#mysterious lady with water powers

[amazingwriter101]

🎀Random Astrology Notes🎀

Hiii! It's been so long since the last time I posted (I was so busy at uni) I hope everyone is doing fine! 💙 Here's my random astro notes/observation 💋

🎀 Venus in Aquarius are likely attracted to someone who is intellectually stimulating, unconventional, and values independence. This placement desires a partner who embraces uniqueness, is open-minded, and engages in deep, thoughtful conversations. So someone who respects personal freedom and enjoys exploring new ideas will appeal to this placement.

🎀 Someone with Juno in Sagittarius seeks a lifelong/long-term partner who is adventurous, optimistic, and growth-oriented. Someone who shares a passion for travel, learning, and expanding horizons would be ideal. They value truth, honesty, freedom,and a relationship filled with excitement and exploration.

🎀 People with Water Rising + Earth Sun (especially Scorpio Risings) can leave a strong first impression. They will most likely come across as someone who is intense, ambitious, and confident with a hint of rebelliousness. Their aura feels like a combination of mystery, authority, charisma, and boldness.

🎀 Moon in Virgo is probably the perfectionist of the zodiac who can't relax until everything is labeled, organized, and sanitized. Your idea of emotional security? A perfectly curated to-do list and color-coded spreadsheets for feelings and activities. One of the best people to give constructive criticism (unless you're very sensitive, believe me their words can hurt even tho most of the time they don't mean to hurt you.) They see emotions are just puzzles waiting to be solved.

🎀 Leo Moon + Scorpio Rising = walking contradiction. Their duality is wild. Enigmatic, mysterious, private mask with the scorpio rising while the leo moon screams for applause, admiration and center of attention. it's like "Hey, notice me but don't make it obvious." "look but don't touch." such a power play.

🎀 Venus in Pisces is the hopeless romantic that probably see red flags as a beautiful shade of crimson and admire it. Stop saying you can fix someone, you can't! Please stop falling for potentials and trying to save individuals who doesn't even want to be saved. Forget the "Love is sacrifice", you're not their therapist, and martyrdom isn't sexy.

🎀 Venus in Leo folks love to make an entrance—they’re like DIVA of relationships. They expect their partners to shower them with attention, affection, and maybe a red carpet once in a while. If they’re not getting enough adoration, they might just start singing “Single Ladies” to themselves.

🎀 Moon in Aquarius person feels more at home in a group chat about physics than on a cozy night in with a romantic partner. They’re super into ideas, innovation, and making a difference—but don't ask them to express their feelings too much. You might get a "let's analyze this emotionally" instead of a hug. Might not work with someone who wants a lovey-dovey affectionate relationship.

🎀 Saturn in Taurus is the person who buys the most reliable, sturdy chair at the furniture store... and then waits 20 years to get a new one because "it’s perfectly fine." They have an unshakable commitment to stability and material comfort, but they might be a little too attached to their "favorite" blanket—don’t even think about touching it.

🎀 Venus Conjunct Mars in natal chart is like the romantic-comedy genre. The chemistry is palpable, and there’s a lot of flirtation, passion, and energy flying around. They’re the kind of person who can turn a quick coffee date into a whirlwind romance—and probably end up with matching tattoos by the end of the week.

🎀 Venus in Aquarius is the quirky, "I’m not like other people" type of lover. They’re attracted to what’s unique, eccentric, or revolutionary. Their idea of a perfect date might involve a debate about the future of technology or attending an avant-garde art exhibit. Forget the traditional romantic gestures—they’d rather build a robot together.

🎀 Venus in Taurus is the ultimate “Netflix and chill” person—literally. If you know the tiktoker that lives the fancy life, eating steak, travelling and enjoying? That's a good definition of Taurus and their ideal life. They value comfort, stability, and all the luxuries of life, especially good food and soft blankets. They’ll adore you with cuddles, gifts, and the finest chocolate—because who wouldn’t want to spoil their lover with cozy indulgences? But if you try to rush them, you might find yourself in a battle of wills. They prefer slow, steady love that’s built to last… with a side of gourmet snacks.

🎀 Venus in Cancer is a cuddly, emotional romantic 🦀 who wants to build a cozy home with their partner—and maybe a family of cats while they’re at it. They’re deeply sentimental and love making their loved ones feel cared for with homemade meals and personalized gestures. If you can make them feel safe, you’ll have their heart forever. Just don’t mess with their emotional boundaries, because they’re like a fortress when it comes to protecting their feelings.

🎀 Venus in Aries is like the spark that lights the fire of romance. They fall fast and love fiercely, but their attention span can be as short as a Snapchat story. The thrill of the chase is their thing—so, if you're playing hard to get, you're already ahead of the game. Once they're in a relationship, expect passionate moments, spontaneous adventures, and lots of energy.

🎀 Mars in Taurus is like the bulldozer of the zodiac—slow and steady, but extremely determined. They have an impressive amount of stamina and will stick with a task until it’s done right. Unlike the fiery Aries, Taurus likes to take their time and get things done with quality. Want them to rush? Good luck! They’ll just give you the side-eye and continue on at their own pace. But if you need someone reliable who’s not going to give up, this is your person.

🎀 Mars in Virgo is like a military general with a perfectly organized schedule. These folks are action-oriented, but they’re not impulsive—they want to make sure that every detail is sorted before they go charging ahead. They’re fantastic at problem-solving, and they approach challenges with a calm, methodical attitude. They’re not about drama—they’re about efficiency. But be warned: they might become slightly perfectionistic and a little too focused on the fine print, which could slow things down.

[deebris]

Between us

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: This would be the first night you and Bruce would spend together as father and daughter, something you had been eagerly looking forward to. Everything seemed peaceful during dinner until the main singer of the restaurant, Bruce's ex-girlfriend from many years ago, decided to show up and stir things up.

Warnings: Mentions cheating, discrimination agaisnt people with physical disabilities (not from Bruce, not from you), a bit of angst, fluff at the end.

Word count: 5.2k

Note: This is part of The Mysterious Visitor universe, but for those who haven’t read it: the reader is Damian’s twin (though there are no physical descriptions of her), and Talia kept it a secret from Bruce even after her son became Robin. The reader began living with the Batfamily at the age of 13.

You smiled as you reached the last step of the staircase and heard the melody of Dream a little dream of me being played. This restaurant wasn’t very different from those you used to visit with your mother, but it was still different in many ways. It was a large hall, full of yellow lights and whispers from the various conversations happening simultaneously, but what caught your attention most was the singer. Her voice was powerful, yet as soft as a feather. Her arms moved gracefully, as if she knew precisely where to guide them.

Today, it was just you and Bruce, but you had barely entered the place before several men in fine suits began greeting him and making jokes, most of which you didn’t understand. Your smaller figure went unnoticed, and you made no effort for this, staying in your personal silence while you admired the chandeliers and walls with wide eyes. The place wasn’t discreet and was obviously very expensive.

You liked observing people. Many beautiful young women were laughing, but what drew your attention were the unique hairstyles and dresses each of them wore. As Bruce tried to follow the waiter to your table, someone would rise from their own seat every few seconds to talk to him. Yet despite all the handshakes, he never let go of your hand. Until an older lady noticed the little girl Bruce Wayne had brought along:

“And who is this young lady, Bruce?” she asked with a warm smile, and you finally stopped looking around to focus on the people your father was conversing with.

“This is my daughter, Ophelia,” he said, calling the woman by her first name with familiarity. Bruce had a certain affection for her, as she had been a friend of his mother when she was alive.

“Oh! Martha would have been so happy to see the two of you.” She placed a hand on her chest and gently stroked your chin. “And where have you been hiding her?”

“She lived with her mother, but she’s staying with me now,” Bruce replied, beaming at the lady, who excitedly called her husband and son, likely around your father’s age, to come greet you. They were among the few people you truly enjoyed meeting.

It didn’t take long for you two to finally reach your table. Bruce pulled out a chair for you to sit, then took his own. The waiter immediately poured wine for him, while your glass remained filled only with water.

“Do you like the music?” he suddenly asked, noticing how you were staring at the musicians.

“I do,” you said, starting to fiddle with the napkins. “I tried playing the flute once,” you mentioned, and Bruce loved when you initiated conversations without realizing it. It made it easier for him to learn more about you, and in a way, it was an endearing trait of your personality.

“Tried? Why did you give up?” He kept the conversation going, relaxed in his chair and entirely focused on every small expression you made.

“I didn’t have enough breath to blow,” you snapped your lips in frustration, remembering how disappointing it was not to be able to play. Your father wanted to laugh internally but did everything to hold it back, knowing it would irritate you. “Do you play anything?”

“I used to play piano, but I’ve had no time, and I barely remember the last time I touched one,” he squinted as he spoke, and you felt sad seeing how much he seemed to miss the instrument.

“Why is there a woman in costume over there?” you asked suddenly, changing the subject entirely, and your father had to turn his head to see whom you were talking about. There was a woman in flamboyant clothes and a white wig talking to a man Bruce recognized as the owner of the establishment.

“She’s the opera singer who used to perform here when it was still a theater.” He got comfortable in his seat again and opened the menu. “She only goes on stage at 10. If you want, we can stay and watch her later.”

“This used to be a theater?” you perked up, scanning the room again, trying to imagine how it must have looked years ago, without all these tables and with an audience facing the stage. Bruce smiled internally, having caught on that your curiosity had been piqued.

“When the old owner died, his son decided to turn the place into a restaurant,” he glanced briefly at you and noticed how you were expecting him to say more. “The boy didn’t live in the city, and when he came back, he thought the business was too archaic. But he decided to keep some of the staff as a tradition.”

“I wish I could have watched a play here,” you said, frustrated, resting your head between your hands. Bruce thought about telling you to take your arms off the table but dismissed the idea.

“You’ve never seen one?” He turned to the next page, evaluating the meals.

“No… Only on TV,” you replied, poking at the edge of the other menu the waiter had left for you but not bothering to open it.

“We can go one day. I’ll take you,” he said after finally deciding what to order, but before calling the waiter, he looked at you curiously. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment. “Can you choose for me?” you asked with pleading eyes.

Bruce frowned. He opened his mouth to understand but closed it immediately. He had noticed details about your behavior like this in recent weeks—small, seemingly insignificant things that still managed to catch him by surprise. It was normal for children your age to choose what they wanted to eat, but it seemed Talia had been very strict about your diet. Alfred prepared your meals, and Bruce couldn’t recall you refusing any of them. Fortunately, you seemed easygoing in this aspect.

“Are you sure you don’t want to choose? Something savory instead of sweet?” he suggested, and you thought for a moment but nodded. Bruce knew about your fondness for sweets, which made him sometimes push you to avoid them.

Bruce raised his hand to call the waiter, but suddenly a high-pitched female voice approached from behind. Neither of you had noticed when the singer had finished her song, stepping away from the microphone while the band played without vocals, heading toward your table.

“Bruce Wayne!” she called out excitedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Your father looked at her, not expecting her to come over, barely noticing the man accompanying her until he also started speaking, though more loudly than her.

“Miss Conti,” Bruce muttered her name uncomfortably. “Mr. Williams,” he acknowledged the restaurant’s owner. After Williams took over the place following his father’s death, Conti was hired as the main attraction. The two had a public affair, something socially frowned upon, but for some reason, the man’s wife tolerated the scandal.

“Mr. Wayne, I needed to talk to you. Are you enjoying the evening?” Williams attempted to start, but he was interrupted:

“Oh, come on, Bruce. You know you can call me Cecilia,” the woman chimed in, rubbing your father’s shoulder with her thumb before removing her hand completely and then noticing you sitting next to him. She opened an even bigger smile, though her eyes didn’t follow suit, widening with curiosity. “And who’s this lovely girl here?”

