#and i still can't go into their tags and find them-centric fic

[booksandabeer]

Steve-Centric Stucky Fics: 5 Recs + 1 TBR

As promised, here is the rec list for Steve/Bucky fics with a focus on Steve-centric stories—all of them not EG-compliant, as requested. It's not quite as long as my usual rec lists for two reasons:

(1) I'm still sick and I can barely sit up straight, so please forgive the brevity of the list, and

(2) I deliberately wanted to include exclusively fics that were written in 2022 and 2023 to shine a spotlight on a few of the many wonderful writers and artists who are still creating absolutely fantastic works for the Stucky ship and who deserve to be read just as widely and passionately as older works in the fandom. Recency bias, but make it positive!

So without further ado, here are five Steve-centric Stucky recs and one more fic that I can't wait to get to:

1. say it soft and it's almost like praying by Somanywords | 41K, M

Author's summary: Natasha says, “Look, whatever the truth is about you, we have no way of really knowing the Winter Soldier's intentions. He’s not all there, he’s not who you remember. He’s a hot mess, Steve.”

“Why does everyone think that?” Steve says, and he’s nearly yelling, but not quite, because he doesn’t need to, not when they’re so close. “Why does everyone keep saying he’s a mess—have you seen me?" 

Post-CA:TWS canon divergent. I literally finished this fic about 15 minutes ago, so I haven't even left a comment yet. I'm still processing, you could say. The author tagged this with "just another post catws fic (but by me)"—and yes, that's what you get. All the usual ingredients are here, but the joy of TWS canon divergence is of course in the endless possibilities of how these well-known ingredients are used, re-arranged, and re-imagined as something new, exciting, and often much more satisfying than in canon. This fic excels at all three and is an absolute joy from start to finish.

2. Daybreak by BonkyBornes, art by PottersPink | 9K, NR

Author's summary: They called it project Rebirth because the person was supposed to be reborn, like a phoenix from the ashes. Steve was supposed to be the phoenix. He was supposed to rise from the ashes of his old body, he was supposed to leave behind his deafness and his limp and the scoliosis that bent his entire body to the left. He was supposed to leave behind everything that held him back.

In the end, the only thing that left was the only thing that mattered.

Shrinkyclinks canon-divergent AU. What if Project Rebirth didn't go right...but it didn't go entirely wrong either? A story about ghosts but not a ghost story. Or maybe something else entirely? Steve fights his body and time and the memories that keep haunting him. Beautifully written, with gorgeous art by PottersPink that perfectly complements the story.

3. Exhale by seapigeon, art by dudewhereismypie | 15K, M

Author's summary: After the Chitauri invasion, Steve parts ways with SHIELD, unsure if he can trust an agency that tried to deceive him and built weapons from the Tesseract.

He finds himself alone in an unfamiliar future, penniless, not even legally alive. Fortunately, he knows how to survive. Steve Rogers is used to getting by on his own.

The thing is, he doesn't have to.

Shrunkyclunks. Post-Avengers canon divergent. A fic that asks the question: What if, after the battle of New York, Steve had told SHIELD a polite but firm 'No'? Follow him as he strikes out on his own, finds an apartment, a job, and friends, figures out life in the 21st century...and of course falls in love!

4. Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter | 6K, T

Author's summary: Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye. The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

Wartime fic. Would you like to read some excellent gay angst full of yearning and unresolved tension, peppered with interesting and wonderfully specific historical details and Howlies camaraderie? Would you like to get your heart crushed a little? Yes? Here you go. And if this makes you feel too sad by the end of it and you crave a bit of a happier resolution, just jump straight into a fistfull of dollars (5K, E) by the same author, which is not intended as a companion piece or even set in the same universe, but it works just as if it were. (Look at me sneaking in extra recs.)

5. Not In The Answer But The Question by aimmyarrowshigh, art by PottersPink | 27K, T

Author's summary: It rankles that his drink was made before he even got a chance to order it. What if he wanted a change? What if he were adventurous and bold? What if he tried something new?

---

Or, Steve Rogers shakes up his gray daily routine in 2014 by going back home to Vinegar Hill. To his surprise, the Jewish deli he used to frequent with Arnie is still standing.

And Steve's whole life changes again.

Shrunkyclunks. Post-Avengers canon divergent. A lost and lonely Steve tries to figure out who he was, is and most importantly, wants to be in this new century he's found himself in that is both terrifying and full of possibilities. Told in vignettes (I did not count, but I believe all of them are exactly 100 word drabbles) that perfectly illustrate the fragmented mind and life of its protagonist and his experience of constantly shifting and adjusting between past and present. A story about identity, memory, self-acceptance, and finding the courage to love and let yourself be loved. And food. So much amazing food!

+ 1 TBR: Operation: Gros Michel by SquadOfCats | 358K, E

Author's summary: “It starts with bananas. Of course, it's not really about the bananas. Just like a camel isn't bothered by one single straw, just like a dam doesn't break because of one extra drop. Obviously, Steve's mental breakdown isn't about bananas.”

Steve is overwhelmed and hanging by a thread, doing his best to take care of Bucky while still deeply traumatized himself. He finally has a breakdown over the stupidest of things: bananas. So Bucky takes care of him.

In which Steve learns to surf, Bucky becomes a gardener, and they both begin to heal.

Post-CA:TWS canon divergent. No, I did not make a mistake, the word count for this story really does come in at an impressive (or intimidating, you decide) 358,225 words! Which is the only reason why I haven't read it yet. I do want to make time for this asap because the snippets I've read so far were very intriguing and everything I've heard about it from people who have finished it, sounds absolutely amazing. So, this is the wild card pick!

Happy reading! <3

[ruporas]

apologies if you've already been asked this but do you have any favorite trigun fics? i absolutely adore your art btw!

thank you!!! and i've answered this on insta, but i don't think i've ever shared on tumblr... i'm not good at reading fics, esp long ones, because my attention span is pretty bad, but from the ones i have bookmarked, i'll share some that i like in no particular order

hills like white elephants (meet me halfway) - adlvnam

pairing: vashwood word count: 1.1k, sfw, vague post v.10 spoilers ‘I read a story once,’ Vash says, unsure. ‘I’m kind of thinking about it right now.’

i like a lot of adlvnam's fics, i find them very unique and creative in their execution, and their writing is wonderful! this was the first fic i've read from them and it's stuck with me ever since. others that i like from them are in manus tuas (no spoilers) and vox dei (warning for post vol.10 spoilers).

stay - Anonymous

pairing: vashwood word count: 2.3k, sfw, no spoilers “Hold up,” Vash groans. He presses his free hand to Wolfwood’s mouth and shushes him. He’s probably going for a stern look, though between his poor attempts to stop grinning like the biggest idiot this side of the planet and the way he’s patting him, it’s hard to take him seriously. “Stop laughin’. Where’s the keys?” “What keys?” Wolfwood tries to ask, muffled by Vash’s hand, and his tongue is a little thick and slow in his mouth so… something comes out, but it’s probably not very wordy. Word-like. Not a sentence, probably. (or, wolfwood and vash get drunk, bicker, and then share a bed together.)

i enjoyed the mundanity and silliness of this fic and i think about it from time to time... i think fics where one of them or both drink together are pleasant to read.

Last Summer - varilien

pairing: vashwood word count: 741, sfw, no spoilers You are what you love.

tags on this one are "sunrises, morning routines, coffee, sentimental" which caught my attention. very sweet and beautiful.

Rain - Kokohamstar

pairing: none, wolfwood centric word count: 768, sfw, major spoilers - post v.10 Ever since he was a little kid listening to Bible stories, he dreamed of the day the world would be washed clean and wondered what the rain would feel like on his face.

as most wolfwood centric fics, it was a gutpunch and melancholic, but still soooo.. augh.... the last paragraph really does it for me.

water bucket blues - fathomfive

pairing: vashwood word count: 3.7k, sfw, major spoilers, post trimax Vash the Stampede goes on the record about a friend he once had. Also about card games, cats, family, and some other things. "Start with a piece of the whole, Meryl said. It doesn’t have to be the first piece. Start with a specific. That’s what they mean when they throw around the words human interest. I know the pieces. Believing they make a whole is another thing. But she’s a broadcast professional and I trust her advice. Maybe if I can figure out how to tell one piece—like the story of Wolfwood as I knew him—I can learn how to tell the others."

i love vash pov fics and i love it when it's first person and this one in particular hits because it's his pov and he speaks, honestly, openly, telling a tale that he can't really flub because it's about the people he loved. i love how grounded this fic is in the present of max, i love how vash grows within the 3.7k words, i love how he moves forward with the world he's living in. this fic makes me teary if i think too much about it... it's really wonderful.

it’s a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world - goldenglitz

pairing: vashwood word count: 3.9k, nsfw, no spoilers Vash has the lung capacity of a man who’s cried for 150 years. It isn't like Wolfwood takes more than he gives — but like with most things, he barely keeps up with Vash. He works his body to the limit, even as his lungs burn and his legs and arms give out under him. They fuck like they’re on borrowed time. All of this makes it so easy — so much easier than just talking. Wolfwood would sometimes rather pull new and interesting noises from Vash with just his mouth than do anything else with it. Their own dialect: moans, groans, and four words. “Yes” — “Please” — “Vash” — “Wolfwood.”

i love all of their vashwood fics, they only have 3 but they're all lovely and has a sort of characterization to both vash and wolfwood i don't see often. definitely one of my faves, especially when it comes to explicit vw fics.

i think these are all the ones i'll share for now!!

[taldigi]

Short request to pretty please link to your fav Ng+ fics I'm so intrigued by the Nanako & Yu Dungeon Swap and IT Saki (but if there's others unmentioned you can link em too)....clasping my hands like a woman at church (I also love Ng+ fics I just never know how to search)

Yeah okay!! Here, give me a sec to see what I can find/recall. Im literally going though almost every fic in the souyo tag ao3 (even if the description doesn't grab me) rn so... Warning that the lot of them are mostly unfinished. But a lot of em at least reach new years. Regrow: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935223

OK so I actually stumbled across this one looong after I made my own AU, but it's funny that some cross over...! like Priestess!Yosuke and Lovers!Teddie. Star!Yu calls himself Purrci! I love him!!! And omg.. the way that Saki-- no.. I shant say....

Canon Divergence:https://archiveofourown.org/works/9549326

I really liked this one. I like how Yu is handled and the divergences made are fantastic. Yu's a mess! I love a mess of a Yu.

the truth of my life: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326319/chapters/45972238

This is the one I mentioned earlier + the one vaugeposted about. THIS has an INCREDIBLY COOL Yu dungeon with a LOT OF TIE IN WITH IZANAGI its SO WELL THOUGHT OUT AAA- The Ghosts That We Knew Will Flicker From View: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50450833/chapters/127472617

"IF you were a girl I'd date you" except he's still bisexual dsiaster yosuke hanamura: the fan-written fiction. This one is just fun, I know it straightifies Souyo but I think it's... REALLY interesting!!!! like how the shift in dynamics is explored not only with them, but with the other members as well(clenches fist and sobs gently... big sister yu....). Shout out to Yu for not only taking it in stride but using it as an excuse to destroy youske... which is the best choice in any given scenario!

there are moooore somewhere but my history is.. big. Im lazy. ANWYAAAYYYY hope this helps!!!!

top favorite themes: 1. Oh my god nanako is alive I'm so fucking happy but idk if I want to cry because of that or because she's back to being nervous around me. 2. Yu stopping Youske from crashing and it results in him being able to return the DVD intact... only for Chie to rope him into food anyway. Ace dynamic actually. Time can't stop their bullshit. 3. IT Saki :) ALWAYS IT Saki.

p5 Honorable Mention: Take Yer Time, You’re Gonna Need it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/51245104

I love all my children equally. But TYT is my favorite son. (I usually drop what I'm doing once I get that notification...) Ryuji-centric? NG+? Pegoryu???? An actual attack dog Akechi??? What more can you want...

[fastcardotmp3]

🌻august bookshelf🌻

july recs | recs tag

I really enjoyed putting together a little fic rec list at the end of last month and decided to do it again!

🌻driving in your car by @kkpwnall - when I say the ultimate pining Steddie fic I MEAN IT. the use of the car as this sort of central, grounding force within Steve's world and the way the testing of his tether to Hawkins and the people in it plays out here is stunning, not to mention the HANDS and the ronance going on stage left and the complete and utter tenderness lying just beneath the surface. perfection I am swallowing it whole

🌻clueless by @gothbat99 - such a lovely short & sweet slice of life in the summer after they win the war, it feels SO important in its simplicity that Nancy and Robin are getting to behave like young people, all free and hopeful and discovering how to want/ be wanted. made my heart so big and warm in only 1k words like THAT !!! is so impressive, so worth your time, will make your day better guaranteed

🌻Faces Freedom with a Little Fear by @fragilecapric0rnn - literally Steve family-centric character study of all time, come swoon over big sister JJ Harrington and watch as her presence in his life creates a fullness and richness of growth and self-realization LIKE. I could bask in this world for the rest of forever and never get tired of its sincerity and depth and siblingisms, what a heart-squeezing delight from start to finish

🌻haunted hawkins by @hellsfireclub - starts with the brilliant premise of "what if it's not just Hawkins?" and RUNS with it, giving not just beautiful ruminations on both Nancy and Robin as they start a journey towards figuring out just how far the paranormal spreads and also a journey towards mutual self discovery and (: lesbianism (: READ THIS FIC.

🌻then I see you, you're walking 'cross the campus by stellarpoint (@heybluechild) - a lovely little peek at Steve and Nancy's friendship coming back together after they've come into their own a little bit and Nancy being so, so brave in coming out to him. truly this made my heart so big and full and warm i am carrying them gently in the palms of my hands

🌻this must be the place by @judasofsuburbia - JARGYLE CAMPING. the tenderness of this, the peace offered to Jonathan when he hasn't ever really known such a thing, the way they just sort of slot together and find and choose and become each other?? it's got me all soft in the heart and THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. illegal actually. I'm weak in the knees :((

🌻Young, Scrappy, & Hungry by @fragilecapric0rnn - politics ronance rivals to lovers WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?? perfect dynamics already and I can't wait to see where these girls go. the characterizations of them is so REAL despite the very different world of Washington they've been dropped into and my lesbian, TWW-loving ass is feeling soooo normal about them SO normal don't worry about it

🌻The Warmth Pulls by TheDeathsWish - I'm not fully caught up on this one yet, but it is genuinely one of the most unique AUs I've come across so I have to mention it here. It's still 1986 and it's still Hawkins, but the sci-fi overlay is switched out for more purely fantasy elements, including some very cool and beautifully revealed eccentricities and abilities of the characters. Steddie but also so hugely dependent on the ensemble of it all, which you know I eat up, I'm excited to keep working my way through this one!

P.S. if you read and enjoy any of these, please remember to tip your writers in kudos and comments!💛

[mcytblrconfessions]

*sighs in sadness* Ocean Queen Lizzie you were too good a character to be released onto the masses who couldn't characterize you well in fanfiction to save your life :(

The joy your story brought me (self-proclaimed number one Ocean Queen fan /hj) is immense, but it does not cancel out the multitudes of fanfiction flattening you into a hollow shell of yourself who only exists as an extension of the men in your life, clogging the LDShadowLady fandom tag and making it nigh-impossible to fin the (rare) fic in which Lizzie is in-character

And trust me, I know. My experiences are born out of pain and sorrow. Deep in the clutches of hyperfixation, I checked the LDShadowLady tag several times every day for months, no filters. I looked at every fic in the tag, and the backlog of fics. I read every fic in the tag, with only a few exceptions for the most truly unstomachable fic. Even as my hyperfixation loosened, I still checked the LDShadowLady tag often, and scrolled through the backlog. I still read every Lizzie centric fic I can find, and a lot that isn't. I still am on a constant search for good Lizzie fic (please: anyone want to recommend any fics? I'm sure there's stuff I'm missing/missed/forgot to bookmark! she doesn't have to be the main character, just significant!)

I have gazed into the abyss. I have absorbed the scope of it. I have written fic on my own.

And yet: the problem is less with the lack of Lizzie fics, and more with the bad ones, the ones that don't actually feature her in any real capacity, which becomes easy to see once you've read a lot of them noticed the pattern, just a combination of sidelining, of mischaracterization, and mischaracterization by omission, that trap that is so easy to fall into.

I can forgive fandom for this to an extent. No fic writer is perfect, this is about the collective patterns. But after a certain point, it starts becoming harder to ignore: the way she is written into fics only to warp around c!Jimmy (sometimes other male characters) with zero regard for her interiority, her agency, her struggles, her potential, in fics that give male side characters these things.

The way she is ignored varies. Sometimes it is the most blatant examples: she is put in a situation in which multiple canon traits/opinions/experiences of hers would obviously be relevant, but all are ignored except supportive sister. Sometimes it is more subtle: it iisn't a plot hole that her being a supportive sister/caring/"strong woman girlboss" (in the way that doesn't actually give her any agency or depth or plot importance, she's still a flat character only there for support, but actually we only write her as a personw with no interior depth or anything interesting bc she's just so cool and competent and perfect there aren't any problems that give us reasons to focus on her or give her like, a character arc or something) is the only thing that comes up in the au, but the fact that the author didn't find anything else about her interesting or worthy of show, never considered showing her in more depth, giving her an arc, giving her choices to make, the fact that over and over again authors decide that the only reason to show her is if she's supporting a guy, grates a whole fucking lot. Mostly, it is more subtle but once you see it you will never stop unseeing it. I try to repeat it but I just sound like a broken record.

Am I going insane for noticing this when nobody else seems to? I worry that, even being mad mostly at the trend and not the individual writers, I am still somehow being too unfair to them. I check my line of thought over and over. Then, once again, I am reading a fic and I can't stop thinking about how it's another fic in the pattern, and I try to find something that isn't and it takes me pages and pages, and I am so angry again. Death by a thousand pinpricks. Driven insane by a thousand lackluster Lizzie portrayals.

It's hard not to feel crazy. People like the Ocean Queen! People don't dislike her character! She just slowly gets flattened, over and over. Never any interest in her depths. (yes I am ocean punning at a time like this)

I am awash in a sea of misery. Every day I think of her and I wish for a world where people liked her better. Where she was the character with a million fics exploring her potential. I think about it and I think about her and I think about my fic for her and the good fics I've read for her and I open another fic where Lizzie is tagged and I hope.

(The pain these fics bring me is immense but the joy I feel about the character is greater, at least. Mostly I think about that. Two sides to everything, how unfortunate/lucky)

Ocean Queen I love you.

[sangrefae]

🌷 Writing Patterns 🌷

i was tagged by my bff @sangrientojoe tysm..... 💖💖💖

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

i only have 8 published works, discounting the two fics that are a collection of scattered drabbles, so i'll include two exclusive wip lines to make it 10 dfhbfjkdbfg

"'It's this challenge, apparently, a test of your restraint or some such bullshite...'" (FFXIV: in the purgatory of my hips [18+], unfortunately indefinitely TBC until i feel motivation again ghjkl;)

"Though having only closed them for a fraction of a heartbeat, Elinor opens his eyes to an entirely unfamiliar world." (FFXIV: a bit of chemical haze)

"Elinor stares at his hands as he sits in the grass outside Stillglade Fane, waiting." (FFXIV: i love you for psychological reasons)

"The wind around them howls, buffeting Shrimme and making it that much more difficult to find her quarry. A moment longer, though, and she quickly spots it; a victorious noise in the back of her throat, she reaches to grab the last frosty stalks left behind by the icetrap she'd hit with the aetheromatic auger and dutifully stuffs them into her bag." (FFXIV: a fever you can't sweat out, a comm'ed fic for @radicrow [18+])

"The large double doors that stand as the entrance to Skysteel Manufactory close behind Aymeric with a clatter, briefly overtaking the rhythmic racket of machinery that near constantly fill the air. It's a distinctive enough sound around the western parts of Foundation, enough so that some residents complain of the incessant clatter, but Aymeric has never found reason to draw close enough for it to have any effect on him." (FFXIV: wine and dine [18+])

"Stephanivien woke again to the sound of crying." (FFXIV: and i believe that you will see a better day)

"The steady bounce of the chocobo's running gait soothes something within F'toren, the rocking sensation steeling his nerves. Behind him, he can hear Haurchefant's chocobo keeping up the pushed pace, his love's voice still clear through the cleaving wind of the approaching storm. Toren shivers, his shoulders raising and ears flattening against his head as if to protect himself from the biting chill, and urges the bird forward." (FFXIV: acts of servitude, a gift fic for elliekat on ao3 [18+])

"For all his years being the Ishgardian Prince’s personal guard, Aymeric had never been able to see Ser Estinien Wyrmblood’s face." (FFXIV: steel blue, a gift fic for petrarchanconceit on ao3)

"Falin smiles softly at the older kobold woman as she approaches the worn counter, key in hand and bags slung carelessly over her shoulder. It's still early, but the dim space of the tavern is marked by the bustle of activity; carefully, Falin makes her way across the floor, murmuring apologies and excusing herself as she pushes past bodies." (dungeon meshi: unnamed WIP, centered around Falin during her travels after the manga finishes)

"For all intents and purposes, it's a perfectly normal omelet. The egg is nice and fluffy, rolled expertly into bite-sized portions easy to pick up. Beyond the dubious sourcing of the eggs themselves, the plate is clean, the pot they had been cooked on as sanitary as he could hope for, and nothing looks especially suspicious or threatening." (dungeon meshi: i'm sick of swallowing stones, a kabru-centric WIP focused on his issues w food and eating)

as for patterns...... i either go with a one-liner to try and get over the hurdle of Starting the story OR i do a little scene description. i kind of just. jump straight into the action no matter what though bc otherwise i'll get too off-track LMAO

i tag @scriberat @vesperaevis @lavampira @athina-blaine @solibrie and anyone else who wants to do this ehehe

[suguwu]

lover be good to me: part four

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

masterlist

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: we are finally at the end. thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me. this fic truly is dear to me and i can't believe it's finally done.

as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.

title and part title are from hozier’s “be”

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.

wc: 12k

You settle into the farmhouse. 

