiies

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I'm a baby fan fic writer, so only 5! (but I have 3 more WIP on the way...)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? <- BABY. How do I figure this out? I mean, other than mathing?

3. What fandoms do you write for? ACOTAR

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows | Azris

Held Close, Like a Secret | Azris

Into the Night | Azris

Heart of Gold | Elucien

Valkyrie | Emerie

5. Do you respond to comments? Always! I love engaging with readers.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Angst is necessary to any longer fic, but I rarely play for keeps, at least where my OTPs are concerned. The saddest fic I've written is probably my Eris Week fic "Monster" which isn't posted yet. But even that ends on a hopeful note (I think?).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm pretty proud of my ending of Into the Night, my Azris retelling of Hades x Persephone.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do, but only included in a larger work. I've written Azris, OCs, and Elucien... and maybe a little LoA/Helion that might be coming in future JEL chapters (spoiler lol).

9. Do you write crossovers? Not yet

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet, but sounds fun

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Azris! I have a soft spot for elucien, and Helion/LoA. Oh! And Thesan and his Peregryn. I want to write them so badly! I didn't follow directions for this question. Sorry. Azris is my OTP.

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? This summer I started writing Amarantha's origin story, and I really want to finish it, but I keep getting sidetracked. Stories gnaw away at me until I get them out though, so I generally finish what I start. It's a sickness.

14. What are your writing strengths? I don't know? I've been told I write dialogue well. Sometimes I will act out character interactions because that's totally normal. I like descriptions too. Not sure I'm good at it, but I love a metaphor lol.

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  My comfort zone is with short fiction and poetry, so I worry about timing/not having a good enough plot/arc for longer fics.

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It is fun, but hard. I speak several languages (poorly) so I try to sprinkle words in that I know.

17. First fandom you wrote for? I'm a trembling new born FF writer, so, ACOTAR. But long time reader. My first fan fic was maybe Harry Potter? (Surprise! A little Drarry grew up to be an Azris, lol)

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows is the love of my life, but I'm really proud of my Eris Week fic Monster, which I'm posting for Day 3!

No pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged): @the-darkestminds @c-starstuff-man0 @unanswered-stars @mistandmemories @chunkypossum

[lord-squiggletits]

For the fic-writers' asks, if you fancy them:

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

4. What detail in We Are The Music-Makers are you really proud of?

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Ask source

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Is it cheating to say Pay Unto Evil? It's not just because it's my most popular fic by all metrics, the longest project I've written, and the first complete novel I've ever completed, though. I just feel like, particularly in the later chapters, it's a good introduction to the themes that I often write about (mental health/suicidality, searches for meaning, bonds with other people, etc) and is the most complete summary of who I am as a writer in a way.

Though, if someone were to prefer something lighter, I'd honestly recommend An Endless Form Most Beautiful because out of all my fics that I started a year or two ago, I feel like AEFMB is the one that holds up the most strongly w.r.t. prose, characterization, romantic pacing, mystery, and so on. It's also dark, but far less grueling than PUE.

(On that note, it kind of amazes me how many people have told me they found PUE to be more depressing/hard to read than WATMM, considering the latter involves a bittersweet ending w/ major character death.)

4. What detail in We Are The Music-Makers are you really proud of?

Off the top of my head, I'd say that it'd be 1. Orion and Megatron interfacing right after escaping prison and basically cementing their love/bond with each other for the high emotion of the moment. I like how it (and moreso their later interface during their rebellion period) is incredibly romantic and affirming and shows how M/OP uphold each other's best traits, but it's also a little dark in that they're clearly codependent on each other and almost... not sane/well when they're not together.

Or 2. The major character deaths in chapter 6, both how I built up to them and how the characters actually died. That one is because that plot point was one I came up with from the very night I conceptualized WATMM, so in my mind, it had a lot of buildup to it. I knew what was going to happen from the start, and it was one of (if not the) most important climaxes of the story, so I was incredibly keen to be sure that the actual execution of it matched what had been in my mind for a year or more by the time I finally wrote it.

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

I'm really keen on the stuff I've been cooking for Cityspeaker AU Tarnma as far as the psychology of a Titan goes. Like, Tarn is a sort of eldritch being (already a fun concept in its own right) that has a sort of collectivist mindset; not in a hivemind kind of way, but his sense of scale and level of awareness is so broad, and he's literally a living nest/colony for his smaller species members to live on. The way that anatomical differences pave the way for massive differences in perspective. Hell, the concept has even opened my mind in general to the concept of like... almost insect colony-esque Cybertronian interspecies symbiotic relationships.

On top of all the mechanical and worldbuilding aspects of it, it's also been really fun to ponder how being a Titan would then in turn alter Tarn's characterization. Pharma's characterization is more or less a slightly different angle on what exists in canon, but for Tarn he has this massive shift in perspective that changes a lot. Not least of which is that Tarn is Tarn without having been converted by Megatron, but he's also not Tarn of the DJD that we know in canon, and neither is he Damus/Glitch. So there's just a lot to play around with there in terms of defining Titan!Tarn's key traits as carried over from canon, and how he'd express himself while also being an eldritch being that Pharma needs training to even talk to without dying.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

IDW1 MegOP role reversal AU in which Megatron is a cop and Orion is a miner. No one else swapped: so for example, Megatron would be around people like Ratchet, Roller, and Senator Shockwave, and Orion would have Impactor and Terminus.

I think it'd be hella interesting to see how differently everything would go if M and OP were in swapped positions. Like as an example, Megatron probably would've been more conscious of stuff like Senator Shockwave putting the Matrix casing in him without asking and be aware that he was being manipulated somehow. Orion would very likely reject Terminus' teachings on how leadership is lonely and you have to cut off all your relationships so you can sit on the heights and do what you need to do. Or then again, maybe Terminus would be a slightly less evil (but still toxic) influence on Orion making him have the same martyr complex he has in canon.

And you could even do further splits from there like how Megatron deals with increasing evidence of corruption in the government, or how Orion would handle killing someone for the first time in the arena. You could fuck around with whether Megatron becomes the Prime or if Orion still does somehow. Honestly, I feel like in this scenario, M and OP would be way more likely to be able to meet peacefully and help each other out because... it just feels right to me that they would be able to see the evils and prevent their moral downfalls, but only when walking in the other's shoes.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

I think there's a list of fics that've pushed me in some way or another, honestly:

Pay Unto Evil and The Wicked for finding a way to fit reasonably accurate psychology/therapy into a dramatic story, but without falling into purely clinical explanations for things or making it seem "therapy speak" ish

Cityspeaker AU/Un solo cuerpo is currently pushing me on how to accurately translate characterization from canon to an AU that's so wildly divergent from it, given that I'm normally extremely canon compliant and tend to work off canon divergence rather than completely making up a new AU with a different premise and new lore. This is my first plotfic that, imo, could be more accurately described as continuity soup/original continuity rather than being strictly IDW-based (honorable mentions to Let the Poets Pipe of Love for also having this conundrum)

Every single plug and play scene I've written, PWP or plot, for pushing me to try to describe eroticism from an entirely alien perspective without falling back on human-like sticky sex

For Once, Nothing is Burning, because writing a multichapter plot-focused story where there's literally only two characters present and they are each other's sole source of social interaction (and where the POV character is largely stuck in one place for most of the story) is harder than you think it'd be for someone who's been writing Megatron and Optimus as long as I have

Through the bitter, sweetness: Because trying to describe the eroticism of a foot fetish through strictly a written medium was a big challenge for a kink I see as way more visual/tactile and hard to make appealing with words/imagination alone.

No comment on how it's affected my ability to write moving forward because I basically forget about every story I write as soon as it's done AND because my brain is soup and I can barely keep up with real life, much less look back on hobby writing and do some sort of style study/reflection on it.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged in the 20 Questions game by @the-little-moment and @kybercrystals94! It was fun to read both of your answers too! :D

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

15, although one of them is a collection containing multiple short stories :)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

160,403. That's 3x 30k multi-chapter fics and the rest short stories :)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment, The Bad Batch. I have fond attachment to older stories for Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West, and Iron Kingdoms as well.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1/ System Upgrade The Kaminoans upgrade Echo's cybernetics before he is cleared to join the Batch, and then he has to bond with his new squad. 2/ A Fair Price To Pay Crosshair is determined to break Omega out of Tantiss. Along the way, she saves him too. 3/ Test Subject Originally a one-shot, now the prequel/first part of System Upgrade. Echo being experimented on by the Kaminoans. 4/ Beach Days & Hair Braiding Nothing but sweet, tooth-rotting, brotherly fluff. Hunter, Omega and Crosshair on Pabu. 5/ Phobia 300 words, Omega helps the Batch deal with an unwelcome 8-legged guest ;)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I'm an inherently social creature. I always want you to know how much your comment means to me, and it's even better when we get a conversation going.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm, this is probably a draw between Soup Of The Day and Presumed Dead. Definitely no positive outlook at the end of those.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Another toss-up between Beach Days & Hair Braiding and Human Weapon aka. the Birthday Cake Fic. Both set with everyone living happily on Pabu and both end with Hunter and Crosshair starting to regain some of their old brotherly closeness :)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven't yet, apart from getting caught up in the AO3 bot comment fiasco!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do ;) My flavour is more to do with the emotional connection and closeness between two people who trust each other very much, M rather than E rating. I love a love story :')

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No but I get to brainstorm them all the time with @ninjadeathblade! The craziest one? There's been so many! But I want to say The Bad Batch/Mamma Mia crossover. Nobody was finding out who Omega's dad was in that because all the clones have the same DNA XD

11. (Question 11 was missing! So I wrote my own!) Which fic are you proud of but wish had gotten a bigger response from your readers?

Welcome To The Outpost got off to a slow start, and I wonder if it's because for half of the story it didn't include a single main character from the show? But the people who did read left such wonderful comments so I shall continue to consider this fic my underrated gem!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Adrenaline Crash by the fabulous @tech-o-mania

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

None of my published ones, but I literally spent my teen years writing fic by passing notes back and forth in class, me and my friends taking it in turns to add a few lines to the story!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't think I have one? I am fairly open to reading anything and know how to use the back button if I don't like it. It's less about the characters involved and more about reading the same idiots-to-lovers trope in as many different ways possible.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Well it would be lovely to finish all my Iron Kingdoms inspired stories because I'm so attached to them, but it's also so sprawling and I have only me to motivate myself so... I guess that's not happening ^^;

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think it's the occasional absolutely devastating heart-breaking descriptive prose that sneaks its way into my writing :P

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Over-punctuation ^^; I tend to add punctuation every time I pause for thought, which means at times, there really isn't a lot of flow, to my writing, because the little reset counter in my head, forgets when the last time I stopped for a proper break is. Then I have to go back and edit it into sensible length sentences!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I have only used fantasy languages, but in Iron Kingdoms a large part of my main character's drive was her heritage so language played a significant part in that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Final Fantasy 8! Oh so long ago and sad to have lost it in many computer transfers since then. I think everyone should keep the fics they wrote when they were 14. I worked so hard on that story ;_;

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I have a lot of favourites but my number one is probably Adrenaline Crash. I am feral for Feral Hunter.

Tagging if you'd like to play! :- @royallykt @theproblemwithstardust @lifblogs @holdingonforheaven @tech-o-mania @fanfoolishness and anyone else who fancies copying the questions and letting me know about your writing ^_^

[minijenn]

Getting a lot of asks about my apparent plans for UF2 based on the old chapter list, so I went through and wrote out everything I could remember for these chapters based on only their titles and the very sparse handful of notes I still have on hand. Enjoy!

Arc 1: A Wheel in the Woods

Prologue: Welcome to the Universe: Idk, establishing a bunch of behinds the scene shit particularly with Homeworld I guess

Chapter 1: Back to the Falls: Reunion, everyone coming back to Gravity Falls and meeting up again

Chapter 2: Journal 4: Dipper starts writing his own journal (Ford probs gives him a blank one) ala what the end of Journal 3 implies

Chapter 3: Prior Engagement: Soos and Melody get engaged?? I think?