Bruce let out a small laugh, happy to mention you. “This is my daughter.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter. How’s Richard doing? Still as confident as when he was a boy? God, he must be a grown man by now.” She made comment after comment but didn’t give Bruce a chance to respond before she started speaking again: “Oh, but you’re such a cute little thing.” She approached your chair, cautiously analyzing your face, running her fingers over your earlobe and then sliding them along your jaw. You had no other reaction but to thank her, feeling uncomfortable with her touch and very confused about who they were.

“You’re very beautiful too, Miss,” you said sincerely. The woman before you was truly stunning. Her blonde hair was impeccably styled in an elegant bun, and her makeup remained flawless, without a smudge. She wore an orange dress adorned with small sparkling stones that glimmered under the lights. Your teenage eyes were captivated by her appearance. She didn’t seem to be more than 40 years old.

“Oh, hearing her speak makes her even more adorable,” she gestured in the air as if wanting to pinch your cheeks, softening her voice the way people often do when talking to pets.

“A really lovely young lady, if I may say so,” Williams added with an awkward smile as he pulled a chair from another table to sit. You looked at Bruce, confused, thinking it would just be the two of you. The woman did the same but, instead of fetching one herself, asked a random man in a staff uniform to bring her one. “Remember what we were discussing at the city library’s grand opening, Wayne?”

“George, forget business for a second. Let’s have some fun,” Cecilia cut him off. “Where did you two come from?” she asked you both.

“We were at the auction,” your father answered, tense at their lack of social grace. If you hadn’t been there, Bruce wouldn’t have hesitated to be rude and tell them to get lost, but in front of his children, he tried to keep that side of him in check.

“Oh! The one the opposing candidate, DuPont, organized?” she added a malicious tone to her voice, as if implying something. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you supporting one of your biggest competitors in Gotham’s mayoral race, Bruce.”

“We’re competitors, not enemies,” he tried to respond lightly. “Besides, I don’t see why we couldn’t end up collaborating.”

"You should have declared support for the current mayor. The citizens of Gotham tend to reelect the same names, as you well know. Carnegie will win again," the other man interrupted. Bruce, impatient, clenched his fists under the table, frustrated with the direction the conversation had taken. He had hoped for a quiet dinner alone with you to get to know you better, but it seemed he had chosen the wrong place.

"Mr. Williams, no offense intended, my only reason for being here is to have dinner with my daughter. Please, let’s put politics aside for tonight." He wished he could ask both of them to leave, but suddenly, Cecilia started talking to you. Bruce, visibly irritated, called the waiter, wanting to finish the meal as quickly as possible so he could leave. After placing his order, he turned to you and asked, "Carbonara?" Seeing you nod, he ordered that too.

"I'll go for an arugula salad with truffles," Cecilia said, her smile becoming increasingly irritating, seemingly oblivious to Bruce's displeasure.

"For me, a lobster ravioli with lemon foam and caviar," Williams added, just to be included, and you grimaced at the thought of caviar.

"What did you think of the auction? Did your father buy something special for you?" Cecilia turned to you at the table, with a noticeable interest in getting your attention.

"It was interesting, Miss Conti," you replied simply, using the surname you remembered your father mentioning.

"Oh, dear..." Cecilia said in a falsely disheartened tone. "Bruce drags you to these boring events? Girls your age usually prefer to go to the movies or something like that."

"I like movies," you said, irritated, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "And I enjoyed the auction. There were some very beautiful paintings there."

"Argh, I hope you’re not talking about those by Isabela Zaragoza." She picked up a wine glass the waiter had served a few minutes earlier and drank. "She can only sell her works at charity auctions." She let out a sarcastic laugh, and Mr. Williams joined in.

You looked at Bruce for a response, but all you saw was a hard look. Your father was hardly looking at any of you, breathing deeply with impatience. You didn’t like what they were doing; it seemed cruel, even though you had no idea who Isabela Zaragoza was.

"Oh, Bruce. You know it's true." She rolled her eyes, and it was clear that Cecilia was the dominant one in the duo, always very talkative and starting conversations. "In all of Gotham City, the only one who buys her art is your father. It must be out of pity; someone who paints with their feet probably won't get very far in their career."

You were shocked by what she said. It was something so unexpected to hear that you froze in place completely. It was absurdly cruel, and seeing your wide eyes, along with Bruce's furious expression, made Williams, who had been laughing with her earlier, become nervous.

"Cecilia!" He whispered her name sharply. "She was just joking. Zaragoza is a fantastic artist." He tried to ease the tense atmosphere, sweating coldly.

"I must say she paints better with her feet than you sing with your mouth, Miss Conti." Bruce suddenly replied in a dangerously low voice, and it seemed to hit a nerve with her, as the calluses that were forming in her voice knocked her confidence. He knew he was wrong to try to humiliate her back; it wasn’t a mature move, especially since he didn’t want you to take that as an example.

You let out a quiet laugh at that but immediately stopped when Bruce looked at you. He had a soft sadness, not of disappointment, but of concern. He regretted his own behavior and knew he would need to talk to you about what Cecilia and he had said later. The woman in question tried to laugh with you at first but miserably failed. It was obvious that Bruce had wounded her ego.

"When we were dating, you praised my voice a lot, Bruce." She suddenly mentioned, and you looked at him in surprise. You hadn’t noticed how your father had almost frozen in place before asking:

"You and my dad used to date?" Your voice carried genuine curiosity, and Mr. Williams beside you seemed uncomfortable with the topic.

"Yes, dear." She looked at you, then turned her face to Bruce mockingly. In the background, you could hear your father clearing his throat, trying to draw your attention away from the subject, but he couldn’t. "It's been many years. It was fun for a few months, that is until Robert found out, of course." She laughed a little too loudly for the setting, taking another sip from her glass.

"Who is Robert?" You asked, your voice dropping, your playful smile now gone due to the strangeness of the conversation.

"Oh, he was my husband." She said it as if it were nothing, and Bruce suddenly stood up from the table, moving to his seat and pulling you to leave. His expression had crumpled like paper as he stood up automatically, still processing what she had said.

"Let’s go." Bruce told you, embarrassed but trying to mask it with an expression of fury.

"But the dishes haven’t even arrived yet, Bruce." Cecilia melodramatically added, placing a hand on his arm, a silent request to stay.

"We're leaving." He repeated more firmly, pulling you by the shoulders away from her. Bruce leaned a bit over the table to face her head-on, and with harshness, he unleashed his anger on her: "I know what you're trying to do, you viper, and you will regret this. Never dare to approach me or her again."

"Did I say something wrong?" She spoke cynically, finally showing an expression that matched her feelings for him: disdain.

"Wayne, we can resolve this." William stood up from the chair, visibly shaken. The meticulous plan he had been crafting for months was crumbling before his eyes. Bruce's funding was the key to expanding the restaurant, and Cecilia had ruined everything. "I'm sure we can forget this incident if Ceci apologizes."

Bruce felt the tension rise in his body, the throb of a vein in his forehead, while the heat of irritation burned under his skin. "Do you think I’m going to accept something like that? In front of my daughter?" He spat the words, struggling to maintain his composure. His fists were clenched, ready for a blow that never came. It was only when you gently tugged on his arm that he made the decision to leave. As you walked out, William's frustrated shouts echoed through the hall, his anger directed at the blonde woman, who was furious at being dismissed immediately.

Bruce's frustration was palpable. The last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as inconvenient as Cecilia, especially in your presence. The shadow of his reckless past still hung over him, an open wound. Women like her were living reminders of the regrets that haunted him, of thoughtless choices he would do anything to change.

Near the exit, you spotted the opera singer again, and the memory of what your father had promised you tugged at your heart. "Aren't we going to stay to hear the opera lady?" your voice carried a twinge of sadness.

Bruce sighed, his fingers gently squeezing your shoulders, but the discomfort was evident on his face. "Sorry, I know you wanted that." The weight of the situation was palpable, and he couldn’t help but imagine what you were thinking about him now.

The chauffeur, caught off guard by the rush, quickly opened the door. Bruce, however, did not wait. He let you enter first, slamming the door shut as soon as he settled in. Inside the car, he exhaled the air he hadn’t realized he was holding, diverting his gaze to you. His focus was on the scenery, his face too serene, but he noticed how you were biting your nails—a small sign of nervousness.

He swallowed hard. What a terrible way to end the evening, right next to you. The silence hung heavy in the air, and he feared asking what was going through your mind. Who would have thought? Bruce Wayne, afraid of the words of a child.

For a moment, he watched you press your cheek against the glass, your eyes wandering over the city lights.

"S/n," he called your name, his voice hoarse. You murmured in response, waiting for him to continue. Bruce opened his mouth, but the words got lost along the way. His expression hardened, and he turned to the window as well, the silence remaining until you arrived at the mansion. And you, very focused on observing the movement of the streets, didn’t mind.

When you arrived at the entrance, Alfred was already there, helping you take off your thick coat at that very moment. The butler was surprised at how quickly the two of you returned. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take long because of you, needing to sleep early, but he hadn’t expected it to be at this hour.

"Master Bruce, Miss Y/n. Did something happen?" He asked, noticing your silence. For Bruce, this was a common demeanor, but whenever your went out, you returned home commenting on every tiny detail of everything you saw.

"Boring people." You replied with a grimace, using that false tone of indifference that Alfred knew how to identify very well.

"Boring people?" He returned rhetorically while glancing at Bruce, who silently took off his own coat and exited the room without saying goodbye to either of you. He had certainly overheard the brief conversation but was ignoring you two. "There are always a few." The older man said with a smile at you.

“I don’t like going to places with a lot of people; it’s annoying having to give everyone an explanation. But it was nice to go out with Bruce.” You started voicing your thoughts aloud, and Alfred knew you wouldn’t hold back in front of him.

Sometimes he felt like you treated him as a sort of confidant, a diary, but then he realized you didn’t make an effort to hide anything from anyone in particular, except for extremely specific things. Another clear sign of Talia. She must have raised you to be like this, as no other girl your age would likely be so open.

“Did you have fun with him?” The butler continued encouraging you.

“Yes!” You became animated again, just as you had on other occasions. It seemed like all you needed was a little push to break the ice. “He let me place bids at the auction. I even competed with someone.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes!” You repeated the exasperated expression. “In the end, I almost didn’t place a final bid because the money got really high, but Bruce said to keep going.”

“And what did you get?” Alfred asked, guiding you to the kitchen. At some point, you would ask for his hot chocolate, so he preferred to get ahead of it.

“It was a compass from the colonial era.” You followed him and sat in the middle chair at the counter, one of the seats in front of the stove, since watching the butler cook had become one of your hobbies. It happened so often that everyone knew that chair was yours, and only you sat in it. “The money went to the children from the orphanage, so Bruce said I could.”

“Well done.” He replied, very focused on something but still paying attention to every word you said. Just then, Jason entered the kitchen, surprised to see you there, just like Alfred.

“You got back early.” He commented, recognizing the situation, raising his eyebrows at the butler, who gave him a keen look as he watched him head for the fridge. “What happened?” The boy asked, lacking any real interest.

“Bruce argued with a couple at the restaurant after the auction.” You said, resting your head on the counter, and Alfred could feel his ears itching. He had finally arrived at the point he wanted. “I saw a motorcycle like yours when we were coming back.” You added for your brother.

“Bruce argued at the restaurant?” Jason questioned you, ignoring your last sentence, not out of malice, but because he didn’t expect the animated man who had left home earlier to come back with such news.

