#it could be 'love should be strong. nevertheless...' which would be a completely different meaning

[bulgariansumo]

(愛は続けることに意味がある, 1993)  

[ankulometes]

The Travellers, Vol 12, Pt 3: The Civilization

Non-variants would soon enter the picture. The team members would have natural born offspring. They would encounter the pre-existing inhabitants of the British Isles. More newcomers might arrive from the continent. It was vitally important therefore that their culture and civilisation had a coherent and complete form. They needed concepts that were expressed in language, technology, art, music, myth, and philosophy to tell their own people, and those they met, who they were. Naturally, they all had their stories straight on this score. They had been thinking about it and trying stuff out for long enough. Their ideas would inevitably be subject to change over time as non-variants became increasingly significant players in the cultural, political, economic, and intellectual development of their society, and this was a desirable phenomenon from their perspective. Nevertheless, the starting position was critical.

[[MORE]]

On top of the increasing presence of non-variants, there were the criteria by which the team would ultimately judge the success or otherwise of their mission. Although they possessed more latitude than before in the means through which they might be realised, these were little different to the goals they had consistently pursued through all of their interventions.

The crew wanted the civilisation they built to be as equitable and meritocratic as possible without imposing oppressive homogeneity that impinged upon vital creativity, liberty, and difference. They aimed for it to value peace and be open and welcoming to others while being sufficiently strong and coherent to resist aggression and threats to its integrity when necessary. It was important that it would value and reward knowledge, skill, inventiveness, and human achievement yet possess a sufficient level of wisdom and humility to maintain a critical attitude towards itself and remain appreciative of its relationship to, and dependence upon, other cultures and the natural world. The people should be both capable of and willing to educate and nurture their young and care for their sick, elderly, and disabled. Also, it should be fun loving, not take itself too seriously, and have a sense of humour and an enjoyment of entertainment that did not revolve around cruelty and humiliation.

At the heart of many cultures, one can find a concept of truth, even if it is only tacit. Indeed, cultural identity as such might be described as a set of humans defined by the presence of a sufficient degree of correlation in their beliefs concerning what is or is not true. For everyday purposes, this concept of truth needs to be simple and intuitive enough for most people to be able to apply it instinctively most of the time.

The variants would deploy a concept of truth that drew on correspondence, coherence, and pragmatic theories. In broad outline, this held that something was true if it could be demonstrated in practice to correspond to an actual state of affairs and did not contradict other known truths (in which event one must be false). This formulation, which probably appears rather simple and obvious to someone from MOT raised in the Western philosophical tradition, has far reaching and significant implications.

Clearly, it demands a language grammar and vocabulary for expressing truth statements. However, it further suggests the concept of the “experiment” which necessitates shared systems of quantification and measurement. These amplify the importance of literacy and numeracy, which in turn transform one’s relationship to a host of phenomena, including time and memory. Although they would start slowly, the culture of “Albion” that the variants were developing would start at the outset with an alphabet based on Latin, a base-12 floating point numeric system with a zero concept derived from Indo-Arabic numerals, and units of measurement for length, angles, area, mass, volume, time (a lunisolar calendar, sundials, and sand or water timers), and even temperature (using bi-metallic strips).

They would benefit from a whole matrix of technologies that are either necessarily associated with, or can be easily inferred from, the existence of some of these ideas that would form the basis of their civilization. Some of these I have already mentioned: blades, bows, saws, shovels, picks, planes, hoes, wheels, sails, pulleys, levers, screws and the like. Others such as pens, ink, and paper were also in the mix. Indeed, there were so many that it is probably more illustrative to provide some examples of things that were most definitely not going to be given in this context.

Things like heat engines, electricity, the wave character of light and sound, the atomic nature of matter, the functioning of planetary and stellar rotations and orbits: all of these are non-obvious ideas that can be modelled in different ways for practical purposes and the accurate elaboration of which typically depends on a whole series of complex intellectual and technical developments. The new society the team was building would know nothing of these things at the outset. So long as you could potentially measure the angle of the sun, the speed of something or other, or the temperature of an oven, that was a sufficient starting point.

It should be self-explanatory by now that any society capable of developing this kind of intellectual and technical base within a fairly short period of time could not be theocratic. They had to have been people who valued knowledge and believed that it could be obtained through human action and thought, rather than simply being conferred upon them from above. Nevertheless, plenty of unknowns remained and they would require an ethical framework of higher order concepts to prevent them doing harm to themselves, others, or the world in general. Moreover, such matters would necessitate narratives to facilitate the effective communication of abstract ideas in addition to providing an explanatory structure for the origin of things and the nature of certain unknowns. Last, but by no means least, it would be convenient for the variants if these made it easier for them to do some of the more magical things they needed to do, such as substitution of their own children.

Despite their modernist aims and conceptions of truth, the variants were not naive positivists. They had no desire to peddle scientism and were well aware of the fact that people often need a belief system that provides meaning, purpose, and the possibility of redemption, even if it is essentially untrue. Shared systems of faith also provide a valuable tool for developing and sustaining social coherence. However, since they would almost certainly evolve into an organised religion over time that fed into myriad political and economic aspects of the civilisation, the choice concerning what to believe was vital.

Therefore, beyond simple binary notions of true and false, their frameworks of thought, language, and grammar would support ternary or even quaternary truth concepts, the additional positions within which might be summarised as “not true” and “not false”. These named the unknowable, the unnameable, or that which was in the process of being disclosed or concealed. Consequently, falsehood was not an absolute negation of truth per se but an independent idea of “untruth” that existed on a scale between it and the verified truth along which belief might be held as true or false in particular ways or pending certain facts.

At its root, the variants had developed a collection of mythological narratives over the years that told the story of the creation of the universe from the nothingness of the Big Bang and the ensuing collisions of matter in space, but in a highly simplified and anthropomorphised form. This creation myth ultimately ended with the births of numerous constellations of stars, the sun (“Haul”), the moon (“Lun”), and earth (“Naear”). Ultimately, there were also figures in this pantheon for all the major features of their immediate landscape, such as the British Isles as a whole (the giant “Albion”), the islands of Britain (“Pryddana”) and Ireland (“Eriu”), right down to important hills and rivers (such as “Tamesis” and “Hafren”).

At the outset at least, and on the part of the variants, there would be little pretence that these were anything other than stories which helped explain certain aspects of the world which they had left unexplained, guide ethical action, and aid a few more practical concerns, such as navigation.

The ternary concepts of nothingness and somethingness along with the disclosive space in between would be fundamental to their myths in other ways too. Aside from providing an illustration of numeric concepts, they established a context for the “otherworld” (which they called “Annwn”) of things like birth, death, dreams, and intuition. The emergence of life from nothingness and its subsumption into death was elaborated as a symbiotic cycle in which all the elements of the visible waking world were balanced by counterparts in the otherworld of Annwn.

Annwn provided a valuable spirit world which opened the way to the notion of communication with, traversal between, or even return from it. In addition to facilitating substitution, it enhanced the sacrality of the natural world in a manner that could be leveraged to promote care for it. It also riffed on ideas such as ying/yang and karma: a death and departure from the waking world was a birth or arrival in Annwn and vice-versa. The spirit of those thought to have been good in life might return in a new form to help overcome evil in this or those who had committed wicked acts might win redemption in the world of the spirits if they learned the error of their ways and atoned.

Over the long term, the maintenance and telling of these stories would be the province of a technocratic class of learned men and women known as the “derwid”. These people would be less a “priesthood” than an intellectual caste who, aside from telling didactic stories which made abstract concepts more tangible, would serve as philosophers, scientists, engineers, doctors, surgeons, architects, lawyers, historians, and artists. Their numbers would be heavily skewed toward variants, and their exclusive hold over advanced knowledge throughout the early years of their culture (before they began to write books) would help to obfuscate their origins in the mists of time.

Alongside these myths was another tranche of stories which we might call legends or folktales that, while still used by the derwid, were not their exclusive domain. These legends provided origin stories and role models through narratives that were centred around definitively human action. They involved figures such as the prototypal derwids, Orin and Aeron, the valiant leaders, Lugh and Lleua, and the nurturing leaders, Ceri and Carys, the smith, Gofannon, and the farmer, Amaethon among many others.

The myth and legend cycles also lent explanatory power to other phenomena and social structures, especially the calendar. As had been the case whenever possible on prior missions, the variants were going to be using their preferred perennial lunisolar system. However, they had made a few modifications to its structure.

The year would be split into 52 weeks (with 1 to 2 intercalary days) that provided a rhythmic structure with regular breaks from work every 7th day (known as the “setath”). These sat within a larger structure consisting of four seasons, each around 12 weeks long, that were divided by the week-long festivals of Ostara, Litha, Mabon, and Gheol that were set around the solstices and equinoxes. These seasons were further subdivided into two halves by the lesser festivals of Imbolc, Beltane, Lammas, and Samhain. The precise points in the tropical year at which these occurred would move over the coming millennia as the inclination of the earth’s axis changed, so their calculation was inevitably the province of the derwid. The variants fully intended to introduce thematic ceremonies as a focal point of these festivals. However, they would mainly be an opportunity for people to let off steam and have a good time.

The cycles of the seasons were loosely reflected in a series of tripartite divisions for the path of life. The period from birth until 6 years of age was considered to be a period of infancy during which there were few social expectations other than to survive, grow, and learn the basics of movement and speech. Upon reaching one’s 6th summer, one would be initiated into the community during the festival of Litha. From then until the age of 12, one became properly a “child” and expected to learn the fundamentals of knowledge, including reading, writing, and maths that would lay the foundations for your participation in society. Another rite followed in your 12th summer when you officially became a “youth”. At this point, while still not a fully-fledged member of one’s tribe qualified to do things like swear oaths or bear witness, you would gain the right to do things like carry a knife (which you would be given) and would be held accountable for your actions. During one’s youth, between the ages of 12 and 18, you would continue to learn but also start to contribute by taking apprenticeships or being packed off to study with the derwid. At the age of 18, you became a fully-fledged adult with all the responsibilities that came with that status. In addition to being gifted symbolic artefacts during each of these rites of passage, one was tattooed as a permanent mark of attainment and belonging. However, your life was hopefully far from over.

The three stages of development (infancy, childhood, and youth) were followed by three further stages of adulthood, each again lasting 6 years, during which one was expected to gain first knowledge, then experience, and finally wisdom. If one reached the age of 36, one gained elevated status as an elder. Nevertheless, once again, one’s development was hopefully not finished yet. The third meta-phase of life was similarly divided into three stages of “evaluation” or “consideration”, “compassion” or “insight”, and “judgement” or “transcendence”. However, this time each period lasted 18 years. Frankly, if you lived much beyond 90 years in the absence of modern medicine, vaccines, and antibiotics it was a miracle. But it wouldn’t be unheard of in their society.

All these beliefs and rites naturally informed the political and economic structure that their civilisation would adopt, at least at the outset. It should come as no surprise that it would probably best be described as a technocratic gerontocracy.

Although their members would often be embedded within settlements, the derwid would ultimately form a tribe apart consisting of experts and specialists who were frequently itinerant. It was regarded as a vocation, rather than a job. While it would be taboo to refuse hospitality to one of their number, and unadvisable to shun their aid or advice, they would receive no remuneration for their work and would not constitute any formal part of political administration as such. Similarly, while everyone was required to learn a variety of combat skills from the age of twelve, train regularly, and do their duty when called upon to do so, derwid were not required or even expected to fight, although many would.

On a day-to-day basis, tribal affairs at a local level would be governed by a council or assembly of the elders (i.e. those of 36 years of age and above) known as the “laenoriad” who would elect a leader. This leader, who gained the honorific title “Ben”, did not necessarily need to come from among their number: it could be any nominated adult (i.e. at least 18 years of age). This chief would also serve as a judge with the laenoriad functioning as a jury. Thus, they would collectively form the legislature, the executive, and the judiciary. Beyond these outline constraints, how they arranged their affairs internally was entirely up to them to decide, but the principle that power came with responsibility which could only exercised effectively by those in possession of wisdom and that power was conferred (or revoked) through an act of consensus were both key. Eventually, as the number and size of settlements increased, a hierarchical series of supra-tribal councils would emerge consisting of all the leaders from a particular region and from across the British Isles as a whole.

Another important problem that it was vital to nail early on were the systems of distribution and exchange. Even when they only had the one settlement, people would not be able to do everything for themselves and stuff would need to be shared around. There were several basic options.

Barter is commonly regarded as a kind of default solution to the problem of exchange. In the absence of any other formal mechanism, this is correct insofar as people will arbitrarily exchange things in their possession or power to obtain others that are not which they need or desire, on an ad hoc basis. As a fallback, it is something that is liable to occur in any context. However, as a systemic approach it is deeply flawed. Barter encourages the appropriation and hoarding of resources, often through the violent exercise of power. It rapidly degenerates into a social order based on brute force that exhibits extreme forms of oppression and inequality. This is why it is typically regarded as an inverse index of civilization. Its very presence is indicative of barbarism.

A widespread early alternative was the so-called “palace economy”, or command economy, in which all resources are pooled with a central authority that is subsequently responsible for their distribution based on whatever criteria are deemed to be appropriate. While this method can in theory be egalitarian, it is deeply susceptible to corruption and tyranny. Moreover, by building in a single point of failure it becomes prone to political instability since, whenever failure occurs, there is typically no fallback other than a return to barter.

Another solution that was often developed in the ancient world was that of the gift economy. These often demonstrated beneficial side effects in terms of things like social coherence and trust. They operate through the extension of a form of loan in which goods or services are advanced by one party in return for social credit and the expectation of a return on this investment at a later date. Such things are all well and good but, as an exclusive system, it rather limits the ability of people or groups to proactively secure the resources they need right now. Consequently, it often tends to exist in conjunction with other forms of exchange, such as barter.

Then of course there are market economies. Obviously, that is a big and complex topic. I use the plural “market economies” deliberately because there are many different types of market, only one of which is the ideologically charged concept of a “capitalist free market” economy. For my purposes here, I am going to define a market economy as a set of one or more governed forums that exist within the context of the same coherent legal framework in which individuals or groups exchange goods and services via an intermediate form that consists of a representation of value.

Markets are an excellent structure for exchange. Their capacity to adopt a distributed, cellular form gives them the potential to be flexible and resilient. However, from the standpoint of the above definition, they are merely the bread in an economic sandwich that one loads up with the desired ideological fillings. These fillings are typically embodied in the legal frameworks of governance and the intermediary form utilised to represent value as an exchange medium.

The variants had never lost their agreement with certain fundamental aspects of a Marxist analysis of capitalism. Indeed, they had developed their position to an unparalleled degree of refinement over the years. One of Marx’s arguments with which they agreed was that, within the context of a capitalist market economy, the exchange value of commodities is ultimately regulated by socially necessary labour time. However, unlike Marx, they did not support a commodity theory of money. In their view, things like the gold specie standard merely served to obfuscate the more accurate description of money as an expression of purchasing power that ultimately reflected social status and class. Money in this context was always an abstract relative value, even if one rather foolishly chose to base one’s currency system on a scarce commodity. On past missions, the team had adopted metallic currencies for reasons of expediency and inherited context. Now that they were freed from such constraints, they were going to go down a different path.

The unit of currency in their new civilization would be based on labour time. In principle, this can be used to determine both wages and prices. For example, let’s say that 1 currency unit is equal to 1 hour (as defined at the point of the summer solstice, since they were using sundials, and winter and summer time divisions were of differing absolute duration).

Now let’s say for the sake of an example that, on average, a baker can produce 10 loaves of bread per hour, a potter can make 1 pot per hour, and a blacksmith can make 1 blade in 10 hours. In theory, the baker’s “wage” production costs would be 0.1 currency units per hour while the potter would earn 1 unit and the blacksmith 10 units; i.e. assuming that all the commodities they produce have an equal use value, we can posit their wage rate as 1 hour divided by the average number of these commodities that are produced per hour. The sale price would then be the wage cost plus the price of the materials required to produce it. Thus, ignoring the cost of materials and other capital expenditure, they each earn 10 currency units from the sale of the produce from 10 hours of labour time.

However, this can penalise time intensive functions or promote redundant production on the false assumption that all commodities are of equal value. In reality, practically no one was a wage labourer in their society anyway. Certainly not yet. When that phenomenon did rear its ugly head, wage levels would be set in the usual “capitalist” way as a function of supply and demand combined with political pressure and negotiation. In the variants’ civilization, at least at the outset while the economy remained very small and simple, prices would be determined firstly by the derwid as a function of a determination of socially necessary labour time such that everyone possessed a more or less equal purchasing power that would enable them to obtain an equitable share of the total available produce, and secondly by the laenoriad as a means of promoting socially necessary production.

The critical point about using time hours as an index of currency value was that debts would be redeemable at the last resort through the one resource to which everyone had free access: time. Moreover, it provided a tangible baseline for assessments of value with easily understood judicial ramifications. Nevertheless, once again, it wouldn’t work in practice that if you lent your mate Bob a tenner and he failed to pay it back you could literally make him work as your own indentured slave for a period of time. Like any debt in our world, you would have to lodge your claim in court. If the loan agreement was deemed to be legal, and Bob was found to have defaulted, then the “state” would simply issue the money to pay you what was owed and a certain amount of either Bob’s time or income would revert to the state for use in the public interest. Or their own personal enrichment, depending on how your tribe was running itself at the time.

This legal procedure also indicates how money would come into existence: the state would simply create it and spend it into circulation. Once again, time-based monetary units help to provide an indication of how much money should be created since the total value of all currency in circulation should be sufficient to pay everyone for all their time. In the case of our crude baker, potter, and blacksmith example, if these were the only three people in your economy, then you would need to issue the equivalent of 11.1 units per hour of work to be completed.

One of the other major questions that needed to be addressed was the physical form that the currency would take. Part of the appeal of metallic currencies was that, even in the event of the collapse of the issuing authority, people still had faith in the idea that the base metal itself would be accepted widely enough as a barter exchange medium. Moreover, making coins from expensive scarce materials over which it was comparatively easy to exert monopoly control discouraged counterfeiting. Paper money, as one alternative, lacks both qualities. Matters such as theft and durability are also pertinent issues. For the variants, the answer to these questions lay in the comparative simplicity of their society and economy and the control it would exercise over markets through its legal framework.

They intended to largely resolve the questions of theft, counterfeiting, and durability by simply not issuing the currency in a physical form at all. Or, rather, by inventing a form of banking and operating this as an exclusive state monopoly.

On market days, or at any other time one wished to go shopping or do business, one would visit the bank and make a withdrawal from one’s balance. In return, one would receive some suitably authorised paper scrip (or a quantity thereof in various values) which named you as the owner of this money and detailed the date on which it was issued and the date when it would expire (usually no more than 1 day). When you purchased something, you would name the recipient and add your own signature in the relevant space. The recipient would then return it to the bank at the end of the day’s trading at which point a balance transfer would be completed.

If you wished to shop at another, more distant, market you could still use the same scrip, so long as it had not expired. It would eventually be reconciled and, if you ran up a line of credit this way by racing back home and withdrawing more, you would soon be caught and punished. You would owe money or labour time in accordance with the court’s estimation of the rate at which this should apply.

Alternatively, you could carry a simple dated balance statement which would be added to your account at the destination following which you would be able to withdraw scrip in the usual manner. However, you would not be able to withdraw any more scrips from your “home” bank until you returned the updated balance document which would have been given to you when you banked the scrip at the distant market.

For foreign trade, you would need to withdraw scrip to purchase gold, silver, or some other commodity for use in a barter exchange. That’s what international trade is at heart. Especially in the days before globalisation. Certainly, it barely even existed at the time the variants were currently living in, and it would be a very long time before it was regulated at all.

Thus their “bank” was more of a “tally shop”. Money was simply a temporary localised physical representation of part of this balance; a series of chits and tokens produced on cheap, plentiful, ephemeral material for the purpose of value exchange and transfer. It did not bear interest and, although it could potentially be loaned, the charging of interest on such would be specifically prohibited. Courts would be under no obligation to bail you out for irresponsible loans. The creation of the money in the first instance would be entirely the province of the state who would simply spend it into existence via an act of accounting.

Of course, in the early days of their settlement, hardly any money was used, and no one really needed to worry if they had none. The essentials of life were shared freely and, since the population consisted overwhelmingly of variants, there was practically no conflict or contention over this.

Indeed, one might wonder why they didn’t simply operate a much simpler palace economy. Such a system would have satisfied their needs at the beginning. However, for the reasons noted above, it wouldn’t scale effectively. Moreover, a well-governed market economy utilising a sensible currency system can be liberating.

In a command economy, one is effectively an employee of a single monolithic state bound to follow their instructions concerning what to produce. You are subsequently given very little choice about what one consumes and when. Selling into and buying from a market allows one to choose what one produces or consumes, how much, and when. If you want to blow all your credits on ale, then go for it. Alternatively, if you have a yen to try making something radically different, you can have a pop.

The idea that someone might try and fail brings us conveniently on to the topic of welfare and other forms of social care and the structures that surround them. On the whole, this was a non-problem for them. The way in which their currency worked meant that, so long as they didn’t issue so much credit that there was inflation, it was positively beneficial to the economy for them to run social programmes and infrastructural development projects.

The derwid would be nominally responsible for healthcare and education. However, they wouldn’t be able to do it alone. Special buildings would need to be constructed. Nurses, assistant teachers, and other supporting staff would be required. Raw materials would be a regular input. Associated with primary medical care, there would almost certainly need to be some provision for palliative and old age care which came with similar requirements.

There will always be a few people who simply don’t want to be a part of your society and wish to have little to do with your carefully organised institutions. They should not be unduly punished for this. Contrariwise, one of the fundamental goals of the variants’ economy was that no one should suffer from want due to misfortune in life or by birth. Nevertheless, it was not intended to be a free-for-all. A lot of work needed to be done. From everyone according to their ability would be a basic tenet. Thus, their general welfare provision would mainly consist of the creation of currency for the purposes of direct employment by the state where necessary. This would be supplemented by ad hoc debt jubilees and regular citizen dividends.

Beyond the political, economic, and judicial concerns of the state lay many diverse cultural questions that ranged from matters such as childrearing all the way to seemingly trivial matters like fashion. The variants considered all of them to be of vital importance, even those that might appear frivolous. I will deal with only the two mentioned above at this point.

At a fundamental level, the civilisation of Albion would eschew many notions concerning both the nuclear family and private property. Individuals of any gender would be at liberty to commit themselves exclusively to each other for sexual or other purposes, and there would be ceremonies associated with this process that enabled the oaths made to be recognised in official contexts. However, there would be absolutely no necessity to commit in such a manner. When it came to sex and reproduction, the free consent of all parties was assumed to be the primary imperative. Any offspring would inherit their primary identity in a matrilineal manner and, while a social and legal onus would be placed on both parents to ensure their children fulfilled their obligations, child rearing would predominantly be undertaken by the “clan” as a whole.

This collectivism fed through into property law. As a member of a clan, one would gain certain rights and protections, including matters such as having one’s basic needs for food and shelter met. One might occupy a house or a farm that could be considered “your property”, by virtue of fulfilling a particular role within a particular group, with which you were free to do as you wished. However, this did not confer the right to exchange it: it remained the property of the clan from whom it could not be alienated. The same applied to all land. Property was something one gained as a form of privilege through the fulfilment of a responsibility or obligation. This applies as much to the tribe, whose land belonged to the natural world of which they were to serve as guardians, as it did to the individual.

[dysrope]

Cracks in the Foundation

[turn 13 continued: 14]

As the centuries pass, the Golden Age of Chivik continues: immense prosperity and population growth seem like a natural state of affairs - but as the costs continue to rise for the provinces, so does discontent.

A Rival Centre of Power

The eastern provinces, with their vast open spaces, and relatively fewer dangers, conitnue to prosper and grow. But in their safe distance from any former foes, and with defensible chokeholds, they have never seen war, and many wonder why they should pay for Chivik's enormous army - which only ever seems good for quashing rebellious tribes and patrolling its own tunnels.

Especially the Tanmakmak are increasingly unsatisfied with the status quo, and it is increasingly to them that the new cities Chellat and Chitlat look for guidance and leadership, rather than the traditionally loyalist official governor in Retvik.

[found city x2: 14-6=8]

Mobilizing the Opposition

In the south, the erstwhile enemy Neskot was subjugated, conquered, plundered, occupied, and had its eponmymous ruling clan exterminated. But the Fikset clan, while loyal to Chivik, is not popular, and neither is the small remnant of the occupation force. The local warrior clans lost their weapons, status, and privileges, and were relegated to worker duties. But while it has been many generations, they have never forgotten or forgiven this slight. They have, however, left behind (most of) their dislike of the other worker clans, and increasingly strong alliances them all together. The former warriors kept up their martial traditions in secrecy, as best they could, and now also train the other clans. Together with smuggled or illegitimately manufactured weapons and armour, a total mobilization looks increasingly possible, ironically not all that different from Chivik's model. An armed uprising is quietly brewing, awaiting only a spark...