Chapter 4: Gravity Falls Noir: A Noir mystery story idk about what tho, mostly for fun

Chapter 5: Film Festival: Everyone teams up to make short films for a film festival

Chapter 6: Normal Kideon: Gideon (now reformed) asks the MK's help in teaching him how to not be a fucking little meglomaniac

Chapter 7: Techromancy: Something featuring Ford and Fiddleford and Peridot idk what

Chapter 8: Speed Demon: Zoom makes her triumphant return

Chapter 9: Twenty Zodiac Tales (temp): Very short stories featuring all the zodiac characters

Chapter 10: A Wheel in the Woods: The gang fucking discovers that goddamn triangle's statue and they're all fuckin scared

Chapter 10: Trust No One: Idk Bill gets freed somehow but he's not as powerful as he used to be

Arc 2: That Will Be All

Chapter 11: Fusion Foretold: This one was gonna be fun! So a group of magical creatures, pixies I think, saw Stonipbel fighting during Weirdmageddon the previous summer and believe them to be a prophecised hero, without knowing they're just four kids in a tall trenchcoat. Hijinks ensue

Chapter 12: Back Into the Bunker: Return to the bunker, this time with Ford and Fiddleford, basically a flashback on how Rose and the Gems helped them build it

Chapter 13: Summer Snowfall: Fuckin snows in Gravity Falls, its basically just swinter iidk winter hijinks

Chapter 14: Monster Shack: Return of the Monster Falls designs idk how I just wanted to see them again, would have probs featured Monster Stevonnie, Maven, and Stepper bc im obsessed

Chapter 15: Revenge Tour: Stan and Amethyst up to illegal hijinks again, this time roping Wendy and mabel Lapis in?

Chapter 16: A Shoulder to Cry On: Steven/Pacifica fusion, Connie and Dipper are jealous little shits

Chapter 17: A Pines Bros Mystery: Flashback chapter adapting the chapter of the same name from Lost Legends focusing on the young Stan Twins

Chapter 18: Steven's Dream: Same as the show, the gang goes to fucking Korea I guess (said gang including all four of the Pines)

Chapter 19: Adventures in Light Distortion: More or less the same as canon

Chapter 20: Gem Heist: Hinjinks in the zoo, the zoomans also think stan and ford are hot along with greg imo deadass they're right

Chapter 20: That Will Be All: same as canon this time featuring Stonemason foreshadowing

Arc 3: Wanted

Chapter 21: The New Crystal Gems (temp): would have had a name change, same as the ep but featuring Pacifica, Wendy, Soos, and Fiddleford filling in for the Pines, hijinks ensue

Chapter 22: Room for Ruby: Fuckin little shit comes to earth, only Stan and Lapis are able to tell she's sus as fuck

Chapter 23: Tie the Knot: I think this was when Soos and Melody were gonna get married???? Yeah UF2 was gonna have 2 weddings lol

Chapter 24: Alternate Ending: Same as the ep, Steven imagining what it would be like if he did have a sister bc he's a lil jealous of Dipper and Mabel's dynamic

Chapter 25: Alone in the Woods: Something Dipper and Lapis related??? idk

Chapter 26: Doug Out: Same as the show more or less, Aquamarine and Topaz fuckiin around

Chapter 27: Brotherly Shove: Stan and Ford focused, probs would have resulted in them both getting captured by Aqua and Topz

Chapter 28: Are You My Dad: Same as the show, more GF characters captured alongside the SU characters

Chapter 29: I Am My Mom: Same as canon, but with Dipper and Mabel getting taken to Homeworld with Steven and Lars, would have also included Stuck Together

Chapter 30: The Trial: Same as canon, more implications of Rose being a Shady Bitch who worked with Bill in the past; ends with Dipper pulling a self sacrifice essentially so Steven and Mabel can escape, thus officially kickstarting the Stonemason arc

Chapter 30: Wanted: Mabel and Steven desperately trying to find a way to save Dipper, Lars fucking dies, Maven maybe shows up? The kiddos go home and break the bad news that they're now one short oop

Arc 4: Stonemason Unmasked

Chapter 31: Within Without: Aftermath of the Wanted arc, Pines family is a fucking mess, not even knowing if Dipper is still fucking alive; Steven is a guilt ridden disaster

Chapter 32: Gemcation: The gems take everyone on a trip to try and both cool down and strategize; Stan and Ford get into a fight bc they're stressed, everything is bad

Chapter 33: Kevin Party: More or less same but Kevin wants Stevonnie, Maven, and Stepper at his party (lol kinda impossible for that last one atm imo); Mabel runs into Gabe Bensen at the party and tells him to fuck off, feeling guilt once again for the events of Sock Opera especially now that Dipper is gone

Chapter 34: Shipping and Handling: I think this was gonna focus on Pacifica's feelings about Dipper being missing? Was probs gonna be sad as fuck tbh this entire arc was

Chapter 35: Lars of the Stars: Same but with Mabel trying to convince Lars and the Off Colors to take them back to Homeworld so they can look for Dipper; they don't get far before Emerald attacks tho

Chapter 36: Jungle Moon: Same as before but this time it has a subplot with Mabel being lost on her own on the Jungle Moon, and her first encounter with Stonemason (she doesn't realize who he is yet)

Chapter 36: Sweater Sewing: Gang is back on earth, more focused on Mabel's huge well of emotions about missing Dipper, writing him letters so she can fill him in on everything once they find him/her doubting if they will

Chapter 37: Mindless Education: All our remaining MK have Angst for days and fusion aint gonna help them work through it this time, basically, the MK aren't complete with Dipper ahahah

Chapter 38: The Assassin: Stonemason officially arrives in Gravity Falls and fights the Gems (they still dont know who he is yet)

Chapter 39: The Mask: Second encounter with Stonemason, ends with the dramatic face reveal ahahaha

Chapter 40: Stonemason Unmasked (p1 and p2): deadass just retelling how Dipper wound up as Stonemason in full, introduces Amber and shows how he lost his arm, was conditioned/brainwashed, etc. Was gonna be told as a series of vingette scenes

Arc 5: Break the Chain

Chapter 41: Show Yourself: Reactions to Stonemason's real identity, failed attempts from the Pines and the Gems to basically break Dipper out of the brainwashing I guess

Chapter 42: Deep Cut: Outright fucking war between the Stans and the Gems basically with the Stans blaming the Gems for what's happened to Dipper and Steven and Mabel trying their best to get them to reconcile and work together

Chapter 42: Lullaby: Probs Stonemason focused, showing that Dipper is still in there and is trying to break free but cant bc of YD's conditioning

Chapter 43: Puppet Strings: Bill fuckin returns after like 40 chapters, absolutely taking advantage of this fucked up situation to try and broker a deal with Steven. it doesn't work. Yet

Chapter 44: Crash and Burn: Stonemason attacks Gravity Falls directly, without the mask which will have huge repercussions later

Chapter 45: Forever Together: Maven focused; they go off on their own to try and track down Stonemason, probably having an emotional breakdown or two along the way

Chapter 46: Don't Let Go: Possibly Lapis focused??? How the whole Stonemason thing is impacting her (not well)

Chapter 47: Burnout: Everyone fucking just hits rock bottom unsure of what the fuck to do

Chapter 48: A Final Farewell: Essentially that oneshot I wrote that one time, Amber sending the Gems and Pines a message from Dipper that encourages them to keep going

Chapter 49: Hide and Seek: The gang finally captures Stonemason and restrains him but they have no fucking idea how to help him

Chapter 50: Find the Key: Potentially calls back to both Dreamscaperers and RMD, with Steven and Mabel going inside Stonemason's mind to save Dipper

Chapter 50: Break the Chain: They fight Stonemason in there, break Dipper free, and he's back yay! but he's a lil fucked up actually lol

Arc 6: Rise and Fall and Rise Again

Chapter 51: Yes, My Diamond: Aftermath of Dipper struggling to fully break out of the conditioning ahaha angst city babyes

Chapter 52: The Golden Rule: I have no fucking clue something Stonemason related I guess, maybe the reveal that he's still runnin around inside of Dipper's mind and isnt actually gone like everyone thinks he is

Chapter 53: Blackout: Also don't know about this one, I guess its like emotional reconcilation from other characters?

Chapter 54: Your Mother and Mine: Finally getting back to SU eps, learning about how Rose started the war

Chapter 55: Pool Hopping: Garnet has even more angst bc boy howdy she did not see any of this Stonemason shit happening and she is hella guilty about it but at least she adopts a cat imo

Chapter 56: Raising the Barn: Lapis wants to leave now that Dipper is back, Dipper begs her to take him with her so YD won't find him and control him again; she says she's going to but doesn't imo fuckin ruins her relationship with her son nice going idiot

Chapter 57: Legend of the Dragowl: Dipper sad about his mom leaving, basically finds a cool dragon/owl hybrid in the woods and its basically HTTYD from there as that becomes his pet (names her Luna, she's cool)

Chapter 58: Save the Light: Adaptation of the SU game, Hessonite (who was involved in the Stonemason process) comes to earth and wooo boy everyone wants to beat her shit in

Chapter 59: Knock, Knock: Something something Bill I think? I have no fucking idea

Chapter 60: Rise and Fall: Imma level with yall i Have no fucking idea what this arc ender was gonna be; probs more Dipper angst? That sounds about right.

Chapter 60: And Rise Again: ^^^ Ditto

Arc 7: Dimensional Duel

Chapter 61: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back: Stepper, my sweet fusion son, returns after being away for so long as Steven tries helping Dipper recover emotionally but oh boy it doesnt work

Chapter 62: Alone Forever: Something else having to do with Stepper, idk what

Chapter 63: Rifts and Memories: More Stepper bc we can never get enough, probs plenty of RMD callbacks

Chapter 64: Open the Door: Ok yeah this one was def Bill making his full comeback, possibly using Steven as a pawn

Chapter 65: Twinning: This was an AU chapter but I honestly couldnt fucking tell you which one imo

Chapter 66: The Home in Homeworld: This was supposed to be the Crystal Falls AU chapter but then I swapped it over to UF itself and then also never wrote it so this is just redundant

Chapter 67: Mother Knows Best: Water Mom AU! Makes Dipper feel even worse about his Lapis being a fucking negligent runaway!

Chapter 68: The New Mystery Kids: Time travel into the MK2 future, old MK meets new MK its very cute and wholesome

Chapter 69: The One Who Watches: Axolotl introduction, idk what else besides that

Chapter 70: Portholes: AUs collide, basically a bunch of various AU characters from all the AUs we've seen fuckin Interacting

Chapter 70: Dimensional Duel: More of that ^^^ But there's fighting involved??? They all beat the shit out of Bill???

Arc 8: Change Your Mind

Chapter 71: Can't Go Back: They find Lapis on the moon, her and Dipper fight bc what else are they gonna do; Lapis still doesn't go home oop deadbeat mom over here

Chapter 72: A Single Pale Rose: Pink Diamond reveal and also the reveal of the deal Rose made with Bill during the war for her Gem

Chapter 73: Now We're Only Falling Apart: Reactions to the reveal; basically the same as canon as we learn more about Pink becoming Rose

Chapter 74: Reconnect the Chain: Stonemason (who's still in Dipper's head) and Dipper decide to reconcile their differences bc they're mad as fuck that they went through all this bullshit for nothing and decide they're gonna allign to a mutal goal: shatter all the remaining diamonds (except steven for obvious reasons)

Chapter 75: The Question: Rupphire engagement, cutie pies

Chapter 76: Made of Honor: Bismuth angst, fully bringing her back into the CGs (remember she gets unbubbled during Weirdmageddon but she keeps her distance from the CGs out of shame)

Chapter 77: Reunited: Rupphire wedding; Blue and Yellow come to Earth, big fuckin battle and they discover who Steven is

Chapter 78: Legs from Here to Homeworld: Shit awkward as fuck bc the Pines wanna fucking mutally murder Yellow for obvious reasons lol otherwise same as canon

Chapter 78: Familiar: Steven angst with a side of Dipper and Stonemason angst ahaha

Chapter 79: Together Alone: Stonipbel at the party, cute until it isn't; fucking blaze through Escapsim bc that episode sucks

Chapter 80: Battle of Heart and Mind: Dipper/Stonemason try and spectacularly fail to shatter Yellow, the others find out about his plans and are mix of semi supportive (the rest of his family) and not supportive at all (Steven bc he wants to heal the corrupted gems and that cant happen without Yellow) (so basically we get a fight between Dipper and Steven hahaha oh no where have we seen that before)

Chapter 80: Change Your Mind: Confrontation against White, even more dramatic than the actual episode if you can believe it

Arc 9: Ursa Major

Chapter 81: Back Then: Basically adjustment to the post CYM status quo, corrupted Gems are being healed and the MK all finally feel somewhat emotionally OK but there's still an arc left of this shit sooo

Chapter 82: Meet the Pines: Pines parents arrive in Gravity Falls for a surprise visit and are shocked to see what utter hell their kids have gone through; they ultimately decide to let them stay though when they realize just how happy their kids are here despite everything

Chapter 83: The Call: Bill fuckin around one more time, plotting to fuckin just destroy everything out of sheer rage alone; something something Axolotl

Chapter 84: The Unknown: I dont fucking know msot of my plans for UF2's final arc are very hazy

Chapter 85: Without Within: Dipper trying to find a way to make Stonemason his own person bc they've become friends?