“It wasn’t really a fight.” You tried to correct yourself, feeling guilty for revealing this since neither of them seemed very happy. “He just ended up discussing.”

Alfred extended an arm toward Jason as if asking for permission to interject in the matter. “Miss Y/n, who did Master Bruce argue with?”

You worried you were saying too much and might upset Bruce later because of it, but the way things happened, you knew the people at the tables around must have seen the scene, even if they didn’t know the context. Sooner or later, they would know who the parties involved were.

“A man named... Williams I think.” You whispered, looking at a random point as you tried to remember his name, losing Jason’s incredulous expression as he recognized the name of the place’s owner. “And a woman named Cecilia Conti.” The last name made Alfred nod silently, as he remembered the woman well.

“What did those two do to annoy him?” Jason dared to ask, looking at the butler with curiosity. The man was good at hiding feelings, but he sensed that Alfred knew very well the last person. The name wasn’t strange, but still, it wasn’t someone Jason recalled being mentioned with any importance.

The delay in hearing your answer made the two of them stare at you again in confusion. You pulled your hands from the counter and joined them in your lap, never meeting their gazes. It was an uncomfortable situation for you, and unfortunately very disappointing, but you knew Bruce wouldn’t want you to go around sharing this. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want anyone to know either. It wasn’t something that should be simply said.

“I don’t know.” You whispered again, looking up to see if they believed you. Obviously, neither of them did, but Jason was clever and changed the subject.

“So you saw a motorcycle like mine, huh?” He moved closer to you, holding a bottle of tonic water he had taken from the fridge. “Which one was it?”

“I don’t understand motorcycles.” You replied with a discouraged huff.

Jason glanced at Alfred and noticed that he was watching you both the whole time. Knowing him well, Jason realized that Alfred would go after Bruce to understand the story since you obviously didn’t want to tell.

“I was going to take a look at the exhaust on mine. Want to come with me?” He asked, remembering how you enjoyed learning a bit more about how the systems worked when he showed you last week. “I’ll let you get your hands dirty this time.”

“Are you serious?” You asked excitedly, smiling when you saw him shrug, but you quickly widened your eyes as you remembered something: “I can’t, I need to sleep. First day of school.”

Your statement made Jason check his wristwatch, looking at the time. He looked at you as if feeling sorry, saying, “Good luck, squirt.” And he headed to the garage of the Batcave, from which you suspected he had just come.

Alfred was happy that Jason was bonding with you. Knowing the boy's genius, the older man thought he would resist developing some kind of relationship, very different from Dick. But apparently, your nature pleased him since he didn’t shy away from spending time in your presence, like now.

Before midnight, you had already washed your hair and were trying to dry it with a hairdryer, but it was a bit difficult to stretch your arm back. You were clumsy, and usually, your mother did that for you, but after a few minutes, you managed. The problem was that everything got messy, and you wanted to sleep so you wouldn’t be tired the next day, but you had to detangle it or it would be worse. You must have been very focused while trying to fix your hair because you didn’t even notice your father opening the door.

“You’ve got everything ready.” Bruce said, analyzing the clothes on your sofa, with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, having only taken off his jacket. “Excited for the first day of school?” He asked you with a strange tone.

“I think I’m more nervous.” Your response came with a furrowed brow, wondering what the day would be like. You had never been to school before, and it seemed Damian and Tim were really good there, so you felt a bit pressured to at least try not to embarrass them with poor performance.

“I still remember how it was for me.” He continued, watching your uniform with a melancholic gaze, reliving some old memory. Bruce liked how well ironed everything was, and it made him proud to know that you did it all by yourself. “You’ll do fine, trust me. A girl like you won’t have many problems making friends or getting good grades.”

“Alfred helped me choose the shoes.” You pulled out a pair of low-heeled white dress shoes to show him. They were delicate and would certainly stand out against the uniform. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are.” Bruce smiled, looking more at you than at the shoes themselves. “Have you eaten?” He asked, concerned.

You grimaced and took a moment to respond, letting out a hesitant “Yes.”

“Did you really eat?” He gave you a disapproving look, not convinced.

“Hot chocolate.” You let out the answer you knew he didn’t want to hear. You ate a bit of everything, including healthy stuff, but your sweet tooth was hard to control.

“You have to eat something besides sweets before bed.” He said, trying not to give in to the remorseful look you gave him. But the feeling of guilt hit him, knowing he should have ensured you had dinner at the restaurant.

“But I already brushed my teeth.” Your mumble made him sigh, searching for words to bring up a topic he wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Sorry... For what happened there.” He took his hands out of his pockets and sat on the bed, extending his arm for you to come to him. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.” His voice was in an unnatural tone, firm and grave, but your silence notably bothered him.

“S/n.” He called your name, seeing your face look up to meet his. “You can be angry. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Why should I be angry?” Your question was innocent. Although it was disappointing, you didn’t feel angry at him. Besides, before you got to know him for real, Bruce Wayne was already a famous figure. His personal life was constantly in the newspapers.

“I want you to know that back then I was young and stupid.” He ran his hand along your arm as if wanting to offer some kind of comfort. The realization that you could have changed your opinion about him was killing him since you two left there, and he worried about doing something wrong concerning you, as Bruce wanted your trust, and he knew Talia wouldn’t let any mistake slip by before coming back and throwing it in his face. “I’ve changed. Do you understand me?”

“So you wouldn’t do that again?” You asked calmly, and that relieved him.

“No, never again. That was the first and last time.” He placed the hand that was on your arm to gently caress your cheek, suddenly remembering the time. He couldn’t take much more of your time. “There’s something more important I want to talk to you about as well. What Conti said about Miss Zaragoza…”

“It was wrong,” you quickly added, noticing how conflicted he seemed about what had happened.

“And what I said after…” Bruce continued, trying to find the right way to say it, but you spoke up again:

“That was wrong too.” Your soft voice sounded in understanding.

“Smart girl.” He smiled slightly, placing his hand on top of your head. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” you asked, rubbing your sleepy eyes.

“Can you not mention Miss Conti to Dick?” Bruce continued looking at you attentively, noticing the silly expression on your face. He felt genuinely grateful to see that the incident hadn’t affected your mood towards him. “Your brother doesn’t like her either.” Bruce gave you a light pinch on your side, which made you laugh.

“Alright!” you murmured as you got up, now excited thinking about the day ahead. “No telling Dick.” You emphasized, already pulling the covers up to lie down.

Bruce had also stood up, going to the switch to turn off the light when your voice sounded again: “Can you take me to school tomorrow? Just to the entrance.”

“I will,” he replied calmly. “And no more sweets for the rest of the week. I won’t go easy on you.” Bruce said finally, turning off the switch and carefully closing your bedroom door.

Tag list:

@aenishas

[novelistwriter]

The Family of Halfa's

DP x DC Prompt (With other Fandoms, this prompt was inspired by "Wished Away Series")

Danny and Wes had been together for a while. Wes was, at first, not considered part of his friend group, but as time went on, Wes integrated himself as part of Team Phantom.

Now that Wes was a full ghost, and the Consort to Danny, as he is the Ghost King, Clockwork had decided that the Halfa and his Consort are the perfect option to raise the souls of those the Time Ghost takes pity on as new Halfa's with a new start, meaning these souls don't have the memories of their past lives, but powers and such related to their previous lives.

The oldest of the reborn souls they got was a boy named Adrian Agreste, but not any Adrian, the Cat Blanc Adrian, who was plucked from his timeline before it was erased and offered a second chance at life. His power is still destruction, but only when he is feeling intense negative emotions.

The second oldest, who came a few years after Adrian, was named Callum, a boy who died at the hands of the Sunfire Elves before help had arrived. He doesn't have any unique powers but is adept at the Arcane Arts than any (fully) living person.

A few months later, another soul was given to them. His name was Eli Shane, and he perished in the Eastern Caverns during the battle with the Emperor. Eli's powers allow him to access 5 elements, with him limited to one until he switches to another, Fire, Air, Earth, Water, and Energy. And because of Junjie, Eli's other Ghost Power allows him to learn any martial arts much quicker than any being.

After a year, another soul was given to them, one of a courageous young man named Link who stopped a Demon King but suffered too many injuries to be saved. His power is time related, but not too powerful. If he dodges an attack at the last second, he is able to move faster than anyone to attack his opponent for a short duration.

2 more years later, two souls were given to Danny and Wes, Keith and Lance, who perished at the hands of a mysterious foe while giving their team time to escape. Their powers are similar yet different at the same time. They both can summon spectral lions, but Keith's is red and has fire powers, while Lance's are blue and have water related powers.

Finally, 3 years later, Danny and Wes are given 5 souls of kids, kids who died participating in a war to stop a bad guy. Aang died fighting Ozai. Zuko and Katara died in the Agni kai against Azula. Toph and Sokka died when the Airship they were on crashed in the sea before Suki could arrive on time. Aang has air and animal related powers, Katara has water and ice powers, Zuko has fire and electricity powers, and Toph has earth and metal powers, Sokka doesn't have any unique powers, but is a natural leader and adept at learning how to use any type of weapon.

After the Quintuplets were reborn from Danny, the rest of the souls were as well, as Danny needed to host their cores to have them reborn as Halfa's, Danny and Wes thought that they needed to live in a dimension, and not the Keep Danny inherited, as Danny and the reborn Halfa's need to eat regular food as well ad needing Ectoplasm, and so the kids could interact with other living people and not just the Ghosts in the Infinite Realms. So they chose a random dimension with a lot of Heroes to live in, with Clockwork giving Wes a new body to be a Halfa himself.

And now the family made of all Halfa's is living in a place called Gotham, a Gothic City with enough ambient ectoplasm as Amity, but they had caught the attention of the Vigilantes of the City, as the entire family are Alternates to the people of the dimension.

Danny is an alternate younger Jason Todd, but not as Buff. Wes is an alternate younger Roy Harper, also not as buff. Adrian is an alternate Dinah Lance. Callum is an alternate and younger Hal Jordan. Eli is an alternate Lady Shiva. Link is an alternate and younger Barry Allen. Keith is an alternate Jon Kent. Lance is an alternate Damian Wayne. Aang is an alternate and younger Bruce Wayne. Katara and Sokka are alternates to Dick Grayson. Toph is an alternate and younger Cassandra Cain. Finally, Zuko is an alternate and younger Tim Drake.

[guzhufuren]

New posters, message, part of a soundtrack and information about upcoming chinese BL The General's Son, show from the director of Word of Honor

"Green mountains are hidden in the distance, the waters are far away, the bright moon is always shining, the world is full of happiness."

Genres: wuxia; revenge Number of episodes: 24 Episode runtime: 18 minutes

Lead actors: Li Kaiwen as Li Jianwei; Dong Zifan as Chen Xiaoxi

Director and executive producer: Ma Huagan (Word of Honor, The Legend of Anle, Sword Dynasty) Art director: Liu Jingping (Love and Redemption, A Dream of Splendor, Wonderland of Love) Screenwriter and chief producer: Zhou Shucheng Executive producers: Zhuo Zuoqing, Yang Qi Co-producers: Jiang Yuxin, Li Shike, Dong Xinyu Co-director: Wang Xue Producers: Jiang Zhengpeng, Liu Wei, Xu Heni Planning by: Luo Yuting, Luo Gaoqiang

Filming finished this June. Will not be broadcast in mainland China. Original script.

Synopsis: General Li's family were killed on New Year's Eve. Li Jianwei, the youngest son of the Li family, escaped death, but disguised himself as a courtesan and went to Wei Mountain to seek revenge. Chen Xiaoxi, the young master of Guigu, has a lively and eccentric personality, becomes increasingly close to Li Jianwei, who has tried his best to win him over. Chen Xiaoxi's sister, Xiao Hetao, is simple and kind. She discovers that Li Jianwei came for revenge, and dies to resolve the hatred between the two.