[command city (build army): 8-2=6]

An Ocean of Trouble

With the growth of Deep Chivik, there is a boom for the maritime trades. Seafood and treasures from the depths are available like never before, and a kind of submersible vessel is developed, enabling more pleasant journeys through the waters, and capable of safely carrying greater quantities of cargo with ease. But the deepest depths still hide many strange and dangerous things, and the Tiktik that live there grow increasingly alienated from the upper city they rarely even visit anymore.

But the new maritime knowhow also allows Chivik to found a colony across the seas in the upper underworld. Chital is a port city, the first of its kind in the underworld, and unlocks access to a new and fairly unexploited region.

But while the new city is not built on traditional tribal lands, the tribes nevertheless see it as an encroachment. In other places tunnels continue being walled off from them, and there is no doubt that this new city is just the latest westward expansion, not the last. But while the occasional armed resistance still invariably meets defeat, some of the tribes have found another means of improving their position.

With the growth of trade with the surface through their lands, they grow rich from caravan trade, or through providing guides and safe waypoints. The Chivikvik would dearly love to control this themselves, but they lack the knowledge of these wild and faraway tunnels. Official state policy has been to ban all sorts of unsanctioned and uncontrolled expeditions, in an effort to root out the Ayidyid, and Chivikvik traders and partols now rarely stray from long secured and safe (relatively speaking) paths.

Thus the most remote tribes have completely thrown off the yoke of Chivik, and take big cuts from any trade through their lands, and those still paying tribute watch them both with jealousy and admiration.

[command avatar (found city): 6-1=5]

[littlest-dark-age]

Damiano david headcannons

Tagging @daddydamiano @noshame-bb @mywritingonlyfans

Translations 1, my soul 2, angel 3, my love 4, my life 5, little star 6, puppy 7, bunny 8, sweetness. Please let me know if any translation is incorrect.

Damiano would always be pressing kisses into your soft skin, wherever he could reach at the moment. The two of you are cooking and you have a huge sleep shirt on that reveals your shoulders? Kiss. You're fiddling with his hands out in public due to nerves? He's kissing every finger while looking you in the eye with a grin. You'd think he's convinced its a carnal sin to not kiss you every five minutes

He would beg you to do his makeup, constantly. He loves the intimacy of it, you usually sit on his lap for it and the way you gently cup his strong jaw turns him into an absolute puddle. You lose count of how many times you have to make him look back at you because he just wants to close his eyes and sink into the warmth you radiate. But you can't be mad at him, not when he looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes, shining with love.

Damia would absolutely give you one of his rings, and if it doesn't fit your fingers, no worries. He'll just give you one of his chains to put it on. He loves to kiss it when you wear it, whether it be on the chain or your hand. It always makes his heart skip a beat, a claim to the world that he was the lucky one to capture your affections

Please play with his hair, please. He will turn into a puppy the minute your nails graze his scalp. It doesn't matter the length, he loves it. His eyes slowly shut as you scratch at the shaved sides but he'll deny that he's about to fall asleep. 

Spa nights. Just, spa nights. He will let you put the cute animal headbands on him to keep his hair out of his mask, even letting you put it on him. Dami would love to watch movies like Legally Blonde and Clueless while you paint his nails and the glittery mask on his face dries. Never wearing a shirt, saying he wants skin to skin with you as he raises your shirt up to your chest so the two of you are pressed together. He'd sit on the floor, letting you work the hair mask through his hair as the first movie goes off and he starts to hunt for another, one of his hands stroking your bare leg.

Sleepy make out sessions are his favorite, after he's had his tea and the two of you are dead tired but can't stop. Even going as far to tell you that the two of you really should go to bed, as he's sweetly kissing you. There's no rush to it, no need to hide away your love as it's just the two of you. Locked away from the rest of the world, where damiano david is just yours. Where his nose keeps bumping yours just so he can hear you laugh and have you rub your own against his, like a bunny. His hands snaking up the back of your shirt to stroke down the length of your spine with the tips of his fingers. Barely enough for you to be able to feel it. 

If you were okay with it, he would absolutely want to tattoo you. He would never pressure you to if you really didn't but he would try to convince you if you were on the fence about it. If you let him pick, good luck. It would either be something like 'i am yours', which he would get a matching one. Probably around his heart. Or it would be something for måneskin. To have something he worked so hard on, permanently on someone he loves so so much would have him ecstatic. 

The pet names. They're never ending and ever changing. He says he can't help it and that he just says what comes to mind when he sees you. Whether that's anima mia 1, angelo 2, amore mio 3, vita mia 4, stellina 5, cucciolo 6, leprotta 7, or dolcezza 8. You never know which one to expect but they all bring a smile to your face, nevertheless. 

Damiano would always ask your opinion on his stage outfits, not really for reassurance but more so to involve you in every possible thing he can. He loves your input and always takes it into consideration. And you help him remember some things, like something might make him too hot or might restrict his movements on stage. The practical things he doesn't always think about, more focused on the look and aesthetic of it. 

Pictures, pictures and more pictures. He loves taking pictures of you doing the smallest of tasks, especially for when he has to be away from you. If you hid your face, he would still adore the photo but pout a bit because he couldn't see you. Even if photos could never compare to the real thing, in his words. He just wants you to be able to love yourself the way he loves you. He doesn't care about some imperfections, they're what make up you and everybody has them. So, it's probably easier to just let him have his pictures. 

His lockscreen is a picture of you and him with the cats piled up between the two of you. You didn't even know he took it until you went to check something on his phone for him. Dami says you look so peaceful in it, pressing a kiss to the cat's head with your eyes closed, and that it always helps him calm down when he looks at it. That it reminds him of home when he's not there to hold you on the nights on the road. Although, his wallpaper is an entirely different story. A bit more...spicy, if you will. It's a picture of you laying in bed wearing black lacy lingerie with a camera in your hand, and Damiano's legs are able to be seen straddling your waist.

He might not always be able to call or facetime during a tour but believe it when he makes those calls worth it. He loves to be able to call you for hours at a time and if time zones allow it, go to sleep with you on call. If not, that's okay. He has your time zone saved in his clock so he can always be sure to send you a goodnight or good morning text, even if it's a bit late or early. Damia needs to have that little slice of normalcy to keep him from going crazy during the tour. He lives and breathes music, don't get me wrong. But you are his soul and his mind, without you, there would be no music. 

If you're out with the band, he will pull you as close as you'll allow. Even onto his lap if it's a more private place or just you and the others. But this also means you'll be poked and tickled the entire night, even if you slap his hands away. He can't keep his hands off of your ribs, no matter how sore his hands get from your smacks. He compares it to when a kitten nibbles on them.

Damiano needs to be convinced to take a break and slow down, often. He gets so swept up in it that he doesn't realize he hasn't had a proper meal in a couple of days or that he's been skimping on sleep to write lyrics and play around with harmonies. Getting him out of the studio is hard, but much needed. He will appreciate it, as well as apologize for neglecting you for the past days. A nice date or just something to get him outside is just what he needed. No matter how casual it is, being able to relax and spend some time with you is one of his favorite things to do.

Some of his favorite dates are the ones where the two of you are able to just do something and have a good time without the pressure of having to dress up and get ready. He still uses the heart shaped mug you made him on one of your dates, still listens to the record you got him when the two of you got all of your favorite albums and swapped. He still has the tickets from the first movie the two of you were able to go and see together, stuck in between the worn pages of some old book of italian poems he's had forever

His love language is a mix of acts of service and gift giving. He loves to give you little trinkets and stuff he finds while on tour, each item reminding him of you in some way or another. Even if it's just a rock he thought you might like, a pair of earrings you've mentioned before or even just something he thought you might could use. And he will give you one of his oversized blazers if the two of you are out and it's cool, even make sure you have enough to eat and offer you bites of his own food if you want. Hell, if you wanted what he ordered versus what you ordered, he would swap it even if your dish isn't his favorite thing.

Dami loves cooking with you, there's something so domestic about it that he can't help but imagine your future together. He always claims that the meals the two of you prepare together are the best thing he's ever eaten, no matter how simple it is. Just don't break the pasta in front of him, you'll send him into cardiac arrest.

He loves it when you trace and kiss his tattoos, they're something he's proud of and knowing how much you like them just makes him happy. Of course, he knows you don't have to adore every tattoo he has as long as he's happy with it, but it still makes him feel nice when you show his ink a bit of love. It always tickles him a bit when you drag your nail on the ones in his chest, sending shivers down his spine when you do. 

He is a cover hog, yet denies it with every bone in his body. He claims you push them onto him most of the time, despite the fact that you struggle to cover up completely whilst he's on the other side of the bed bundled up like a baby with almost the entire cover. Thankfully, he's warm enough that you can just curl up behind him or into his side and get all the heart that you need from him. He still denies that he hogs the covers when the entire comforter is in a pile on his side, almost like he's trying to build himself a nest

Showering together is one of his favorite things, he loves how intimate it can be. Holding you and helping you wash up without any need to be awkward and feeling comfortable in your own skin in front of each other means so much to him. Being able to be open with one another and not hide anything, even if it's insecurities about your body. He understands that the world isnt always the nicest place and that he can't undo how people's words might hurt you but he'll try his best to get you to love your body

Damiano would love to teach you italian if you didn't already and wanted to learn. He's so excited to be able to share something like this with you that he doesn't realize how hard it is to teach someone an entire language. He overestimates himself and how good of a teacher he is, but that doesn't mean he won't try his best. It just takes a little bit of time, for the both of you. He understands the struggles of learning a new language and wouldn't try to push you to learn it so soon. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day. 

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 8

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 7

Next → Part 9

Feeling a body shift beside you, you slowly began to wake from your deep, dreamless sleep. With thin rays of sunlight shining through the crack between the curtains, you let a content, sleepy smile toy at the corners of your lips as you rolled over in Keishin's arms and came face to face with his sleeping form.

It had been over a week since you had started staying with Keishin and even though waking up beside someone every morning definitely took some getting used to, you were a little surprised by just how quickly it was beginning to feel normal. Not only that, but you never slept better than you did in Keishin's bed with his warm, calming presence beside you and strong, protective arm draped over your waist.

Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, Keishin was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell rhythmically and at some point during the night, just like every other night, his hair—which wasn't tamed by the headband while he slept—had gotten all messed up and a few strands had fallen into his face.

Whenever you woke up before him, you would always take the chance to just look at him. While he slept, he seemed completely and utterly at peace—no longer burdened by the stress of coaching volleyball, working at the store, and no doubt whatever extra problems you had brought into his life. You thought back to the time you had watched him sleeping on the couch in the back room and sighed happily; the thought of how much things had changed in such a short period of time truly putting things into perspective.

Unable to keep your hands to yourself any longer, you reached out slowly and brushed the loose strands of hair out of his face and tucked them behind his ear—the same way you had done when you two had first had sex and the same way you had done countless times since.

Keishin could sleep through a thunderstorm or the sound of you calling out his name, but as soon as he felt your fingertips graze against his cheek, his eyes fluttered open. Upon noticing he was awake, you made your touch more prominent and caressed his face.

"Good morning," you whispered, unwilling to raise your voice any more than that and ruin the soft ambiance of the early morning.

Keishin leaned into your touch and smiled softly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you answered as you ran your thumb along his bottom lip, internally debating if you should ambush him with kisses now or wait until he had woken up a little more first. Chuckling to yourself over your own thoughts, you caught yourself staring at his lips and directed your gaze back to his eyes. "I'm just looking at you."

Keishin scoffed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your thumb. "Why?"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're asleep," you told him matter-of-factly. "Not that you don't always look beautiful," you added quickly before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

Keishin rolled his eyes before pulling you flush against his chest and kissing you. "You're such a sap, you know that?"

You laughed. "First, I'm dramatic. Now I'm a sap. What's next?"

"I have no idea." Keishin shrugged the best he could while lying down. "What I do know, however," he glanced at the clock, "is that we need to get up and get ready."

Following Keishin's gaze to the time, you huffed sadly when you noticed there were only five minutes left until your alarm would go off, forcing you to get ready to open the store. "Can't we just stay in bed all day?" you asked, hoping you could convince him to stay under the covers with you.

"Not unless we want to go broke and end up living under a bridge together."

You chuckled as Keishin crawled out of bed, the temptation of slapping his ass gently when he stood up almost too much but you managed to control yourself. "Together?" You grinned. "You'd stay with me even if we were both dirt poor?"

Keishin rolled his eyes playfully at your takeaway from his statement. "Of course." He collected his clothes before making his way around to your side of the bed and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But I think I like plumbing and heating too much to give them up, so let's shower and get ready."

Sitting up in bed, you cocked an eyebrow. "You want to shower together?"

Keishin flashed a devilish smirk as he headed for the bathroom. "Purely for the purpose of saving water." He disappeared into the bathroom and seconds later his boxers flew out and landed on the floor, indicating he was completely nude. "But if you hate the planet, then I guess that's on you."

Your cheeks flushed red but nevertheless, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and began removing your clothes as you approached the bathroom. "Sure," you laughed as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself and let your eyes wander over Keishin's wet, naked body as he stood under the steaming water. "If it's for the planet, how could I possibly say no?"

20 minutes of passionate kissing and soapy hands exploring every inch of each other's body later, the two of you towelled off and finished getting ready before sitting down for a quick breakfast together.

"So the volleyball team has a game today, right?" you asked Keishin as you poured milk into your bowl of cereal. Keishin nodded. "What time do you think you will be home?"

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Probably around six or seven tonight. The game is right after school so it shouldn't run too late."

"Okay." You sat down across from him at the table. "Should we get dinner after I close up the shop?"

Keishin nodded again. "Sounds like a plan."

With a few more bites of his breakfast, Keishin was setting his dishes in the sink, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, and rushing down the stairs and out of the building to start his day.

As you listened to his footsteps stomp down the stairs, followed by the sound of the back door opening and closing to indicate that he had left, you sighed to yourself and sat back in your chair. It was then that you took a minute to think about everything; your job, your boyfriend, your living arrangements, your tattered relationship with your parents. In the span of a few months, your life had completely turned upside down, but that wasn't the part that freaked you out the most.

What really got you thinking was the fact that, even though your life had done a complete 180, you had never been happier; which led to the constant internal questioning about if you had ever really been happy before you had met Keishin at all, or if this was just a different kind of happy—a happy that only a stable, supportive significant other could provide.

Before you had the chance to get lost in your thoughts, you snapped out of it, finished your breakfast, and headed downstairs to open the shop and begin your day.

As usual, you dealt with the typical morning rush of people stopping in to grab a coffee or other various food items on their way to work or school. Once the mid-morning slump hit and the customer traffic went way down, you took the time to do some routine cleaning and inventory. By now, you were like a well-oiled machine when it came to the daily task of running the store.

Around noon, as you were finishing up stocking some shelves, the front door opened and a very well-dressed man strolled into the store. "Hello," you greeted him, standing from where you were kneeling in front of the shelves and dusting off your pants.

The man gave you a once over, eyeing you from head to toe. Without so much as an acknowledging nod, he brushed past you and toward the full-length fridges at the back.

Assuming the man just wasn't in a chatty mood, you took the empty boxes to the storage room. When you exited, the man was already standing at the front counter, impatiently tapping his foot while he held two bottles of water in his hands.

"Sorry for the wait," you apologized. "Just the waters today?"

The man just nodded and let out a grunt.

Trying not to take his dismissive attitude too seriously, you rang up his purchases and gave him the total. Instead of pulling out his wallet, however, he just gave you a dirty look.

"That's a little expensive for two bottles of water, don't you think?" he retorted.

You didn't know what to say to that, so you shrugged. "I'm sorry, I don't make the prices, sir," you told him. "I just work here."

Huffing loudly, the man fished his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out some bills before tossing them haphazardly onto the counter. "Fine. Don't forget my change."

Before you could open the cash register, the front doors opened again and a woman dressed in a beautiful dress with her hair done up elegantly walked in and stopped beside the man before you. "Have you paid yet?" she asked the man, who was either her boyfriend or husband based on the way she was hanging off of his arm. "I just realized I'm out of cigarettes."

"I'm just paying now," he told her, his face softer than you had seen it yet before he turned back to you and asked for the brand of cigarettes that his partner smoked.

Spinning around, you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the empty dispenser of cigarettes, meaning that you were out of the brand he had requested. Of course, the delivery for that day hadn't come in yet, making your job even harder right now.

Plastering the warmest smile on your face that you could muster, you turned back to the couple. "I apologize, but we are all out of that brand. Can I get you something else?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "No, everything else tastes like garbage."

"I see." You stepped back up to the cash register. "So just the waters then?"

The man nodded. "I guess so if your shitty little store doesn't even stock up on popular brands of cigarettes." He watched you intently as you opened the register and counted his change. "I knew we should have stopped somewhere other than this hole in the wall."

As much as you so desperately wanted to rip this man and his spoiled girlfriend a new one, you bit your tongue instead and grinned as you handed him back his change. "Here you are." You dropped the coins into his outstretched hand. "Have a wonderful day."

Neither one of them said anything in response as they turned on their heels and marched out of the store, noses turned up at everything around them. As you watched them get into their fancy car and speed away, you wondered if they treated everyone like that or just lowly corner store workers like yourself.

Trying to let the incident slide off of you like water off of a duck's back, you returned to the remaining tasks on your to-do list and tried to forget all about being treated like a second-class citizen.

As the day turned to late afternoon and the after-school and after-work rush hit, you had found your way back into your groove again.

An hour or so before closing time, and roughly around the time Keishin would be returning, you heard a pair of heels clacking against the tile floor and stood up front behind the counter only to come face-to-face with your mother. Dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, it was obvious she had just come from work, but your attention was more focused on the envelope she was holding out to you.

"This came for you the other day." She didn't even bother with a simple greeting even though it had been weeks since you had seen or spoken to her or your father.

"Oh, okay." You reached out and took the envelope from her. Turning it over, you felt your heart jump into your throat when you read that it was from the University of Tokyo.

You looked up at your mother expectantly but she waved you off. "Don't ask me what it says, I didn't open it," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Why didn't you tell your father and me that you applied to the University of Tokyo? It's a very good school."

"Because I didn't do it for you," you said as you tucked the envelope into your back pocket. "And I certainly didn't do it to go to law school or anything you guys would approve of."

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you. "Then why did you do it?"

"To play soccer," you answered, your mind immediately going to the conversation you had had with Keishin while taking inventory together. "And because I told someone I would."

Your mother eyed you for a minute more, waiting to see if you would reach for the envelope again to open it. When you made no indication of sharing your application results with her, she hummed softly. "Well, whatever that letter says, you should take some time to seriously consider what your next step is going to be." She turned to leave but stopped halfway to the door and looked at you over her shoulder. "It's not too late to make the right choice. Think carefully before you throw your life away."

With that, your mother exited the store, leaving you with a mixed slurry of emotions and no clue how to deal with any of them.

Pulling the envelope out of your back pocket, you set it down on the counter in front of you and stared at it. Whatever was printed on the single piece of paper inside would set a course for your future . . . although you were unsure if you even still wanted the future that this piece of paper could give you.

All you wanted was to be happy, and all you knew was that Keishin gave you that.

Anything more felt like asking for too much.

Anything more felt like a gamble that wasn't worth the risk.

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 2

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 4,000+

Masterlist

————————

Sounds of horns and shouting filled the air outside as you stood on the packed bus. Cramped in from every side, it was hard for you to tell where you were going. Not as if you were paying much attention anyways.

“Okay, you left fish and pasta in the fridge… he could use the tv or read a book for entertainment while you are gone…what about…” You ramble incoherently to yourself.

Even though the storm hit Athens hard yesterday, your studio art professor was still having classes today. Forcing you to leave Triton alone at home. You shouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason to. After all, Triton is a god, he was hundreds of years old.

But…, he was still a child. No matter how old or what type of being he is. He could still possibly injure himself or get into trouble. And that single fact alone made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Is this how parents feel leaving their child alone for the first time…?” You groan to yourself, leaning your head forward so it hits the window in front of you.

“Now Approaching *Athens International School of Art*. I repeat, Now—“ The robotic voice announces over the intercom. At the familiar name of your college, you squeeze your way through the other patrons on the bus to make your way to the doors.

Sweet, sweet air, you think to yourself as soon as you exit the bus. It was starting to get way too cramped in there. So much so, you wondered if it was a safety hazard. Though it wasn’t as if you were one to talk, you left a little boy alone—

“Argh!” You scream out, slapping the cheeks of your face. You needed to stop thinking of Triton. He was going to be completely fine. But, what if…

“I’m getting too attached already…” You groan to yourself. It had only been a day. One singular Day. But you were already smitten by the blonde haired child. “It doesn’t help that he's absolutely adorable as well…”

“Who’s adorable?” A voice calls out from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Whipping around, you let out a sigh once you identify who it was.

“Bryce… how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that…”

Bryce Kroger. He was studying abroad at Athens International School of Art for a year just like you except he was instead an architecture major. You met him by coincidence while taking art history so you didn’t know much about the guy, the only thing being the few stories he told you about his home country of Australia.

“Oi! It’s not my fault you're so skittish!” Bryce banters back with a huff.

“Whatever…”

“Eh? Wait, where you heading?” Bryce questions as he watches you walk away, “I thought you had Studio Art on Fridays?”

“I do. I’m heading to the library first though.” You yell back to the tall male who stayed put where he was standing. Not even bothering to follow you.

“You need to stop studying so much!”

“Shut up!”

“IT’S THE TRUTH!”

“SHUT UP!” You scream back with one final huff before storming off. So what if you studied so much. You just wanted to get good grades in the classes that counted. It’s how you got here in the first place. By working your ass off.

Unconsciously, you feel your hand twitch as you open the library door. So what if you spent hours studying. So what if you didn’t go out with friends that often. So what if you didn’t have a social life. So what—

You feel yourself pause, your expression turning sour. Lonely. That’s what you were. You were lonely. A miserable lonely girl.

“Miss!”

Startled out of your thoughts by the sudden call, you realize you were no longer standing at the front door but instead standing in front of one of the librarians. You must have unconsciously walked up to the front desk while you were lost in thought.

“A-Ah. Sorry, I was just looking for books on Leonar—“

You feel your voice trail off at the end as a book on the counter catches your eye. It wasn’t the gold detailing nor the leather texture. No. It was the simple words of “Greek Mythology: Tales of Zeus” printed neatly on the front.

“…Actually, Do you perhaps have any books about Poseidon?”

You just found something better to do with your time.

—.—.—.—.—

“Damn… this is extremely confusing…” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the pages of notes in front of you. Each book seemed to be a little bit different from the last. “Perhaps I should recap…”

Okay, so what makes sense to you is that Poseidon is the second eldest of three brothers and is the ruler of the seas. The things that don’t make sense are… practically everything else…

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream out of frustration right now.

According to the books, Poseidon has had many consorts over the years. One of them being Triton’s mother, Amphitrite…

“My mother… can be quite mean to other women. Even to some of the female servants around the palace. She believes that they are trying to seduce my father…”

…but that doesn’t match up with what Triton mentioned last night. According to him, it sounds like Amphitrite scared away any women that would even come near Poseidon. This also leads to another flaw in the mythology books. You doubted that Poseidon would be able to have an affair with any other women with Amphitrite antics, nevertheless have 10 other children with them.

“Triton also never mentioned having any other siblings…”

Letting out a groan, which you seemed to be doing a lot today, you banged your head against the table. It seems like these mythology books weren’t going to be of any help after all. Though…. you couldn’t help but wonder why the books were so off in the first place.

Lifting yourself back up from the table, you glare down at one of the book covers. It was blue, almost silvery in a way, with a giant black silhouette of Poseidon right smack dab in the middle. Or, at least, what Poseidon might look like…

“Well, my father is extremely strong and handsome. All the sea nymphs stare at him with big heart eyes half the time. Oh! B-but, father doesn’t pay any attention to them. Father is not a cheater like uncle Zeus…”

“…Is Father…? Oh. He’s alright… He’s nowhere as bad as my mother. He’s never hit me or anything. He’s just… cold. Extremely cold. He really just ignores me half the time…”

“…I do love my father…I just wished he would at least spare me a glance…you know?…Acknowledge his own son…”

“God damn jerk!” You hiss out in anger as you push the book aside. Your blood practically boiling at even the slightest thought of Triton’s father, Poseidon. He doesn’t deserve to have such a good and nice son like Triton.

However, as much as you want to curse out Poseidon more, you realized class would be starting soon and you really had to get a move on.

“Shit. I can’t afford to be late again.”

—.—.—

“Ugh. Why did the professor have to assign me this type of painter…?!” You whined to Yuri. Class had already ended by then with the professor long gone. The only people left were students that were conversing with others or trying to get a head start on their paintings.