It’s easier than you thought. Maybe it’s the way Yoshida is brusque but kind; she’s not careful with you. It’s a refreshing change of pace. 

You find yourself at her side most nights, chopping vegetables or marinating tofu as she tells you about growing up in the country. She spins stories like thread, weaving them together like the expert seamstress she is. Her son joins in some nights too.

You still get lost sometimes, though.

The early mornings are the worst. 

The birds sing you to wakefulness, their song high and trilling, and you press your face into the pillow with a groan. “Loud. Shut the window, Aoshi,” you mumble, shoving out at him. Your hand hits empty space and your brow scrunches. You push to your elbows and find a room that’s not your own, though you blearily recognize the suitcase tucked into the closet. 

You shift on the bed and realize it’s too small. A twin.

It all comes pouring back in. 

“Fuck,” you say, low and quiet. The tears pool in your eyes, burning hot, and you try to blink them back to no avail. You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead as you lie back down. 

You do not move for a very long time.

The world has gone blue when there’s a knock on your door, twilight settling in like the ocean tide, easing its way across the sky. You don’t answer. Another knock comes and then there’s Kita’s voice murmuring your name.

You almost ignore him. But there’s something in his voice you can’t resist, a melancholy thread woven in through the syllables of your name. You get to your feet and open the door.

Kita studies you for a moment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You blink. “Go where?”

“My place. I’m cookin’.” 

“Shinsuke—”

“I know.”

You bite at your lower lip. Kita meets your gaze steadily, his amber eyes darkened to a deep, sweet brown by the dim lighting. There’s a promise in them too. 

“Okay,” you say at last. “Let me get dressed.”

He waits downstairs as you throw on some clothes. You can hear him talking quietly to Yoshida. He gives you a little smile when you join him at the genkan. 

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

It’s true autumn now and the slight chill in the air proves it. The rice stalks are spun gold, swaying in the wind as the truck trundles down the road to Kita’s farm. You watch a stork wade carefully through the fields. It dips down with its long, elegant neck and disappears from sight. 

The radio is playing quietly. Kita hums along with it sometimes, mostly at the old, crooning ballads. You watch the countryside roll by, the farmhouses little ships in the night, their lit windows a beacon as dusk falls. 

He bundles you into the farmhouse when you arrive, handing you a pair of house slippers that have little radishes on them. You can’t help your smile. 

You follow him into the living room and settle at the kotatsu when he points you there. It’s close enough that you can see into the kitchen through the open archway; he rolls up his sleeves and starts gathering ingredients from the fridge and the pantry.

“Can I help?” you ask after a few minutes, getting to your feet and joining him.

“Sure,” he says, handing you a freshly-washed daikon. “Slice that real thin, please.”

You make a cut. “This thin enough?”

He peers over. “A little thinner,” he says. “Can I?”

You nod and he takes your hands briefly, guiding them to the thinness he wants and pressing down. His hands are warm, his fingers and palm rough with calluses that catch lightly against your skin. He curls his fingers around yours, his tendons going taut, and pushes down. The knife slides through the daikon and stops against the cutting board. 

“There,” he says. “Like that.” 

“Okay.”

He nods and heads back to his cutting board which is laden down with a bright medley of varying vegetables. “What’re you doin’ tomorrow?'' he asks.

“Nothing,” you say. “Why?”

You sound more defensive than you mean to. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sharp flicker of amber, but says nothing. 

“Was thinking you could come out to the fields with me.”

“I don’t know,” you say.

“It’d be good for you to get outside,” he says mildly. “Rather than being up in yer room all day.” 

Your knife thunks against the cutting board. Kita is unperturbed, only glancing your way briefly to make sure you’re not injured. He goes back to peeling carrots, his lean, strong hands moving quickly and with steady confidence. 

You study him for a moment, taking in the set of his lips and the soft furrow of his brow. You sigh.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll come.”

He flashes you a tiny quirk of his lips, a smile that’s as fleeting as a summer storm and just as warm. 

“Good.” 

He keeps cooking as he talks, pulling you from your thoughts when you get lost in them, when the fog starts to roll back in like a marine layer. It’s uncanny, how well he can tell when you’ve been set adrift. He’s a mooring you didn’t know you needed. 

Kita hums his thanks as you give him the daikon. He slips them into a pickling mix before handing you a cucumber. 

“Peel and cut thin?” you ask.

“Yup.” 

As you peel, you can’t help but watch as he moves about the kitchen. He moves as efficiently as ever, no wasted movement, but there’s something soft to it too. You can’t quite pin it down. 

“Yer staring.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.” 

You shrug, starting to cut up the cucumber. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing important,” you say, waving him off. “Tell me how Aran is doing, he and I haven’t talked for a while.” 

The rest of the cooking goes by quickly as you talk and soon you’re both settled at the kotatsu. It’s radiating warmth. You snuggle deeper into it; with the sun fully set, it’s grown even more chilly outside despite the heat of the day. Winter is still a ways off, but you can feel the first touch of it hidden in the autumn breeze that leaks in through the window Kita had left cracked to keep the kitchen from overheating. 

You glance over the food. Kita’s kept it simple but hearty. There’s steam curling through the air in little smoky wisps. You watch as it dissipates and then take the plate that Kita hands you with a small thank you.

It’s a good meal. The two of you talk through it with ease, never missing a beat and rarely with an awkward pause. When you lapse into silence, it’s comfortable. 

“I should go,” you say eventually, glancing at the clock. “I don’t want to wake Yoshida when I come in.”

“Alright.” 

He drives you home, the headlights of his truck cutting through the night. The moon is out now; it bathes the fields with light until they practically shimmer. The crickets are calling, their song audible even over the low purr of the truck’s engine. 

When you pull up to Yoshida’s, there’s a light still on at the engawa, a soft glow to lead you home. It warms something in you.

Kita walks you to the door. 

“How early do I have to get up tomorrow?” you ask. “Do I even want to know?”

He laughs quietly. “Ya don’t need to keep my schedule,” he says. “I’ll come get you after lunch.” 

“Okay.”

He looks at you. His usual stoicness has faded into something warm and open; you take a deep breath. You bid him a quiet goodnight that he returns just as quietly, his amber eyes knowing. 

You go to sleep with your hand wrapped around your wedding rings. 

***

“Sunscreen,” Kita says, holding out the tube to you. 

“I know, I know,” you grouse, taking it from him. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“You forgot last time.”

“Point taken.” 

You apply the sunscreen as he gathers what he needs. He’s still rustling around when you finish. You turn your face up to the sun, letting the rays brush over your skin like a lover, a sweet kiss of heat. 

When you open your eyes again, Kita is watching you with a tiny smile, a crescent moon of a thing. Something in you pangs. 

You glance away from him and look to the rolling fields instead. In the bright sunlight, they’re Midas-touched, scorched gold with a hint of green at the bottom of each stem. It’s a sea of rice, rippling in the breeze like kelp caught in the ocean’s current, and it’s beautiful in a way that makes you feel small. 

Kita comes up beside you and gazes at his farm.

“It’s pretty,” you tell him.

“It’s gotta get cut,” he says.

“I know.”

He glances at you. You blink as he reaches out and smudges his thumb against your cheek. It’s gentle, his touch careful despite the rough calluses on the pad of his thumb. “Ya missed some sunscreen,” he says, rubbing it in with a light sweep. He lingers for a moment before pulling away.

“Oh. Thanks,” you say, biting at your lower lip as he turns away.

“C’mon,” Kita says. 

You follow him deep into the field, to a swath of already cleared land. The two of you settle at the edge of it. You watch as he lays out a woven bag with a label stamped on the front of it. He crouches down by the nearest stems of uncut rice and runs a hand over them, thumbing at the panicles with a deft movement. 

You don’t think he knows he’s smiling. 

“What do you want me to do?” you ask.

He glances back at you. “Can you lay out the bags? One at each pole should do.” 

You nod and set to work. He starts cutting at the rice. He makes it look easy, slicing through the stems as if they’re butter. The rice stalks start to pile up beside him as you make your way down the field with the bags. 

He’s made a significant dent by the time you’re back. He leans back on his heels as you approach again, wiping off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hair is clinging to him, dark with sweat, deepening the color to slate gray, like the winter sea. He smiles at you. 

“Can I try again?”

He’d taught you how to cut last time after you asked, citing the fact that you’ve been coming to the field with him for almost two weeks without trying. 

“Sure,” he says. He hands you a pair of gloves; you slip them on. “D’ya remember how to hold it?”

You kneel next to him, wrapping your fingers around a handful of stems. “Like this, yeah?”

“Thumb pointing up,” he says, reaching out and adjusting your grip. “And tighter.” 

He tightens his grip around your hand to show you, his strong fingers flexing. You copy him and he lets go when he’s satisfied with your grip. He hands you the knife—curved with a wicked edge—and sits back on his heels again.

“15 centimeters, yeah?” you ask, setting the edge of the knife against the stalks there.

“That’ll work.” 

You slice in a downward angle; the stalks part beneath the blade like silk. You hand off the rice to him to add to the pile. You keep working, feeling the sweat start to gather on your back, a few droplets rolling down before getting absorbed by your shirt.

“Good,” he says.

He lets you do a few more handfuls before he takes the knife back. You watch him work. He’s much quicker than you, moving with an easy grace.

“Why don’t ya head back to the truck,” he says, slicing through another handful of stalks. “I’m almost done.” 

You listen to him, heading back to the truck and settling in the bed of it, swinging your feet off the edge. You lay back and turn your gaze up to the sky, watching as a flock of birds goes soaring past, their wings dark against the deep blue of the sky. 

Kita joins you after a bit. You’ve been watching a hawk circle, riding the current high above you, and you don’t bother to sit up when you hear him approaching. 

He climbs up into the truck bed. He settles next to you and then lays down beside you, staring up at the sky with you. 

The two of you are quiet. You watch as the hawk wheels and wheels overhead before it dives down, dropping like a shooting star through the sky. 

You turn towards him; he’s already looking at you. His amber eyes are soft and you suck in a breath, your stomach flipping. 

“Shinsuke,” you say gently. “You know I can’t give you what you want, right?”

“I’m not askin’ you for anything,” he says, just as gently.

“I know. I just—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, with Aoshi gone.”

He studies you for a moment. Then he smiles, warm and sweet and a little bit sad. 

“It’s always what you’re willing to give,” he says. “Nothing more and nothing less. That’s the only idea I have.”

You suck in a breath, fidgeting with your sleeve.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

You both go quiet again. 

Kita pushes up to his elbows; you peer up at him.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get going.”

“‘Kay.” 

He hops down from the truck bed gracefully before holding out a hand to help you down. You hesitate. He waits patiently, looking up at you. You take his hand without a word, his calluses rough against your palm.

You’re both quiet on the drive back to Yoshida’s. You spend the time looking out the window, watching the fields roll by. There are other farmers still hard at work, their blades flashing in the last dregs of the sunlight, like a dance. It’s a sight you never tire of. 

The sun has almost set by the time Kita drops you off. You toe off your shoes in the genkan and find Yoshida in the kitchen, scrubbing down the counter. There’s something savory in the air, rich and thick, and you spot a pot bubbling away on the stovetop, steam curling up from it like smoke. 

She eyes you for a moment. You don’t know what she sees in your face, but she gestures you into a seat.

“The fields are doing ya some good,” she says, her eyes still on the soapy counter.

“Are they?”

She nods decisively. “Yer different. You’re coming back to the world.”

You bite at your lip, worrying the flesh between your teeth. It doesn’t feel like it to you; some days you think you’ll never be in step with the world again, destined to always be just a few paces behind. 

“It’s hard to see it in yerself,” Yoshida says. “But it’s there.” 

“If you say so.”

“I do.” 

You can’t help the smile. A smile blooms on her lips too, small but sure. 

“I need to weed tomorrow. Could use your help, unless Shin-chan is going to steal you away again.”

“I’ll help,” you say, ignoring the last bit.

She studies you with keen eyes, opening her mouth to say something, but the front door opens and her son calls out a greeting. 

The rest of the night is quiet and morning comes before you know it.

You stare up at the ceiling as the sun rises, watery light leaking in through the sheer curtains. For a moment, you consider rolling over and going back to bed, but you can hear Yoshida shuffling around in her room. You resign yourself to getting up for the day.

A light breakfast later, you’re on your knees in the garden. The soil is still wet with morning dew and it sticks to your skin. The scent of wet loam rises around you, like the earth is welcoming you home. You let it fill your lungs.

The garden is a beautiful one, lush with autumn vegetables. You weed around the fat, sunshine yellow squashes, each one brighter than the last. The carrots are just peeking above the soil, little suns creeping up over the horizon. Their greens sway gently in the breeze. 

You’ve forgone gardening gloves despite Yoshida’s offer. It feels good to sink your fingers into the dirt, to pinch the weeds’ roots and pull them up gently. 

You’re still working when Kita’s truck trundles up the driveway. You sit back on your haunches and wipe the sweat from your brow as he gets out and comes your way.

“Hi,” he says with a little smile. “Hard at work, I see.”

“Gotta earn my keep,” you say, earning a snort from Yoshida who is working just a garden bed over.

“You have time for a break?”

“Depends,” you say, glancing at the bag he’s carrying. “Are those snacks?”

“Yup.” 

“Then I do,” you say, pushing to your feet. “Let me go wash my hands.” 

You eat together on the engawa, gazing out into the farmland. The wind chimes rustle above you, clinking lightly, a crystalline symphony just for the two of you. You sit back on your hands as Kita unpacks what he’s brought. 

It’s onigiri. They’re still warm, steam curling up from them when you break one open. A little bit of the filling spills out but you’re quick to catch it on your thumb, popping it into your mouth. 

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “They’re good.”

“Yer welcome.” 

“You take care of me so well,” you say with a little laugh. 

“I try,” he says, utterly serious. 

You flinch. It’s tiny, but from the way his gaze finds you, a firefly flicker, he notices. But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to take another bite of his onigiri. 

“Shin-chan,” Yoshida calls. “Come help an old woman with the watering.” 

You glance up to see that she’s heaving a full bucket of water towards the garden. Kita pushes to his feet immediately, crossing to her in a few easy strides. He takes the bucket without even pausing, lifting it with a single hand. 

“Granny,” he chides. “Ya could’ve gotten hurt.” 

She shrugs. He follows her to the garden beds, glancing back to send you a little smile. You watch him as he carefully waters the garden under Yoshida’s rigid instructions. The sun catches in his hair, bronzes his tanned skin. That same smile he’d flashed you lives on his lips, a quiet contentment tucked up secret into the corner of his mouth.

Kita comes back to you when he’s finished watering, settling at your side on the engawa once more. He eats the rest of his onigiri quickly. 

“I’ve gotta get back to the fields,” he tells you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Go do your job.”

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with it.

He leaves soon after. You watch him go, until all you can see of his truck is the cloud of dust being kicked up behind it, until the horizon swallows him. 

Yoshida stands next to you on the engawa, shading her eyes as she watches him go too. 

“He’s a good man,” she says casually.

You glance at her. 

“He is.” 

“You could do much worse in a man.”

“It’s not like that.”

She raises a brow.

“It’s not. It’s just…complicated,” you say, winding your fingers through your necklace’s chain. Your rings clink against each other softly, the sound lost in the myriad of wind chimes surrounding you. For a moment you drift, tears pricking at your eyes before you blink them away.

“‘Course it is,” she says. “Most things are. But ah, pay no mind to an old lady. Let’s go harvest some of the squash.” 

You spend the rest of the day in the garden, harvesting away. The first frost isn’t too far off and you need to make sure you don’t lose any of the vegetables to it. Yoshida tells you exactly what to pick and what to leave. 

Night falls and you cook the first of the squash, painting it with a sweetened miso glaze that gleams stickily as you serve it. Yoshida makes a few side dishes too, putting them in pretty kobachi dishes. They’re delicate things, the soft silver of the moon, and you find yourself thinking of Kita. 

You shake yourself free of the thought before it fully forms. Yoshida’s son pulls you into a conversation and you chatter the night away, until you’re yawning between sentences. You finally trudge up to your room. 

The window lets in the faintest hint of gossamer moonlight. You gaze out into the night, into the endless countryside. You can just barely make out the next farmhouse, a lighthouse in the sea of darkness, its lights glittering on the very edge of the horizon. 

It looks lonely. You think of Kita again, of the little island of his farmhouse, how it’s tucked between the paddies with no other home in sight. You think of him alone at the kotatsu, reading glasses perched on his nose, and feel something in your chest clench.

You pull the curtains shut and go to bed.

***

The rest of the week rolls by and so does the next. It grows colder each day, winter’s first kiss. The leaves are going orange, as if little fires are catching the edges. It sets the trees ablaze with color. You hop from leaf to leaf as you and Kita walk along the road, delighting in each little crunch. 

“Having fun?” he calls out.

You turn around to face him, shading your eyes with one hand. His more sedate pace has left him lagging, but he’s quickly catching up now that you’ve stopped. “Can’t you tell?”

His breath mists in the air, a marine layer, and his lips quirk up into a little smile. “I can,” he says. “Just be careful, yeah? There’s still some frost lingering.”

You hum an acknowledgement and stomp on your next leaf. He chuckles quietly and you fall back to walk with him, shoving your hands into your pockets to ward off the cold. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “You know my sabbatical is almost over, right?”

He nods. “I know.”

“I think I’m gonna go home midweek next week,” you say. “Just to give myself some time to settle before I have to go back to work.” 

“Makes sense,” he says. “Let me know the details and I’ll get you to the station.” 

The two of you keep walking, huddling into each other slightly when the wind picks up. Some of his hair wisps across your face, the touch like silk against your skin. You shiver with it and return your gaze to the countryside, to the rolling hills and the shorn paddies. 

One or two of the trees are already fully bare; they reach towards the sky with long-fingered branches. There’s a murmur of swallows nestled in the nearest one, so numerous it’s as if the tree has leaves again. As you watch, they take to the skies, undulating through the soft gray-blue of it. 

“I’ll miss it,” you say softly.

“Bein’ here?”

“Yeah.” 

“Ya can come back anytime, y’know. There’s always a place for you.” 

You glance at him. His stoic face has softened and you think of the thaw of a spring day. How the quiet warmth of it melts the chill away. 

“Thanks, Shinsuke.”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you walk together quietly before turning around to head back to Kita’s farm when the chilly breeze becomes a whistling wind. It whips through the fields to cut through your clothing and you press into Kita without thinking, seeking the warmth of his solid form. He unwinds his scarf and drapes it around your neck; you don’t bother to protest. He’s immovable about things like this. Instead, you burrow into the warmth of it. 

You all but tumble into the genkan of the farmhouse. Kita follows you at a more sedate pace. You toe off your shoes and slip on your usual pair of house slippers. He does the same and you watch as he puts his shoes away carefully, arranging them perfectly within the cubby. 

You both settle at the kotatsu, huddling under the thick down of the blanket. You trace a finger over one of the origami cranes patterned into it. They’re perfect, so different from the clumsy paper cranes you’d both made with some of the local children the other day. 

Kita turns on the kotatsu. It starts to warm almost immediately and you sink into the heat of it with a quiet sigh.

“What’re you smiling about?” you ask him.