Characters:

Li Jianwei. Twenty years old, the youngest son of General Li Fei, he is loved by the whole family, standing like an orchid and a jade tree, smiling like the bright moon. He should have had a bright future, but his fate changed overnight. In order to get revenge, he went undercover to Weishan, enduring humiliation and patiently executing his plan step by step.

Chen Xiaoxi. At the age of twenty, we meet the young master of Weishan Guigu. He was born pure but had evil eyes. Under his lively and sunny appearance, his face looked like that of a devil's. In fact, he was rough but kind, and treated people with sincerity. Unfortunately, fate played a cruel joke on him and his mother died.

Xiao Hetao. At the age of seventeen, Chen Xiaoxi rescued a human child from a wolf pack. Innocent and romantic, she was very simple and naive. Gui Rong and others gave Xiao Hetao the purest and most innocent living environment, but she hoped to resolve the hatred of everyone with her own power.

Princess Qingyuan. Thirty-four years old, a graceful and elegant lady, smart and tenacious. She was in love with Chen Dawang when she was young. After Chen Dawang's death, she firmly refused marriage arranged by the magistrate's office and spent many years in Zhejiang. While helping Li Jianwei to take revenge, Qingyuan, the deputy envoy of the Chang'an Supervisor Zi Ke, has been trying to find out the truth about Jian Jishan from 20 years ago.

Chen Dawang. At the age of 38, we meet the leader of Guigu in Huishan. Twenty years ago, he was a major general in the Loyal and Brave Army led by Chen Weishan. Entrusted by the general, Chen Dawang and his party lived in seclusion in Guigu for twenty years, just to avenge the Loyal and Brave Army and reveal the truth to the world one day.

Sizhou. 24 years old, a descendant of the Loyal and Brave Army, he was a martial arts expert but became blind in two days. Because he was indebted to the Lord of Qingyuan, he stayed by his side and waited for investigation. While helping Li Jianwei to get his revenge, he also hoped to find out the truth of the old case of the Loyal and Brave Army from 20 years ago.

Wan Qianhong. Thirty-eight years old, owner of Baihua Villa, with mysterious martial arts and deceitful tricks. When she was young, she fell in love with Li Pu, who concealed his identity. Later, Li Xifei and Huang Jueda broke off all ties with Wan Qianhong. Since then, Wan Qianhong deeply hated Li Pu and all men in the world. Behind the hatred, Wan Qianhong missed her daughter so much that she mistakenly recognized Xiao Hetao as Zaotian's daughter. In the end, they ended up loving each other but not being able to be together.

Shi Tou. Eighteen years old, a good martial brother of Chen Xiaoxi, grew up in Jianweishan. He is the beloved son of Uncle Hua and Aunt Hua, with a simple and straightforward personality. He was happy and naive until Xiaohe died. The joy he did not even have time to express became the biggest regret in Shi Tou's life.

*text from informational brochures was converted with image to text online programs, translated through google translator and edited by me with some help of online dictionaries. i do not speak chinese, so there are most certainly mistakes in the text. purpose of this translation is to give you the general idea

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away

It's been burning my brain ever since the finale of Agatha All Along.

This blog isn't for the writing purpose but I'm bending my own rule in the name of Agatha XD. I might upload one more if I can organise my imagination on these two

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

You were the firstborn of an esteemed aristocratic house, a position that brought both privilege and a constant, heavy gaze upon you. Eyes followed every room you entered and every event you attended. Though the title of heir would never be yours solely because you were a lady, it never seemed to matter to those around you. They treated you as if the future of the house rested upon your shoulders. The elders murmured of marriage alliances with royalty or influential families, whispering that your union could change the fate of your house. Other noble families saw you as a formidable rival, watching closely, ever-ready to seize on the slightest misstep, to turn it into fodder for gossip and criticism.

But you despised the role thrust upon you. While others revered the traditions, the traditional rules and propriety that dictated your every action, you only saw them as chains, binding you to a life scripted long before you were born. You longed to live on your terms, laugh freely, speak without calculation, and defy the mould others sought to press you into. You knew well that the path to freedom would not be simple—but that only made the dream burn brighter.

Besides, you possessed a power that would bring fear and scorn if anyone found out. In a world so bound by tradition and superstition, it was a power that might get you branded as a freak or, worse, stoned to death. You knew the origin of this ability, even if the elders dared not mention it. One of your ancestors had been a shaman, a fact buried under layers of silence and shame. Shamans were both revered and despised—consulted in times of desperation, yet viewed with suspicion and disdain due to their mysterious power.

Only your parents and siblings knew of your gift; not even the current lord of the household, your grandfather, had any inkling. You could command animals, bending them to your will. It had always been that way. At first, it simply seemed that animals were drawn to you. Birds would land beside you without fear, perching on your shoulder or finger. Dogs and cats would flock around you whenever you went outside, rolling onto their backs, begging for your touch. When an agitated horse reared at the central market, a single whisper from you could calm it. It was a charming quirk to everyone else—a testament to your vibrant, gentle nature. But you knew better. This wasn’t mere kindness; it was a hidden power that connected you to the earth's creatures in a way no one else could understand.

But then, it did not matter.

You sighed deeply, resting your chin on your hand. If anyone from the household saw you like this, they would scold you, demanding you act like a noble lady and not lounge on the ground like some street thug in your fine dress. The thought made you scoff.

Earlier, you had overheard a conversation between your grandfather and parents about a potential marriage proposal, and as soon as the word "marriage" came up, you’d bolted from the house. You ignored the calls of your servants and dashed out, uncaring of the stares you attracted along the way.

You kept running, heading toward the edge of the city to the well at the foot of the mountain, next to an ancient willow tree. It was a public place but one where you felt most free. Hardly anyone came here, as it was too remote, and many were scared in case of tigers coming down from the mountain. There was another well closer to the city centre where people preferred gathering and drinking water. Besides, this well was near a shaman’s house, marked by the colourful ribbons tied to the trees nearby—a symbol of ritual and mysticism that kept most people away.

You savoured the solitude of this place, where you could escape the eyes and expectations of others, if only for a moment. Then, you saw them; a couple approaching the well where you sat. The man was wearing a garment in a shade between blue and green, a black fan flicking in his right hand as he spoke. The woman beside him was clad in a dignified violet and purple dress, her posture commanding, though her face was drawn into a faint scowl. They seemed to be in a heated exchange—not quite arguing, but the woman was rolling her eyes while the man chuckled, clearly amused by whatever they were discussing.

As they came closer, a realisation struck you. The man's voice… it was softer, lighter than you had expected, almost too gentle to belong to an adult man. In fact, there was something subtly feminine about him, something that made you look again. He moved with an effortless grace, and though his features held a certain softness.

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity. Strangers rarely ventured to this remote spot—especially not ones with the dignified grace this pair exuded. As they noticed you, the man gave a slight nod, acknowledging your presence, while the woman raised a single eyebrow, appraising you with an air of amusement. Despite your longing for freedom, the ingrained teachings of etiquette tugged at you, urging you to be polite. You rose to your feet as gracefully as you could manage, offering them a courteous greeting. The man’s dark brown eyes were warm, but behind their softness, you saw a glint of sharp intelligence and a touch of mischief, as though he saw through everything around him. Then, your gaze fell upon the woman. Her eyes—a striking shade of blue—were unlike any you had seen before, deep and captivating, like the ocean’s endless expanse. You found yourself unable to look away, entranced by their beauty. Noticing your gaze, she offered you a small, knowing smile, soft yet tinged with a subtle seductiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Why would a noble lady be here without anyone to protect you?" the man asked, his gaze drifting over the surrounding deep mountains looming over them.

Hearing his voice so clearly, you began to suspect the man was, in fact, a woman. Her voice was captivating, with a rich, melodic quality, yet there was a subtle softness in her frame—a faint curve at her chest that might go unnoticed by most.

"I always come here," you touched your wrist. "Whenever I feel the need of an escape." You leaned back against the well, feeling the cool stone pressing into your back, grounding you.

The woman exchanged a look with her companion before shifting closer and leaning against the well wall beside you. She gave you a mischievous smile. "Wanna talk about it, doll?"

"I don't even know you," you replied cautiously, sizing them up.

Both exuded a quiet authority, an unmistakable presence. It was obvious they were not ordinary travellers—they bore the poise and refinement of nobility. But were they friends or potential adversaries?

The woman in men’s clothing smiled, her eyes briefly darkening as a cloud cast a fleeting shadow over the sun.

“I’m Rio,” she said, her voice lilting like a soft melody as if each syllable held a secret. Her gaze slid toward the woman standing beside you.

“I’m Agatha,” came the whispered reply, the words warm and close, her fingers grazing yours, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

"Rio, Agatha," you murmured, savouring the unfamiliar rhythm of their names as they lingered on your tongue.

This was how you met them, how they welcomed you into their embrace. And it was at this moment that your status as a noble began to crumble, all in the name of seeking freedom. To be with them.

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part N | Part O&P | Part Q | Part ? | Epilogue

[ckret2]

Chapter 78 of human Bill Cipher pretending he's not the Mystery Shack's captive for ten minutes:

This happens!

Whoops, sorry, zoomed too far in.

This happens!

Way more important and exciting.

####

Bill lasted—based on the sun's position—about a couple of hours before this body's needs knocked him out of his meditative mindset. He sat up with a sigh, checked his tanlines—the stripes he'd drawn across his abdomen were already darkening into a nice, angry burn—and glanced over at the lake to see what the Pines were up to.

At the moment, Mabel was holding a foot-long wiggling, glittery, gold-scaled trout in a net and grinning proudly. Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pointed at her in excitement as Dipper snapped a picture of them. Stan opened a cooler for her to drop the fish in. Mabel's face fell, and she hugged the fish protectively. Stan's shoulders sagged; but after half a minute of unsuccessful negotiations, he relented and pointed at the lake. She dumped the trout back in the water.

Bill clicked his tongue in disappointment and muttered, "If I'd thought they'd catch the golden trout, I would've told 'em that thing's like the holy grail to the Fishmasons." Stan probably would have insisted they keep it just so they could get something on Eugene. Bill wasn't emotionally invested in their feud; but the trout did grant three wishes. Bill could use that kind of power.

Oh well, he could tell them later. Maybe they'd get lucky and hook it again. Bill got to his feet. "Hey, old lady. I need to stretch my legs." Stretch his legs, look for entertainment, and forage for food—they were planning to be out here all day, but there hadn't yet been a grocery trip to properly stock his new fridge chest and he didn't trust Ford's nutrition pills, so he'd only brought along a bottle of hot sauce and a bottle of sprinkles and hoped he'd manage to find some food once he was here. (And if he didn't find any—well, at least he had hot sauce and sprinkles.)

"Okay," Abuelita said. She turned a page.

He put his slippers back on, dug his condiments and eye patch out of Abuelita's bag—his eyes were getting tired—put on the patch, and scanned the beach. "Hey. Looks like somebody's grilling hot dogs over there."

Abuelita made a noncommital sound of minimal interest.

"Hot dog might be nice," he said. "Looks like the grill's a biiit over thirty feet away, though..."

"Okay," Abuelita said again.

"So." He waved his braceleted hand demonstratively. "Shall we?"

"Eh. I don't want a hot dog." She slid the enchanted bracelet off and dropped it in the sand.

Bill stared at the bracelet, then stared at her. "What, that—really? You're just... really?"

"What am I, a cop?"

Good enough for him. "You're all right, lady." He wrapped the extra thread around his wrist, put on the second bracelet, and glanced at the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines weren't about to catch him off his leash.

