#also if the audience reads the pair as being in love FROM THE JUMP (see: jimwen or sandray) then every interaction is seen as 🥰 🥰 🥰

[keepthetension]

been wondering this for ages but i kept forgetting to actually ask:

[explodo-smash]

Are you one of the people expecting bkdk to be canon? I just learned that there are people that sincerely believe Hori would have Deku and Bkg have an explicit confession of love. That he's going to be the first popular mangaka to have a endgame gay ship. I am in so many mlm ships of shounen but I've never had the delusion that the author would make them canon despite the evidences otherwise. Like I thought it's fine to ship mlm as long as we stayed in our lane and never harassed the author.

After speaking together, we do believe based on the evidence in the series that BakuDeku being canon is not an even vaguely unreasonable conclusion to reach. We think the story is written in a way you can reach that conclusion easily, so much that even casual viewers who aren’t shippers are questioning the nature/potential conclusion of their relationship.

One of the most consistent and convincing lines of evidence for us has been Katsuki taking on roles/positions traditionally reserved for female heroines/love interests (if you’ve seen anyone call him “narratively androgynous,” this is what they’re referring to). In the context of Jump magazine, we have a number of shonen heroines and love interests to compare Katsuki to. The similarities are so striking that many notable people (including the VAs for the anime) have taken to calling him the heroine of the series.

However, we do think things like homophobia (whether it’s the writer or the audience/consumerbase at large– in this case we’re primarily referring to the audience), the safety of everyone involved, and timing are all unpredictable factors people have to take into consideration when writing/reading a story of this magnitude. Needless to say, if Horikoshi is indeed planning an endgame for bakudeku, he’d also have to take these factors into consideration.

Horikoshi has a record of being pretty in-tune with his fanbase. He definitely keeps some eye on bnha’s reception–for example, he mentioned a while back that both the people who love Katsuki and the people who hate him will have something to look forward to in this finale (we can now see what he meant lol). He’s very likely aware of the people who love bakudeku and the people who loathe it. 

Taking into account that he tends to be very intentional with his writing choices, he’s written this story in a way that not only centered bakudeku’s relationship over others (notably Izuku + Ochako’s, the character he’d presumably end up with if things were going predictably?), but also went the extra mile to distinguish their relationship as unique, closer than all their other relationships, the “biggest pillar of the story” (x, x). He didn’t have to do all of this. This extra push is what’s giving bakudeku that undeniable chance at an endgame right now, because it’s come to a point where no one can ignore the implications of scenes like this:

On the flip side, we don’t think people’s hesitation is unreasonable. It’s scary! If bakudeku were to fall flat of all this buildup/our expectations, it wouldn’t be the first time the romantic implications between a pair of boys in a story like this was ignored. Hell it wouldn’t be the first time a popular pair in general, (gay or not) got ignored in favor of what the author just felt like doing, regardless of what any previous developments in the story or interviews or official artwork would have us believe. There’s enough written evidence that canon bakudeku wouldn’t be surprising, but there’s also (at the time of writing this response) still room for things to go another direction, for all of this to be recontextualized and passed as something else. 

As per social norms/patterns of behavior, this would be disappointing as hell but not surprising. Especially for people who have been let down before, we completely understand the need/impulse to distance oneself from the idea/hope that bakudeku may become canon.

In all honesty, if it turns out bakudeku isn’t canon or left open-ended (say, an ending where they’re partners of some kind/the closest to one another without that explicit romantic confirmation), we would be frustrated/heartbroken. Not because we feel like Horikoshi shouldn’t do what he wants, he should. But because there’s been a clear effort to bring LGBTQ+ readers into the fold, and tell and portray our experiences in MHA. Horikoshi has done a beautiful, incredible job of writing various LGBTQ+ and marginalized experiences as a metaphor in his stories. Toga is a prime example. This is something that readers around the world have noticed, and it’s something MHA is special for (see this data x, and the further context/commentary on it given here x). 

We think it’s intentional. This story and the relationships in it have invoked experiences close and personal to many of us. Things are in a state right now where we wouldn’t just feel baited, we feel like readers would have a right to feel unsatisfied.

That being said, feeling unsatisfied doesn’t equate to feeling empowered to harass or bother others. Especially not Horikoshi himself, and also including other readers who had differing expectations. This is really the case across the board. We should all be able to control our anticipation/expectations without becoming assholes. 

It’s not just the shippers, by the way. People who work on the series or work closely with Horikoshi have rooted for bakudeku to go beyond. Izuku and Katsuki have already done what a good chunk of the readerbase thought impossible and became friends. People see their writing, their potential, and they want more. The voice actors (x, x sorry for the crunchy pic it's all i've got atm), academics (x), musicians (x, x) , editors (x) and more have all kind of rallied around Bakugou and Deku’s bond, with a particular sensitivity towards the deeply and uniquely intimate nature of it + how it evokes romance.

We’d like to see MHA exist free of the burdens previous popular shounen series have had placed on them. But that’s a conversation for the ending. As far as the fanbase goes, I think it’s super important people practice humility and caution when speaking to others. We have NO way of knowing what will happen. People who have been traumatized by situations like this in the past have a right to be anxious, people in general are allowed to withhold judgment until we have all the information we need. However, we don’t think having hope or confidence that this narrative might lead us to a canon bakudeku is unwarranted or delusional.

At the end of the day one thing is true, and this was something we had to fight to “prove” much longer than we had to prove Bakudeku had romantic potential - it’s that Kacchan and Izuku’s lives are going to be forever intertwined in this new era of their world that births from the finale. 

They’re forever intertwined in a way that’s not replicable for any other character in the series, and that’s amazing all on its own. We’ll just have to wait and see how far they take it! Thanks for reading if you got this far, and Happy Holidays!

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Merhaba!

If you feel uncomfortable, you can delete this request!

Warning: non-con, toxic behavior, baby trapping?

Request here! for a modern dark!aegon, where the reader has been his friend for a long time and aegon has a horrible dependency on her, as well as an obsession and mostly never lets anyone near her, since he sees her as his, anyway, the reader one day tells him she is accepted for a scholarship in another country but he gets mad because she is going to leave him so he forces her to have sex with him and also hopes to get her pregnant so she will never leave him.

you’re so cute nonnie!!!!! this is totally fine, I don’t normally write for non-con, but I’ll let this slide cause it’s kinda hot 🥵 I’m combining it with this ask, and leaning more towards a dub-con, manipulation tactic of dark!Aegon!!! hope you enjoy xx

quote in the link above is - "gentle, slow manipulation - "just a kiss" to "I'll only grind against you" to "only the tip, promise" to "just a little more" to "I won't cum inside" until you're a cum-filled wreck underneath them."

Dilemmas & Dreams.

PAIRING: Dark!Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 4,179.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, co-dependency, somnophilia, dub-con, slight mentions of non-con, mentions of pregnancy, time jumps.

A/N - so this took me forever cause it was a hard concept to plot. tried to make it more dub-con/non-con but still slightly consensual, just because I do not condone using violence for sex. but dark!Aeg is just my intrusive thots. I also did not include my taglists, just cause I did not want to trigger or force anyone to feel the need to read this, if it isn't your thing <3 no pressure. this is for a specific audience.

It was an universal understanding that relationships could get complicated from time to time, to say at the very least... This did not cease with your unique relationship with Aegon.

With every fibre in your heart, you love him dearly, and that [if you were being honest], would never change. He generally was not the ideal type of man you'd pursue [as you had initially assumed] nor did you think it was even a realistic possibility to fall for his type. Likewise, you did no think of yourself as his particular type, although Aegon was less picky than you when it came to finding a mate. Yet he had this almost omnipotent-like power over you. Luring you farther and deep enough, he kept you eagerly lingering for more: for more of his touch, his scent, his love and affections. An urge you attempted countless of times to keep silenced and at bay, and yet you felt the constant, probing need to keep the man sated.

With many of your short, previous relationships, you'd never granted a man the opportunity to bear such a profound effect on you, nor did any of them truly possess the charisma Aegon had naturally wielded. It was all very consuming and perplexing, yet a part of you quite enjoyed the crisp attention Aegon showered you with in return for your loyalty and commitment to him. Your long-time warfare of constantly seeking approval and praise did not help the situation either, only exploiting your vulnerability more, as you vowed to refuse disappointing the man at all costs.

And from what you had learnt and could decipher about Aegon's history, he had never grown this infatuated with another before, let alone actually granted himself the opportunity to have a significant other. His previous flings had been fleeting and meaningless, only to glutton himself off of sex, inflating his subtle ego. However, you, you had caught him off-guard. A fellow colleague and long-time friend of Aemond's, you had met mutually. You knew of each other, though had never truly met, for Aemond was desperate to keep some distance between yourself and his elder brother. He had mentioned many things about Aegon, not all good, yet you knew better than to judge or presume. In theory, you were both quite the opposites, yet something about you, your innocence, warm demeanour drew him to you, like a moth to a flame. From the many family quarrels Aemond had disclosed to you, it seemed Aegon was problematic with some sort of self-conflict from within. He struggled with certain tendencies such as drinking, partying, avoiding responsibilities, yet nonetheless, he was still pretty decent and respectful towards you. Helplessly though, you felt an immense pity for him, even if Aemond argued against it, perhaps it was your nativity: regardless, the more Aegon latched himself closer towards you, the better he became. More present at home, the less he drank and spent his days hungover and pissed, the less hostile he was towards his family.

Although, he remained a pest towards his younger brothers, Aemond and Daeron, occasionally taunting them. Not to mention, he did go against Aemond's urges to leave you alone.

"Aeg, Y/N's off limits. I have never asked of anything from you, nor have I ever really expected anything from you, if I'm being honest. But, I digress, she is off limits. Understood?"

"Why, have you finally grown the balls to actually ask her out? Or you scared she'll actually say yes to the likes of me?"

"OFF LIMITS Aeg! I fucking mean it!"

"No, no- How about I date Y/N instead, and in return I leave you alone? See now that sounds like an even better deal to me, brother."

Not to mention, you were undeniably a sight for sore eyes, beautiful nonetheless, he was determined to have you. The thought that someone else could pluck you from him at any given second, not excluding his younger brother, began to stir something rageful inside of him. The more time he spent around you, the more possessive he could feel himself becoming. A side he did not fathom existed in him, yet you had so ignorantly ignited. Although, he relished in it. Eventually, and much to Aemond's reluctance he inserted himself into your conversations, making his presence known whenever you were around, or forcing his younger brother to exploit your whereabouts with threats only each brother knew about one another. Regardless, his tactics worked and eventually, you became his. His.

Since then all had been bliss, yet, now, you were struck with a dilemma...

****

"What do you mean you could be moving, Y/N? Is this a few weeks kinda thing or you're gone... For good?" Aegon raised, his voice growing audibly louder with such a ferocity, you'd never heard the likes of it before.

"W-Well it's a scholarship, Aeg. One that I honestly never even thought possible to get, I-I just applied off a whim. B-But now that they're offering it, maybe, just maybe, I was hoping you could support me."

The words fell shaky from your quivering lips; Aegon's face was struck with a blatant concoction of confusion, hurt and fury, like a wounded predator that had unforeseen a counter attack.

"Just answer me this, Y/N, how long exactly will you be gone for? How long are you planning to leave me?"

He took a great stride towards you, his hands reaching over, tightly gripping your forearms by the sides, as if in fear you might run at any minute. His voice although stern and unnerving, his lilac eyes glistened tearily.

"It-It's a funded Masters course, Aeg, just for two years I'll be studying abroad. B-But I'll plan to come back to see you whenever I can. Every holiday, every semester's break, you bet I'm coming back to you. A-And you could even come and see me, baby. You know, I-I would never leave you like that, Aeg, you know this, p-please-"

An eerie silence was all that you were met with, as Aegon's grip on you had loosened slowly. His face remained stoic, yet his teary eyes flickered, before he began to dauntingly nod his head, walking away from you towards the closed window of your apartment. You could hear sniffles, before he released a long, exhausted sigh as he looked onwards to the scenery outside.

"So this is how you disregard me, huh, Y/N? Is this how you see me, see us? Just something you can toss to the fucking side, once you find something a little more interesting to chase after?"

His harsh words stung like the venom of a viper. Now turned back towards you, his hardened gaze was chilling, almost even threatening. You felt somewhat fearful of Aegon at this very exact moment, although he would never hurt you, that you were certain of. He was often stubborn and hot-tempered though knew to control himself swiftly. Reassured by this, you simultaneously also felt the desperate urge to coddle and soothe his fears, vouching that you could nor would ever dispose of him like some piece of garbage.

"A-Aeg, never! That's not me, please! You are overthinking this, Aegon, you'-re-you're not thinking straight, my love. I-I know this can be overwhelming but t-try to understand me. Please-"

Taking a small step towards him, you came to a sudden halt, as he took a step back maintaining the distance between. His hand lifting mid way as if to signal you to stop, swatting you away.

"So now my feelings aren't valid? Fuck, Y/N... You really are starting to sound like a real, spoilt little bitch now. Just like the rest of them fucking sluts!"

Seating himself promptly down onto the bed, he ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair, his head facing towards the ground, as another defeated sigh escaped his lips once more. It was only when he resumed his sole attention back unto your frozen frame, did he stupidly realise that now he had really crossed the line.

"Get out," Your voice although quiet just above a whisper, was crisp.

"Y/N-Baby-I-I didn't mean that-"

"Out, Aegon!"

A tightness in your chest began to intensify, a hand falling over your left, clothed breast, as your breathing began to hasten into loud, hitched sobs. Your eyes darted mindlessly around the room, feeling as though the walls began to close in, a sense of claustrophobia that you'd never feared nor experienced before brewing. Your cheeks turning scarlet by the seconds, as your eyes began to fill with hot tears, streaking down your tender face. Cowering down your other free hand, was poorly attempting to grab at anything solid enough to keep you upright, although Aegon bounding over towards you, reached over, lending you a spare chair, guiding your shaking body over to sit, as he cowered down in front of you.

"Y/N, Y/N, my angel, baby please- I-I didn't mean that, I-I could never mean that. I'm just so-just so upset that you-you didn't tell me about this. You-You always tell me everything. What would I do without you, huh, my sweet girl?-"

Brushing a strand of your hair aside, his other free hand cupping your hot, blushed cheek, his thumb stroking away a freshly fallen tear.

"H-How could I live without you for two years, if I can't even bear an evening without you?"

And yet no response other than earning heart-aching sobs from your behalf. Seeing you in such a distraught, unconsolable state only in turn tormented Aegon, as the tears that he had once so proudly held back, now began to streak across his soft, handsome face.

"B-Baby, please. Please, say something. I-I'm so sorry, don't-don't hate me. I couldn't bear it-"

"Ugh- Just fuck off, Aegon!-" Wailing his arms off you, you shove him off, as you stand hastily, storming aside, creating that deliberate distance in between once again. Aegon slowly rises himself up, that familiar hurt look tinged across his disheartened face, he roughly wipes the tears off his eyes, leaving them puffy and red.

"Sorry? Sorry about what exactly, Aeg? Sorry, that you can't just be an adult for one second, and accept the fact that some of us have priorities in our lives other than being in a fucking relationship? To think that you could be mature about this, how foolish of me..."

"Y/N, I-"

"Don't, Aeg! Don't even bother explaining yourself... I think it's best that you just leave me to decide."

Brazenly interrupting him before he could utter another word, your hand meekly gestures towards the door to your apartment. You couldn't even find the stamina to look Aegon dead in the eyes, fearful that any tender look from his part, you'd crumble once more in a second.

Seeing how riled up and tense you were, Aegon reluctantly began to pace himself towards the door, taking his time before a firm hand reached, gripping the metal knob of the door. The door opening as he unlocked the entry, he came to a sudden stop, turning back momentarily staring at you, tempted to say something. However, just as his attention panned across to you, your focus from him shifted elsewhere, fleeting from a window to the floor, desperate not to look directly at him. Sensing your message, he remained quiet as he left the premises, firmly shutting the door behind.

As the pain-staking silence fell once more, the intensity of the situation felt magnitude that very second Aegon had left. Feeling weak in your knees, your walked back over towards your bed, laying yourself down, burying your tearful face into a pillow, as the sobs returned, only now muffled. Your mind was racing rapidly. Regardless of what had unfolded, you cared deeply for Aegon and knew that it wounded him immensely that you hadn't involved him in your decision, prior to making such a life-changing commitment. It was his life too, that you toyed with, and a deep, integral part of you felt somewhat guilty.

Although, the ugly side of Aegon had showed, and it scarred you bitterly. Would he act and lash out like this at every chance something major would come? Was it a flaw of his, that you were willing to accept and embrace? You had no certainty. The fleeting minutes became hours into the night, as you laid still in bed, empty of tears, eyes stinging, your pillow soaked and face flustered, before you'd gradually began to fall into a deep sleep. Exhausted by the day's mishaps, you were hopeful the new day would offer some consolation...

****

Whether you had been dreaming vividly enough to be stirred awake, you could not say. Although, Aegon was on your mind as you drifted off to sleep, remaining in your dreams and as you slightly woke, too tiresome to remember the details of the events in the long hours prior. You felt something heavy, yet awfully familiar, the musky scent, pressing against your body.

Followed by a soft "shush-ing", you instantly recognised the deep, low tone that belonged to your boyfriend's manly voice.

"It's just me, baby. Go back to sleep. I couldn't leave you all alone like this."

"Hmm, Aeg-" Was all that you could pathetically muster, before returning readjusting your head on the pillow. It wasn't uncommon for Aegon to find himself in your apartment after hours or even whilst you were still out during the day, for you did offer him keys, and came home to find him lounging around as if it was his own home. You trusted him enough to share a copy, and up until now, he had been loyal not to abuse his right, thus, this reoccurrence had never startled you.

"That's right, my sweet girl. It's just me... I'm going to fix everything, okay?"

Unlike how sinister and brooding his tone with you was just hours ago, you now felt comforted and safe, hearing that familiar, saintly tone of his. Like a lullaby it ushered you back to sleep, as you felt a small, wet kiss planted on your forehead, as he brushed the astray strands off your face, taking a few moments to gaze upon you lustfully, before stirring himself up.

Feeling the mattress beneath move, you sensed that he was now positioned on his knees, hovering above you, as each leg pinned to either sides of your upper thighs, faintly hearing a metal clanging, as he unbuckled his belt and zipper. You remained laying comfortably on your stomach, your back facing him, your face turned to the side against the plush pillow, he could see you just faintly nodding against his words in agreement. It earned a soft smile from Aegon, as he pulled his pants down enough, laying over you, as his bare, hard cock began to grind against the thin fabric of your dress, just between your ass cheeks. Just from the sheer action, you could feel some wetness stirring beneath, a visceral reaction Aegon found so easily he could induce from you.

"Only the tip, baby... I promise. I'm going to make it up to you, my sweet, sweet angel."

Sensually lifting your dress up, he lightly lifted you, turning you slightly to the side with one arm, just enough for him to pull your panties down: planting you back gently, as to not startle you completely awake.

"My good, good girl. Always doing so well for me, not like anyone else...I was such a dick to you, wasn't I, baby?"

Earning another simple nod, he resumed with grazing his cock over your sensitive skin, feeling its pulsating throbs against your cheeks.

"But my princess, did do something very naughty... Trying to leave me, without asking. Leaving me all alone, you know how upset that would make me, right baby?"

"Hmm-Aeg-"

"But look at you begging for me...Now what makes you think you could leave me so easily, then? Precious girl, didn't think this through, did she?"

Gradually, his firm, thick cock slowly began to push itself deeper and deeper between your thighs, as one, strong arm stretched over your side to keep him steady, the other manoeuvred your legs, spreading them wide enough for him to position himself right between your centre.

"Don't worry, Princess. I'm here now, I'm going to help you make this decision, like a good boyfriend. Wouldn't want you to overthink anything, now let me take care of you... I promise I won't go in deeper, I won't cum inside."

Feeling your eyes naturally flutter from reality and dream, as you felt a lightening pain course through your body from the sensitive spot below. Aegon had forced himself in, your walls stretching as wide as possible to accomodate for his dense, throbbing mass, you could feel yourself tightly clenching over him, rewarded by deep, growling grunts and moans from him.

"Fuck, baby. Always know how fucking good to make me feel...Now why would you ruin it, and do something so stupid? Have I been so cruel, you wish to leave me?"

"N-No Aeg-" You'd managed to softly whimper, stirring even more awake, although eyes remained firmly shut, as you arched yourself in response to Aegon's slowly paced thrusts.

"Are you bored with Aeg, that you want to leave me?"

"No."

"Have I frightened you so, you wish to run away far from me?"