“You,” he says simply. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay,” you say. 

“D’ya want tea?” 

“Sure.”

He slips out from under the kotatsu and heads into the kitchen. You turn enough that you can still see him; you like watching him make tea. He’s careful and respectful of the process from beginning to end, but you like how it loosens his shoulders, how he unfurls, a night-blooming flower.

He rejoins you at the kotatsu once the tea is made, handing you a steaming cup. The scent of it billows through the air. When you sip at the tea, it settles warm in your chest, pushing out the autumn chill. 

“You’ll have to teach me how to make tea like this,” you tell Kita. 

He smiles into his cup. “It’s not hard.”

“Says you.”

“Might not have time to teach you before you go,” he says with a frown. “The farm—”

“You can teach me when you visit.” You pause. “You will visit, right?” 

“Of course.”

“Good,” you say, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You can teach me then.”

He agrees and the conversation flows until it’s late. You peer out into the darkness and see the moon—full-bellied with light—is beginning to set, sinking through the dark ocean of the sky like an anchor. 

“Shit,” you say. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“S’fine,” Kita says. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, I know. Ugh, I’m gonna wake up Yoshida when I get in.”

“You can stay, y’know.” 

You glance at him. He meets your gaze steadily.

“I have a guest room,” he reminds you. 

“Okay,” you say after a moment. “Okay.”

“You’ll have to get up early, though.”

“That’s fine.” 

He smiles softly. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s finish cleaning up.”

You clean up the kotatsu quickly; despite the late hour, Kita still takes the time to wash the dishes. He washes them with careful concentration and something in your chest pangs. 

“Go ahead to the guest room,” he says. “‘M almost done here. I’ll see if I can find you somethin’ to sleep in.” 

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.”

The guest room is homey, with a handmade quilt patterned with rice plants that almost look like they’re rippling in the wind. You trace a finger over one of them as you glance around the rest of the room, taking in the way the stark cleanliness is offset by the items scattered about: the fan patterned with cherry blossoms hanging on the wall; the plant at the window, lush despite the season; a paperweight on the desk, glass swirled through with blue and white, the ocean roiling within it. It’s not quite Kita, but you can sense him in it all the same. 

Kita knocks on the door frame. You turn to look at him. “Here,” he says, holding out a toothbrush and toothpaste. “Thought you might need these.”

“Thanks,” you say, sending him a little smile. “Appreciate it.”

“‘Course.” 

“Night, Shinsuke.”

“G’night,” he says. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

He disappears into his room.

You get ready for bed and slide under the covers. The quilt is heavy and warmth builds quickly under it, like a banked fire. You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the moonlight slanting in through the window. The pillowcase smells vaguely like Kita and the simple detergent he uses. 

Sleep comes easily.

So easily that it feels like you’ve only been asleep for a second when Kita’s knocking on the guest room door to rouse you for the day. Blearily, you slip on your clothing before trudging into the kitchen. 

Kita glances up as you enter. His hair is still damp from the shower; it glistens like the gray winter sea beneath a bleak sun. 

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Hi,” you grumble.

He breathes out a quiet laugh. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you home.” 

You drowse on the ride back to Yoshida’s, just aware enough to hear the quiet hum of the radio as it fills the truck’s cab. The sun is starting to rise, the first fingers of light painting the horizon orange, like embers just beginning to catch. You turn away from it, curling into yourself in the front seat. 

The truck rumbling to a halt wakes you. You grouse and Kita laughs again. He doesn’t bother to dodge when you swat at him.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say with a yawn, one hand on the car door’s handle, already looking forward to crawling back into bed. 

“‘Course,” he says. “You always have a place with me.”

You pause. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”

His eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Go to work,” you tell him.

“Yes ma’am.”

You hop out and head to the genkan. You hear the truck rumble to life behind you, the engine practically purring. By the time you make it to the genkan and look back, Kita is already down the road.

You watch until he’s gone from view.

***

This early, the train station is quiet.

The sun is still rising, casting pale golden rays across the parking lot. It haloes Kita in light as he pulls your suitcase from the truck bed, his muscles flexing with the movement. You take it from him and the two of you head towards the platform together.

“Travel safe, alright?” he says when you come to a halt just before the doors. 

“Shinsuke,” you say, “thank you for everything.” 

“Anytime.” 

“You’ll visit?”

“I’ll visit,” he confirms. “You?”

“I’ll come back,” you say. 

“Good.”

He smiles at you, a slow, sweet thing that makes you think of the sun’s rise. It’s steady and sure, unshakeable. 

You throw your arms around him in a hug. He stumbles for a second, caught off guard, but he catches himself quickly and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly. You bury your face in his shoulder. He smells like plain soap, fresh and clean, with the faintest kiss of lemon, a touch of sour citronella that you know he uses for the fields. 

When you pull away, the tips of his ears are pink. 

“Bye, Shinsuke,” you say.

“Bye,” he says softly. 

You head inside the station. When you glance back, you can just make out the silhouette of him, lean and strong. He must be able to see you, because he gives a little wave before he turns away. 

The train is almost empty when you board it and you settle in a window seat. You close your eyes and turn your face towards the sun, the gentle rays just barely starting to warm as they brush against your skin. 

You open your eyes when the train starts to move, peering out of the window as the countryside speeds by. The rice fields are shorn short now but the gold of them hasn’t faded. The remains of the stalks reach towards the great blue sky, two expanses meeting. Beyond the fields, even the hills are going golden, though they’re slower, with green patches scattered across them like lily pads in a pond. 

You think you might be leaving a part of yourself in the expanse of the country. That the fields have swallowed up some part of you, like the earth swallows a seed. It makes something in you pang.

Soon enough, the countryside melts away into the suburbs. Then come the neon lights of the city, streaking by like fireflies, little blips of color that blink to life here and there. 

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. 

The house is quiet when you step into the genkan; only the musical clink of your keys fills the space. The greeting is on the tip of your tongue, but you catch it behind your teeth and swallow it back down. You take in a deep breath and set your suitcase down before brushing by the photos in the entryway, most of them facedown. 

It takes time to unpack. Most of your clothes are clean, but you run a load of laundry anyway, listening to the way the water swishes and spins, the low rumble of it filling the house. You text Kita to let him know you’ve arrived safely and then collapse onto your couch, staring up at the ceiling. 

You don’t know how long you lie there before you hear the door to the house open. Muffled bickering floats to you from the genkan and you push yourself up just as Abe comes barreling around the corner. 

She skids to a stop just before the couch and grins down at you. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply. “Did you break in?”

“No,” Yoshikawa says, appearing from around the corner. She twirls something around her finger; it glints in the light. “Used the spare.”

“It’s funny,” you say. “I don’t remember inviting either of you over.”

She shrugs elegantly, her long hair swaying like kelp in a current. “Did you really think we were going to miss you coming home?”

“No,” you say with a little laugh. “I didn’t.”

“Good.” 

You exchange hugs with both of them, holding them tightly and yelping when Abe spins you in a circle. Yoshikawa is more sedate but her hug is strong and warm. You blink away the tears before they can fall.

The three of you settle into the living room. You catch up with each other easily, swapping stories and laughing together, the sound billowing through the room to fill even the darkest corners with joy. Your heart aches as Abe throws back her head and laughs, her dark hair shimmering in the light, her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

“You’re too easily entertained,” Yoshikawa informs her, but there’s a smile playing at her lips too, downy-soft and deeply pleased.

“Shut up,” Abe says, still giggling. 

For a moment, you just watch them, taking in their features, their smiles, the sound of them. You want to commit them to memory, parts of them that you’ve taken into yourself to treasure, to keep. Pieces never to be lost.

“Hey,” Yoshikawa says. “What’s wrong?”

You realize that your cheeks are hot and wet. You scrub a hand over your face as more tears fall. 

“Nothing,” you say. “I just really missed you.”

She hums, but doesn’t push you on it, sending Abe a look when she opens her mouth. “We missed you too,” she says. “Do you want us to spend the night?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, thinking of how empty the house was before they filled it. “That would be great.”

“Okay.” 

The conversation picks up again, only pausing when you order takeout as night falls. Though you’ve spoken consistently with them while you were in the country, there are still stories to tell. The three of you talk and talk, full of laughter and love, and it only feels a little bittersweet.

As the night deepens, Yoshikawa and Abe go to the genkan and grab the bags they’ve brought, much to your embarrassment. Abe pats you on the shoulder as you bury your face in your hands. Neither of them comment.

You tumble into bed with them in a mess of limbs. When the dust settles, you’re curled up on your side of the bed, almost pushed off the edge by Abe’s starfished limbs. You poke her in the stomach and she curls up with a groan. You reclaim the space quickly.

“Rude,” she tells you. 

“You were taking up the whole bed!”

She grumbles but doesn’t bother to argue. 

Quiet falls, only the gentle sound of breathing filling the room. You snuggle down into your comforter, pushing closer to Abe and relishing her warmth.

“I invited Shinsuke to visit,” you breathe.

Yoshikawa pushes up to her elbows behind Abe, peering down at you with her dark, knowing eyes. 

“Here?” she asks.

You nod, the pillowcase crinkling against your cheek.

She hums, low and sweet, a honeyed thunder. “You’ll let him stay at the house?”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of Takao, the way he’d been flayed open when he asked you to not bring Kita to the house. “Aoshi—”

“Isn’t here,” Yoshikawa says gently. “You don’t have to hold on to that promise if you don’t want to.”

You blink against the tears as they swell up, beading on your eyelashes like little diamonds. Abe reaches out and cups your cheek. 

“You’ll figure it out,” she says softly. “You don’t need to know now.” 

You close your eyes, a few more tears trickling down. The pillowcase is damp beneath your cheek. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re right.” 

“I always am,” she says, and then yelps when Yoshikawa pinches her. “Ow, Yocchan!”

Yoshikawa ignores her, settling back down onto the bed with a yawn.

It’s contagious; you find yourself yawning as well and snuggle down deeper into the comforter once more. Abe shifts closer, seeking heat.

You fall asleep with her pressed tight against your side.

It feels like coming home.

***

Fall fades away.

The trees lose their leaves entirely, leaving branches that reach into the sky with scraggly fingers. Frost creeps over the windows in icy whorls, a cobweb of winter, fanning out in intricate patterns that melt when you breathe on them. The winter sun glows in the softened blue of the sky, only to be replaced with gray clouds.

The first snow is falling when you go to pick up Kita.

The flakes are fat and fluffy, perfectly crystalline. They flutter through the air like butterflies, spinning in great, lazy arcs as they drift to the ground. They melt as soon as they hit the pavement. 

They catch in Kita’s hair as the two of you head into the house, little dew drops that make his gray hair shine. He’s cherry-cheeked with the cold, his face half-buried in his scarf. It’s cute. Something in you pangs when he sends you a little smile, only discernible by the way his eyes crinkle at the edges. 

The two of you peel off your outer layers in the genkan. Kita puts his away carefully, at odds with your slightly haphazard method of kicking your boots away to find later. 

“It’s future me’s problem,” you tell him and he just shakes his head, a small smile caught in the corner of his lips. 

You show him to the guest room, freshly made up for his visit, and linger in the hallway as he stores his suitcase. 

“Dinner?” you ask as he steps out into the hall again.

“That’d be great.”

“C’mon, I’ve got some things ready in the kitchen.” 

“Sounds good.”

He follows you into the kitchen and insists on helping. You direct him to the plates as you check on what you’ve made. There’s colorful tsukemono, each pickled vegetable bright in its own way, stained to watercolors by the pickling liquid. The curry is thick and bubbling, with chunks of heavily marbled meat and vegetables coated in the sauce. The rice is steaming lightly and so are the nikuman, each bun pinched shut perfectly. 

“Ya didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Kita says, eyeing the food as he sets the table. 

“Too late,” you say cheerfully. “Eat.” 

He smiles softly, shaking his head, but sits down when you gesture. You join him and the two of you start to fill your plates. 

You talk quietly as you eat, all easy chatter. Part of you can’t help but think of the beginning, when everything with him was stilted and careful. That’s changed through the years but it’s even easier now, the conversation flowing like a river, calm and unchanging. 

When you’re done eating, Kita collects the plates and brings them to the sink. He rolls up his sleeves and turns the water on. You sigh but don’t bother to say anything. Instead, you settle in next to him with a dish towel in your hand. 

He’s radiating a soft, gentle heat. It takes conscious effort to not lean into him. 

He washes and you dry, falling into an effortless rhythm. 

“Are you seeing Aran while you’re here?” you ask.

“He’s away trainin’,” Kita says, handing you another dish. “So’s Atsumu. I’ll see Osamu, but you know I’m here to see you, right?”

Your cheeks heat. “I know,” you say. “But two birds, one stone, y’know?”

He hums, rinsing off the final dish and drying his hands. He leaves his sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. For a moment, you watch the play of his muscles, the way they coil beneath his tanned skin as he picks up the dry dishes and brings them back to the cabinet. You look away when you realize what you’re doing.

You both go to bed early that night; Kita’s tired from his usual early wake-up and the travel. You try not to laugh as he bids you goodnight. It’s cute, the way he blinks sleepily, his amber eyes softened to a honeyed brown. 

You can hear him as you get ready for bed, the quiet little noises of another person’s presence. It soothes something in you. 

You glance at your wedding rings, ensconced in a little jewelry dish on your nightstand. They gleam in the light. You run your fingers over them, tracing the cool metal gently. 

You put them away in a drawer before you go to sleep.

***

The snowstorm hits on the last day of Kita’s visit. 

The wind whips between buildings, catching the snowflakes and tossing them about like ships on a stormy sea. The snow piles up into thick drifts, the silken white of it gone yellow beneath the glow of the street lights, like a melting pat of butter. 

You and Kita watch the storm from where you’re tucked under the kotatsu. You’d pulled it out when you’d heard the forecast, the two of you working together to get it set up. It still works, luckily, and the two of you sit next to each other and bask in the soothing warmth. 

The wind slows; you gaze at the snowflakes as they slow, drifting like dancers across the stage, each puffy flake a part of its own ballet. Everything has gone quiet, muffled at the edges. It’s like the world is waiting to take its next breath. 

“What are you thinking?” Kita asks softly.

When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice just as soft as his. “All sorts of things.”

He hums quietly.

The wind picks up again; the windows rattle with it. You shiver, snuggling further under the kotatsu. Kita shifts. His leg presses against yours, a line of warmth even under the heat of the kotatsu. 

You glance at him. He’s watching the storm. It reflects in his eyes, lightening them, taking them from amber to gold. You think of the rice fields at their peak, when they’re treasured gold, and can’t help the small smile that curls around your lips.

Perhaps he feels your gaze, because Kita turns to face you. In the low light, he’s softened at the edges, a watercolor being. His eyes are aglow, like sunlight pooling. He gives you a small smile. 

“What is it?”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you say quietly, the words pouring from you like a waterfall, something unstoppable. 

He goes still for a breath, a statue of old. Then he softens again.

“You’ll always have me,” he says, and you used to hate how true it is. Now, though—now it feels different. Just a bit. 

“Thank you, Shinsuke,” you say. 

Something flickers over his face like heat lightning, too quick for you to comprehend. You think you might have disappointed him. 

You turn your gaze away. It lands on a picture frame placed face-down. You suck in a deep breath. Before you can stop them, the tears are burning behind your eyes, starting to trickle down your cheeks. You scrub at them with one hand.

“Sorry,” you say to Kita.

“S’alright,” he says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even as another tear trickles down to pool salty on your tongue.

He reaches out, his hand hovering in the space between the two of you. He waits.

You nod.

He cups your cheek and sweeps his thumb under your eye. His touch has the same aching tenderness of a fresh, swollen bruise. You lean into his palm, keeping your eyes on his, your cheeks hot as he smiles at you sadly. 

He wipes away the tears before pulling back. You can see the gleam of them on his thumb. 

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“Course.”

You scrub away the remains of the tears and then blow out a big breath. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

Kita studies you for a moment. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but he nods, giving you a soft smile. “Sure.”

“Great,” you say, pushing to your feet. “You choose.”

“If you want,” he says, standing as well and heading towards the living room. “No complaining, though.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there in a minute,” you call after him, leaning down to turn off the kotatsu. You tuck the comforter in, tidying it up lightly. You nod to yourself. When you turn around, you pause for a moment, your gaze settling on the face-down picture frame.

It’s a photo you know well, one of you and Takao on the beach, the ocean a vast expanse behind you, glittering with the searing blue of the tropics. You’re caught mid-laugh as Takao plants a kiss on your cheek. It’s always been a favorite.

Before you leave the room, you stand the picture frame back up. 

***

You drop Kita off at the train station early the next day. You breathe him in as you hug him goodbye, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He tightens his grip around you with a little laugh. 

“I’ll come to the farm in spring,” you tell him. “I promise.” 

“Good.”

You wave goodbye as he enters the train station; he glances back right before he disappears through the doors. Something warm blooms in you. It settles in your stomach and flutters there.

When you’ve made it home, you pull out your phone. You settle onto the edge of the couch as it rings, your shoulders stiff. 

It rings until the voicemail clicks on and Takao’s voice floods your ears. You close your eyes as his voicemail message plays, letting his voice wash over you like a summer storm, a warm, sweet rain. You listen to Takao talk, relearning the cadence of his voice, the way it rises and falls, the way his tongue curls around words. You hadn’t realized how much of it you’d forgotten. 

“Hi,” you say when the tone beeps. “I miss you.”

You’re quiet for a moment; the line carries on, reflecting you breathing back to yourself.

“Shinsuke just left,” you say. “Aoshi—I think I like him. More than I ever thought I could. Is that alright?”

The line is silent.

“I didn’t mean to like him,” you say. “I really didn’t. But he’s good, Aoshi. He’s so good.” 

You sniffle.

“I don’t know what to do,” you murmur. “I don’t know how to leave you behind. But I think—I think he’s okay with that. I just—it feels like giving in. Like our choice, the one we made over and over again, was for nothing.” 

You take in a deep, steadying breath. 

“I know that’s not true. I know that our choice was for everything. That it never really was a choice in the first place, not for me.”

“I just—I really think I like him, Aoshi. Is that alright? Please tell me it’s alright.” 

The voicemail beeps; you’ve hit the end of the time you can record. You hang up and bury your face in your hands. 

“Fuck. Fuck!”

You lay back on the couch, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands. You curl in on yourself. 

You grab your phone and dial again.

“Hi.”

“Natsumi.”

“Oh, shit, no nickname, that’s not a good sign.” 

“I think I like Shinsuke.” 

She pauses. “Is that a bad thing?” she asks gently. 

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“It just—”

“Feels like giving in?”

“...Yeah. Was this always going to happen?” 

“Maybe,” she says. “But maybe not. You don’t have to be with him, you know. If you don’t want to, that is.” 

“I don’t know what I want.”

“I think you do,” she says gently.

“I don’t, Nat-chan.” 

“Okay. Okay. Let me put it this way: is your only issue with Kita the fact that he’s your soulmate?”

“He’s not Aoshi.”

“No one is going to be Aoshi. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Liking Kita isn’t giving up on Aoshi. It’s not leaving him behind. It’s just moving forward. You’ll bring him with you no matter what, no matter how far forward you move,” she says, and you bite at your bottom lip until you can taste blood.

“I don’t want to be with my soulmate just because they’re my soulmate.”

“Do you really think you might like Kita just because he’s your soulmate?”

“...No.” 

“It’s not bad to like him,” she says, not unkindly. “You’re not bad for liking him because of who he is.” 

“I don’t even know if I really like him.”

“Sweetheart,” Abe says, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you didn’t.” 

You go quiet. As her words settle in, you glance out the window. The snow on the ground is still pristine; it glimmers under the bleak winter sunlight. The neighborhood children are starting to stomp through it. They’re bundled up tight, practically waddling as they play. You take a deep breath.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say. 

“I don’t know how many times I have to say that I always am before you believe me.”

“You’re wrong way too much for me to believe that.” 

“Don’t be mean!”

You smile. “Thanks, Nat-chan,” you say softly.

“Any time,” she says. “You’ll figure it out.”

As you hang up, you know that you will. 

***

Winter melts into spring.

The snow gives way to crocuses, which bloom like bruises, deep purple with stamen peeking shyly out of the center. The trees come to life, budding quickly, little specks of green dotted along the branches like stars. 

And on the farm, there are ducklings, tiny and fluffy, their down pollen-yellow. 

“Oh, Shin,” you say as he hands you one, dropping it carefully into your hands. It peeps its protest before snuggling up in your palm like a tiny sun. “I love them.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “I thought you might. Do you wanna name ‘em?”

“Really? You’ll let me?”

“Course.” 

“I’ll have to think of good ones,” you say. “Can I have a few days?”