The family was crowded around watching as Ford reeled in something heavy. He grinned excitedly as the hook dragged up a patch of soggy khaki fabric; and his smile vanished when his coat grabbed the boat with a furry hand. As the family scrambled to the far end of the boat, Bigfoot—wearing Ford's lost coat and a full set of scuba gear—climbed aboard the boat.

Ford punched Bigfoot in the face.

"Oh," Bill said. "Bigflipper. That'll keep 'em distracted for a while." Satisfied, he meandered up the beach.

He plastered on a bright smile as he approached the family with the hot dogs, veered around the husband working the grill, and walked right up to the wife sitting on a beach towel, eating a hot dog, and watching her kids play in the water. "Heeey, Wanda! What are you doing here! Look at you, you look terrific!"

The woman looked up at Bill from under her sunhat in bafflement. "I—hi? Sorry, do I...?"

"Sure, it's Goldie! Washington State! Fifteen years ago! We were in the same study group, remember? East Asian history? Honestly all I remember about the class is the other girls and that fifty percent of it was about Confucianism."

Wanda's eyes lit up, and then un-lit as she realized she still didn't recognize Bill. "Oh—heeey! Wow—sorry, guess I've slept since then."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just good with faces. Anyway, from what I remember," he jabbed a thumb toward the man at the grill, "at the time most of your attention was on Danny."

Wanda laughed again, a little more easily. "Right, god. I can't believe I made it through that semester with passing grades."

"Hey, you were still the only one in the group who could remember what order all those dynasties came in..."

Bill kept Wanda distracted for another couple of minutes with small talk about the study sessions he'd spied on out of boredom from a library stained glass window; and then, when he saw one hot dog had been set aside fully grilled and mustarded but as-yet unclaimed, he said, "But hey, I won't distract you anymore! Those kids look like a handful." While both parents turned to look at the kids, Bill snatched up the unclaimed hot dog, strolled down the beach, and called back, "It was good catching up!" That whole performance probably hadn't been necessary, he might've been able to time his loitering to swing by just as the hot dog was left unguarded; but it had been more fun this way. He didn't get to have a lot of conversations these days. Less where he felt like he was the one in control of the conversation.

He soaked the bun in hot sauce, dumped some sprinkles on the mustard, and took a bite while he glanced out at the lake again to see how the Pines were doing.

At the moment, Ford had Bigfoot in a chokehold from behind. Stan hit him with a right hook. Bigfoot kicked Stan in the chest with one immense flippered foot, and he tumbled backward into the lake.

Looked like none of them would be paying attention to anything on the beach any time soon. No need to go straight back to his cell. He scanned the rows of beachgoers sitting out by the lake, looking for fresh entertainment.

Bill's gaze fixed on one of the humans. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong. Amongst all the tourists in their swimsuits, one man—standing ramrod straight, dressed in a black suit, holding a heavy black device with an antenna—stuck out like a sore pale thumb in a pitch black bandaid.

An agent from the Bureau of Covert Investigations. The "eagles." The same guys that had covered up President Quentin Trembley's existence, a brief sightseeing trip Bill had taken to Roswell via nuclear testing-induced dimensional rip, and the miraculous and disgusting resurrection of cult leader/possession puppet Silas Birchtree; and, the guys that had been trying to find Bill's portal in Gravity Falls since they'd detected it in the '80s. Bill wasn't the eagles' biggest fan.

But they'd never been a big enough potential threat or a big enough potential help for him to intervene in their operations. In the mid '80s, when the lead investigator in Gravity Falls had been putting together his case, Bill had considered pulling some strings and manipulating them into taking over the portal from Stanley, before concluding they'd be more likely to disassemble the portal than activate it and it was better off in Stan's clumsy care. But all the same, he'd kept watch over their operations. 

And this, if he wasn't mistaken, was the lead investigator himself. Agent Powers. What was he doing here? Bill had thought the case was closed last year after Ford wiped their memories and sent them packing. Maybe Powers was here about Trembley? Depending on what the Pines had entered into the memory gun, the eagles might still remember that part of their operations in town.

Bill would kinda like to know where Trembley was these days. He studied the agent as he slowly finished his hot dog; and then he moved in.

"Hey there, agent!" Bill clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him start, and beamed brightly. "Welcome to town! What brings you to Gravity Falls?"

"Pardon?" Agent Powers gave Bill an appraising up-and-down look—threat assessment, probably—caught sight of his bikini top, and quickly looked him in the eye. "How did you know I'm an agent?"

"Oh, that's easy! I'm psychic."

Powers opened his mouth, paused, and then squinted skeptically at Bill.

"Just kidding. You've got an earpiece, a business suit at the beach, and the government's favorite car."

"Oh." Powers turned to glance toward where he'd parked. "Yes. I suppose so."

"Say! If you want a more covert vehicle, you oughta go to Gleeful Auto in town. You'll blend right in. Just tell 'em Mr. Locke sent you."

"Who's Mr. Locke?"

Right, Bill supposed he didn't look like much of a "Mr." at the moment. Humans didn't consider bikinis gender neutral for some reason. He took a split second to decide whether he'd get any practical benefits from trying to push past the agent's initial perception of his gender, and couldn't think of any. "Friend of mine!"

"Ah." Powers nervously looked Bill up and down again; then cleared his throat and glanced away, cheeks flushed faintly pink in the heat. "Right. Thank you, uh, citizen."

"No problem!" If Bill remembered his suits right, this agent was an easy target. Believed in "collaborating" with "local informants"; wasn't very good at the covert part of the Bureau of Covert Investigations. "You don't look like you're in town on vacation! Investigating anything interesting at the lake?"

"Well..." Powers flashed Bill a quick sideways glance before nodding vaguely toward a couple of people in dive suits further up the beach. "If you must know, we've picked up some evidence of the lake recently flooding its banks. Which is strange, because the amount of rain this area's received can't account for how high the water climbed..."

Not here about Trembley, then? "Flooding? Think there's any danger, agent? In our quiet, harmless little town?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Powers said quickly. "But, I've said too much. I should go." He shifted his footing anxiously. He did not go.

What was that about? Bill glanced down at himself; he still looked perfectly human, didn't see anything that should make a government agent nervous. Was it the lack of shaving? Was that too Seventies Feminist for Mr. Government Suit? Was the eyepatch setting off his secret agent "Soviet supervillain in a spy movie" instincts? He couldn't have noticed Bill stealing a hot dog.

Should Bill press his luck? (Stupid question—of course he should.) "Say, you keep giving me these odd looks, agent! Anything you wanna say?"

His pink cheeks flushed darker. "Er, no, no ma'am. It's just, I uh..." He gestured vaguely toward Bill, "I... couldn't help but notice that your... sunscreen is a bit streaky."

Bill glanced down at his tan lines. Streaky? He thought the burn lines were coming out pretty crisp.

The agent went on, "I was wondering if you needed help applying it more evenly." It took a split second for him to realize what he'd just said; and then he went even redder.

Bill raised his brows. Huh. "Nooo, I'm great, thanks. It's supposed to look like that."

"Oh." Powers's brow furrowed in confusion. "All right." He nodded. "In that case, I really should be going, then."

"All right!"

But Powers hesitated again for a moment before finally moving up the beach away from Bill.

Well. Interesting. Interesting reaction.

He checked on the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines hadn't seen anything. At the moment—he squinted—they seemed to be playing poker with Bigfoot. He must not have liked Mabel's playing (unsurprising; she was an incorrigible cheat), because he picked her up and chucked her in the lake.

"She's fine," Bill muttered. "She's got her life jacket." They were good about that in this town.

He watched as Powers met up with the divers farther along the beach; and then he headed back to his towel.

####

Bill had decided his front was sufficiently roasted and was struggling to apply new sunscreen stripes to his back so he could flip over, when he overheard somebody say, "Oh hey, Toga Lady?"

Bill twisted around, already grinning in greeting before he'd even seen who was talking to him. "Heya!" It was Broken Heart and two of the others. Wendy's gang. Robbie, Tambry, and Nate. "What are you guys doing out here! You don't look like the beach types!" (In deference to the environment, all three of them had donned swim trunks and sandals; but that was as beachy as they'd gotten. Nate and Tambry were in black t-shirts advertising metal bands. Robbie was still in his hoodie. Robbie's legs nearly glowed white.)

"Hanging," Tambry said, one arm around Robbie's back and face glued to her phone.

Nate elbowed Robbie. "Dude, he's Toga Guy, remember?"

"Toga 'Lad' would be better," Tambry said.

"You sure?" Robbie asked. "Sh—he's kinda..." He gestured vaguely toward his own chest, realized that probably wasn't the best way to make his point, and finished, "uh... bikini."

"I don't want to spend my day arguing about whether I've got the right to go topless!" Bill got to his feet and planted his hands on his hips. "I could talk my way out of trouble with the police—it's the tourist parents I'm worried about." He pulled up one strap to examine his shoulder. "It's gonna ruin my tan, though."

They took in his tan in progress: several horizontal lines across his lower torso and upper thighs, a few disconnects vertical lines stretched between the horizontal ones. Tambry glanced up from her phone, snorted, and started typing faster; Nate said, "Dude, are you trying to make bricks like the triangle guy?"

Bill froze, mouth open. "Uhhh..." Sure, that was the objective—he just hadn't really expected humans to find it that obvious. Nosy little pattern-seekers. "I mean—"

"That's cool," Tambry said. "Stick it to the man."

Robbie had screwed up his face a bit, but at Tambry's reaction, he shrug-nodded and conceded, "Yeah, it's kinda punk, I guess."

Nate said, "Praise Bill or whatever, right?" He laughed. "Yeah, I thought about getting a tattoo of him. Up here or something?" He pushed a sleeve up above the snake tattoo wrapped around his left bicep to show the blank spot on his shoulder. "But my parents would flip if they ever found out. Maybe I should do the brick thing too, it's way subtler." Nate turned to the other two, lifted up his shirt, and said, "Hey Tambers, do you think I'd look cool with bricks around my waist?"

She didn't look up. "No."

"What if I got an eye on my chest too?"

"Let me think. No."

Bill watched this back and forth with wide-eyed stunned silence. Hold on. What? Praise Bill?

"Pfff, whatever!" Robbie rolled his eyes. "Hey, you're gonna regret getting a Bill tattoo once I get my sick symbol off the anti-Bill circle. It's like... giving me a permanent rock-paper-scissors win against you. For the rest of time."

Nate laughed. "Shut up, whatever man! The circle didn't even do anything."

"It would have! It was, like, glowing!"

"Heeey!" Bill stepped into the trio's line of sight again. "Right, yeah, praise Bill, by the way any of you wanna help me get my back?" He turned around to gesture over his shoulder. "Little favor between punk weirdos?"

"Yeah, sure." Tambry tucked her phone into Robbie's hoodie pocket and held out her hand for the tube of sunscreen. "Just continue the lines around your back?"

"You got it." Bill lifted his arms. "And try to keep the bricks evenly spaced."

"What is this stuff? Some kind of suntan lotion?"

"It's more like anti-sunscreen," Bill said. "By the way, you probably wanna wash your hands after this unless you want sunburned fingers." He wiggled his own fingers, which were faintly flushed from applying the first layer of sunscreen that morning.

"Hey, anti-sunscreen," Nate said, "you could call that, uh... sun-beam." He paused. "No wait, that's already a word."

Robbie laughed. "You're an idiot."

"Sooo," Bill said. "Is the triangle guy cool now? Not—not asking for any particular reason. Just curious."

"Oh, yeah," Tambry said. "Like half the school's decided he's our crazy anti-authoritarian counterculture chaos god now?" (Bill was adding that to his business card.)