“Well, it didn’t help that you barged into class late for the second time this week, (y/n).” Yuri explained with a sigh as she continued to set up her palette, not even sparing you a glance.

Yuri Saito, Or rather Saito Yuri, was an abroad student from Japan. She was the closest person you knew at the college as you both were similar in many ways. Especially since you were both homebodies.

“I get that but at least I showed up in the fir—“

“(Y/n)!” A voice shouts out interrupting your talk with Yuri. You turn around to see Bella Woods, a student apart of your major, approaching you. “(Y/n). You were part of your student council back in high school right?”

“Uh, Yeah. Why?” You answered hesitantly. You weren’t sure why, perhaps instincts, but you were already having a bad feeling about this situation.

“Well I need your help on something…” Bella explains, her voice trailing off at the end as she grabs something from her bag. It’s a piece of paper, a flier to be exact.

“A…A Cultural Festival?”

Bella nods her head at your words, “Yeah. The college wanted to put something on for the public to show what our art school is all about and Mrs. Yamamoto suggested this. A-Apparently, it’s something schools and colleges do back in Japan.”

“B-But how can I help? Wouldn’t it make sense for someone like Yuri to do this? Since she’s from Japan and all.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know a single thing about japanese culture festivals.

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m busy.” Yuri counterbacks with a glare before returning back to her painting.

“Well… you see… The school wanted to change Mrs. Yamamoto’s idea a bit since they really didn’t know anything about Japanese Cultural festivals either. So it’s like a Cultural festival, kind of not.” Bella rambled. You could tell all this information was scrambling her brain as well. “Basically, it’s like a Greek version of a Cultural festival where each major picks a Greek god and plans an event or booth around it.”

“…Okay… So it’s just like a school festival in a way?” You questioned cautiously. This was a lot for you to take in at once.

“Yes. Precisely. We are just taking inspiration from Cultural festivals.”

“Okay. Okay…” You answer as you rub the back of your neck, “I still don’t understand why you need me though?”

“Well, I kind of… kind of saw you reading the mythology books in the library today and we need more people on the planning committee…” Oh, god. It seems like everything is coming back to bite you in the ass, “…Just. Please (y/n), We need your help!”

You let out a small sigh as you watch Bella give you a pleading look, “Fine…”

“Yay—!“

“But…�� You start cutting off Bella’s cheers, “But I’m taking care of something really important right now at home so I can’t always make meetings and things like that. I can help with planning but that’s it. Okay?”

That was correct. As much as you wanted to help Bella and your department out with this festival, Triton was your top priority right now. His care and needs were above all else right now, even your own. So if this would get in the way of that then you would drop this project instantly. Instantly.

“Of course! Oh, thank you (y/n)!” Bella cheers, her body visibly relaxing now that a stress has been taken off your shoulder, “Well, I’m not sure if you're busy right now but… the committee is currently planning two classrooms down… so if you could…”

“I’ll go…” You sighed out. Damn, what’s with you lately. Less than two days ago, people hardly approached you. Now you are as busy as a bee. A person magnetic… Well, more like god magnetic as wel—

Wait, a minute. You feel yourself tense up as a thought flies into your brain. If Gods could travel and spend time on earth, could they live here as well? Just like how Triton wants to?

Shit. What if some that live here are able to identify Triton? You could be in big troub—

“(Y/n)? Are you coming?” Bella calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Y-yes.”

It seemed you would have to worry about that later. Not that it mattered right now, you could always just ask Triton when you got home. And even if he didn’t know the answer you would just have to be careful bringing him out of the house. Yeah… you would just do that.

“Guys, I would like to introduce you to (y/n). She’s a fine arts major just like us and knows about mythology. I think she would make a great addition to our group.” Bella introduces you as you enter the room. As you looked around the group of only 4 other people, you realized you really didn’t know anyone.

That is until everyone started to introduce themselves. You never heard of the first three—Brian, James and Kyle—but you found the last name, Marissa Samudra, quite familiar. You wonder if she was that Marissa.

Who you were talking about was Marissa, the hottest girl in school Marissa. Well, at least that’s what all the boys in your major told you. The girl in front of you at least seemed to fit the part. With white silk like skin, light green eyes and dyed coral pink hair, she truly was a sight to see.

“Okay. So shall we get started.” James suddenly spoke up, seeming to want to get the meeting started. You nodded your head in agreement before taking a seat next to Holly. As well as across from Marissa. “Well, I think we should first decide which god we should do. Culinary, Music, Visual performing arts and architecture already have chosen Aphrodite, Hades, Ares and Zeus. (Y/n)…”

You lift your head up at the call of your name.

“…as you know the most about Mythology, who do you think we should pick?”

“Well,…” You feel yourself pause, your palms growing sweaty out of nervousness. You really didn’t know that much about Greek Gods, only the class you took last year and the books you skimmed this morning. You also didn’t expect so many of the main gods to be taken already.

“…How about…”

You needed to think of someone fast. Someone that would satisfy all parties here. Someone that would bedazzle people coming to the festival.

“…Poseidon…?”

Why… Why was that what your brain had come up with? Poseidon? The very god that you were cursing out this morning. Wishing near death upon.

“Fish man?” Brian questioned, letting out a small chuckle at his own joke, “You really want to go with Fish man as our god? Isn’t there anyone better?”

“I think Poseidon is pretty…cool.” You feel a shiver go up your spine as you compliment the man. It was official, you might actually puke. “…He’s the king of the seas. It gives us a lot to work with for his character. Especially since most Fine Arts students are good at realistic elements, we could really do well on painting or using sea life.”

“True… but—“

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

You are shocked as you hear Marissa cut Brian off. When you first sat down, she seemed totally uninterested in the topic at hand. Caring more about her hair and nails than anything else. But now, now, she was paying attention to every little thing. You couldn’t help but wonder why. “Oh sorry. I really like the sea. It holds a special place in my heart… you know?”

Oh, that makes sense. You totally forgot Marissa’s paintings were mostly about the ocean and sea. Never drifting off to other topics.

“N-no. That’s actually pretty cool. You know what, we should totally do Posedin… or whatever the dude’s name is. He sounds really cool.” Bryan agrees as he bashfully rubs the back of his neck. Gross, could he make it any less obvious that he was smitten by her. And not in a nice way either.

You feel yourself shiver as you watch him sneak small glances down at Marissa’s chest area. Disgusting pervert…

“Well, with that decided let’s move on…”

…Great… You could already tell this was going to be a long meeting…

—.—.—.—.—

Again, for what felt like the hundredth time today, you banged your head against the wall. This time however it was against the door of your apartment.

“Seriously… a Café…?”

Yes, a Café. That’s the brilliant idea your group came up with. An under the sea type themed café.

In hindsight it didn’t sound all that bad. You could have a couple of students paint some props and decorations. Then another couple of students who know how to cook plan out the menu. Maybe even borrow some culinary students if you were lucky.

But,… there’s that.

Outnumbered three to two, the boys of your group insisted the girls that are serving customers should wear togas. Togas. They stated it was to bring in more customers but it was pretty obvious they had other intentions behind it. Especially since they didn’t even bother waiting a couple of minutes afterwards to ask if Marissa wanted to be part of the waiting staff.

“Poor girl… I feel bad for her.” You mumble to yourself as you pull out your keys, finally unlocking the door to your apartment. You wished you could just beat all those men senseless with a baseball bat. “That’s actually not a bad idea… Could I bring a wooden club and say that it's part of the character? They seem to not know that much about—“

“Miss (y/n)!” You hear shouted as something comes barreling into you. Knocking you onto the ground right as you enter your apartment. “O-oops I meant to only say (y/n)…”

Even though you got the air literally knocked out of you, you still let out a small chuckle as you reached up to run a hand through the perpetrator’s locks. Triton’s blonde locks. “It’s okay. I only told you this morning to stop referring to me so formally. It will take time for you to get used to it.”

Suddenly, you wince at a feeling of pain as you move slightly. Triton sure was strong. You, honestly, wondered if he held back some strength when he jumped at you. If so, you wondered how strong Triton was nonetheless an adult god.

Speaking of an adult god…

“Hey Triton.” The boy lifts his head up at your call, “Do any gods live on earth?”

The boy seemed to take a moment to think, “Well kind of? Not really Greek Gods though. Most of them are too proud to live with humans.”

“Oh well that’s goo— Wait, a minute! Other gods are real as well!?”

Triton nods his head furiously, “Yeah pretty much all gods. As long as it is considered as one, it exists. There’s Nordic gods…, Indian gods…, Oh! Even Buddha. I like Buddha, even though I’ve only met him once. He introduced me to salt water taffy! It’s delicious.”

“I-I see…I’ll try to get you some then. Another time.” As much as you wanted to hide your surprise you couldn’t. Learning that Greek Gods actually existed was one situation but learning that All Gods existed was a whole nother ball game. Did that mean demons existed as well?

“Hey (y/n). Could I ask you a question?” Triton asks, suddenly seeming bashful all of a sudden.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could I…” Triton pauses for a moment, “Could I call you…”

You leaned closer to Triton as his voice slowly got softer and softer at the end. His ears and cheeks were bright red as he waited for you to answer. However, you couldn’t answer him as you didn’t hear the last part of what he said.

“I apologize. Could you repeat what you said, Triton? I couldn’t hear the end of it.” You felt bad for asking him to repeat it as his face only seemed to get even more red when you asked.

“I-I… Could I call you… Mom?”

It was silent as his question, or rather request, fell upon your ears. You thought about it for a moment. Especially whether it was morally right for you to have him call you ‘mom’. Even if his true mother was a terrible person, she was still his mother.

Though, then again, She really didn’t act like his mother. Especially in all her hundreds of years of existence of having him. At least from what you’ve heard from Triton. She’s had plenty of chances to show her love for him and she never did.

“Of…Of course you can.”

You feel yourself smile as Triton’s face lit up. And you knew, Deep down inside, that you did the right thing. You would show this boy the love he deserved.

“Hey (Y— Mom.” You giggle at how Triton seemed to practically beam with happiness once the title left his lips.

“Yes, Triton?”

“Could we have dinner right now?”

You feel yourself jump up a little in surprise. Since you stayed later than what you usually would, due to the meeting, you didn’t have anything prepared ahead of time for dinner.

“Ah, yes. Do you think you could wait in the living room while I prepare it?”

“Of course!” Triton answers as he scrambles up off of you. As you make your way to the kitchen—which was technically in the same room as the living room—to start dinner, you find yourself drifting off into your thoughts.

You realized you really hadn’t thought this through. Taking care of Triton and all. Your apartment was small, he didn’t have his own room, he seemed to eat a lot more than a human boy his physical age and so much more.

You wouldn’t be able to buy a bigger apartment right now. Going through college and all. But you could take more shifts at work. After all, it was literally down the street. You were also good friends with the owner of the toy shop next door. You bet he would allow Triton to play with a couple of toys while you worked.

As you continue to list things you would need to take care of Triton especially if it was long term, Triton was watching cartoons on the couch.

“…Wonder cats will be right back!…”

As the show goes to commercial break, Triton feels himself let out a sigh. Television sure was awesome and all, much better than the plays and coliseum matches used to entertain gods, but he despised ads more than anything.

“Who in the world created such a malicious thing…”

Triton’s voice trails off at the end as the ad changes to another. As he stares at the screen, he feels a shiver shoot down his spine. As quickly as he could, Triton changes the channel to another before shakily dropping the television remote. A cold sheen of sweat breaks out all over his skin as he collapses back onto the couch.

To anyone else, the commercial before looked like any normal hair dye commercial seen on Tv. But not to Triton. Especially when he saw something oh so familiar.

“T-that hair color…” Triton feels himself shiver at the thought, “L-looked too much like Aunties. Mom’s…No…

…Amphitrite’s Sister.”

Author Note: Ahhh this chapter contained so much but I knew I couldn’t split it up. Especially if I was doing posting Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was worried that the time frame in between would mess my readers up. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I know there wasn’t a lot of Triton moments but I wanted to get the ball rolling on the plot so that things and certain characters (*cough* Poseidon *cough*) will appear soon. Well that’s it for now, see you next time :)))

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[astranva]

Reason To Hate You.

// masterlist //

Word Count: 5k

Category: Angst

Warning: Some strong language, as usual. Just angsty. It’s good for the skin and some soul cleansing.

Summary: He loves her, but has no time to show it even when she asks him to. But she’s had enough, and Harry writes a song.

Based on Reason To Hate You by Rhys Lewis.

..

You were sure when Harry sang “comfortable silence is overrated” he wasn’t joking, because maybe your boyfriend appreciated the uncomfortable silence more, or at least he had been showing so.

Familiarity was out of the window when it came to the both of you, because that would be an understatement. Your friends and families had joked about it for the one year and 7 months of your relationship, about how you were one soul in two bodies, how alike you and Harry were and how the differences completed one another.

You knew when he was stressed, sad, nervous, even when he was a combination of every emotion there is and it had always assured you that he, too, knew you like the back of his hand.

One look at you and he’d offer the best support; let it be a shoulder to cry on, a celebratory dance, or a shared cup of blueberry yogurt.

But quietness had barged in like an univited guest, one you weren’t ready for and the more you thought about it, you would have never been ready for it.

Empty was one word to describe it; the bed, the kitchen, the living room, the balcony, the house, the trips to the grocery’s – the relationship.

It began around the time of Fine Line’s release. Biting back your tongue, you had managed to not feel small whenever you listened to all the tracks on there that Harry had on his ex, especially the one that had his ex talking at the end of.

But Harry had showered you with love and assurance, telling you that he couldn’t believe he had ever lived without you by his side and how he had never felt this sort of love with anyone.

You, too, had showered him with affection and the undivided pride you felt for him, making sure all your friends and family purchased the album, playing it at all times, working online so you could accompany him to some of his press because he needed you there with him.

“Mom’s birthday is coming up. I think we should get her that dress she talked about last time, remember it?” You had asked one night as you lied in bed, eyes on your boyfriend as he moisturized his face while standing in nothing but his boxers.

Harry glanced at you before looking back at the mirror one final time before walking to the bed, “I don’t, no.”

“The Marc Jacobs o-“

“When is it?” He rushed, getting under the cover, turning away from you before turning his head back to look at you.

Your lips parted before closing again, before you replied. “Friday.”

“This Friday?” And at your nod, Harry pursed his lips, “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t make it. Have a meeting all day to talk about tour.”

“But H, you knew about this for two weeks.”

“I did?” Sheepishly, Harry asked.

You slumped before shaking your head, “It’s alright. I’ll just tell her you had an emergency or something.”

“You do that.” He nodded, reaching behind him to give your thigh a squeeze, “Get whatever gift you want, pay with my card.”

You didn’t reply, watching as he let his head down on his pillow, back to you as he got comfortable, the only light in the room coming from the lamp on your bedside table.

On the day of your mother’s birthday, you remember the halfhearted smile you offered to her when she asked you where Harry was,

“Says he’s really sorry. Family emergency, but this is from the both of us.” And then you had given her the neatly wrapped present, a card attached to it with a birthday message from you and Harry, only that it was only you who had written it because Harry was up and out of the house the minute you opened your eyes that morning.

And then it happened, again, and again, and again,

and some more.

“Good morning,” you had smiled at him one morning, watching as he rubbed his face before he approached you, capturing your lips in a kiss that had the butterflies in your stomach cheer and dance, “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, love. What about you?” He smiled tiredly, hands on your waist and chin on your shoulder from behind as he watched you flip the cheddar cheese and omelet toast on the pan.

“Great.” You smiled when you felt him rub your skin from over your nightgown with his fingers. You turned off the stove before turning, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning to peck his lips, “Hey, I know we always get Chinese takeout for our Sunday night date but how do you feel about Thai?”

And instantly, Harry tensed, guilt already taking place on his face and the smile on your face faltered at the change of demeanor, “Y/N, I’m sorry, lovie, I can’t make it tonight.”

“What? Why? We never skip on our Sunday night indoor date.”

It was a ritual you and Harry were devoted to since the very beginning of your relationship, and not once had neither of you flaked on it, always having plans around it but never during it because it was when the both of you would kick your heels up, pig out, watch a movie, talk, and just get ready for the start of another week.

“Told you I’m going to Miami for a few days to meet with the director for Watermelon Sugar, baby.”

“You’re travelling?” You frowned, “You never told me.”

Harry paused, eyes going slightly big before he looked away for a moment before looking back at you, “I’m sorry. It must have slipped out of my mind with how hectic everything has been.”

You didn’t reply, suddenly feeling a tad uncomfortable with your position which had you remove your arms from around him and turn, holding the pan and moving out of his grasp to put the toast on his plate.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It’s just my job and I can’t reschedule.”

You sighed, feeling as if your heart strings were being tugged at. Nevertheless, you managed to give him a small smile. “It’s alright, H. I understand. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

To be honest, if anyone had a say in this, they’d say Harry took advantage of how accepting you were, but you would never. You would never say – nor admit – that he was taking advantage of all your “I understand”s and “I get it”s, because you knew he was busy. You knew he loved you. You knew it, until you weren’t so sure anymore.

Standing in the corner of Adam and Emi’s living room, you sipped on your Sprite as you watched people from Harry’s band and those behind the album mingle, your boyfriend standing out of earshot but in front of you, conversing with Tom – Kid Harpoon – and Naomi, his hands moving around as he talked which made you smile a little.

“Why are you standing here all lonely?” You felt a nudge to your shoulder before you looked beside you, seeing Sarah leaning on the wall beside you.

You shrugged, “Just watching.”

“You never texted me yesterday after your date. How did Harry react to your dress? Did you end up wearing the white sh-“

“We didn’t go.”

“-oes? Or- Wait, what?” Sarah frowned.

“We didn’t go on the date.” You repeated, avoiding her eyes by looking down at the small soda bubbles in your cup.

“Oh,” Sarah’s shoulders slumped, taking notice of your gloomy mood, “Oh, um,” she cautiously looked at you, “You were dressed.” She mumbled with a frown, genuinely sad for her friend.

You chuckled, putting your weight on one leg, “So was he, but we had different intentions, I guess. He had a meeting with Jeff.”

“Y/N…” Sarah, with a frown, offered a hand of support on your shoulder.

With a small, very fake smile, you looked at her and shook your head, “It’s alright, really. He’s been busy with tour and the press and all that.”

“Doesn’t make him less of an arse, you know?” She raised an eyebrow.

You only chuckled, looking down at your shoes, “Don’t worry about it. Hey, at least I got to watch that show you’ve been bugging me with.”

You were patient; something many of the people you knew in your life always praised, some even were in disbelief at how patient you were with the shit life threw at you. Like that one time your laptop lagged in the midst of your presentation at uni and instead of freaking out, you remained calm, collected and patient, and it was why you ended up acing that presentation.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like crap, because you did.

Since communication was key, you had decided to do just that – communicate. Harry was better than you when it came to confrontation. For a long time, you had trouble with approaching anyone and telling them that things weren’t fine, but as yours and Harry’s relationship blossomed, you learned to.

It was why you had decided against going to bed early one night and opted to stay and wait for Harry’s return, knowing that it was the only time you would be able to see him with how tight his schedule had been.

In a crewneck of his and plaid pj pants, you sat on the couch with a cup of green tea in your hands, watching a talk show that you mentally criticized as shit in your mind before you heard the click of the door.

Taking a breath to steady your heartbeat and breath, you put aside your tea before you clutched your hands together, cracking your knuckles nervously as you heard the sound of Harry’s home sliders against the floor.

His face showed confusion at the light being turned on, knowing that by that time, you usually slept, but he saw you sitting there, too in your head as you looked at your fidgeting hands to notice that he was a few steps away.

“You’re still up.” He stated in surprise, watching your head snap to look at him.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, “Was waiting for you.”

Unknowing why, Harry smiled to himself as he approached you, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Can we talk?”

And then his smile slightly faltered, eyebrows furrowing in slight worry before he sat. “Are you alright?” His hand reached up to brush your hair.

You hated how loving he was that moment, how he made you feel. How he showed you care when he was there for a few minutes, but you hated how he had trouble showing you that by making time for you.

“Harry,” you began and he immediately felt like shit because you rarely use his name, “Are you ever not going to be busy?”

“What?”

You felt stupid, not knowing how to articulate how you’re feeling but gave it another go anyway. “It’s just that, you’re never here anymore. It’s always the album, meetings, press, and when it’s none of those, then you’re out with your friends-“

“Is this about me cancelling that date?”

And you knew he was starting to get defensive and you made note that you hated that, too.

“Which one?” You asked tiredly before sighing, turning fully to look at him, “I’m not asking you to choose between me and your job, your life, but I’m just asking you to make time for me. I just feel out of place, Harry, and it sucks.”

“You know this album is important to me, everything about it.”

“And I absolutely love all that for you, I’m so proud of you,” you held his hands, “I just miss you, that’s all.”

“But Y/N, that’s-“ Harry let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, “That’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to cancel on our quality time more than twice to be with your friends, all of whom you see everyday.”

“I see you everyday.”

“Seeing me when I’m sleeping or kissing me goodbye is hardly anything, Harry.” You said gently.

He contemplated it, staying silent for a few moments as he looked down at your joined hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just, make time for me, for us – please?”

You had kissed then, almost like a promise, and for the first time in a long time, you cuddled.

You wished you received enough assurance that he was trying, wished to see it, but it seemed like too big of a wish to come true.

You had a career of your own, one you were proud of and worked hard for, so when one day your boss asked you to their office to break the news of your promotion, your smile might as well have resembled a painted one like the Joker’s, from ear to ear.

Your colleagues had cheered for you, even interns approaching you to tell you that you deserved it, and they had all decided that a celebration was due. While they were planning for the celebration, deciding that it would take place at a nearby pub the following day as it Saturday and Friday was a good day to recover from hangovers, you took out your phone, composing a text to Harry.

‘H, please be home early tonight. Big news! 🥳 Love you!’

“You sure you don’t want to join for a quick drink? You earned it.” Your colleague Mariah asked as she walked you to your car.

“I’m sure. You go have fun and we’ll meet tomorrow.”

“Hey, tell your boyfriend to tag along!” She said as she waved before leaving.

That day, you went back home, showered and changed before cooking a nice meal for yourself and Harry.

You had checked your phone multiple times, checking if you might have missed a response or missed a call but granted, your phone only notified you of few congratulatory messages from people in your workplace and your family’s Whatsapp group after you had shared with them the news, none from the one person you longed for.

When the clock struck 8 that night, you found yourself grabbing your phone, tapping on it until you were calling his phone. One missed call, you called again and that time, he answered.

“Baby, I’m in the middle of something.” Harry rushed.

“What is it?” You found yourself asking.

“Mate! You fucking cheated!” You heard him laugh, sounds of different people in the background, “Don’t wait up, yeah? I have to go now. Love y-Wait, I’m coming!” And with one final laughter from him – a sound you had always loved and cherished but that moment, it only made you feel like crying – he hung up.

You stared at your phone, eyes stinging and nears getting itchy, swallowing the lump in your throat before you angrily tossed the phone onto the couch before walking to the kitchen to eat your share of the food. No way in hell were you going to sleep sad, angry, and on an empty stomach.

You hated how small you felt, how you felt unwanted in his world. It wasn’t like you wanted much either, just some time.

It was why the following morning as you got ready for your day at work, you might have loudly closed a drawer or two before looking over at Harry’s sleeping figure.

Huffing as you looked into the mirror while adjusting your top, you were unaware to Harry stretching and rubbing his eyes before you heard him.

“Good morning, love.”

Your heart raced, turning instantly to look at him. You tried to smile but when that failed, you turned back to give yourself a final look before grabbing your bag, mumbling a halfhearted “good morning.”

“Leaving early?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I want to grab donuts before I go.”

Harry smiled sleepily, “You usually get them donuts when there is good news.”

“I got promoted.” You said, still avoiding looking at him as you walked towards the door, lingering by it before you finally looked at him, finding him looking at you with a grin.

“Really? Baby, that’s wonderful! Congratulations, Honey. You deserve this. C’mere.” And he opened his arms, making grabby hands at you.

That moment, you also hated how you couldn’t fight the urge to go to him because that was exactly what you did. You walked towards him, sitting beside him and letting him embrace you, peppering kisses on your head.

“I’m proud of you.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him as you closed your eyes. “You are?”

“Of course. Always am.”

You smiled, nuzzling your head into his neck.

Harry wasn’t dumb – he felt it. You missed him, and he, too, missed you. He just couldn’t seem to say no to all the plans that he was invited to – except yours.

“They’re celebrating me tonight. Do you want to come?” You said, and although it was a little muffled, he heard it.

“Tonight’s Steve’s birthday. Remember hi-“

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes, pulling away from his embrace, shaking your head at yourself before letting out a chuckle, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Why? What did I- Y/N, you know I can’t miss it. Steve has helped a lot with the album, it wouldn’t be right.”