“Take as much time as you need,” he says. “They’re not going anywhere.”

You nuzzle up against the one in your hand; it peeps again, as if grumbling at you. When you glance at Kita, he has a fond smile playing on his lips.

He takes you around on some of his other chores. There are seedlings in the garden, tiny little things just barely poking out of the ground, a promise of green growth. You water them carefully, wary of their thin, delicate stems.

Finally, you find yourself back in Kita’s genkan. Your boots—a pair of his, really, laced tightly to keep them on—are muddy, so you stop just inside the door. You’re leaning down to untie the boots when Kita kneels before you. 

“Shin…” you say and he glances back up at you with mischief in his smile. You decide it’s not worth it to try and stop him. 

He makes quick work of the laces with his deft fingers. You watch his bent head quietly, taking in the thunderstorm gray of it, edged with blackened clouds. You catch yourself before you run your fingers through it. 

“Up,” he says. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you step out of first boot; he wraps his hand around your wrist. 

It’s not long before both boots are off. Before you can even start to move, Kita has your house slippers in hand. He takes your ankle in his big hand, waiting for you to lift your foot so he can slip on the first slipper.

You almost balk. But he looks up at you with his keen amber eyes and you can’t help yourself. You lift your foot and he slides the slipper into place. He does the same thing with the second slipper. 

“Thanks,” you say, cheeks hot.

He nods. He pushes to his feet, a graceful ripple of motion, and tilts his head at you. “Lunch?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you say. “That sounds good.” 

You cook together with ease. You know his kitchen by heart now, able to pull pans from their place without looking, knowing which of his fresh herbs to clip without double-checking with him. 

It makes something in you ache. 

Kita returns to the fields after lunch. You choose to not go with him, deciding instead to curl up on the engawa with a book. You settle into place with your book on your lap and stare out into the countryside. 

It’s just beginning to go green with the flooded paddies glinting in the sun, a false ocean. The water glimmers with movement as the breeze rolls over you. A stork prowls through the paddies, long and elegant, moving with slow precision. Its beak flashes as it darts down to snap up some little creature. It takes off after that, spreading its wings wide and soaring into the blue expanse of the sky. You watch until it’s no more than a dot in the vastness. 

You curl up and start reading and don’t notice when evening starts to fall. That’s where Kita finds you when he comes home from the fields. You hadn’t even noticed his truck trundling up the driveway. 

“Hi,” you say as he comes up on the engawa, marking your place and getting to your feet.

“Hi,” he replies. “Have you been here all afternoon?”

“How’d you know?”

“Just a guess.” 

You eye him, trying to figure out what’s given you away. Kita stays stoic, as if carved from stone, and you huff. 

You follow him inside, kicking off your outside shoes before he can even try to kneel, and hop up from the genkan. As usual he goes to shower, ready to rinse off the fields. You keep reading.

He comes padding back into the kitchen a while later with a towel wound around his neck. His hair is still damp and you can see a cowlick curling at the back of his head. His tan skin glistens. 

“Dinner?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “What do you want to make?”

You discuss your options in front of the fridge, crowded in next to each other to see what he has. He’s still warm from the shower. You press closer to him and see him glance at you from the corner of his eye. He smiles, soft and sweet, and turns his attention back to the fridge. 

Eventually, you finally decide. Kita hands you a handful of carrots and you start to julienne them thinly, your knife—perfectly sharp, the most well-maintained kitchen knife you’ve ever seen—flashing in the light. 

He starts halving baby bok choy, little gems of green and white. The pan hisses when he drops them in, giving it a good toss before he moves on to his next task. 

“Is it really okay for me to be here during such a busy season?” you ask.

He glances at you. “I wouldn’t invite ya if it wasn’t a good time.” 

“True.”

“Besides, I told you there was always a place here for you, and I meant it.” 

Your cheeks heat. “I know.” 

“Good.”

Quiet falls, broken only by the sound of your knife against the board and the hiss of the pan as Kita stirs it again. It’s comfortable, though, and you feel no need to fill the air. The two of you cook away, moving around each other easily in his small kitchen, as if it’s a dance you’ve always known. 

It’s comforting in a way you’d almost forgotten.

You take a deep breath, your stomach churning a bit, and Kita glances over at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Just tired.”

He smiles softly. “If you wanna go to bed early, I don’t mind.” 

“We’ll see,” you tell him. “Now finish up, I’m hungry.” 

He laughs, but the two of you are done cooking not long after. You settle down to eat. You tell him some ideas you’ve had to name the ducks (“Duck is a perfectly good name, Shin!” “If ya say so.”) and he tells you about his day. It’s peaceful. Easy. 

You’ve just finished eating when you reach out and cover Kita’s hand with your own. “Shin,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Fer what?”

You shrug, unable to put the jumble inside you into words.

He turns his hand over under yours and laces your fingers together. You don’t pull away.

“Yer always thankin’ me,” he says softly. “You don’t need to.” 

“I do, though.”

“You don’t.” 

You look at him. He meets your gaze easily, amber eyes gone whiskey-dark. He gives your hand a little squeeze. 

“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” he says.

You squeeze back. “I will, though.” 

He sighs but doesn’t argue. 

For another moment, you both sit there, hands intertwined. You watch each other. You can feel the strength in his fingers and the hint of sweat on his palm. It’s warm and solid and real. Something in your chest stirs. 

You’re the one that pulls back first, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Kita lets you go without a word. 

The rest of dinner is quiet; you both go to your rooms early, influenced by Kita’s schedule. You murmur a soft goodnight in the hallway. You can still hear him when you’re in the guest room, listening to him rustling around before it all goes silent.

You gaze out the guest room window, taking in the rising moon. It’s waxing, almost full-bellied with light, pouring over the fields. It reflects off the water of the flooded paddies, a distorted mirror of itself. Under the moonlight, the fields go silvery, delicate and gossamer as they start to come to life. It’s beautiful in a foreign way. 

You curl up on the bed with your book, texting Yoshikawa and Abe here and there as your phone lights up. When the moon is high in the sky, you finally get ready for bed. 

You fall asleep thinking about the weight of Kita’s hand in your own. 

***

Something shifts between you.

It’s slow like a dune in the wind, the sand taking on a new shape, but neither of you have mentioned it. Maybe you don’t need to. Maybe it’s all said in each fleeting glance, a language written in the amber of Kita’s gaze. 

The days pass in a flicker of quiet moments. You spend a morning naming the ducklings, tucked in close to Kita’s side so he can see which one you’re pointing to. You repeat yourself as he takes them in, his brow furrowed as he notes the name for each nearly-identical duckling. 

Some days you join him in the fields, kneeling down into the muck to sow a shoot into place. He guides you with careful hands, his warm fingers wrapped firmly around yours. You eat lunch in the bed of his truck, mud flaking off of your boots, and bask in the spring sun. 

It’s easy. It’s terrifying. 

You think of the taste of ozone, how it crackles on your tongue. The slow, sharp bite of it. 

You know something will give. That the storm will break over you and change everything in its path. 

You think you might finally be ready for it. 

***

You come awake with a jolt. 

The sheets stick to you, caught in the layer of sweat accumulating on you. You sit up and press a hand to your heart, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings. 

Once you’ve regained your breath, you stumble over to the window and pull it open. The countryside breeze billows inside. It still carries the sharp bite of winter, but it’s mellowed under spring’s tender bloom. You close your eyes and let it flow over you. 

The breeze cools you, your sweat going tacky before it dries down completely. The dream rolls over you again and you shudder.

You find yourself padding down the hallway without realizing it. You stop just in front of the door. You tug at your lower lip with your teeth before taking a deep breath.

You knock gently on the door and then open it. 

“Shin?” you whisper.

The lump on the bed stirs. Kita pushes up onto his elbows. He’s bathed in moonlight, his hair haloed silver, the dark tips a moon’s eclipse. He’s bleary-eyed but he focuses on you instantly.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

You hesitate. 

“That bad?”

You shake your head. “I just…can I lay with you for a bit? Is that okay?” you ask, heart in your throat. You need to know he’s still here. That he’s real. 

His eyes widen before they go soft. He pulls back the covers and scoots over to give you more room. You’re across the room in an instant, slipping onto the futon. It’s still warm with his body heat and you shiver, goosebumps dancing across your skin. 

You keep a small distance between you when you lay down, but you let your head turn towards him. He’s still up on one elbow, the muscles in his bicep bunched with it, and he’s studying you carefully. 

He’s handsome, you realize, not for the first time. He’s sleep-rumpled, his hair messy and ruffled and his shirt wrinkled and bunched up just enough to show off a silver of his paler belly. The moonlight plays over him like a lover, lingering on the arch of his cheekbones and the dusting of freckles sprayed over his nose. His thick lashes flutter as he blinks, showcasing eyes gone golden, and you almost sigh.

He lies back down when you don’t move. The space between the two of you is small but it feels massive, a gulf between your two bodies, separating the shores of you. 

“You okay?” he asks again.

You shake your head. 

He reaches out and hesitates halfway, his big hand hovering in the air. In the moonlight, the constellation of his scars is more visible, little nicks and cuts that gleam bone-white in the light. 

“Can I?” he asks.

Your nod is tiny; the sheets crinkle with it.

He cups your cheek. His palm is rough against your skin but he’s careful with it, touches you as if you’re made of glass. It’s almost reverent. He sweeps his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“What did you dream of?” he breathes.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I couldn’t find you,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. “I looked and looked, but you weren’t there.”

“I’m here now.”

You hum.

“I’m here now,” he says again and it sounds like a promise.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “You are.” 

You shift on the futon. The sheets smell of him, of the faintest hint of the salt of his skin and his soap, and you close your eyes to let it envelop you. You nestle down into the pillow with a little yawn. 

“Go back to bed,” Kita murmurs, caressing your cheek with careful fingers. “You’ll be tired in the morning.”

You stir under his touch, opening one eye. He’s watching you, his amber eyes unbearably fond, and something in you pangs. You press closer to him; he radiates a gentle warmth and you relax into it.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask quietly. “Please?” 

You pretend to not hear the way his breath catches. 

“You sure?” he asks.

You press closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna regret it when my alarm goes off at dawn,” Kita says, a smile written in his sleep-rough voice. 

“I won’t,” you say. “Promise.”

He hums skeptically.

“Maybe you’ll regret it,” you whisper into the salt of his skin. “You might.”

He stills, and then he’s coaxing you up to look at him. His eyes gleam in the dim, a flash of amber, of the richness of the earth. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. 

“No,” he says. “I could never regret you.”

He always hears what you can’t quite bring yourself to say. 

“Never?” 

He nudges his nose against yours.

“Never.”

His breath stirs against your lips, and you take it in, make it your own. You sway closer, undulating like kelp, half-dizzy with it, and then you sway closer still.

He waits for you.

(He always has.)

When you kiss him, it’s simple. It feels right. 

Kita sighs into it, one big hand coming up to cup your face, his rough palm reverent against your skin. There’s no urgency to him; he’s honey-slow with it, melting into you under the cover of night. 

You kiss him again, and again, like the tide against the shore, lapping at the edges of him until you’re etched into his skin. He meets you each time, sweet and steady. 

You kiss him until he is all you know, and then you kiss him once more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re crying until he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone.

You part your lips, and he presses a little kiss against them before he pulls back. In the dim, his amber eyes have gone whiskey-dark, deep and heady. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to explain.” 

You press your face into the warm crook of his neck again. He smells of plain soap and a lingering hint of citronella from the fields, sweet and stinging. You breathe him in, let the scent of him settle into you, a part of him to carry always. 

Kita curls a gentle arm around you. 

“Go to sleep,” he breathes, and you pull back to look at him. He watches you, his vulpine eyes unbearably fond, and he smiles against your lips when you kiss him again.

He cups your cheek and pulls you into a deeper kiss before he backs away. He sweeps his lips against yours in a chaste peck and says again, “Go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you murmur. You curl up into him as his breath starts to even out. You listen to the tide of it, the ebb and flow, a balm against a bruise you’ll always have, and close your eyes knowing that he’s right there.

You wake to the quiet beep of his alarm clock. He rises from bed with quicksilver ease, the thick muscles of his back rippling under his sleep shirt. It’s barely dawn; wan light filters in through the curtains like an azure sea, outlining him faintly as he moves around the room. He looks like something out of a painting, sketched out in broad strokes of soft shadows.

He looks too good to be true. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs as you shift on the futon. His sheets are well-worn, the type of broken in that comes with years of use and careful care. “It’s early.”

Instead, you get up with him, slipping out from beneath the warmth of the comforter with a soft sigh. Kita gives you a little smile, a crescent moon tilt of his lips, and your cheeks heat. You glance away and hear him huff out a laugh.

He disappears into the bathroom, and you make up the futon, smoothing your hands over the wrinkles until they disappear. 

By the time he pads into the kitchen, the old coffeemaker is hissing and gurgling, spitting out a steady drip of liquid. He brushes by you to get a mug, his hand warm on your lower back as he sidles past. The heat of him lingers. 

The two of you eat breakfast in a comfortable silence. He slides his portion of your favorite onto your plate without a word; you push your share of pickled daikon into one of his small kobachi dishes. He says nothing,, but his lips quirk at the edges, the faintest hint of a sweet smile. 

He gets up when you’re both finished, pushing to his feet in one fluid movement. His muscles coil with it, going taut beneath his tanned skin. It’s more distracting than you thought it would be.

You peer at him from the corner of your eyes as he starts to clear the table. He moves with careful intent, his big hands steady against the delicate porcelain. 

You want to kiss him again.

Instead, you get to your feet and finish clearing the table, handing him dishes when he gestures for them. You wash the dishes together. Over the whisper of the running water, you talk about your upcoming day, trying to decide if you’ll be able to eat lunch together as well. You can’t quite keep the smile from your lips. 

When the dishes are put away, you walk with him onto the engawa. He cups your cheek, sweeping his thumb over the arch of your cheekbone, and smiles. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. 

“I’ll be here,” you say, soft and full of promise, and his eyes crinkle with his smile.

You watch from the engawa as he disappears into the distance, into the paddies, swallowed up by the verdant world he’s created with his own hands. He glances back at you once, just before he disappears from sight. 

You raise your face to the gentle warmth of the rising sun.

It’s a new day.

[fantomette22]

Do you have any recommendations of bloodborne fan fiction? :3 I'm getting hungry for Laurence 👀

Heya!!! I'm very honoured you are asking me of all people! 👀 I mean maybe you did ask other people too x)

Hm I will try to put here a few links! But that really depends what you want to read 🤔

Do you prefer Fanfics very Laurence-centric? Some where he's just a character between many others? Do you want actions based fics? Something more calm but who are very thoughtful? Something very tragic where Laurence die or when he start to loose it maybe? At which moment of his life? Or do you prefer fics more based into relationships with other characters? And in this case which pairings? Are you more comfortable with something soft where there's just tension or maybe something more intimate? Are you alright with something more graphic and mature perhaps? (there's some very wild fics if you take the time to read some tags on ao3 but I really can't bring myself to read them XD).

Or are you the type of person that will take almost ANYTHING because you are so desperate for the slightest thing? 😂

So yeah it really depends what you are looking for.

But anyway if you are asking ME for recommendations should I understand it's really the ones I read and like? Well I was kinda busy this last few months to read fics. And when I did, I really tend to focus my time to read some featuring particular characters (like gehrman for ex). Fics focus on Laurence aren't my thing except in a few cases (even if he's in my top 5 characters)

But now I will have more time to read and finish written mine as well! That make me think...

Before I sent many link with fics mainly focused on Laurence I know I guess I need to put mine and my friend fic there as well x) They are mostly centred around Maria I supposed but also many other characters as well.

Christened in Blood written my dear friend @heraldofcrow

It's mostly focus on Maria & Bloody Crow backstory + her interpretation of how the lore went. Laurence is there a bit too XD he might show up more later as well.

My own fanfiction, A scholar's dream. It's one of my more complete headcanon/interpretation retracing all the events of the lore before the game. At least 1/4 of it for this first fic, that I haven't finished yet. It's mostly based on how the old blood was discovered by Byrgenwerth, how the healing church was founded, many characters backstory on how they meet. And university shenanigans. (I have 2/3 of chap 7 completed I will try to continue soon). It's focus on many characters and well Laurence is quite an important figure there. Not the most important but still important enough.

Alright now I tried to re find a few fics with Laurence as a main character i remembered reading too. There's some i didn't had time to read yet but are mainly focus on Laurence and written by a few people I know as well. or generally have many people on Tumblr who read them.

Bloodorne fanfictions by @mrslittletall like the Crazy Cat Vicar

Fics mainly focus on Laurence/Micolash :

Bloodborne fanfictions by @karnaca78

Bloodborne Fanfictions by @synthwayve

and fanfictions by @kiybee

---

@subzeroparade have written many fics where Laurence is the focus as well.

There's a lot of other fics focus on Laurence/Ludwig or with Laurence/Brador as well, even caryll/laurence. I had to dig in ao3 a little but go check it out you might found cool things! (sorry didn't had time to read them all for sure) there's also many little oneshots, focus with only Laurence or even bigger multi chapter fics with Laurence being a main character or not.

I remember reading Synchrony a while ago and it was cool I think. It's mostly focus on Ludwig and his adventures at Byrgenwerth.

I think there were why very cool entered around Laurence at Byrgenwerth as well + gehrman and fanfic.net. I tried to found it again but failed.

I can't just put the entirety and fanfic.net, ao3 and many others so I will stop there I think x) sorry I forgot anyone ;-;

If you want others based on other trope/characters please let me know I will try my best.

[glade-constellation]

I've seen your takes in eclipse, and as a new TSAMS fan I honestly agree, man's a cornered dog that everyone's been trying to put down ever since they learned of his existence. That said, do you know about any fic recs that actually explore the points you're making? I would appreciate if you share some! Or just tell me about an ao3 tag I could visit!

Sorry this took me a moment to get to! I’m terrible at not bookmarking things so I had to dig through the TSAMS tag. This list isn’t in any particular order. Not all of these dig deep into Eclipse’s character but, if they don’t, they’re still good Eclipse-centric fics that I recommend giving a read.

For a general tag to check out, usually “Eclipse Redemption”, “Redemption Arc”, or even “Fix-It Fic” will get you something. There’s not really one definite tag for it sadly, and stories that aren’t redemption arcs don’t typically go deep into Eclipse as a character.

As for fic recommendations, I’ll put the list under the cut :

Rising Eclipse (Sun and Moon AU)

by BrightStar2000

After Sun's minor spell mistake, Eclipse finds himself alive, and not exactly well. He can't move without causing himself immense pain. He has nothing, but time, and Eclipse finds himself reflecting on his actions, and actively regretting them. What will begin as a revenge mission, becomes his chance at redeeming himself.

First in a series! I do recommend the whole series if this one interests you. This takes place after Eclipse’s first death, and goes into a lot of the guilt Eclipse V1 was shown to have. Mostly from Eclipse’s POV.

Sunk Cost Fallacy

by thedemonsurfer

"the phenomenon whereby a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy or course of action because they have invested heavily in it, even when it is clear that abandonment would be more beneficial"

Or–

Eclipse has put too much effort into getting the star to give it up now. Even if it kills him.

Honestly recommend anything by Demon. All of their stories do an amazing job at digging into Eclipse and why he is the way he is. This particular one takes place after Eclipse V2 gets the Star, and shows how the Star affects him both mentally and physically.

Forgotten But Not Gone

by Smol40

Eclipse did...something. Why can't Sun and Moon remember?

Another Eclipse V2 where Eclipse has the Star. His loneliness and guilt gets to him, and he decided to try and wipe everyone’s memories to make his own family. (I would pay close attention to the tags on this one, especially the “Bittersweet Ending” one.)

Ghost in the Machine

by Snorp_Lord

Emails start coming through on Moon's computer with helpful information, but no name on them. Each email gives him more questions.

The sender turns out to be the last person he expects.

Short but good. Takes place when Eclipse V2 is working with Killcode and is trapped in the computer system. Moon and Eclipse actually get to talk about a few things.

Karma’s Bitter, But So Am I

by SinisterShepard

He lost. Eclipse actually lost. Banished to a forest with no one to help his quickly degrading state, Eclipse has to decide between his dignity or death.

And, once the pain sets in, he quickly realizes how much he's willing to lose for the promise of another day. Even if that day involves pushing Lunar even further away than before.

Amidst all this, he still manages to say the wrong thing, which...may end up costing his life all over again, judging by that look in Blood Moon's eyes.

~

Set after "The Death of Eclipse"

This will have 5 parts, and is a sort of redemption arc for Eclipse. That isn't obvious in the first chapter though.