Robbie said, "Somebody set up a shrine to him in a hollow tree stump behind the school. People started making animal sacrifices to him during finals week."

Nate said, "It's chicken nuggets and cafeteria tacos, but. Y'know. We didn't say live animals."

"Huh! Interesting!" Bill tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound too excited. He was hip with the youth. Who'd imagined! This was what he got for hanging out with the town's cops and politicans, he could've been exploiting this for a month. "But I think he prefers receiving gold!"

Nate laughed. "Dude, I'd prefer receiving gold, too. What we have is chicken nuggets and tacos."

"Fair enough," Bill shrugged. "By the way—if you want a Bill tattoo? The traditional style is to shave your hair and get his eye above your forehead, right here!" He tapped his skull over his brain's frontal eye fields. "It tells him right where to enter."

"Oh, sweet! That's perfect," Nate said. "I can shave, get a tattoo, and just keep my hat on until my hair grows back. No one will ever know!" (Bill tried to imagine hair growing out of his eyeball, and wished he hadn't.)

Robbie said, "Hey, weren't the Pines like... not letting you go outside because you knew him or something? That's what Wendy said."

That wasn't the story he'd told her. He'd have to find out where she'd picked that up. "Or something. It was more because of dumb academic ego-measuring contests than anything to do with that."

"So, they finally letting you outside alone now?"

"Only for group trips." Bill pointed out at the lake.

The three teens squinted toward the boat. "Whoa," Tambry said. "Are they arm-wrestling Bigfoot?"

"Oh, yeah. It was poker earlier."

For a moment, all activity ceased as the teens watched the battle out on the lake. Nate sat in the sand and propped his chin in his hand. Figuring Tambry was done with his stripes, Bill plopped onto his beach towel to watch as well.

Bigfoot defeated Stan, and Soos switched places with him to try next. Soos lasted five seconds before Bigfoot flipped him into the water. Melody scrambled to help pull him back aboard as Bigfoot pumped his fists in the air victoriously. Bill snorted.

"Bad luck," Robbie said. 

"I could beat him," Nate said. "Hey Robbie, think I could beat him?"

"Pfff, no."

"Bet Wendy could," Tambry said, recording through her phone as Bigfoot generously indulged Dipper and Mabel's attempt to take him on as a team. The guys murmured vague agreement with Tambry.

"Buuut anyway," Bill said, reluctant to let the conversation get too far away from himself, "yeah, I might've talked to the triangle guy a couple, several times."

"That's pretty cool," Nate said. "Hey, we oughta hang sometime, I bet Lee'd wanna hear about that. It'd probably drive Wendy crazy, but..."

Tambry let out a dismissive pff. "The triangle stuff's been driving Wendy crazy all year. She can take it."

"Not a fan?" Bill asked.

"Nah, she thinks the whole thing's creepy. Her and Thompson both."

"I think the whole cult thing's fine," Robbie said magnanimously. "As, y'know, one of the people prophesied to defeat him. If he ever really came back and caused trouble, we could handle it."

Bill tried not to roll his eye. Bold words out of a guy who, a couple of years ago, had left a plate of spaghetti in the woods to see if an "evil triangle" urban legend was true, and had thrown up when Bill dragged him into a dream state to show him just how true it was.

On Earth, urban legends about Bill tended to pop up and wither away in waves around the epicenter of his latest area of influence—like mushroom rings spreading away from a patch of ground they'd depleted of useful nutrients and left to die. Bill suspected the local urban legend Robbie had stumbled upon had been passed down in Gravity Falls for thirty years by teens misinterpreting Old Man McGucket's crazy ramblings about a "demon triangle" and "spaghettification."

He was always torn on whether to encourage or quash such urban legends: on the one hand, it was handy for humans to know he existed and was available for deals; but much less handy when they warned each other away from him. More than once, knowledge of him had nearly broken into the mainstream, and he'd had to put all his other plans on hold to focus on deflecting the whistleblowers' information into obscurity.

Apparently encouraging the spaghetti one had been the right move, if a year after his brief conquest of Gravity Falls the teens were offering him sacrifices rather than cursing his name.

Nate punched Robbie's arm. "Why would he cause us trouble? He's our chaos god, remember? We've given him offerings!"

"I like that attitude," Bill said. "Hanging out sounds fun! We'll... figure something out sometime." As soon as he found a way to make the Pines let him go outside without being surrounded by babysitters. Wouldn't that be humiliating, a full adult hanging out with teenagers and it's the adult who isn't allowed outside without a chaperone. No, that wasn't an option. If he came with an adult attached, they'd ditch him in a heartbeat for being too much of a drag.

The teens made their farewells and headed down the beach, Tambry and Robbie with their arms around each other again. Tambry wiped the anti-sunscreen off her hand onto the back of Robbie's hoodie.

As they went, they walked past Agent Powers—who was looking right at Bill.

Bill stared. The agent quickly looked away.

He didn't like that one bit. As he adjusted his position to lay face down on his towel, he said, "Hey, Dolores. You get the feeling we're being watched?"

"Hm?" Abuelita glanced up from her book toward Bill, then looked where he was looking. "Government." She made a disapproving noise and turned back to her book. "Nothing but trouble."

"You said it." Why was Powers so focused on Bill. He couldn't possibly be in any kind of trouble, he hadn't even existed until a month ago. And the eagles probably didn't know that, did they?

Nothing Bill could do about it in the middle of a beach trip. He propped his chin in his hand and checked on the fishing crew again.

In a fury, Bigfoot had ripped the motor off the back of the boat and lifted it over his head. The Pines family huddled together at the other end of the boat, trying to shield their heads.

A golden trout jumped out of the water, arced majestically through the air, and smacked Bigfoot in the face. Bigfoot stumbled backward and tripped out of the boat.

Hm. Maybe letting the trout go had been the right move. Bill shut his eyes and lay back down.

####

The sun was low and most of the beachgoers had gone home when the Stanowar chugged back to shore, battle-weary, disheveled, and dissatisfied. Except for Ford, who was wearing his sopping wet coat over his waders, holding one boot, and pleased as punch.

"Hey!" Bill shouted. "How'd it go!" He surreptitiously tossed half the bracelet over to Abuelita. She quietly slid it on.

Crankily, Stan yelled from the dock, "You didn't mention Bigfoot in a scuba tank!"

Bill shouted back, "Bigflipper wasn't there when I looked! What, did you expect me to check the entire spacetime continuum to find you the perfect fishing?!"

Faintly, he could hear Ford say, "See, I told you his proper name is Bigflipper."

Mabel repeatedly poked Dipper in the arm as they crossed the beach. Dipper flinched each time. "Ow, ow—Mabel. Cut it out."

"That's what you get for forgetting your sunscreen, bro-bro!"

Dipper's arms and face were bright red with a sunburn. "I didn't forget! I put it on at the beach, right before we left!"

Bill grabbed up Abuelita's empty water bottles and tossed them in the nearest trash can, along with the rest of his tube of anti-sunscreen before anyone could get a good look at it. He ignored the kids and said to Stan, "But it was a good fishing spot, right?"

Stan grumbled, but grudgingly admitted, "Yeah. Until tall, brown, and hairy showed up. We caught four fish! That's gotta be at least as good as the guys from the lodge, right?"

Bill winced. "Ooh. Sorry, they went by an hour ago with eleven fish."

Stan let out a roar of outrage and threw his fishing rod in the sand.

"Grunkle Stan, you don't go fishing to catch fish," Mabel said. "You go fishing to catch memories! Look at this!" She held up a bunch of photos. "This is a whole scrapbook spread right here! We caught sooo many memories."

"And my coat," Ford said. He was admiring his #1 Grunkle pen, which he'd taken from the coat pocket.

"I'd rather have fish," Stan grumbled. "All right, c'mon. Let's get..." He trailed off, looking past Bill. "Hey, is that...?"

Bill glanced back over his shoulder, and grimaced. Agent Powers and his protégé were watching them from the far end of the beach. Bill quickly turned back around. "Yep. Your old friends from last summer," he said. "They've been scoping out the beach all day. I don't know what they're here for—but you probably wanna get out of here." More importantly, Bill wanted to get out of here—but he didn't see any benefit to letting them know he was nervous.

"He's right," Ford said. "If they see us long enough to recognize us—and his memories start coming back..."

"Who are they?" Melody asked.

Soos whispered loudly, "I'll explain it in the car." Bill bit back the need to point out that whispering didn't make a difference as far away as the agents were.

"I don't get it," Stan said. "What are they doing back here?"

"You wanna go ask him?" Bill asked. Stan grimaced.

The Pines and Ramirez families piled back in their vehicles and headed out. Bill had the uneasy feeling that Agent Powers was focused on the Ramirez's truck as they left.

####

(How long have I been promising the Agent Powers plot, since like the May before last or something? Here it is!!

Next week, either we launch straight into the Powers plot, or I finally have the Axolotl chapters (it's chapters plural now) sufficiently edited and we do that first, because once we start the Powers plot there's no place for a break until it's over. Hopefully the Axolotl chapters will finally be ready by next Friday, but if they're not...... tough. It's fine though, you'll live.)

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

Summary: You had only wanted to petition the god of summer for rain to ease the drought. Locked away for your crimes, the god of summer, Johnny comes to your aid to set all things right. Eventual Poly 141.

A/N: Please comment and reblog. Thank you to @ethereal-night-fairy and @wildflower-and-honey for feeding my brain worms. I love you both and cannot thank y'all enough <3 Thank you, @saradika, for the beautiful dividers I use in everything. @itsagrimm it would feel wrong not to tag you in something I had written.

CW: (18+) Children begone! PIV smut, swearing, a Dyslexic wrote this, Religious Kinks, some violence. Let me know if I missed anything!

NO AI

Leave a comment and reblog!

Even on a summer night, wrapped in darkness and starlight, sweat insisted on gathering at your temples. The fire cracked as you added your willow bark and woven cattails to the flames, praying to the god of summer, Johnny, for rain. You anxiously rubbed your arm over your beloved leaves' trellising along your arms, watching the embers' pops fall on dead grass as you stood beside your bucket of dirty water. Crispy and dry, shriveled and withered, the once green leaves of the oaks looked yellow, some falling away to join the dusty ground below. When you traveled to the lake to gather your offering, the water seemed putrid, mostly evaporated, leaving muddy banks to dry in the heat. It reeked a musk so awful; you wondered how even the fish stood it.

Come harvest, the looming hunger would cause an instability you feared. If the tradespeople hadn’t food, your people would not have even a foraged berry; the livestock not a blade of grass to chew.

“The council of elders dictated no fires, little lady.”

You jumped, turning to face Phillip Graves, your neighbor and ever-faithful watchdog for Elder Sheppard. Clutching the fabric of your dress, you licked your lips before tilting your chin up.

“Someone had to appeal to the gods about the drought. Or does the council think they can strong-arm the clouds to gather?” You bit. Pressing your lips together as Elder Sheppard followed behind his dog.

“My mother used to wear the robes of a priestess. I find it odd you wear those robes as well when the last of them burned with her body,” Sheppard noted.

The body of the last holy woman, who had mysteriously burnt to death in her home as her son had conveniently been away, was found with chains tethered to her body. Your family had always insinuated it was Sheppard who had murdered his mother and tried to cover it up, but there was no proof, no investigation.

Power begets power without hesitancy, and nothing made Sheppard hesitate.

“They were a gift, Elder-”

“Stolen or forged items ain’t gifts, little lady,” Phillip interrupted. He moved to stand beside you, circling you wolfishly. His grin never seemed to fit his face, always too small for proportion, a liar in disguise—a mutt of deception.