Within that split second he'd uttered those words, that familiar, daunting tone returned to him, and you felt your heart begin to beat feverishly.

"I-I love you Aeg."

Now his thrusts began to hasten in response to your words, his grunts primal and louder.

"Say it again, I'm struggling to believe you. You tried to deceive me today, angel. That was cruel of you...Say it again."

"I love you, Aegon."

This time more awake and conscious of what was going on, you were too deeply saturated in being sated by Aegon in the moment. You couldn't muster a single ounce of dignity nor sanity at this very moment to stop him in his tracks, knowing what he was capable of, he had all the power in his court.

"P-Pull out, Aeg-"

Your wetness now greatly coating his deep, hefty cock, feeling the mess beginning to ooze and seep from the edges of your entrance down your thighs. As he pulled out slightly and with his help, he turned you over, now both of you facing one another, although this time, managing to maintain complete and utter focus. Resuming to his sloppy, rough thrusts, you could feel the intensity of his cock, determined to push and shove himself as deep as possible, the tip of his cock just striking that sweet, sensitive spot of your cervix.

Aegon's face lowered down towards yours, as his ample, moist lips lingered over yours. Momentarily, just grazing above one another, before plummeting down on yours, as he noticed your lips beginning to stir to speak, desperate to shut you before you could ask once more. His tongue forced it way into yours, swirling and occupying your own: this unexplainable control that he had over you, now once more overtaking you. In the moments that Aegon had left, although maddened by his words, you had missed him. Could his brutal words bear truth, that two years without seeing him, would be impossible?

"Now, why would I do that? I promised you I would help, that's what I'm going to do. I'm doing this all for us."

His lips now trailing along your jawline down to the crook of your neck, where he knew you had a weak, sensitive spot that made you close to thoughtless. You could feel a upturn smirk strewed across his face, against your skin. Regardless, you could not surmise his intention, far too deep in devious, lustful thoughts, you needed Aegon to sate you completely.

"A-Aeg-"

Within a few more long, taunting minutes as Aegon edged you on, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling his warm, dense seed filling you up, it was a feeling unlike the many, intimate times before. You both were often proactive in protection, and yet tonight, although different, it was somewhat sublime.

"That's my good, perfect girl, that's it. Did so fucking well. I need you to stay put like this for me, okay?"

Regardless, that his fill had drenched you inside, Aegon remained buried deeply inside. Somehow, managing to turn you once more to the side, as he laid himself cosily behind you, thick, muscular arms holding you tenderly from behind, as his cock remained sorely stretching yet pleasantly coaxing you inside.

"Hush now baby, my good, sweet princess. How could I ever let you go so easily, huh? What kind of a man would I be to let his girl leave like that?-"

His hot, breathless words felt soothing as he whispered against your ears, his free hand atop, once more fixing the sweat-infused tangled strands away from your heated face. Leaving a few pecks of kisses against your dewy skin.

"Now promise to get some rest for me, angel. I need you strong for my little surprise."

****

Had you known what was to follow in the early months to come, the significance of Aegon's cryptic gesture following the sex that night. How his large, rough hand found it's way over to your lower abdomen, lightly caressing it in a circular motion, something he'd never normally done before, although not unquestionable at the time... Upon awaking early that morning, Aegon explained his surprise visit during the night, grieving over the sheer thought of losing you was enough to make the man cry once more, profusely apologising for the poisonous words he'd spat upon you. He refused to leave your side, and you knew you could not stop him. Nonetheless, he was well-intentioned, and you forgave him, allowing him to spend many more nights and days to come. Too preoccupied with the decision to be made, as Aegon kept pestering you for advice and discussion, you'd forgotten the whole notion of birth control, and only remembered a few days after. Regardless, the love making did not cease, as Aegon persuaded you that he wished to spend as many hours with you, "in case you decide to leave, I need to cherish every moment with you." Poetic of him, although, his agenda was far more conniving.

****

"Aeg- I'm, I'm pregnant."

The words were as sweet as honey to his sly ears: he did not lash out nor did he act upset nor surprised. In fact, unlike the momentous news you'd dropped before regarding the scholarship, this did not seem to phase him, not in the slightest.

You both rarely spoke of the thought of having children together, being both still quite young in age, and knowing that Aegon's youth was not one he favoured, regardless, he remained pleasantly optimistic upon hearing the news.

"Baby, this is good- This is wonderful."

"B-But what about the scholarship, what do I do?"

Cupping your tender, shocked face in his hands, his reassuring smile offered you some ease, though not enough. A child, an actual child. You hadn't really comprehended the notion of motherhood, nor did you completely go against it.

"Y/N, this-" One hand now stroking the same spot on your lower stomach, now a slight swell present, as he did those many nights ago. It all clicked now.

"This happened for a reason, you can't deny us this. Our own little baby, Y/N, we can have our own little family, sweetie. I promise I'll take care of us, all of us. You can't be stressing about some scholarship now..."

"But Aeg, I really did want it."

"So you-you want the scholarship, more than a family? More than making me happy or yourself? I thought you would be okay with this."

"I-Of course Aeg, I would love to have a family with you, only you now that I'm being honest. But I just always thought in due time, I-"

"Now's the time baby... This happened to us for a reason. Maybe the scholarship wasn't meant to be. Maybe something else will come along, they're always giving out scholarships, babe. If they offered it to you before, they'll offer it again. How could they deny you?"

His words sweet, and reaffirming. It was true, there were endless opportunities to apply for degrees and scholarships throughout the years. And it seemed Aegon, was extremely on board with the idea of becoming a father. Knowing how far he'd come from the rebellious boy he'd once been, stammering into the house late at night as Aemond and you remained studying endlessly, to the confident man he was now, was astounding. His dear mother, Alicent, even knew it, and thanked you deeply, for years she had been aimlessly trying to better her eldest.

"You are making all this possible for me, Y/N. Things I never dreamt to be or the person I'd become, you are the sole reason for my happiness. And now with this baby, I feel I could conquer the world."

[pynkgothicka]

Ｈｙｐｎｏｔｉｃ ＭＹＧ

Synopsis - You go out to rockstar Agust D’s performance. But he gets one look at you and is hooked instantly.

Pairing - Dark! Yandere! Rockstar! Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Warnings - DUBCON, drug induced sex, acts of violence, gaslighting to the extreme, kinda kidnapping

Authors Note - As you can tell I'm writing for all the members lol, also sorry your mom sucks

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

He was so cool.

Agust D was performing right in front of you, the front row to his concert being the best view you could ever ask for. He was so passionate in his craft and you were entranced. All his songs showed the time and effort going into them and the fact that he loved performing them. Even if it was such a small venue and audience.

Hell you had to beg to even be allowed to go and you couldn't even be more happier if you tried.

Then he made eye contact with you. You could feel your breathing stop as he smiled and winked before continuing back to performing. God you could nearly faint.

The entire rest of the night you were filled with butterflies, Agust D noticed you of all people. Or maybe it was something he did with any girl he saw, and you were just blowing it out of proportion. Whatever it meant it didn't matter, you were going to ride that high all the way to the end.

By the time the concert ended and you could finally leave without being bombarded by a mass of people leaving at once you reached inside of your small crossbody bag to grab you phone. That was until you were interrupted by a hand touching your shoulder, making you jump.

You turned around to see a buff security guy with a clipboard in hand. “Ma'am, your wanted backstage.”

“Did I do something wrong!? I'm so sorry if I di-”

“None of the sort, actually Mister Agust wants to see you and I'm here to escort you there.” You darted your eyes all around before looking back up at the man.

“Is this like a prank?” You finally ask raising a brow.

“Nope. But I will say that we don't usually do this and to be honest this is my first time even seeing him request someone to be brought to him, so no. This is very much real.”

“Holy Shit! Do I just like- oh God!” You began to freak out fanning yourself with your hands as the guard laughed and smiled at you.

“It's okay ma'am follow me.”

🎸

And you did all the way until you reached a room with a shiny metal plate with the engravings Agust D dead in the center. The guy knocked for you a low hum being heard from the other side in response. “Hey, it's the girl you wanted to see. Do you want her now?”

“That's a dumb ass question, of course I do.”

That was him.

It was really him

The guard nodded at you and left leaving you to actually open the door. You hesitated the door handle wiggling in your grasp, and you took a deep breath before walking through the door.

He sat there in all his glory, on his couch messing with a guitar. Agust D… His orange hair fell, covering his eyes. The same ones that stared at you right now.

You found your hand going up to your hair and nervously played with it as he made his way over to you. It was a bad nervous tick you had and you couldn't stop it. “I love your music, so much Mr Agust D!” You finally pushed out all in a single rush of confidence.

“Call me Yoongi baby,” He got up from his position and put the guitar on it's stand before making his way over to you. He eyed you up and down, stopping whenever he stood right in front of you, his eyes looking into your own. You could see the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. “God your even prettier up close.”

“You think I'm pretty?” You began freaking out again looking everywhere but him.

“Of course, you never heard that before?” He snickered out, still working on tuning his guitar. The way his hands moved, had you in a daze.

“No actually, and thank you.”

“Yeah,” He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “Come sit.” You moved to where you sat all the way to the other side of the couch making sure you didn't interfere with what he was doing. “I'm pretty sure your familiar with the fact that this is my last America show before I head back home right?”

“Yes of course!” You basically blurted out. You groaned before placing your head in your hands letting out a small sorry. Yoongi laughed, and you swore it was like bells chiming, the sound making your body heat up even more than it already was.

“And well I was going to leave as soon as possible cause y’know I wanna go home n shit. But, then I saw you tonight.”

“Me?” You added surprised, still not believing the situation you were in right now.

“Yup, you. With that pretty little lacey top. Anyways here I am thinking wow I really want to get to know this girl better, but I can't do that if I leave. And I decided, how about I just hang with you tonight?”

Yoongi was now looking directly at you. But if only he could see the inner turmoil you were experiencing right now. You had to get home and call your mom to pick you up, orrr you could spend your night with your idol and just get a ride with him later on.

God you were going to regret this.

“I would love too! Was that too loud?”

“No, not at all. It was adorable. Come on let's get the fuck out of here.”

🎸

Yoongi was so different from his persona.

He had taken you to a quiet late night dinner, letting you order whatever you wanted and more just to make you happy. This was drastically different from who he presented himself as on stage. But you loved the duality in it all. The entire time he would tell you about all his travels and what he's working on. And you listened to everything he said, his life being much more exciting than your own.

“Shit I've been talking about myself this entire time, I'm so sorry about that beautiful. Tell me about you.” Yoongi leaned back taking a sip of the coke he got for himself.

“Well um, I'm taking a gap year right now before I switch majors, so I'm working to make a little money for myself.” You spun your straw around in the milkshake be practically ordered for you. He said you deserved something sweet in your life, and that it was his treat. Honestly it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for you. “I'm staying with my mom until I get things straightened out with buying my own space. And that's really it honestly.”

“So no like real friends or anything?” Yoongi asked sitting back up to lean on the counter.

“Nope.”

“Well take it from me, you deserve more in life.” Yoongi placed down his drink. “No one really deserves to be alone like that.”

You looked away giving a small smile. “Thank you Yoongi. You know I never expected to be hanging out with you tonight. Your world is so different than mine. I usually have just sit at home and done nothing. So I think what I'm trying to say is thank you for taking me out.

“It was no problem, I enjoy hanging out with you. Plus it's just a bonus your cute.”

“Pshh stop it, there's so many other choices.” You downplayed his attraction to you, he shouldn't try to even say things like that.

“Yeah but I choose you. And there's no changing that.” He took out a sharpie and took your arm, slowly beginning to write. When he was done you saw he had written his number down your arm. You smiled at him and he gave a even wider one back, showing his gums. “It's pretty late, let me get you home. Plus I got a flight to catch tomorrow.”

🎸

Sneaking into your house was harder than you thought for as soon as you stepped into the door your mom was in the kitchen, with the lights on eyeing you like a hawk.

“How did you get home?” She questioned bluntly.

“A friend got me, the traffic was horrible."

“Don't lie to me. Your friends are all home and no where near here. So. Let me ask you again. How did you get home?”

“I walked.”

“At this time of night?! Do you know what the fuck could've happened. You could've gotten hurt, I could've lost you.” She lamented. Her hands slammed into the table in frustration. Yet you just kept quiet and refused to look at her. “Oh now you got that dumbass look on yo face like you did nothing wrong.”

“Okay.”

That's all you had to say. It's all you could muster to say. Then you turned around start heading to your room down the hall. All while she kept yelling at you for god knows what. You refused to let her see you cry, she can't have that power over you.

🎸

The next few weeks of your life couldn't be more perfect. You spent every waking minute talking to Yoongi. He'd constantly show you what he'd been working on and his friends back in Korea.

He even called you every night.

“Baby I want to get you over here immediately.” He'd said one night while you got ready for bed.

“Yoongiii you know I can't do that. My mom won't even allow me to go on a vacation in America on my own.” This was a frequent topic of conversation for the two of you. He had wanted you over with him so bad. The thing is that the two of you aren't even a thing yet. For all you know, your just friends.

“Well I miss you, and I don't have another break in another week or or so.” Yoongi groaned out. “A week is pretty long to me atleast.”

“Oh you can wait a week. Then you can come visit and we can hang out again.” You hoped he didn't put that much thought into your dismissiveness.

“Fine, only because it's you.”

“I'm going to have to like beg my mom to let me out the house again on my own.” You say looking behind you. The door was closed, which meant she probably wouldn't barge in your room and hear what you were saying.

“Aren't you a grown woman? Why does she care what you, as a grown woman now, does?” Yoongi did have a point. You were 19, and honestly you wouldn't say that's a reasonable age to refered to as a grown woman. But still he had a point.

“I mean yeah, I just don't want to severe that connection to her.”

“Yeah but she walks all over you, I just want you to be alright that's all. You know I care about you.”

That could've made you faint with how hard you were swooning. You made a mhmm noise before going silent, maybe you could put some thought into cutting off that tie with your mom.

🎸

As you were getting ready for bed about a week or two later a knock resounded at your window. You walked over and opened the blinds seeing Yoongi. In his iconic leather jacket and black pants. You jumped back, you weren't expecting that at all. You opened the window allowing him to crawl in. “Wow your room is more cozy that I'd expect. Anyways get some clothes on, I got a room somewhere and we're going out.”

“But my mom!?” You whisper yelled.

“Fuck her! I came all this way for you. That means your important to me. Which also means that god damnit we're hanging out tonight!”

“I can't say no to do that I guess.” You slipped on a jacket and a pair of boots. “But we can't go out the front door, Jesus I haven't snuck out since like ever.”

“That was never my plan, we're going out the window.” Yoongi hopped out reaching his hand out to take yours, pulling you out. Your hands held the glass and you slid it down the furthest it would go. That was until you were interrupted by Yoongi pulling you to a motorbike. “I rented it out just for you, I have way more at home. I also just wanted to scare you a bit.”

“Ahh. I'm so scared. Let's go before she looks out the window.”

“Fine fine, hop on.”

🎸

You'd been in his hotel room for quiet a bit by now, just chilling with your idol. It was strange, this was a scenario you could only dream about. Yet it was now your reality, his arm around your waist pulling you in close to him on the couch.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” Yoongi moved to where his lips brushed over your ears. You nodded. “I've wanted you so bad ever since I saw you during my set baby.” The way he let the word baby run off his tongue. Your panties instantly got damp. “Would you let me have you?”

“I umm. I haven't done that type of stuff before. I'm still a virgin- Plus I don't want to just be a one night stand thing…”

”Oh so that's the issue… shhhh don't worry, I’m not going to leave you high and dry, haven’t you always wanted to sleep with a rock star? Sleep with me?” Yoongis hand trailed down your chin his smile growing on his face. His thumb pushed down on your bottom lip.

You nodded shyly, watching Yoongi lean in, connecting both of your lips together. You hummed into the kiss, melting instantly. He wrapped both of his arms around your waist pulling you in even closer, both of your bodies heating the room instantly. He pulled away going to latch himself onto your neck, leaving a dark purple mark as he pulled away. “Take off everything, I want to see you.” Yoongi whispered huskily leaning back into the couch. You worked on taking off your clothes standing up to get everything off. Yoongi picked up one of his half burnt blunt and took a deep breath in, smoke billowing out of his mouth. Earlier he'd had this big smoke fest and you could've swore you were contact high at some point.

At this point you were fully naked and were just watching Yoongi slowly take off his shirt and jeans, only leaving himself in a pair of Calvin Kelin boxers, showing his dick imprint. He raised his hand motioning you over, and you did, almost in a trance as he took another hit groaning into the blunt itself. He grabbed your hand pulling you down on the couch and kissed you, pushing smoke into your mouth. You choked and gagged on the secondhand smoke, the experience burning your throat raw. You jerked away coughing harshly, yet Yoongi smirked at you setting the blunt on a ashtray nearby.

“Fuck that hurt huh? I'm sorry baby…” Yoongi said half dazed. “Pull off my boxers baby, I need to feel you.” You stopped heaving to go for Yoongis boxers, collapsing on the floor in front of him. Your knees bruised on impact making you hiss, your fingers hooking onto the band and you slowly pulled them down. His tip was flushed red and pre leaked down his length. Yoongi looked back down at you, hand reaching out to let your head. “Suck it baby.”

“I-I’ve never done this before…”

“That's alright, I can teach you. Wouldn't you like that?”

“Mmm…”

“Kiss the tip.” You reached up and kissed the head of his cock slowly. Yoongi hissed and moaned out his grip on your hair tightened. “Like that, just like that…” The whole experience felt weird, this isn't something that you usually do, your mom for starters wouldn't like this. Yet here you were in front of your dream man and you couldn't feel anything but a harsh distinction from your normal self. Yoongi pulled your hair snapping you out the mindless set of kisses you gave him. “Hey, Hey not to much, now lick the underside, then take it into your mouth.”

“Yoongi, I don't know about this… My mom doesn't even know that I'm out right now.” Yoongis hands went to your cheeks lifting your head up and bringing his down.

“You want this don't you. Don't you want me?”

“I'm just saying-”

“Don't question this, don't question what's destiny baby.” Yoongi let you go grabbing the blunt again. He took a deep puff and blew it on the top of your head, afterwards leaning down and planting a small kiss to the top of your head. Your hands trembled as you took him by the base of his length and licked the underside of his cock. Yoongi groaned and you kept going licking up pre and swirling your tongue around his head. You took a break and came for air. Then you began to take him down your throat. You instantly gagged but Yoongi held your head down, and began to fuck your face feverishly.

You began to beat on his thighs, looking down and seeing bruises beginning to form. But he just kept groaning and fucking your face. “I'm about to cum! I'm gonna fill that fucking face.” And he did, cum shooting down your throat. You pulled off your mouth having a weird cloud like feeling to it. The slime coated your tongue and you tried to scrape the feeling with your teeth. But Yoongi gave you no time to recuperate as he pulls you up by your underarms. He sat you next to him on the couch. His hand sat on your thigh and he leaned over to sit his head on your thighs. Moving your thighs and moved your body to be fully on the couch. He pulled your thighs apart and kissed on them feverishly.

“If I got to cum you gotta cum too baby… I want you to be just as happy as me. Plus I just love eating pussy.” He then dug his face in-between your thighs, kissing and sucking at your bud. You gasped out and bit down on your forearm, trying to keep quiet. But Yoongi looked up and grabbed at you, pulling the arm away. “Make all the noise you want, show me how good I make you feel.” He got back to work and groaned into your cunt. You could feel his tongue prod at your hole, beginning to tongue fuck you. His hands came to rub at your bud pushing you close to your release.

“Yoongi! I'm… I'm gonna-”

“Do it, do it for me.” Yoongi ordered sitting up to look deep into your eyes, his hand pressing down on your mound. You followed close in release, cumming all over his hand. Yoongi brought his hand to his mouth licking at your juices. “Fuck that tastes good.” Yoongi leaned down kissing you again and you looked past his head and saw the clock. It was damn near 2 in the morning. Your mom would definitely realize that you were gone but now.

“I have to get home, probably already knows I snuck out.” By reaching for your phone and looking at all the missed calls and texts from your mother.

Mom: Where are you honey?

Mom: Are you somewhere the house?

Mom: I know you snuck out, you left a damn crack in that window.

Mom: Pick up. The phone.

Mom: I'm not in the mood to play with you.

You freaked out even more slipping on your bra and dropping your phone. “I even smell like sex! I'm-” Tears welled up in your eyes. “She's going to kill me! I don't want to- want to-” You could barely finish your sentence.

“You don't have to go.”