One of the things I love about this series is how Eclipse still keeps his asshole-ish personality after his redemption. It’s one of the fanfics that I feel still keeps him pretty in character to canon after he’s supposed to be better.

Canaries in a Cage

by 22FluffyTheSpider123

Life in the terrarium while far from convenient, was somewhat getting a little easier. Even if most days left Sun with little to do and bored out of his mind. But he was still alive at least, which was certainly something given the name and overall existence of his captor.

Perilous situation that forces Sun and Eclipse to actually communicate and work together? Amazing.

Charade

by thedemonsurfer

Even false comfort is welcomed when you have nothing else.

(Is it really fake or are you just in denial?)

---

Sun and Eclipse share a moment of mutual comfort despite agreeing that they hate one another.

Another Demon recommendation. Another good fanfic that goes over Sun and Eclipse’s relationship.

Kill Code, You Are the Father

by I_See_Four

An Alternate Dimension where KC tries to build his family and connect with his sons. Due to miscommunications and general Kill Code shenanigans, it's a rocky road but attempts were made. Lunar gets caught right in the middle.

Just when things are looking up, old conflicts and threats of alternative dimensional possibilities come back to haunt them.

Diverges from the Sun and Moon show lore roughly around "Bloodmoon and Killcode TEAM UP?!".

This is not Eclipse-centric, but does do a very good job at dealing with both his and Lunar’s trauma. Honestly, just an overall good fix-it fic for TSAMS.

[zannolin]

fic author q&a

tagged by @beautyofsorrow <3

why do you write fanfic?

short answer, because i love it and it makes me happy. longer answer, still that. but it makes other people happy too, sometimes, and especially as i am often writing for nicher series/pairings/dynamics/etc, i love knowing that someday if anyone else likes this obscure silly thing, they can go looking for fic about it and mine will be there waiting for them. also i am immensely unhappy when i'm not writing. i don't think i could live without it. and writing fanfic is fulfilling to me in a way that original work often is not, largely because of the community aspect and the low pressure for it to be marketable or revised or support me as a person or an artist tbh.

which of your posted stories do you think of the most even though the story is "finished"?

mmm tough call. the fey au in the sense that it's the world and plot i am proudest of craft-wise. i worked really hard and i think you can see that it paid off. but other than that i think... i think it might have to be please don't hold me to it right now. because i did it just how i wanted. in a way it's like what my boys in bars series was trying to be but didn't quite reach on the friendship level i think.

if you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

just let yourself write what you want, how you want. you can have flowery prose. you can be weird and vague and metaphorical. you can just write about friends, i promise. and stop looking at your fucking stats.

what's your relationship to fic stats?

well. i think above answers that one lol. i've blocked my ao3 stats. i cannot see hit or kudos or bookmark counts on ANY fics. + i've gotten much better about not expecting anything especially by writing highly niche stuff.

is there a pairing or scenario or friendship that you miss writing? if so, why? if not, why not?

ehhh. the shazamily, to an extent. the shazam fandom is lovely because so many of us are writing family/friendship centric works and that's if not the norm, at least MUCH more common than in other fandoms that i've been in, and i miss that because at heart, i'm a genficcer. i'm a friendshipper. i love platonic and ambiguous relationships so much. so i miss that, but for the most part, i'm actually okay with not writing anything i used to write. that's okay.

what motivates you to write?

i WILL lose my mind if i don't. i can't even elaborate past that like i'll just go bonkers.

why do you write for the fandom(s) you write for?

because i am sick and ill and dying from brainrot and nobody is writing the highly specific content that i crave in the way that i crave it. sometimes there's nothing for the fandom at all, and SOMEBODY's gotta be the change. mostly i'm just like hyperfixated and losing it.

if you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

take a break. do other things like jigsaw puzzles and taking walks and reading books. listening to phoebe bridgers on my floor. the usual. it'll pass. the ideas will come when they're ready.

what do you wish people knew about comments?

a genuine comment is never a bother. NEVER. no author that i have ever met is going to be upset at you for commenting on a fic and saying hey i really loved this!!! or something like that. no matter how old that fic is. no matter if the author has moved on, or put it on anon, or hasn't written fanfiction in years. it is never, ever a bother. when i get a comment on a fic that i didn't JUST post, i rejoice. i lie on my floor and i think about how incredible it is that people are still finding, reading, and loving something that i wrote, no matter how bad i think it is now that i've grown into a different person. i have coasted for WEEKS on the fact that someone left me a comment saying i loved this and here's my favorite part. here's why. this made me cry. this made me smile. this reminded me of my best friend. this is how it feels, really, you got it. any of that. all of it. sometimes a fic is me going "is this crazy??" and a comment is someone saying "no, no, it's not, i see it". a comment that takes like two minutes to type can matter for two years just by being like, hey, this mattered to me. plus like 90% of my friendships online have been founded on the basis of commenting on fanfic so you know, rave reviews from me.

maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. what's that question (and answer)? -> is there a fic and/or author who is doing what you want to be doing with your own writing? who/what?

i can yap all day about inspirations but lately, i am haunted by love me on purpose by smoosnoom in terms of themes, emotions, and pure aching; @thcscus in sheer technicality and prose; the pacing, metaphor, and tone in there's daggers in men's smiles, @beautyofsorrow's sensory work in literally Every fic ever + her fic for the barbie zine none of you losers get to read yet; and @blusandbirds' ability to capture visceral emotion so damn vividly and succinctly.

tagging @blusandbirds @transjlawrence @lordgrimwing @pinkgrapefloyd!

[mrs-steve-harrington]

Throwing some fic recs into the mix since I keep seeing the posts from others and wanting to join in. Below, you'll find 10 fics that I'm excited to recommend, in no particular order!

get a clue! by @monsterhunting [Stranger Things, Stoncy]

This is a delightful Valentine's Day fic featuring oblivious Steve, which is one of my favorite kinds of Steve! The pining is real, but the fic is lighthearted, not lingering on the angst of it all, but rather focusing on the positives. Steve's friendship and back and forth with Robin is great, but his interactions with Nancy and Jonathan are even better. It's a great time!

Don't Make Me by @idridian [Halloween Ends, Corey/Allyson/Michael]

You do not understand how badly I needed a fic like this after finally seeing Halloween Ends for the first time. That movie took over my whole brain for a hot minute and I was worried there would be nothing out there to sink my teeth into afterwards. But this fic. This fic was there to give me everything that I needed after the movie. "Allyson Corruption Arc" might be my favorite tag ever. It goes without saying, but there's a darkness to this fic that wraps around you while reading it. The relationship with Allyson and Corey is EVERYTHING! I just. This fic is beautiful and I love it!

To Run The Dog by @pterawaters [Stranger Things, Stoncy]

I love me some fic where Stancy crush hard on Jonathan and want to date him together. This is a really lovely AU where Steve and Nancy are married and keep seeing Jonathan running by their house with his dog. The way they want so badly to interact with him, and the friendship that ends up developing once they get the chance, is wonderful. The characters still feel like themselves despite not having gone through the same things as they do in the show, and it's just. Really enjoyable to read!

my body's aching and my time is at hand by whateverislovely [Criminal Minds, Reid-centric]

Gosh, this fic hits me right in the feels. There's something about sitting with a character who is feeling so low and feels like they can't talk to anyone (even though they know deep down that they could but it FEELS like they can't). Spencer desperately needs someone to see that he's struggling, but it's hard when there's so much going on at the same time. I don't even know what all to say, this fic just really gave me the angst and hurt/comfort (emotional and physical) that I revel in.

The Babysitter by @stevethehousewife [Stranger Things, Stancy, Dusteve, uhh... more]

A fic inspired by my favorite horror comedy movie ever? With Steve as the titular babysitter? But not evil? AND it's A/B/O?? Yeah there are many, many reasons I love this fic. The descriptions of Steve feel like they came right out of the movie in a way that made them so easy to see in my head. But it changes enough about the story that it doesn't feel at all like a straight up rehash of what you've already seen. AND it combines some of my favorite ships, with a Steve who is just the best ever. I freaking LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH!!

close my fist around something delicate by inlovewithnight [Ted Lasso, Keeley/Roy/Jamie]

All that I wanted for these three was for them to realize that they have feelings for each other. That they can make a relationship work, if they just try. And dammit, this fic delivers! While also adding in some great angst and hurt/comfort (physical and emotional). I didn't realize quite how much I wanted to see Jamie hurting and being stood up for/protected by the people who care about him, but boy did I! This fic is really lovely, it sucked me in and didn't let me go until I finished reading.

Both Hands Holding on to the Wire by @stevethehousewife [Stranger Things, Stobin]

This was one hell of a gift to get in a smut exchange, holy moly! It focuses really well on Robin's confusion over the thoughts she starts having about Steve after accidentally walking in on him changing. The whole concept is handled respectfully, taking the weight of it all very seriously. Robin and Steve's friendship is so good, the way they can just BE with each other. It's got the angst I adore, a Steve who is an absolute sweetheart, and a Robin who is so much more like her season 4 self than season 3 (which is a huge plus for me personally).

The Hourglass by @pterawaters [Fargo s5, Dot & Gator, Dot/Wayne/Gator]

A shorter fic here, but no less wonderful! It's exactly what I needed after finishing the latest season of Fargo. Getting to see where their lives might have gone, if Dot had been able to take Gator with her when she ran away. If he had wanted to go. It gets me emotional every time I think about it. I love love love this fic!

Wednesday by @stevethehousewife [Stranger Things, Stoncy]

I will recommend this fic forever and for always. It has everything: hurt Steve! Time loops! Season 3 Steve being thrown back to the worst day of his life and forced to relive it over and over until he gets it right (hint, it's the Halloween party in s2). I fucking love this fic! I've lost count of how many times I've reread it, but it might rival the number of time loops Steve lives through (okay maybe not quite that many, but you get my point). It shows Steve a side of Jonathan he didn't get to see the first time around. It gives him the closure he probably didn't realize he needed. I just. Adore this story!!

An Oath Broken, An Oath Kept by @urisarang [Love Between Fairy and Devil, Chang Heng/Dongfang Qingcang]

This fic is so mean in the best way! Both of them are so hurt, physically and emotionally. And then Chang Heng is forced to hurt DFQC even more, which only makes it that much BETTER. It was the perfect gift to receive for the Flash Made Them Do It exchange. I laugh every time I see the a/n (the word count minimum was 300 words. The word count on this fic is... a lot more than that). And it's just as fun to reread now as it was to read it the first time around. I want to draw hearts around it!

[keylovesstuff]

Hiii Everyone!!!

I've been around for years now and have never introduced myself. mainly cause I just choose to vibe and enjoy the posts people share, but first time for everything. You can just call me Key, I'm 24 and I go by she/her. I enjoy a variety of stuff from manwha, manga, anime, video game franchises, and just a bunch of other animated media you name its probably buried down in my blog somewhere. Every now and then I get motivation to create fanfiction. I have only written works the Dragonball and Super Mario fandom All my works are under the "Keep Reading". My DMs and askbox here is always open if you ever want to chat I apologize in advance if I come across as a bit awkward (socializing is not a strong suit of mine) or if it takes me a minute to reply (adulting and hobbies am I right?), otherwise I'm a pretty chill person. Thats about it!

One of these days I really want to change my Penname...But I've had it for years now and I'm way too attached to it lmao.

Super Mario Fics: So a lot of these are Princess Peach centric and I'm just crafting up an origin story and some other events following the 2023 film. The links take you to the tumblr post but I have included the AO3 and FFN (for reading preferences) links either in the original post itself or in the case of my earlier stuff in the reblogs.

Lost And Found

A Learning Opportunity (2 chapters on both AO3 and FFN. They are both on the same post here)

Thoughts Over Tea

Aftermath

Finding The Balance

Little Events (Finished)

Chapter 1: The Dark

Chapter 2: A Decision

Chapter 3: The Coronation

Chapter 4: Proposals

Chapter 5: Changes

Fics Inspired by others:

Villainess Peach and Bowser Jr. (Inspired by the Player One Luigi AU created by Tiny-Prom and Casual-Derg). Please make sure to their blog's and check it out.

Dragonball Fics: The first fandom I have ever written for (and by penname you could probably tell what I read mostly) I have only shared them on FFN and AO3 until now. I was just starting to write fanfiction with the first two so they might be kinda cringe I guess but that's 16 year old me for you haha. gonna embrace the cringe by sharing it on here anyways.

Tournament Day

The Prince Before The Day ( I am never gonna finish that one or go back to it lol)

Bulla's Easter Day

Even when I started making fics I'm still not sure what goes through my mind when it comes to the title or chapter titles its literally the first thing that comes to mind and nothing after that but we will get it one day for sure.

Here's Some WIPs (that's both written and not) you guys can look forward too from me. I'll remove them and add them under the appropriate fic tags once I post them:

Uncle Yamcha fic: It is currently three chapters. The first one is him and Trunks, second is Marron, and the third one is Bra/Bulla. I really want to think of one for him and Goten but nothing has come to my mind. I just think he's more close to Krillin and Bulma where he'd interact more with their kids and I can't think of a scenario for him and Goten or what they would even talk about but maybe something will come. (I've currently sent this off to my Beta for review but lemme know if you guys want to see the un-beta'd version I have on here cause I'm really forward to sharing it)

Untitled EOZ fic following after Goku leaves the Tournament grounds to train Uub. This one sits at about 8k words (not sure exactly cause I added a bunch of notes at the end for my beta to see where my thoughts were going with it all) anyways this one focuses mainly on Trunks, Goten, Marron, Pan, and Bra as really the older kids look forward to what may lie ahead. A lot of it is just me focusing on the dynamics they have with each other. When I saw that dlc for kakorat was going to be focused on that one that really makes me want to share this one. Again let me know if you want to see that.

Based on this Ask here you can already see that I've completed 4 out of my 5 ideas so that leaves the other ones and maybe more if I think of anything else. All of these will probably be added to my Little Events fic. a few little ideas not shared here but I've thought about and have some dialoge in mind but haven't fully created yet.

I want to do something where Mario and Haru interact I just think it'll be so neat.

Maybe something where I do my take on introducing Sarasland and Princess Daisy. Probably along the lines of Peach meeting Daisy for the first time.

I need to hop on the wholesome bros. content at some point and I know I wanna try my hand with Mia and Pio as a part of it.

I think thats it for now...I'll probably add more if I think of something as having somwhere to put it down no matter how small it is can be nice to look at and push me towards getting it done.

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

WIPs 7: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week we have the seventh edition of the work-in-progress fic rec list! Check under the cut for seven unfinished and WIP fics, and don't forget to kudos and comment if you like them!

Living Things by melodious_me (24668, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Is it domestic violence if one party is arguably goading the other? I say yes, others disagree.

A scenario in which Caleb and Essek have been — “studying” together for a while already, a night that gets terribly out of hand, and the aftermath of it all. Deep emotional wounds, bad BDSM etiquette, and even worse communication skills make a terrible combination.

Reccer says: Dark, heartbreaking and enthralling, this is an Essek-centric POV and the way that it locks you into his perspective and out of Caleb’s (even in the few outsider POV chapters) is masterfully well done. I want to say unreliable narrator, but more like deeply one-sided narrator who doesn’t know wtf is going on in the other person’s mind, and both of them are lashing out and hurting the other because of it. Every time there is a new chapter I want to run around in circles and jump up and down! It’s so well written! It’s so painful! It’s so good!

the continuous remembrance of a life unlived by LivThael (101109, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-con

Essek is missing and Caleb desperately tries to find clues about his whereabouts, but something is wrong and Caleb seems too lost in his grief over Essek's disappearance to catch up with the signs. This story is a mystery and a deep dive into grief.

Reccer says: Fascinating dark mystery story. Trying to untangle the puzzle is engaging enough as it is, but the visceral way Caleb’s own grief is written draws you in enough to make it even harder to solve the mystery yourself. Incredible, upsetting, real messed up, but it looks like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel?

characters of no illusion by Anonymous (6398, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

In which a shop assistant (Caleb) teaches a courtesan (Essek) a touch of magic, and a courtesan teaches a shop assistant the magic of touch.

Reccer says: There's something heartbreakingly sweet about the fic so far. I can't wait to see where the story goes.

The Wizard's Assistant by InkDippedFeathers (11708, General) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Essek hires Caleb to act as his assistant

Reccer says: Mutual manipulation is one of my favorite tropes, and I love their dynamic

blue waltz by atlasarcana (11990, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Caleb and Essek have a vacation in one timeline, while in the same location, Bren and the Shadowhand hunt for a beacon in the other timeline. Things start to converge and get freaky quickly.

Reccer says: I think the Echo Bren series always has some very high quality writing that balances pretty insightful character and plot. I love the differences between Caleb and Bren, and their respective relationships to each other's Esseks. It's only on chapter 2/6 for now but it still looks like it's going to go some pretty cool places, considering the tags and the Author's note.

Confronting Shadows by Hyaluronic (1411, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Dominox was definitely an opportunist and the high level spell caster was too delicious a snack to pass up on.

Reccer says: Delicious, delicious angst

Pas de Deux by pugcloud (1614, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Caleb is unaccustomed to the aristocratic tendencies of any nation, let alone the one that has only recently come out of a war with his own. Despite this, he is allured to the Firmaments' High Society-though it is not the work of the sparkly chandeliers or gaudy bouquets, but rather the temptations of a handsome drow man whom he'd trekked miles with, Essek Thelyss.

Reccer says: New regency-flavored Shadowgast my beloved (also great writing)

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with College AUs!

[awkwardtickleetoo]

Lee!George Week Day 6 - Intense Tickles

well. this has taken way too long

I'm sorry it took like 8 years to get this out, but I'm hoping that it being literally 12k words will maybe make up for it a little??? thanks everyone for being patient, I hope you guys still like this <3 and day 7 will be out shortly!! for real this time lmao

this is still part of the lee!george week event that mush put together!! you can find the prompts here, and if you want to participate make sure to use the tag "mushie's lee!george week" when you post <3

WARNINGS: feet nibbles!! I can't sugar coat it, dream fully nibbles on george's feet/toes!! there's nothing weird or nsfw about it, but I know a lot of people really do not like that kind of stuff, so this is your warning, if you don't like mouth tickles and/or feet tickles, they are both featured in this PRETTY heavily, so either skip this one or proceed with caution <3

this entire fic is pretty nibble-centric, so if mouth tickles are where your issue lies, I'd say skip this one, BUT if it's just the feet tickles/feet nibbles that bother you, I'm gonna highlight the last word before it and the first word after it in green so you can skip just that section if needed!!

thank you guys for being understanding <3

lee!george, ler!dream, ~12k words

enjoy!

--

Dream, Sapnap, and George had arrived back home in Orlando the previous day from their two and a half week long trip, which was split between North Carolina for George and Sapnap and then Los Angeles for all three of them. The plane landed on smooth pavement at 6pm on Monday evening, and the three went out to dinner and then headed home to finally get some well deserved rest and relaxation. They had all piled into the reclining chairs in the movie room, sharing the biggest blanket they owned in the house and watching a few hours worth of movies and TV shows, before finally heading up to their own respective rooms for the night. They planned to take the next day or two as well to get back on their Orlando schedule, since they wouldn't be traveling again for a while.

Fortunately for Dream, and unfortunately for George, this meant there was plenty of time for Dream to enact a very evil plan that he had been forming in his mind since he dropped the other two off at the airport to head to Karl's house. And Dream was not going to wait any longer to do so.

He'd prepared everything he needed to complete this task the night before, not wanting to waste any time or risk any complications the next day when he put it into action, so everything was completely ready to go when he left his room and left the door barely cracked behind him. He padded his socked feet across the floor with a subtle pep in his step, trying to stay as calm and collected as possible so he wouldn't risk revealing his plans too early. He planned to go up the stairs and head to George's room, hoping to find him there and make sure he wasn't still asleep, but he was redirected when he heard noise in the kitchen, switching to follow the sound instead to see who it was.

To his luck, it was George, nearly finished blending a smoothie at the counter with his back facing Dream. This, Dream decided, was the absolute perfect time to get moving.

"George?" He called softly as the whirring of the blender slowed to a stop, tapping his knuckle against the wall three times to alert George of his presence. The elder startled a little, whipping his head over to look at Dream, before a wide smile spread across his face. Dream couldn't help but smile as well. "Hey!"

"Hi," George responded, turning his attention back to the blender as he took it off the stand and began pouring it into a glass. Dream slowly walked over to him, gently bumping George's hip with his when he made it there and making them both giggle. George did it back, and they both giggled harder, and George shook his head fondly at the actions.