Chapter 86: Glow Gem: Something to do with Steven idk what though

Chapter 87: Encore: I dont fucking know

Chapter 88: Sixty Degrees Come in Threes: Was gonna be Bill's backstory until Book of Bill came along and made me look stupid

Chapter 89: The Axolotl's Chosen: So in the Adventures in the Multiverse chapters of UF, the oracle tells Ford that the Axolotl has a "chosen one" that'll take Bill out once and for all and impliies it to be him but it aint lol its Dipper bc this kid hasnt been through enough already fuck

Chapter 90: Ursa Minor: Something something remnant trauma Dipper has not just from the Stonemason thing but shit Bill did to him like RMD and Sock Opera but still deciding to fucking end that motherfucker anyway

Chapter 90: Ursa Major: MK vs. Bill you know how it goes

Chapter 90: Polaris: That stupid motherfucking triangle finally dies for good

Epilogue 1: Mystery and Magic: Cool down from the climax, lots of cute interactions and character moments

Epilogue 2: Of Pines and Gems: Peaceful final resolution, conclusions, foreshadowing to the Movie probs with a scene hinting at Spinel idk

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Solace (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall part 12 of the series “Growing Strong”. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE . ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of previous death of characters, and near tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: Following the tragic fire at Harrenhal, you retreated back to the safety of Highgarden, where you, Harwin, and your family have lived for the past several years. But there are loyalties owed to those outside the walls of your family’s ancestral home, and a letter from an old friend coaxes you all to rejoin the wider realm once more.

A/N: *me, looking at pictures and GIFS for Highgarden inspo for this part*: “I want to go to there”

Welcome to time line of episode 8, everyone. I don’t plan on mentioning this super specifically in the story or anything, but I am tweaking the kids’ ages a bit from the books (and show(?) honestly, the show is harder to track this) before the actual start of the Dance. I pictured Jacaerys/Derrik as being around 16-17 years old, and Lucerys/Selwin around 14-15 years old by this point.

Thank you the support🖤 I hope you enjoy this longer chapter that contains what I would argue a lot of fluffy moments. Hopefully this can start make up for the week break and the angsty chapter that was the last one.🥲 I’m also going to be posting a family tree shortly, which will hopefully clear up any confusion about all these whacky relations.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!🖤

To Lady Y/N Tyrell of Highgarden,

My dearest friend, I hope you have been well since you last wrote. I sense a change in the seasons is upon us once more, and I urge you and the rest of your family to take good care of your health. I fear the accrual of more reasons to dread this time of year… As you know, it is nearing the anniversary of the passing of two individuals who were close to my heart.

My Good Sister, Lady Laena Velaryon, is still sorely missed by all who knew her. Although, I must admit that I am most fortunate to see her vibrant spirit live on in her daughters, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena, whom I have come to view as my own.

And then there is my late Lord Husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon. For all our differences, he was still my husband, and the man whose name my eldest sons bear. He had a good heart, and, at the end of it all, we had a true understanding of one another. I cared for him deeply, and I find myself still mourning the loss of him to this day.

With the memories of their passing beginning to occupy my mind once more, I am constantly reminded of the loss that you and your own Lord Husband endured around this same time of the year. As always, I continue to extend my sympathies to you and your family at this time.

Lord Lyonel Strong was a good man, and perhaps an even better Hand to our King. I am certain my father still feels his absence at Court, despite the speed at which his Lady Wife, Her Grace the Queen, filled the vacant position on the small council.

In remembering each and every one of these losses, I am also reminded of just how long it has been since I have had the pleasure of sharing your company. Make no mistake, writing letters by raven has proven more favorable than years of silence, I assure you. But, and perhaps selfishly so, I often find myself recalling the light that you and your family’s presence provided to me and my own.

I am no stranger to dark times, and I fear neither the old or new gods are yet through with me. If I am presented with an opportunity for happiness, I will happily jump at the chance to secure it. Vipers will be vipers, and whether the words they speak are true or not, they will always speak them through forked tongues. The years have made me far less agreeable to bend to their will.

It has been too long, my friend. I would like to invite you, Lord Harwin, and your children to come visit in Dragonstone. Prince Daemon and I would be happy to host your family for as long as you desire. Our boys are almost men now, but I think they would all greatly benefit from rekindling the friendship from their youth. One day, you and I will be gone from this world, and they will rule in our stead. If the gods are kind, that will be many years from now… But, as a cost of my position, I am aware that I have gained many enemies. I shall be more at ease when the Stranger comes to claim me if I know our sons will never find anything less than faithful allies in one another.

I eagerly await your response, and hope to see you soon.

 Sincerely,

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen

There were few places in the entire world that were able to bring you more comfort than the familiar gardens of your home.

As alluded to by the name, Highgarden boasted many. Different areas of the expansive grounds housed different types of plants, each needing various degrees of care that only the most dedicated and well compensated gardeners held the entire knowledge of. The magnificent castle that was your ancestral home had been built in the center of them all.

The roses live among roses.

When an immediate member of the ruling family passed, it was tradition for a plant or flower that they favored, or which otherwise symbolized them, to be planted in their memory. Your mother, the only daughter of the Lord Meadows of Grassfield Keep, had a particular fondness for daisies. When she passed, your father planted many of those flowers across the gardens, and all by his own two hands. In turn, your father had long since decided that, in true Tyrell fashion, a new golden rose bush should be planted after his passing. You and Derron had seen to it that his wish was carried out. However, gods bless him, Derron had not lived long enough to convey to you what he wished to be planted after his own passing, so you had to make that decision on your own.

Derron’s passing marked a significant change for House Tyrell, and had changed the outcome of your own life forever. After some consideration, you opted with something a bit more imposing than daisies or roses to honor his memory: a birch tree.

The lure of the birch tree was that it was constantly changing in appearance with the seasons. You loved watching the visual transformations every few months. The gardeners had complimented your choice, noting that the birch tree was believed to symbolize new beginnings and growth. It had been fitting. Perfect, even. It grew at a decent rate as well- after approaching nearly two decades after Derron’s passing, the tree absolutely towered above you, and had come a long way from the tiny sapling you had once planted.

Derron’s tree was planted among others in a certain section of the gardens you had always tended to favor. The shade provided by it and surrounding trees was a welcome escape from the warm sun, particularly in the summer months. And, as the location was tucked away from the main garden path, it also allowed you ample privacy. You loved your home and those who resided within it with all of your heart, but you also had come to appreciate whatever small moments of peace that you were able to find for yourself. Doing so did wonders to clear your mind.

And it was clarity that you desired above all else at that moment as you idly ran your thumb across the letter that you’d received. Correspondence from Princess Rhaenyra was not an uncommon occurrence by any means; you wrote to another frequently. But the contents of this particular letter, which had been delivered by raven that same morning, had your mind bogged down with many thoughts.

There was excitement at the prospect of reuniting with your old friend after so many years. There was elation at the thought of the joy it would bring to your sons to see the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys once again. But there was also concern… Worry about the potential threats to the solace you and Harwin had worked so painstakingly hard to craft for your family in Highgarden following the horrific tragedy that was the fire at Harrenhal.

You sighed tiredly, and leaned your head against the back of the tree.

…

The sound light giggles drifting over from the main garden path yanked you from your contemplation. But you recognized the sound immediately, and happily welcomed the interruption.

You rose to your feet, pocketed the parchment into your skirts, and made your way out into the open with a noticeable spring in your step.

Standing on the main cobblestone path was a young girl, still a tiny bit of a thing, clutching the hand of her nanny. When she saw you, her comfortingly familiar eyes lit up, and she reached out her small hands in your direction.

“Mama!”

“Mother,” Nanny Bryna corrected her, though you could tell she restrained herself from using the full extent of her sternness.

You beamed, and swiftly pulled your daughter up into your arms. The young girl threw her own arms around your neck in a near vice-like grip as she settled in your hold, but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Forgive me, My Lady,” Bryna apologized sincerely. “We did not mean to interrupt you. Lady Luciya was a bit finicky this morning, and I thought a small walk through the gardens might soothe her.”

You looked to Luciya expectantly, awaiting her response to her nanny’s words. The girl was young, with only her third name day occurring in a few months time. But despite her youth, Luciya was already as quick as a whip, and you had no doubt she knew exactly what it was that Bryna was referring to.

However, all your daughter could give you was an entirely pitiful look.

… As if such a sweet face could possibly be “finicky”.

You laughed at Lucyia’s front of innocence briefly, before turning your attention back to her nanny. “There is nothing to forgive, Bryna. I will take her for now.”

Bryna nodded, before giving you a small curtsy.

As her nanny walked away, you turned your attention to your daughter once more, and lightly tapped her on the nose with a single finger. “Now, Sweetling, what is all this business about you being unpleasant this morning?”

Luciya gave you a sheepish smile, before turning and hiding her face in your hair.

With Harwin’s curls, your eyes, and a combination of the pair of your remaining facial features, Luciya was the perfect balance of you and your husband. She reminded you each so very much of the mothers that you and Harwin had both lost at a young age. Luciya was small, but lively. She was quick to learn, just like Derrik had been; Bryna had already begun to work with her on reading and writing. And her sweetness rivaled Selwin’s at that age; though she was not immune to foul moods, her disposition was almost always more pleasant than not.

Luciya had been… unexpected, in a sense. After all, more than a decade after Selwin’s first name day had passed by the time she was born. But she had been no less welcomed for it. It was immediately clear that the young girl was the perfect final addition to your small family. Luciya had stolen the hearts of everyone she met, yours and Harwin’s included chief among them. Even your eldest children were taken with her; Derrik enjoyed reading to her whenever his studies and training allowed it, and Selwin had been taking her on short horseback rides around the castle grounds before she was even able to walk.

You ran a light hand over her curls absentmindedly for a moment, when all of the sudden, a brilliant idea struck you. You leaned in close, and gave her a conspiring smile. “Shall we see what your father and brothers are up to?”

Luciya withdrew her face from your hair, and with a bright smile of her own, nodded enthusiastically.

Given the hour, and the fact that it was such fair weather, there was only one place Harwin and your sons were likely to be. The clanging of clashing steel confirmed your suspicions the closer you drew to the training yard.

The yard was filled with various men, almost all donned in training armor or yielding blunted weapons of some sort. A large portion of them were gathered in the middle, watching with intrigue as two individuals who you couldn’t see just yet sparred with one another.

Much closer to you and Luciya, you spotted Derrik.

If Derrik looked like Harwin as a boy, it was even more apparent now that he was a young man. His curls had become less wild with age, but they were still present. He was broad shouldered, and though he was still young, you knew he could make a formidable opponent, if he ever needed to be. He was well trained with a sword, as Harwin and Highgarden’s master at arms had seen to that. When Derrik was not training with weaponry, Derrik and his tutors had exercised his mind with just as much fervor. He studied a great many subjects- history, philosophy, languages- and he enjoyed them all.