“What… what are you even-”

“You can stay with me, think about it. Free of worries. Hanging with a Rock Star… Don't you want that? You've been wanting that. You told me, you want freedom.” Yoongi only slipped on his boxers and a robe he has strewn out in the room. He made his way over to your worried form. His hands massaged at your shoulders, head falling onto your shoulder. “I have everything ready, I just need your say so.”

He kissed your cheek and and his hands felt at your hips. “Really? You'd do that for me?”

“Really… baby I love you so much all I want is to live with you. Breathe in you. I want you so bad I want to die with you.” Yoongi whispered into your ear. “All that time you spent talking to me I've only fallen further and further in love with you.” He smiled continuing to kiss at your neck.

“I… I guess.”

“Then stop worrying baby, I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you.” Yoongi smiled at you popping off your bra once more. He reached around and gave you his jacket, motioning for you to get back on the couch. In which you did, the stress immediately coming off your back.

Maybe all you had to do was let him take the wheel for once.

🎸

At the airport you stood with Yoongi waiting for his private flight. He kept you close, hand around your waist every once and a while kissing the top of your head.

Yoongi couldn't be more happier. This was such a blissful peace. But his phone rang in his pocket disrupting that peace. “Yes?”

“It's been done boss, no trace of her or her mother.”

“Both are gone, never to be traced again?”

“Yes sir.”

“Thanks knew I could trust you guys.” Yoongi hung up tending back to you.

“Who was that?” You asked.

“Nothing you gotta worry that sweet little head about. Now come on we're going to be late for our flight.”

[egcdeath]

someone in the crowd

pairing: joel miller x popstar!reader

summary: you and joel found your start as local musicians thirteen years ago, but ultimately drifted apart. after seeing him again, the two of you embark on a night of questionable decisions. 

word count: 10k

warnings: ANGST. angst, angst, angst, alternate universe: no outbreak, an emotional rollercoaster, a bit of fluff, right person/wrong time, no use of y/n, cursing, alcohol consumption, kinda emotional infidelity but kinda not, mentions of cheating, mentions of heated situations, everyone makes questionable decisions, a surprise guest ;)

author’s note: this fic has been my baby for the past few weeks. i really really hope you enjoy reading it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it because it’s probably something that i’m most proud of writing in a really long time :))

— — — —

Your heart pounded brutally against your ribcage and perspiration slowly began to form along your hairline the same way it always seemed to do before any of your shows. While you still found yourself anxious in anticipation of performing in front of an audience, your nerves now were far better now than they were thirteen years ago, when you had to find a shot of something strong to soothe your racing mind before going onto the stage of a dingy bar, then dispersing your leftover adrenaline by making out with your partner in the alley of the bar where you’d just sung your heart out. 

But your nerves weren’t the only thing that had changed since then. In the time that had passed since you first began your artistic pursuit, you’d gone from open mics at bars where you reluctantly sang covers of whatever was popular on the radio to performing your own original work to sold-out arenas. While your career had changed drastically within the past thirteen years, your love life had also shifted significantly, as  you’d finally managed to settle down after what felt like a lifetime of fleeting encounters with a man you’d met at one of your earlier shows. 

Tonight, the many aspects of your growth seemed to come to an intersection: performing in your hometown of Austin, in a sold-out arena full of fans anxious and eager to hear you perform live. Amidst the sea of strangers and devoted fans, your husband and daughter had flown out to watch you perform as well. Despite the nerves that being in front of a crowd brought to you, the knowledge that your family would be right there, cheering you on brought you a profound sense of comfort. The idea of curling up on the couch in a fancier-than-usual hotel between your husband and daughter after a night of giving your all to perform sounded particularly appealing, especially with the exhaustion of being halfway through your tour beginning to set in. 

As you stood in the wings, your stage manager straightened up your outfit and dabbed away a bead of sweat on your face before giving you a friendly smile. She wished you luck as she adjusted your earpiece, the decrescendo of your opening act encouraging the crowd to scream out in anticipation of your show. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as your lungs expanded, and felt the vibrations from the cheers of the exhilarated crowd. 

You began your show as you always did, your nerves dissolving into pure adrenaline as the screaming crowd gave you all the encouragement and confidence you needed to find your footing, and more importantly–to have fun. You sang and danced hard, putting on an extra show as you knew the hoops your family had to jump through to specifically come out to see you. It was far easier to give it your all knowing that the people you loved most and hadn’t seen in months were there standing in the crowd, grinning at your every move. You just hoped that you’d be able to see them in the sea of faces below you and with the harsh strobe lights beaming above you. 

Unsatisfied with being almost halfway through your set and still not being able to identify the people you were specifically looking for, you took the opportunity to sit by the edge of the stage while performing a slower, acoustic song. Sure, it wasn’t the safest, and your security often recommended against it, but it was always a hit for your fans, and always a good opportunity to scope out the crowd. 

As you began to play the first few notes of a song that you’d written nearly a decade ago, but was always a fan favorite, your eyes floated across the crowd. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, you finally spotted your husband, your daughter on his shoulders as the two of them grinned adoringly at you. You couldn’t help but smile, your chest filling with warmth at just the mere sight of the people you loved, but hadn’t seen in such a long time. At just one glance, you were ready to toss the guitar down and throw the whole tour away, just to spend the rest of your life with your family.  

But that wasn’t the only face you noticed that caught you off guard as you sang. Like your eyes were magnetically drawn to him, your eyes fell on a familiar, yet slightly older face. At first, you didn’t believe it–but you knew you would know that face anywhere, regardless of how much time had passed. It wasn’t hard to recognize the same soft, yet sad eyes, scruffy beard–albeit a bit grayer—and angular nose that looked back at you, paired with a teenager by his side singing along to your every word. Locking eyes with him in that moment instantly sent a flood of emotions over you. Your mind temporarily blanked from the lyrics you should’ve been singing—your mind suddenly filled with Joel Miller. 

Joel Miller who you’d met at a bar over a decade ago. Joel Miller who sang covers of Neil Young and swayed along to whatever songs you’d sang that night before singing your praises into the shell of your ear. Joel Miller who you’d fallen in love with in record time—who you spent hours with talking in diners until the sun rose, and walking around the city showing each other your favorite spots and daydreaming about what it might be like when you two grew old and successful together. Joel Miller who broke your heart for the first time when he broke the news to you that he was becoming a father. Joel Miller who kickstarted your career by giving you a fresh, new set of emotions to draw on when writing and producing your first album. Joel Miller who you hadn’t seen or thought of in over thirteen years, except for the fleeting ‘what-ifs’ that occasionally plagued your mind as you fell asleep at night. 

You stuttered as your brain caught back up with the performance at hand. You were still slightly reeling from the dichotomy of seeing your own husband and daughter, to your former lover and his own kin, the weight of it all throwing you off just the slightest bit for the rest of the night. 

— — — —

This was wrong. You should’ve been in your hotel room, lounging in a soft robe and eating overpriced room service with your family while watching a stupid movie—just like you’d been planning to do since your husband had told you that he and your daughter were coming to visit. They had flown out specifically to see you from halfway across the country, and yet, here you sat picking at the peeling booth of a diner you’d spent many late nights in a whole lifetime ago with your mind scattered–yet on anything but your family. 

The staff was all different now, except for an older woman working the register who had worked there before you learned of the diner and would likely work there long after you forgot about it. The hideously checkered floor—one that you’d made fun of with your former companion on many occasions—had a few more cracks in it than you remembered, but other than that, the building felt much like a time capsule. Down to the untouched menu, it was all perfectly preserved in time. It was hard not to think about the many late nights you’d had there, talking, drinking shitty, stale coffee and splitting a plate of overly sweet pancakes until the sun rose to celebrate a successful tiny gig with Joel. 

So many of your memories in the city were tied to the man, and yet every other time that you’d returned to Austin, you hadn’t ever felt like this. It was a consistent stop on all of your tours, regardless of how far and wide you were traveling. At first, part of you had always hoped that you would see Joel again, especially in the first few years after he’d left you to go raise his child. You’d lost hope of ever reconnecting with the man quite soon after, only to find a light in the tunnel with a new love of your own. 

Things had obviously changed since then—with you moving on and falling in love with someone else, even having a child with him. Yet, part of you still fondly reminisced on those younger days when you were so naïve and hopeful for the future. Where in all versions of your future, you were spending your life with Joel—before it all came crashing down with the shocking confession that he was just weeks away from bringing a child into the world. 

Despite each visit to the city making you feel further and further removed from your past, the diner where you sat, paired with the haunting picture of Joel with his daughter at your show tonight made you take a rather long stroll down memory lane–a street that felt entrenched with memories and emotions of the past.

You nibbled on cold fries as you lost yourself in thought. You really should head back to your hotel now. Your husband was probably tired of waiting for you, your daughter likely fast asleep by now, and this whole trip down memory lane had been nothing short of juvenile—an unrealistic fantasy that you shouldn’t even have been entertaining. You flagged down your waitress for the bill and left her a hefty tip, fully prepared to get up and close this chapter of your life for good.

As you gathered your bearings and began to scoot out of the booth, your eyes stopped on a familiar, yet aged, face for the second time that night. For a moment, your face fell as you were overcome with every emotion you had been fighting off for the last few hours—hell, the emotions you had been fighting off for the past thirteen years.

His eyes had that same sad look in them that you remembered from the last time you saw him– the night he told you he was going to be a father. His eyes had that same sad look that yours had now, filled with thirteen years of festered hurt and guilt from the knowledge that you should’ve moved on by now. The knowledge that you did move on, but still had your resolve break with one simple look at the man. 

“Oh-“ you exclaimed, not really knowing what to do or what to say. There wasn’t exactly a playbook for talking to your first love and first real heartbreak over a decade later. In fact, you weren’t even sure that he had any interest in interacting with you. 

“Uh,” Joel began with a stutter, clearly just as frazzled as you. You immediately began to feel dread grow in the pit of your stomach, the deer-in-headlights look in his eyes making you fear that he wanted nothing to do with you. 

“Hey,” you greeted, not quite sure how to approach the situation. Part of you wanted to run away; to get up and leave as you planned, effectively leaving behind your history with Joel in that diner booth. But the bigger part of you–surely ruled by your heart rather than your brain–wanted to stay. Invite Joel to sit with you, talk about life and all that you two had missed in the last decade until the sun rose and pulled you away from your reverie. 

“Long time, no see,” Joel commented, the startled look on his face not even leaving for a moment. You wondered if he was going through a similar internal conflict as you, torn in half by his head and his heart. You wondered which one he would listen to. You wondered which one you’d listen to.   

“Yeah, I guess it has been a while,” you agreed, the sensible side of you pushing you to make dry, awkward small talk, as if the two of you weren’t entrenched in an extensive history. For a moment, the logical side of you seemed like it might win. The night was still young, and you’d already had the chance to at least say hello to Joel. That had to be enough closure for you. Now, you could go home, curl up next to your daughter and husband, and make up for the time you’d lost with them while being on tour.

But things were never that simple, were they? Not with Joel, at least. 

“Do you want to sit? Catch up?” you offered, words a bit rushed together as if if you didn’t say it quickly, you would lose your opportunity altogether. Between not knowing what Joel’s response would be, and the war waging on between your heart and your head, you knew that you couldn’t take the moment of boldness for granted. As much as it would make sense for you to get up and move on, you weren’t sure that you could handle yet another what-if hanging over you for the next however long. Your family would still be in that hotel room when you got back, but you might never get another chance to see Joel again. 

“Sure, I guess. Do you want me to sit?” Joel asked, the cautious and slightly uncomfortable smile on his face and tense itching of his neck letting you know that he was open to sitting with you, but still felt a bit off. You supposed you felt similarly, the gray area of wanting to give into your heart, who was begging and urging you to see the man once more, and your brain that was screaming at you to be smart. To remember that you had a happy family and successful career waiting for you back at home. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want you to. Do you want to sit? Because you don’t have to if it’s gonna make things weird,” you attempted to reason, not sure if you were more so giving yourself or the man across from you an out. 

“I think I already made things weird,” Joel commented as he slid into the booth across from you, rubbing his hands on the front of his jeans as he did so. “As long as ‘weird’ doesn’t get me detained by your security detail.”

Joel’s joke didn’t quite land; a comment that felt like being woken up from a deep sleep by a freezing bucket of ice water. A reminder of just how far you’d drifted—the fact that it truly had been years since the two of you had been together, and in that time, your lives had gone down two very different routes. 

You couldn’t even force yourself to let out a stifled laugh. You just gave Joel a sad, pressed smile. One that obviously wasn’t real, and one that he easily saw through. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his big, brown eyes expressive as always. Such a loaded word coming from the man you’d loved a lifetime ago, before things ended so abruptly. Somehow you understood that his apology was for more than just making a joke that was in slightly poor taste. Those two words almost felt like a lifetime of built up emotion, words that you’d desperately been waiting to hear since you had been told that Joel was bringing a baby into the world. 

You shook your head, not even being able to find the words to respond to something you found to be so heavy. Instead, you much rather prefer to move on from the topic at hand. “It’s fine,” you dismissed, a fake smile finding itself on your lips. 

“I can’t believe we both had the same idea,” you chuckled awkwardly, trying your best to change the subject and loosen the thick tension that had fallen over the two of you. The sooner you finished catching up with Joel, the sooner you could give your head and your heart closure. This was for the best, right? Besides, with how awkward this conversation was shaping out to be, you were sure that you would never wonder how things might’ve worked out with you two again. 

“Yeah. They did always have good coffee here,” Joel teased, looking to you for some sort of affirmation which was granted once you laughed aloud—maybe a little harder than what was warranted. But that was just how things always were with Joel. Even after all he put you through, and after all those years apart, he still made your heart swell in a way that everything just felt better. You forgot that when you were together jokes were funnier, music was more beautiful, and you were just… happier. It had been a while since you’d felt like the person you were when you were around him.

“You are such a liar,” you laughed out, feeling just the slightest bit more relaxed as the two of you fell into a familiar, almost comforting rhythm. You could’ve sworn that you’d had this very conversation with him a number of times before. “You know that pot has been sitting there untouched for hours.”

“Just how I like it,” he commented before gesturing for a waitress and ordering himself a mug of said old coffee. You couldn’t help but grin as you shook your head and rolled your eyes at him. After all these years, he still was the same little shit you always remembered him being. After all these years, and the different ways your lives ended up being, he was still Joel, and you were still you, and after one short interaction, you were beginning to wonder if you were still in love with him in the way that you had been all those years ago.

“Well, what’s new with you?” you asked as the waitress dropped off his mug of lukewarm coffee. This was safe, pleasant small talk. Nothing meaningful or weird, just two friends catching up. 

“Where do you want me to start?” Joel asked with a raised brow. You had no way to be completely sure, but it seemed as if he was beginning to feel a bit more comfortable in the way that you also were. 

“Wherever you see fit. I need to know what I missed out on after I left,” you leaned forward the slightest bit, attempting to push down the thoughts and emotions that were beginning to bubble in you just below the surface. 

“Always so nosy,” he chuckled, taking a hearty sip from his mug. “Let’s see. Where did we leave off?”

“Uh, here, actually, I think. You just finished playing at The Lounge, we came over here, you told me you had to tell me something, and I swore you were gonna ask me to move in or something. You were really nervous,” you paused to laugh a humorless laugh, not because it was funny, but because you were impressed by just how naïve you’d been. “We sat down, ordered pancakes to split like usual, and you told me you got someone pregnant, and that the baby was being born soon. I couldn’t fucking believe you, so I asked you some questions before I left. I think maybe that’s where we left off.”

Almost immediately you regretted the words pouring out of your mouth. You guessed you hadn’t realized just how hurt you still were from what Joel had done to you years ago, but you especially hadn’t realized how hard it would be to hold back once you started. 

“Good memory,” he replied, looking down into his mug to avoid eye contact with you. You shrugged nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t rerun that night in your mind thousands of times, and as if it wasn’t painfully obvious in your recap. Maybe it was petty to bring up something that you both clearly regretted, but you had a feeling that it was going to exit your system eventually. You hadn’t exactly taken the breakup well, and you had been discovered by a label so quickly that you never had the chance to go back and hash things out with Joel. 

“Please don’t like, feel bad,” you immediately tried to correct, noticing the hurt written across the man in the booth’s face—whatever brief satisfaction you gained by airing out your qualms with him was immediately replaced with regret. “I’m fucking with you, Joel,” you lied, hoping to preserve his feelings. This clearly wasn’t something he was proud of, and it was wrong to throw the mistakes he’d made back into his face, especially when he didn’t exactly deserve it. “It was just a shitty joke. I’m sorry.”

“We’re just on a roll tonight with bad jokes, I guess,” he seemed to sigh, despite the humorous front he was attempting to put on. “You don’t still hate me, right?” His question felt genuine and remorseful, and for a second, you felt a pang in your gut for ever making someone you loved feel like you hated them.

“Of course not,” against your better judgment, you reached across the table and set your hand on top of his. “I never hated you. Really. I mean, you hurt me pretty badly, but I don’t even think I have it in me to hate you. Trust me, I tried.”

The two of you shared yet another slightly awkward laugh, one that broke the tension between you, but also was thinly veiled with the sadness and remorse of your past. Bringing your hand back to your own lap, you rubbed your now slightly clammy palms on your pants. 

“Can we just start over? I don’t want things between us to be…like this… forever,” Joel explained, a sheepish look on his face.

“Like what?” you asked, having an idea, but still genuinely curious to see what the man across from you thought was going on. 

“Like we’re dancing on eggshells, or something. I miss when everything we would say wasn’t followed by ten seconds of awkward silence and an apology.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, before scoffing and shaking your head. “I mean- I didn’t mean to do what you just said you didn’t want us to do. It’s just hard to be normal when… you know, we happened.”

“I get it,” Joel agreed. “What if we just… I don’t know… Pretend? That things between us were fine for the night? Just old friends reuniting after a long time?”

“Sure,” the deal sounded like the perfect way to stay mostly detached, while still giving yourself the opportunity to reconnect with Joel. A compromise that allowed your logical and emotional side to win. Reunite with Joel, but not cross any boundaries, just like old friends did.  “Friends,” you agreed. 

“So ‘friend’ I cut you off earlier. What’s new with you?” you asked. 

Joel smiled as you spoke, seemingly happy with the agreement you'd settled on—to be civil as friends. “Well, I had a daughter, Sarah. She’s thirteen now, and she’s genuinely the light of my life. I’ve got a lot of regrets, and she’s not one of ‘em. Other than that, not much has changed. We moved into a new house. Expanded the contracting business a bit. That’s pretty much it.”

“And how’s Sarah’s mom?” you asked curiously, anxious to know if Joel had moved on with his life in the way that you’d forced yourself to. But then again, the two of yourselves found yourselves in a diner that held so many memories of you two, and that had to mean something. 

The man across from you shook his head as he seemed to recall the events that must’ve transpired between them. “We tried to make things work for years, but it just wasn’t the same. There wasn’t any real love between us. Not like-“ he cut himself off before saying anything more, but the knowledge of exactly where he was going felt like a quick dagger to your chest. You tried to ignore the way your breath briefly hitched at the information. “We got married after Sarah was born, and divorced a few years later. I only see her on holidays or to drop Sarah off on her weeks.”

It almost gave you a sense of perverse satisfaction that things never worked out with the mother of Joel’s child. Knowing that you’d been pushed to the sidelines, only for things to work out with her. To know that Joel still got some sort of karmic retribution for what he put you through. You wondered if Joel curled up at night and thought of how he could’ve done things differently, and for some reason, that image of a desperate, pathetic, and remorseful Joel brought you an inkling of contentment. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you said simply, knowing damn well that even after all of these years, you were pleased that the pain Joel had inflicted on you had come back to him. 

Or maybe—a voice in your head began—you were pleased that Joel likely still thought about you. Wished he’d done things different with you. Prayed every night that he’d just get to have another shot with you, a chance to make things right. Of course you were pleased. Clearly you were just as not-over Joel as he was not-over you. 

But were you really not over Joel? Sure, he passed your mind from time to time, but it wasn’t like you were actively unhappy with your relationship and family. You were finding yourself to be more and more conflicted with every second you spent in this booth with the man. 

“It’s fine. That’s life,” he flashed you a smile that fell flat and almost felt more like a frown. “But what about you, Ms. Superstar?”

“Oh,” you chuckled stiffly, “It’s not really like that. But uh, I got a pretty great record deal right as everything went down with us, got to record some music and I guess people listened to it. The rest of that is history, I think. I met my husband through a mutual friend on my first tour—well, I guess someone else’s tour. I was just opening. But we had a daughter a few years ago. She’s pretty great too,” you shrugged. 