"Whatcha makin'?" Dream asked, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Smoothie. It's got, uh…" George paused, picking up the bag of frozen fruit and reading the list on the front. "Strawberries, pineapple, mango, and peaches in it. I usually make it with bananas but we don't have any so I used these instead… you wanna try?"

"Sure!" Dream agreed, nodding happily. To George's credit, his smoothies were always fantastic, perfectly blended and perfectly balanced in flavor. George took out another glass and poured Dream some of the smoothie mix, about halfway full just in case he didn't want to finish it, and he then grabbed a cup with a straw and lid that he'd set to the side and poured the remaining amount into it before putting it into the fridge. He stepped back over to where he was standing next to Dream, pressing into Dream's side as he picked up his phone, and Dream looked over George's shoulder as he sipped the smoothie to see him texting Sapnap that 'hey idiot there's extra smoothie in a cup in the fridge for you if you want it' before placing his phone back down on the counter, leaving it open on the text. 

"So?" George asked as he went to take a sip of his own smoothie, looking up at Dream and waiting for a response.

"It's really good! I like that you can taste the mango in it."

"Me too. I'm shocked I even got to use it, since all you ever do is eat the mango out of every package we buy."

"Ha, ha. Very funny. That's why we buy extra mango, you little idiot." Both boys smiled as they bickered, the jabs clearly playful, and Dream glanced over at the dirty blender before pointing at it. "Want me to wash that for you?" 

"Uh– yeah, sure, thanks," George nodded a bit as he spoke, smiling up at Dream in appreciation. Dream grabbed the blender, catching a glimpse of George's phone again and seeing that Sapnap had replied with two messages, saying 'no ew fuck you' and then 'thanks kitten <3' immediately after. He watched George type out 'i hate you' and then 'ur welcome stupid' and then turn off his phone and slip it back in his pocket, and he finally went to rinse out the blender. Dream finished washing it, rinsing the soap out and placing it upside down on the drain board to dry, just in time to turn around and see George about halfway finished with his drink. Dream grabbed his own empty glass, washing that out as well, just in time to reach out his hand and offer to take George's now empty glass too. George smiled at him again, letting out a small giggle this time at the way he was completely correctly predicted, and Dream finally finished the dishes and dried his hands.

It was now or never, he supposed.

"Hey, George?" He started off, leaning back against the counter the same way George was and placing his hand on top of it, behind George's back. His thumb was within reach of the back of George's t-shirt, so he slid it forward, curling his pointer finger around the edge of the counter and trailing the tip of his thumb against George's spine.

"Hey, Dream?" George mimicked Dream's tone, turning his head to look up at him.

"Do you remember what I told you right before you and Sapnap left?" George furrowed his eyebrows in thought, pressing his lips into a line and tilting his head to the side. "Like, right as I dropped you guys off at the airport, when I called you back to the car?"

"Um…" George said, before his eyes widened and he looked at Dream in shock. "Oh…"

Bingo.

"Aw, good! You do remember," Dream said with a smile, significantly more sinister than the fond one he'd been sporting the whole time. He slid his hand forward on the counter when he noticed George take a step back, leaning down to be closer to George's face and lowering his voice. "I think it's time I show you what I have in mind, don't you agree?"

"Drehe– Dreheheam I– I don't think that's nehecessary–" George stuttered, already letting out nervous giggles. He felt the heat rise to his face, positive that Dream could see the pink tint rising with it, but he still attempted to keep his cool. He stepped back again, then once more, then tried to take a third, but he was stopped by Dream's hand on his waist, pulling him close and tight into his chest. He gasped at the pull and leaned backwards, placing one hand against Dream's stomach to keep their distance and flicking his head down for a second to look at the grip Dream had on him before looking back up at him with wide eyes. "Dream, c'mohon. Don't."

"I want to, though, is the crazy thing," Dream said, squinting his eyes in a way that was just so Dream that it made George's heart flutter and made his giggles lighten up a bit more.

"Dream, no, we can't, I can't, I'm–" George tried to bargain, pushing Dream away and moving to take another step back.

Suddenly, Dream took his hand off George's waist and crouched slightly, wrapping his arms around George's thighs and lifting him off the ground, throwing him halfway over his shoulder and walking towards his own bedroom before George got the chance to even process what had happened. 

"DREAM!" George yelled, entirely caught off guard, squirming and kicking in Dream's arms and pushing at his shoulder to try to get away. "LET GO, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! PUT ME DOWN!"

"No can do, Georgie," Dream said, adjusting his grip and hoisting George up further when he began sliding down, making George squeak and grip onto Dream's shoulder harder. He went still for a second, regaining his balance so he could be sure he wouldn't fall and hurt himself if Dream did suddenly let go or drop him, before placing his free hand on the back of Dream's head for stability and moving the one that one on his shoulder up to cover his mouth. "My mind's been made up for two weeks. You can't stop me."

"Dreheheam, this– oh my gohohod–" George still let out his nervous giggles, butterflies erupting in his tummy as he thought more and more about what Dream might have planned for him. He dropped his hand from over his mouth to squeeze Dream's shoulder again, as they rounded a corner that made him sway a little too far to the side for his comfort. 

They finally made it to Dream's room, and George expected to be taken over to Dream's bed, but instead Dream walked past the bedroom door and into his office next to his bedroom instead. George laughed nervously as he was brought into the room, twisting and turning in Dream's arms to check his surroundings for anything suspicious. 

"Whyhyhy– why in here? Why– why nohot one of, like… our nor– normal beheheds?" George asked, obviously confused on top of his fluttery nervousness. Dream slid him down in his arms, barely a foot just to get closer to his face, making George squeak and grab onto both Dream's shoulders for stability as he slid. He was still unable to touch the ground, even when he looked down and stretched his foot as far as it would go, and the material of his t-shirt had caught between them, making George even more nervous as the bare skin on the now exposed strip of his stomach pressed against Dream's shirt as well. George couldn't stop giggling, the butterflies in his tummy threatening to explode out any minute, but he still looked at Dream and caught his eye when he noticed him staring at him.

"Why in here?" Dream repeated, earning a confused nod from George. Dream pushed the office door closed with his foot, smirking menacingly at George as he reached over to the knob, and George breathed anxiously at the sound of the lock clicking. "Because it's soundproof."

"Wh– DREAM?!" George yelped out in shock when Dream suddenly lunged forward and threw him onto the small bed against the wall of his office. He bounced on the soft mattress when he landed, taking barely a second to comprehend what had happened before he was trying to sit up and crawl off the bed, but Dream was even faster than him, jumping on the bed at the same time and immediately straddling George's thighs. "NO, NO! GET AWAY, GET OFF!" George shouted, sitting up and pushing at Dream's knees to try to get him away, then at his chest and shoulders, then against the mattress to try and push himself off as well, before Dream stopped him.

"Nope," He said simply, pressing one palm flat to George's chest and pushing him down against the bed. George fought him the whole way down, pushing against him and squirming and screaming and protesting, but it was no use. 

"DREAM, JUST– STOP!" George attempted one final time, as his elbows finally gave out and he was forced the rest of the way down, laying flat against the narrow bed, barely 30 seconds after he had been haphazardly tossed on top of it like an extra throw blanket. He breathed heavily, nerves bubbling up in his stomach, the rapid rise and fall of his chest barely even affecting Dreams's hand. "Dream. This is stupid."

"Relax. You're being a baby." 

"I'M– WHAT?!" George exclaimed, in complete disbelief at the accusation. He knew Dream had only said it to get a rise out of him, and embarrassingly, it worked like a charm. "DO YOU NOT HEAR YOURSELF?!"

"Oh c'mon, George, all I'm gonna do is tickle you until you cry, it's not that crazy," Dream explained casually, barely giving George time to react when he suddenly grabbed his wrists. George gasped and flinched away, pulling his arms away and holding them to his chest.

"WH– THAT– WHAT? YOU'RE– ARE YOU INSANE?" George sputtered, unable to form a proper sentence at first as the weight of Dream's words flooded over his body.

"Yes. Now give me your wrists," Dream said simply, holding out his hands and making subtle grabby hands at George's arms. When George didn't hand them over, he reached out and grabbed his wrists again, smiling menacingly as George struggled to pull them away again.

"NO?! Fuck off, Dream, no, Dream, NO!" George squealed, sliding his arms out of Dream's grip again. Dream simply grabbed him once again, holding tighter, until he decided to play into the fight and let George slip away so he could just grab him more. They continued their game of cat and mouse for quite a bit longer, with Dream laughing and giggling happily and George screaming and fighting for his life the whole time. "I'M NOT– STOP! LET GO, STOP IT!"

"Shhhh, relax, Georgie. Just relax." Dream soothed, finally deciding to put a stop to George's fighting and firmly grip his wrists, holding them up in the air above his face so he could see that Dream was serious this time. George gasped, letting out a small sound from the back of his throat when he tried to pull again and was truly unsuccessful. "Relax. Okay? You know I won't actually do anything bad, you're gonna be fine."

"Dre‐Dreheam– dohon't…" The smaller boy whimpered, shaking his head. Dream just giggled again, pulling his wrists upwards and placing a small kiss on each of them to comfort him. "Oh, Dreheheheam…" George whined bashfully, closing his eyes and turning his head to rest his cheek on the soft pillow behind his head.

"It's okay, sweet boy," Dream spoke quietly, dropping George's right wrist and tugging his left up to the corner of the bed. George's breath caught in his throat the second he felt his wrist being pressed flat against the top of the mattress, and he whipped his head around to stare wide-eyed at what Dream was doing. His squirming and pulling started up again the second he saw Dream pulling the cuff up from behind the bed and wrapping it around his wrist.

"NO– oh my god, Dream, don't, do NOT, don't do it, please, NO, DREAM–" George turned his body to the side, using his free hand to push as hard as he could at Dream's hands, trying desperately to get him away from his wrist. He heard the first clasp of the cuffs clink, followed by the second, and then Dream leaned back and left his wrist alone. He tried to pull on it, reaching up with his other hand to try to undo it himself, whining and whimpering when nothing worked. He yanked his arm as much as he could manage, biting back more nervous laughter when Dream then took hold of his other wrist, repeating his earlier actions and pulling it up to the opposite corner. "Dream, STOP!"

"Stop whining," Dream reprimanded, pulling up the second cuff and tightening it around George's wrist. He secured both clasps, twisting the material so it didn't irritate George at all, and then he backed off for a few seconds to give George some space. The elder, against Dream's words, kept whining, tugging at his wrists and letting his head fall back and his eyes squeeze shut when he realized he couldn't escape. Dream let him calm himself down for a few moments, before gently brushing his fingers through George's hair and resting the other hand on his hip, palm first so he knew the touch wasn't cruel just yet. "Hey, baby. Can you look at me for a second? Just a second. Then you can hide all you want." George whined, squeezing his eyes tighter before blinking them open and looking nervously up at Dream. As soon as their eyes met, George's shoulders relaxed, he stopped pulling at his arms, and he let out a soft breath. "There's my kitten, hi angel. You doing okay?" 

"Mhm, yeah," George responded, voice soft and slightly shaky already from all the yelling and heavy breathing he'd been doing that tired him out. Dream smiled down at him.

"Good." Dream reached his fingers up to mess with the cuffs, slipping his pointer finger into the tops of both of them as he continued. "These feel okay too? Not too tight, not too loose? They're alright when you pull on them?"

"Yeah, they're– they're good. They're okay." George pulled lightly on them a couple times for demonstration, nodding. Dream's smile widened, showing his canines and scrunching up the corners of his eyes.

"Perfect. If at any point you need to stop, like completely, a hard stop, you yell red, okay? Does that work for you?"

"Mhm, red. That's perfect," George said with a nod. 

"And if I wanna check in and everything is okay to keep going. you say green?"

"Green. Got it."

"And if you need a pause, just to catch your breath for a minute or two but not a completely hard stop, yell pause. I know we usually use yellow, because the light system makes the most sense, but I wanna give you all one syllable words in case it's difficult to get out. Does that sound good? Red, pause, and green?"

"Red, pause, and green. That's perfect, Dream." They both smiled, letting out soft giggles as Dream nodded this time. 

"Okay, great! Good… Really good," Dream mused, mostly to himself, patting George's side and then resting his palms flat on George's tummy. He tapped his fingers against George's tummy, through the material of his t-shirt, giggling as George sucked in his tummy and whined nervously, letting out a barely audible 'oh god' as he did so. "You ready, Georgie?"

"I dohon't– I don't really have much of a choice."

"Oh… yeah, I guess not, huh?" Dream said with a small chuckle, making George shake his head fondly.

"You're such an idiot, Dream."

"I know," Dream agreed, and then suddenly dug his fingers into George's upper ribs, where they started just below his underarms. George bursted into loud laughter, caught off guard by the quick movement, and he tensed his entire body at the feeling.

"FUCK– DREHEHEHEAM!" George squealed between his cackling laughter, throwing his head back against the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut. He shook his head, yanking at his arms to no avail. Dream pulled his fingers back slightly, this time rubbing slow circles into his ribs and the space in between. "Oh my GOHOHOHOD, Dreheheheam!"

"What's wrong, Georgie?" Dream asked smugly, tilting his head to the side in fake confusion.

"Ihihihit– it tihi– aha!"

"What was that? Sorry, you kinda cut yourself off a little, it what?" 

"Ihihit tihihihi– nahaha–!"

"Oh, it tickles? Well yeah, baby boy, I would sure hope so!" Dream continued to pretend to be concerned, and he reached behind him to grab one of George's ankles, slipping his right leg out from underneath him and holding his foot up in the air.

"Fuhuhuck yohohou!" George said, and then gasped and yanked at his bound arms as he realized what Dream was doing. "NO! No, no, nonono, don't, whatever you're gonna do don't do it, NO– NOHO, DREHEHEAM!" He was lost to hysterical laughter almost instantly, as soon as Dream began scratching over the sole of his socked foot with two fingers. He twisted and turned and pulled at his leg as much as he could manage, shaking his head wildly before letting it fall against the pillow underneath him. "Dreheheheam, plehehehease!"

"Oh, c'mon, Georgie. This is nothing, you've handled way worse than this," Dream encouraged in his own backwards way. "You will handle way worse than this." 

"Dohon't sahahay thahahat, oh my gohohohod–" George complained. Dream didn't respond, instead sliding his thumb into the top of George's sock and pulling it down his ankle, slipping it over his heel, still swiping his fingers up and down his sole in between movements. George gasped and pulled at his foot again, twisting and yanking a lot more frantically now, knowing exactly what was coming next. "NOHOHO, Dreheam, don't, dohohon't, don't you DAHAHAHARE– LET GOHOHO–"

"Jesus Christ, George, just– oh my god, stop KICKING– oh, you're being– you're so ridiculous, just–! STOP!" Dream fought with George's kicking leg the entire time, trying to find a way to keep him still enough to properly tickle him without risking a kick to the face. He pushed himself forward on George's other leg, wrapping his leg around the thigh that was held up in front of him to keep his leg in place at the top first, earning a squeal from the elder once he realized it was actually working. Then, he grabbed the toe of George's sock and slid it the rest of the way off, dropping it on the floor next to the bed before harshly grabbing George's big toe and holding him in place with one hand there and one hand cupped over his heel.

"Oh shit, oh gohod, Dreheheam–" George tried to plead, heart racing in his chest once he realized he was really, fully stuck in that position. Dream's hold was working, and they both knew that.

"God damn, now I can't even, like… how am I supposed to tickle you if it takes cuffs and every fucking limb just to keep you in place, like, do I just have to…" Dream mused, mostly to himself, but smiling at the whimper it got from George as an idea popped into his head. 

He tilted his head to the side and smiled wider, looking up at George and baring his canine teeth as he did so.

Then, he leaned in, and experimentally nibbled the side of George's incredibly sensitive foot.

George reacted immediately, squealing and trying desperately to pull his foot away, his entire leg flinching in Dream's hold. He scrunched up his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, pulling at his arms again.

Dream repeated the action, going further and leaving a few nibbles this time, and George bursted out laughing as soon as he did so.

"DREHEHEAM, WHAHAHA– whahahat the FUHUHUCK, DREHEAM!" George protested, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion at how the fuck Dream had an idea like this. "Wh–whahaha– WHY?! S-STOHOP IHIHIT! Whahahat the FUCK?!"

"Listen, okay!" Dream began defensively. "I couldn't tickle you with both hands occupied holding one of your stupid little squirmy feet in place, okay? So I had to think quickly, and this seemed like the best solution, so… deal with it," Dream finished, and immediately dove back in to deliver more devious nibbles. George flinched and squealed again, squirming the rest of his body as much as he could manage to get his energy out.

"Thihihis ihis fuhucking weheheheird, Dream, stohop!"

"You keep saying stop but you're not seriously telling me to stop. You know exactly what you have to say to let me know you need to stop."

"This is STUHUHUPID, Dreheham, gehet OFF MEHEHEHE!"

"Georgie, what's your color?" Dream asked, rubbing his thumb gently over where it was gripping the side of his heel. George went quiet for a second, whimpering and sighing in defeat before mumbling something incoherent. "What, George?"

"I sahaid greheen, idiot."

"Good boy. That's what I thought." Dream immediately resumed his nibbles, this time moving them up and down the inside of George's foot from the ball to right above his heel.

"Oh, FUHUHUCK– Jesus CHRIHIHIST, DREHEAM–" George screamed out through his laughter, trying desperately to get Dream away from his foot, but nothing was working. "Yohohou are soho WEHEIRD!"

"Oh, am I?" Dream asked between nibbles, moving to the other side of the same foot, the outside this time, to see if it would get him any different reactions 

"FUCK– YEHEHES! Yohohou're a fuhuckihing WEHEIRDO– GEHET YOUR STUHUHUPID MOHOUTH AWAY FROM MEHEHE, yohohou FREHEAK"

"Wow, weirdo and freak, huh? You really think that little of me, sweetheart?" Dream asked, exaggerating his sad facial expression when he caught George's eye. George immediately dropped his head back down to avoid looking at him for too long, knowing it would only make him giggle more, and groaned in frustration. He pulled at his arms again, yanking on them so hard Dream thought he might hurt himself, before trying the same with his legs with the same amount of success. He groaned again, falling off into a whine as the knowledge of how trapped he was kept circling around his head.

"Yehehes!"

"Yes?"

"Mhm."

"You really wanna stick with calling me a freak?" Dream smiled when he didn't get an immediate answer, having to bite his lip to stop himself from giggling at George's hesitation. 

"…Mhm."

"Hmm… okay then! If I'm a freak, I might as well embrace it just to make you miserable for a while," Dream said, smile still evident in his voice, as he moved his hand to hold around the middle of George's foot, nibbling suddenly on his toes. George absolutely screeched, before falling into helpless, squeaky laughter, shaking his head and pulling his leg as much as he possibly could.

"NAHAHAHA, DREHEHEAM!" George yelled, arching his back and crashing back down, squirming wildly against the blankets below him, desperate for some kind of help. "STOHOP, PLEHEHE–AH! PLEHEHEASE!" George squealed when Dream caught his third toe with his canine tooth, curling his toes to try and get away from the sensation. In retaliation, Dream forced his fingers underneath George's scrunched toes and scratched at the skin there– knowing that was one of George's most sensitive spots in that area, if not the most sensitive– and moved his other hand down to the back of his ankle so he could nibble at his heel as well. George squeaked, quite adorably, before bursting into broken laughter again, gasping for air whenever he could, and trying to kick his leg again. He had gotten so used to being held in place and having his kicks be pointless that he didn't expect much of it, and he was incredibly shocked when his foot actually moved forward this time.

Dream did not appreciate the movement like he did.

"Did you just kick me?" Dream asked in disbelief, and George was already shaking his head before he even finished.

"NO! No, nononono, I didn't, I promise I didn't, I didn't mean to, I-I didn't– I didn't think– you were holding and I thought– I thought it wouldn't–"

"You kicked me!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Dream, I'm really sorry, please, please don't do anything, please–"

"Y'know… I think your other foot could use some attention too, don't you?" Dream said as he pulled George's other leg out from underneath him. George protested instantly, but Dream just continued pulling it out, propping it up, and began tugging off his sock. He moved slightly, pulling his other leg back from where it was still wrapped around George's thigh to mirror the position with his new target.

"NO, DON'T– Dream, don't, Dream, please, you can't do this, I can't take it, please," George pleaded, tugging at his arms and staring up at them helplessly when he barely moved the cuffs an inch.

"You know what to say if you can't take it, baby boy," Dream responded casually, tossing George's sock onto the floor to join the other. He wrapped one hand around George's ankle and the other around the top of his foot, leaning in and nibbling the inside of it just the same as he had done to the other one.

George was lost in hysterical laughter immediately. 