In another life, perhaps Derrik might have sought to become a maester. In your opinion, he had demonstrated the patience, wit, and motivation that would suggest success in such an endeavor. His grandsire, Lord Lyonel, had once chosen that path. As Harwin once told you, your Good Father had managed to forge six links on his chain before the death of his older brother forced him to abandon the pursuit for the sake of the Strong family. Similarly, as Derrik stood to inherit a great holding of his own one day, that fate of a maester was not his to claim.

Derrik was perfectly well rounded, as a wise young lord ought to be, and, though he was occasionally stubborn, he was wise beyond his years. You and Harwin couldn’t have been any prouder of him.

Your eldest son was tight lipped as he nocked an arrow and pulled back the string of a bow. Ser Corbus Crane, Highgarden’s master at arms, watched him diligently.

The arrow soared through the air and struck the target…. But a fair way down from the center. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle the arrow had managed to strike the target at all.

With Harwin and Ser Corbus’ oversight, Derrik had become a decent swordsman for his age. But as of late, Derrik had developed a more serious interest in cultivating skill with a bow as well. This pleased you; not only had you been taught to shoot from a young age, but your father and brother had been as well. Seeing your eldest son take an interest in upholding the Tyrell family tradition gave you joy.

“Straighten your bow arm,” you instructed him, giving Derrik a small start as he had yet to realize your presence. “And hold firm. You are losing some of the tension halfway through your draw.”

“I advised him of the same, My Lady,” Ser Corbus chimed in.

You gave the man an apologetic look.

Derrik gave you an understanding nod. With a small sigh, he nocked a second arrow and drew back the string. This time, he adhered to the advice of both you and his tutor.

The arrow struck the target just shy of the center. Luciya clapped enthusiastically, causing her older brother to shoot her a grin.

“Perhaps you should listen to the advice of Ser Corbus more often,” you suggested purposefully to Derrik, though you were unable to completely conceal the pleased smile on your lips.

Derrik bowed his head in mild embarrassment. “Yes, Mother. My apologies, Ser Corbus.”

“There is nothing to forgive, My Lord. But, My Lady- I think the young lord could benefit from some additional motivation,” Ser Corbus proposed, looking at you knowingly. “Mayhaps you join us sometime, My Lady? Shooting round for round with Lord Derrik here may do wonders to encourage the lad to sharpen his aim.”

Embarrassment fled Derrik’s face, and instead, he looked downright amused at the proposal. In truth, the idea appealed to you as well.

“I suppose I can spare some time in the name of improving my son’s learning, though it may be a few days before I am able to accommodate that request,” you agreed heartily. You glanced about the training yard, before turning to Derrik and inquiring, “Where are your father and brother?”

“Yield! I yield!”

Your attention was drawn back to the middle of the training yard as the exasperated exclamation rang out. The men who had gathered there muttered amongst themselves, while several others clapped at the display. Eventually, they dispersed one by one, revealing none other than Harwin and Selwin as those who had been sparring in the middle of them all.

Selwin was on his knees, his training sword having been knocked aside. Harwin tossed down his own blunted sword to the dirt before extending his youngest son a helping hand.

Once Selwin was on his feet, Harwin patted him on the back reassuringly. “You held your own for longer than I thought you would, lad.”

Selwin allowed a small smile to slip at his father’s praise, though he looked a bit hesitant to immediately accept it. “Truly?”

Selwin looked every bit like the men of House Tyrell, save Harwin’s hazel eyes. He was tall, just as tall as Derrik actually, and lithe. Despite lacking the same broadness as his father and older brother, Selwin was still dangerous with a sword in his own right, and even at his young age. He had never come to share the same love of learning as Derrik, not by any means. That was a bit unfortunate… You and Harwin would have loved for your son to squire with another lord or knight of high regard, but as Selwin was to inherit either Harrenhal or Highgarden one day, such a luxury could not be afforded. Thankfully, Selwin was understanding of this, and he had continued with his lessons dutifully, despite his lack of enthusiasm for them. However, true light only ever seemed to shine in Selwin’s eyes when training in the yard, riding throughout the grounds on horseback, or exploring along the riverbanks of the Mander.

Selwin was charming too, at festivals and parties alike. He could make conversation just as easily with those many years his senior as he could with the youngest of children. His sweetness from his childhood had carried over to his teenage years, something you were grateful for, and he seldom had an unkind word to offer to or about anyone… unless someone ignited that infamous temper he had inherited from Harwin, that was. 

Though he still got along with his older brother, Selwin was not very much like Derrik at all. But you and Harwin were still just as proud of him too.

“Now, Dearest, is it wise to ‘rough up’ our youngest son in such a manner?” you called over to them teasingly.

At the sound of your voice, both Harwin and Selwin looked over as you approached them. The pure love and warmth in Harwin’s eyes as they fell on you never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even after all these years.

“I am afraid you are mistaken, My Love,” Harwin disclaimed politely, taking a step towards you to meet you half-way. “It was our son who was giving me the go of it… for a little while there, at least.”

You pursed your lips and fought off the urge to continue the playful bickering. Upon seeing her father, Luciya reached out to Harwin with grabbing hands. He smiled and immediately lifted her from your arms. You let him do so willingly.

“Selwin, we should be on our way soon,” Derrik called over from across the yard as he handed his bow over to Ser Corbus. “Maester Thomos will be cross with us if we are late for our accounting lessons again.”

“Now, we wouldn’t want that,” you commented, looking back at Selwin.

Your youngest son looked about as excited at the idea of an hour of accounting lessons as you would have expected him to be. However, you all knew that if Selwin was to be a lord with a keep of his own one day, an understanding of finances could only be beneficial.

You tilted your head along encouragingly to him. “Go on, now.”

Selwin still looked less than thrilled, but with a nod to you and Harwin, set out across the courtyard to join his elder brother. You watched the pair of them meet up and head out of the training yard altogether before you finally turned back to Harwin.

“Now, Sweet Girl,” Harwin said, readjusting his hold on Luciya and lifting her so that their matching eyes were level. “Not that I am upset by it, but what might you and your mother be doing out here?”

“As I believe Bryna put it, our daughter was acting ‘finicky’ this morning,” you relayed, taking a step closer to them. You ran a light hand over Luciya’s back soothingly.

Harwin frowned at you, feigning shock. He demanded, “Who? This Sweet Girl?”

Luciya smiled at him; the sight was a perfect mirror of Harwin’s own.

Harwin declared firmly, “Another mistake must have been made, Lady Wife. For it could not have been this little lass.” While Luciya was mesmerized by her father’s animated speech, she had failed to notice his spare hand mischievously reaching up. She was sent into a brief fit of giggles as Harwin’s fingers danced across her ribs. “Our daughter is not even capable of being anything less than content, I can assure you.”

You hummed in slight protest, but played along anyway. “But of course not, my Lord Husband. Our daughter is perfectly well behaved, always.”

“Good,” Harwin huffed half-seriously, dropping his hand and allowing Luciya a moment to catch her breath. Then, he placed a quick kiss on her cheek, earning yet another giggle from her. “I am glad we are of the same mind on this matter, My Lady.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly.

Harwin made a show of surveying the training yard, before looking back at your daughter. “Now that your brothers are gone,” he began, speaking so softly that only you and Luciya were likely to hear him, “Shall we venture down to the kitchens? I heard they brought in several baskets of fresh fireplums this morning…”

Luciya’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her favorite sweet.

“Harwin!” you scolded him half-heartedly. “‘Tis not yet midday. That would hardly be appropriate.”

“Fireplums?” Lucyia echoed, glancing between you and Harwin with a questioning look and a small, but undeniable, pout forming on her lips.

“It would be a shame to break her heart, My Love,” Harwin acknowledged pointedly, giving you a similar pouting look. You wanted to curse; your husband knew exactly what he was doing.

You tried to hold steadfast, you really did, but between the pleading look from your daughter and Harwin, the battle was a lost cause. Sighing defeatedly, you agreed, “Let us go find some fireplums, Sweetling.”

Luciya clapped gleefully. Smirking victoriously, Harwin put his free hand on the small of your back to guide you as the three of you left the training yard in search of a tasty late morning snack.

After a particularly tasty and fulfilling dinner, the soft crackling of the fire was nearly enough to lull Harwin to sleep.

Still, he trudged on.

As Harwin sat at his designated desk in your joint study, his hands began to ache with each letter penned upon the parchment before him, and his fingers began to tremble on the quill in his grip from sheer fatigue. Seeking a quick distraction, his eyes rose and flitted across the room, over towards the fireplace.

It took you and Harwin a significant amount of time to be comfortable with the ideas of open fires following the fire at Harrenhal years ago. Even now, neither you nor Harwin were comfortable with fires being fueled or stroked any further than what was necessary to keep the flames alive. But the season was beginning to change once more; the pleasant heat of the day had begun to give way to the chilly air at night, which left neither of you with much of a choice in the matter.

Fire was a necessary evil, Harwin thought to himself bitterly.

The firefly pin still rested on the upper left corner of his desk, where it had sat for the last several years.

You had presented it to him the morning after the fire at Harrenhal. A suspicious man, who had been apprehended sometime in the night, and dead by his own hand come the morning, had had it pinned to his cloak. You had sworn to the gods that the firefly pin looked familiar, and Harwin was inclined to agree. He had seen something extremely similar to it as well… somewhere. Harwin knew that to be as true as he knew his own name. But, for the life of him, Harwin couldn’t place where he had seen it before.

It was extremely suspicious, and Harwin was left with more questions than answers.

How had the fire started? Was it truly an accident, or was there a darker reason behind it? There were only so many things one could attribute to being a part of some dreaded curse… But if the fire had been intentional, who would have had the motive to orchestrate such a terrible act?

Lord Lyonel was a man who did not have a single enemy, at least not any that Harwin knew of. His father was a good natured, if plainly honest, man. And while you and Harwin had inadvertently made yourselves targets within the Red Keep due to your relations with Princess Rhaenyra, Harwin doubted that the reach of the vipers within would be able extend to that of his home, Harrenhal. And he doubted even more the capability of a mother, though a Queen she may be, to knowingly conspire to murder your children.

For a time, the unwavering need Harwin felt to deliver justice on behalf of his father had all but consumed him. A man driven nearly mad, he ceaselessly sought explanation to questions that may never be answered, due to the sheer nature of the event. He had questioned countless people, and had probably dolled out a few too many undeserved threats.

His sisters were quick to dismiss the entire thing as an unfortunate, though coincidental tragedy. Even Larys, through the letters by raven, suggested it was an accident. With the various new construction projects, as well as the simple fact that Harrenhal had burned once before, he argued it was not too difficult to imagine that someone mishandling a torch, or some fallen spark from a bedroom flame, could have quickly set the tower ablaze.

Harwin had even asked your opinion on the matter. He could tell you had been reluctant to say anything that might encourage his incessant inquisition, but still, you conceded that, despite the many reasons one could argue the fire truly was an accident, you were more hesitant than his siblings to declare it as such.

It was only the love he bore for you and your sons that had pulled Harwin back from the brink of instability. And Harwin did not care to know the version of himself he’d been during the weeks following the passing of his father ever again.

Finally tearing his eyes away, Harwin looked over to the side of the room next, and immediately noticed that you too had taken a break from your own writing to stare into the flickering flames. As you sat at your own desk, which was positioned adjacent to his own, Harwin watched you contentedly, and he bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile.

You looked just as tired as he felt, but there was an overwhelming warmth that flooded his heart every time he laid eyes upon you, no matter what state you were in. The feeling had not given way to time, despite over fifteen years of marriage. Harwin hoped it never would.

But, as if you felt his eyes on you, you suddenly regained focus, and slowly swiveled your head to glance over at him. Unrelenting, Harwin offered you a small, coy smile. He was not embarrassed to have been caught staring at you, not at all. Why be embarrassed that he was married to the most gorgeous, intelligent, brave, and enchanting woman in the whole realm? Rather, Harwin couldn’t help but feel humbled, and, truthfully, a little bit satisfied with himself that you had attempted to steal a glance at him.

You returned his smile easily, the gesture looking completely love-stricken. Harwin did not know if it was even possible for the love you felt for him to run deeper than the love he felt for you, but he did not doubt your intentions, nor your willingness to try.

After a moment, your focus returned to your own letter that you were in the midst of writing.