Talking about your family brought on a bout of profound guilt, one you worried would stay with you for a long time. You really shouldn’t be here, indulging yourself with fantasies of Joel. Not when the father of your child was just an Uber ride away, and waiting patiently to see your face again.

“That’s all great. So I assume things are going well with you?” Joel asked, a general presumption about everything you’d just told the man. Yet somehow, it almost felt like he was curious about your love life, the same way you had been moments before. The truth was that your love life was great. Sometimes almost too great, making that anxious part of you wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. Part of you was beginning to worry that staying here too long was going to end up the catalyst that led the other shoe to drop. 

“They are. Really good,” you smiled politely, despite feeling a bit off. “Hey, I’m sorry to cut things short, but I think maybe I should get going,” you suggested, the guilt that had been quietly eating away at you all night finally beginning to rise to the surface. You pulled your wallet out and began to dig around for enough cash to cover Joel’s coffee, but were pulled away when Joel exclaimed something above you.

“No!” Joel yelped out almost involuntarily, “No,” he repeated, this time a little quieter and a little more level headed. You were surprised by the enthusiasm, but slightly intrigued. Given his little outburst, you peered at him curiously, raising a brow before he spoke once more. 

“I just think we still have a lot to catch up on. I mean, definitely leave if you want to. I’m not gonna stop you, but when is the next time we’ll get a chance to talk like this again? I don’t… I want to hear everything. Not just the sparknotes version. I guess if I wanted that, I could go on Wikipedia or something.”

“You’ve looked me up on Wikipedia?” You laughed, as if that were your only takeaway from what he’d just said. Guilt be damned, if Joel felt like he needed to talk to you so badly, maybe you needed to listen. If you left him now, you’d be wondering forever about what he wanted to talk to you about. 

“Obviously not,” he scoffed, although you saw right through it. “That’s not the point, though.”

“You’re right,” you agreed. “Fine. I’ll stay with you, but we need to do something else. This booth is starting to hurt my legs,” you kicked your legs out forward, accidentally brushing against Joel’s knee. “How about a walk?”

“That sounds perfect.”

— — — —

The walk was something that sounded much better in theory than it actually was in practice. Just a few minutes after stepping outside of the diner, and you’d already had a fan spot you and ask for a picture–an awkward predicament for Joel, who had somehow become the photographer of the night. The awkwardness of your little photoshoot had somehow found itself replicated into your conversation, where a heavy, awkward silence had put a roadblock in the flow of your conversation.

“So…” you trailed off, unsure of where to even start with Joel, especially after the loaded conversation you’d had just minutes prior. 

“So,” he mimicked right back to you, similarly unsure of where to begin with you. 

“Did your daughter drag you out to my show or vice versa?” you asked, toeing the line between joking and curiosity. Part of you wondered–or maybe even hoped–that you still came to mind every now and then in that same way that he still occasionally popped up on yours. 

Joel chuckled to himself, looking away from you as your eyes curiously bore into him. “I didn’t realize you could actually see faces up there with all those fancy bright lights in your eyes and such. But Sarah’s been a big fan for years now.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised,” you chuckled stiffly, trying to fight the slight disappointment of the letdown that maybe Joel had never attempted to listen to you again, despite music being something that the two of you connected so strongly over. “She ever force you to listen to anything?”

“Force me?” Joel asked, glancing over at you. “I don’t know if I would say that, considering I introduced her to your music in the first place.”

“You’re kidding,” you laughed out in disbelief, and maybe even a bit of delight. Maybe he had been thinking about your music even after all this time. You wondered if he’d ever listened to your older songs, the ones clearly inspired by him and the feelings he’d put you through, and thought about how things might be different if you two were different. 

“Serious as a heart attack,” Joel said, almost proudly. If you were being completely honest, it made you feel a little proud too. Joel had truly watched you find success, and it almost seemed like he'd been supporting you the whole way–from shitty local gigs to sold-out arenas. 

“And she liked it?” you asked, although the fact that she had come out to your concert in the first place seemed to answer that very question.

Joel shrugged, but the smile on his face and raise of his brows told you everything you needed to know. “She did try to get a spot as close to you as possible.”

“Does she know? That you and I…?”

“Were a thing back in the day? Nope. Maybe I’ll tell her when she’s a little older. But when that day comes, I need to know, did you ever write any songs about me?” Joel asked, looking at you mischievously, as if he already anticipated the answer. “So I can let her know which songs she should take off her playlist, of course.”

“What do you think?” you shot back, deadpan, a bit embarrassed to be confronted with the person who had inspired so much of your work asking if he had inspired any of your work. “Okay,” you stopped him before he could answer, hoping to spare yourself just a bit of embarrassment. “I don’t write my own music,” you lied.

“Don’t lie to me. I still have lyrics that just happened to end up in a song on a cocktail napkin.”

“You kept that?” you asked, laughing as you looked at Joel. 

“Is that stupid?”

“No, I just… you could probably auction that off on eBay or something.”

“I’ll remember that next time money gets tight,” Joel teased. “But really. It’s a nice reminder of the old days.”

After a long period of silence, Joel finally looked to you as he popped a question. “Do you ever think about how things might’ve been if…?” 

He didn’t need to finish the question for you to know where he was going. 

“No,” you lied swiftly, thinking of your husband and child back in your hotel room, probably watching a movie as they waited for you to come back, or playing one of your daughter’s new favorite games. For a second, you thought about what it might be like if it were Joel and Sarah sitting in that room. But you and Joel were just friends for the night, and friends didn’t fantasize about how things might’ve been different if you took things a step further. 

“Never?” Joel asked, clearly not believing you. 

“Joel,” you sighed exasperatedly. “I’m married,” you attempted to shut down the conversation with a flimsy argument, but by the look he was giving you, you knew that not even he believed that you believed what you were saying. “Fine. When you left me, I thought about it a lot. You’d promised me so much. We were supposed to travel the world on a sold out tour together. Record albums together,” you lamented almost involuntarily. What came out of your mouth almost felt like a desperate plea, “Do you even remember?”

“How could I forget?” Joel replied quickly, almost sentimentally. You couldn’t be sure if he meant it like that, or if that part of you who reminisced on all of the ways that things could have been different were projecting onto him. 

“We were so stupid,” you muttered, kicking a pebble that appeared by your foot. You felt even more stupid in the moment, trying to connect with a lost love when you had someone you currently loved waiting back home for you. You covered your face in shame hands over your eyes as if not being able to see would be able to absolve you of your negative feelings. 

“We were kids,” Joel corrected, not appreciating the way you degraded your past selves, “and you did record albums. You got to travel the world with shows sold out on your own. That’s infinitely more impressive than whatever I ended up doing.”

“Raising a whole human being is pretty damn impressive,” you argued. “And a well adjusted one, at that.”

Joel scoffed at you, looking over at you in disbelief. When he noticed that your hands were covering your face, he gently nudged it away so that you would look at him. It was almost embarrassing how the most simple, brief touch still sent sparks down your spine and brought you back to when you were an unsure twenty-something, needing a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder from Joel, or getting your ass squeezed tenderly in a makeout session far too heated for the back of a bar.

“You’re doing both,” he argued. 

You laughed aloud, “Barely. I’m barely home long enough to see her. It’s my husband doing all the heavy lifting when it comes to raising her. I just FaceTime her every now and then,” you sighed. “I missed her first steps. Her first tooth growing in and her first tooth coming out. First day of school. All of these firsts I missed by being on the road, that I’m never gonna have the chance to redo again. It sucks, because I love what I’m doing, but I don’t love not getting the full experience of motherhood. It almost makes me wonder,” you cut yourself off, but had a feeling Joel already knew where you were going with that thought.

“I bet you’re doing better than you think you are. I mean, what kid can say that they grew up with their mother being an international star? All my daughter can say is that her dad was a failed local musician.”

“You need to give yourself more credit, Joel,” you gently punched him in the arm. “You’ve always been more talented than me. If you didn’t retire so early, you’d probably be bigger than me.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that,” he explained, genuinely seeming to believe that he wasn’t in the same league as you when it came to talent. “Besides, you’ve always been the more palatable artist of the two of us.”

“You’re plenty palatable. Back in the day, you had that group of middle aged men who showed up every Saturday night at Bitter Pint just to hear your covers of Steely Dan songs? They loved you.”

“They were only there to avoid their families and get drunk every week, and you know it,” Joel squinted, raising a brow at you skeptically.

“But your 70’s dad rock was always a plus for them. Why else would they come to that same bar?” you smirked, feeling as if you’d gotten him with that answer. You truly felt like he deserved to know just how talented he really was. 

“Fair point,” Joel finally conceded, a smile creeping up onto his face as he thought about some of the more fond memories from your shared past. 

“You can’t rewrite history with me, Joel. I was there, remember? I could probably tell you the name of all the regulars and their opinions on us.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you prove it. Remember Jessica Simmons?” Joel challenged you, as if your memories from that time of your life could have ever faded.

“Oh my god,” you laughed as you began to recall, “as if I could ever forget her. She had the biggest crush on you ever, to the point where it got kinda embarrassing. She thought you were so hot, and so talented, and the amount of times I had to hear her slur, ‘Ohmygod he’s so sexy and he’s sooooo good at guitar’ to her friends was frankly a little ridiculous. She also hated me.”

“Despised you,” Joel corroborated, laughing as he did so. “I remember, you thought you had this genius scheme of getting her to walk in on us in some nefarious position.” 

“Don’t act like it wasn’t genius. She never bothered me again after seeing us in that bathroom.”

“She also screamed like she was being axe murdered until we all got kicked out,” Joel added, making the two of you burst out in laughter.

“Ah,” you finally gasped out once you finished catching your breath, nearly keeled over from the pain of such hard laughter in your stomach. “I wonder what she’s up to these days.”

“Definitely not coming to your shows, I can tell you that much,” Joel teased.

“Woah, what happened to me being palatable?” you teased right back.

“I mean, not everyone has the same palate,” Joel explained, sending you right back into a fit of laughter.

“Do you still play?” you asked out of the blue once your laughter had subsided and a comfortable silence filled up the air.

“Eh, not really since Sare was born. It’s hard to be a single, working dad and still have time to do things like that.”

“Even now that she’s a little older?” you asked, trying not to hold on too much to the fact that Joel was still single. He may have been off the market, but you were very much not. 

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’. “I play for her sometimes. Some of her friends when they beg me to during sleepovers. But other than that, I’m really rusty. I’d be booed if I ever dared to play in public again.”

“Are you kidding?” you asked, not really believing it at all. Joel had always been extremely talented, which was part of what drew you to him in the first place. You were sure some things had changed or faded with time, but you had a hard time believing that his talent was one of them.

“No?” Joel said, sounding a bit confused. Despite the confidence he had when it came to performing, he never seemed to have that same confidence when it came to actually believing in his ability.

“Oh my god, Joel. You know what we should do?” The idea struck you by surprise, and it probably wasn’t the greatest idea in the entire scheme of things, but you’d already pushed down your guilt and inhibitions so far that night, that you couldn’t even stop yourself from suggesting what you were about to suggest.

“Absolutely not,” he said, already sensing where you were going with that train of thought.

“Oh, c’mon. Let’s just go back to the bar. They’ve been open since the dawn of time, so it’s not like they’ve been shut down. They probably still do open mics too. You can go up there and sing!”

“No way,” he immediately shut you down. 

“Yes way. I bet you’re not rusty as you think, and you’ll see just how much fun you’re missing out on.” You remembered just how much Joel liked being on stage, just how comfortable he was and truly how good he was. His performances always felt effortless, and you always genuinely admired both his stage presence and aptitude for singing. 

“I don’t...” Joel began to trail off, genuinely sounding quite unsure about himself. He’d always been a bit less confident than you when it came to believing the praise and affirmation that he was, indeed, good at what he did.

“Please? I’m only gonna be in town for one night,” you attempted to bargain, despite you having a little more time than you told him about. The truth was more like you were giving yourself one night with Joel. Just one before you went back to the real world, and had a chance to think of the implications of what you’d been doing. “Just think about how much fun you used to have. How much you used to love it?”

“I don’t know,” Joel groaned. “I don’t know if I loved playing as much as I loved the company.”

“That is a bold faced lie,” you scoffed. “I see right through you, Joel Miller. C’mon. Let’s go.”

Reluctantly, he agreed once more, still, to this day, not being able to tell you no. Like everything that seemed to surround Joel, that seemed to thrill and frighten you at the same time. 

— — — —

If you thought you needed to stop entertaining this idea of what-if while you were sitting alone in a booth, reminiscing on Joel, you certainly needed to stop entertaining whatever it was that was happening now. Yet somehow, being around the man made you act in ways that you never would have acted otherwise, which was how you ended up in that same bar where things began with the two of you, and taking shots of vodka like you were twenty-somethings once again.

“Hey, don’t forget why we’re here in the first place,” you reminded Joel, passing him a tumbler of whiskey that you’d just taken from a bartender. 

“And what would that be?” Joel asked, feigning ignorance as he brought the glass up to his lips. “Drinking?”

“Singing, you goof,” you nudged him, feeling far more loose after a night of breaking the tension and an hour of consuming liquid courage. 

“Oh, I don’t remember that being part of the deal,” Joel lied, the mischievous little smile on his face making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Liar,” you laughed. “C’mon. You told me you would sing, so you should go sing,” you suggested, now with a mischievous look of your own on your face. Was it so wrong to want to hear your former lover perform all these years later? You remembered how much Joel used to enjoy it—perhaps even more than you—yet he’d told you that he hadn’t done it in years. 

“Nooo,” Joel laughed, gently pushing you back. “Why don’t you go up there and sing? You’re the professional here.”

“Nuh-uh. I already performed once tonight. I don’t have another one in me,” you argued back. “Why don’t you show me you still got it?”

Joel sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, his exasperation only egging you on. 

“You didn’t really think you could bring me to the bar where we met, and not expect me to want to hear you sing,” you couldn’t help but smirk as you spoke to him. “Pleaseeee?” you begged making a poor attempt at puppy dog eyes and sticking your bottom lip out in a dramatic pout.

“Fine,” Joel finally conceded, downing the majority of his glass and passing it to you before pushing himself off of his barstool and looking to find the stage manager. 

You were rather satisfied for yourself, partially because you hadn’t thought about the real world in hours at this point, but mostly because you were getting a chance to see Joel perform after years of being estranged from him. As you ordered yourself a water, you were caught off guard by hearing the sound of Joel’s voice through a speaker, prompting you to turn around and look at the stage. 

Joel checked the microphone to see if it worked, tapping it twice before settling down in the seat in the middle of the stage before leaning forward slightly to speak into the mic.

“This is dedicated to my former partner in crime. If I’m a little rusty, feel free to dedicate all of your hate, anger, and rotten tomatoes towards her, as she forced me to come up here,” he pointed you out in the crowd and you shook your head to yourself, a smile sneaking up onto your face before you could even help it.

As Joel began to play the first few notes of his song, it became concerningly easy to get lost in a new fantasy. With the light shining on him as he sat on a little stool, his knee angled to support the instrument, and his raspy singing voice beginning to filter through your ears, it was difficult not to imagine how things might’ve turned out in a different world. 

A world where Joel had told you about his child as soon as he saw that pregnancy test, and a world where you decided to stay and work things out. A world where the two of you kept working together, eventually being discovered, and using each other to help boost your individual careers. A world where you would bring his infant daughter to his tour bus, and he’d bring Sarah to yours. Maybe after a while, you’d even go on tour together, your devoted fans in love with the love you two so obviously had for each other. A world where you two would take a break after your big breaks to expand your family even further. One where you two held hands in the audience of the Grammys while you received your first, and well earned awards.

A world where you still would’ve ended up in this very bar, celebrating years on the road together, and how far you’d managed to come from where you started. A family you adored and careers you were passionate about. You’d watch Joel on stage with watery eyes, heart full with the knowledge that you truly couldn’t have made it this far without the man performing in front of you. 

But this wasn’t that world. Joel had let you down one too many times in the course of your relationship–and no matter how good he made you feel temporarily, it didn’t negate the heartbreak he brought upon you. It didn’t change the fact that there had been someone else by your side through every milestone and important moment in your career. It didn’t change the fact that Joel wasn’t the one there to help you mend your heart after shattering it into pieces, and he certainly wasn’t there when you needed him in the same way that others in your life had been. The reality was harsh and brutal, but it was the truth. 

As you stood in the crowd with watery eyes, you concluded that it would never be that world—and that maybe that was for the best. 

Once Joel returned, you were nursing a new drink in your hands, trying to snap out of the whiplash that both your fantasy and reality had brought to you. By now, the glassy look on your eyes was gone, and you were feeling slightly better about the whole ordeal, but something felt undeniably off.

“Not too bad for being rusty,” you teased once Joel came back. It was far too easy to fall back into old patterns of endearment with him. 

Joel flushed, somewhere between flattery and the liquor catching up to him. “Thank you. I forgot how much I liked it up there. I think they really liked me!”

“So much for not being a crowd pleaser,” you winked, setting your drink back down on the bar. 

“Oh, stop it. I’m blushing,” the two of you laughed, and for a moment, you caught your reflection in the mirror. It suddenly became very surreal, seeing yourself in the same bar in the same place you’d been all these years ago, yet in a totally different position in life. For a second, you swore you saw a flash of your younger selves, warm cheeked as you teased each other after a performance. For a moment, you yearned to be back there once again. To do it all over, with the knowledge and experience that only years of life would’ve given you. What would you tell your younger self? That girl who could place the minute your entire world had fallen apart? Would you tell her that things got better? Or would you tell her that years later, you were still naively a fool for the man who broke your heart?  

“Well, you already got what you wanted from me. Now to get even, I’d like to request a dance,” Joel extended his arm out to you and you accepted it, lost in the moment as much as you were lost in your thoughts. In all honesty, it wasn’t exactly the best idea, but what was one more bad idea in a night full of them?

“Well, a dance is only fair,” you agreed.

The next artist who went on stage picked a slower song, one that you and Joel had danced to together a lifetime ago. The two of you slowly swayed, his arm draped around your neck and your arms wrapped around his hips, as if he were in danger of slipping away from you. 

“You know, I never loved anyone the way I loved you,” Joel all but mumbled seemingly out of the blue. The two of you swayed gently, the music in the background fading as you zeroed in on the feeling of Joel’s arms around your waist, and the familiar comfort and nostalgia it brought you. 

His confession felt like yet another bucket of cold water dumped on you, pulling you back to the real world for a moment, and making you realize that the gap between the two of you was slowly beginning to close. 

“Joel…” you cut him off, not sure if you could handle taking that information in. Not when you knew you had a life waiting for you back home, a man who put your broken pieces back together patiently waiting for you, ready to love you unconditionally.

“It’s not too late, you know,” he added with a whisper.

With his nose pressed against yours, you finally mustered up some self control, telling your heart no for what seemed like the first time that night despite the longing deep within your chest and the loosening of inhibitions given to you by the amount of alcohol you’d consumed. 

“It is,” you whispered right back, looking away and pulling yourself away. “I don’t love you anymore.”

The admission shocked even yourself, with the words seeming to tumble from your lips before you could stop them. As much as you wished it were a lie, you knew that the truth was in the statement somewhere—or else you wouldn’t have said it. That small part of your heart that still aches and yearned for Joel that had been lying dormant but was reawakened by a night of reunion vehemently disagreed with your statement, but the majority of your heart now belonged to someone else. One night with an ex couldn’t change that. 

“You don’t have to love me,” he practically pleaded with you, his eyes wet and twinkling under the soft lighting of the bar. “Just pretend with me tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Joel. I can’t do that.” The confession and your reaction seemed to sober you up quickly. Here Joel was, asking you to betray everything you knew over a few fleeting feelings and uncomfortable what-ifs. Your reaction was almost a visceral one, slipping out of Joel’s arms as you thought about your younger self. You’d probably be delighted by the proposition in the same way that Sarah’s mom was delighted by the proposition. But things were different this time. You had things to lose now. You loved your partner. You loved your daughter. That, you knew for sure. You couldn’t be any more sure that you loved Joel as much as you were sure that you loved the mystery that surrounded him. 

“Please,” he begged you, just wanting you to play along with him for just a little while longer. Maybe an hour ago, you would’ve indulged him one last time, but somehow, things suddenly felt infinitely different.

“No Joel,” you argued, beginning to pull away from his grip that was beginning to feel too suffocating. “Don’t you get it? This is the same attitude that landed us here in the first place. You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too. That’s not how the world works. That’s how you end up with an accidental pregnancy with someone you had a one night stand with while being in a relationship with someone else. I don’t mean to be rude or upset you, but we’re not twenty somethings anymore. We’re adults, and actions have consequences. I can’t let you tear my marriage apart because you regret how you did things last time.”