"NOHOHO, Dreheheam, plehehehease!" He begged, twisting his foot however he could, using his now free leg to kick at Dream's thighs and stomach and arms to try to get him away. "STOHOHOP, DREHEAM, DOHOHON'T!"

"Kick me one more time and I'll tie your ankles and toes together and stay here the whole time. And I won't stop until you safeword," Dream threatened sternly, but his tone stayed casual, and George squeaked and immediately pulled his leg back, gently resting his foot on Dream's knee instead. "That got through to you?"

"Mhm," George whimpered, biting his lip and nodding.

"Good." Dream smiled, giggling to himself at George's tense body language. "Aww, sweet angel, I wouldn't be so cruel to you if you didn't deserve it. Take a breath, okay? You're alright," He soothed gently, patting George's foot and placing a soft kiss to his ankle. George nodded, and he did take a much needed breath, whining at the gentleness of the kiss compared to how fucking evil Dream was being to him. His reprieve was cut short, however, when Dream nibbled on his ankle lightly, making him squeal and let out a few tiny giggles again. Dream nibbled up his leg more, up the side of his calf, letting out little growls as he did so and giggling himself as George let out more confused protests at his actions.

"Whahaha–!" George giggled out, nose scrunched again and head thrown back. "Yohohou're soho WEHEIRD, oh my gohohod…" George complained, seemingly bashful, face burning bright red as he squirmed his hips slightly, sliding his heel against the bed and twisting his leg in Dream's hold.

"You're the one letting me tickle the life out of you though, aren't you?" Dream replied smugly, chuckling as George whined openly and squeezed his eyes shut. "Yeah, exactly. So you let me worry about how weird I am, okay, sweetheart?" Dream concluded, sliding his hands up George's leg. He wrapped one arm around his calf to keep it in place, letting the other hand come up to scratch behind his knee and returning to his nibbling, now hitting his inner thigh right above his knee. George gasped and squealed, whimpering as he tried desperately to hold in his laughter, his leg shaking in Dream's hold and his thigh tensing every time Dream's teeth grazed his skin. "Oh, c'mon, George, you can't hold back on me now." 

"Sh-shut uhuhup–"

"Come on, you know you wanna laugh," Dream teased, blowing a tiny raspberry right on the inner thigh spot he'd been nibbling and cheering when it caused George to flinch and burst into laughter. "Yes! There we go, that wasn't so hard, was it, my kitten?"

"Whaha– yohohou nehever sahay kitten?!" George asked, in genuine confusion at where the sudden use of that name came from.

"I feel like it's appropriate for today. I'm taking it from Karl and Sapnap," Dream explained, before getting an evil idea, saying it before he could stop himself. He continued scratching behind George's knee the whole time, keeping him giggling, but not too much that he couldn't respond. "You're my kitten today."

"Oh gohohod– juhuhust… shuhut uhup!"

"Shut up? Okay! I'll just go back to nibbling!" Dream said, leaning back in and nibbling on George's inner thigh again before he could protest. George flinched and squealed, yanking his leg away, and Dream just grabbed both his thighs right above his knees and squeezed rapidly. George yelped again, pulling his legs in as much as he could, but Dream just followed him as he curled up anyway. He tried to kick his legs out, but it proved to go even worse when that only made it significantly easier for Dream to push his knees down against the bed, continuing to grab and squeeze at his thighs.

"NO– FUCK! LEHET GOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEASE– FUHUHUCK OFF!" George screamed, drumming his knees against the bed as well as he could when he was still held down, twisting and turning his arms, shoulders, and hips in an attempt to get away.

"God, Georgie, I love hearing you scream," Dream commented, making George shake his head and clamp his mouth shut so Dream didn't get the satisfaction of hearing him. "Come on, baby. Don't hold out on me. You know I'll just make it worse," He said, and George whimpered, but shook his head even more. He kicked his legs again, and he was able to knock one of Dream's hands off, but Dream just let go of his other leg and used both hands to grab the kicking one instead. 

This time, however, he let George's leg drop down on the bed, pushing his knee down so his leg was slightly turned, and then pushed his shorts up a bit and leaned all the way down to nibble his inner thigh that way, keeping George's leg almost entirely immobilized against the bed.

Apparently, this was the worst thing that he ever could've done, because George was immediately begging, thrashing, screaming in laughter, doing anything and everything he could think of to get him to stop. Dream had no intention of doing so.

"NOHOHOHO, OH MY GOHOHOHOD– FUHUCK, PLEHEHEHEASE–" George screamed, turning to the side as much as he could and attempting to pin his legs together, but all he did was and up with his other thigh resting against Dream's head and keeping him in place between his legs. He kicked out instinctively, unable to do much else other than kick his leg uselessly against the bed and pull at his arms desperately. "DREHEHEAM, I CAHAHA– I CAN'T, I CAHAHAN'T! PLEHEHEASE!"

"This always has been one of your worst spots, Georgie, I'm kinda shocked I haven't lost a tooth yet," Dream said, unsure if George could even hear him over his booming laughter. 

"DREHE– PAHAUSE! PAUSE, PLEHEHEASE!" George shouted, and Dream pulled back immediately, pressing his palm to George's thigh and rubbing away the leftover tingles for him. "Hohoholy fucking shihit…"

"You okay? I didn't go too overboard, did I?"

"Noho, I'm fihine, I just… cahan't fucking breheathe…" George said, chest rising and falling rapidly as he gulped down some desperately needed oxygen. 

"Yeah… sorry, baby…" Dream mumbled shyly, adjusting their positions to be slightly more comfortable for when they continued. He moved to sit criss-cross between George's legs, grabbing his legs and gently laying them on top of his own thighs, so George's legs were almost wrapped around his waist. 

"It's okay. Thank– thank you for, uh, pausing when I asked, though. I thought I was gonna die," George said with a small laugh, turning his head to the side as his face turned even more red as the fluttering position he was now put into.

"Of course, angel, I would never, ever wanna make you uncomfortable. You can pause as many times as you want, okay? And we'll stop whenever you want too," Dream reiterated, and George nodded. Dream let his hands rest on George's thighs, tugging the legs of his shorts down where they'd ridden up before gently rubbing his thumbs over his skin. Seconds later, George whimpered and gave a light tug to his arms, squeezing his hands into fists and biting his lip. Then, he shifted his legs, curling them around Dream's waist and squeezing him, pulling him in closer. Dream chuckled, letting him squirm for a few more seconds, before finally putting him out of his misery. "You want me to keep going?"  He asked, and George nodded frantically. "I need a verbal answer, please, my baby kitten," He requested, knowing it would hit the nail perfectly on the head. George whimpered, tilting his head back, before nodding again.

"Yes, please," He mumbled along with his nod, just loud enough that he knew Dream would hear. Dream cooed, sliding his hands up George's thighs and resting them gently on his sides.

"Oh my god, you're so cute I could cry," Dream fawned, leaning over slightly to watch George's blushing face as he reacted to the compliment. He shook his head, squirming against Dream's hands on his sides, arching into the touch to try to get him to just shut up and get on with it, then whining when it got him nowhere.

"Shut uppppp, you're such an idiot," George complained, giggling when Dream delivered one tiny squeeze to his sides, already on edge of his next movement. He tensed his legs again, squeezing his knees tighter around Dream's waist, squirming as much as he could in his incredibly immobilizing position.

"I can't! You're just– you're so cute, like, just squirming around like a little worm and letting me completely destroy you and not even asking me to stop until you absolutely need me to, like– you're just like– you're adorable!" Dream finished off, bouncing George on the bed once just to test the waters, smiling as he broke into bright, giddy giggles, butterflies no doubt fluttering all around his tummy. "You're just so precious, Georgie, oh my god, you're literally like a little kitten, I just wanna–" He shook him again, repeatedly this time, holding his sides firmly and bouncing them both up and down against the mattress. George's giggles never stopped, and Dream giggled along with him, the silly, playful nature of the situation getting to both of them. 

"Dreheheam!" George squeaked out, laughter becoming more high pitched the longer the bouncing went on, and when Dream finally stopped and let him rest flat again he was already out of breath and limp once again from laughing. "Yohou're so duhumb!"

"You're the one who's giggling like a little baby at it! Maybe you're dumb, then!"

"Shut uhup! Just go alreadyhy!" George complained, and Dream could tell he was actually getting antsy, especially with the way his legs curled around Dream's waist and his knees struggled not to curl up.

"Okay, okay, fine. Party pooper." Dream moved his hands back down to George's hips, his thumbs resting right on the spot between the tops of his thighs and the jutting bones of his hips. He pressed in softly, and the second George felt the pressure on that spot he was already squirming and yelling. 

"No! Nononono, not there, not there, that is off limits, no!" George protested, yanking on his arms. Dream giggled, gasping as George pulled hard enough to actually slide himself up on the bed a few inches, squirming the whole way up. Dream grabbed his squirmy hips, pulling him even further down than he was before, and George screamed out as he realized he was even more screwed. Now, his arms were pulled taut, completely straight above his head and out towards the corners of the bed, and he couldn't bend his arms more than a few centimeters no matter how hard he tried to pull. His hips were tilted upwards now, his lower back resting against Dream's crossed ankles and his butt on his calves, and this time his thighs were in line with Dream's waist instead of his knees wrapping around them. "NO! NO, DREAM, DON'T, LET GO, LET ME GO, YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" He complained, trying to squirm away again, but he found himself pinned even worse than he already was. His entire torso was as stretched out as it could be, and he noticed the bottom of his t-shirt had ridden up as well. When Dream placed his hands back on his hips, he felt the tip of Dream's middle and ring fingers resting on his bare skin, and it took everything in him not to whine about it. He knew if he did, it would only make Dream torture him more. "Dream, please, please, this is evil, you can't do this, you know you can't!"

"Hmm… I think I can do whatever I want," Dream teased, and immediately dug his thumbs into the spot between George's thigh and hip that he'd teased already. 

George yelled, pulling uselessly at his arms, breaking into chest-aching laughter as he tried his hardest to wiggle his hips away from the tickles. He arched his back, dropping down only seconds later as his body seemed to give in on itself for a moment, before.his squirming and shaking started up again at full force.

"Jesus Christ, Georgie, this is a good spot, huh?" He asked, tugging down the waistband of George's shorts and boxers just a tiny bit to be able to slide his thumbs underneath and dig into the same spot, right into George's skin this time. George nearly hit the ceiling with how hard he jumped and arched his back, his laughter raising in volume and desperation as he shook his head wildly.

"SHUHU– SHUHUT THE FUHUHUCK UHUHUP!" George yelled, blinking his eyes open before immediately squeezing them shut again. Dream could barely see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, and he heard how hard he had to gasp to be able to keep any air in his lungs, and he sensed that if he kept up with this technique and spot any longer that George might call his safeword much, much earlier than either of them would've liked for him to. He stopped what he was doing, wrapping his hands around George's hips and rubbing over the bone with his thumbs, letting George take in a few breaths before continuing. 

"I'm gonna dedicate an entire day to that spot. Just so you know."

"I will… I will actually kill you," George responded between breaths, letting his tense body relax at the soothing touch.

"Meh… it'll be worth it," Dream said, and then he suddenly shifted himself and leaned down, nibbling right at George's protruding hip bones. George whined the second he touched down, squirming side to side and trying to slide his hips out of Dream's grip. "Oh, nibbles work well here, don't they?" Dream said, pressing his lips right against George's skin as he spoke, making him squirm even more.

"Sh-shuhut uhup!" George said for the millionth time, his tummy tensing and twitching with his laughter. His giggles were turning hicuppy, and he was not at all helped when Dream let the nail of his pointer finger scratch ever so gently over the line of skin between his hip bones. "Dreheheheheam!"

"George!" Dream responded, mimicking George's tone, pressing a group of tiny raspberries in a circle around George's hip and then jumping back into nibbling the bone. George squealed at the raspberries, arching his back again, his squeaky, hicuppy giggles making Dream want to continue forever.

"Dreheheam, plehehehease, sohomewhere ehehehelse!" George pleaded, whining again as Dream placed another raspberry down, on the inner side of his hip, and then followed it up with a soft kiss.

"Okay, but you're not gonna like it," Dream said as he slid his hands up George's sides, letting the hem of his shirt catch on his fingers and pushing it up to the middle of his ribcage. He kept his head against George's skin, resting his chin just underneath his bellybutton as he did so. George instinctively sucked in his tummy, pushing his chest up and curling as far away from Dream as he could, letting out a small noise of protest from the back of his throat.

"Oh god, why nohot…" George whined nervously.

"You know why, pretty boy." Without any hesitation, Dream leaned down and connected his teeth with the edges of George's belly button. The elder absolutely screeched, dissolving into flustered, breathy giggles, as he continued to try to curl away and suck in his stomach to get away.

"Oh nohoho! Nonono, Dreheheheam, plehehease, not thahaht!" George begged, kicking his legs out behind Dream, his tummy fluttering under the nibbles.

"Not that? Okay, let's try this then," Dream mumbled against George's tummy, not pulling away to speak this time, and making George flinch even more.

"No, no, NO– NOHOHO– Dreheheam!" George protested, as Dream slid his hands back down to George's sides and gently scratched at the backs of them, on either side of his spine. He arched his back instinctively, as far as he could, but he then had the horrifying realization that it only pushed his tummy further into Dream's mouth. And if he dropped down, he would land in Dream's hands. He was entirely stuck in place, giggling his head off, arching and curling up between evil fingers and even more evil nibbles, and he had no idea how he would handle the situation. "Fuhuck, oh god, Dreheheheam, plehehease, this is awfuhuhul."

"I know, baby," Dream mumbled, blowing another small raspberry right underneath his belly button just to see him flinch in both directions and let out another squeal. "Too bad I don't care."

"DREHEAM?!" George shouted in response, offended by the notion that Dream didn't even care that he was torturing him. Dream simply giggled, scratching even more unbearably light at his back and going back to nibbling the area all around his belly button.

George could feel every breath he took, expanding his chest and sitting between his ribs, and he could hear his laughter getting more squeaky and broken. He wasn't sure why, and he wasn't sure how, but it seemed like the more Dream stayed in those specific spots, completely unmoving and unwavering, the tickling only became more maddening. He was laughing harder now, way too hard for the soft techniques that were being used, and he realized he was becoming more frantic as time went on. Squirming more, gasping more, begging more, and once again, George was convinced he might die if he didn't get a break right that second.

"PAUSE, WAHAHAHAHAIT– WAHAIT, wahahait, wait, wait wait wait, wahait…" George babbled, catching his breath once again as Dream paused his tickling. Dream took both hands away from George's back, gently guiding his hips back down so his back was flat and his hips were against Dream's legs like before, helping his body relax. Dream rested one hand on his tummy, covering almost the entire surface of it and making George whimper through his breathing at the thought, holding his hip with the other one to comfort him.

"You okay? That one was more frantic."

"Yeah, yes, I'm good, I just– that, like, both at once, just… I couldn't do both at once."

"Too much?" Dream asked, slightly nervous at George's explanation.

"No! No, not at all, it just… it really, really t-ti…"

"Really, really tickled?"

"Shut up," George answered the second Dream spoke, making the younger bark out a laugh of his own, rubbing his palm over George's tummy to help calm him.

"You're cute," He stated, no question about it, making George scoff. "And pretty," He continued in the same tone, making George whine a bit at the compliment. They stayed silent for about 30 more seconds, before George spoke again.

"You– you can keep going now. Just don't do, like, back and front at once, okay? Two spots is fine, but that– that was a lot… and it hurt my back." George giggled at the end, shifting slightly in anticipation. 

"Of course, sweet boy. As long as you're comfortable," Dream agreed, patting George's tummy before sliding his hands around his sides again, holding him gently. "You are comfortable, right?"

"Yeah, I am. Somehow," George said, smiling kindly up at Dream. Dream smiled back down at him the same way.

"Good. That's good, because I'm gonna switch it up a little bit," Dream explained, rubbing his thumbs up and down George's sides as he spoke. George furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

"You're gonna switch it up?"

"Yeah. I think I've been too nice to you," Dream said nonchalantly, and George's eyes almost shot out of his head with how wide they got. 

"WH– you think you've been TOO NICE?!"

"Yeah."

"Dream, I-I've had to take two breaks so far!"

"Eh, could've been more. I haven't broken you yet." Dream smirked, and immediately dug his thumbs into the area right above George's hips so he wouldn't have time to protest. He screamed out, falling into loud laughter and bucking his hips uselessly to try and get him away. "I'm gonna keep going until you use your safeword. Use it whenever you feel you need to, okay, baby?"

Miraculously, George still managed to nod in understanding through his shrieks and squeals, and Dream decided he would get the show on the road. He leaned down again, blowing a line of huge raspberries up and down George's left side, pressing far into his skin and gripping his other side so he couldn't pull away. He gasped for air between every raspberry, never getting more than a few seconds of rest while Dream took in enough air to deliver another one. Dream finished with his left side after going from the bottom of his ribcage, down to his hip, then back again, and repeating that process without stopping probably four or five times– George lost count after the second– and then he switched to his right side, doing the exact same thing. Bottom of his ribs, down to his hip, then up again, repeated five times (George was more confident in the guess this time). 

"DREHEHE– DREHEAM, PLEHEHEHEASE!" He begged, voice broken and raspy, clearly nearing the end of its ropes and threatening to break and go silent very, very soon.

George's chest was already burning from his laughter, his throat dry and his stomach aching, and he had barely enough time to suck in two huge breaths and swallow his own saliva before Dream was already moving on. His next target was his tummy again, only slightly less cruel by avoiding his belly button. He nibbled up and down the sides of his tummy, as well as over his lower tummy, sprinkling in sporadic raspberries there as well. His laughter became less worryingly frantic with this technique, and he was able to calm down his shrill laughter enough to be bearable, even if it was still unbelievably hard for him to breathe.

"Dreheheheam, fuhuhuck! Oh gohohohohod, oh god, plehehehease stohohop!"

"No can do, Georgie!" Dream mumbled right into George's tummy, making him squeak even louder before falling into even more giggles. He nuzzled right into the side of his belly, smiling and giggling into his skin as he felt it flutter beneath him, clearly still tickled by his growing stubble and the rumbling of his words. 

"Stahahaha–"

"Is this a good spot, sweetheart?" Dream asked, dragging his syllables out as much as he could on the last few words. "Do you like it here? It sounds like you like it here."

"Nohohoho!" George immediately protested, shaking his head wildly. 

"Hmm… I think you like it there."

"Shuhuhut UHUP!" He could barely breathe to respond, gasping when he finished, shocked that any coherent words made it out at all. Suddenly there were hands on his ribs, and thumbs pressing into the middle of his ribcage on both sides– right between along the 5th rib from the bottom, where Dream knew was his favorite spot. "FUHUHUCK–!" He yelled, arching his back and trying desperately to dislodge Dream's hands. Nothing worked, and Dream's fingers stayed exactly where they were, massaging incessantly into his ribs, only moving every so often to switch to a different rib to keep George on edge. He continued placing tiny raspberries and nibbles all along the sides of George's belly, giggling into his skin every so often when he felt George have a particularly strong reaction. 

"How are you doing up there, kitten?" Dream asked, smiling at the way George stuttered through wild laughter as he tried and failed to answer. "It's okay, I know the answer is 'I'm doing great, Dream, thanks for asking, this is everything I want and more', right?"

"OH MY GOHOHOHOD, I CAHAHAN'T, DREHEHEAM, I CAHANT BREHEATHE!" George finally managed to get out, taking a huge gasp for air after he finished speaking before it was too late to try.

"Oh no! So sorry about that!" Dream said, cruely insincere, and George whimpered and cut his laughter off to swallow before exploding into another wave. "I'll get right on that for you."

"FUHUHUCK YOHOU!" George screamed, feeling the tears that had been forming start to finally slip out of his eyes when he squeezed them shut so hard he began to see spots. 

He felt his chest aching again, and he couldn't stop thinking about how desperate, how helpless, how utterly trapped he felt. His arms were useless, his legs were wrapped around Dream so he could barely even kick, and Dream was boxing him in pretty much completely– sitting between his legs, his hips on Dream's lap, hands holding his ribs, Dream's body essentially bent in half with his face pressed into his tummy– and he no longer had the strength to get away even if he'd been completely free. Those thoughts, combined with Dream's promise of 'I'm gonna keep going until you use your safeword' and his observation of 'I haven't broken you yet', circled rapidly around his brain, and only in that moment did he realize that Dream was actually going to break him. He whimpered, took in another sharp breath and swallowed, feeling breathless for a new reason, feeling his face flush even more and feeling the heat radiating off it when he turned his head to look up at his left wrist. He pulled at the cuffs a few times, less desperate and more observational, before whining again through his laughter.