“He helped with-“ You laughed bitterly, “Right, and I have never helped you with anything. Nothing at all.”

“Don’t take it like that, Y/N.” Harry huffed.

“I’m not taking it like anything, Harry. It doesn’t matter. Don’t wait up. Oh wait,” you stood, giving him a sarcastic smile, “You never do.”

And with that, you were out.

Any other time, you probably would have felt guilty. You would have felt like running back into his arms the moment he opened them. Only, he hadn’t called you, nor had he opened his arms.

There you were, sitting on a stool at the bar as your friends danced and drank, sulking with an untouched cocktail glass, staring at the door every time someone walked in.

But 7 became 8, 8 became 9, and before you knew it, you had driven one of your very drunk colleagues home at 12 and you were back home at 12:30, too sober for your own liking. That was a pathetic celebration, you thought.

You weren’t sure why but the moment you stepped foot inside your shared home with Harry – it was initially his but by the 12th month of your relationship, he had asked you to move in – you couldn’t stop the tears.

Ugly sobs broke the silence in the house, your body shaking with the extra weight of emotions it carried for months.

Maybe it was because even then, Harry wasn’t home and surely, he wasn’t beside you as your friends celebrated a big event in your life. Maybe it was because you received a notification that Harry had posted to his close friends story list on Instagram, the story being him holding his phone with the front camera, Harry singing along to a Queen song with Alexa Chung as she had one arm around his shoulders, her other hand holding a cup that resembled the miserable cocktail you had earlier to celebrate yourself.

But you were packing a suitcase.

You were neatly folding some of your clothes in it, putting some of your undergarments in the zipped-up area. You hadn’t bothered to quit crying, you figured that you owed that yourself.

One thing Harry didn’t expect to return to was to see you out, closing your car’s trunk as you stood in your black sweatpants and a grey hoodie, comfortable sneakers on your feet and your hair left with no hairbands or as much as a clip as if you hadn’t bothered to do anything with it.

Quickly parking and turning off his car, his eyes had glanced at the time quickly, finding it reading 2:21AM. Harry was quick to get out, noticing your movement to your driver side halt as you heard so.

“Where are you going?” He asked as he approached you, feeling worried and scared as he stared at the back of your head as you were yet to turn.

But you did, and Harry found himself staring your puffy eyes, tears in clouding the color he loved too much and his heart broke.

“I’m leaving.”

If it was possible, his heart would have beat its way out of his chest.

“L-Leaving wh-where? What?”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, “I’m leaving, Harry. I’m done.”

“Y/N, baby,” he cooed, stepping closer, “Let’s talk, alright?” He gently put his hands on your arms, only to have you shrug them off, breaking his heart even more and causing a lump to form in his throat.

“No! We’re not going to talk, Harry. I’m done talking. I’m done waiting. I’m done being alone in this fucking house – in this- this fucking relationship!” You cried.

“Baby, please,” his jaw clenched as he tried to control his breathing and to push back the tears, “Y/N, please. Don’t do this.”

You shook your head, “I gave you everything. I tried everything and it’s just not working. I’m done giving, Harry. Please, just understand.” You stepped closer to him, cupping his face, “You’re never here for me anymore and I’m done holding on to the ghost of you.”

“What can I do? Anything, please,” his nose reddened, eyes going tearful as he was just about to melt in your hands, watching you shake your head, “Please, lovie, anything.”

“I’m done.” You whispered in the midst of a sob, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I tried.”

And with that, you got into the car before speeding off, leaving Harry standing there, his heart seeming to wave him off as he watched your car disappear.

//

He was shit.

He had tried to contact you, even tried to visit you at your work only to get told that you were taking a few days off.

He messaged you everyday for 3 weeks, called and left voice notes.

His friends felt bad for him when they knew, but they felt worse when he broke down one day when his band visited to check up on him,

“If only I wasn’t part of all of this! If you didn’t drag me into all of this shit, she would have still been here! Right here in her fucking home with me!”

“Hey! You got no one to blame but yourself. You’re the one who decided to blow her off every time, even when Mitch and I asked you about her and gave you an earful so don’t fucking put the blame on anyone but yourself, Harry!” Sarah had knocked some sense into him, “I love you and all, but this is all you and whatever will happen next will be you. Don’t wait for anyone to pick up your mess because it’s about time you act and show her you love her.”

He deserved that.

Harry had tried countless of times, visited your old apartment only to face an old man holding a puppy who had no idea who you were.

He found himself sitting in his studio one night – where he slept because he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in your bedroom – his journal perched up as his pen worked on it. It was like he didn’t need to think about it, he went on auto-pilot and before he could realize it, he had written a song.

You weren’t any better. 2 months later and you were still avoiding his calls. It didn’t help that you got another phone and number but kept your old one, only to know that he still remembered you and you felt pathetic for it.

His fans were bombarding you with questions on yours and his whereabouts, saying that you’ve been inactive for way too long and it wasn’t like you to not interact with them, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

By the 3rd month, you began to go other places than your workplace.

You met up with 2 of your friends, giving them short answers and “yeah”s as they talked. With your mind being somewhere else, you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram, checking your explore page.

And there it finally was; a picture of him. His beard and moustache had grown, untrimmed and messy as his hair. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, yellow sweatpants and a grey hoodie worn along with his running shoes while he walked.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you opened the photo, checking the caption to read it;

‘Harry out a few minutes ago!’

As fresh as your favorite home baked pastries this photo was. Your eyes moved from him to the shop behind him, zooming with your fingers before letting out a gasp.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” One of your friends asked.

“I have to go.” You quickly said, slinging on your bag before you shot out of your seat and outside, frantically looking left and right before walking towards the shop you had seen in the picture.

You didn’t even know what you were doing. Hell, you shouldn’t have been doing that, looking for him like that.

You panted, reaching up to place a hand on your rapidly beating heart as you stood in front of the shop.

God, you felt stupid.

“Y/N…”

You heard it, then you felt it; his hand, gentle on your shoulder.

You turned, coming face to face with the man you had sworn up and down was the love of your life – and you knew he still was.

He snatched off his sunglasses, as if they played a trick on him but they weren’t because you stood right there.

“You’re here.” He breathed out.

Harry’s green eyes were staring into yours, hand still on your shoulder.

At the feeling that rushed through you; one that made you feel that one more minute and you would be in his arms, kissing him and going back home with him, you slowly shook your head. “I have to leave.”

“No, please, please, a minute. Just a minute.” Harry pleaded with wide eyes, desperation in his voice.

“If I stay for one more minute, I won’t control myself. Please let me go.” You closed your eyes as you spoke softly.

“I can’t.”

“You can. You did it more than once.”

One final jab to his heart, you turned, rushing to cross the street before getting in your car.

//

The news of a sudden single drop was everywhere.

Friends and family texted you to ask if you had heard the song, most asking you to “please talk it out with Harry, he seems really sorry.”

Your coffee, sat waiting for you as you read the wave of tweets that crashed on you from fans, most of asking you what your friends and family asked of you, some others apologizing on his behalf, some others questions if the song was about you to begin with, and some others giving you shit for “breaking Harry’s heart.”

You were quick to click on a YouTube link that was attached to a tweet of a fan reacting to the song, sitting up straight and suddenly feeling nauseous as the screen changed.

Harry Styles – Reasons To Hate You.

Your stomach dropped as you saw him. In a white tee and black shorts, his hair was held back with your light blue clip while he sat in a chair behind his mic in the comfort of your home studio, holding the black guitar you had gifted him for his 26th birthday.

“Can you just lie to me

And ruin these memories

'Cause I've gotta forget somehow

So I'm begging you, burn us to the ground,” Harry sang as he played the guitar.

“Cause I know it's over

But I don't know what to do

So help me get over

Help me get over you,”

With no intentions to stop the tears, you let yourself cry, reaching up to stifle a sob by putting a hand to your mouth.

“And tell me you love somebody else or something

Or say you've been unfaithful to me

'Cause I need a reason to hate you, a reason to let you go

A reason to move on 'cause without one I know I won't

So tell me you love somebody else or something

Or say you've been unfaithful to me.”

He had looked up to his camera, and as he did, you felt like he was physically there and singing for you.

“Where do we go from here?

Do you just disappear?

'Cause I don't think I can be your friend

When it feels like the break isn't gonna mend.”

You stopped questioning your moves, and as proof, you had no idea what you were thinking when you grabbed your car keys and bolted out of the studio apartment you had rented, the song still playing.

“'Cause even after all this time, I'm hoping I can change your mind

'Cause hope's the only open door left to choose

So let me out for good because I know that I'm not strong enough

To stop myself from feeling things for you

So don't give me the truth.”

And you drove to him, right back to your home.

The song had replayed itself 4 times before you were finally out of your car and rushing to the door, ringing the bell and knocking, cursing yourself for forgetting your keys back at that apartment.

The door opened and there he stood, in the same clothes with the same clip holding back his hair.

Harry didn’t have time to comprehend before you threw yourself at him, crying into his chest.

“You’re such an asshole.” You cried, “How can you release something like that, you shit?”

He held on to you, hiding his face in your hair as he took you in.

“Next time, even an album won’t bring me back, you understand?” You mumble, feeling his arms tighten around you as he kissed your head then shoulder.

“There won’t be a next time.”

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 8/8 [COMPLETED]

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 8/8 WORD COUNT: 4, 800+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | cigarette smoking | strong/mature/suggestive language | alcohol use SPOILERS: n/a STATUS: COMPLETED

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight (final)

"Play the Game" Masterlist

You stood by the door, watching the chaos in your brother’s bedroom as he prepared for his wedding at sunset, waiting for everyone to leave so you can finally speak to him in private. He was, after all, the only one in the family you cared for enough to inform him of your decisions.

People always say you and Gojo were similar. However, those very things that made you alike also set you apart. Besides the platinum white hair and remarkable blue eyes you shared – unique even within the clan – being the absolute obvious, the similarities stopped there.

You siblings were supposed to be akin to one another, but the same things they loved about your brother were the same things people abhorred about you. You and your brother were both prodigies. He was richer than the whole clan, all assets combined being the successful businessman he was ever since he was in his teens. It was as freakish as it was awe-inspiring. You were an artist of great renown with your multi-million dollar pieces and the youngest to have been dubbed as a national artist when you were the same age as him.

But where he basked in fame and acclaim, your prominence was fueled by infamy. Gojo built an empire that served as one of the pillars of the local economy. You produced artistic pieces that inspired execration and controversy. Undeniably brilliant, yes, but absolutely contentious.

Your brother was kind. In fact, he was the best older brother one could ever ask for, and that was not lip service nor was it because of your biases towards him. You can never discount how caring he is to you, how hard he tries to make you happy and how he would go through lengths as to be the idiot just to satisfy your whims. He was just genuinely good-natured although he appeared somewhat insouciant. He had his evil streak, too, which is established in the clan, but his goodness radiated like a light that followed him wherever he went.

However, you have long accepted that your side which reflected Gojo in every way when you were younger had long died. Altruism wasn’t one of your strongest suits and you were only ever affectionate to people you had deep, deep fondness for. And that wasn’t even something common. Even your parents had always been the receiving end of your lackadaisical attitude.

He attracted people, you repelled them. Being surrounded by the good people he called friends was a testament to that no matter how vexing his personality was, and more people want to be near him. Apart from your three friends, you didn't make any more and your school life sucked because majority of your classmates hated you. For what, you didn't know. You don’t think you will ever understand.

It was your seven-year gap that made all the difference, you liked to think. It was much easier to swallow than the concept of the whole cosmos conspiring to create two creatures to be equals but of the opposite nature. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be that way, but you will always be the one looking up to him regardless if you did not choose the same path as his; regardless of whether there were no comparisons with what either of you endeavored to do.

And above everything else, you loved Satoru very much.

“Got a minute?” You began, standing before him in front of the mirror. It was rather annoying watching him struggle with the cufflinks, and you didn’t think he would manage to fix the bowtie still hanging loosely on his neck. Thus, you thought of taking charge. “Give it here.”

Gojo was surprised, but he was nonetheless happy. He wore his heart on his sleeve after all, and you could only guess it was that vulnerability he risked showing that attracted people to him. You have only learned the intricacies of such a matter recently, something you had to agree with since it all made perfect sense.

“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the side, watching you work on his cuffs.

“You’re really getting married, huh?” you began, feeling yourself start to falter, but you have decided. You may not have gotten him the best wedding gift materially speaking, but you swore to let him in on what was going on with you, to be honest with him like you hadn’t been for the longest time. “Who would have known?”

“Am I finally getting that emotional pre-wedding sibling talk?” he asked, walking towards the seats by the window and looking out into the garden.

“You’re getting married, not being sent away to prison. I don’t even understand why this happens during weddings,” you quipped, sighing. “But I guess you could call it that.”

He smiled at you, patting the space beside him. You did as you were told, assuming the spot, but also looking out the window, watching as the organizers made finishing touches to the garden below. No expense was spared to make the occasion as perfect as it could get. You couldn’t argue with it. Gojo deserved the best, and to him, Utahime did, too.

“I’m waiting,” he said, breaking the silence that had befallen the room. “You’ve been pacing before the door for god knows how long when you should have been getting ready.”

“I got ready much faster than you did.”

“And you look beautiful.” He tilted his head to the side, eyeing you appreciatively. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re all grown up. And what a beautiful woman you’ve become.”

You smirked. “You’re looking at your mirror image after all.”

“Well, there’s that, of course.” He laughed slightly. “But I’m not just saying that because we’re basically the same person. You really are beautiful, baby sis.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, opting for it instead of his usual choice of mussing your hair since it has already been styled for the wedding.

You just shook your head. “Thank you, Satoru.”

“So, what did you want to talk about exactly?”

“The other day…” Your voice trailed off, thinking about what to say. It wasn’t that way before between you and your brother. He was always the easiest person to talk to, always open minded and optimistic about matters. But now that you were going to discuss something that he had vocally opposed, you were a bit scared of saying anything. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do Nanami justice if you decided to hold back now, considering that he was more than ready to speak to your brother.

You’ve both initially decided to sit Gojo down and tell him about your decisions together, but you informed Nanami earlier in the day that you needed to have a proper conversation with him first. It wasn’t just your choice to be with Nanami that was the matter, and you wanted to get things straightened out with Gojo before he gets married.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“You said I don’t talk enough to you; that I don’t tell you things anymore.”

Gojo slowly nodded.

You breathed out. “Things changed. We can’t deny that. I grew up and you…well, you’ve decided you want to spend your life with Iori and build your own family.” Your lips curled up awkwardly as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. It was new territory having such talks with him when you’re used to your easy-going dynamic with him. “I’m scared, too. I mean, I can’t just bother you anytime anymore cause you’ll have your wife and eventually children to pay attention to and prioritize.”

He was taken aback by what you said, immediately drawing closer. “What are you saying, Y/N? You’re my sister. Nothing will change –”

“Our bond will not change, dude, but you have to admit that what I’m saying is true.” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. You beamed at the fact that your fingers were structured in the same tapered manner as his. Even the shape of your fingernails were the same, just that his hands were bigger than your delicate ones. “What I’m saying is that even if you need to do that, I will be fine.”

“Of course, you will be. You’re my sister, and above that, you are your own person, and you’re stronger than you think. You’ve been handling things on your own for as long as I can remember.” He pouted, trying to act cute with you. “It’s disappointing, to be honest, because you’ve never really given me the chance to play my role in your life because you’re always the mature one.”

You were confused now. “What are you on about? You’re my only brother, but I can’t imagine anyone else holding that position in my life. You’re the best I could have asked for. I’ve always looked up to you. You’re my role model.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. The fuck are you so surprised for?” You snickered. “That aside, if you felt like I’ve been leaving you out, that’s not the intention at all. I always want you to be the first one to know what’s going on with my life…”

He clucked his tongue. “I understand you’re not doing it on purpose, kid. I’m just worried that you didn’t think I’m worth telling anything because, well, I’m not exactly a proper adult, am I?”

“You’re realizing that now that you’re about to get married?” you taunted him, jabbing your thumb towards the direction of the garden. “Should I tell Iori to call this whole thing off?”

He waved you aside. “Hey, don’t say that!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, there’s something I wanted to tell you for a while now.”

“How long is a while, exactly?”

“Years and years.” You flashed him a rueful smile. “I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you because I am not exactly sure how you feel about it although you’ve told me many times you were opposed to it. What I’m saying it that, I know that fact, but it’s the motivation behind it that is beyond my knowledge.”

Gojo’s eyes rounded, realizing what you were saying. “Are you…”

You nodded. “Yes, I am talking about Kento.”

He just blinked and stood up, pacing around in front of you for a while that you had to stop him from doing it. He had such a bad habit of doing that when he is in deep thought, and always in front of you, too. He was making you dizzy.

You seized him by the wrist. “Please say something.”

“I…”

“Why are you opposed to it?”

He stopped pacing and faced you, taking you by the shoulders, his eyes starting to water. “Y/N…”

“Oh no, are you gonna cry?”

He furiously blinked his tears back, the action almost comical if it weren’t for the serious look on his face. “Because you are my little sister. You think it will be easy for me to just hand you over to anyone? My friends aren’t exceptions to that although I trust them with everything that I have. I will always, always worry about you when it comes to that matter because I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, and I don’t want to have to break either Suguru or Kento’s bones when the time comes.”

“I can manage the latter on my own.” You sighed, finding your resolve strengthening. “But like you said, I’m this old now. I want you to understand that I know what I am doing and I am confident about my decisions. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about this as if I am asking for your permission. This is what I meant when I said I will be fine. I am not saying you don’t have a say in my life, but I am telling you this time because I want you to know before anyone else does.”

“Suguru doesn’t know?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t be petty. I tell him things I can’t tell you just like you tell him things you can’t tell me,” but you nodded anyway. “He doesn’t know yet…I think.”

“So…you and Kento…”

You nodded again. “I’m in love with him, Satoru. And he feels the same way.”

“You are?” His expressions softened, hugging you to him. “You’ve grown. Really grown.”

You returned the gesture, holding onto him tight. “Please don’t ever think that I am leaving you out of my life because I always want to tell you everything.”

Just then, he pulled back, his brows furrowing while his eyes narrowed at you. “So, why isn’t he the one telling me this? Where is that bastard?”

You shrugged. “He wants to be here. Trust me. I just asked him if I could talk to you first because I have issues to resolve with you apart from my relationship with him.”

Gojo exhaled, nodding in understanding. “I understand, Y/N. But are you certain?”

“Yes. I’m scared of hurting him, but I’ll do my best, I guess.”

“Hmm, yeah. Maybe you should tone down on your mischief, too. I don’t want him dying of stress because of you. He’s still precious to me.”

At that, you laughed. “I know.”

He poked you on the cheek. “Alright then. If that’s what makes you happy, I won’t stand in your way. You have my blessing.” His teeth clenched then. “But I’m still going to have to talk to him man to man in case he thinks he’s off the hook.”

“Worry about your wedding first,” you jibed.

“I almost forgot about that.”

“I’m telling Iori.”

He shook his head, feigning panic. “Don’t.”

You both ended up laughing, joking about the guests who were arriving at the garden, poking fun at the relatives you both detested but had no choice but to invite. Just like that, you were back to how it used to be, easily conversing and sharing the same sentiments about things and same penchant for devilry.

Soon, the organizer came to his room, informing him that he needed to go to the garden to prepare. You reached up and fixed his tie and jacket for him, holding him at arm’s length to appreciate your handiwork. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you.” He smiled wide but you saw the nervousness in his eyes. “I’m getting married!”

“You are.”

“I’m more anxious about seeing Kento after what you told me,” he stated dramatically.

You eyed him witheringly. “Shut up and pull yourself together.”

He snickered then. “Kidding. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

The two of you walk to the garden, your arm around his. He stood at the spot just by the last row of seats with you, grinning at you when he saw you looking at Nanami who was already dutifully standing on his spot, speaking to Geto.

“Concentrate on your vows, yeah?” you told your brother.

“I’m off.”

“In case we don’t get to talk before you leave for your honeymoon,” you began, “Just know that I am waiting for the speedy arrival of my nieces and nephews.”

Gojo laughed at that, but nodded anyway and said, “I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

“And Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“I know, kid. I know.” He turned on his heels and walked towards his place at the front pews while you watched, his steps leading you towards the very man you would want to see standing there when the time comes, his halo of golden locks bright under the setting sun but you knew your future with him would be even more brilliant.

**

The familiar bars of Johann Pachelbel’s “Canon” began to play in a modified, slowed-down wedding version made especially for Gojo and Utahime’s wedding, played on the harp, piano and violin, cueing the beginning to the entrance of the bridal entourage. It began with the entrance of the flower girls who scattered petals of different flowers on the white carpet that lined the long aisle.

Arches and bouquets of flowers festooned the garden, with gossamer cloth hanging about, interlaced with live wisteria that hung down from the canopy along with fairy lights that progressively turned on as the sky grew darker. White and pink dominated the color palette as Utahime had wished and the same goes for the reception area. It was probably one of the most beautiful wedding setups Nanami has ever seen.

But his eyes weren’t on the ornaments. They were trained on the end of the walled garden, waiting for your ascent on the marble steps where the white carpet extended, the march made more dramatic by the organizers by opting for a meandering aisle instead of the traditional, straight walkway for the bride. And it did achieve the desired effect when you finally emerged from the steps and into view.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips upon finally seeing you clad in that familiar faded rose gown he had first seen being fitted on you to perfection. He kissed you while you wore that very article of clothing not long ago at the couturier’s shop, and though he thought back then that he has never seen anything more beautiful, he was amazed at the fact that you looked even more gorgeous in it as you glided towards the front.

He loved you so much it hurts, and although you’ve both professed your deep affections for one another and decided to take things head on together, he still felt like he was in the middle of a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. You came closer, and once more, he was back at the semi-outdoor ballroom the first day he came that week, beholding the goddess that was you but seemingly in a different light – brighter this time, overwhelming him to the point that he had to remind himself how to breathe when you finally looked his way and beamed unabashedly, your affections towards him unmasked, real and not under the guise of a game.

“Kento,” he heard Gojo say softly just then, the man’s blue eyes furtively glancing at him.

“Yes?” he answered in hushed tones.

“Hurt my baby sister and I’ll have your severed head hung by the gates of the estate,” he said. “Are we clear about that?”

Geto snickered, concealing it by facing the other way.

“Understood,” Nanami said seriously. “I’m counting on it.”

When you were near enough, you smiled at your brother and Geto before turning your attention to Nanami. You winked at him as you passed by before turning towards your spot opposite them across the aisle, your attention trained towards the point where you came from.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, not even when he felt Gojo hold onto his arm, squeezing tight as Utahime came into view. He didn’t mean to be insulting to his friends. She was beautiful in her wedding gown and he couldn’t help but be moved by the loving look that your brother had on his face as he watched his wife-to-be come closer, guided by her father who will give her away as the sun set. It was poetic. A new beginning after a beautiful end. He probably looked the same whenever his eyes would find you.

The ceremony carried on as everyone sat down, waiting for the couple to exchange their ‘I do’s.’ their vows, rings and the much-awaited kiss. It was making him emotional, thinking of the time when he himself would draw your veil and get to claim you as his for life in front of everyone you both loved and cared about. He couldn’t wait for it, and he may be getting ahead of himself, but he wanted what Gojo and Utahime had with you.

As the minister announced the pair man and wife, everyone applauded and cheered for them. He did so, too, chuckling when Geto whistled loudly, being his cheeky self. Just then, he nudged Nanami on the side, grinning impudently.

“Is it safe to assume you’re next?” he queried in the same manner.

Nanami rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Who knows? Someone might actually steal your heart in the next months and we’ll be seeing you crying as you watch your bride walk towards you by next year.”

Geto snickered at that. “Yeah, right. You looked like you wanted to jump Y/N and replace Satoru and Iori at the altar all this time.”

“Who wants to replace my brother and sister-in-law at the altar?” they heard you say, appearing out of nowhere, your head tilted to the side as you shifted your blue orbs between the two males, but before either of them could answer, you linked your arm with Nanami who smiled down at you blissfully. You returned the gesture, your cheeks blushing prettily under the twinkling lights overhead.

“I see you’ve figured things out.” Geto smirked, patting Nanami on the back just as Shoko came into view, taking the former by the arm, claiming she needed a smoke. She pulled him away, leaving you and Nanami to yourselves, winking as they walked away.

“So, you told him?” you asked, cocking your head towards the wide lawn where the pergolas were, built on three sides of the square and closed by an elevated area for the band, all surrounding a dance floor under a huge, white tent above, also adorned with thousands of lights. It was your design, solely for the wedding reception and a form of gift to the newlyweds.

“Satoru did indirectly when he said he’ll have my head hung at the gates of Gojo Manor if I hurt you.” He shook his head, laughing slightly. “Bastard had the gall to laugh at me, too.”