“But things aren’t the same this time,” he pathetically argued, frown lines deepening on his face.

“You’re right. They aren’t,” you agreed, not elaborating, but briskly wiping away a tear that had slipped down your face in the midst of your lecturing. “I think I should go.”

“Okay,” he agreed, not bothering to argue with you this time around. In your final look at Joel, you caught a stray tear roll down his face and watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallowed lump of emotions. 

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared out the backseat window of the cab you’d called, hoping to be able to hold back the array of emotions this night had brought upon you. Against your best attempts, a steady stream of tears burned your eyes and stained your face as you attempted to process all that had gone down. It should’ve been no surprise that your night with Joel ended up crashing and burning, but it didn’t change the fact that you just wanted to get back to your hotel room and pretend that everything was normal. You desperately craved to be held, a lifetime of exhaustion feeling like it was creeping up on you 

If it weren’t so pathetic, it would almost be ironic; at the beginning of the night, you’d set out to bring yourself peace and closure over a failed relationship and lost love, yet somehow, by the end of it you had somehow felt even more disgruntled.

Tipping your cab driver and wiping your face with your sleeve, you stepped out of the car, greeting the doorman at your hotel before trying to collect yourself once more in the elevator.

Finally feeling like you had made it back to Earth after years out in Space, you gently shut the hotel door behind you, doing your best not to wake up your daughter, as she was a light sleeper. You crept further into the room, discarding your clothes as you did so, and fighting away the gnawing guilty feeling growing in your stomach. You squatted by your suitcase, quickly throwing on a ratty old pajama shirt and loose shorts before stepping into the bathroom to splash your face with some cold water to really ground yourself. As you approached your bed, your heart warmed with the view presented in front of you. 

What you were looking at was nothing short of a picture of domestic bliss. Your daughter clung to your husband’s side, clearly having fallen asleep in bed with him at some point in the night. A children’s book was splayed over his chest, and reading glasses were still perched on his nose. You grabbed both of the items, setting them aside on the nightstand, and waking up your similarly light sleeper of a husband in the process. 

“Hi honey,” he muttered sleepily, turning his head slightly to give you a sleepy kiss as you held yourself above him. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, the simple peck he gave you paired with the domestic moment you almost felt like you were interrupting reminding you after everything tonight, that you really weren’t missing out on anything. “Missed you, Frankie,” you muttered quietly, doing your best not to stir your daughter as you found your place in bed next to the two of them. 

“Missed you more,” he replied, bringing a hand to your cheek to gently cup it. “What time is it?” he asked. 

“Late,” you replied simply, swallowing the guilt-flavored bile creeping up your throat. You’d wasted a whole night going down memory lane when your family had come out specifically to spend time with you after not seeing you for months. “‘m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We have the whole day tomorrow together. Get some sleep, okay?” he suggested, rubbing his free hand up and down your arm, as if he sensed something off in you. 

“Okay,” you agreed, trying to extinguish some of the awful feelings burning brightly through your mind. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he closed his dark eyes once more, and the sleepy, content smile on his face let you know that he meant it. Despite everything that had transpired that night, the room felt like a little slice of normalcy, leaving you to feel like the only thing that had changed. Frankie was quick to drift back off to sleep, leaving you to get comfortable in bed. You maneuvered yourself in a way that wasn’t exactly ideal for your already sore hips and back, but allowed you to cuddle your daughter, while also having some physical contact with your husband–both of which you desperately needed after such a whirlwind of a night. 

As you closed your eyes, your mind drifted off to a far away place. After an exhausting day of performing, and an even more draining night of reconnecting with your ex, being overcome with sleep felt like a welcome relief to all that you’d put your body through during the day. Warmth filled your body once more, a concoction of pleasant endorphins releasing in you as you could only really think about one thing. 

Joel. 

[undead-moth]

I would love to read more about the themes and tropes and storytelling tools you notice the writers making use of when writing sydcarmy. I just love thinking about this show and reading other people’s takes especially when it’s people who appreciate good writing and aren’t just disappointed their ship didn’t jump on each other the first chance they got.

Hi. Thank you for your ask. I think there are stories in which it narratively makes sense for two characters to get together right away, or to get together with little development - it all just depends on what the structure of the narrative is, and what the writer's intentions are, and ultimately what the relationship is being used to say - but it wouldn't have made sense narratively to canonize SydCarmy this season based on the narrative structure The Bear is using. This is true whether you're looking at it from an in-universe point of view, or from an out-of-universe point of view.

In-universe: Carmy has just gone through a devastating breakup at the exact same time he has opened a restaurant. The trauma he endured with the NYC head chef has been refreshed in full. He's also quit smoking. He not only has all the usual pressures of starting a new restaurant on his back, but he also already owes Cicero so much money. He is Syd's boss, and her idol, making their relationship somewhat unbalanced. I don't think someone in this situation in real life would be jumping into a new relationship with someone they work with every day.

Out-of-universe: The writers spent all of season 2 developing a romance between Carmy and Claire. This wasn't for no reason. If Carmy had shrugged off their breakup, not only would that have weakened the integrity of season 2, but if he had also gotten in a relationship with Syd right away, Carmy's relationship with Syd wouldn't have rung true. We would have a hard time believing that there's any real depth in his feelings for her, or any real meaning to their relationship, if he was able to get over Claire so quickly. Who's to say Syd isn't a rebound? Who's to say she'll be different?

His heartbreak also has a narrative purpose. Claire is a narrative foil to Syd. Claire represents Carmy's "dream girl," but she is not treated either by the narrative nor him as a person. She's more of an idea, and as a result, his love for her is based on a fantasy of her.

Carmy's heartbreak now is going to be useful for us to reference later when he is pursuing Syd. Based on the story structure, I believe he will face heartbreak with Syd before he enters a relationship with her, but regardless, we'll be able to compare how he looks at Syd to how he looked at Claire, and the difference will be stark when his heartbreak is for someone he sees and loves as a real person, and not as a fantasy. Without the ability to compare how Carmy is with Syd to how he was with Claire, it is more difficult to understand the significance of Carmy's love for Syd. That isn't to say there aren't ways - there are many - but I believe the way they chose was with Claire, and it's an extremely common way for writers to convey how a character feels for their intended love interest. First pair them with someone they think they want, and when that ends, pair them with the character they're actually intended for. Allow audiences to compare notes.

Anyway, I want to be able to offer you more, but I don't want to without rewatching the show. Only season 3 is fresh in my mind. I was already going to rewatch them anyway, and when I'm done, I'll add to this post and tag you.

Thanks again for asking.

[baejax-the-great]

Archive-locking the fics that YOU WROTE and are thus 100% yours to decide what to do with 'hurting people' is so silly tbh. Skill issue on their part. Wish those people could be normal about the amazing fics that writers like you put out & be understanding or at the very least respectful of the choices that writers make about how and where they make their fics available. Especially in light of recent ai training theft and nonsense & all that.

I hope this doesn't sour the fic writing & sharing experience for you too much. I love your writing & think you're very talented & skilled!

There seem to be dual attitudes I'm coming up against recently (and obviously these are not held by everyone, I don't even know that they are held by a majority, but they are certainly held by a plurality).

The first is that authors should be grateful that readers deign to read what they put out there. I think this stems from the "content creation" mentality and the idea that everyone who posts things wants as massive as an audience as possible (for monetization purposes which... isn't a thing in fanfic). I think this mindset also leads to readers demanding that people write specific tropes/pairings/whatever, or threatening basically to take their business elsewhere. "Nobody will read unless you do [X]." 1. Not true and 2. Okay, you weren't my audience.

(I also think authors circulating those posts about how badly they want comments/kudos feeds this mentality of readers doing authors a favor by even clicking on the fic. "Wow, if people are so desperate for attention, then mine must be worth an awful lot!")

Fanfic ain't a business, and I write for myself. Readers choosing to read my work isn't a privilege or an honor they are bestowing upon me (nor are comments for that matter), just as me posting my writing where they can see it isn't a privilege or an honor for them. We are both engaging in hobbies and a love of some media, and sometimes we will overlap and connect and sometimes we won't. Readers aren't reading out of altruism for attention-starved authors, and authors aren't writing out of altruism for content-hungry readers.

And there are those who will read these paragraphs above and think to themselves "wow, what an ungrateful author," and that's exactly the attitude I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, it's delightful and rewarding to receive comments on fics and chat with people about Blorbo and the Situations. But it should be delightful from both sides of the exchange, or why the hell are we doing this? If I'm meant to be grateful for every commenter who jumps into my inbox, then every commenter in my inbox better be grateful for me, and I can tell you right now there is a population who is not. There is a population who sees me as a service provider for their entertainment, and whatever form I take in their brain, it is not shaped like a full person.

This attitude also leads to people thinking that things like lorefm are no big deal. Don't I want to get my work in front of more eyeballs (or ears)? Don't I want to broaden my audience? And once I put my work out there for readers to see, should I be shocked (or express any negative emotions at all) when someone plagiarizes/scrapes it for AI/demands updates rudely/reads it on a monetized youtube channel/binds it and sells it for profit?

The other idea I've been coming up against is almost the opposite of this--that because some readers form attachments to fic, deleting that fic (or even archive-locking it!) is actively harming those readers. Sure, they can't be bothered to hit the download button or get an AO3 account, but that's no reason not to think of these strangers first before doing what I want with my creative output.

Yall, life is ephemeral. There are things we will see and enjoy and never find again for one reason or another, and it's not harm being done to us, it's just the nature of existence. Having an emotional reaction to something does not give you any sort of ownership over that thing. Artists are allowed to change their minds about whether they want that art in the wild, particularly given that it's free. Maybe it's because I utilize the library a lot, but reading a book and then losing access to that book is not a crime against you, it's just a normal thing that happens. If you read something and it means that much to you, there are ways to avoid losing it (download it).

Seeing this particular attitude extend out to "not making your fic available for as many people to read as possible is harming them" is beyond bizarre. If I woke up tomorrow and deleted everything I have ever written, there would still be thousands upon thousands upon thousands of beautiful, emotional, meaningful fics out there for people to read. They would lack for nothing. Would some people be upset? Probably. Would I be hurting them? No, not really.

Sometimes people have negative emotions because of our actions, but that doesn't mean we did anything to them. This is one of those times.

Lastly, this AI and everything else bullshit really has taken a toll on my enthusiasm for posting my work. It's one thing for companies to try to pillage every thought, every word, every stroke of a pen or paintbrush to enrich themselves while actively making the planet an unbearable and inhospitable place to live, it's another when fellow fans are telling you that "Whelp that's just life, what did you expect, give us your content anyway or you're a bad person and if you complain, then I'll be taking my business elsewhere, you sensitive, entitled creative, lol."

[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - Chapter Seven.

Huge thanks to my little audience for your continued investment in this. Your commentary gives me joy to read, so don't be shy, DO let me know what you think of it :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,815

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

The feeling of something solid, inflexible and metal hitting his arm preceded it, the irate scream of the girl he had wronged in trying to do right for his father, despite his own feelings. “You fucking bastard, Sean! You fucking cunt! How dare you do that, how fucking dare you!” 

Repeated strikes hit his arm and chest, the cosh she wielded unlike anything he’d ever felt strike him, his head only narrowly missed when he put his arm up to block the blow. That’s when she changed trajectory and instead, sent a painful welt across his ribs, her next catching his cheekbone and splitting the skin.  “Fuck you! Fucking fuck you!” 

“I’m sorry, Rin,” he began, grabbing her arms and preventing any further blows, Finn coming between them and hauling her back. “I’m sorry.” 

“Catherine, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? For Christ's sake, calm down, girl! What’s the matter, eh?” he growled, yanking her away from his son, Rin glaring unblinkingly.  

Her rage was palpable, her cheeks puce, teeth gritted. “Ask your fucking son what the matter is.”  

Finn didn’t have chance to say he’d prefer it to come from her, Rin shaking herself loose of his grip and fleeing, running up the street to jump into a waiting Maybach, the car roaring away as he turned to view his son. “What in god’s name was all of that?” 

Gingerly touching a hand to his cheek, he didn’t think the bone was broken, although the split over skin hurt like hell and was pouring with blood. “Trust me, it was bad. The Strand isn’t the ideal location to reveal it, either.” Twenty minutes later and they were in the kitchen back at home, Sean holding a towel full of ice to his face while explaining the event that had prompted him to receive a beating via an irate blonde brandishing a cosh.  

Finn stood and absorbed it all before speaking, which gave an also present Marian plenty of room to open her mouth. “You bloody did what?”  

“My methods might not have been orthodox, but they yielded results.” 

Her mouth dropped open. “Not orthodox? Not fucking orthodox? Jesus Christ! What you did was vile!” 

Sean was incredulous. Not because he didn’t know what he done was wrong, but that his mother of all people was the one pouring scorn upon him for it. Marian Wallace was not exactly known for her genial magnanimity.  

“Son, you made the wrong choice. Getting Kevin’s back up like that, for fuck’s sake! We want him compliant,” he began, Sean cutting in. 

“And now he is, so what? Fucking what, dad? I did what you told me and secured the deal. You should be happy.” 

“For the love of god,” Finn groaned, shaking his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Oh, come the bloody hell on!” he scoffed, reeling from the reaction he was receiving. “It isn’t like half of our dealings are in any way, shape or form cogently principled, so I fail to see why I’m being lambasted here! Honestly, you pair of all people are lecturing me about morality? That’s rich.” 

Marian was incensed. “Sean, she’s eighteen fucking years old, and you took advantage of her!”  

“Oh, what? Scared that my actions will have you cast out of Diane Cavanagh’s elite social circle are you, mum?” he charged her with, his mother narrowing her eyes. Of course, he was right. The moral high ground she had climbed upon was for no other reason than how all of this would reflect upon her and his father.  

Finn leaned a white knuckled hand against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t how we handle business, son. It isn’t how we continue receiving respect, to counter it with such fucking disrespect,” Finn began, Sean’s mouth dropping open in incredulity. 

“Yet you fucking had me kneecap someone only three weeks ago?” he charged with a snort.  

His father pointed a stern finger. “You’ll not fucking interrupt me! You’ve been in this for four years, you ought to understand the way we operate by now. Using a man’s daughter against him as a bargaining chip is not how we remain professional, exert our dominance, or come to an agreement.” 

Sean smirked, and his mother had to be held back from slapping him for his gall. “Funny, that. Because my dominance is exactly what led to the agreement we sought being completed.” He closed his eyes momentarily and saw her there beneath him, at the mercy of his cock, almost crying for how good he gave it to her.  

 His guts then prickled uncomfortably. Again.  

“You absolute bloody shit, Sean!” his mother raged, opening her mouth to continue, her husband cutting her up.  

“I’ll handle it,” he assured her, grasping her upper arms and kissing her head before turning to his youngest. “Office, now.”  

He followed his father silently from the kitchen, wondering just how large the barrage of shit he was about to have heaped upon him would be. Entering the office, Finn went to his whiskey and poured two glasses, passing one to his son, his free hand then clipping him hard straight around the head.  

“That’s for the mess you left with your actions. You’ll fucking learn your lesson there, boyo.” His eyes narrowed, the portly man staring him down for a few moments before his smile began to grow. 

“However, you got the signature and truly, that’s all I care about, me lad. I had to come down on you a bit, because of your mother. You have to learn, though, we keep our messes hidden and easily cleanable, and you should have known that the girl would publicly give you hell when she found out. She’s her fucking father’s daughter, that one. You need to deal with it, should she make any more noise that brings our name and reputation into disrepute.”  

Sean nodded; the message understood. “Shall do, dad.” 

They remained silent for a time, sipping their drinks, Finn suddenly snorting softly with laughter. 

“What?” 

Sinking his whiskey, the elder of the Wallace’s shook his head. “Holy fuck, she really fucking came at you with both barrels blazing. Jesus wept!” 

“I’m glad you find it so entertaining,” he pouted, his ribs and face still throbbing.  

Finn lifted his chin, walking back to the whiskey bottle. “Learned your lesson there, eh?” 

He had. It was a lesson learned in how to handle the nature of the business, how to be ruthless in a more covert way, to handle fallout but ultimately, how to keep the Wallace name both clean and on top. He’d also learned that emotional investment had its place, and it was not within the realms of subterfuge.  

As for Finn, it was the moment that first sealed the notion over his son’s predisposition for reckless actions borne of emotional volatility. It also meant he had to involve himself in the deal to smooth things over, try to gauge whether Sean was likely to receive a bullet in the back of his head at some point in the future over his actions. That of course meant visiting Kevin personally.  

While underneath, he truly didn’t give much of a shit over his son’s methods beyond wishing his punishment for them hadn’t been so public, he had to make appearances directly to the contrary as he sat with Kevin in his home office at the fireside, the men sipping whiskey.  

“I ain’t happy. I really bloody ain’t, old lad. Using my daughter to hold me over a barrel like that? He went too fucking far. The fact he made it so I had to witness him fucking sexually brutalising my girl an’ all? Fuck that, and fuck him,” he spat, his eyes leaving the fire to stare menacingly at Finn.  

He sighed, knowing this anger wouldn’t be quelled at any point soon. “I know, Kev. Believe me, I gave him a fucking broadside for his actions. I did.”  

“If there wasn’t so much money tied up in all of this, so much to gain long term for me, and the fact I fucking think the world of you, trust me, Finn. I would have personally cut your fucking son from his ears to his arsehole for doing that to my girl. Fuck, I’m fucking surprised she only took a cosh to him and didn’t end up knifing him herself. She’s got one hell of a temper, my Catherine. He needs to know, though. That ain’t the way we do business. Not now, not ever.” 

Finn nodded, in complete agreement, or at least seeming to be for appearances sake. True, he’d rather Sean hadn’t acted so below the belt where professionality was concerned, but at least it had secured a signature that Kevin should have given in the first place. “I’m in agreement with you there, mucker. However, if anyone is going to lay hands on my son, it isn’t you. Catherine gave him a damn good hiding, and it’s done with. We’ve signed, now let’s move on.”  

Kevin saw it well In Finn's eyes, the flash of menace, the reason why within London’s reach, he was king. Of course, he returned it. Finn Wallace might’ve been king, but he was the treasury, one of the main investors into his projects, both above board and below. He only stayed for a further half an hour, gauging that Sean wasn’t in any danger of reprisal retribution, leaving the office just as Rin was alighting the stairs.  

“I’m sorry, love,” he offered, resting his hands to her shoulders and placing a kiss on her head. He liked the girl, that much was true enough. He supposed in some small way he felt a little guilt that she’d been hurt by his son’s actions, but not much. “If it’s anything to you, he took himself off to casualty earlier. Fractured cheekbone and a broken rib.”  

Rin sniffed, clenching her jaw. There was no way she would show weakness before the powerhouses that were her father and Finn Wallace. Never. “Your son means less than nothing to me. I appreciate you for apologising, though.” Finn went in the direction of the side door, Rin the lounge to grab the bottle of nail polish she’d left in there, going back up to her room and her vodka.  

She treated herself to a very large bottle of Absolut Vanilla on her way back home from giving Sean the beating he deserved, but that she felt absolutely no better for having delivered to him. How could she, when the only thing she wanted was to kiss him rather than take a cosh to him? When all she wanted was for it not to have been true, for him not to have sold her out like that?  

How could he, after the weekend they’d shared? Her father had shown her the video he’d received, of which she’d only been able to watch two seconds of before demanding he delete it. He’d recorded it on that first Friday afternoon, but surely, if that was all he’d needed, why had he turned up again? Moreover, why had he stayed right through until Sunday?  

There’d been a connection there, she knew it, she was neither blind nor stupid. She wondered if he’d had his arm twisted into it, if he’d decided to use her, then during the weekend they’d spent together felt differently, only to have to resort to his original blackmail plan. Rin being Rin, she groaned at herself, sinking another measure of vodka. 

“He used you for what he could get. Fucking deal with it. That’s what happened, anything else was all in your own head.”  

But was it? Pondering upon it would do no good, trying to explain it to herself. It didn’t mean Sean Wallace and his fuckery did not live rent free in her mind for the foreseeable, though. Still, she moved on, continued a life without him in it, knowing that some pieces of that puzzle would forever remain incomplete.  

As for Sean himself, he’d walked out of his father’s office that afternoon and back into life as normal, the deal went ahead as planned, and he tried not to give Rin too much of a second thought. Besides, so he heard on the grapevine, her plans to remain in London had changed just a few months later, the eldest of the Cavanagh children making an unexpected move overseas, for whatever reason.  