"WAHAHAIT, WAHAIT, SLOHOW DOHOHOWN–" He pleaded, not needing another break but needing the absolutely maddening sensation on his ribs to relax slightly. Dream pulled his head up, moving his massaging fingers down to George's bottom ribs and drilling in circles, just to keep him laughing wildly and to make him arch his back with a choked noise.

He hadn't called for a stop or pause, so Dream wouldn't give him one.

"What's wrong, my kitten? Does it tickle?" Dream asked, faking his sincerity, which was almost more infuriating than him being obviously insincere. George groaned, squirming as much as he could through the discomfort of arching his back.

"Yehehehes!" 

"Aw, right here?" Dream said, shifting up to his middle ribs again and making him drop back down with a squeal and more boisterous cackling. 

"AHAHA– YEHEHEHEAH!"

"Really bad?"

"YEHEHEHES, YES, REHEALLY BAHAHAHAD!" George agreed with a frantic nod, hoping it would get him somewhere, yanking at his arms instinctively.

"Aww, baby," Dream said with a pout, shifting up to the top of his ribcage, barely below his underarms, and George squirmed nervously and tried to pull his arms down again at the proximity to such a deeply flustering spot for him. "I'm sure it does, angel. You poor thing. Poor baby kitten."

"Yohohou're so MEHEHEHEAN!" George whined, shifting his legs and kicking out as much as he could with Dream's body in the way. Dream laughed out loud at that, nodding his head.

"Thank you, I try," He responded, and then suddenly tugged the sleeves of George's t-shirt down to expose more skin and switched between fluttering his fingers and scratching his nails under George's arms. George's laughter switched almost instantly, beautifully, music to Dream's ears. His loud, painful, broken screams and cackles switched to incredibly shy, fluttery laughs and giggles, high pitched and continuous. His eyes relaxed slightly, staying squeezed shut, but not as painfully tight. His nose scrunched up too, and his head tilted back before falling to the side as he attempted to bury it in his arm. "Aw, baby, this spot is so embarrassing for you, isn't it?"

"Shuhuhuhut–" George cut himself off when his voice cracked, clearly hoarse and rough from everything he'd already been through. He clamped his mouth shut, trying to stay silent, but he burst back into bright and raspy giggles after only a few seconds. "Dreheheheam!"

"Yeah, sweet boy?" Dream asked softly, and George was too exhausted to care if that was real or fake sincerity. The name still made him whimper, hiding further in his arm. "Aw, c'mon, don't hide on me. Let me see your pretty face."

"Mm-mm, nohope," George protested, gasping and pulling on his arms when Dream scratched a little too close to the top of his underarm near his tricep.

"C'mooooon, please?" Dream pushed, reaching up with one hand to poke at George's cheek. George giggled and flinched away from the poke, squeaking when the hand went back down to his armpit, saying no again. "Okay, suit yourself," Dream conceded, and George peeked one eye out just in time to see Dream leaning down towards him, squeaking when he felt Dream press his lips right to the exposed side of his neck.

"NO, Dreheheam, doh–ON'T!" George squealed as Dream blew a raspberry against his skin, right in the middle of his neck, Dream's cheek pressed against his arm where it was still bound above him. He tried to scrunch his shoulder up without moving his face out of hiding, but it wasn't possible in his current position. "Dreheheheam, stohop, dohohon't do ihit aga–AHAIN!" He let out another yelp when the action was repeated, this time right behind his ear. He couldn't keep himself hidden through that, whipping his head back to face straight forward as he scrunched his neck up to get Dream away.. Dream did pull away, giggling at George's reaction.

"There's my pretty baby!" Dream exclaimed dramatically, making George groan, as he moved his hands up to hold both sides of George's face. "I missed you! Don't leave me again, stay like this." They both giggled at Dream's words, and George rolled his eyes and tilted his head back, letting his eyes shut again. "Okay, back to business!"

"Oh, fuhuck– FUCK!" George yelled out when Dream suddenly jumped his hands back down to his ribs, digging his thumbs into the same middle ribs and rubbing in quick, tiny circles. "GOHOHOD, NOHOHOHO!"

"Yes, Georgie, yes!" Dream teased back, continuing his thumb movements while he leaned down and blew a few more raspberries in a line on the side of George's tummy, nibbling in between them.

The switch from gentle yet insanely flustering tickling to the most brutal tickling George thought he ever felt was a lot, and it was way too much for his body to handle, sending a surge of energy that felt almost like an electric shock up to his brain the second it started. As soon as Dream caught the spot above his hipbone between his teeth again, George knew he had to call it quits, not convinced his body and mind could take much more torture without completely caving in on him.

"OKAHAHAY, OKAY, REHEHED, DREHEHEAM, PLEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOP!" George begged, yelling out his safeword in the middle of his sentence before collapsing into hysterical laughter, not even attempting to speak anymore. He trusted Dream to stop, and he did so the second he heard the word come out of George's mouth.

He rested his palms on George's ribs, pressing in with just enough pressure that George knew he wouldn't tickle anymore, but it would still push out the ghost tickles. Dream rubbed over his ribs for a while, letting him calm himself down and catch his breath, before glancing down at his still jumpy tummy and pressing one hand over it as well, repeating the soothing process. When he was done rubbing the residual tickles away, he placed his hands on George's thighs, rubbing his palms up and down the sides of them, until George finally seemed to fully calm down, at least enough to speak. 

"How are we doing, angel?" Dream asked softly, watching George as he wracked his brain for a response. 

"Mm… good…" He mumbled, his voice still shaky and hoarse. He swallowed, taking in another deep breath.

"Do you feel okay? Nothing hurts? Nothing feels bad?" Dream asked again, tapping his fingers against George's thighs gently. George shook his head.

"Mm-mm, everything's good. I feel good," He started, coughing a few times before continuing. "I mean… my throat is dry and my chest feels like it's on fire and I can feel your fingertips inside my ribcage, but yeah, I feel really good." They both laughed at that, and Dream nodded, reaching up and rubbing his thumb over George's ribs.

"Yeah, I… I may have gotten a little carried away. But you loved it, to be clear."

"Maybe I did."

"I mean, look at you. Like, actually, look," Dream said, and George lifted his head up as much as he could manage to look down at his torso.

There were red marks all over his tummy and sides from Dream's teeth and stubble scraping and rubbing ruthlessly against his skin. There were a few marks by his hips, slightly more faded than the rest, from the nibbles and digging fingers. And there were finger-shaped, bright red spots all over his ribcage from how harshly Dream had dug in. The sight made George's jaw drop, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

"Holy shit, Dream, did you turn into a monster or something? It looks like you tried to maul me," George said in disbelief, making them both giggle.

"I became a tickle monster, Georgie, what can I say," Dream replied, making them both fall into laughter again. 

Dream was seconds away from standing up and starting his plan of taking care of George, when suddenly he realized there was one tiny detail that had slipped both their minds.

While Dream's office was soundproofed, it didn't drown out every single sound. It was nearly impossible to, some small sounds would always travel out through cracks in the door if they were loud enough, and while they wouldn't be too audible, they could definitely be heard if someone was close enough to the door of the room.

And they had a third person in the house. A third person who had open access to the kitchen… that Dream's door happened to be in the direct path of.

Sapnap made it downstairs just about 30 seconds before George needed to scream his safeword, intending to go grab the smoothie the aforementioned man had told him was left in the fridge if he wanted it. On his way down, he heard a sudden scream coming from Dream's bedroom area that was directly next to the stairs he had just walked down, extremely muffled but still audible enough for him to be concerned. He turned to his left and walked barely three steps to Dream's cracked open door, pushing it open and stepping inside.

"Dream?" He said quietly, glancing around and seeing the room was empty. He heard another scream, and he was able to place it as George's this time, and he assumed it was coming from Dream's office instead. He walked over to that door, putting his ear up to it and hearing that he was indeed right– there was definitely screaming, and it was definitely George– before he gently turned the handle, slowly so as to not alert either of the other boys.

To his dismay (or relief, he wasn't sure yet), it was locked.

So, he pulled out his phone and pulled up Dream's contact, messaging him 'wtf are you doing lol' and then a second message that said 'are u killing him in there??'. He placed his phone back in his pocket, scurrying off to the kitchen to grab the smoothie he was originally going to get, before going back and standing outside the door, now curious about the answer.

That was the moment Dream had his realization, and he picked up his phone to see the text from their youngest housemate. Dream smiled, almost evil, before gently grabbing George's legs and placing them on the bed next to him so he could stand up. 

He stretched his legs as he stood, standing up on his toes and then dropping down, before stretching his arms over his head and arching his back, then relaxing that position as well.

"Hold on," He whispered, patting George's hip, before going over to the door and unlocking it. He opened the door slowly, cracking it open just enough to stick his head out and look at Sapnap. "Hey!"

"Hi! Um, are you guys okay? I thought I heard screaming and I just wanted to check in," Sapnap asked, fussing with the straw in his drink nervously, spinning it in circles. 

"See for yourself." Dream smiled at him, opening the door further and pressing his back to it, giving him space to walk in. Sapnap stepped past him, his eyes immediately focused on the bed, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

George was laying there, wrists cuffed above his head, breathing heavily, and looking completely disheveled. His hair was a mess, his shirt was still pushed up and his shorts were still tugged slightly down, his socks were still on the floor, and his entire body was flushed red and sweaty. Ordinarily, Sapnap would make a joke about the two doing something inappropriate in there, but Sapnap knew exactly what had gone on without even having to ask any questions. 

He felt the heat rising to his chest, his jaw dropping open and his eyebrows raised, feeling bashful himself just looking at the state George was in and thinking about how Dream managed to do that. He glanced up at Dream, giggling nervously, tapping the toe of his socked foot against the carpet. 

"Oh…" He mumbled, flicking his eyes between the other two. "Oh, God, uh… wow."

"Did this help you get the idea?" Dream asked quietly, gently placing his hand on Sapnap's upper back and rubbing up and down.

"Ye– yeah it did, uh…" He stuttered, letting out a shaky breath. "Well, um, you guys have fun, I'm gonna go back upstairs now," He said, smiling up at Dream before walking out of the room, sipping his smoothie as he left. Dream couldn't help but burst out laughing as soon as Sapnap left, closing the door behind him and bracing himself on the doorknob. He recovered quickly, letting out a few leftover giggles as he walked back to George.

"That was so mean," George said with a smile, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly. 

"Aw, come on, it was adorable!" Dream defended as he reached up to remove the cuff on George's left arm.

"You know how flustered he gets by this kinda stuff!" George sympathized, watching Dream as he worked. Dream finished removing the left cuff, gently taking George's wrist and placing a soft kiss to the red marks on it before guiding it down to him again. He started removing the right side as he spoke again.

"I do, but did you see his face! He got so shy so fast, it was so precious," Dream explained, pouting slightly at the cuteness. "I mean, it's not like he doesn't like it, he just gets embarrassed! It wasn't, like, making him actually uncomfortable. Just antsy." Dream placed another kiss on George's right wrist before letting go of his arms entirely, letting him have them back.

"That's true." George rubbed his wrists to get rid of the restricted feeling. He paused, smirking evilly up at Dream. "We should do this to him one day."

"I was already planning it the second I unlocked the door," Dream agreed, matching George's smile. He reached forward to adjust George's waistband, fixing it for him, before tugging his t-shirt down and patting his tummy gently, making George giggle and curl up. Dream turned around and reached into the mini-fridge next to his desk, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to George. "Sit up and drink this, please?"

"Mhm," George hummed, pushing himself up into a sitting position, his legs hanging off the side of the unnecessary high bed, kicking aimlessly as he thankfully accepted the water. While he drank, Dream kneeled down in front of him, grabbing one of his socks and bunching it up. 

"One." He gently grabbed George's swinging leg and slid the sock on his foot, pulling it up over his ankle and adjusting the top, before letting that leg go and repeating the process with the other sock. "Two. Perfect." George smiled down at him, silently thanking him for the gesture, before taking another sip of water and capping the bottle again. Dream stood up, running his hand through George's hair to fix how messy and disheveled it was, before jumping back on the bed and laying down behind George. Then, he wrapped his arms around George's waist and yanked him down to lay with him, making him squeal and giggle all over again, squirming around until he was comfortable. Eventually he turned over in Dream's arms, facing him this time, and settled down in that position. "Is this okay?"

"Mhm, of course," He agreed, nuzzling into Dream more. They ended up with Dream on his back, his arm underneath George's head and curled around his shoulders, with George's legs curled and one arm between his knees. His other hand played with Dream's fingers on his free hand, and he nestled his head under Dream's chin on his chest. "My tummy still hurts from laughing so much."

"Aww, baby," Dream cooed, pressing his palm to George's tummy. George giggled, nervous at the touch, holding Dream's wrist to make sure he didn't do anything. "Poor little tummy."

"Shut uhup, Dream!"

"I can't! I just can't help it when you're so cute!"

"Okahay, okay, shut up. No more teasing," George said, pulling Dream's hand back and cupping it in his.

"Ugh, fine. I'll be nice now."

"Thank you." George relaxed against him again, staying quiet for a second before saying something else. "You know I'm definitely gonna get you back, right?" He asked, and Dream hummed out a sigh.

"Yeah. I do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I kind of expected you'd want to."

"Good. Not now, though."

"No, not now. Now is cuddle time. I'll be nervous about payback starting tomorrow."

"Good. You should be."

"…You're gonna be ruthless, aren't you?"

"Ohhhh yeah. More ruthless than you could've even threatened to be to me."

"Oh god… should I be scared?"

"Very. I'm already planning it as we speak," George said with a chuckle, nuzzling more into Dream's chest and squeezing his hand. "Now shut up. Nap time."

And that is how Dream was left, wondering what George could possibly be planning, wondering when it would come. He knew by the next morning he would be scared out of his mind (he was never good with anticipation), and he would probably end up begging George to 'please just get it over with' in just a few days' time because he couldn't take the waiting.

But, for now, all he had to worry about was making sure George was comforted, safe, and held for as long as he wanted. So that's what he did, curling onto his side and wrapping his other arm around George's side just to pull him closer. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, hearing George chuckle softly, before they both drifted off into their well deserved nap for the foreseeable future.

[lol1tzme]

Fic prompt~

Phum centric..

-setted in future, Every couple are happy and busy in their everyday life, Peem owning his own art gallery and selling few of his arts whislit helping aunt pui with her cafe. Phum joining his dad's buisness, since their older brother was not interested and Fang became an architect, Q handles their family resort, Toey and Matt still studying, Tan handling his family garage, Chain became a dentist and Pun joined as a social worker helping different schools and universities and organizing camps.

-it was phum's b'day, although ever since he got peem and the friend group he never had a lonely b'day, but the past still lingered in his heart. Making him anxious everytime before his birthday arrives, and everytime his friends and boyfriends surprised him with a really nice birthday party.

-However this time, He and Peem had a argument just a few days before his b'day, It wasn't normal for them to have such long argument however it was a really serious argument, both of them too mad at each other due to it.

-It was the night before phum's b'day, the whole day, he was an anxious mess, he had an argument with his dad yet again at the company, due to their different views on one project and the argument with peem still going on, He was feeling like shit and couldn't find peem for comfort due to their argument. Everything happned was enough to make him anxious, he had not received even a single message from any of their friends, not even Fang had wished him. Fang and Beer were always the first to wish. But none had today.

-somehow he managed to sleep, convincing himself that they must be preparing a surprise, morning arrives and nothing...he was starting to lose hope, his thoughts convincing him that no one is going to come..he is alone again. Noon arrives, still nothing. Phum lost all hopes. He locked himself in the house, alone with his thoughts

-Peem who was just mad at phum, due to their argument, met up with the boys a night before, not even remembering that phum's b'day is tmr, he met yp for drinks with just him, chainpun, Q and Tan. He was too drunk that night, everyone where except for Q and Tan. Q and Tan did advice peem to talk to phum since ignoring is not the solution and peem decided to talk to phum the next day, however he woke up with a headache and hangover and decided to talk later, but was caught up with a problem with his next exhibition date, he decided to talk with phum after handling the issue, it got late in noon, he decided to cook for phum after going back home and having a talk.

-realization hit him harder than he expected, It was phum's b'day...he didn't wish him, no one did, reason he asked to not contact them for the whole day tmr, to leave them alone, not even realising that it was phum's b'day, the others thought they would just call in later at nigjt to wish, maybe that's what peem meant. A misunderstanding. Herealised how much he fucked up. He not only himself forgot to wish phum, the others didn't too, cause of his own mistake, he knew the other's must have mistaken his words.

-I don't know how he would make up, but I need some crying, some hurt, I already gave the angst and Comfort, a lot of comfort since phum deserves the world. Peem shouldn't be that guilty since its not his fault other than forgetting the b'day and that was also due to the heated argument they had days ago and his anger took over his usual calm demour.

-you can even chose what could the argument be based on since I don't really much idea...

-just a hurt/comfort phum centric fic and PUPPY PHUM...BOTTOM PHUM If you could pls...(It's just my request, you could make it top phum too but I would prefer it bottom phum)

-hope it's not hard to understand, point out if you can't understand~ TAG ME IF YOU WRITE IT PLS PLS PLS PLS PLS

[mxlfoydraco]

Hello! I came upon one of your rec list on the drarry tag earlier and I was wondering if you still do them? If so, do you know any drarry fic that is draco + career centered? Like draco being excellent at his job and it being more in the foreground. Something like Heal Thyself by astolat or Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton. Competent draco is the norm but I was wondering if you know of more fics that explores his/their careers more :) Love your blog 💕

Hello friend! I'm very tentatively doing recs always with the caveat that I'm not super up to date. I think majority of the fics in the Draco-centric list fit this description so I'll add onto that without repeating myself.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound (2014, E, 150k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

What Dreams May Come by @firethesound (36k)

If Harry had to get called into work on his day off, at least he was able to get Malfoy called in too.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (146k)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge… especially from Potter.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 (91k)

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

The Four Doors by @fluxweeed (48k)

It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy.

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash (34k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things. feat. sad boys in jumpers and more ABBA than is probably necessary

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl (364k)

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (114k) Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

Taking Chances by @gracerene (135k)

After the war, Draco disappeared and started over in America, vowing never to return to Great Britain and the fraught past he left behind. Unfortunately, when his mates convince him to sign up for an exchange programme for the last year of their Auror Training, Draco learns that he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Conquering the Dark by @noeeon (23k)

Harry's a Healer specialising in the care of children, Draco Malfoy's an expert in neuromagic at St Mungo's. A difficult case forces them to work together and, in the process, unearths some of the trauma of the past, as well as the chance for healing in the present.

The Printed Press by Soupy_George (119k)

Draco has worked hard to gain a reputation as an unbiased reporter for the Prophet. He never imagined this would lead to Harry Potter offering him a job, or how much accepting said job would change his life.

Home Truths by @skeptiquewrites (67k)

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre (29k)

All over London portraits are disappearing from their canvases. Auror Harry! Expert-in-Magical-Art-Theory Draco! There's running, dancing, falling through ice, what’s this paper giraffe doing here? A great time was had by all.

Under Giant Mountains by @wolfpants (33k)

Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed? In which Harry's trip to Norway to visit dragon-wrangler Ron introduces him to hikes from hell, mysterious natural magic, foraging, magical bathing, a new and bizarre friendship, and the frustrating, heady allure of his former nemesis turned sexy globetrotting field researcher.

Paper Rings by @lettersbyelise (50k)

When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart. What Harry and Draco used to be is all in the past. And surely they can work together in these new, emotionally charged circumstances without falling in love all over again… can’t they?

The Kisses Don’t Count, If No One Else Knows by oldenuf2nb (41k)

Minister for Magic Harry Potter does not love his job. The one bright point in his life is his secret relationship with Quidditch Super Star Draco Malfoy. When they're 'outed' by a peeping tom with a camera, Harry has to decide what's really important.

The Truth About Love by @amywaterwings (52k)

In which Draco is a high-powered magical divorce lawyer and Harry is the Unspeakable assigned to seduce him. It goes as well as one might expect.

Picking Up Pieces series by TessaCrowley (22k + 21k) The Unbearable Burden of Caring: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other’s identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple. Sins and Scars and Shattered Things:  Fifteen years have passed since the War, but the wizarding world isn’t quite ready to forgive Draco Malfoy for his past sins, or for being in love with Harry Potter. For a former Death Eater who escaped conviction, it is a trial by fire.

Coffee, Cakes and Doorknob Snakes by Omi_Ohmy (40k)

Harry's house is trying to kill him, and only one person can help him: pity it's Draco Malfoy

I Do Not Love You by Writ_and_romance (228k)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home. In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy's relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love. A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.