“He nearly cried when I told him earlier,” you said, regaling him with how your conversation with Gojo went. “He trusts you and is actually afraid I’ll hurt you, too.”

He shook his head. “It’s all part of the process, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm.”

“We’ll take it head on.” He held your hand, twining your fingers together.

You nodded, squeezing his larger hand. “We will.”

Just then, your friends emerged from the reception area with Noabara taking the lead, mischief drawn all over her face as she approached you. “I took care of the sitting arrangement,” she said to you then turned to Nanami. “Take care of Y/N. Make her cry and –”

“You’ll have my head?” Nanami supplemented but Nobara shook her head. “I’ll tan your hide. Satoru gets your head apparently.”

At that, Nanami laughed, nodding nonetheless. But to your surprise, she also turned her attention to you, holding you by the shoulders. “Are you still playing?”

“Nope.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head slowly.

She smiled then. “Good.” She glanced at Nanami. “You’ve got you a good one here.”

“I know.”

They left you alone after that much to his relief, but then you said, “Wanna play a game?”

His eyes rounded and he felt tension again once he heard you say those familiar words, always the preamble to every single mischievous stunt you’ve ever pulled on everyone including him. He paused and looked at you. “I thought no more games?”

You smirked at him. “One more won’t hurt.”

He sighed, giving in. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear to god.”

“So, are you in?”

“When did I ever say no to you?”

You giggled. “Great.”

“What is it about this time?” he asked, indulging you.

“Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru first wins.”

“The stakes?”

You just winked suggestively at him.

**

You forfeited. For the first time, you lost in your own game. It counted – albeit momentary – because you initiated the game…said the very words that began everything that paved the way to the result you’ve always wanted. But you did not really consider it a loss when for the long run, you’ve gained the very person you’d always gladly lose to at any given time.

After you father offered a toast for the newlyweds, the speeches began, starting with Utahime’s parents then yours, eventually moving on to you, then the bride and groom’s shared close friends. Geto had been rather irreverent as usual, pointing out the things that both Gojo and Utahime supposedly disliked from one another yet brought them closer, making everyone laugh when Shoko came up the stage and began her speech, saying, “Opposites do attract.”

You sat on your table with Nanami, both of you waiting for your turns. He was next in line after Shoko, smirking at you as he stood up and walked towards the platform and began his piece by congratulating Gojo, “for landing a very gracious woman who has the most enduring patience I have ever known in all mankind, given the grief that Ieiri, Suguru and I had to endure before Iori came to his life.”

He continued on with his witty address, pretty much reflecting what Suguru said and entertaining the crowd enough when he started to express his gratitude. “While I know that this changes nothing between us as the best of friends – including your nature that tested one’s forbearance – I would like to say thank you for many things. Thank you because you are, well, you…” He did a dramatic eye roll.

The guests laughed.

“Thank you because you are a real person who offered friendship to quiet, boring old me,” he said, droning on about the things he appreciated about the couple before saying the things he was thankful to Gojo about. “And thank you, because without you, without our friendship, I wouldn’t have met the very person I also want to walk this earth with for the rest of my life.”

You would have fallen off your seat when Megumi playfully nudged you if it weren’t for Yuuji who also held onto your shoulders from behind your seat, shaking you excitedly.

“If it weren’t for one Gojo Satoru, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.”

You felt all eyes turn towards you, including your parents and your brother, heat suffusing your cheeks as you tried hard to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot for everyone to see. Nanami has outdone you this time, and you knew you didn’t have a chance to go against that when he had so publicly expressed how he felt about you.

“I love her with everything that I am,” he continued, “and I will continue to do so even without your threat to behead me.” He raised his glass. “To Iori and Satoru. May you have the happiest, most prosperous married life from today and for always.”

Geto whistled loudly while the guests applauded. You also stood up, clapping your hands slowly as you shook your head. You’ve lost big time, backed by the fact that your brother stood up raising his glass as he said, “I couldn’t have wished for a better future brother-in-law.” He then looked at you, smiling fondly.

Nanami got Gojo to state his approval for everyone to hear. You can’t win against that even if you nearly made the latter cry.

And now, you were just happy to be in Nanami’s arms as he swayed you both to the tune the jazz band was playing, your arms hanging around his shoulders and your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head while he held you against him by the waist.

“So?” Nanami began. “How’s that for a final game?”

“Not bad,” you acceded, smirking at him. “I’ll admit defeat.”

“Damn right, you are.” He smiled down at you, his dark eyes reflecting the muted, xanthic lights that surrounded you. “I have a couple of things I’d want you to do for me, by the way.”

You nodded slowly, keeping a straight face at the mention of his prize. “Rules are rules.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Then again, you haven’t told me what you wanted when you won a week ago.”

You grinned, burying your face on his chest, listening to the faint sound of his heart. “But I did get what I want.”

“And that is?”

You met his gaze from under your lashes. “You,” you stated in full confidence.

Nanami nodded, suppressing a smile. “If you say so.”

“I wouldn’t wish for anything else.” You pulled him towards you so you could peck him on the mouth. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what for, but as always, anything for you.”

You chuckled at that. Knowing him, he’ll make good on his words for sure, so much so that you didn’t feel the least bit of worry where your future with him was concerned. “You have to learn how to say no to me.”

“I guess, but since I won, have I finally made it to the list of people you don’t mess with?” he asked.

“As promised, yes.”

“No more games?”

“No more games,” you repeated. “Although I have to say it keeps things interesting between us. Don’t you think so?”

You both dissolved in laughter, the merry mingling of your voices coming to a standstill when he bent down and cupped your cheeks, running his thumb over your cheek before staking his claim on your lips while you returned the gesture in kind, locked in each other’s arms, glad you both played the game. And won.

-THE END-

I would like to say thank you to everyone who read this and kept up with my erratic updating. It's been a good 6 weeks. Thanks!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210814]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[dracowars]

was gud :) i LOVED your last request, and i can’t believe it was your 1 one - you’re definitely talented!! but i was wondering if you could write smth where y/n has a bruise on her face, bc harry and her had a big fight over draco.. she then tells him (cause he her bf), and draco goes completely crazy, and fights w/ harry in the bathrooms (yk movie typa style) - y/n then thinks that it’s all her fault, after he’s completely bruised and hurt -maybe like a cute fluffy ending? i love what you do xx

guardian | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

word count: 5,0k

summary: where y/n stands up for draco

a/n: thank you for requesting! this got longer than i intended lmao and i changed the plot of the movie a little to fit this one shot! hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, swearing, also harry is pretty nasty here

universe: harry potter

It is a cold, snowy and wintry day at Hogwarts, snowflakes slowly floating out of the greyish clouds above the already in a thick layer of snow covered castle. Christmas is just around the corner and everyone is looking forward to the Christmas holidays and to being able to calm down from the stressful exam periods for a few weeks with their loved ones. You can't wait any longer either, because this year will be something very special.

This year you invited your boyfriend Draco to spend the festive holiday season with you and your family so that you can finally introduce him to them - not that they don't know already who Draco Lucius Malfoy is. Even if you are a Gryffindor and your family has very different views and values than Draco's, they are still accepting him and ready to welcome him with open, warm arms. Unlike your best friends Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Given that you were sent to Gryffindor in your first year at Hogwarts, it was only a matter of time before you befriend the three of them. In fact, you first were friends with the Harry Potter himself before he introduced you to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and he is still one of your best friends until this point in time. However, when you got together with Draco Malfoy, the archenemy of the Golden Trio, they could no longer understand the world. How could someone like you be with someone like him?

Actually, you can't really explain it yourself, but at some point in your fourth year - probably when he asked you to go to the Yule Ball with him - one thing led to another and you found yourself madly in love with the platinum haired boy. Of course you can understand your best friends' view on your boyfriend, they have every reason to not like him, but it still does not give them the right to complain about your relationship over and over again. Instead of helping you with affairs of your and Draco's relationship, they often prefer to ignore you or give the popular answer: 'break up with him then'.

But because they are your closest friends, you (have to) tolerate their behavior, even if it has already caused you numerous sleepless nights. And Draco knows that. He knows how much the friendship with them can hurt you at times, and although he is not really fond of them either, he never once advised you to end your friendship. He is always trying to help you because deep inside he blames himself for making you feel so excluded from them. Because he is your boyfriend.

Several times he has already wondered whether he should break up with you just for the sake of you getting included into their friendship again. But he remained a little selfish and also was not strong enough to do it. He loves you too much.

Today, Harry and Ron made nasty remarks about Draco again right next to you in Potions, without taking into consideration that you were there. Only Hermione didn't get into their conversation and talked to you about the lesson. You don't know if she did it on purpose to distract you, but it luckily worked anyway.

Even so, you are smart enough to know that they talked about it until the end of the class. They talk about him all the time, it seems to have been their number one topic of conversation since the incident.

The incident when you went to the Three Broomsticks together several weeks ago to drink butterbeer and just enjoy yourselves, when you had to watch the poor girl Katie Bell, a Gryffindor from your year, pass out in front of you on the way back to Hogwarts. You helped her immediately and she was taken to the St. Mungo hospital. McGonagall later told you that it was a cursed necklace that was responsible for the accident.

And then it all started.

Harry and Ron were quick to blame Draco for the incident with Katie Bell, even though they had no sufficent proof at all. They were convinced that Draco must have had something to do with it, just because he is Draco Malfoy. And in fact, Draco actually acted strange lately, even towards you, but you would never assume that he would do something so cruel. Their accusions have grown so outrageous that you even had to distance yourself from your once best friends.

Still, you never told Draco about it. You know he would blew up in anger if he knew and since he is acting differently at the moment anyway, you don't want to make him feel even worse. That is why you kept it to yourself until now, to protect him.

After a while, you got closer with, mainly, Hermione again, but the constant reminders of what happened did not stop. Nevertheless you try your best to endure it and that is exactly why you are currently sitting at the Gryffindor table in the festively decorated Great Hall, listening to Harry and Ron's conversation, that, for once, is not about your boyfriend or what he might have done.

At least not until Katie Bell, happy and healthy, suddenly enters the Great Hall again after her absence.

"Harry, over there! Katie Bell is back", Ron whispers and Harry turns around to look for her. Immediately, you lower your fork, that still has food attached to it, and swallow down the lump in your throat, waiting for them to make their next move. To say you have a very bad feeling about this situation is an understatement. "Guys. Let her be, she just arrived-"

"I will go up to her and ask what happened. She will surely confirm that Malfoy gave her the cursed necklace", Harry explains, rudly ignoring your comment while already standing up. Before he leaves, Harry gives you a look that says something in the lines of 'i'll prove to you who you got involved with'.

With tension and anger slowly building up inside of you, because he just won't let it go, you can only watch Harry go away and confront Katie. From her gestures you absoultely can't tell what she is telling your 'best friend', you can only hope that she tells the truth and that it wasn't Draco.

Speaking of which, right in this moment Draco enters the Great Hall and unintentionally walks straight towards Harry, who has just finished his conversation with the victim and doesn't even come back to your table but directly walks in Draco's direction. Draco, realizing that something is wrong, turns around and leaves the hall as quickly as he entered it.

With a jolt you get up from the table, accidentally throwing down your fork to the ground, and run out of the Great Hall, following them. You don't know what Katie told Harry, but it can't be something good considering the look that you saw on Harry's face.

"Harry!", you loudly yell at him when you finally catch up to him in a long, empty hallway with no sign of Draco anywhere. You stop Harry from going further by grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. "Stop chasing him, please. Draco has nothing to do with this", you try to convince him, even though you don't even know what Katie told him, and thoughts, thoughts that should not be there and not even exist, creep into your mind slowly but surely. Thoughts that Draco might actually have something to do with it after all.

"Why are you still protecting him, Y/N?! He cursed Katie Bell, maybe even wanted to kill her and you still don't want me to follow him just because you are so blind of love that you don't even notice the monster that he is?", Harry angrily spats out, pointing his wand at you, which he had already drawn out of his pocket while he was running before. Feeling uncomfortable with a wand so close to your face, you furiously slap it away with your hand.

"Don't you dare to ever talk about him like that again", you threaten Harry, grinding your teeth and clenching your fist in an attempt to not do something any second that you would probably regret. "He is and always will be a ruthless Malfoy, Y/N. So stop playing dumb. We both know that he did it", Harry responds, accompanied by a disappointed shake of his head.

"Do you have any evidence?", you ask, expectantly cocking your eyebrow at him. You don't really want to know if he does because if he really does, it will surely break your heart into pieces. "What evidence does it still need for you to finally understand?", Harry huffs out annoyed. "There is no point in discussing with you anyway. I just want to talk to your boyfriend, so if you would excuse me now."

Without waiting for your answer, he continues to run through the corridor quickly, but the anger in your veins has now become so great that you follow him instantly and, this time more roughly, grab him by the wrist, bringing him to a halt. When he removes his hand from your grip angrily, he accidentally hits you directly in the face, which is why you stumble back a few steps.

Shocked, you cover your face with your hands, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes that form from the stinging pain. Not only do you seem shocked, but Harry himself too. Slowly you remove your trembling hands, only to discover a thick red substance on it. Your stomach makes a flip at the sight. Harry hit you with so much force that your nose is bleeding.

"Y-Y/N. I didn't mean to-", he stumbles over his words, trying to make up for what he did only seconds ago. But maybe this was the one action that you needed to realize what kind of a 'best friend' you have.

Or had.

"You didn't mean to?!", you scoff, trying your best to stop the blood from flooding out of your nostrils. "So this was not what you wanted to do for a long time, huh? Did you not even realize how much you and your antics hurt me already? You always think you know everything better and act like the hero everyone has been waiting for when you should really think about whether you are the actual monster here, Potter."

And with these hurtful words you turn around on your heel and go look out for Draco by yourself, not caring what Harry has to say. Most of all, you wish to never have to exchange a word with him in your life ever again.

Still angry, you stomp through the lonely corridors on your own, hoping to find your boyfriend soon, especially before Harry does. On your way you notice that the blood is already dripping to the ground and thus you are trailing a trail of blood drops behind you. You are just about to wipe the blood off with the back of your hand when you suddenly hear crying echoing through the empty hallway. Without hesitation, you run in the direction of the suppressed sobs that are getting louder and louder the closer you get until you eventually stop in front of the boys bathroom.

You wipe your face with your hand once and crack open the door a tiny bit to be able to get a glimpse inside the room. The bathroom is quite dark and cold and your gaze directly falls onto a figure leaning against one of the sinks, sobbing bitterly. His entire body is shaking from crying, your heart breaking at the sight, and you can see the knuckles on his fragile hands turn white as his grip tightens on the edge of the sink.

"Draco?", you whisper as quietly as possible to not scare him, your voice only inches away from breaking at the sight you are seeing in front of you. He always portrays himself as strong and proud when in reality he is breaking inside. His head snaps up instantly, looking at you standing behind him through the dirty mirror, defintely not expecting you here.

Draco turns around to face you, his shoulders hanging low as he so badly trys to stifle his sobs, not wanting to show him his weak side. Only now you notice the deep dark circles under his beautiful eyes - which have also lost their shimmer - and how emaciated his face is, how thin his entire body has become. Trying not to cry yourself because of the horrible sight, you slowly walk towards him, picking up his sweater he threw on the floor. As soon as you stand in front of him, you carefully take one of his trembling hands in yours, neither of you saying a word.

Your hand gently strokes up his arm until you reach his shoulder and you then place your hand on his neck. You look deep into his eyes, which suddenly seem so helpless and anxious. "I haven't seen you in days.. You look terrible, Draco", you softly pout at him, brushing a tear from his cheek.

"It wasn't me, Y/N. No matter what they say, it really was not me", Draco whimpers silently, taking your hand that previously was on his neck in his, pressing it against his chest, right at the place where his fast pounding heart beats against his skin. His sad eyes, filled with so much pain, seek eye contact with you, his face taking a desperate posture, scared about what will happen. Scared that you will not believe him. "I have been doing a lot of very very bad things lately, but I really did not do anything to that girl. You have to believe me, Y/N! I would never-"

"I believe you, Draco", you interupt him with a reassuring smile, glad that he opend up to you even if it was just a tiny bit, and move a little closer to him, gaze focused on your intertwined hands. "I will always believe you, baby. It hurts me to see you like this."

"You were not supposed to ever see me like this", Draco confesses, lowering his head in defeat. You gently place your hand on his jawline and and lead his face to look at you. "Don't say something like that. We all are allowed to sometimes let down our guard, even a Draco Malfoy is allowed to do so. You can't always be strong. And even if you are hiding something from me, I know that you have a plausible reason for it. Because I trust you, Draco. With my life", you explain, smoothly placing a kiss on his tear stained cheek.

Despite your statement that was supposed to soothe his tense posture, worry, that you can easily identify, creeps into his pale face. Contrary to what you expect - that he is still worried about you not believing him -however, this concern applies to you. "You're bleeding, Y/N!", Draco realizes, frightened, and his cold hands cup your face immediately, examining your face in the most precise way.

Since you have totally forgotten about both your nosebleed and the half-dried blood on your hands, your breath hitches as his thumb lightly brushes your nose. Draco's previously white long-sleeved shirt has blood stains all over it now, as does his sweater that you are still holding in one of your hands. "What happened?", Draco asks with concern in his broken voice as you wipe away the blood with the back of your hand one more time.

While you are looking for a suitable answer and the right words, Draco gets you a towel to prevent the blood from running down your chin. Carefully, he dabs it over the lower part of your face while you convulsively grimace. "When.. when you ran out of the Great Hall after seeing Harry and Katie Bell talk, Harry followed you straight away, but I couldn't let him hurt you or do anything to you, so I went after him. I wanted to stop him and, well, he hit me right in the face with his hand", you describe what happend and Draco's expression that was still worried a few seconds ago suddenly turns into one of pure anger.

"He did what?", he spits out, clenching his fists. "Draco, please. I don't think he did it on purpose, but it finally showed me what kind of friends I have. Don't worry, it is not as bad as it looks like", you give him a loving smile, but even that does not seem to calm him down at all. "Not as bad as it looks?! He hit you bloody, Y/N! He is pathetic if he thinks that he will get away with it that easily. No, not with me. I'm going to find this bastard now and teach him a lesson, once and for all", Draco rages, his jaw clenched as he passes you and goes to the door.

You quickly grab his arm and prevent him from leaving when suddenly said person steps through the door to the bathroom. Draco's muscles tense under your grip. "You!", he yells at Harry immediately, jumping towards him but being held back by you. "You hexed her, didn't you? Why did you curse Katie Bell, Malfoy? What the hell are you up to again?", Harry confronts him, his brows furrowed.

"What did you do to my girlfriend, Potter?! Who do you think you are?", Draco immediately counters and tightly grabs Harry by the collar with his free hand. "I swear to Merlin, I will kill you."

Everything happens so quickly that you don't even realize it at first. Harry throws himself on Draco, who has broken out of your grip, hitting im with his fist directly in the face several times before Draco gains the upper hand and manages to kick Harry off of him, who slams on the floor with a cry. "Stop it you two! Do you want to kill yourselves?!", you step in, but Draco quickly gets up and pushes you to the side.

"Get out of here, Y/N. Now!", he orders, but you don't even think of leaving the two of them alone here. When Harry has straightend up again as well, they both have their wand in their hand, ready to fight. "Now it is time to show what the Chosen One is capable of", Draco provokes and shortly afterwards a red spell is already shooting in his direction. Draco skilfully evades the Expelliarmus spell and uses his own on Harry, also missing his target by a few inches.

"You have no chance against me, Malfoy", Harry mentions before attacking again, this time using Expulso. Draco dodges the spell which then hits the mirrors right between you and him, shattering them into a thousand pieces, the explosion throwing you to the ground. The floor of the room fills with water because the sinks were also damaged and Draco hastily pulls you out of the puddle. "Stay behind me", he quietly tells you, shooting at Harry who takes cover behind the toilet cabin.

For a moment, you do not hear any sound from his direction anymore. Draco's and your quick breath and the running water echo around the cold room. You cling more onto his arm, seeking protection, as you hear Harry's steps in the water. Draco immediately pulls you behind him, finding cover. Carefully, he looks around the corner, only to see Harry at the other end.

In the meantime you have also taken out your wand and listen closely to be able to locate Harry's exact position. Draco kneels down on the wet floor and looks under the cubicles, discovers Harry's feet on the other side and shoots Expulso at him. One of the toilets and cabins breaks under the impact of the spell and more water comes flooding onto the ground.

Draco and you quietly take a step forward to face Harry, but as soon as you do, a curse that you have never heard before flies into your direction. Draco stands in front of you to protect you and gets hit by the spell, stumbling back a few steps before falling to the floor with a splash. A loud scream escapes your throat and you manage to disarm Harry with Expelliarmus.

Whimpering, Draco lies on the floor covered in blood, the water around him turning a dark red color. With a cry you fall on your knees and crawl over to his trembling figure, carefully placing his head on your lap and holding his face in your hands. His body twitches at the pain emanating from the wounds that appear as if they have been slashed with a sword, and his lips quiver, emitting suffering noises.

"No, no, no, no! Look at me, baby. It will be alright, okay? We will fix it", you sob, caressing his cheek with your thumb as tears stream down your face. A shadow covers you as Harry slowly walks towards you. "What did you do? What kind of curse was that, Harry?! Undo it. Now!", you yell at him, your crying only getting worse. Shock and regret are written on his face, his gaze switching to Draco, who is suffering terribly. "Sectumsempra", Harry says in not more than a whisper. He himself does not know what he has done and shakes his head in disbelief, suddenly turning away from you and then he just runs out of the flodded bathroom.

"Come back, you coward! You can't just leave me here!", you shout after him, without succes. He is already gone.

While still holding Draco in your arms, you quickly look around for your wand, which lays in the water a few meters away from you. You carefully stretch in its direction and get hold of it. "Episkey", you whisper repeatedly, trying to stop Draco's bleeding, but to no avail. "HELP! Please, I need help. Someone has to help me", you yell as loud as you can, hopefully drawing someone's attention to you. Draco's breathing becomes faster and more irregular by every second that passes, his body trembling under your touch.

"Hold on, Draco. I will fix this, just stay with me, okay?", you assure him, but slowly lose hope yourself since all of the healing spells you have ever learned are unsuccessful. "I am so sorry..", you cry out, your forehead gently touching his. Now, all you can hear are your sobs and Draco's painful whimpers.

And footsteps.

"What happened here?", Professor Snape suddenly appears in the room, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the young and badly hurt Malfoy in your arms. "P-Potter.. He-", you try to explain but Snape shoves you to the side ungently, taking a closer look at Draco's injuries. He takes out his wand right away and runs the tip over Draco's wounded torso.

"Vulnera Salentur", Snape speaks to himself and you watch the puddle of blood that had formed around Draco's almost lifeless body disappear, as do the blood stains on his white shirt. Except those made of your blood.

His breathing regulates itself again and not waiting one more second, Professor Snape picks him up and directly heads to the door. You quickly follow him without saying a word, just sobbing to yourself all the way to the hospital wing. However, before you can go inside, you are stopped by Madam Pomfrey and can only watch Snape laying down Draco on one of the hospital beds before the door closes in front of you.

Heavily crying you lean against the wall with your back next to the door and let yourself sink to the floor, your knees drawn to your body and your forehead on top of them. Your small figure permeated by your bitter sobs, you don't even notice when the door opens after a few minutes and Snape stands in front of you. "Ms. Y/L/N", he clears his throat, your head shooting up in shock while tears run down your cheeks like waterfalls.

"Will he be okay?", you poud, wiping some of your tears away while standing up. "We assume. He needs a lot of rest", he explains and you nod in approval, sinking down your head. "I won't even bother to ask what happened. But you may want to get treated as well", he adds, pointing to the dried blood that is smeared over your face and hands. "Thank you, Professor, but I would rather stay here and wait", you answer in a sad voice.

"Then why out here?", Snape asks reproachfully, cocking an eyebrow. Confusion written all over your face you stare at him, not understand at all what he is pointing at, and he just crosses his arms with a sigh. "I told Madam Pomfrey about you and your relationship to Mr. Malfoy. She allows you to stay with him as long as you stay quiet", he explains. "O-Of course! I will not make any noise", you assure him and with a nod he leads you into the hospital wing.

Draco is lying on a white hospital bed with closed eyes, the blanket pulled up to his chin, only his head peeking out from underneath. Madam Pomfrey eyes you suspiciously, but still points to a chair next to the bed which you are supposed to sit on. You sit close to the bed and look at Draco with sad eyes, your tears still finding their way over your already damped cheeks. There are bluish purple spots on his face, the result of Harry's punches, and his lip has been treated where it was split open.

"He should regain consciousness soon. I have never treated a student who was under the Sectumsempra curse before. Let us hope for the best", says Madam Pomfrey as she clears some medical bottles from a small table next to you. "You are lucky that Professor Snape was there."