Out of sight, out of mind. Or rather, she should have been, yet there was not a day that passed where the guilt of it and regret didn’t gnaw at Sean like an angry wolf. He knew she could have been the one thing in his life that was real, true and beautiful. He had nobody but himself to blame that what he’d felt spark between them never did flourish. Truly, he had no one else to admonish for the fact that for the relatively fleetingly short remainder of his life, Finn Wallace saw him as little more than an impulsive liability, steadily putting more and more trust in Alex Dumani than his own son. 

And then, then everything changed years later with one visit to a tower block within the Albanian district, the mighty Finn Wallace taking his last breath because of the actions of a naive young gypsy boy and a loaded gun. It was the start of a chain of events that saw the Wallace empire topple into ruin, and would ultimately leave Sean almost dead on two separate occasions.  

The second, after murdering the brutal enforcer and untrustworthy partner that was Koba, saw him hanging by his neck after a lengthy final showdown with the ex-policeman-turned-hitman Elliot Finch, the investors closing in to prevent Sean’s return to the top.  

As he struggled, his air being cut off by the ratchet strap he dangled from, Sean saw white spots clouding his vision, trying desperately to loosen his crude noose. His eyes darted between Elliot and Billy, the latter begging the former to let him down.  

This was it, he thought, sliding from the precipice of life and into death’s cold, gleaming jaws, his vision fading further, but not enough that when he heard a shot ring out, he didn’t see Elliot’s skull blown open, his body dropping. The jaws of death had indeed closed, but not around him.   

Figures dressed in black suddenly swarmed the area, one running to Sean, swinging the rifle responsible for Elliot’s demise behind themselves and grasping the metalwork he was dangling from, brandishing a large knife. The pressure gave, air rushing back into his starved lungs, his body hitting the ground with a thud.  

“Silas, get Billy. Get him in the fucking car, quickly.”  

That voice. No. It couldn’t be.  

Her hands reached for the strap, yanking it free of his neck, Sean gasping and gurgling, his vision still swimming as she pulled up the balaclava that had been covering her face.  

Time had only made Catherine Cavanagh even more beautiful than he remembered.  

He wheezed, attempting to speak, although he had not a single clue over what the hell to say to her, the lover he’d wronged almost seven years before. Now here she was, returned to him, saving his life.  

He coughed, watching as one of the men she was with came running over, crouching to lift him.  

“Why?” he eventually croaked, the burly man throwing him over his shoulder.  

“Atticus, get rid of the bodies. Get them over to the plant, George knows you’re on the way.” The chemical plant. Sean remembered well, how Kevin Cavanagh disposed of those who displeased him. Except, there wasn’t a Kevin Cavanagh any longer, the man having passed away from stomach cancer three months before.  

So, Catherine was back to take her place at the helm of the Cavanagh empire. What that meant for Sean was anybody’s guess, and he wagered he’d likely be the last to find out as he was bundled into the back of a black Volvo SUV, Rin climbing into the front, the large man who had carried him seating himself behind the wheel.  

His focus cleared more as he lay against the cool leather upholstery, wondering where he was being taken. He didn’t trust at all that he was completely removed from the line of fire. Sure, Elliot had been terminated, but that didn’t ultimately equal his own safety. Or that of the person most important to him, all he had left in the world after his mother had shown her hand, every card within her grasp duplicitous and cunning, playing that hand against her own sons.  

“Billy...” 

Rin turned as he sat up, watching him struggle to pull a seatbelt around himself. “He’s being taken to a doctor, a very good one.” 

“Who? And where?” 

Of course, once he’d regained use of his voice, she had expected him to begin demanding answers. It was true to form if nothing else. “None of your concern. Suffice to say he shall be well looked after.”  

“I want to know, Catherine.” 

She turned again to view him, her eyes narrowed. “You are not in a position to demand anything of me. I saved your life, I saved your brother’s life, and I took out the menace who would never have ceased coming for you, had he been allowed to live.” 

“Why?” 

“You’ll find out in due course.” 

“I fucking asked you why, Catherine!”  

Oh no, not much ever put a dampener upon Sean Wallace’s ferocious temper. Before she could reply, though... 

“Hey, white man. You do not speak with my boss like that, eh, or trust me, my friend, I do something about it. You will not like if I choose that, eh, so be quiet, yes?”  

“And who the fuck are you?” Sean scoffed; his voice still hoarse. 

Immediately, the driver slammed on the brakes in the middle of the dark, desolate road, taking about a month off the tire tread. Applying the handbrake, he turned in his seat, his coal black eyes staring unflinchingly. “I am former commander in Kenyan Army, white man. I am biggest, blackest thorn in your fucking side if you ever go against me or my boss, eh. I am living hell and no mercy. That is who I am. I am also the man who tell you to shut up, so do it. Shut up. Do not make me leave this driver’s seat.” 

His pride burned, but Sean weighed up his odds. He was at an extreme disadvantage as it was; against a man who was not only ex-military, but also an estimated six feet three in height and around eighteen stones of pure muscle, he could guess. It likely would not end well for him. At all.  

The driver continued, turning to Rin, doing a double take. “Why do you look like this, eh? You bite back biggest grin.”  

She chuckled softly, reaching to squeeze his shoulder. “Ever my no-nonsense protector, Sokoro.” And boy, had he been just that for the past seven years.  

He beamed, putting his foot down. “I promise this to your father, and I promise to you.” He then reached for the dials at the front of the car, turning up the heat. “Ahh, this is better.” 

“Sok, it’s like a fucking sauna in here as it is!” Rin exclaimed, cracking her window a little. 

“It is cold, yes? February in London is chilly, eh.” 

“Well,” she hummed, “I suppose when you’re used to it only getting as low as ten degrees in winter, it must be somewhat of a shock to the system, to experience temperatures in the minuses.” 

He whistled, chuckling. “It is an experience, eh.”  

Sean quickly pieced together what he was hearing, not that anyone could miss it, really. It seemed Rin had been over at the place he remembered her telling him about, the wildlife reserve in Kenya. Why, he wondered, had she chosen that desolate location in the middle of nowhere, abandoning her dream of attending LSE once her A Level’s were done with? It seemed out of character, for her to relinquish a goal she had held for so long, no matter how much fondness she had for the place she’d told him about.  

Why Africa? It didn’t make sense. Had he made good on his threat to release the video of them having sex to the internet, he’d quite understand her desire to run away, find refuge in a place like that. But he hadn’t. Why had she vanished? These questions and more bubbled upon his tongue, but the threat of Sokoro’s ire as well as his own exhaustion after once again brushing up against death kept him silent, resting his head against the window as he watched the dawn break over the countryside. 

Just under two hours later and they were turning into the long driveway that led to Mulford Hall, the vast property exactly as he remembered. How different would life be for him now, he wondered, if he’d ignored his father and deleted that video the last time he was there.  

Stepping from the car, he felt a little lightheaded but not so much that it impeded being able to walk unassisted, not that he was likely to receive such, Rin and Sokoro striding ahead to the side door. He could see it in his mind, the eighteen-year-old version of her standing there in her big sweater and socks, sighing. It still needled at him, how he’d killed dead the connection he had with her, all in the name of power and business, both of which he’d ended up losing anyway.  

Even if he’d still lost everything, he had a feeling he’d have never lost her in it all, had he done the right thing.  

They walked into the kitchen, Rin taking a large, paper bag and sliding it across the counter to him, her eyes not meeting his. “Here, clean clothes. Go take a shower and make yourself comfortable. I have a meeting to get to. Sokoro will be here, keeping an eye on you, so don’t even think about trying to escape.” 

He raised an eyebrow, lifting the bag from the island. For a brief moment, it flashed through his mind, her sitting where the bag had previously been, and him between her legs, fucking the living hell out of her. “So, I’ve been kidnapped, then, opposed to being saved?” 

Her eyes met his then, without any trace of warmth. “You’re here for a purpose. I’ll be back later.”  

The revelation of that purpose was one he’d have to wait upon a little longer, he supposed, Rin exiting and leaving him being stared down by the Kenyan giant of a man, his arms folded.  

Sean couldn’t help but wonder if he’d fared better to have been left hanging. 

[kingarthurflourofficial]

july books

starter villain 3.5/5 (i do love! a john scalzi. his books feel so much like coming home even when i'm not hugely intrigued by the premise - he's an author you can trust to have a satisfying if weird ending)

cyber mage DNF (i love saad z hossain's other books - just think his style of writing is a little better suited to his novellas)

kundo wakes up 3.5/5 (see above! i love the world of his novellas a LOT and i think this was my fave yet.)

the parliament 3/5 (great concept! some really good moments! just didn't really click with me and i didn't like the main couple or think they made a good pairing)

hitchhikers guide to the galaxy 3.5/5 (by contrast, much more fun a re-read of this vs castle in the air - i felt a lot more competent at picking up on the nuance and satire vs when i read This at fifteen lol)

running close to the wind 4.5/5 (WHAT A FUN BOOK! only quibble was how much it felt like fanfiction like - in a fun way for sure! just very much like we were reading a couple we already knew the framework for so the author felt comfortable jumping right into the action and i could have used a little more time with worldbuilding)

the duke at hazard 5/5 (AHHHHHHHHHHHH NEW KJC AHHHH AND IT'S A GORGEOUS HOMAGE TO HEYER'S THE FOUNDLING! what a soft and enfolding work it is it's only been a couple weeks since i read it and already i want to be back in that world!)

the house of the red balconies 5/5 (talking of soft and comforting works! this was my introduction to aj demas and please know i immediately stayed up until four am reading three more of her books.)

sword dance 4/5 (loveeee a secret agent using his skills as a dancer to go undercover! love a disabled soldier loving them and seeing them as a whole person and vice versa!)

saffron alley 5/5 (OUGHHHHH now this is a MASTERCLASS in how you do miscommunication. not a plot device not a gimmick but something showing characters' inner lives and struggles and growth!)

strong wine 4/5 (not enough of the Boukos family but otherwise lives up to the promise of the first two)

kill the farmboy DNF (has the AUDACIty to say it's an homage to terry pratchett. i wouldn't let terry pratchett piss within a hundred yards of this book because it would be too good for it.)

soulless 3/5 (doesn't take itself too seriously! if it had been a little more queer i think i would have like it more and as it was the sexy scenes weren't too awful for a straight couple, but then i'm a sucker for a werewolf)

a botanical daughter 2/5 (INFURIATING. how dare it have a gorgeous premise of two insane gay victorian men creating themselves a daughter from taxidermy and mushrooms and fail at the premise so badly i WANTED the daughter to go feral and murder them all)

prospects 3/5 (i'm not trying to be rude and i had a pretty good time reading this but my gods and little fishes there was SO. much. baseball. {shocking in this sports novel about baseball})

evenings and weekends 2/5 (maybe i am just. very much not the target audience for this kind of book but i hateeeeee books were people are just wandering around lying to each other and themselves and generally being dicks. like what's the point! also not helped by my hating london and the hottest days of summer which is arguably the main character here.)

box hill 4.5/5 (okay listen. listen. i know everyone and their aunt has to have perfect morals these days and write the stoplight system into all their fanfiction they write for fun and therefore even moreso for published works but DAMN. i loved this book! it made me feel FERAL like! is it a portrayal of a healthy relationship? absolutely not. sustainable? no way. does it seep into your bones with a kind of aching longing for something formless and deep and heavy? Y E S. it does exactly what it sets out to do and i simultaneously want to force everyone i know to read it and also hug it to myself and snarl when people try lest they read it the wrong way.)

[liyazaki]

MOR! My beloved. I can always expect the truth from you. Overall thoughts on Between Us? I know the final ep was not your fave but how about the series? What would you want to keep? What would you want to change?

Eboni, my darling- hoo, boy. you're about to get way more than you bargained for, but I got some Thoughts™️ & some Things™️ to say.

disclaimer: Between Us was a sweet, serviceable, inoffensive show. I mostly enjoyed watching it & I loved being back in the UWMA universe, however tangentially.

speaking to the collective “you” here: if you loved the show from start to finish, I'm sincerely happy for you! if it'll lessen your BU fandom experience to read critiques- which is valid & completely understandable- click away. I swear I'm not trying to rain on your parade (or argue with anyone, which I won't be- period).

also, let's check ourselves: this is a show. it's not that serious- it couldn't be less serious, actually. sometimes I just like to go off the analytical deep end...it's a good time for a nerd like me. this is my house (my blog) & I'm just having fun, throwing digital paint around.

with all that out of the way, let's jump into it.

UWMA set an extremely high narrative standard. we knew from scene one the writers weren't messing around. that opening is burned into my memory forever.

from compelling flashbacks, to multiple couples that had something for everyone, to little plot details weaved in from the beginning that only made sense later- they knew exactly what story they were trying to tell & they told it in a big way. it was tightly constructed, cleanly delivered and hit all the right notes for me personally.

UWMA is a tough act to follow. in the end, it felt like Between Us barely tried. to quote an MDL reviewer (before the finale even aired): in with a bang, out with a whimper.

step one of any good story is solid character development. it's what draws us in, making & keeping us emotionally invested. we have to like these characters- and know enough about them- in order to care. that- and a good, solid plot- is what sustains our attention.

in a pretty atypical way, Between Us had serious emotional fan investment long before it had basically any character development (thanks to BounPrem's chemistry, IMO).

Win and Team had roughly 31 minutes of total screentime in UWMA, but you'd have never known it from the fever-pitch fandom support years before its release. we didn't have much real character knowledge or depth to go off of, but many of us came into this show ravenous for more of their story (raises hand).

the show's over now and, disappointingly, I don't feel like I learned much about either Win or Team that I didn't already know. we did see them struggle- Team with his guilt and insecurities; Win with his vague intimacy aversion and self worth issues.

Team and Win had plenty of things between (heh) the two of them to overcome- so what went wrong?

for me, Between Us suffered from a tragic case of barely-scratching-the-surface character development (there was so much there to play with narratively & yet- sigh), paired with serious flaws in the rising action.

every single story in existence uses rising action. to quote Henry of The Closer Look, a media analyst I like: "rising action is basically narrative tension. it's the way the conflict builds as the story goes along."

when a story utilizes rising action effectively, the audience ends up feeling almost elated by the end. it's almost like we actually went on the same journey as the characters, and we now get to bask alongside them in just how far they've come. we want to see characters we care for improve, persevere. overcome, conquer.

when rising action is handled correctly, the plot progression looks something like this.

via Henry's excellent analysis on why TLOU2 divided its fandom so thoroughly

Between Us had tension, it had conflict- but it looked something like this (I'd add way more hills, personally).

"what you're seeing here is an abomination of story structure." hey- Henry said it; not me.

the conflicts went up and down throughout the story. Team internally spirals; Win does something sweet and pulls him out of it. everything seems fine; Win pulls back.

rinse, wash, repeat in an endless cycle, made worse by the fact that they struggled with- and apparently overcame- the same. exact. issues, over and over, the entire time.

conflicts that seemed to be resolved came back exactly as they were, sometimes multiple times in a single episode. by episode 7 or so, it was getting tedious. by the end, I was just bummed.

for me, watching Between Us was going around in circles, hoping we were working towards some actually-important climax that never came. and I wanted to believe we were going somewhere, right up until the bitter beige-on-beige end.

there were no scenes that actually made me hold my breath, ala Bad Buddy’s confession-of-legends on the rooftop. no repeating themes, masterfully culminating in the finale (running up the cape in ITSAY). Between Us left me with an itch for depth and impact that only fan fics can scratch at this point (bless you writers).

yeah, Win and Team ended up together- of course they did. I don't think anyone had any doubts they would eventually. but standing at the finish line, do I care that they ended up together?

I hate to say it, but- not really. they didn't give me enough to make it feel meaningful- like it actually meant something. it just- is. yay? I guess?

this post was brutal enough, but to answer your question about what I'd keep & what I'd change? it's hard to pick when the whole thing just felt like special episodes (filled with lots of cute, sweet moments, to be fair) with an enormous dash of missed opportunity.

all in all, I don't regret watching but it's a universe I'll only be returning to via fan fic fixes- and UWMA, my forever top 3 BL beloved.

[ryanhamiltonwalsh]

I saw Megalopolis last night.

One of my favorite things is when an artist banks on earlier successes and cashes in that cred to take a huge creative swing, so in that sense, I love that this exists. It is also one of the biggest, most expensive messes I've ever seen on screen with much of the cast tonally delivering different varieties of "over the top" performances than all of the other characters, both main and secondary. Things that don't need explaining are intensely over-explained—there is literally a montage of spinning newspaper headlines coming at you—and things that desperately need explaining are not explained whatsoever. But the film is so excessive, so saturated with information, that you are discouraged from doing any reading between the lines or inferring things on your own because the message Francis Ford Coppola telegraphs to you from the jump is: EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW AND *CAN* KNOW ABOUT THIS MOVIE IS WHAT I SHOW YOU ON SCREEN. In that way, making a guess about why certain characters have superpowers, for instance, distinctly feels like you're writing Megalopolis fan fiction. There is nothing to suggest you can figure any of this out on your own, or should try to.

For 2/3rds of the movie, only a select amount of the theater audience was laughing at all of the patent absurdity they were being show with a straight face, but at a certain point, the tide shifted and everyone was of this mind. You could literally see people in the crowd often throwing up their hands in a "wait...what?" motion repeatedly. Voiceover narration comes and goes, sometimes paired with even more exposition literally written in stone. Sometimes it looks genuinely gorgeous, other times like a film student just bought a green screen.

I love the movie that Aubrey Plaza and Shia LaBeouf thought they were in; their performances are beautifully absurd and unhinged. Adam Driver, to me, only seemed truly comfortable during the sequence where he gets absolutely twisted on various substances and chants self-talk mantras like "When you jump into the unknown, you prove you are free" which is what FFC is doing here, and my admiration for that act is boundless. He could have ended his career with a small period piece all shot in one cabin and it would be lauded and celebrated but he would never forgive himself for not trying to make this. I truly gotta salute this legend for this move. But in the end, there's this enormous irony in the room at all times which is, basically:

This is a movie about literal 'world building' that is very bad at worldbuilding.

You couldn't make up a more dramatic fatal flaw for a film to have, right? Kind of beautiful. Kind of tragic. Forget about it, Francis, it's Megalopolis.

p.s. There is a 2 sec shot of the fate of Dustin Hoffman's character that is the funniest thing I've ever seen. One companion said of it, "It felt like a Kickstarter stretch goal. If we hit this amount, we'll film and show you the fate of Nush Berman."

p.s.s there is a scene where someone connects a USB drive to a computer and does so correctly on the first try. It's the most unrealistic thing that happens in a movie where a gun shot to head heals fully between acts.

[lauriquasar]

Nobody as Weak as I Feel

pairing; Finn Wolfhard x singer!gn!reader

synopsis; the reader is a musician who is performing in front a large audience for the first time, but finn isn’t there to support them :(

authors note; every time I see a clip of Olivia Rodrigo and Louis Partridge I gain a year of life (Louis at Olivia's concerts inspired this fic thx yall) , also this feels so clunky i’m sorry if the chunks of text are difficult to read 😭

lowercase intended , not proof-read , 667 words , originally was an x character

Y/n threw off the hoodie they were wearing, before pulling out their phone to call their boyfriend, Finn. They were preforming for the first time, in front of an audience of at least 9,000 people which obviously had them on edge, and left without comfort.

Finn was supposed to be coming but, he was busy doing interviews and events for his new movie. And honestly he had plenty of time to get there after, but jumping back into the spotlight had him busy and out of time for personal affairs. Finn always came to y/n's concerts, but usually they were smaller, way smaller.

"You're coming over later though, right?"

Y/n asked through the phone to Finn.

Of course, make sure to get Millie or Caleb to send me a video, okay?

"I'll tell them,"

Y/n sighed.

I love you so much, I'm so sorry I can't make it

"It's fine. I'll be fine— as long as you come over later!"

Y/n felt a lump arise in their throat. Something about Finn seeming so close but being so far away, made y/n almost angry.

You know I will! And we can do whatever you want when I get there

"Thanks Finn, love you. Okay, I gotta go get ready, my designer is here, bye."

Bye, I love you, and I'm so proud of you

"Yeah, I love you too, and thanks."

Y/n hung up and held their head in their hands, until the kind designer offered their comfort— then got started on getting y/n ready.

After about 40 minutes of the stage being occupied with other artists preparing the crowd for y/n, it was finally their turn to perform.

Y/n walked onto the stage, hearing their heart bounding in their ears along with the multitude of applause— sure they were going to fuck something up somehow.

"Hello everyone, holy shit I'm so nervous,"

Y/n giggles into the mic, making everyone else in the audience laugh. They scanned the audience for anyone they knew, before finding Millie and Caleb in the middle of the venue— which gave them an ounce of peace.