“How dare you imply such things about my character without proof?” You hissed, hands coming to clutch your skirts.

Phillip lurched forward, grabbing your arm. He tore your sleeve from your dress, the fabric popping at the delicate seams. You stepped back, only for him to hold your arm still in a grip that dimpled skin and muscle. Pain simmered below his touch, dancing with the fear curling in your throat. Philip glared at the tendrils of silver scars blessed to you by Kyle, god of Spring.

If Sheppard killed his mother, what would keep him from murdering you?

“Are there more marks?” the elder inquired, hooking a finger under your belt with a tug to suggest removing the garment altogether. 

Enraged, you smacked his hand, retrieving your arm from Phillip’s death grip, “My body is none of your concern!”

“The safety of the village comes before you!” Graves sneered, yanking your skirts towards him until you toppled forward. His hands moved to your hips, and you shoved at him until his hand came sharply against your cheek, the sting of the slap making you gasp.

Phillip… had hit you. Your eyes stung with tears as you grappled against him, shoving your elbows and hands anywhere near his body until you were free, only to be pulled back by Sheppard.

“I think it’s time for you to learn your lesson on hearsay, foolish girl,” Shepard hissed. “The gods are unkind to those who take liberties.”

“I’ve found favor with them. Cannot learn a lesson that is not there,” you quaked. From the corner of your eye, Philip pulled his dagger from his belt, flipping the hilt. With one quick flash, he struck your temple, leaving you crumpled into the cracked, dusty ground.

The moonbeams blurred the walls covered in cobwebs, revealing a thin layer of dust on the floor. Your beloved temple once stood as the prized gem of your people, welcoming all to a haven of peace and community. Pushing into a sitting position, the room tilted like the waves of the rushing river. The darkness of the windowless temple entryway echoed with the dry summer winds, carrying nothing but the singing yearning of water from the plants.

Shepard and Graves deserved to be hung on the oak for treason against the gods, the people, and yourself. Your arms, once covered in Kyle’s beautiful marks, claiming you as beloved of spring, now were dotted with drying scratches and swollen welts of discolored skin from their harsh treatment.

“Happy summer solstice, I guess,” You huffed, slowly hobbling to your feet, using the locked door to bear your weight as the spinning room settled again.

There were worse prisons to be had than a dusty temple. At least in the dusty temple, you were safe and alone from those who wanted you dead. You furrowed your brow and pushed off of the wall, heading deeper into the holy rooms. If they had wanted you dead, they should have stabbed you.

“Gods help me,” you huffed, sitting on a bench along the hallway leading to the offering room. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head against the wall, feeling a touch of a headache thump harder against your skull.

“You called Fawn?” 

You cracked open your eyes to see a man standing at the threshold of the altar room, beams of fire light flickering from the once dark room. He stood on his toes, seemingly bursting with energy, trying to go. Where he wanted to go, who knew? Perhaps he didn’t know himself? 

“Johnny?” You guessed, gazing at the god of summer. His blue eyes glittered like gems as he nodded. 

“As smart as you are, bonny, ain’t ya?” he teased, coming closer. Standing before you, he narrowed his eyes, moving your jaw to examine your temple. “Ach, that will do. What happened?”

“Got in trouble for trying to petition for your favor. Tore my dress and all,” you huffed. “Now I'm locked in here. I'm sure I can get out through the window in the east corridor if I break it.”

Johnny chuckled, holding your chin in both hands as he ran his thumb over your temple, smearing the blood. A breath of warmth trickled from his hand, allowing the skin to stitch together. Your eyes fluttered closed as you soaked in the warmth. 

“You could. Or you can stay the night with me,” Johnny teased. “Feel better, Fawn?” He questioned, leaning down to place a kiss on the healed skin. Your face warmed, suddenly bashful of his affection. 

“If you want, I’ll spend the night, Johnny,” You muttered as his nose brushed your cheek.

“Nae, spend it if ye want. If ye did nae want to, don’t. I want our Fawn to be comfortable above all.” He gave a bright grin before leaping to his feet and stepping back. Rocking on his feet, he tucked his hands in his pockets.

“I am comfortable with you. I wouldn’t accept it if I weren’t.” You stood, slipped your hand in his, and followed him into the offering room.

The offering room, dressed in old tapestries covered in dust and neglect, still looked magnificent and of the wealth the gods deserved to be honored with. The wealth came in the delicate hand-spun embroidery lace that decorated tables, and in the hair-line needlepoint stitches one of your ancestors had sewn into the tapestries. It was in the richly dyed fabrics of floor cushions and pillows, the foraged metal bowls with intricate silver detailing that held fruits Johnny fed you with.

Fruits that he summoned after you had explained the drought and how you ended up locked in the holy shelter. You chewed on your berry, leaning against him as he pulled you to his side once you sat. The god of the West absentmindedly brushed your arm or hand like he couldn’t help it, needing your skin like a lifeline. He looked at you similarly, leaning forward as you spoke, quietly nodding or humming under his breath, staring at you like you spoke words of newfound wisdom that were important to him. Words he held deep in his heart.

“I am sorry. You might think these problems in the village bellow you, as a god,” You murmured, bashful under his intensity. Setting your meal of fruits and other delicacies aside by your water glass, you let the god pull you into his side once more. “Drought and intrapersonal strife are not new in this world- certainly won’t end anytime soon either.”

“I ken what ye mean, Fawn,” Johnny kissed your hair as you turned into his chest, more so laying on top of the god. His hand slid down to your back, continually moving. “But Kyle was the one to start the drought. These are not normal climate patterns or political drama; they come from us because we protect ours. And you are ours, no?”

You blinked, lifting your chin to look him in the eyes. You understood the gods had wanted you. You wanted the gods in return. But the gods came and went with the seasons, only able to be in the village one at a time, Kyle had once told you. Not all gods were as peaceful as the four who loved and cherished one another. Allowing the gods to gather in groups in mortal lands would destroy people, animals, and the Earth.

“Have I not dedicated my life to the service of the gods?” You questioned. “I belong to you, but you are a god- gods. You cannot belong to me, a mortal.”

Soap hummed, kissing your forehead before saying, “Willne stop us from being loyal to ye. But you need to ask for help, Fawn. We canne help without mortal consent. If either of those haughty bastards lay a hand on ye again,” He tipped your chin up and brushed his nose against yours as he spoke. “I’ll kill them myself. I’ll hunt down their soul in the other world and kill it until nothing is left of them or their legacy.”

A breath caught in your throat. The god of Summer was serious, bluntly stating how he would end the most immortal parts of a human for you. You opened your mouth once, twice, three times to find the correct words to thank him, but it did not matter. His lip quirked into a smirk, knowing he had rendered you speechless. You scoffed quietly in disbelief yourself, smiling, as you reached forward and kissed him, crawling into his lap.

“Mmf, Kyle dinne say you were this eager,” Johnny teased between kisses, eagerly pulling at your hips to be closer.

“I learned it from Kyle,” You giggled, tugging the hem of your skirts to straddle the god of the West. Johnny laughed, finding his hands beneath your skirts, slithering to knee the softest parts of your legs and hips.

“That I believe, but no more eager than me. Might say he learned it from me, Fawn,” He muttered between kisses along your neck until his hands slid to your ass, groping you while pulling you forward, cunt flush with his aching cock. You inhaled sharply, looping your arms around his neck as you gave a gentle rock of your hips.

“Go on, Fawn, take what ye need,” Soap encouraged, pulling your robes from your body with reverence for the material and laying it on the floor with care. His eyes flickered to your breasts, hands itching up to cup your breasts as he mouthed at your nipple. Closing your eyes, your hips continued their gentle grind as he licked and sucked and nipped your skin. His hips started to roll, his cock pulsing under your slick heat.

“Wanna ride you, Johnny,” You muttered as you slid your hand to his cock, stroking him with slow, twisting motions. The god tilted his head forward, resting it on your neck as he groaned.

“Ye could ask to kill me, and I would say yes,” He chuckled.

“Wouldn’t want that. Whose pretty cock would I get to sit on, then?” You giggled. “Besides, you’re not the one I want dead.” Rising to your knees, Johnny moved his hands to your hips and leaned back to watch you sink on him with a groan.

“Ye, ye want someone dead?” Johnny cursed as he throbbed inside of your slick pussy.

“Thought it was obvious, darling,” You breathed, letting your hips come flush to his thighs.

Legs settling to his sides, you sat there momentarily, soaking in the feeling of being connected to the god. He radiated heat, chest pressing against your own until your hearts beat a wild back and forth, call and response. His hand slid along your spine as the other cupped your cheek to bring your lips to his.

Just as it had been with John and Kyle, when the sun rose, and the village awoke, so too would Johnny leave. The infinite curtain of the universe had once separated your two worlds of divinity and morality. Still, it had been risen for you to peek into, touching and tasking the tremendous edges of the divine.

“I adore you,” You whispered against his lips. “Come what may in the morning, I adore you.”

“Then fuck me like you mean it, Fawn,” Johnny teased, smirking. “Move those hips, Gaz won’t shut up about.” He smacked your ass, making you squeak and jolt, but his hands pushed your hips back down. Moaning, you tangled your hands in his hair as he bent his head to play with your tits.

“Fuck, Johnny,” You gasped as he moved a hand to your clit, following the tilt of your pelvis until that familiar heat simmered in your abdomen.

“Feel good, Fawn? Yer choking my cock, love.” Bending his knees, he planted a hand behind himself as an anchor and thrust his hips up, taking the breath from your lungs. Since he couldn’t rub your clit anymore, you rubbed yourself, clenching tighter and tighter as the heat in your body rose.

“Our good little mortal,” Johnny groaned. “So pretty dressed in her robes Price gifted you. Bet you would be prettier spread out on my altar, huh? Dripping on the cloth as I watch you gift me orgasms.”

“I,” You whined at a harsher thrust, hips chasing his for more.

“Dinne fash, Fawn. We all will get our orgasms from you, altar or not. You’re too beautiful not to be blissed out before us.”

Your body tightened. Wetness gushed around his cock as you came unexpectedly from his mouth. Your eyelids blurred with black and white streaks as blood rushed to your head. In all of it was Johnny’s steady thrusts and your slowing rubs, dragging you through your orgasm. Johnny grunted and came, watching his cum spurt along your folds.

You both laid back on the floor to catch your breaths, Johnny’s cock still standing at attention. Brushing your head down to the ends of your hair, he kissed you gently.

“We adore you too, Fawn. So much,” Johnny whispered. “Orgasms on our altar or not,” He joked.

“Well, that’s good. I’m sure plenty of women in the village would offer it if they knew.”

“Wouldne want them, just yours. Few in your village believe like you do. We don’t care for offerings made out of obligation.” Johnny stretched his arms up, bracketing them behind his head. “Price is thinking of how to set things right in your village. But it is difficult.”

“A good many things in life are difficult,” You agreed. “It just depends on the price you are willing to pay for peace.”

It came about Wednesday morning. You had escaped the temple days before with help from the god of Summer to find your home, thankfully untouched by the elders or their dogs. Remaining in your home or the wilds of the woods, clouds slowly gathered. Soap visited you as he could with gifts of food to sustain you and other necessities, so you did not have to go to market, but the darkness gathered.

When the storms came, winds carried the dust like leaves, pelting rocks at your walls. Thunder cracked open the skies and earth, shaking the home’s foundations. You prayed through the storm, thanking the god of summer for rain and praying that your village would not be flooded.

Most said it was an unfortunate coincidence when Phillip Graves’ home got struck and sparked like kindling.

Some said his home alight in the rain was as moving as the dawn of a new day, a reminder of nature’s might.