Not a day went by that Harwin didn’t find himself thanking the gods for your shining presence in his life. As far as he was concerned, every moment spent with you was time well spent. However, quiet evenings like this had come to be some of Harwin’s favorite opportunities, and he looked forward to and relished every moment he could.

Thankfully, most evenings seemed to progress the same as of late. After dinner, it was typical that Derrik and Selwin would excuse themselves to partake in whatever hobbies pleased them before retiring for the evening, whilst Nanny Bryna would offer to put Luciya to bed. It created a perfect opportunity for the two of you to relax and unwind from the day together, and catch up on any correspondence or other business that needed tending to.

It was no secret, nor did Harwin try to disguise it as such, that hours of writing business correspondence, drafting agreements, and maintaining general communication with his steward in Harrenhal, Lord Dannis of House Chambers, was one of Harwin’s least favorite aspects about having inherited his family lordship. In fact, it was probably the second worst aspect about the whole inheritance, with the first having been the loss of his father.

Harwin supposed he could have let Lord Dannis carry out his duties for him... Dannis, the uncle of the current Lord of House Chambers, Everan, was experienced, and had served Lord Lyonel faithfully for many years. But Harwin could not bring himself to sully the memory of his father by letting the knowledge he had been able to impart on him before his ultimately passing go to waste. And, given that Harwin and your family had not had even a semi-permanent residence at Harrenhal since that dreadful fire, maintaining his lordship through communication with Lord Dannis was his only option. The memory of the fire was still so haunting for each of you… no one was likely to return to Harrenhal for some time yet.

…

All personal qualms about the tedious writing aside, Harwin would never vocalize discontent with spending your evenings in the shared study. You would have confined yourself to the room for several hours anyways, as was what you deemed necessary to keep up with your own family duties… But it was clear to each of you that the evenings were far more tolerable when you shared them with each other.

Harwin’s eyes continued to linger over you as a look of concentration crept over your face. The feather of the quill in your hand flickered with your sharp and precise movements. He felt his chest warm with pride. For someone who had not been raised to inherit Highgarden, or taught how to properly manage the responsibilities that came along with such a claim, you certainly did not show it. You had taken nearly every letter, audience, charitable work, and all other duties in stride. Harwin was almost, almost, envious of how natural it all came to you… But he always felt more pride than anything else.

… And, Harwin had to admit that seeing you, his beloved wife, hold such a commanding position of power was very entrancing.

Harwin was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of rustling fabric coming from the sofa on the other side of the room. His eyes followed his ears, and the smile on his face shifted from one of flirtatious amusement to one of great fondness.

Of course, there were some nights when you and Harwin were not truly alone in your study.

Luciya was snuggled into the plush cushions of the sofa quite happily, her curls splayed about the pillow beneath her head without care. As soft snores slipped from her mouth, it was evident that she was blissfully unaware of anything else going on in the room. As far as you and Harwin were concerned, you were content to keep it that way. The gods had gifted you both with Derrik and Selwin, who brought honor upon your houses in their own ways. But Harwin was inclined to believe that the pair of you had been truly blessed with the addition of your daughter.

Abrupt, though gentle, knocks sounded on the door.

You bid the individual on the other side to enter in a soft tone, so as to not disturb Luciya.

The door opened slowly, and in strolled Lord Elwood Meadows.

The brother of your late mother had served your father and brother dutifully as Steward of Highgarden. Whilst serving you, his performance had been no less exemplary. In fact, the more the Lord Elwood aged, the more dedicated he became to his duties as Steward. Lord Elwood was practically the Lord of House Meadows in name only; his eldest son, and your cousin, Lord Theo, had been ruling over the family seat of Grassfield Keep in his father’s absence for quite some time.

As Lord Elwood came to a stop, his attention naturally shot over towards the sofa first. He visibly fought the urge to smile upon the sight of his sleeping grand niece. Then, he looked between the pair of you with purpose. “It would seem as though Lady Luciya has exhausted herself for the day… Mayhaps it has something to do with the fireplums that have reportedly disappeared from the kitchens?”

You and Harwin gleaned at each other knowingly at your uncle’s suggestion. Amusement was written over both of your faces.

Then, Lord Elwood offered, “Shall I call for Bryna, My Lady?”

“Thank you, Uncle, but that will not be necessary,” you assured him, resting your quill in the nearby ink pot. “We are to retire soon.”

“Very well, My Lady… Well, my apologies for the lateness of the hour, but Maester Thomos informed me that two ravens have arrived since dinner. And, since you have yet to retire, I thought you might care to receive the messages.”

“You thought correctly, Uncle. Thank you for bringing them to us at once.”

Lord Elwood crossed the room and deposited the small scrolls in your hand. With one more charmed glance at Luciya, he nodded to the both of you staunchly and exited the study. The door shut softly behind him.

Harwin watched you with interest as you glanced at the seals of each of the scrolls in your hand. You rose from your seat and strolled over to him, handing him one of the scrolls wordlessly.

The seal on the scroll was one Harwin recognized well.

Malvales.

The sigil that Harwin’s brother, Larys, had taken for his own since having been appointed as Master of Whisperers was an easily identifiable one. Harwin broke the seal without a thought and opened the scroll, reading the words upon the parchment promptly.

As Harwin read line by line, you gently sat on his lap. Undeterred by your actions, Harwin’s focus continued to be on the letter in his hand, but his spare arm came up to wrap around your waist, steadying and holding you close. You made yourself comfortable, and then broke open the seal of the second letter to begin reading as well. For a few quiet moments, nothing but the crackling fire and the snores from Luciya could be heard in the room.

But then, you sighed.

Harwin had just finished reading. He looked up at you worriedly, noting the seal still clinging to the one edge of the parchment. It was another one that he also recognized well.

Grapes.

There were very few individuals who used that seal that would have written to you with kind intentions.

He inquired, “From the Arbor?... Is all well?”

You nodded in response to his query, though your eyes never drifted from the letter in your hand. “Yes, it is only from my aunt… She has written to inform me that her granddaughter, Celesse, is traveling to King’s Landing. It seems that she, along with her cousin, Joanna Lannister, are to be taken in by the royal household as ladies in waiting for Princess Helaena.”

Harwin watched you carefully for a moment, waiting to see if you would say anything further that would indicate your opinion of the news. When you said nothing, he noted offhandedly in a light tone, “Dangerous place, is it not? For two unescorted ladies to roam about, all while serving a princess of the realm?”

Harwin’s teasing to what was once your own circumstance did not go over your head, and you looked at him with mock offense. “It is truly a preposterous notion, isn’t it? Young ladies and a Princess, eating, singing, dancing, and otherwise passing the time until they catch the attention of a suitor? The horror.”

“There are some strange men among the Red Keep, My Lady.”

You hummed. “I’ve met a few of them… In fact, there was this one-” 

Harwin rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “Oh no-”

“I heard that he could pull a fully occupied carriage all by himself,” you recounted dramatically. “I also heard that he once single-handedly closed the courtyard doors of the Red Keep when the chains had broken-”

“Now those are truly ‘preposterous’ notions, My Love. Complete fabrications of-”

“And, do you know what they called him? This infamous man?”

Harwin pursed his lips. You merely smiled at him, clearly amused by your own theatrics.

“... Breakbones?”

“No,” You scoffed, and reached for him, lightly cupping the side of his face closest to you. Softly, you corrected, “They called him my husband.”

Harwin bit the inside of his cheek once more. Even as a young man, when pretty women of all sorts started to pay him mind, he had never, ever considered himself one who was capable of blushing. Or one to be unnerved by the presence and words of any woman.

But you were not just any woman. You held his heart, confidence, and happiness all in the palms of your hands.

You placed a brief, though undeniably sweet, kiss upon his lips. When you withdrew from him a few seconds later, Harwin immediately found himself wishing you had not.

“But do not fret, Dearest,” you assured him, swiftly returning to the original topic as you lowered your hand from his face. “If Lady Celesse is even half as conniving as her father, I am sure she will fare in the capital just fine.”

Your cousin, Garrett Redwyne, once a second son, was now Lord of the Arbor. A few years past, the Stranger visited your family again. In one swoop, fever had claimed your uncle by marriage, Lord Gilbar, and your other cousin, Jeran, Garrett’s older brother. Jeran, foolishly, had never married, nor sired any legitimate heirs of his own by the time of his death. Unfortunately, that meant that the family seat passed on to his younger brother.

Harwin knew that the turn of events did not sit right with you. And frankly, things did not sit well with him either. It did not seem fair for someone who had so cruelly tried to prey upon a young woman in grief and steal her family’s birthright to then be rewarded with a title and holding of his own. Like you, Garrett had not been born to inherit the family lordship… But the gods had deemed it so, just the same.

And yet… Harwin dared to venture that there was another matter about your cousin that upset you even more. Not even a year after your brother’s passing, Garrett had taken a woman to wife- one Cerelle Lannister. Harwin could tell from the short time you had spent with the young woman in King’s Landing, you had enjoyed her presence. At the time of Derron’s death, his betrothal to Lady Cerelle had been imminent.

Not only did Lord Garrett become Lord of the Arbor, but he had also wed the woman who, in another life, might have been your Good Sister.

“What does your brother say?” you asked him then, discarding your scroll upon his desk.

“The usual,” Harwin answered at once, happy to see you had opted not to dwell on the thought of your cousin. “He has inquired about the state of the family, and as to how the children are.”

“That is kind of him,” you acknowledged sincerely. “I would suggest you write back to him and extend an invitation for him to visit and see the children for himself… But I believe we both know what his response would be.”

A regretful declination.

Not but a week after the fire at Harrenhal, Larys had been appointed to King Viserys’ small council as Master of Whisperers. It was an honorable appointment, but the position occupied so much of Larys’ time that, while Harwin, you, your sons, Lilyan, Eyla, and their families gathered at Harrenhal to lay Lord Lyonel to rest, Larys had been bound to King’s Landing by his duties… At least, that was the reason he cited in a letter to Harwin. Harwin suspected Larys’ failure to attend might have also had something to do with his brother’s feelings about the passing of their father. Different sorts of people grieved in different ways, and Larys had always been a bit of an outlier. But Harwin loved his brother, and did not beseech him for his decision. Even if his absence was greatly felt at the funeral.

“My brother’s duties keep him confined to the Red Keep, My Love,” Harwin reminded you. His arm around your waist tightened, holding you closer to him. Harwin pressed a light, nearly teasing kiss on the back of your neck. He smirked to himself as you shook off a small shiver in response. “Just as our duties keep us bound to Highgarden.”

At this, you stiffened in Harwin’s hold. “That reminds me,” you began, rising from his lap, though not without Harwin making a half-hearted attempt to keep you restrained as you were. “There is something else I wished to speak with you about.”

At the seriousness of your tone, the playful smirk fell from Harwin’s lips. “What is it?”

You hesitated. “These were not the only ravens we received today… There was a third. I received the letter this morning.”

Harwin picked up on your hesitation immediately. He coaxed encouragingly, “Whatever the burden is, share it with me. Who sent it?”

You said nothing, and instead reached into the pocket of your skirt. The third scroll was withdrawn from the fabric with a natural flourish. Harwin took it from your extended hand curiously, and opened it at once.

As he began to read the letter- one that he quickly realized was from Princess Rhaenyra, no less- he glanced over at you out of the corner of his eyes on the occasion. As he devoured line by line, you began to pace nearby.

Once Harwin was done reading, he understood why you appeared so visibly nervous.

“Well?”

Harwin contemplated his next words with significant caution. “‘Tis an… interesting offer, I suppose. What do you make of it?”

“It would not be King’s Landing, but it would be close.”

Dragonstone was a lot closer to the capital than Highgarden was. Too close for Harwin’s liking. 

“We left King’s Landing for a reason, My Love,” he reminded you patiently. “The gossip, the rumors? Our- my- presence threatened Princess Rhaenyra’s credibility, and it put all of us in danger.”

“I recall all of that, as you know.”

You spoke the truth, Harwin had no doubt of that. But the thought of what might have happened to you, or your children, had your family stayed in the capital, still troubled him deeply. His father had alluded to you, Derrick, and Selwin being taken away by the headsman. Harwin would rather fall upon his own sword than risk that nightmare becoming a reality.