"Thank you, Professor. For everything", you sniff and give him the best warm smile you can manage right now. Snape seems quite surprised at your words, but then nods before leaving the room. Madam Pomfrey also leaves you and Draco alone for now.

The longer you look at Draco and his current condition, the worse the guilt builds up inside of you. You gently touch his forehead with your tembling hand and brush a platinum blonde strand from his face. "It's all my fault", you cry and search for his hand under the covers, which you then carefully take into yours. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Dejected and overwhelmed by guilt, you drop your head and cry relentlessly, your sobs giving the empty room a sorrowful atmosphere. Suddenly, you feel pressure on your hand and look up. Draco's eyelids twitching lightly before his eyes slowly flutter open, his gaze meeting yours. "Hey, darling. What's wrong?", he asks in a hoarse voice, worry spreading over his features.

"You are awake!", you say, even more tears running down your cheeks. "I was so scared, Draco", you sob and he puts his hand on your cheek with a soft smile on his lips. "Look, I'm fine now, Y/N. You don't need to worry anymore", he tries to cheer you up even though you both perfectly know that he is not fine yet.

"If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened. And then I couldn't even help you and there was blood everywhere, your blood, and-", you ramble but his index finger on your trembling lips stops you from doing so. "There is no way that it is your fault, sweetheart. If anyone is to blame, it is Potter", he denies your statement. "B-But you could have die-"

"Stop it, Y/N! If anything, you saved my life. And I would do the same for you. I would go through this pain over and over again if it means that I can protect you", he states and you fall into his arms, his eyes now full of tears as well because in his eyes it looks like you have suffered a lot more than him. All the blood that is still covering your soaked clothes, your hands and your face, shows him that you are in a just as bad of a condition as he is.

"Don't cry because of me. I'm not worth your precious tears, sweetheart", he claims while giving you a tired smile. "I should have never trusted Harry. I didn't know that you could be so wrong about a person", you apologize again. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"

Draco, sensing your building up feelings of guilt, tries to sit up a bit but abruptly stops in his movement, hissing in pain. Alarmed, you get up and gently push him back into the mattress. "Does it still hurt? Should I let Madam Pomfrey know?", you ask worriedly and smooth the covers over his so fragile looking body. In your mind already on the way to Madam Pomfrey, Draco only shakes his head in disapproval. "No, I'm fine. Just a little bit sore, that's all", he genuinely smiles at you, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him.

Your faces only inches away now you stare into his grey eyes while they roam over your face. "How is your nose?", he asks and his fingers, which found their way to your cheek earlier, lightly brush over the bridge of your nose. His questions makes you huff out and you move away, your cheeks turning in a slightly tint of red. "That is not important right now, Draco. You getting well again is much more important than my nose", you roll your eyes because he is still not paying attention to his own condition that is much worse than yours.

"Not for me", his stubborn self answers, pouding like a child. And before you know it he pulls you back and connects your lips in a loving and cheering kiss. A soft kiss to thank each other for being the other's guardian.

[caffeinatedseri]

The Significance of Sunsets

We’re introduced to the significance of twilight during the Cannibalism Arc via the Tripartite Tactic. 

The essence of the Tripartite Tactic supports 3 core themes of BSD: moral ambiguity, the cyclical nature of life, and the beauty of humanity. 

First, the Tripartite Tactic establishes the moral balance of the BSD universe through the government, PM, and ADA’s interactions with one another to ensure the balance of Yokohama.

Day and night are binary opposites, similar to how the government and mafia operate on opposite sides. That would imply that the government and mafia are always at war with one another, working to bring the other down, but the Tripartite Tactic suggests otherwise.

Both the government and mafia’s survival are necessary to secure the balance of the city, just like how day and night, good and evil have to coexist in a state of balance.

However, there is a middle ground that bridges these opposing concepts together: twilight — as represented with the agency. 

As the evening acts the neutral point from day to night, the agency acts as a morally neutral organization between the government and mafia. They don’t necessarily abide by the laws and rules of “justice,” but they still work to establish a semblance of “good” in this world. 

We’ve seen the government act in suspicious ways, we’ve seen the mafia act in good natured ways, and we’ve seen the agency do both of the sort. Even though the government and mafia are supposed to represent “good” and “evil”, the fact that they break these molds serves to once again prove the moral ambiguity within the BSD universe. 

Twilight also symbolizes another important idea — the cyclical nature of life. As the passing period between day and night, it represents the end of a day, which will always lead to the start of a new day.

This cyclical nature lends itself to a feeling of hope that drives the journey of redemption — the hope that the night will pass and a new day will begin encourages our characters to persevere and hope for something better. 

Cycles also show themselves through character interactions throughout the generations.

Mori abused Dazai → Dazai abused Akutagawa → Akutagawa abused Kyouka, In this case, the cycle of abuse is born (although it fortunately stops at Kyouka). 

In parallel, Oda helped Dazai → Dazai helped Atsushi → Atsushi helps Kyouka, For this, the cycle of redemption is born. 

As twilight is a time for sunsets, sunsets are an inevitable motif for these themes. The arrangement of colors in the sky, characteristic of a sunset, tends to evoke feelings of awe or admiration for the beauty of such sunset. The beauty of a sunset symbolizes an appreciation for the beauty of humanity, aligning with the theme of accepting human nature as is. (think Dazai)

Keeping in mind these 3 aspects: moral ambiguity, the cyclical nature of life, and the beauty of humanity, the significance of every scene with a sunset becomes more prominent. 

Sunsets in BSD always appear at important points of the narrative, with my favorite being:

This scene’s significance is primarily Dazai’s transition out of the mafia as represented through the light shining through the window — as if light is being shined on the darkness that had surrounded his life.

This scene happens to be one of my favorites because it touches upon all three themes that the twilight-esque light represents.

Moral ambiguity: Oda knows that Dazai doesn’t care about justice or evil, or defining aspects of morality, so Oda argues Dazai should work for justice. Oda doesn’t try to argue that justice is morally correct, but he simply says it is “better” in an extremely vague way. 

The idea of Dazai joining the side of justice with no strong moral conviction opens up the concept of moral ambiguity. Is it important for him to have a moral code if he wants to find the purpose of his life? Can he help others if he doesn’t believe it’s the “right” thing to do? Does it matter? 

Most importantly, does saving others whilst not believing in the standards of morality place you within the boundaries of justice or evil? Or are there no such defined boundaries? 

Cyclical nature: Oda pushes for Dazai to save people, instead of killing people, mirroring the actions of Natsume-sensei who helped Oda come to that same resolve. This starts the cycle of Dazai helping Atsushi, Atsushi helping Kyouka, and hopefully Atsushi getting to help Akutagawa as well. 

This scene also reflects the idea of the “end of the night”, or the start of a new day as Dazai abandons the PM, and starts anew in the Agency. 

Beauty of humanity: PM Dazai was arguably the most “inhumane” version of Dazai that we’ve seen, due to his heavily logic driven intellect and distrusting tendencies. 

However, in this interaction with Oda, we finally see his humanity shine through. Oda gives no reasonable, straight-forward explanation as to why Dazai should leave the mafia, but Dazai follows his advice regardless because of their trust. 

The ability to trust and love, an innate part of human nature, can be seen as foolish from the eyes of the logic-driven, but ultimately that’s what makes being human beautiful. 

I admit the last scene may have been a little vague with whether the setting was actually a sunset, but this one is more obvious!

This takes place after SSKK’s fight with Francis, and they regroup with Dazai, Fukuzawa, and Kyouka. 

Cyclical nature: As the finale of the Guild Arc, the sunset represents the end of a day and the start of another as they close this chapter of their lives. It also parallels Dazai’s “redemption” scene, as Kyouka finds her redemption in sacrificing herself for others and becoming part of the agency. 

Just as Oda was able to help Dazai in the previous scene, Dazai is the one who tells Kyouka exactly what she needed to hear in order for her to survive and find a home in the agency. 

Beauty of humanity: Being human means to be compassionate, and I’d argue that Kyouka was uncompassionate in the past, just because no one had shown her what compassion was like. However, Kyouka grows from that — with the help of Atsushi and Dazai showing her empathy and kindness, she’s able to reciprocate that feeling and be willing to give up her life for the sake of others.

Dazai also praises Akutagawa for a short moment in this scene, which is also an act of compassion from Dazai although Akutagawa deserves more than that.

This scene follows the party at the end of the Cannibalism Arc, as Dazai and Atsushi have a nice heart-to-heart.

Dazai’s toast here is technically an anime-only moment, but obviously all of the sunsets are anime-only. Regardless, I’ll be discussing his entire talk with Atsushi here, along with the toast. 

Moral ambiguity: Akutagawa’s promise to not kill anyone for 6 months mirrors that of Oda — a mafia member who doesn’t kill. By doing so, he directly challenges the morality involved with being a mafia member (what would be “bad”) and breaks away from the black and white labels of “good” and “evil.”

If we followed the code of justice, presumably the morally “right” way, then it would dictate that Akutagawa would need to be punished for the crimes he committed. However, Atsushi’s decision to form that promise with Akutagawa gives him an opportunity to grow and redeem himself, even if Akutagawa fits with the “evil” label. 

Akutagawa and Atsushi are obviously foils — they’re different in almost every way, which you could use to define Atsushi as the hero and Akutagawa as the villain, but it’s undeniable that they also share many similarities. As the line between “good” and “evil” blurs, moral ambiguity is developed. 

Cyclical nature: Once again, this scene closes out the Cannibalism Arc, with the sunset symbolizing both the end and beginning. 

Atsushi’s promise with Akutagawa parallels that of Oda’s dying wish to Dazai; they’re both founded on the basis of trust, and they push towards a brighter future for Akutagawa and Dazai respectively. Thus, the cycle of redemption repeats itself once more. 

Dazai’s “To the stray dogs” statement also parallels his toast with the Buraiha trio (Dazai, Ango, Oda). It could be just a callback to Oda, but it also expresses Dazai passing on the toast to Atsushi, from one stray dog to another. Nevertheless, this still represents a cycle of actions in which the previous generation affects the present. 

Beauty of humanity: Dazai toasting to Atsushi with the phrase “stray dogs” offers a sense of compassion and hope. Dazai and Atsushi have undoubtedly grown closer to one another throughout the entire series up to this point, so it makes perfect sense that Dazai shows that he cares by sharing a piece of his past with Atsushi.

Toasting directly to the stray dogs implies a celebration of sorts for these dogs, who are stray but ultimately not alone. The toast is indicative of a hope for a better future whilst also acknowledging how one can feel lost in life (and how that’s okay). 

Atsushi’s promise with Akutagawa also serves as an attempt to teach Akutagawa the beauty of humanity, since Atsushi believes that Akutagawa doesn’t see the value of life (which is preventing him from getting Dazai’s approval). I would argue that it should be the other way around, but Atsushi has good intentions here.

After Atsushi discovers the death of the Headmaster of his orphanage, Dazai gives some comforting advice.

Moral ambiguity: Atsushi struggles with his conflicted feelings towards the Headmaster’s death, which is perfectly understandable. 

The Headmaster can’t be defined as completely good or completely bad, because he did impact Atsushi’s life in a way that led him to where he is today (once again, no definitive black or white answer as to whether that’s good or not).

Atsushi struggles with the thought that he has to pick whether to feel glad or upset, in order to fit within the neat labels of black and white, happy and sad. In response, Dazai (the definition of a morally ambiguous man) simply says: 

Although Dazai says “There’s no one who can fully grasp the deepest feelings of another person,” in the anime, I think the meaning of that is better stated in the manga. Dazai reasons that he can be both glad or upset, his feelings can be mixed, and there is no clear cut answer for how to feel (as Dazai only gives a general piece of advice). 

Cyclical nature: Dazai’s statement, “when someone’s father dies, they tend to cry”, could honestly be interpreted in a multitude of ways. 

Dazai’s reference to a father figure suggests that this “father” is simply a person who impacted their life greatly and made them who they are today. (since both of their fathers are unknown).

Following this definition, Oda is the father figure to Dazai in the same way that the Headmaster was to Atsushi. Although their methods of “helping” Dazai and Atsushi differ very drastically, the same cycle of this “father” figure impacting the life of their metaphorical son repeats.

Oda giving advice to Dazai, and Dazai giving advice to Atsushi is also another cycle — the cycle of reaching a hand out to someone in need. (which is the more sensical of these two conclusions)

Beauty of humanity: Dazai’s ability to be compassionate truly shines in this scene and shows just how much he’s grown from his time in the PM.

In contrary to PM Dazai’s unfeeling self, Dazai is able to empathize with Atsushi on a personal basis; just as the Headmaster was a integral part of Atsushi’s past, Oda was the same for Dazai. 

Dazai’s growing ability to understand others demonstrates his willingness to grow more accustomed to human nature, and love it for what it is. 

Atsushi’s confusion in dictating what he should feel also speaks on the nature of humanity; his feelings don’t have to make sense for him to feel them. In fact, the more illogical his emotions are, the more human he is.

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— PALM TO PALM IS HOLY PALMER’S KISS ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1846

SUMMARY: You’re back to teaching at Gotham High and you end up overlooking rehearsals for the GHS drama club’s upcoming annual play: Romeo and Juliet that no one ever attends. In the spirit of keeping your students’ hopes up, you decide to take it upon yourself to draft out a plan to drive more people to come to the play. The key is the man you’re in love with.

WARNINGS: Vague description of a nightmare, death and an annoying teenager.

A/N: This is really going slowly like a true slow burn. I hope yall like this one. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

In the light of your unemployment as a teacher, Gotham High miraculously offered your old job back after Mrs Wilson, one of the senior English Literature teachers, died of a heart attack unannounced. In all seriousness, apologies were made, admitting they had a mistake with firing you because well, you were clearly a passionate teacher. To your surprise, you were told your students even missed you. Hence, you accepted a job from GHS once again because you would do anything to avoid the smell of burgers and the sounds of hungry crying children. After the whole burglary incident, the Big Belly Burger at midtown was forever doomed as customers gradually decreased over time. It was Gotham after all, people should be used to these kinds of things by now. Including witnessing Batman saving you, the whole experience felt like a fever dream. As excited you were and weirdly unbothered by the whole near-death experience, you realized that if you were to talk about it, no one would genuinely believe you anyway. He was a myth to most citizens of Gotham, but you’re an exception because you’re well acquainted with the knowledge that Bruce definitely knows Batman.

And oh boy, do they talk.

It’s your secret to keep and so is the Batarang you stole. You’re also dying to tell Bruce.

So, you find yourself back in the hallways, crowded with sweaty teenagers, but you would choose this over anything else in a heartbeat. Apart from returning to teaching uninterested students about the works of Shakespeare and Harper Lee and forcing reading lists onto them, you are also replacing Mrs Wilson as the GHS Drama Club’s advisor. Stage performance may be personally foreign to you but plays were practically your forte. That was how you ended up spending your Tuesday afternoons, preparing the members for the club’s annual play. This time, they decided to perform the classic: Romeo and Juliet.

As an English teacher, you were frankly sick of the play, forbidden love was a tad overrated to you. Yet the kids were genuinely trying their best. Shaniqua and Oscar were currently rehearsing their lines as the two infamous star-crossed lovers; You watched them with pride. The two were quiet in your classes but they truly shone on the stage of the school theatre.

“And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss—teach, what does this whole scene even mean?” Shaniqua exclaims and you chuckle, “This scene is simply a metaphor where Romeo is a pilgrim wanting to erase his sins and Juliet is a saint. So, he is basically trying to convince her to kiss him so that he can truly be free of sin,” your explanation echoes through the room, and you notice Oscar turning red when you mention the word ‘kiss’. It was clear as day that the poor boy really liked the girl he’s currently hand in hand with but you don’t want him to feel nervous and uncomfortable about the thought of kissing her. “Now Oscar, you can kiss her on the cheek and that’s fine. Shaniqua, say it with more emotion, okay? Everyone got it?” The response you received was a sputter of hums and nods. Before you could continue, Josh, who plays Lord Capulet and is sitting lazily on the handmade throne, speaks up much to your dismay, “Why is it so important that we put so much effort into this. It’s not like anyone is going to come.” The kids around him began agreeing with his statement, and it was honestly completely expected of him but it was the truth. No one attends the drama club’s annual play. As you're trying to calm everyone down, your phone buzzes on the table in front of you. It’s a text from Bruce, asking if you could come over tonight, phrasing it like he’s a schoolboy sneaking from his parents to meet with a girl late at night. Then, like an epiphany you have an idea although there’s an eighty percent chance it wouldn’t go through. Nevertheless, you turn to the rest of the students with a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have just the idea to solve that.”

-

A brief span seemed like an eternity when sleep doesn’t come easy to you. Tonight was a different case; thoughts were completely clear and concise. In much need of sleep, you steal the chance to savour in this clarity and serenity for as long as you could. To feel his warmth, arm gently resting on your abdomen and the occasional whiff of his deodorant from his ebony shirt you’re dressed in. If this was what bliss feels like, you never want it to go away. Your eyes grow heavy, flickering into darkness due to exhaustion from a long day of rehearsals. At once, you’re struck with the reminder of the idea you had this afternoon. It is more of a favour, involving none other than Bruce. There’s a tinge of guilt whenever favours are involved because you never liked asking for help. You were furiously independent and responsible, relying on others was out of the question. Yet, Bruce has always seemed to find a way to weave himself in your mistakes and problems, constantly there to help out. You have to remind yourself this isn’t about you. It’s for the kids. Special guest, Bruce Wayne, playboy and billionaire. Sounds awesome.

As your consciousness begins ebbing away, you feel Bruce shift from beside you, grasp tightening upon your waist. Before your dazed mind could even fully process that he was in the midst of a nightmare, his eyes are wide open, heart-pounding and it seizes him up instantly. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes once more, unable to shake the feeling of dread that rattles in him. Then, a sudden cold touch to his arm—he jumps and snaps his head to look over his shoulder.

It’s you, still laid in bed with a prominent frown upon your brows. Your hand squeezes his forearm and all he feels is instant relief. His heart still pounds, not in fear but with affection. “Are you okay?” you drawled as you watch his lingering hand, fingers weaved between the strands of hair. The silver ones glint under the low light, contrasting the deep brown ones. You notice how his hair had grown along with his five o’clock shadow becomes more evident by the days. His face away from you, finally nodding in response to your question. “Yeah, just... a bad dream. His voice is subdued as he shifts under the sheets, head leaning against the headboard. Despite your weakened state, you bring yourself to sit up, twisting your body to face him properly. "You wanna talk about it?” you say, patting his shoulder lightly in a comforting manner. You watch him rub his eyes, exhale tightly and shake his head. “No. Anything but that.”

His response comes out almost harsh but Bruce doesn’t mean for it to be perceived in that way. His dream was the usual, the normal ones he’s used to by now but in times of stress overwork, they have started to become more intense and violent. This time it involved you, for the first time, and he watched you vividly get shot in the forehead—trails of his memory as Batman when he encountered you at the burger restaurant with the muzzle of a gun inches away from you. It haunts him to think that if the circumstances were different if you hadn’t texted him those dreaded four words, you might be dead.

He certainly is not telling you about the dream. Never in a million years.

Bruce turns to you and you’re still staring at him, worry carved deep in your furrowed brows. Change of topic was merely necessary at this point. “So, how has school been? The kids still mean to you?” Classic Bruce, always sweeping his problems under the antique Persian rug. You don’t blame him because you wouldn’t know better.

It was your turn to sigh at the mention of school but since tonight’s pillow talk is heading towards your job as an English teacher at GHS, you might as well use the opportunity to pitch in your plan. “Still mean, but the drama club kids are really great,” You thumb the edge of the blanket, unable to hide your growing smile. “Speaking of which, the annual play is next Friday and they have been rehearsing all week but,” you paused as you watched his right brow gradually lift. “No one comes for it. Like, no one and I hate to see all their efforts just thrown out the window like that—”

“So, you want me to go for it.”

You blinked, wondering if your explanations were too obvious of its underlying intent or Bruce could just read you like an open book. You won’t be surprised if it’s the latter.

“If it’s no biggie. You don’t have to because I know you’re very busy but I don’t want the special guest to end up being the Big Belly Burger mascot.” Your smile widens and Bruce chuckles. Hell, it’s probably past midnight and you’re still able to find ways to be terribly funny. Literally terrible. After a beat of silence, he clears his throat. “I’ll clear my schedule.” It didn’t need much anticipation or thought because despite everything going on in his life, he knows he’ll do just about anything for you. You’re practically beaming at him and he finally sees it’s all worth it in the end. “Thank you, Bruce.” Your voice is sweet, and it makes his heart swell ever so slightly.

He sometimes wishes the two of you weren’t trapped in this loophole of unsaid confessions and hidden strong emotions for the other.

It almost comes naturally when he leans to you and presses a swift kiss to your forehead. Instead, it’s contradicting everything the two of you consider normal. He isn’t thinking straight and now your smile has disappeared, mouth agape and eyes very wide. Your brain stops.

Uh, what the hell just happened?

It hits him like a punch to the gut and the growing awkward silence is deafening. Yet, he doesn’t apologise because if he does, it doesn’t mean anything when in reality, it means so much more than just an accidental gesture. You don’t mention anything because you don’t objectify his actions. Kissing Bruce was fine when there are no strings attached but a peck to the forehead is way too affectionate for the man.

Before the both of you begin to overthink the events of a few moments ago, Bruce’s rational conscience kicks in and he clears his throat. “Get some sleep. You had a long day today.” He pats you on the shoulder awkwardly and you hum, shifting your head to lay back on the pillow. “Yesterday.” you correct him as it’s well past midnight. He chuckles, now laying flat on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Silently, the two of you agree to forget whatever happened a minute ago and to just...sleep it off.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[nothing-but-dreamy]

VALUED

Pairing: Chocobros x Reader

Words: 2.683

Warnings: fluff, friendship

Synopsis: Yn doubts herself and then, it's good to have a bunch of good friends nearby to remind her that she's valued by them.

"Hey, pretty doll. Why are you with these guys? Join me instead. I'm more fun than them.", a guy, dressed in dusty shorts and an old t-shirt, leaning casually against a boarding, called out with a smug smile as yn and her friends passed him.

Usually, she ignored provocations or flirting like this but this time, Yn sized the guy up, looking doubting about his statement, "I would rather love to die on the spot.", she answered, turning around to continue her way to the motel where the group was currently staying to help out with some hunts before they would continue their journey.

"Uhh, harsh words from such a little girl.", the guy said grinning.

Within one second, Yn stopped and jumped at the guy, casted one of her daggers out of nowhere to press it dangerously close against his throat, "Who do you call 'little girl', huh?", she hissed while staring into his shock-filled eyes.

"Yn!", Gladio called out, reaching her with just three strides of his long legs to drag her away from the guy who was white as salt, "What are you doing?"

Yn was trembling in his strong grip to get free, "He called me little girl. So, let me go!", she hissed through gritted teeth, stemming against his hold once again.

"No!", he boomed with his deep voice, "First, you have to calm down.", Gladio demanded. He was struggling with keeping her in place. Not because she would be that strong rather because he didn't mean to hurt her.

"But he's an asshole!", Yn argued angrily, wiggling under Gladio's hands.

"Hey!", the guy called out as he found his voice again.

"Yes, he is but still.", Gladio said, ignoring the guy's complaint.

"Hey, I can hear you!", the guy called out again but he got silenced by Gladio's angry glance shot at him.

"And you should leave or I will release her after all.", Gladio commanded and the guy disappeared.

As he was gone, Gladio released Yn but was also watching out that she stayed where she was, "What the hell was that? You can't attack random people with daggers.", Gladio said admonishingly, crossing his arms over his chest but his expression softened as he saw her sad glance glued to the ground.

Softly, Gladio placed his index finger under her chin, "Yn, that wasn't just because they called you 'little girl', right? You never did something like this before."

But instead of answering, yn just shrugged with her shoulders and looked away again.

"If it was because of that, you know that none of us sees you like this, right? You're an important part of our group.", Gladio said, calming in hope he got through to her.

"But sometimes it doesn't feel like that. None of you really need me. It's not that I would be useful. All of you are much better fighters than I am. With bigger swords or better skills.", Yn said glumly and because Gladio stayed silent, she took it as an agreement, passed him and the others to go back to the motel room.

Disbelieving, Gladio stared after her. Almost shocked, he watched how one of his best friends went away with slumped shoulders, a hanging head and her hands buried deep into the pockets of her jeans.

"What just happened?", Ignis asked confused as he stepped next to Gladio.

"Is something wrong with her?"Prompto asked, concerned as he also watched Yn walking away. Noctis joined as well, frowning about the unusual behavior. They had watched the scene because they were sure Gladio would be able to handle that. Somehow, they were wrong...