"Should I tell you the song or, you know what you'll figure it out,"

Y/n stops themselves from speaking any further, worried about embarrassing themselves anymore than they already felt and started to play their most popular single. Once they heard the crowd singing along, they started to feel more at ease.

The concert had ended about an hour later, y/n went to go find Millie and Caleb, to thank them for coming and to ask if they got any good videos.

As y/n was leaving the venue, they were stopped by a multitude of people asking for pictures and acknowledgment. They took as many as they could before trying to run away, though they couldn't get far before they felt a hand slip into theirs.

They looked up to see who the hell had suddenly grabbed their hand, until they noticed a familiar head of dark hair and big brown eyes.

"you were great! the set list was so fucking good,"

Finn spoke into y/n's ear while y/n tried their hardest to engulf finn in the biggest hug they could while still walking to the exit.

"when the hell did you get here?"

y/n asked pure excitement shining through their words.

"i got here basically the second you started, although i saw a bit of TV Girl when i came,"

y/n smiled and continued to walk with finn holding their hand out of the venue, and finally getting to their car while finn showed y/n all the badass videos he took of them on stage.

[agirlwritingthingsforgirlstoread]

The Autobiography of a Neurodiverse Oreoette (Can Shorten to TANO (or just....NO)) Chapter 1

I warn you. This writing piece might come across as a bit pitiful. I'll write out all of the trigger warning before I get started. This writing will contain childhood suicide ideation, bullying, Marxist musings, social rejection, social anxiety, adulthood suicide ideation, anger management issues, empathy deficiencies, so much failure, and maybe after all of that, just sprinkle of acceptance and hope.

This author has loved writing see the beginning of time ( yes really), and may or may not be partially stuck in some mixture of childhood, teenage, and young adult reasoning. This author has also spent most of her life alone, so please forgive any misperceptions on the outside world. This author can only conceive of what is in her head, a side effect of her neurodiversity. This writing will likely not be written chronologically, but the author hopes that the order makes some sense to the reader. This author wishes the reader luck on this journey.

Now that the disclaimers are written and the audience is established, let's begin. There are things that are different, but in a normal way. Let's take fashion. For decades, centuries, millennia even, each generation has felt a need to reinvent their expression of themselves through the clothing adorned on their bodies. In high school in the late 2000s, skaters and their admirers waltzed through the halls very tight jeans that hugged the ankles, known as skinny jeans. Other students wore bright red lipstick, and dark hair, a reflection of a vampire obsession caused by Young Adult novels. But the perceived norm were expensive shirts from labels like Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister and Aeropostale, maybe with a pair of flip flops from Bebe. There were norms, and accepted deviations from those norms. Deviations could mean you were treated with hostility from the accepted norms, but there were usually at least a handful of people to clump up with in the cafeteria, even on the furthest points from the norm.

And then there are people like me, who wore clothes from elementary school, that were untaken care of, who who thought less of her appearance because they had read Dr. King and took his statement on being "judged by the content of their character" as literally as possible. This was not a deviation from the norm, it was an attack on unspoken values that our culture holds dear, it is never socially acceptable to look "unkept" or as if you just rolled out of bed and threw on garments. That is not a fashion statement. That is a failure to do humaning correctly. And so one might imagine the confusion at the way may classmates ignored me, snapped at me for asking questions, moved away from me when I approached, and held a general disdain for my existence. You also might imagine that when others respond to a person negatively, that person may be inclined to do some self reflection and change things about themselves to covert to more acceptable ways of being. But not me. My brain works differently. Like many students of the Barney era, I was taught that uniqueness was a prized possession, and I was stubborn enough not to change, even when facing painful isolation. After all, if all of your friends jumped off a bridge, you wouldn't do it too would you? Yet another idiom that I took literally. Nuance was not, is not my forte. It really doesn't help that flat out rejection of social norms are usually not met with kindness, not from students or adults. My parents and teachers, god bless them, were just as curt and cruel as the students in school. I think the most cutting comments about my appearance came from my mother, and my stubbornness and unwillingness to let go of my core principles, that a person's appearance has nothing to do with who the person is on the inside, caused a household where compliments were non existent (at least towards me), and violent outbursts were the norm.

There's that word again, norm. See, another unspoken rule is that it's okay to be cruel to kids if they are failing at grasping one of the basic tenets of society. There was so much sympathy for her .How could she have been cursed with such an evil child? We know she's evil because of how she looks. Surely these acts of cruelty we witness are acceptable because when a child exists outside of the rules, the abuser is justified in any and all attempts to force them into compliance. Particularly true if the child has very poor hygiene, like I did/do. That would exhaust the compassion of any reasonable person, thus violence is a completely fair response. I wonder if his is how terrorists groups justify their behavior.

End of Intro

[gothyyy]

A/N: demon slayer characters realizing they’re in love with you

Pairings: Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Mitsuri, Shinobu, Kanao, Muichiro (separately) x GN (like two instances of they/them pronouns being used) reader

Warnings: series typical violence

like my work? consider reblogging, sending in requests (please read my rules before requesting) and following me to support me and help me gain more of an audience!

- lowercase intended -

————————————————————————

TANJIRO KAMADO •

- it started from a strong urge to protect you at any cost, and tanjiro thought it normal to have more of an incentive to protect you than any other person

- yet he couldn’t stand seeing you hurt, and his heart felt all weird whenever you smiled at him

- the exact moment he realized he was in love with you would be hard to pinpoint exactly, because he had known he felt something for you since the start, but this feeling was different

- it’s hard to explain, he had known but he also didn’t know, if that even makes sense

- you were walking together at night when rain started to pour from the sky. tanjiro took your hand, talking about how you needed to get inside before either of you got sick. he heard you laughing about how seriously he was taking a little bit of rain and the whole world seemed to move in slow motion as he looked back at you and felt himself begin to smile as he realizes that his suspicions were right, he is in love with you after all

INOSUKE HASHIBIRA •

- okay let’s get one thing straight here, he didn’t know what love is

- he didn’t understand and frankly got annoyed by how his heart would beat faster when you touched by accident, how he always wanted to be around you, none of it he understood

- tanjiro sat him down and explained what it’s like to be in love with someone, and inosuke literally thought it was a disease or something that you can catch

- he just thought you were good partners in a fight against a demon, right? right?!

- wrong. he never really confessed to you per se, he just kinda yelled out one night that he loves you before running away out of embarrassment, elementary school kid style

ZENITSU AGATSUMA •

- oh boy

- he’s someone who throws the word “love” around a lot, so it had begun to lose meaning when he met you. but you gave a whole new meaning to love, at least in his eyes

- he’s definitely asked you to marry him multiple times, but you thought nothing of it until one day he said he was serious about it

- if, in a fight, a demon got even relatively close to you, zenitsu would come flying in and cut off whatever limb of its was closest to you with words along the lines of “don’t touch them.”

- but how did he realize he loved you when the word had no meaning to him? it was really just another night spent wide awake with you and his friends asleep. he realized he could hear your heartbeat, and never in his life than in that moment was he more comforted. the sound of your heartbeat made him realize he wanted to live with that sound forever, he wanted to cherish you for the rest of your and his own life

MITSURI KANROJI •

- seeing how she’s lovey with everyone she meets, you didn’t suspect anything at first

- but she found herself more and more drawn to you as the days went by, time without you felt almost painful to her in a way

- fighting alongside you made her feel so…warm inside for some reason she couldn’t quite understand

- but how did mitsuri confess? well here’s the thing- she didn’t really have to because it was really obvious since that night, the night the two of you were sent on a mission together. she was heavily injured, and you had jumped in the way of an attack, killing the demon in the process and protecting her

- from then on she was just head over heels for you

SHINOBU KOCHO •

- she has a hard time expressing her emotions, that much is clear to anyone who knows her personally

- yet something about your smile made the anger in her heart temporarily subside, leaving her with a strange sense of happiness she hasn’t felt since her sister’s passing many years ago

- she had likely realized her love for you when you complimented her swordsmanship, saying you thought it was really cool that her sword style didn’t revolve around slashes, as well as complimenting her smarts on being able to create a poison that worked against demons

- since that day she had a soft spot for you, always wanting to be the one treating your wounds when you got injured during a mission, visiting you while you recover

- she definitely gifts you a few vials of her wisteria poison for dire situations to keep with you, in a small wooden box decorated with butterflies on it

KANAO TSUYURI •

- her inability to feel emotions certainly made it…difficult to be around you at first. she didn’t understand how someone could possibly feel emotion and grow to love the world around them the way they did when it was likely they’d lost everything dear to them

- yet something about you being naturally drawn to her was beautiful in a way

- she had passed by people indifferently before, but something about you was so different to her. her need to stay neutral in opinion towards everything for her own safety in the past backfired in that case because she truly did want to get to know you

- so when you took the first step and extended your hand out to her when she’d fallen, and that action strengthened her willpower more than you’d ever know

- “thank you for giving me strength…maybe i’d loved you all along…” she had thought to herself as you killed demons in tandem and watched the sun rise

MUICHIRO TOKITO •

- you knew something was up when he actually remembered who you were, for starters. usually it takes him a while to remember people’s names and connect those names with appearances but for you it was immediate

- come to think of it he always had a strange look in his eyes when he looked at you, but what exactly did that look convey?

- how could he possibly forget you when your smile helped clear the mist in his mind? when your voice is what he thinks of when his life is on the line against a demon?

- walking off into the sunrise together after a mission, he knew right then and there that he loved you. it was a simple conclusion to draw up for him

- frankly, it didn’t even surprise him that he had fallen for you. how could it when you’re such a lovable person?

[enigmaticexplorer]

Maia! I can't thank you enough for your kind words. This was such a slow-paced chapter, but those soft moments are some of my favs :)

He probably couldn't deal with the thought of looking at Kazi after he did it 😅🥹 mans giving himself second hand embarrassment for no reason haha. But AGAIN it's part of his quiet affections!! Bit by bit their lives are becoming more entangled and it makes me so happy!

A few things on this because this is one of the most important things in their developing relationship! You are completely right--Wolffe shows his affections quietly, and mostly through actions rather than words. Wolffe knows Kazi--he knows her morning routine, he knows she's hyper-independent--and him cutting the lumina berries is an attempt for him to show Kazi what he's ✨feeling.✨ A little behind the scenes: Wolffe thinks he's being obvious and clear with his intentions. He's actually so confident in himself that the events in Chapter 13 are a SHOCK to him. He's trying, and that's all that matters haha.

we as the audience know what pairing IYASIF is, Kazi doesn't, so Kazi legitimately believes this even if she thinks she's lying at this point.

You get it! It's obvious that as the readers, we know Kazi and Wolffe will get together. But Kazi doesn't know anything! It's easy to judge her and criticize her for not recognizing these signs but 1) she's mistrustful, an overthinker, and self-saboteur, and 2) her fear of abandonment prevents her from acknowledging her real feelings.

She's an interesting mirror to Kazi though, the clear outcome of Kazi's AU and it's fascinating to read about!

Haha Carinthia is such a fun character. I love her. I hate her. She's really there to poke Kazi and it makes for such a fun dynamic, in my opinion. My favorite part about Carinthia is that she's not nice. Her backstory makes her more sympathetic but she wants revenge on the Empire. And she's willing to play mean and dirty to get it.

she masked so well she's pretty much wearing the social equivalent of a hazmat suit at all times.

STOP. I love this--hazmat suit 😂 because you're so right! Sometimes I wonder if Kazi even knows her real self because of how long she's spent masking herself. And yes--Wolffe, Neyti, Daria, and even the other men are proving they like her without the mask! She can't see it yet, but it's there! They're recognizing her! She simply needs to start recognizing their recognition!

I love how Fox quietly tries to engage with her when he's so mistrustful of everything around him, he's quieter and less involved and yet here he is trying to help!

I can't remember if I've said this yet, but Fox is a mirror to Kazi. At the end of the chapter, Wolffe even comments on it. And that's why Fox and Kazi get along so well. Because they know what the other feels. (It's also why Wolffe is better at navigating Kazi than other people. He's had practice with Fox.)

Joking aside I really fucking feel for Fox here, he and his brothers have been through so much

Honestly, Fox has been such a delight to write. I understand and enjoy stories following the clones in the Empire-era where they're committed to rebellion, but I also think there is a flip side with the clones who are tired and just want to rest. The clones who spent their entire lives fighting a pointless war and now just want to stop. And it made sense, in my mind, for that to be Fox. He's done some bad things; he's endured some bad things. He can be so antagonistic in later chapters because his entire goal is to see his brothers happy. And he's willing to do whatever is necessary to get them to that point. It actually sets him at odds with his brothers and even Kazi (jumping the gun here but it's to come!). He believes he knows what's best for his brothers and he's pissed that they refuse to see it. It's something he struggles with (a foil to Kazi? 😏) and it's something he has to work on throughout this story. Anyway, some "fun" moments to come between him and Kazi when they don't see eye-to-eye haha.

I love that Wolffe isn't letting her push him away

YES. Wolffe cares, and he's persistent enough to keep pursuing Kazi, even when she tries to push him away. He's committed, and I love him so much for it haha.

ALLI YOU'RE KILLING ME

The end of this chapter is a fav of mine! Neyti with her flower crown and Wolffe's compliment! Wolffe saying Kazi is his friend! Wolffe brushing her hair away and Kazi letting him! Watching the stars together! Enjoying a quiet, late-night moment together! It's soft and slow-paced and I just love it so much, so I'm so happy that you like it too! For a while, I actually hated this chapter because it felt like "filler" to me. But when I started fleshing out the moments with Kazi and Wolffe at the end, it turned into something I adore. Anyway, those lines about being friends were late additions, and I'm so glad I added them!

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XII

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.7K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

23 Melona

The meeting with Carinthia was quick. Kazi transferred the men’s datastick and Carinthia exchanged the Imperial credits. 

A cooler morning kept the warehouse’s temperature tolerable. It had been weeks since Kazi was last called here for network-related dealings, and even longer since the network’s contacts requested her to spy. She found the lack of both communication and work odd. However, there were more important things keeping her busy.

Her interaction with Carinthia was fairly quiet. Carinthia seemed more tense than usual, her words polished yet curt, her Inner Rim accent detectable. Kazi didn’t pay much attention to the exchange or Carinthia’s moodiness. Her mind was elsewhere, stuck like a fly caught in a spiderweb.

This morning, when she started on breakfast, she found a lumina berry already prepared. Long strips, somewhat jagged and imperfect, rested on a plate for Neyti. Chunks, cubed and proportional, cluttered a bowl.

Wolffe was notably absent from his usual spot, working outside, tending to his garden. 

Kazi regarded the lumina berry strips and chunks for far too long. Her mind whirred from confusion while something deep and inscrutable inside her warmed. 

The thought of Wolffe preparing the lumina berry bothered her. She had clearly been too open yesterday at the Marketplace. Too vulnerable. She didn’t want his fucking pity, and she had half a mind to call him out on it—

“I’m surprised you’re not married yet.”

The sheer randomness of the comment caught Kazi off guard, and she could only blink her confusion, eyeing Carinthia. 

Marital conversations she expected from Daria. But the opinion of a stranger, and especially the opinion of someone like Carinthia, both annoyed and unsettled her. Her bafflement must have been obvious because Carinthia shrugged, tucking a crimson curl behind her ear.

“I researched Ceaia when you first joined the network,” Carinthia said. “A woman of your age should have been married by now, and with two kids.” She sniffed. “Your culture emphasizes marital duty, yet here you are. Unmarried and childless, unless you count Neyti, whom I don’t.”

Electing nonchalance to defensiveness, Kazi shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I never agreed with that part of my culture.”

“That’s not so surprising.” Carinthia snickered. “Your life has always been so easy. I suspect ignoring a major part of your culture’s expectations was something you could casually brush aside without fear of consequence.”

The condescension in Carinthia’s tone made her clench her jaw. Their introductions to the network differed, and even though their roles complemented one another, their interactions were few. But it was clear, from those few instances, that Carinthia didn’t care for her. Snide remarks, disparaging looks, tense disagreements.

“My life hasn’t been easy,” Kazi said stiffly. “I may not be a slave in one of the Empire’s mines, but not everything has gone my way, either.”

“No?” Carinthia picked at a nail. “You have a job. A home. You have people who love you. You’re safe and happy. Your life is the epitome of easy.”

Kazi had told herself the same thing over the last few months. The last decade. Her life was easy, her struggles were incomparable to those of others, and she had no right to complain. But there was one inaccuracy in Carinthia’s assessment: She wasn’t safe. And she didn’t appreciate someone like Carinthia judging her life.

“I’m not sure what your problem is”—Kazi arched a wry eyebrow—“but your life has been just as easy, if not easier.”

Anger flushed Carinthia’s face.

“You were born into a wealthy family on an Inner Rim planet,” Kazi said. “All you’ve known for the entirety of your life is luxury and wealth. You’ve probably never wanted for a single thing.”

“You know me so well.” Carinthia sneered, blue eyes cold and unfeeling. 

Kazi considered her for a moment and then shook her head. It was obvious Carinthia wanted an argument, but she wasn’t interested in one. Turning on her heel, she strode toward the warehouse’s door—

“I was forced into my marriage.” 

The words were hushed, and Kazi nearly ignored her fellow rebel, her hand poised on the door, but curiosity stalled her movements. Still turned away from Carinthia, she hesitated. Carinthia’s past wasn’t her business, and she had no desire to spend more time than necessary with members of the rebel network. Yet she couldn’t move.

“I was a dutiful wife. Obedient and loyal,” Carinthia murmured. “I was everything my parents expected me to be. What my husband and his mother expected of me. I was the perfect wife.”

Telling herself she would regret it, Kazi lowered her hand from the door and faced the other woman. 

Shadows embraced Carinthia’s lone figure. Mocking and delighted, they sunk her cheeks and nipped at her sharp collarbones. They dulled her eyes into vacuous pits of emptiness. 

“I was the perfect wife, until I lost my child.” An eerie smile sucked what little color remained in Carinthia’s face. “My husband expected a child. He said it was my duty to provide as many children as he desired.”

A hint of nausea curdled her stomach; an unnatural chill pimpled her skin.

“Losing my child…losing her was…” Carinthia shook her head, wiping at her mouth. “The Empire came to power shortly after and I refused to sit quietly while my husband supported Palpatine’s domination. I was ostracized from my family for speaking out, for losing my child, for not providing another so quickly. I ran away, got in contact with the network, and made myself useful.”

It was like looking through a window to an alternate timeline. 

The haggard face before her—the cold resentment and unfeeling disdain—belonged to the woman Kazi could have been if she hadn’t left her mother’s house. If she hadn’t found another opportunity. 

“My daughter would have been two today,” Carinthia said, her voice breaking. She glanced at the dusty windows lining the top of the warehouse, blinking away her emotion until a cool, unaffected mask sat in place. “Did you make it to the kid’s field trip?” 

Kazi regarded Carinthia carefully. “I did.”

A bird’s song eclipsed the silence between them. Kazi briefly considered offering platitudes of sympathy, but she knew Carinthia would dismiss them. 

“Have you ever been loved?”

The question was so casual and innocent that Kazi nearly laughed from its absurdity. It was the sincere curiosity on Carinthia’s face that convinced her to remain serious. To take Carinthia seriously. She answered truthfully, “When I was a kid.”

“I fell in love once,” Carinthia said. “When I was a young girl who knew no better.” 

Carinthia closed her eyes. Flickers of pale sunlight played along the planes of her face, softening the hurt deadening her features.

“I have found that love only leads to pain.” Carinthia laughed. Quiet and cold. “I used to crave that sort of intimacy more than life itself.”

Muscles stiffened down her spine and Kazi stilled. 

Long ago, when she was a little girl, she dreamt of falling in love. 

She dreamt she would live in the lighthouse. Revived and beautifully painted, it would be her castle. For she would be a princess, and one day she would meet a knight, and they would fall in love and she would never be alone. One day, she would never fear the indomitable vastness of loneliness. 

But dreams were fleeting and reality a wheel that crushed frivolous wishes and imaginings. She was a little girl who broke, and there was no knight to rescue her. 

So she clawed herself to safety, and it was isolating and exhausting, and she didn’t care for the progressive advice claiming she was brave and strong for standing on her own. She was tired of being strong, and she was tired of being alone. 

“I think you understand,” Carinthia said, “more than you let on.”

Kazi fisted her hands behind her back. “I’ve never fallen in love.”

“Why not?”

Once, there was a little girl inside of her who yearned for intimacy. Yearned for the vulnerability of trust. Yearned to be seen and known fully. 

But that girl was dead.