“I cannot put you, or the children, in danger,” Harwin told you firmly. “I would never dream of commanding you, or declaring what you may or may not do. But I must protest at the idea of endangering you all for the mere sake of a social visit.”

“I know, Dearest,” you promised, your tone lightening at the growing traces of distress you detected within his words. “I know you would not have us put ourselves in danger. And I would not have you put yourself in danger, either… Neither would Princess Rhaenyra.”

Harwin got the funny sense that you were not finished with your thoughts. “... But?”

“But,” you continued, confirming his suspicions, “if the Princess knows of the… delicacy, of our situation, it makes me question why she has extended the invitation at this particular time. After all, though we frequently exchanged letters, it has been years since we have all seen one another.”

None of you had seen the Princess, or her sons, since you fled King’s Landing prior to your return to Harrenhal. And Harwin had to admit, the timing of the invitation was a bit peculiar. Why now?

“I have my suspicions as to why Princess Rhaenyra decided that now is an appropriate time,” you confessed then. “I still have some connections to those who frequent the Red Keep. The rumors report that the King is weak, Harwin. Very weak. They say he could pass any day now… And I suspect Princess Rhaenyra has heard the same.”

…

Damn.

Harwin could think of many, many reasons as to why accepting Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation would not be wise. Reasons that he was certain you could easily deduce as well. However, he would have had to be cruel to outright reject the offer, when he knew that accepting it may mean bringing some comfort to an old friend. You still considered Princess Rhaenyra as your oldest and most trusted companion. Besides the fact that she was to be Queen one day, Harwin held her in very high regard as well, and was also fortunate enough to call her a friend. Gods, years ago, he had loved Princess Rhaenyra’s sons as though they were his own… And perhaps part of him still did.

Both you and Harwin had lost your own fathers, whom you loved greatly. How could Harwin make any serious arguments for declining Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation, when accepting it would allow the both of you to offer her comfort in this trying time?

…

But King Viserys, gods be good, was not gone from this world yet. And the Hightowers still had sizable control over the Red Keep and its inhabitants. The thought of being so near King’s Landing still made Harwin wary.

And the thought of leaving Highgarden at all made him greatly uneasy.

As if you could read Harwin’s rapidly racing thoughts, you ran a light hand through his curls. Despite his worry, Harwin leaned into the familiar and comforting touch.

“I understand your fears, Dearest,” you assured him softly, but sincerely. “And I share them as well. But we cannot stay here for the rest of our days. Highgarden may be a refuge, yes… But it was never meant to be a place of solitude. There is an entire realm outside of these walls, and many others whom we have loyalties to.”

Harwin, who had closed his eyes at your gentle ministrations, opened them once more. There was no need for him to verbally admit your assumption was correct. You had seen right through him, as you almost always did.

Since the fire at Harrenhal, the pair of you had created a peaceful life for yourselves in Highgarden. Within the castle walls, you, Harwin, Derrik, Selwin, and now Luciya, were safe. For years, it had seemed as though no evil could touch you here.

Highgarden was a solace.

… And while Harwin wanted so desperately to keep that solace, and protect you all, he was not a fool. He knew that such a blissful dream, no matter how wonderful it was, could not be sustained indefinitely. You were right- the two of you owed allegiance to others who did not reside in your ancestral home. Besides King Viserys, the most important of these allegiances was the one to Princess Rhaenyra.

Harwin sighed, and rose to his feet. He felt your eyes on him with every step as he walked across the room and over towards the sofa. When he reached it, he leaned down, gently took Luciya into his arms, and sat upon the cushions where she had been snoozing away a moment before. Not deterred in the slightest, Luciya continued to sleep while she subconsciously shifted around to make herself comfortable in her father’s arms.

You were quick to follow, and took a seat beside him. You tucked yourself into his side calmly. When you were settled, Harwin tilted his head to rest upon yours.

For a few moments, the two of you silently watched your daughter, with Luciya resting her head on Harwin’s one shoulder, and you resting your head on the other.

He remembered how scared he was when Luciya was born. With Derrik and Selwin, he’d been nervous with the idea of parenthood… But they were his sons. Harwin had been able to take some comfort in the knowledge that he could raise them with a similar loving upbringing that he had experienced as a child. Studying with maesters, training in the yard with the master at arms… He had an understanding of what Derrik and Selwin would face.

But a daughter? That was a completely different and uncharted territory. Harwin had sisters, and nieces now as well, but nothing compared to this. Harwin had not been prepared to have his heart shared by two women, but that is what had come to transpire. Thankfully, Luicya had been merciful to him in this regard- she had only ever asked for attention, and love. Things Harwin was more than willing to give her, and in plentiful amounts at that.

Harwin wanted to give your daughter the world.

… Which, in a queer way, may have meant that she ought to actually see some of it.

A hazy vision of Luciya on a sandy shore flashed across his mind. The sound of her laughter ringing out amongst the crowing of seagulls rang faintly in his ears.

Harwin pressed a kiss to the top of Luciya’s head. “... She will enjoy the sea, I think.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder slowly, and looked at him with wide and slightly watery eyes as you realized the deeper implication behind his simple words.

To Dragonstone.

After a swift kiss to Harwin’s cheek, you placed your hand on Luciya’s back, your fingers brushed against Harwin’s as you did so. “She will. And Derrik and Selwin will enjoy seeing the Princes again.”

“The Princes,” Harwin echoed blankly. “Gods, it has been so long… They must be nearly men by now.”

You smirked. “As are our sons, Harwin.”

Would Jacaerys and Lucerys even recall him? Harwin hoped so. Despite the passage of time, he still harbored a fondness for them. And he would have been lying if he denied worrying about them over the years. Despite his faults, losing Ser Laenor in such a tragic way, only to have the role of a father filled promptly- almost too promptly- by the likes of Prince Daemon Targaryen?

That would have been a rotten lot for anyone, let alone young boys whose fates were already precariously hanging on with little more than the unyielding love from their royal grandsire.

… But the more Harwin thought about that, the more quickly he was coming around to the idea of visiting Dragonstone. Having spent a decent amount of time in one another’s presence during their time serving the City Watch, Harwin had seen sides of the Rogue Prince he could only hope that the young Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys had not yet heard of. While Harwin may have had his own opinions about how he approached fatherhood, he would never deny that Ser Laenor Velaryon was an honorable man, even if it was in his own way. On the other hand, Harwin was not sure Prince Daemon even knew the meaning of the word.

The idea of the young Princes following after the likes of their now stepfather bothered Harwin. They were older now, and though not yet fully grown men, they were indisputably no longer children… But perhaps it was not so late that Harwin could offer himself as an alternative fatherly figure?

If the Princes even still wanted to view him as such, that was.

But, once again, you soothed his worries with your calming words.

“I am certain that the Princes will be pleased to see you too, Dearest.”

Luciya yawned in her sleep, breaking the tension of your conversation. A light laugh escaped both of you.

Then, Harwin reaffirmed, “If the Princess requests our family’s presence on Dragonstone, she shall have it.”

There was a strange feeling in the air… a sense that the lives of your family were about to change in a dramatic fashion.

If only the two of you had known then just how drastic the changes were going to be.

“I will write back to Princess Rhaenyra with our answer,” you informed Harwin. “But I daresay that can wait ‘til the morrow.”

Harwin rose to his feet, and you followed suit. However, he must not have done as well of a job concealing any lingering concern as he had hoped to. As he took a step towards the door to leave, you reached out, and placed a hand on his arm, halting him.

“Everything will be alright, Dearest.”

Harwin gave you a small smile, feeling peculiarly bittersweet. “I know, My Love. Highgarden has been a refuge… But I know I will find solace wherever I am, so long as I am with you.”

A/N: Poor, naive Harwin. Bless him.🖤 He just wants to see the good in his brother, y’all. I’m sure that definitely won’t come back to bite him in the future or anything-

Thank you for reading!🖤 Next part will probably be at least a 2 parter again, but it may even be a 3 parter, depending on how long it ends up being and what plot points I choose to include in it.

But before then, I’m going to try and see if I can put together a couple little headcanons/blurbs later this week, so if that’s something you’re interested in, keep an eye out for those😊 I definitely want to take a crack at more headcanons of Harwin with the kiddos, but also running the Reach and just general married life with Harwin, so we’ll see what happens.

[butterscotch987]

Through the Shadows of Shame: an AUP fanfic | Table of Contents (Masterlist)

Here's a TOC of my fic, because I realized it's probably going to have at least 50 chapters, at least that's what I've outlined so far.

Last update: November 6, 2024 (on AO3)

NOTE:

Not everything written is a summary to prevent spoilers as best as I can. I just put in things I find interesting about the chapter, even though they're not the main focus.

Subject to change.

PUBLISHED Chapters:

Chapter 1: Why I did this work -- my rationale on why I wanted to write it, and why I made the decisions I did.

Chapter 2: Flashback - meant to set some of the dynamic up.

Chapter 3: Library - here we really get to see their current dynamics.

Chapter 4: In His Element - Ludger gets the praise he deserves for teaching

Chapter 5: Braid - People simp for Ludger and his braid

Chapter 6: Bento - Ludger's students cook him a homemade meal. He thinks it's an assassination attempt.

Chapter 7: Doodles - Ludger being Ludger, not understanding his students' intentions as he rants.

Chapter 8: Scooped - Something bad happens to Erina's research. Ludger is there. Wholesome

Chapter 9: Sausage Octopi - Erina cooks for Ludger. Hilarity ensues.

Chapter 10: Fops - Faculty Meeting about an upcoming magic test. Ludger fights for commoner students.

Chapter 11: Library Shift - Ludger does double library shifts. He makes some students cry (in a good way)

Chapter 12: Cheeky - Erina is a pillow murderer. Ludger has fast reflexes. Erina accidentally talks about one of Ludger's secret identities. Sometimes having fast reflexes is bad for you.

Chapter 13: Consultation Hours: Aidan - Ludger gives relationship advice to Aidan. He has no idea what he’s doing. It works?

Chapter 14: Flashpoint part 1 - see definition of flashpoint ;)

Chapter 15: Flashpoint part 2 - some cool magic thing/magic lore happens

Chapter 16: Croquettes - semi-spicy(?); i got secondhand embarrassment when I wrote this chapter.

Chapter 17: Lavender and White Violet - this whole chapter was so chaotic. Just read it, no spoilers.

Chapter 18: Invisible - (secret) asks (secret) to have a blind date with (secret)

Chapter 19: Whiskey Business - UN Owen appears. Bellaluna making crazy drinks.

Chapter 20: Stay - Ludger doesn't usually get drunk but when he dpes he can keep you up all night long.

Chapter 21: Dragon - What better way to forget all the stupid shit you did while drunk by fighting a dragon?

Chapter 22-24: Okay (1-3); Healthy communication yay.

Chapter 25-27: Encrypta (1-3) - Ludger has a new assistant professor. Magic lore (non-canon) Chapter 28: Flora - Flora subplot has been Triggered (TM)

Chapter 29: Lap - Ludger has a genius idea on how to make Erina stop overworking.

Chapter 30: (School)work-life Balance - Ludger helps Sedina manage her schedule. Sedina asks how to make friends.

Chapter 31: Candidacy - A sort of retelling/adaptation of the canon mana output research arc starts here

Chapter 32: Try - Fluffy end

Chapter 33: Warm - Erina talks about Moriarty without knowing she's talking to Moriarty

Chapter 34: Ripe - Erina and Sedina *ahem* use creative problem solving to get more research participants

Chapter 35: Punishment - Repercussions, punishments, and... other stuff 🦯

Chapter 36: The Moon is Always Shining Somewhere - Ludger trains Erina and he passes out. Erina finds a certain pill bottle.