"I have no idea...", Gladio said confused, scratching the back of his neck. Since he knew her, Yn was the best female fighter he had met. Yes, she was smaller but extremely fast. Faster than Ignis and Prompto when she was fighting against creatures and enemies. Yes, she used daggers just like Ignis but she wasn't less deadly with them.

There was no reason for her to feel … useless.

Gladio was still staring after Yn even as she was already out of sight as Ignis stepped in front of him, "We should do something to help her.", he said, tapping with his index finger against his lips, trying to find an idea.

"But what could we do?", Prompto asked, "I always thought she knows how important she is to us-"

"It's not about us. You heard her. She is doubting her fighting skills.", Gladio pointed out. Slowly but surely, he understood what might be going on with her. Even as a King's Shield, he had been at the same point. He just had fought through it.

"So, what are you suggesting? Shall we train with her?", Prompto asked naively that this would fix things.

"Actually, I might have an idea.", Noctis said and pulled a piece of paper out of the back pocket of his pants.

***

Yn sat on her bed in the motel room she shared with the boys and let her legs slowly dangling over the edge while she stared out of the window. Behind the glass was nothing to be seen but sand, dust and a bunch of bushes. The blue sky was cloudless. The weather was sunny and cheerful. The complete opposite to her current mood.

Over and over again, her mind played through the attack on that random guy. And each time, she winced at the memory. Never before, she had attacked someone randomly just because of some teasing. And it wasn't just the 'little girl' thing. It had been the glances back in Insomnia as she had trained with different weapons to extend her skills. She heard the whispers behind her back when she walked next to Gladio who was so much taller than herself while they were discussing new move sets. Then, she left with her friends and even then, someone had asked her if this journey would be the right thing for such a small, pretty girl. As if her height and appearance would be everything that mattered.

With a swift move, Yn casted her daggers into her hands. Kukris. She never had seen such beautiful blades like these two with all their ornaments and detailed engravings. She felt honored as King Regis had given them to her. She felt blessed to be able to wield them to defend and to protect the Prince and her other friends. But nevertheless, sometimes, it felt as if it wasn't enough.

Since they had passed the secure wall of their home, Yn was doubting herself. None of the boys gave her the feeling to be useless. She did it on her own. Years of training and dedication to be a good fighter went south as she saw how good the others were on the field. All of them had much more training and even Noctis was able to wield a greatsword - which Yn couldn’t even move one bit.

While she stared at her daggers, tears were building in her eyes and as she blinked, hot teardrops were falling on the daggers. Angry about herself, she casted them away. Now, she didn't even feel worthy to own them...

"Here you are!", Gladio said as he opened the door of the motel room.

Quickly, Yn wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her black sweatshirt before she turned around, facing all four boys standing in front of her. She was sure they would notice that she had cried but they said nothing about it, "What is it?", she asked carefully, not knowing what would come next.

It was Prompto who answered her question as he jumped on the bed to land next to her, flinging his arm around her shoulders, "Noctis got asked for help by Tikka. A delivery of green beans went missing and we shall take a look if we can find it."

Amused, yn looked from Prompto at Noctis, "You wanna rescue green beans? You?"

"Yeah... I know. Come on, we hit the road.", Noctis said and left the room, followed by Ignis.

Prompto jumped from the bed and ran after them, "On the way, we can check if we find anything interesting so I can take a photo."

"If not, you can take selfies ... as usual.", Noctis teased and because they were already out of sight, yn just heard their bickering.

At the door, Gladio waited for yn, "You know, if you wanna talk about something, I'm there for you.", he said softly, checking on her but stayed silent.

Yn smiled up at him, already feeling better again, "Thanks. I will talk to you just … give me some time."

***

"Just green beans, huh? Green beans my ass.", yn stated as she watched Bulettes emerging form the small wood they just had passed. The four tall, very heavy and very angry animals aimed for her and her friends.

Gladio was already casting his great sword, wielding it over his head, "Come on, a little fight will keep us slinky and flexible.", he said and nudged her shoulder with his own before he smirked at her.

With a grin, yn looked up at the tall guy, "Slinky and flexible aren't words I would use to describe you, big guy.", she said teasingly.

"Ouch, no need to be mean.", Gladio called out, playfully hurt before they both aimed for the first animal.

Quickly, the calm and beautiful meadow changed into a raging battlefield. Gladio and Yn ran to the first animal and even before Gladio could make the first hit, he squatted down and offered Yn his hand and arm. Grinning, she stepped on his arm, one foot on his hand, balancing while casting her daggers and tensing up her muscles before Gladio gave her a push to throw her on top of the animal. Yn landed perfect on the back. Quickly, she found her balance again and while Gladio slammed his great sword into the skin of the animal, Yn swirled her Kukris and sank them into the throat and neck of the raging Bulette. The Kukris stuck but instead to pull them out, Yn spun them around until the animal fell to the ground.

Lifeless.

Yn jumped from the carcass with a flip and landed light-footed in front of Gladio who grinned impressed, "One down, three to go. Come on, I guess the others need our help."

"Yn, over here!", Noctis called out and Yn followed him immediately. Noctis was ready for a warp-attack that would give the opportunity of a blitz attack. Noctis warped with his KINGSBLADE against the animal and bounced back next to Yn. They nodded, taking a run-up of a few steps and while Noctis let himself drop on one knee to attack the feet of the Bulette, Yn ran and stepped on Noctis' back to jump against the broad enemy to thrust her daggers between its ribs into the heart. She stayed a few moments longer to make sure the creature was dead. As it fell lifeless to the ground, Yn stemmed her feet against the ribcage and pulled out her daggers.

Yn was just about to catch her breath as Prompto called her over, "Yn, I could need your help."

She turned her head before she spurted over to her friend. Prompto already had drawn his gun, firing at the beast but as Yn stopped next to him, they nodded at each other with a grin, turning over so they were standing back to back before Prompto was aiming for the animal again. Yn did the same with her daggers. From the corner of her eyes, she waited for his sign. As Prompto nodded with a grin, he fired his gun the same moment Yn threw her Kukri. The shot staggered the animal in its way towards them. It became slower while Yn's dagger penetrated the skull of the animal. The Bulette stumbled over its feet, fell to the ground and slid a small way before it stopped in front of their feet.

As yn thought it would be over, Ignis called her over to him, "Come on, I need you for the finisher.", he called out. With a huge grin on her lips, Yn ran towards him. Gladio and Noctis had made the animal already tired. Ignis and Yn bumped their fists against each other, stepped back and ran then to the animal to attack it at the same time with their daggers before they landed side by side on the other side elegantly on their knees. Everything happened so fast, that the Bulette needed a moment to realize that it had no chance anymore and so, it fell lifeless to the ground.

All five friends were breathless but alive, unharmed and happy. With a rapid pulse, Yn turned around to look at the scene of battle while she casted the daggers away.

Ignis inspected the corpses, "We should take something with us before we find a good spot for camping and cooking.", he said and Prompto already joined him to help with the preparations.

***

Two hours later, the tent was built, the food was cooked and eaten and Prompto, Ignis and Noctis stretched themselves, the sign that they were ready for the night. One by one, they called it a night until just Gladio and Yn were left behind, sitting at the crackling campfire in silence observing the calming flames.

Yn watched how small sparks danced endlessly into the dark blue night sky. Stars were scattered over the firmament like millions of diamonds. Her eyes stayed glued to the stars while she smiled softly, "I know what you all did today.", she whispered, breaking the silence.

"What... what do you mean?", Gladio asked, trying to sound convincing but it wasn't working very well, he saw it in her face.

"There never were any green beans, right?", Yn pointed out, still looking to the stars.

Gladio chuckled low, scratching the back of his neck before he looked apologetically at her, "Actually, no... not really."

"I thought that it was a bit odd for Noctis to run around to search for a bunch of vegetables.", Yn said before she looked into Gladio's face, "Thank you.", she whispered sheepishly.

Gladio laid his arm around her shoulders, "You're welcome, sweetheart. You're valued here. Always. We wanted to show you that.", he whispered before he pressed a soft kiss on top of her hair. He pulled her against his side where she snuggled against his chest. It wasn't the first time that they were seeking comfort in each other but this time it felt more important.

Gladio rested his head on top of hers and looked back into the flames, "We have your back, no matter what. You know, I've been there as well. I also had doubts about myself. I guess that's normal. You just have to remember what you're capable of. We trust you all blindly because we know what you are able to do.", Gladio said low.

A single tear was rolling down Yn's cheek by his words and suddenly, everything that had happened looked stupid and odd. Quickly, Yn wiped the tears away, "I feel so stupid.", she whispered.

Gladio straightened himself to look at her, "You don't have to. It's human to doubt oneself from time to time. And the next time, when you feel like this, just come to me. Talk with me. You don't have to go through this alone. Size isn't all that matters.", Gladio said with a smirk.

Yn felt touched by this big, cuddly teddy bear and so, she threw herself against his solid body with her arms flung around his middle. Gladio mimicked her move and embraced her back, "And by the way, you have the perfect size to lean and to snuggle against me like this. That's a good start, don't you think?", he chuckled but Yn couldn't answer.

"Cuddle time!", Prompto called out and within one second, Gladio and Yn were attacked by Prompto, Ignis and Noctis. Buried underneath her friends, Yn felt her confidence coming back.

She felt valued.

[ahsxual]

Sassy Girl

Pairing: L!Joker x Fem!Reader

Summary: J finally took you to a meeting with his men. After seeing you agitated, he decides to confront you about it once you leave.

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Sir kink, spanking, dom/sub, vaginal sex, nipple play, degradation, rough kissing, slightly exhibitionism, dirty talk, breath play (nothing too serious), sassy reader, swearing

Word Count: 3,3k

A/N: soo me and @harlequinjoke were role-playing about L!Joker and Harley Quinn, and I really liked the idea, so I decided to write something about it <3 It's my first time writing about J (internally shaking). I got inspired by the incredible, unique and talented @jokerslilhyena, so I hope I get more comfortable with time writing him, because I REALLY love that chaotic bastard 💜💚

Gif Credits: @antonija89

You and J had an uncommon relationship: you weren't considered his girlfriend and vice-versa, however you were together. It was a totally different experience dating someone so chaotic as him, someone so dangerous and unpredictable. In the beggining, you actually were scared that he would hurt you, however he has proved the opposite: whenever you argued, he would break the first thing he found, scream or even leave for a long time... but he never would lay a hand on you and would always come back, eventually. However, he never apologized, not directly. He was extremely aggressive and reckless towards others, but with you... he wasn’t any of that. Of course he was very proud, would still throw tantrums here and there and sometimes he seemed indifferent, especially when the subject was about affection. Nevertheless, he loves you in a way that, even if it’s strange and unreal to others, he still shows you that he cares for you, that he doesn’t want to make you feel bad and he does anything to protect you from the rude and injustice world you live in. For you, it’s his "special" way to love and honestly, you are fine with it, since he always comes back to you and keeps you alive and safe.

Sometimes you wondered how did you get where you were, having a "relationship" with the one and only prince of crime, the one that everyone fears with all their being. But you, you were unordinary and different from others... and that's what caught his attention. You knew you wouldn't be judge by him, wether it was physically or mentally.

You always had a thing for villains, J being the most dangerous and strategically intelligent of them all: you saw J as someone who doesn't care about other's opinions, someone courageous enough to prove and make the world wrong, someone who isn't afraid to express himself and be the way he was meant to be... the way life made him. You deeply admire all those features about him: his confidence, his intelligence, his insight...

Today was an unexpected day: you wanted to see how J worked, how he organized and "planned" his ideas, how the "bad guy" life was. J, of course, didn't let you go... at first. He said that it didn't make sense for you to join him and he didn't want to get distracted by you, but you knew that was not the whole truth. J didn't want to show his only weakness to others, especially to dangerous people. As intelligent and practical he could be, he was just one man, so he avoided dealing with even more problems, mainly because you were the one who would be in danger. Nevertheless, you insisted, telling him that he didn't need to present you as someone he was having a case with, just a girl who wants to be apart of his "plan".

J knew you would bother him about that until he accept it, so today he finally gave you the answer you were dying for to hear.

"Oh... really? You won't argue with me about this anymore?" you were surprised for him letting you go.

"What do ya want me to do, huh? You were pressuring me all the time about it, so this is the only way to ah... end this." he was obviously annoyed, but he wanted to do that favor to you too. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he thought, and it would be one time only, so it was not a big deal.

"Thanks, J! I knew you wouldn't be such a daddy, it means a lot to me!" he smirked before you hugged him by the neck, something he was not expecting. He just tapped your back with his gloved hand in response, a gesture meaning you were welcome.

"Come on bunny, I can't be late. The boss have always to show up before his ah... employees." he joked, earning a laugh from you. You quickly put some comfortable shorts and a top that slightly showed your cleavage.

"I'm ready, time to go!" you said excitedly. J noticed that your outfit wasn't the most appropriate, but he didn't have time to tell you to change into something that wouldn't show too much skin. He thinks that you should cover the first piece of your neck's skin, to the tip of your toe. J was a possessive man to that extent... and you were a teasing to that extent too.

When you entered J's stolen car, you noticed how the back seats were spacious... immediately your dirty thoughts signaled their arrival, which made you unconsciously bit your lip slowly. Your clown didn't miss it, being as observant as he was, and instantly thought this wasn't a good idea... at all.

"Ya better stop doing that with your ah... lip, doll. Ya better behave or I will make ya be sorry later." he said in a serious tone. The sexual tension between you two was always evident, something that both of you loved and needed: J could have his way with you, respecting your limits obviously, and you would just enjoy the sex as much as he did, since no other man could dominate and have his way with you the way he did... you were his little masochist, his strong woman that simultaneously was so easy to break. He was obcessed with you: you were his drug, his only weakness, his vicious, his significant other... you just completed him, even though he never told you that, he definitely proved it to you everyday.

You usually have an answer for everything he says, but now you remained quite to not make things worse for both of you. You had to keep that fire inside your core hidden from his men or there would be consequences... after all, he is a man of his word.

You finally arrived to the place where the meeting would occur: it was an abandoned building as expected; around it, was nothing more than grit and some old and rotten cars; the sky was almost black, the stars and moon being the only ones lightning the establishment; there were two men located at the front door of the same big building, and surely there were others in the rear entrance. You couldn’t deny you were feeling nervous. As much as sometimes you wished, you couldn't be completely fearless like J.

"Don't worry doll, ya don't need to be afraid. If something goes wrong, we ah... always have a backup." he confidently said, showing you the inside of his coat covered in bombs and grenades. You laughed once again.

"Sure you do, J. You wouldn't be you if you didn't have it." you said while winking at him. He smirked before getting out of the car.

You knew from now on, until the meeting is over, he would act differently: he couldn't have the reputation of being a murderous clown with a soft spot for his little bunny. No one would take him seriously once that was revealed, and you understood it perfectly.

Once you arrived at the front door, where the two men were, they looked strangely at you and then at J.

"Will ya stay there looking at me like the ah... dick heads you are, or ya will let me pass already, huh?" J was expecting this reaction from them, yet his acknowledge didn't prevent him from being annoyed: he wasn't in the mood to give explanations to anyone, mainly to his temporarily needed men. The two men looked at each other, before nodding towards their boss and letting you both pass the tall, rigid door.

The moment you entered the room, you saw all of his men in their seats, already prepared for their meeting with their boss... and his company.

"Who's that?" a man asked boldly.

"She's our ah... tonight's special guest. She will help us with our mission by dealing with the ah... cops." he lied, successfully convencing them. He knew they wouldn't be suspicious about it, since that was his task. You sitted right next to him, noticing the side glances from some men.

While time passed and J talked about his "plan", you deeply admired how attractive he looked: he was so confident, fearless, so right about what he was saying and doing... it made you think how is it possible for a single man to be so strategic and dominant with others... and when J was with you, it was impossible not getting completely horny, feeling hot as hell and being completely at his mercy, gladly. He obviously noticed your long glances in his direction and felt how your legs would rub shamelessly against each other under the table, where only he could catch your signals, since you were almost glued to each other.

"Any questions about what I just said?" he asked after explaining everything that should be done. His men just nodded in return. "Good. Tomorrow morning, 9:30 am. I will be ah... extremely upset if any of you arrive late. And trust me, gentlemen, you wouldn't like to see me mad." he then got up, grabbing your arm and pulling you in front of him while you were walking, which surprised you. Once you approached the car, he opened the back door and pushed you roughly into the back seat, making you lay down with him above you after removing his long purple coat covered in grenades into the passenger seat.

"Now, now... would ya explain me what you were ah... doing back there, huh? Ya seemed very... restless during the reunion, don't ya think... bunny?" he whispered one of your favorite nicknames given by him into your ear, being so close that you could see every little and precise detail on his face: you could feel his hot breath against your skin and see his pupils dilating more and more by every passed second. J decided to confront you about it, wanting you to admit everything you did back there right in front of his face... and you would be the best liar if you said he didn't give you chills all over your body, especially making your core dripping from excitement and eagerness.

"I-I wasn't doing anything, I was just listening to y-"

"Ata-tada, ya don't wanna go that way, doll. You ah... know very well that I don't like when people lie on my face, especially you... not-one-bit." he madly said, pressing firmly the last words with his skilled tongue. Oh, how you loved seeing your psychotic clown having his way with you...

"What do you want me to say J, huh?? That yes, I was feeling horny like a goddamm whore just from seeing you leading those assholes, that I couldn't stop looking and admiring you?? That I couldn't even countain myself from touching myself like a fucking needy virgin?!" you couldn't take it anymore, so you spelled it out so he could make a move as soon as possible... because you knew very well: if you aren't honest with him and don't tell him what you desire, he will tease until you cry and beg desperately for him to touch you... and when that happens, J won't do anything until you admit it. That's how provocative and bastardous he was... but you loved it. J seemed pleased with your answer, since he grabbed you hardly by your hair and pushed you for a clumsily and rough kiss. You wanted to test his limits a little further, so when you felt his tongue against your lower lip, you didn't give him the permission to explore your mouth like he wished. By this, he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw some blood, showing how you couldn't be in control. If you even tried, you would suffer the consequences. You groaned while you tasted your own blood, seeing his face lighten once he saw and tasted the blood himself. His eyes were totally dark now, just like his soul and heart: you knew how much he loved pain and blood, something that was fully attached to his being.

"Ya really know how to make me crazy, Y/n. And ya know as well that has ah... price to pay, dontcha?" you simply nodded, wanting to feel the little pleasure he was giving to you. Suddenly you felt your neck being forcely grabbed by a gloved hand. "I want a strict answer." he said with a deep and low tone, making goosebumps all over your skin.

"Y-yes..." you moaned quietly.

"I couldn't hear ya. Yes what?" he asked even more serious now, pressing harder into your neck, but not enough to cut your air completely. The car door was still open, so if you spoke or moaned too loud, his men would hear you.

"Y-yes Sir!!" you shamelessly spoke loudly. J didn't closed the door for some reason, so why would you care?

"Hmm that's what I like to hear, my good little obedient girl..." he then rubbed his hips hardly into yours, moving his lips towards your neck while sucking and biting until it was red and purple. "You look amazing with those painted on ya, doll. The purple ah... suits you perfectly." he praised you, slowly moving to your already harden nipples. J grabbed your top and ripped it off, but you couldn't care less about it. Luckily, it wasn't your favorite. You didn't own a bra, grabbing his attention immediately. "Hmm someone hasn't been behaving like they should. Ya know what happens to ah... naughty and miss-behaving girls, dontcha doll? Huh?" he dangerously spoke, while pinching your nipples hard enough to give you immense pleasure and the right amount of pain.

"N-no sir, I don't..." you eagerly answered, afraid and excited at the same time about what it would happen next. He smirked at you, his yellow teeth now red from your blood, a view that would give nightmares to anyone, but it only made you wetter. J slowly approached you, whispering dangerously into your hear.

"They get punished." the only thing you knew was being brutally turned over, making your ass being exposed after he ripped your shorts as well.

"No, p-please sir!! I promise I will be a good girl..." you cried, which didn't affect him at all.

"Too late for apologies now, sweet cheeks." suddenly you felt a hard spank into your right ass cheek. "Count until five to me, doll. If ya don't, I will start over... you already know the rules." you knew you had to endure your punishment or it would be much worse. Obviously he was doing this because he knew you liked it as much as he did: if not, you would never be in the position you were right now. You didn't have a choice but to count every spank he gave you, involuntary missing on the fourth, which meant he would have to do everything over again.

"Five!!" you screamed, your ass now painted in red and some shades of purple. You felt the burning sensation so intensely, you could swear your butt was actually on fire. Yet you wouldn't complain, since you loved the feeling of burnt skin after his spankings. "P-please sir, just fuck me, I'm begging you!! I-I will do anything to please you, anything!!" you cried harder, both of you knowing those tears were nothing but a reaction of the pleasure you were feeling and wanted to feel. J thought for a moment if he should make you beg for him a little more, or have mercy. After all, he was just eager was you were, yet he loves to play with you first more than anything.

He suddenly pressed his cock against your dripping entrance, without give you time to adjust to him. It wasn't too much hard to take him, since you were so wet, he could slide inside you extremely easily. But that didn't prevent you from feeling the pain right after, when he grabbed your hips harder than ever and fucked you faster than the light itself. His nails were breaking your skin with each deep thrust he did, more blood flooding down your thighs. J thought in taking his knife to cut you, but he preferred to do it when the two of you were in your house by yourselves, where he had the whole time he needed to really play with you.

"F-fuck!! Please J, don't stop!!" he loved how easily it was to make you cum. You once told him in your first times it would take time for you to cum, because you were shy and insecure at the beginning. But ohh, how that changed... for better, surely. And you know he was the responsible for making you feel comfortable about it: J is the only man who gives you pure pleasure, without making you feel ashamed. After all, he is not a monster like everyone, incluinding batman, thinks. He's just... a man ahead of the curve.

He grabbed your hair forcely with his left gloved hand, while his right one came directly to rub your clit hard.

"Cum for me, you fucking slut. Show me how such a needy whore you are, let me feel ya squeeze my cock hard while I fuck ya until you can't fucking walk tomorrow." he groaned into your hear, his tone much lower than before. That was enough to make you cum right there, even if he wouldn't touch you at all.

"Ohh f-fuck, I'm gonna cum J!!" you moaned loudly before cumming hard on his thick, merciless cock. You felt his dick twisting inside you, while his pace became sloppy, faster and harder, a sign that he was about to cum.

"I'm going to fill that fucking tight pussy and you will keep my cum inside of ya, do ya hear me?!" he loudly demanded, wanting to hear your response before he cums.

"Y-yes sir!! I-I will keep every last drop of you inside me, please just cum inside me, please... I'm begging you!" and that was it. J came deeply inside you while groaning like a wild animal.

The two of you laid there to get some air, him being on top of you, supporting some of his height with his elbows to not crush you. You gently massaged his back in a comforting way, your code to let him know you enjoyed your moment and were okay, that he didn't hurt you badly.

"Wow, that was... amazing. I should come to your meetings more often." he laughed at this, finally looking into your eyes.

"Ya really aren't innocent as ya seem to be doll, and I really like to see that ah... sassy side of yours. We should discuss that after our... second round when we get back home, huh? I mean, if ya can be able to speak after that." you playfully punched him on his arm while laughing, already feeling excited again.

"We will see about that, then. Let's just get home now, can't wait for that promised second round." you winked at him, earning a big smirk from clown.

"I'm sure they know now that ya aren't just some ah... chick apart of the mission."

"Well, at least they know now that they don't have a chance with me, even if they tried." after hearing that, he kissed you passionately in his own way, grabbing your ass in the process, before moving to the front seat so he could drive home to where both of you will continue your so promised round two.

[thestorytellersapprentice]

Why Do-yeok

I cannot believe I'm writing another one of this "Why" post. I thought it's a one-time thing with Love Alarm... But, here I am. Maybe because just like the previously mentioned Netflix series, Nevertheless causes huge discourse among its viewers. Team Potato and Team Butterfly. Jae-eon and Do-hyeok. Sanctuary or the gravitational pull.

And first off, an important note: my intention by writing this is not to seek any debate with anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, so here's mine. Feel free to read it or definitely not to read it if you're firmly on Jae-eon's corner and you can't imagine Na-bi with anyone else but him. I just want to sort out my thoughts simultaneously through writing this. And this is gonna be a bit long, I suppose.

So, as the title already declares, I'm Team Potato all the way. And, yep, this means I'm thoroughly on Do-hyeok's side and I want him to be happy because he deserves it. (Still need to see what's in store in the final episode, but I'm perfectly okay with an open ending: Na-bi ends up not choosing anyone but herself, as long as her friendship with Do-hyeok remains intact.)

And this comes down simply because of who Yang Do-hyeok is as a person.

If Do-hyeok is real, then you can bet that I'll date him myself too. At the very least, I'd definitely like to be friends with him.