Kazi had killed her. 

Killed everything she represented: whimsical innocence of life; fantastical longing for companionship.

Most importantly, she killed the part of her that yearned for love.

Shrugging, Kazi opted for a lie. “I haven’t met someone I trust enough.”

“It’s hard to meet someone you can trust when you remain so closed off.”

Kazi scoffed, needing to lessen the intensity of emotions she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in so long. “Being quiet—”

“I’m not talking about a quiet personality.” Carinthia waved a dismissive hand. “I’m talking about vulnerability. Does anyone in your life actually know you?”

Kazi held Carinthia’s gaze. People knew of her. Old classmates at university, familiar faces at the harbor.

But she knew the truth. She knew there was a depth to the question most people wouldn’t understand; a depth she was all too familiar with. 

“Invulnerability will protect you from potential pain and hurt,” Carinthia said. Her smile was pitying. “It will also isolate you from meaningful companionship.” 

Chuckling uncomfortably, Kazi reached for the door. 

“There will come a day when you find yourself loved,” Carinthia said, approaching her at a non-threatening pace, her hands finding the pockets of her black jacket. “But that person will want to know you. They will want to know the best parts, and the worst parts, and everything in between. And one day, you will have to make a decision to either let them in or push them away.”

A meter separated them. The icy blue of Carinthia’s eyes thawed. 

“What do you think you will decide?” 

The words plagued Kazi the rest of the day, containing a truth she refused to acknowledge or accept.

A truth that had haunted her for years.

28 Melona

Muted oranges fell prey to the darkening blue of the sunset.

Enjoying a cup of lemon juice she found inside the stasis along with a plate of warmed food, Kazi shifted her attention from the sunset to the people. 

Seated among the stalky ferns overrunning the backyard, Neyti was drawing on her sketchpad. Nearby, Nova was reading his datapad—most likely the scientific article detailing the creation of nysillin shots he had shared with Daria yesterday evening at dinner. 

At the edge of the jungle, Wolffe and Cody sparred, sweat dampening their shirts. Their muscles strained beneath the other’s fists. 

Wolffe jabbed and Cody sidestepped. A hand struck for Wolffe’s chest. He deflected it. A successive punch forced Cody to retreat. 

They seemed evenly matched, and while Cody was quicker, Wolffe was dirtier. A deflected strike turned into a well-aimed tap in an area that should have been off-limits. It earned a baleful glare from Cody.

The backdoor swung open, startling Kazi from her viewing, and she stiffened at the sight of her sister. Daria stilled, her lips pursing. They eyed one another, and based on Daria’s disgruntled scowl, Kazi expected their argument to renew. It was one signifier of their differing approaches to handling arguments.

Daria vocalized her discontent and issues, and she didn’t shy from engaging in heated conversations. If a problem existed, she confronted it. Once the argument ended, she moved on. Daria was quick to anger, but also quick to cool, so long as she believed herself and her ideologies to be respected.

Similar to her sister only in their defensive attitudes, Kazi preferred silence and avoidance in the hopes the argument would soon be forgotten. By others. 

Kazi never forgot conversations, and she never forgot the wrongs committed against her. There was an unintentional tallying list in the back of her mind. Categorized and kept locked away, she retrieved her list when an argument coalesced and she had to defend herself with the harbored evidence.

Until that breaking moment, she avoided possible arguments. Years with her mother antagonizing her anger, she learned it was best to mask herself. To pretend she agreed with someone in order to gain their approval. 

Teachers, parents, high society mothers. The masking protected her.  

Only seven days had passed since Kazi enforced the morning/evening potions but Daria looked better. Her cheeks maintained a healthy blush. The circles beneath her eyes were lighter. Even her honeyed hair appeared softer and fuller. Finger spasms and random sweats were notably absent.

Daria appeared the portrait of grace and poise she was known for back in their Reformist city. The youthful beauty and respectable personality mothers of high society males desired of a daughter-in-law.

A year ago, the rumor mill expected Daria to marry into one of the wealthiest Ceaian families. The day she turned twenty-five, per Reformist marriage customs, Daria would have announced her choice of husband, after seven years entertaining marriage proposals. 

Daria turned twenty-five this last Telona. And instead of marrying into a wealthy family and establishing herself as a well-known socialite, Daria would die young. Unmarried and childless.  

Marriage and children: the two dreams Daria had yearned for since they were younglings. Kazi had only ever related to Daria’s marital desires. Younglings were a different story, and one she never considered as a youngling herself. 

Daria had nurtured her dolls, and Kazi had nurtured her stuffed animals.

Their dreams were different, but back then, they didn’t care. They were excited for the other. Hopeful. And even after all this time, the only thing Kazi wanted was for Daria to be okay. To live.

Her sister’s withering glare made her heart sink. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “Thank you for dinner—”

Daria strode away, disappearing into the living area. 

Loosing a breath, Kazi faced the windows once more, folding her arms over chest. 

The sky was bruising. Neyti continued to work on her sketch, though she had moved to the table with Nova. Wolffe received a jab in his ribs. Cody’s smirk taunted him and the man faked two punches before kicking Cody in the thigh. From Cody’s outraged expression, kicking wasn’t allowed. Wolffe flashed his own smirk in response.

Near-silent footsteps entered the sunroom and joined Kazi at the windows. 

“When are you going to give Neyti the bird carving?” Kazi asked conversationally.

A strong nutty scent wafted through the air. From the corner of her eye, Fox slowly sipped his caf. Black caf lacking creamer or anything appealing. The chrono on the wall declared it was 20:30. 

“I haven’t decided if I will.” Kazi stared at Fox, waiting for an explanation. He released a heavy sigh. “She…doesn’t like me.”

The way he watched Neyti with Nova belied both the flatness and forced disinterest of his tone. Fox might have perfected a casual demeanor that hid most of his personal motivations and emotions, but Kazi knew he cared. She knew it, because she did too.

“If you give her a chance to get to know you—”

“Have you given her a chance?” He flashed her a taunting grin. “That kid wants to know—”

“It’s really none of your business.” Kazi tugged on the end of a braid, keeping her gaze on the two men sparring and not the curious little girl.

Fox chuckled lowly. “Wolffe complains about you using that phrase. Frequently.”

“Do you need something?” she demanded.

Amusement danced in his eyes and then sobered into contemplation. His expression was solemn as he said, “Sibling dynamics are never easy.”

Kazi dug her fingernails into her biceps to stifle a reaction, even as embarrassment warmed her face. The reason she worked so hard to keep her life private—the reason she locked away her emotions and hid herself—was to protect from the judgment and criticism of others. She knew she was imperfect. But it was humiliating when others realized her own flaws. 

“The oldest sibling believes himself responsible for the youngest,” Fox said. “He wants to protect his sibling. He wants to see his sibling succeed. And then you have the youngest. He wants to make his older sibling proud. He sees his effort and sacrifice. And he’s grateful.”

Outside, Cody landed a sharp jab to Wolffe’s ribs. Wolffe staggered back a step. He spat into the ferns and raised his fists, beckoning Cody forward.

“The youngest sibling wants the older sibling to respect him.” Fox set aside his mug, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “The youngest views himself as a burden. Or a responsibility.”

Kazi slid her eyes in his direction. “I thought you were a marshal commander. Wouldn’t that make you the oldest?”

“I’m not the oldest of my mates.” His chin dipped toward Wolffe and Cody. “I know my maturity makes me seem older.”

She snorted, and his lips curved into a half-smile. 

“It was Wolffe who dragged me off Coruscant,” Fox said, after a hesitant moment. “He forced me to leave. I didn’t want to.”

The confession surprised her. “You wanted to stay on Coruscant?”

“Wolffe showed up. Tried to order me around.” Fox breathed a rueful chuckle. “By that time, I’d been with the Empire for six months. I hadn’t deserted. And seeing Wolffe wasn’t easy. I’d thought he was dead. I’d hoped he was dead.”

Quick mental math explained the reason Fox refused to look in her direction. He hadn’t deserted until earlier this year. Around the time of the Purge, and only two months before the men arrived on Eluca.  

“I didn’t want Wolffe to risk his life for me,” Fox said. “And I didn’t appreciate him ordering me around. Telling me I needed to leave. I told him to fuck off. He stunned me and dragged me out. Got me off Coruscant.” Fox rolled his neck. “I woke up thinking he got me out because I was his responsibility. Nothing more. I found him in the cockpit and we got into a fight. Bruised each other up a bit. Had a nice long chat after.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Kazi reached for the white curtain near her, pretending to fix its tie. “But your situation was different. Daria is sick and unable to make her own decisions.”

Fox’s silence was intentional, and she chose to ignore it. 

“Thank you, by the way,” she said. He lifted a brow in question. “For the idea to repaint the front door and banister.”

Fox shrugged. “We’re here for the time being. Might as well make the house livable.”

Slightly offended by his comment, she wrinkled her nose. “The house was perfectly livable before you arrived.”

He threw her an unimpressed look. She rolled her eyes, reconsidering his statement. 

“You make it seem like you won’t be here for long,” she hedged.

“This is temporary.”

“But Wolffe is building a garden.” She waved a hand at the wired structure. “That’s fairly permanent.”

It sounded ridiculous, even to her ears, and she grimaced. But the thought of the men leaving, perhaps soon, unnerved her for some reason. Fox regarded her with a shrewdness that discomfited her further. A small line creased between his brows. 

“Wolffe and Cody are dedicated to the missions,” Fox said slowly. “I want to settle down. But for now, their focus is elsewhere.”

Surprised, she frowned. “You want to settle down?”

The thought of the men building their own home, possibly finding partners and having children, seemed a juxtaposition to the soldiers undermining the Empire. A quiet, domestic life contrasted the stressful, mission-oriented lifestyle they currently lived.

“I’m tired.” The honesty in his voice was detached, resigned. “We’re all tired.” 

Their sparring complete, Wolffe and Cody broke apart, joining Neyti and Nova at the table.

“They’re better at distracting themselves from it than I am.” Fox watched his brothers, his expression somber. “We all want the life we were told we couldn’t have. But they’re too afraid to go after it. So they’ll exhaust themselves with the missions ‘til they get injured enough they’re forced to stop. Or they’re killed.”

Malaise shivered down her spine and Kazi realized she was gripping the curtain so tightly her fingers were numbing. She loosened her grip, rubbing her hands together. “And you’ll follow them, even when you want to stop?”

“Always.” 

Kazi studied Fox, noting the circles beneath his eyes and the wrinkles marring his forehead. She wanted to tell him he deserved the quiet, simple life he desired. That they all deserved it. But it was obvious he already knew he deserved it, and her repeating it was unnecessary. Her thoughts must have translated to her features because Fox shrugged blasely, excusing himself and taking his cup of caf outside. 

Waiting a few seconds to give Fox space, Kazi approached the outdoor table. Neyti waved at her, her grin eager, and she proudly showed Kazi her new sketch—a portrait. 

For someone so young, the intricate details in Daria’s face—the freckles along her cheeks and the tiny birthmark on her jaw—were eerily realistic. Neyti even captured Daria’s gentle countenance and the kind youth in her smile. 

The portrait was a surreal reminder of the impending future: a contrast of Daria’s liveliness to her hastily-approaching terminality. Soon Kazi would never again see her sister’s smile. The healthy blush to her cheeks. The humored crinkles around her mouth. The adventurous twinkle in her eyes. 

Such reminders crawled along Kazi’s back, like a fishing hook trying to snag her muscles and drag her far, far away. She forced herself to focus on Neyti. To smile and compliment the artwork. To follow Neyti as the little girl set aside her sketchpad, approached the neighboring jungle, and determinedly trekked through the luscious flora. 

Eventually they found themselves wandering the perimeter of the lake. Neyti led the way. Every few meters she stopped to sniff a new set of flowers, and Kazi plucked a handful, twisting the stems into a small flower crown. 

Soon, Wolffe joined them, his silent presence comforting and welcomed, and when Kazi placed the colorful crown atop Neyti’s head, he complimented the style, earning himself a blushing grin from the little girl. And a small, appreciative smile from the crown’s creator.

Beneath the crepuscular sky, the jungle’s nocturnal fauna awoke. Bioluminescent flora silvered the soiled trail and mossed the trees. The lake quietly lapped at the shore. Stars winked their knowing mischief, mirrored across the lake’s stilled surface. Glowing pale green plants sprouted. 

As the sky darkened further, flickers of yellow scintillated. Lightning bugs. 

Neyti stood at the edge of the lake and regarded the bugs with childlike awe. Even Kazi considered them with intrigue. They landed on her arms, zapped her with their stingers, and then moseyed along their way. 

A hum of bugs and trills of nightly birds filled the clearing. Tension Kazi had held for months—for years—soothed into quiet currents she could easily ignore. It had been a while since she last appreciated the natural beauty of the world around her. 

“I saw you talking with Fox.” Wolffe stood beside her, their elbows grazing every so often, his voice quiet so that Neyti couldn’t overhear. “You get along well.”

An unspoken question, maybe curiosity, underscored his tone and Kazi searched his face. For once, he wasn’t watching her. Rather, he overlooked the lake, eyes skimming between patches of sparking yellow.

“We’ve talked a few times,” she said. Hesitating, she knocked her elbow against his—sportive in its intent. “He cares for you. A lot.”

“I know,” he said roughly.

Oblivious to their conversation, Neyti moved from the lake’s edge toward the fallen tree. She sat on its trunk and outstretched a hand. A few seconds passed before a lightning bug landed in her palm. Her soft inhale of glee reached them and Kazi felt herself smile. 

Wolffe sighed. “Fox has endured a lot.”

“You all have.”

“Cody and I had generals to rely on. When things turned for the worst.” He levelled the full weight of his gaze on her. “Fox didn’t have someone to share responsibility with. He was on his own for most of the war. And after…”

The nearby trees’ bioluminescence cast Wolffe in a silvery-blue light. It reflected in his cybernetic and swirled among the rich depths of his dark brown eye. His eyes wandered across her face, and each place they rested, her skin warmed.  

“Fox doesn’t open up much. And he keeps things to himself to lessen the pressure on Cody and me.” His probing look was exasperated and pointed. “He thinks he’s doing us a favor. But he’s not.” 

Kazi lifted her face toward the stars and one of Eluca’s rising moons. 

Sometimes Wolffe read her too well. 

“Are you insinuating something?” she said.

“You know I am.” His elbow bumped hers gently. 

“You said it yourself,” she murmured. “He doesn’t want to burden you and Cody.”

“Tell me, Ennari”—Wolffe leaned closer—“is that why you do everything on your own?” 

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Answer the question.”

Still observing the stelliferous horizon, Kazi swallowed, thinking about the tattoo inked into her spine. “Who better to rely on than myself?”

There was a pause and then, his voice quiet, Wolffe said, “I’m here.”

Starlight, like dewdrops, glistened; a small smile tugged on her mouth. “Is this an invitation to be friends?”

Wolffe chuckled. “Thought we already were.”

Kazi laughed, the carefree sound earning her a toothy grin from Neyti. The little girl waved in their direction and then chased after another lightning bug.  

“You have an odd view of friendship,” Kazi remarked. From the corner of her eye, Wolffe shrugged, his head angled back as he studied the silver-dotted canvas. She surveyed the unfamiliar stars too, seeking constellations she knew she wouldn’t find. Jokingly, she said, “You could do better.”

“I prefer you.”

Above the treetops, alone and bright, the first moon had fully risen when Kazi returned her gaze to Wolffe. He was already staring at her.

“My father used to tell me that life was about finding the little things. Finding them and enjoying them.” They were close enough she could feel the heat from his body. Or maybe it was simply her own skin blushing beneath his unwavering stare. “You went from war to desertion to these missions, and I want to know… Do you feel alive?”

Wolffe held her gaze for multiple heartbeats and then looked away. Looked toward the lake’s mirrored surface. 

The question was cryptic and obscure. A question borne from the safety of night’s vulnerability and spurred by the man whose hollow eyes were far too familiar.

“I’m not sure. I’m mostly surviving out of instinct. Keeping my brothers alive, rescuing other men. I haven’t had an opportunity since the war to figure it out.” He angled his face towards her. “You’re the same way.”

Kazi wanted to argue. To disagree and flippantly brush aside his statement as lacking true depth and understanding of her persona. 

She didn’t.

Because he was correct. She attended finishing school out of duty, and strived to succeed out of a desire to earn her mother’s recognition. To be perfect. The fear of marriage—the fear of never being enough for a happy marriage—enforced her decision to run away from home and attend University. It dominated her career choice.  

Daria’s disease, the Purge, Neyti. 

Hiding from the Empire, trying to start a new life, working for the rebel network.

It was different from Wolffe, their experiences incomparable: his survival driven by the raw, human instinct to stay alive; her survival driven by the basic human desire to keep existing.  

Long ago, though, she had known what it was like to live. It was a fleeting warmth she could still feel hints of, and yet, when she reached for it, it evaded her. Like a lightning bug uncapturable. 

However, in a clearing lit by bioluminescent matter and a single moon, standing close to a man whose gaze didn’t leave hers, Kazi didn’t feel so alone. 

“Being alive isn’t a crime,” she said into the silence, a subtle question edging her tone. Wolffe searched her countenance, just as she did his, as if they mutually needed the reassurance of the other. 

“It’s not,” he murmured. 

“Sometimes it feels like it is.”

Wolffe brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “I know.”

Bugs glowed. A frog croaked. More stars blinked.

The world existed, lost to its own machinations, and still their gazes lingered.

Masterlist | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

A/N: It’s intentional that both Kazi and Wolffe are trying to find meaning to their lives. This fic isn’t about them “saving” the other. They’re both broken people who are hurting, but they’re both also trying—for their families, for each other, for themselves. 

Also, I call them fireflies. But for the purpose of this story, it made more sense calling them lightning bugs. 

Next chapter release – March 28th  

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

[inthe-neighbourhood]

Damian Wayne Fanfiction Recs

our favourite demon brat <3

The Different Degrees of Suffering by KamalasFanfiction

Words: 6,270 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Summary:

The woman in the classroom (the teacher, he realizes, only after seeing her name tag) stares at him just as hard as the seated students. She starts to speak, her mouth going too wide, and he braces himself before he notices that he’s doing it. Forces his shoulders to move down from their halfway point to his ears. “Damien al Jewel Wayne, right?” She has a smudge of red lipstick on her front tooth, and he is stuck staring at it. She repeats his name, which he doesn’t recognize as his name, then sticks her hand out. The only familiar word was ‘Wayne’.

Everyone is staring at him.

Review:

This fic I believe many poc can relate to, the sterotypes, the judgement, the insults. It's hard to describe, but this fanfiction resonates deeply, capturing the experience perfectly. Growing up poc while many people couldn't tell what I was, they would assume I was Latina or Filipino and make presumptions about me according to what they saw. I remember the first time I wore cultural clothing to school and began talking about my Caribbean heritage, to people I finally fit into a box that they could pass judgement onto. Sometimes you want to retaliate, but you're afraid what you do will only reinforce what they believe you to be, even just regular action and words, there's the weight, the feeling that what you do will be re-contextualized by your race and culture. My father and his side of the family is Indian desent and most of them are also muslim, which made me relate more to what Damian goes through in this story. It's certainly a worthy read, also paired with amazing characterization, Damian's character being beautifully portrayed.

2. Cherry Soda by downfall_muse

Words: 1,855 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne

Summary:

After being jumped by a group of racist classmates, Damian seeks refuge at the bouncy castle Steph had once taken him to, to clear his mind. Prompt: Dami & Steph bonding

Review:

A sweeter fanfiction to break up the heavier ones, but it still discuses racism and bullying. I found the imagery of a kids birthday party, the artificial soda and bouncy castle to be interesting, it's a reminder that Damian's a kid who has to deal with issues with growing up, but that these issues are still serious. Sometimes with Damian it's easy to write him as an adult, because his kid aspect is hard to handle, but this author did a good job. The comparison of Stephanie to Damian's bully is interesting too and I love how this author wrote Stephanie's and Damian's dynamic, because I know they're sort of close in the comics so expect this fic to make a rare dynamics post one day too lol

3. troubled one by orphan_account

Words: 3,177 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

Summary:

Damian Wayne has always hated school, but it gets worse after awhile, and he isn’t even willing to tell his family.

Review:

Similar to the first two fic recs with racism in school, but it also covers homophobia in school and anti-semitism and physical bullying. While the main focus is general bullying, the other topics do get watered down by not focusing on just one of them, but that is how bullying happens, you're not just going to be targeted for one thing. Being bullied invites more things about yourself to be targeted. Lastly, the ending is very sweet, I teared up reading it, this author is very good at portraying emotions and writing dialouge.