Chapter 37: The Goddess of the Moon

Chapter 38: White Peonies, White Lilies

Chapter 39: Spring in the Middle of Winter - Very important chapter

Chapter 40-42: Arcane Chamber (1-3)

Chapter 43: Carry

Chapter 44: A Garden Named Herzpfad (Heart Path)

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Endings, Beginnings

Chapter 17 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: brief, vague mentions of death

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: I know I said updates would be faster but I lied… I’m trying to get my shit together I promise also if the ending seems disjointed or unedited it’s because I wrote it tipsy 2 hours before this was posted

You can’t sleep. Despite how comfortable you are, despite the tiredness coursing through your bones, your mind can’t seem to slow down. It’s like if you happened to fall asleep, everything would just be a dream and you’d wake up at home and alone and overthinking every interaction you’ve ever had with Poe.

At some point, your body must finally take over because when your eyes flutter open, soft sunlight is bleeding into the room through the curtains. Knowing that you’ll slowly go insane if you lay in bed any longer, despite the urge to just stay and watch Poe as he sleeps like an angel, you extract yourself from his arms as carefully as possible and sneak downstairs.

Once you’re safely downstairs and feel as though your every movement won’t wake everyone up, you relax a little. Turning on the coffee pot, you think through what you want to make everyone for breakfast. When you’d first arrived, you promised Kes that if you managed to wake up earlier enough, you’d surprise him with breakfast to say thank you for all his hospitality.

Settling on pancakes, you turn to search for the ingredients as the coffee pot hums and Lucky comes out of his crate, tail wagging happily when he sees you. Crouching on the floor, you give Lucky some scratches, laughing quietly to yourself when he flips over in search of belly rubs.

When you manage to finally pull away from Lucky to start on breakfast, he follows underfoot, twining between your legs and very politely begging for scraps. The sun is streaming in, bathing the whole room in a warm golden glow, making everything look almost heavenly with radiance. Even just looking at the sunshine feels warm, as if just touching the dappled rays could warm you from the inside out.

Until now, you hadn’t realized how desperately you missed the sun and the warmth that comes with it. You missed the warm breezes that rustles the trees and Poe’s curls, you missed the brightly colored flowers and the delicious exhaustion that comes from being outside in the sun all day. You’d noticed how Poe seemed to come alive in the sunshine, but now you believe it reinvigorated you too, making you feel lighter and happier and more at peace than you’ve ever been.

Or maybe that was just from spending time with Poe.

Whatever the reason, you feel completely at peace in the sunlit kitchen, sipping from your coffee mug as the pancakes sizzle and hiss in the pan. Right as you finish the first batch, you can hear the floorboards creaking behind you, so you shout out a cheery “good morning!” without turning around.

“I thought I told you guests don’t work in my house,” Kes says in lieu of a greeting, but when you turn to stutter out an apology you realize he’s smiling at you, “it smells great, thanks for getting up early.”

“Oh, it was no problem, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” You turn back to the stove, flipping the pancakes to keep them from burning.

“Were you uncomfortable at all?” Kes asks, sounding worried that he’s been a bad host.

“No, no! Not at all, it was just one of those nights.” You reassure him, stacking some pancakes on a plate before sliding it to him. Kes hums knowingly before taking the offered plate and sitting down.

After finishing with your own breakfast, you take your mug and your plate and join Kes at the table where he praises your cooking at least a hundred times. There’s just something about Kes that makes him so easy to talk to, and by the time Poe comes down twenty minutes later with an adorable bed head, you and Kes are chatting as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“I put your breakfast in the oven to keep it warm, you might have to make some more coffee though,” you call out to Poe, feeling far too relaxed to get up off your chair to help him. Things should feel different, you think, after what happened last night, but everything feels the same way it did yesterday.

It seems as if there should be some momentous change, that you should feel like a completely different person, but you don’t. You feel the same as always, that yearning tugging at your heart the same as it always does, and you’re worried for a moment that you had dreamed up the whole thing.

But then Poe smiles at you, and even though he doesn’t look any different, it feels different, like there’s a weight behind the gesture. It makes you feel all floaty and giddy and reassures you that last night wasn’t just your over active imagination, that your awkward and stuttering confession really did happen.

The morning passes like molasses, Kes eventually leaving you and Poe alone at the kitchen table to sip your coffee and talk about nonsense as Lucky naps in the pools of sunshine.

“I might paint today,” you say to no one in particular, turning to glance out the window at the expansive backyard you’ve come to love in the few short days you’ve been here.

“That sounds nice,” Poe responds, finally standing from the table to clear your dishes, “Dad wants to take us out to dinner for our last full day here, but otherwise nothing’s planned.”

“Perfect.”

After hours of doing nothing but sitting and drinking coffee, your legs feel like jello when you finally stand. Making your way to the sink, you don’t give Poe the chance to shoo you away before you grab the clean dishes to dry them off as Poe washes.

Even though you’re working like a well-oiled machine, it takes the two of you twice as long as it should to finish with the dishes with how many times you stop working while doubled over with laughter or flick each other with the water.

When you finally manage to get all the dishes clean and put away, you head back upstairs to change out of your pajamas and feel more like a human than before by brushing your teeth and doing some skincare. As you’re gathering up your paints, though, you might as well be a robot with the way your brain short-circuits as Poe changes his shirt right in front of you.

Wiping the corners of your mouth just in case you started drooling, you grab the rest of your supplies and let Poe know you’ll be on the back porch if he feels like joining you. He shouts out that he’ll be down in a few minutes as you close the door.

Coming downstairs, Lucky’s hot on your heels as you slide open the porch door and seat yourself on the top step. Lucky scampers off, chasing some sort of bird, so you take a second after getting your supplies set up the way you like to just take in the view. You already know you won’t be able to truly capture the beauty of the Dameron’s backyard, but you’re going to try your best.

Cracking open your watercolors, you start laying down blues and greens and oranges, and as you begin to focus on the sky, Poe comes out with a plate of fruit and sits down on the step next to you. Neither of you talk, basking in the noises of nature, of trees rustling and birds chirping and that quiet little hum that always seems to permeate the air during summer.

Hours pass, with Lucky traveling in and out of the house as he gets too hot or thirsty or tired from chasing animals, and Poe making sure you have plenty of snacks and drinks, keeping you company as you paint and repaint, trying to blend the colors just right. In your mind, even with all the adventures the two of you have taken together over the year you’ve been friends, this was your favorite time you’ve ever spent with Poe.

There was just something about existing next to each other, something about sitting and watching the light change in his childhood backyard that just seemed so magical. Maybe it was your conversation the night before or maybe that was just the way Poe always made you feel, but either way, you wanted to live here forever, on Kes’s back porch, sipping lemonade next to Poe as Lucky ran wild through the orange trees.

Even after you’ve set your small paintings aside for them to dry, you and Poe sit next to each other on the porch step, taking in all the sights and sounds of summer. Eventually, though, Poe heaves himself off the step and stands, stretching his hands above his head and making his shirt ride up just a little and making your brain short circuit.

“I better head inside and get ready for dinner, it’s starting to get late,” he tells you as he bends to begin gathering all the plates from the snacks you’d shared.

“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” you hand him another stack of plates and start to gather all your painting supplies before Poe heads inside, leaving you alone on the porch.

Letting the warm breeze and the bird song wash over you, you stand, leaning against the railing, for a few moments, just trying to take everything in. In the past year, you’d been trying to slow down, to enjoy every moment you’re awake instead of letting life pass you by. You give yourself a few minutes to feel grateful for everything you’ve done, for the friends and memories and accomplishments you’ve made, before gathering your painting supplies in one hand and heading inside.

Upstairs, you knock on the door to the guest bedroom before easing the door open to reveal the bathroom door shut and the shower running. Despite knowing you should wait until Poe was done and slip into the shower too, to wash away the sweat that’s been accumulating during your time outside, you’re feeling too sugglish and instead promise yourself you’ll shower when you get back from dinner.

As quickly as possible, you pull on a pair of shorts and a top that doesn’t have any paint stains before flopping back on the bed, debating with yourself whether or not you have time for a quick nap. Right as you close your eyes, the bathroom door opens, your internal argument distracting you from the noise of the shower turning off.

It really should be illegal for Poe to be walking around without a warning sign, as if it’s totally normal for someone to look this attractive at all hours of the day. He’s got a towel low on his waist, his curls still damp and beautifully defined, and you think this might actually be the moment your heart stops for good.

Instead, you gesture vaguely to the bathroom and slip inside the humid room, making an attempt at fixing your hair and makeup while trying to stop your heart from beating out of your chest. It seems strange how normal everything feels, how even still just a glance from Poe can send your heartbeat skyrocketing.

There’d been a part of you that was waiting for everything to feel different after last night, and there’s still a small corner of your brain that’s waiting for something momentous to happen. But you’re still you and Poe’s still Poe, and just looking at him still makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a raging crush on the boy who sits next to you in science.

After trying to make yourself more presentable and calming your raging heartbeat, you step out of the bathroom to find that Poe had gotten dressed. Even fully clothed, he’s so pretty you could cry and you're struck once again by how alive he seems, how bright and happy and beautiful. You feel infinitely lucky that you’re able to see him like this, all relaxed and full of sunshine.

Ever the gentleman, Poe confirms that you’re one hundred percent ready to go before he opens the bedroom door, leading you downstairs to meet with his dad before you all head out to dinner.

“Well, don’t you two look nice,” Kes says with a wink when you appear at the bottom of the stairs, and you can’t help but smile and look away, the attention making your skin prickle in a way that isn’t totally unpleasant.

Kes leads you out to his car and double checks that everyone is safely buckled before he even begins to pull out of the driveway. He bypasses the little town and continues down the highway before stopping in a small city a few more miles down the road. Though you can already tell that it’s bigger than Poe’s hometown, it still feels cozy and small, more town than metropolitan city.

“Alright, you kids get us a table and I’ll find a parking spot,” Kes says as he pulls up in front of a nice looking restaurant, cutting off Poe’s protest with just a look. Finally, Poe sighs before he exits the car, opening your door for you before his dad pulls away from the curb.

“I think he does all this on purpose,” Poe mumbles, and it’s so quiet you assume he’s just talking to himself, so you make no move to comment. Instead, you follow Poe inside the restaurant, taking in all of the decor while Poe secures a table with the hostess. You get seated almost immediately, pushing you to wonder if Kes really did have an agenda when it came to you and Poe.

Before you could think any harder on all the things Kes had done over the past few days, Poe tells you, “We used to come here all the time whenever there was something to celebrate. Anniversaries, honor roll, things like that.” He’s smiling, but there’s a certain heaviness to his voice that makes you conflicted about asking for anything more.

With perfect timing, Kes approaches the table and saves you from your internal debate, settling into a seat next to Poe. The three of you make small talk while you browse the menu and as you eat your meal, the conversation gains substance as you begin sharing your own childhood memories with them, weaving your stories with Poe’s and the few anecdotes Kes offers up.

At one point, you’re laughing so hard you’re a little worried that someone will ask you to leave the restaurant, but all you received were a few stares from neighboring tables. There’s just something about being with Kes and Poe together that makes you feel at home, and you’re going to miss spending your days with them.

When the check finally comes, the three of you argue over who’s paying and you consider slipping your card to the waitress while Kes and Poe bicker, but Kes is faster than you are and ends up paying for the meal with a victorious smile. It’s a nice change of pace from the family life you’d left behind, where everyone argued about who had to pay for dinner and not who wanted to pay most.

The drive back to Kes’s house is full of more stories as you pass by different buildings and parks, all of them seemingly attached to a fond memory for Kes. Lucky greets you by the door, and you’re struck by just how much you’ll miss the rambunctious dog and his desperate need for attention.

Wanting to stay up as late as possible and make the most out of your last night, you head up to the guest bathroom to shower and get comfortable, answering some missed messages but rolling your eyes and ignoring all the texts from Finn full of teasing and an absurd amount of heart emojis. When you return downstairs, you’re delighted to see that Kes had pulled out a pile of photo albums, Poe’s obvious dread only increasing your excitement.

“Ok, I’m showering so I don’t have to deal with you two,” Poe says with a groan as he exits the living room and you get comfortable next to Kes, flipping open the first album on the stack. It’s mostly full of baby pictures of Poe and all his firsts, but there are a few pictures throughout the book of Kes and a woman you assume is Poe’s mother.