Why?

Because....

One. His whole vibe is just so....warm and comfortable. We often see Do-hyeok's cheerful sides. He smiles a lot (and boy, Chae Jong-hyeop's smiles are just so endearing, but we're talking about the character here. Ahem.) He's attentive, thoughtful, and open. And he's not only like this with Na-bi. He, by nature, is a very friendly person, as you can see from his interaction with Do-yeon, his cousin, also with Na-bi's friends and the hyeongs in the noodle restaurant that he works at.

And I like it a lot that even just after Do-hyeok confesses to Na-bi and she turns him down, the very next day, they're able to speak with each other normally and just talk about his videos and how she'll watch them and give him feedback. That night, Na-bi also answers his call with a smile on her face. They joke around and not even stopping after Do-hyeok throws her some arguably-cringey-lines (if uttered by other guys and not handled properly). Clearly, Na-bi's very on ease and comfortable with and around him despite everything that has happened.

She even says this on her own: "And most of all, I feel comfortable when I'm with him."

Two. With Do-hyeok, the communication is sterling. Honesty and communication is also very important in a healthy relationship. Your partner isn't a mind reader, so you gotta tell her/him what you feel and think about, especially when you're having a hard time, so you both can work on it together. And our potato guy is the perfect example of openness and honesty.

Even when he's having a hard time, he doesn't lash out (unlike a certain someone), but he communicates it clearly to Na-bi: "I saw you and Park Jae-eon going into your house together. I know I said that I could wait for you as long as it takes. But I felt so jealous."

Do-hyeok also casually throwing lines like: "It's nice to hear your voice. The whole neighborhood seems empty without you." which can be really cringey, but hearing these with Chae Jong-hyeop's delivery = it's just Do-hyeok openly sharing his thoughts. And, again, he's not just like this with Na-bi. That's just the way he is. He openly states his concerns and thoughts to people close to him.

After her first disaster relationship and Jae-eon (who's a master deflector on all personal questions and is truly opaque), IMO someone like Do-hyeok is what Na-bi needs. With Do-hyeok, she never has to guess where she stands. And Na-bi responds to his openness accordingly. She shares her worries and not-so-good moments ("I was spacing out because the critique went badly. I got scolded. This semester is really the worst. I didn't get accepted to the exchange program as well.") And of course, Do-hyeok responds by reassuring and encouraging her.

Three. They begin as friends. Childhood friends, even. And while some may point out that she friend-zones him, I beg to differ. The expression on Na-bi's face when she first sees Do-yeon and hasn't recognizes her is not the expression of someone who sees her just-platonic-friend conversing with a girl. You can practically see the gears in her head turning and she suddenly looks unsure: "Who is that girl talking to Do-hyeok?"

But anyway, iIluminatedquill has written here and here what I want to say and more, so I won't add any more here, other than this: it's my own personal preference as well. I'm just more drawn to romantic relationships which also evolve from friendship. I feel that lust will only get you so far, and the companionship aspect is what makes it long-lasting. (Even in my personal life, my boyfriend is not only my boyfie, he's my friend and partner in crime also.)

Four. Do-hyeok has good and normal relationships with his family. He obviously has good relationship with his Grandpa (judging from the way he's reviving his Grandpa's noodle place until his Grandpa feels better) and is close with his cousin, Do-yeon. While this is based on what's been shown and even though we never see or hear about his parents, I think it's safe to say that Do-hyeok most probably grows up in a loving family and he carries their values with him as he approaches his relationships with people as an adult.

Again, this is mostly personal preference, but as someone who highly value family, for me this is another point for Do-hyeok. I'm not saying that someone with dysfunctional family cannot form loving relationships, but it's what one aspires for.

Do-hyeok cares for people. He takes care of them (e.g. voicing concerns over Do-yeon's plastered hand, preparing umbrella and coffee for Na-bi, etc etc). And, sadly, Jae-eon's distant family background just makes him even more detached and non-committal towards people.

As for Na-bi, she wants to learn from her mother and not following in her footsteps. "I promise myself I would never date while watching my mom." It's heavily implied (and is practically confirmed by her aunt) that her mother dates around as well, and from the one scene we're shown during her birthday weekend, she always feels like her mother neglects her and she's upset about it. So, yeah, Na-bi wants to live differently, and it's clear who's a natural at it already.

Five. I can see them growing together. Yeah, Na-bi's mostly the one who needs to sort out her life, but she also can be a good influence to Do-hyeok. She gives him feedback on his videos (as an example) and he builds upon that.

From Na-bi herself: "I don't want to ever disappoint Do-hyeok." She sees him as such a good guy and always receives things from him. I interpret her line here as her desire to improve herself, to be better. And that's how a good relationship should be, right? It brings out the best out of each other.

That's it from me for now.

I guess some of the points up there can be different priorities for different people, and that's okay. As I've said at the beginning of this post, this is all mine, so feel free to disagree.

To me, Jae-eon is like this very strong gravitational pull: he's sexy, mysterious and very alluring, yet he displays oh-so-many red flags. It's all such a rollercoaster ride with him: very fun and thrilling, yet can also cause you extreme dread.

While Do-hyeok is like a sanctuary. He represents safety, stability and ease. With him, it's like strolling on a park somewhere under the sunshine: things feel warm, pleasant, and cozy.

Na-bi probably still feels the gravitational force of Jae-eon. It's hard to shake off completely on such a short span of time, but I hope she remembers that just like her namesake, she always have her own strength to fly and defy gravity.

[kingk8art]

hetalia rant

pls ignore how I won't use any proper punctuation or capitalization because my arms and fingers all hurt from volleyball :( Edit: My arm’s are better now so I’m actually using proper capitalization and punctuation (special thanks to my friends for proofreading and also Google autocorrect.) Special thanks to my friend for helping me out with writing this.

so i'm one of those people who joined the hetalia fandom like REALLY late, having first watched the anime in like 2017 or 18. Nevertheless, when I heard about how the anime was coming back in 2021 I was really excited!! I’ve been reading world stars lately but there’s just something in the hetalia anime that made me love it so much. the voice acting and how it’s animated and everything, it really brings the characters to life! out of curiosity I searched up hetalia on twitter. keep in mind that i’m pretty new to the fandom so i never really got to see the shipping wars, or really any toxic part of the fandom, since i wasn’t there when hetalia was at its peak.

What i saw was really different from what i expected to see. I kinda expected twitter threads hyping up the new season, or things like that but most of ones I found in the top section were hate comments about hetalia, and things about why it shouldn’t come back. I was reading these and I was like, wait why? Some of them actually made sense, and the others had flawed logic. Here are my rants on why hetalia ISN’T anti-Semitic or problematic (as of now).

Misconceptions About Hetalia

1. Hetalia is About Nazi Germany or the Holocaust

If you’ve actually watched the show/read the manga, it’s quite obvious that although some of the events take place during WW2, it never mentions Hitler, Nazis, the Holocaust, or anything like that. and there’s a good reason for it. In the first place, hetalia isn’t meant to be a serious comic. The manga only focuses on subjects like funny things that happened to historical figures/occurrences during a war, weird inventions; generally those kinds of things. It focuses on the cultural differences between countries, or wholesome moments in history (such as when two enemies stopped fighting on Christmas day to play soccer.) Hetalia itself is antiwar. Consider the main character himself: he absolutely hates fighting. I don’t see how hetalia can be anti-Semitic or pro-war at all. But what I will say is fucked up are those certain cosplayers that did the Nazi salute, posed in front of a Holocaust memorial, etc. But I can still guarantee that the MAJORITY of the fandom is not like this. Every single fandom has its bad apples, some more than others. It’s not right to generalize the entire fandom as anti-Semitic, racist, disrespectful shits.

Do people realize that Germany’s character in Hetalia isn’t Nazi Germany?  In the first place the Holocaust wouldn’t be Germany’s responsibility — the depictions of these characters are meant to portray the people as a whole, not their systems of law or government. It’s stated in the series that nations MUST obey orders from their “boss” (which probably refers to the country’s ruler, president, prime minister, or other leaders at the time. Nations can’t choose what their superiors do, or what those under that control do. Saying Germany is humanized Nazi Germany is like putting that label on all German people without considering factors like time period or representation. Hetalia characters are a mere representation of each country’s people, nothing else.

How does mentioning WW2 in a comedy make it offensive? There are PLENTY of movies, novels, and other kinds of media that take place in WW2 and yet are in the comedy genre. Ever watched Jojo Rabbit? If you thought Hetalia was offensive, have you ever watched South Park or looked at CountryHumans? I do get why some people dislike Hetalia, but why does it receive so much hate for something that was never in the series (or generally speaking, for the wrong reasons)? It may have flaws, but there’s a strong definition to what those flaws actually are. It doesn’t revolve around antisemitism or Nazism. 

2. Hetalia is Racist and Stereotypes People

Now this is a pretty controversial topic. Being a comedy about personified countries, stereotypes are really something that HAS to be used at some point to make the characters funny. But does that automatically make it racist? No. I saw this on a YouTube video comment section somewhere, but stereotyping (generalizing) that all stereotypes are ‘bad’ (or have negative connotations/associations) is literally stereotyping. Not all of the stereotypes are bad. Like the way Britain acts like a gentleman or likes drinking tea, which in a way, is a British stereotype. That’s not a bad thing, just funny to see in the show — played for comedy purposes, and not necessarily offensive.

Although Hetalia characters are sometimes influenced by stereotypes that revolve around the actual countries and represent the people in general, they DO NOT always represent what those country’s people are actually like. Also, I’m pretty sure the point of comedy about personified countries is to use some of those generalizations. Specifically, stereotypes that the Japanese have about foreigners. France is portrayed as a flirty man because in Japan France is known for being a “romantic country.” But that doesn’t mean that they think all French people are like that — it’s just a lighthearted joke. And now, Hetalia characters have grown to be more of their own character rather than simply a humanized country at its base. Despite being a personification, they’re like their own person, not just used to depict stereotypes. Just because a character has a certain personality trait doesn’t mean Hima believes that everyone from that country has the same trait. It’s not meant to be racist, and isn’t. 

What I Think Was/Is Problematic

As much as I love this show, there were DEFINITELY some problematic things that people tend to ignore.

1. Korea Controversy

As a Korean American, I have to say that I was quite disappointed when I learned about how Hima portrayed Korea in the manga. I won’t go that deep into this one since it’s not that relevant to what I'm talking about now, but it was definitely a HUGE problem and I’m glad that he was removed from the series.

2. Iron Cross on Germany

The iron cross that Germany wears in Hetalia (in every time period) is a military decoration that was used since the King of Prussia until the time period of Nazi Germany in WW2. Today, it’s considered a hate symbol, similar to and alongside the swastika. To be fair, it wasn’t just a decoration used purely for the Nazis, unlike several other examples of Nazi symbols and memorabilia, so I suppose it could be up to each person to judge whether it should pass or not, despite the surrounding circumstances — it isn’t up to me as part of the fanbase. But personally, I think it should have been removed/not used in the first place. I mean, it wasn’t that necessary, seeing all of the military uniforms drawn in Hetalia were simplified anyways. Perhaps it would be much less problematic if Hima didn’t draw the iron cross, and the same goes for the other presented issues.

3. Japanese Imperialism

The way Hima portrays Japanese Imperialism was pretty offensive in my opinion. An instance is the presentation of the Japanese invasion of Korea. It wasn’t just like how the colonies were under Great Britain’s rule. It limited much more of Koreans’ rights and was much more gruesome. I don’t know about anyone else and can’t speak for each individual, but as a Korean, portraying all of this as Japan merely patting Korea on the  head is fucked up. This ties to the controversy of Korea’s character. From what I’ve seen, Hetalia is pretty close to a rightist (in Japan, not the US) series. I won’t dive too deep into that, but rightist — or in Korean, 우익 — animes are animes that glorify their country’s past/country, or  use content to make fun of or criticize other nations. Actually, it’s probably much more complicated than that, but as of now I don’t know much about it. It mostly ties to the tension between Koreans and the Japanese, so if you’re not either, there’s not really much to worry about. But (maybe because I’m Korean) I found it weird that the manga seems to give every single character a bad/negative characteristic except Japan. I guess it’s only natural, since the creator is Japanese. But then again, France was basically drawn as a rapist/pedophile, but I have never seen a French person complain about it. Or maybe they just completely avoid Hetalia? If anyone knows about it, I would be glad to listen. Perhaps it’s just a bias that I have as a Korean. It could also be a cultural difference too, since we tend to be very patriotic.

4. The Title: Axis Powers

Although the main character is Italy, and the story revolved (emphasis on the past tense) around the 3 countries that were part of the Axis, Hima should have been more considerate with the title of the show, thinking about what the Axis Powers actually did during WW2. Just “Hetalia” would have been fine. But it also should be considered that when Hima started drawing the manga, he did not expect it to become a long-term thing or for it to blow up so much. Thankfully, only the first two seasons of the anime were titled as Hetalia: Axis Powers, and later seasons were titled more acceptable things, like World Stars (manga) or The Beautiful World.

5. Seychelles

Personally I don’t find a problem with there not being that many African/South American countries in the show. Africa’s country borders (and all of that related material) were very different from what they are today, and it would be really fucking hard for Hima to keep track of all of those while still writing good characters. And unlike Europe, Africa’s history was not transcribed much, and is a lot less-known. The problem with Seychelles was her skin color, which wasn’t accurate. But that’s since been fixed.

Is Hetalia Really Problematic?

My most straightforward answer for this question would be no, it is not problematic as of now. Something I realized while listing all of the aspects of Hetalia that I personally thought were wrong to put in was that most of them don’t exist anymore. Besides Germany’s iron cross, all of them were removed from the show. Korea was banned from the anime, and he no longer appears in any of the manga strips. The manga strays further and further away from topics like Japanese Imperialism or WW2. Most of the time in the manga, countries do not wear their military uniforms anymore, but stick to more casual clothes. The characters stray further away from stereotypes that Hima used to use as a comedic effect when he first started drawing. My point is: Hima learned his mistakes. Which only makes sense, considering all of the criticism he probably received when the series first started. I think that’s a good thing. Now back to what I was ranting about earlier. I don’t get why people are saying Hetalia shouldn’t come back! The new season is most likely going to be based off the most recent Hetalia manga series, which is Hetalia World Stars. If you’ve ACTUALLY READ THE MANGA AND DIDN’T JUDGE THE ENTIRETY OF HETALIA BASED ON ITS FIRST FEW SEASONS, you would know what World Stars is about. It’s about all sorts of things. My personal favorite strips are the ones about ancient Rome! It’s not just drawn to give readers a laugh but it actually teaches you some history. Other than Rome, the manga is also about the trends of clothes in certain countries/time periods, industrial revolutions, or just the interactions between the characters in general. I really don’t see how animating these would be harmful at all. The subjects don’t revolve around what a lot of opposers say/negatively connotate the series with. If you think bringing Hetalia back is a terrible thing to do because the fandom would return and start doing toxic/weird things, I really don’t know how to respond to that. The fandom already died out around the time the last season was released. Now newer fans will come around, and the former fans would return (hopefully) matured up. It's already been 5 years since the last Hetalia season aired, after all. And like I said earlier, toxic fans never represent the entire fandom. If you really hate the fandom that much, I recommend not getting involved at all.

[staarshines]

Alderaanian Tragedy || P.D.

Warnings: Mentions of ecstasy (in the song), mention of getting drunk

Word Count: 1.8k

The story as to how you ended up in the middle of a cantina on Ajan Kloss, dancing with the love of your life, foreheads pressed together while laughing, still high from the first two kisses just a mere few hours after the war of your generation ended.

[A/N]: i said i would write it 😌 NO THIS IS NOT ANGST I PROMISE!! it’s based off of the song “greek tragedy” which’s remix went viral on tiktok lately—if you’re gonna listen to it while reading the story, please do not listen to the remix because that’s the complete opposite of the original 😭 And yes if like five of the words seem changed I did change a few lyrics to fit the universe better!!

Poe.

That was the only person you wanted to find when you landed—everyone else could wait. Rey, Finn, L’ulo, Rose—they all could wait.

The love of your life couldn’t.

Maybe it was the absolute high you were still riding from watching all those allies drop out of hyperspace. Maybe it was relief about the war you’d been fighting for for nearly half a decade finally being over. Maybe it was fear of how many blasts had barely missed your X-Wing that last battle. Or maybe, just maybe, it was just exhaustion of keeping the secret for so long. But you needed to tell him.

After all, you had no excuses now.

We’re fighting in a war.

We can’t risk being distracted.

What if something happens to one of us?

It’s not a good time.

If he doesn’t feel the same, we won’t be able to work together anymore.

No. None of that. All those “excuses” went down with the dreadnoughts on Exegol.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to even be actively looking for him, just wandering through the crowd of ecstatic rebels because you know the moment you see his eyes, you’ll be racing toward him.

And you’re damn right.

You run into his arms so hard that you knock the breath out from your own lungs—forget about his. You know he’s saying something, you just can’t hear it over the rebels’ cheers and your own sobs. It’s practically impossible to get out of his grip, but once you do, you press your forehead so hard against his that it hurts, laughing through your tears, his face cupped in your hands and vice versa—you swear to the Maker you would’ve kissed him right then and there had Rey and Finn not nearly tackled you both to the ground with a hug.

Nobody says a thing for who knows how long—the silence in between the four of you is more than enough. Once the four of you pull apart, it takes mere seconds for you all to break out in laughter after seeing the fatigue on everyone’s faces. Nevertheless, the flyboy has something else on his mind.

“We’re definitely getting drunk tonight, right?”

“I thought we were dressing cute—” you blurt out, looking at your black skater dress and Finn’s collared shirt before seeing Poe in his signature tank top-half flightsuit and Rey in one of her regular sleeveless tunics and a jacket.

“I thought we were dressing homeless…”

“I was just too tired to change out of my flightsuit.” Finn snickers and you just roll your eyes, fighting back a smile (and failing, obviously). “It doesn’t matter, really. I look hot either way.” He sends a wink your way which you hope looks like you blatantly disregarded it—because your mind certainly didn’t.

“Don’t get too cocky, Dameron.”

Making your way down to the cantina, you can’t help but let your mind wander a little because of how flirtatious Poe is being. Sure, he was always flirty little shit, but something about this was… different.

Probably just the weight of the war off his shoulders, you tell yourself.

But that couldn't be the only thing. There had to be something else.

This. This is what you hated about being a rebel—were you still a rebel if the war was over? That’s beside the point—the hope. The hope is what you hated. Rebellions were built on hope. As long as there was hope, a rebel would keep fighting. No matter how improbable or impossible, even, the situation was, a rebel wouldn’t give up on it. It’s the only reason the Rebellion won the war, really.

And you’ve told yourself more times than you can count that work’s ideology should stay in work’s life. A motto that outrageous doesn’t just transfer over to a, well, to any love life. You’ve talked yourself down in your quarters, the hangar, your X-Wing, a fucking dreadnought, and even this cantina where you’re sitting right now.

Your heart just wouldn’t listen.

“This song—hell yes!” Poe’s excited yells pull you out of your thoughts, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that Alderaanian Tragedy is playing. “C’mon flygirl, get up! Let’s dance!”

“Flygirl?” you don’t hesitate to question the nickname—not that you were complaining, no. The opposite, really. “Since when has that been my thing?”

“Since I said so.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm. I practically own the brand. I say what goes.” You nod teasingly but don’t budge, earning a groan from him. “Fine. You made me do this, then.” He grabs your hand and pulls you out of the booth with a surprised yelp from you. You reach a hand out to Finn and Rey but Finn just waves you off and Rey blows you a kiss, winking. Sighing, you decide to accept your fate, catching up to Poe so he doesn’t have to drag you through the crowd anymore.

“We’re smashing mics in karaoke bars…”

“Are you really going to pull us into the middle?” you yell over the pumping music, barely even being able to hear yourself.

“Is this your first time meeting me?”

“You’re running late with half your makeup on…”

Poe comes to a stop and grabs your other hand, beginning to sway to the music. You’re still a bit reluctant, which earns you a pout from him. Maker, not the damn pout.

“This method acting might pay our bills…”

You smile just the tiniest bit at remembering how much you loved this song—Poe’s grin when he sees that you’re having fun makes you start giggling almost uncontrollably.

“But soon enough, there’ll be a different role to fill…”

You sing along, finally starting to let yourself loosen up and have some fun, which makes Poe happier than he’s been in a long time.

“I love this feeling, but I hate this part…”

Poe sings along with you, giving you a little “Yeah!” of encouragement at the end.

“I wanted this to work so much, I drew our plans in the stars…”

You swear you see him point to you both before pointing up at the ceiling like you could see the stars—damn this dim lighting. Did you just imagine it, or did Poe really make that verse about the two of you—?

“Speeders are flipping, I’m in hot pursuit…”

He grabs your waist and twirls you into his chest—you swear your heart stops right then and there.

“My character’s strong, but my head is loose.”

He rolls his head back and sticks his tongue out at you—as stupid as it may be, you laugh. The bass of the beats start shaking the floor, and you both look at each other like you know what to do next.

“She hits like ecstasy…”

You’re jumping like crazy with your hands on Poe’s shoulders, laughing gleefully and letting your hair whip around without a care in the galaxy.

“Comes up and bangs the sense out of me…”

He’s singing along now, and as loud of the music may be, you can hear him—you’re closer and honestly? He’s louder. Like the song means something to him.

No, he’s just enjoying the night. Stop being a romantic for once.

“The tarot cards say it’s not that bad, the blades rotate there’s just no landing pad…”

Dramatically falling back with full faith that Poe will catch you—which he does—you try to stop yourself from thinking about how deep you are in your love for him. Dancing like this, it’s not… It’s not how best friends dance. There shouldn’t be this much tension, and there sure as hell shouldn’t be this much meaning.

“And better have said it, but darling you’re the best…”

You mouth the last four words—as does he—and pointedly tap his nose, as if to solidify that you were talking about him.

“I’m just tired of falling up the Penrose steps…”

He slows down a little bit and you gladly oblige, a little bit out of breath yourself as well.

“I hate this feeling, but I love this part…”

You let your arms drape over his shoulders, feeling like he was trying to tell you something. You look into his eyes but you can’t read them because of the lack of light—you swear you see a shimmer or a sparkle somewhere in there, though…

“She really wants to make it work, and I clearly want to let it start…”

One of his hands travels up your back while the other tucks a loose strand of your hair back in place—the simple motion setting off that Maker-damned fizzing feeling in your stomach again.

“We’ll build a podracer as soon as I get home…”

Your hands switch positions from over his shoulders to holding his face—were you two getting closer? You honestly couldn’t handle the suspense.

Fuck it.

“Oh and she hits like ecstasy…”

Your veins throb and you swear your heart explodes as your lips crash into his, which he gladly welcomes. He’s everywhere, up your back, your neck, your hair, and suddenly, he’s kissing you harder, deeper, with some sort of urge that you’ve never known before. It’s dizzying, because you feel the same thing—you’ve never wanted anyone like this before. Ever. In this moment, all you wanted was Poe. You want him closer, closer, closer, even though he can’t get any closer. Maybe time stopped when your lips met his.

“Comes up and bangs the sense out of me…”

You don’t want to break the kiss—in fact, you want to let it go on forever—but you need a second to think without his lips on yours.

Did you really just kiss him?

Poe Dameron?

The love of your life?

And he’d kissed you back?

“It’s wrong, but surely worse to leave…”

You’re searching his face for answers and he seems to be doing the same—that is, until, you both come to the conclusion that another kiss is probably the answer.

“She hits like ecstasy…”

It still isn’t clear whether or not you’d just dreamed this moment into real life, but there was something about the way he was gripping onto you. Something that screamed “I’m never going to let you go. I’m never going to let you go. I’m never going to let you go.” And honestly? You didn’t want him to.

“So free up the cheaper seats…”

Even though you’re too out of breath for kissing, you still need to be as close to him as possible—thus being the last detail of the story as to how you ended up in the middle of a cantina on Ajan Kloss, dancing with the love of your life, foreheads pressed together while laughing, still high from the first two kisses just a mere few hours after the war of your generation ended.

“Here comes an Alderaanian Tragedy.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @browneyedhimbo, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @poe-djarin, @marvelinsanity​, @softly-sad​, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14, @houseofthirst, @arkofblake​, @asianravenpuff​

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @propertyofdindjarin​, @coldbreadbouquetworld​, @melvls​, @thedevilwearsbeskar, @agentshortstacc​

Poe Dameron: @poe-damnnn-eron​, @lapilark​, @peterhollandkait​, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​, @twomoonstwosuns​, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust​, @legamelo​, @xremember-me-notx​, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby​, @yourbucky084​, @agents-assemble​, @daydreamerinadazedworld​, @darthadeline​, @roserrys​, @fandom-addict-aesthetics​

Story Tag: @permanentmess​