He hasn’t told you much, but from what you’ve pieced together, Poe’s mother had fallen in love with Kes at the Air Force academy, gotten married and had Poe relatively young, and she’d passed away before Poe was in middle school. You want to know more about her, know more about the woman who created one of your favorite people, but you don’t want to push Poe too hard. As much as you’d love to hear about all of his favorite memories with her, you don’t want to cause him any pain.

Moving on to the second book, you’re greeted with a picture of the woman smiling up at you, her squirmy son grinning in her arms.

“They have the same eyes,” you say quietly, taken aback by how similar they look and amazed at seeing those eyes you love so much staring back at you through time from a different body.

“I know,” Kes adds with sorrow coloring his voice, “everyone always says he has my eyes, but they’ve always been Shara’s.”

“She’s beautiful,” you can’t help but add as Kes’s fingers gently, lovingly trace across the photograph.

The two of you sit for a moment, soaking in the picture and processing the memories that came flooding back before you turn the page. Shara is missing from many of the pictures, and you feel a twinge in your heart because you know she was the one always behind the camera, capturing all those unforgettable moments without ever thinking about being remembered herself. You wonder how hard that must be for Kes, to look back at all those pictures and still feel her there but not be able to see her face, her joy and her laughter and those expressive eyes.

The mood begins to lighten as you stumble across more and more goofy pictures of Poe, and you’re laughing at one of him with the missing teeth and the broken arm when he comes back downstairs.

“Are you seriously still laughing at me?” He asks, sounding exasperated even as he sits next to you on the couch, greedily gathering the book onto his lap and starting to flip through the pages.

Hours pass with the three of you sitting on the couch, laughing and sharing the stories that go along with all of the pictures. There’s a point, when Poe looks around ten, that Kes stops being in so many pictures and when you realize why, you’re close to crying. Instead, you promise yourself to ask more about what Poe remembers about his mother, to help her story and life live on, even now that Poe’s spent most of his life without her.

Even with the undercurrent of sadness that fades the longer you look through the pictures, you end up laughing so hard your stomach hurts and you’re worried you’re going to stop breathing. It’s close to midnight when you finally finish looking through all the pictures, and even then you don’t feel ready to sleep.

“Alright, I’m going to bed,” Kes says as he stands with a sigh, “I’ll make you kids breakfast before you leave tomorrow.” With a final goodnight, Kes makes his way upstairs while you and Poe make your way to the back porch. There’s just something that draws you out there, some inexplicable urge that pulls you outside to gaze over the expansive land.

It’s even more beautiful at night, and a part of you wants to stay out there and paint, watch the ways the moonlight differs from the sunshine with the different hues of orange and blue and green that paint the backyard.

“I’m gonna need a house with a porch like this,” you say, leaning over the railing to get an unobstructed view of the yard, to take it all in one last time.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you turn to look at him and are greeted with a lazy smile, as if it would be hard work for him to have any other expression when he looks at you.

“Ready for bed?”

“I guess,” you reply, because even though you want to spend the rest of your life on the porch, you know you’re going to need your sleep before the drive home tomorrow. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go back, to return to your normal routine and your empty apartment and your schedule that never seems to match up with your friends.

As you slip into the guest bed for the last time, you’re hit with the realization that tomorrow night, you’ll be sleeping alone again. It keeps you awake, as Poe lays a gentle hand over your waist and falls asleep, because you’re really not sure if you’ll be able to sleep without him.

Even though it was only three nights, you’d become so accustomed to your little routine together, the way you wove around and moved seamlessly together as if that was the way things always were and always would be. You never thought it would be this hard to come to terms with, that you’d lose sleep over losing sleep for the rest of your life.

Because you know that once you go back home, everything goes back to normal. The little bubble of magic that surrounds Kes’s home will be broken, and reality will seep in and you won’t know how to navigate life anymore when everything seems dull in comparison to the days you’ve spent here. You and Poe will have a whole new connection to navigate, one that you haven’t even mentioned to each other since your fumbled confessions.

It all starts gnawing at you, all these little worries and insecurities come crawling out to pick you apart. You wonder if you’ll need to play pretend again, act like you never said anything and act like you aren’t crushed every time you see his face. You’re not sure how to cope with all the changes, all the new memories that’ll inhabit your brain and bring you back here whenever life seems dull.

Eventually, after what seems like hours, your eyelids droop closed and you’re pushed off to a dreamless sleep, one that comes to an end much too soon when Poe gently shakes your shoulder. He’s already showered and his belongings are packed, and you feel awful about slowing him down because you know it’s a long drive home but he’s smiling at you and everything seems more bearable in the morning light.

After a quick shower and a speedy repacking of all of your things, you head downstairs to eat one last breakfast with Kes and Poe, one that you wish you could prolong for the rest of the day. All you want is to live in that sunlit kitchen with the door to the porch for the rest of your life.

Still, when it’s time to go, Kes hands you and Poe your own travel mugs and bags of food, snacks and sandwiches he made special just for you, and it truly hits you how similar he is to his son. Really, there should be no surprise why you’d felt such a connection to Kes after only spending a short time with him because he reminds you of Poe in almost every way, down to the gray curls adorning his head.

The goodbyes are extended, and you spend more time talking in the driveway by Poe’s car than you did eating breakfast. You’re reluctant to let Lucky go, and you know your day isn’t going to seem complete without the needy dog demanding some belly rubs from you. Giving Kes one last hug and thanking him for the thousandth time for all his hospitality, you head to the car and let the father and son have the goodbye they need.

“You ready to head home?” Poe asks a few minutes later when he slides into the driver's seat, Kes waving and watching from the front porch. You want to say no, want to ask for more time, for the rest of your life to be spent with no responsibilities and to wake up next to Poe every morning, to spend your days laughing and painting and enjoying every second.

But you miss your friends greatly, and you miss the predictability of your job. As lonely as it can be, you miss your apartment, with your art prints and decorative pillows and candles, and you miss the way the sun streams through your windows on long summer days. You miss your weekly hangouts and the way summer seems to turn every day into an adventure.

“Yeah, I had a great time but I’m excited to get home.”

Tags: @koyafruit @andr0medafallen @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @aellynera @creatively-analytical @tiquinntheghost @luckynachos @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22 @poopirate @loonymagizoologist @stvnnie @campingwiththecharmings @outmodead @welcometostayingawake

[jgyapologism]

Only Friends (book & show canon) Parallels with Hurt and Grieve but Don’t Suffer Alone (my fic) 

So…I noticed a while ago that my Sandray fic and the canon of the show (and now the book) shared some very eerie commonalities, and I just needed to make a list to keep track of all the things that were happening that matched up between my canon and the show/book’s canon, because I don’t think anyone would believe me otherwise.

Obviously, if you haven't read my fic, then this post won't make sense, but in case you want to, you can find it here.  

I’m not saying anything with this post. I don’t think P’Den or P’Jojo have read my fic, and even if they have, the book and show canon were finished long before I started writing, but it just really is too uncanny, and sometimes very specific, in how my understanding of the characters/story match up almost exactly with theirs.

NOTE: All parallels listed are unintentional parallels I wrote/posted before canon in the book/show. Some aspects of the show/book are intentionally used in my fic — those are obviously left out of this list.

Sand with his back to ray in bed in ep 5 / his birthday; ray reaching out and touching his shoulder vs. ch 3 of my fic where he gets in bed with his back to ray during his withdrawals and ray hitting his back during his nightmares (posted before ep 5 ever came out)

Ray’s dad beating him in the novel version vs. “If his father knew he was eavesdropping, Ray would get a beating, for sure.” (ch 4, fic)

Sand researching rehab centers for ray in ep 10 vs. sand telling ray he’s already looked into rehab centers in chapter 3

Ray’s dad being the one to try and buy off Sand to force Ray into rehab in the show (ep 7) vs. Ray’s dad forcing Ray into rehab after his withdrawals in my fic (ch. 8)

jojo on ray (twitter): "but i think rayman should be more open with a doctor than with strangers" vs ch 10 when ray refuses to open up beyond his name at group therapy

Ep 10 when ray yells at sand saying "i'm the one who should be upset. you don't have the right to cry" (show) vs. ch 12 when ray says to sand (after seeing the photos of him and jane) “About what? What could you possibly need someone to comfort you about?” 

Sandray hug / show pda at the therapist's office (ep 10 show) vs. when they hug for a long time / show pda on the lawn of the rehab center (ch 12) 

“Why are you asking so many questions? Just say what you want me to do. You're wasting my time” (ray to his therapist in ep 10) vs. “Then you tell me, what is the reason?” He snaps, unable to hold it in any longer. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me what’s wrong with me?” (ray to his therapist in ch 13 of my fic)

"sand please understand me" (ep 10 show) vs. ray just wanting to be SEEN throughout this entire fic 

“Like two stars caught in a gravitational pull and attracted to one another” (novel camping scene part 6) vs. ch 16 “It’s like he’s hyper-tuned to Sand’s body, moving and orbiting around him like a twin star.” (seriously what the fuck)

Ray being insufferable about being boyfriends in ep 11 vs. ray being insufferable about boyfriends/pet names from chapter 17 onwards

Ray pointing out the plum wine in ep 10 and it being sand’s main source of income / sand destroying a jar vs. sand hiding the plum wine from ray in the fic because it’s his main source of income (ch 18, posted after ep 9 but before ep 10)

Bostonray apology in ep 12 (non-apology/insults/easy forgiveness) vs. ch 18 of my fic boston calling ray and saying “i won’t apologize for it” and ray saying “fuck you” / “asshole” and moving on / reconciliation - just overall getting their dynamic and friendship on the nose

The use of Micro’s song เติมน้ำมัน and playing at the record shop / ray singing it in ep 11 vs the same lyrics/song being played over a record player in chapter 19 during Ray’s welcome home party - posted RIGHT before ep 11 came out (literally what the fuck at this one)

Ray telling sand “i’ve never loved someone so much i drove all the way out…” in the novel and indirectly being the first to tell sand he loves him / say i love you vs. ch. 20 of my fic ray almost being the first to say i love you (and he would have, if not for the interruption)

Just general character things that I didn’t fully expect to see happen in canon:

Ray only realizing he needs help through Sand and getting professional help in the show vs. ray only accepting that he needs help after sand tells him rehab will be good (and then getting professional help)

Nick confirmed as part of the friend group even without boston (show/book) vs. sandnick joining the friend group from ch 14 onwards in my fic 

Ray realizing the full weight of his feelings for sand during therapy in the show vs. ray opening up and talking about his feelings for sand to Dr. Duangkamol in the fic

Sand’s subtle alcoholism throughout the show vs. sand’s subtle alcoholism throughout the fic

Sand not focusing on himself / taking care of himself at all throughout the show vs. sand not focusing on himself / taking care of himself at all throughout the fic (ok i know this is generally agreed upon but i started this fic from ep 2 and just..kept it going yall)

Top suffocating Mew with his presence in the show (ep 9 & 10) vs. the same in my fic

Boston distancing himself from the group after they shut him out vs. the same in my fic (literally posted the chapter sand punches him before even ep 5 came out)

Cheum trying (awfully) to be a good friend at the end of the show (ep 12) vs. cheum trying (awfully) to be a good friend in my fic (ch 15 onwards)

Sand and nick being friends since high school (book canon) vs. sand and nick being long time friends in my fic confirmed in ch 21 (this one is tricky b/c i was still writing the chapter when it was confirmed in book canon — but i’m going to count it anyway since i had already written this section before reading book canon)

Ray being protective and taking care of Sand in the show (during the whole Boeing thing) vs. Ray being protective and taking care of Sand in my fic (once they become boyfriends, e.g., when Sand is sick, during sex, and overall wanting to take care of / spoil Sand)

Sand and Mew actually getting along in the show (ep 12) vs. Sand and Mew befriending each other in my fic (ch 14 onwards)

I stopped tracking after the finale aired, so anything that happens beyond chapter 21 in my fic is unable to be counted as a coincidence, since the canon is complete. The book canon is however still being translated and released from multiple sources, and I haven’t gotten around to it all, so there may be more. 

Anyways, I just think this is really freaky and deserves to be seen because I feel slightly crazy for how fucking close I got these characters to canon before it was ever established in canon??? And some are just a bit too on the nose?? 

P’Jojo and P’Den pls hire me