The smoldering embers of Phillip Graves’ home told another story as they pointed to the West, marking this as the divine punishment for his despicable behavior. That night, when Johnny entered your home, he gifted you a small cloth bag of charcoal, promising you the gods were not done working in your village.

Me again! Hope y'all enjoyed. Don't forget to comment/reblog.

If anyone knows how to format here, could you tell me how to get an extra space between paragraphs? Having everything scrunched together is driving me nuts. When I try manually, the format reverts to the original. Any tips/tricks are welcome :)

[ghostsandguns]

141 as exotic dancers

Price is one of the club's managers and also a dancer himself. He has the most experience, having started in his early 20s when he needed the money to pay for college. He's a favourite among the older ladies and his most popular act includes a cowboy outfit, where he wears nothing but a hat and crotchless pants that reveal his tight underwear.

Song: Lady Gaga - Dancin' in circles

Ghost is best known among customers for his signature skull mask. His anonymity is a key part of his allure, adding an air of mystery that draws the audience in. Specialising in intimate, slow-burn dances, he's practically made for sensual red lighting. One of his most captivating routines is the chair act, where he invites a lucky audience member to join him on stage.

Song: The Weeknd - Die for you

Gaz is, without a doubt, the best dancer at the club. He's an allrounder who can handle both slow and upbeat songs. In addition, he likes to keep an eye out for first-time visitors, making sure they feel comfortable enough to enjoy the experience. And let me tell you, the crowd goes WILD hen he uses water in his performances. The droplets falling down his chest, slowly making their way toward his waist...

Song: Rihanna - S&M

Soap? BRING OUT THE POLE BBY! He's the life of the party, and though nobody will admit it, the most popular of them all. He's always in high demand, especially for bachelorette parties. Soap loves to show off his powerful, thick thighs as he twirls, climbs, and executes jaw-dropping moves on the pole. He knows exactly how to tease the audience, always earning himself some big tips. To top it all off, he likes to sprinkle a little glitter onto his mohawk.

Song: Nicki Minaj - Super Freaky Girl

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ…"

Word count: 6,800.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

DISTANCE — 9. Her.

At first, her days had been monotonous and boring. She rarely left her room, and even less so the castle. Immersed in a life that contrasted drastically with the ceaseless hustle and bustle of the former.

There, far from King's Landing, she found herself yearning for the life she had left behind. Closed off to life in Dragonstone, which was simpler, slower, and she could not find solace in it. She missed the Red Keep, which, although no longer felt like home, was at least familiar. The constant hum of activity and the presence of people she once took for granted seemed like a distant dream.

But most of all, she missed him. The void left by his absence was palpable, a constant ache that never quite went away. His absence haunted her thoughts, making the already stark contrast between her past and present even more pronounced. The memory of him was a specter that lingered at the edges of her mind, making the solitude of Dragonstone feel even more isolating.

She found refuge only in the company of her mother, her lady-in-waiting, and her brothers. Joffrey, still too young to ride his dragon, provided a source of innocent joy. Luke and Jace, when they weren’t engrossed in training or flying, shared special moments with her that briefly alleviated her loneliness.

She couldn't help but feel envious of how easily her brothers seemed to have adapted. She acknowledged that her difficulty was purely her own fault; she couldn't completely let go of her previous life. She deeply longed for her past, melancholic.

Her memories were vivid with the bustle of the city and the castle coming to life, the constant coming and going of servants and guards, the plush softness of her mattress, the warmness of his chest, the distant chimes of the Grand Sept’s bells, the depth of his gaze, and the calm sea, always present, gently caressing the bay and framing the view from her window, a soothing backdrop to her daily life.

Despite the dangers and politics that filled every corner, for her, King's Landing was synonymous with belonging and security; it was all she knew.

The transition to Dragonstone was jarring, an abrupt shift that left her reeling. The moment she set foot on the island, she was struck by its untamed beauty and raw, almost menacing energy. The rugged cliffs, the relentless waves crashing against the shore, and the brooding sky all seemed to echo a wildness she found unsettling and violent.

She allowed herself to explore, tentatively at first, then with growing curiosity. She marveled at the sea, how it changed hues under the shifting light—cleaner, deeper, more vibrant than the waters of Blackwater Bay. The night sky, free from the haze of city lights, seemed brighter. The nights, though lonelier, were filled with peace and reflection.

The energies of her ancestors seemed to throb in the draconic sculpted walls, as if the stones themselves narrated the history of her forebears. Every dark corridor, every imposing tower, every silent room vibrated with the presence of those who had walked there before her. In the library, filled with knowledge and more books than she had ever seen, words were inscribed on ancient scrolls and tomes, preserving tales of bygone eras. The cliffs that bordered the island and the smoking Dragonmont were full of arcane mysteries, revealing forgotten feats and silent tragedies. The caves, home to legendary dragons, were sanctuaries of life, brimming with a raw and primordial energy. The entire  castle emanated a glorious force and the island seemed to hum with a magnificent power, a testament to the grandeur and might of her ancestry.

The connection she felt with the place deepened, and as she accepted this, a newfound peace washed over her. King's Landing would always hold a piece of her heart, but Dragonstone had claimed her spirit, her soul, and her unwavering loyalty.

She began to understand that it wasn't merely a place of exile or a temporary stop, but her true home. It was a living bond with her real identity, and each time she thought of her previous life, the memory faded, becoming less significant.

Her initial apprehension transformed into a resounding devotion, turning Dragonstone into the most cherished landscape she had ever known.

Soon, Daemon's visits became more frequent, and no one was surprised when they witnessed the Valyrian wedding. The ceremony was nothing short of magnificent, with dragon banners fluttering in the wind and ancient rites performed under the watchful eyes of the gods. 

When both families united, it only brought more joy and harmony. She already loved her family deeply, but the female presence of Baela and Rhaena was something she profoundly thanked.

However, there was another emotion that had slowly evolved within her, refusing to fully resolve. While she may have stopped yearning for King's Landing, there remained someone there she could not forget. This lingering longing was a shadow in her heart, an echo of the past that refused to fade completely, keeping a part of her spirit tethered to the city she had left behind.

At first, she was engulfed in confusion, questioning if, that fateful night, perhaps, she had overstepped boundaries—if she had misinterpreted his silent signals and misunderstood his whispered words.

Then came a deep, shadowy sadness. The day she departed, she had not only lost her father and the place where she grew up, but also her closest and dearest friend. It felt as if she had left behind a piece of her soul along with her childhood.

In the wake of this sorrow, an all-consuming anger took hold. She had sacrificed so much, standing steadfastly by his side through his darkest hours, and yet, a simple visit in the wake of her father’s death felt like the least acknowledgment she deserved in return. The injustice of it all ignited a flame within her.

Every fiber of her being ached for a reunion with him, even as she dreaded the prospect of facing him again. Her dreams were haunted by visions of him riding Vhagar, soaring through the skies in search of her. She imagined letters arriving, responses to her heartfelt missives, yet such never came, and those dreams remained unfulfilled.

With the impending journey, as the anniversary of the King's coronation and his nameday approached, the inevitable reunion loomed on the horizon. It promised a family gathering that, though eagerly anticipated, also filled her with profound fear.

Since moving to the island, her mother had constantly spoken of one particular thing. "She's restless," she would remark with a knowing glance, "because of you."

The islanders had told her mother: “She hasn’t been like this in years, not since she lost her rider.” At first, she paid little attention, not wanting to get her hopes up, attributing the rumors to local superstitions. But soon, she began to notice the signs.

Every morning upon waking, she would see her flying near her window, watching her with inquisitive eyes, as if trying to understand who this new inhabitant of the island was, attempting to discern the nature of her presence.

During her training sessions on the beach, she often felt a sudden, cool shadow sweep across her, and when she looked up, there she was, her powerful wings creating gusts that made her hair dance. Often accompanied by Vermithor, who kept watch from above but never descended.

At first, the proximity unnerved her, but over time, it became comforting, even familiar. There was something in those ancient eyes that awakened a sense of recognition, something she couldn’t explain.

One afternoon, after an intense training session with her brothers and and with her and Jace's seventeenth nameday celebration on the horizon, she found herself on the coast, basking in the splendor of the landscape.

The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the island in a warm, golden glow, a sharp difference to the usual gloomy days. 

That day, something within her roared with the same power that emanated from the creature. She felt an unspoken connection, a deep, primal awareness that the dragon was near, resonating through her very core.

As she stood by, her senses were suddenly alive with anticipation. She appeared, skimming so close to the water that the sea’s mist kissed her face, as though conveying a message from fate itself.

Her heart raced as she watched her turn in the air and come back, her wings slicing through the clouds. The dragon turned her head towards her, letting out a soft roar, almost like an invitation.

Without a second thought, she began to follow, feeling her steps guided by a higher force.

The dragon flew at a deliberate pace, allowing her to keep up before tucking its wings and disappearing into a cavern. She climbed the slopes of Dragonmont. The path was treacherous, with loose stones and narrow ledges. Fortunately, she wasn’t wearing a dress, making her ascent easier.

Anticipation and nervousness filled her. The tales resonated in her mind, and although she wasn’t sure how to proceed, an inner voice urged her to keep moving forward.

Reaching the mouth of the cave, she paused for a moment, catching her breath and taking in the view behind her. The island lay sprawled out beneath her, the setting sun casting long shadows and turning the sea into a shimmering expanse of molten gold. She turned back to the cave, the entrance dark and foreboding, yet filled with an irresistible allure.

Gathering her courage, she stepped into the dimness. The air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of earth and the faint, sulfurous hint of the volcano.

It was vaguely illuminated by the sunlight filtering through cracks in the ceiling, casting a beautiful dance of shadows on the walls.

Suddenly, she saw her. Lying on a bed of rocks and moss, silver scales glimmered like scattered stardust. A majestic being of contained strength. Her eyes, a deep blue, resembling two flawless sapphires, locked onto her with intense scrutiny. Upon sensing her presence, she greeted her arrival with a low rumble.

It was a truly imposing and beautiful sight. Her neck was long, and her size colossal. With caution and respect, she approached, mesmerized. 

She kept her hands visible, her movements slow, and her breaths gentle, hoping that she could sense the sincerity of her heart and the absence of fear. The dragon lifted her head, observing her with a calm yet watchful curiosity.

The moment felt eternal, a breath of time where they studied each other. She continued to close the distance and slowly extended her arm. “Māzīs” she whispered softly, the word carrying her hopes and intentions.

Silverwing approached, her movements both graceful and powerful, took a step forward, and after a few seconds, lowered her enormous head, aligning it with the extended hand. She raised it further, and when she finally touched her, she felt a connection, an invisible bond that seemed to pull her heart towards the being. Silverwing created a magical aura around both.

She knew, with firm certainty, that this was her destiny.

A warm glow enveloped them, and Silverwing emitted a low, guttural sound, a harmonious mix of purring and roaring. A shiver of recognition and wonder coursed through her as she realized that this moment was far greater than her own.

As her hands traced her warm body, she began to whisper: “Nyke kivio naejot rigle ao.” The dragon closed her eyes, enjoying her touch and voice. A bond of trust and understanding began to form and she felt a wave of emotions, primarily a sense of belonging.

With a huge smile on her face, she walked slowly around her, maintaining the contact, caressing her sides with gratitude and reverence. The scales gleamed, reflecting the filtered sunlight. At that moment, she felt that not even the moon could rival the dragon’s ethereal beauty.

Silverwing lowered herself, pressing her chest against the cavern floor, creating a natural platform for her to mount. With a sense of mutual trust and understanding, she accepted the silent invitation. Using the aid of the extended wing, she carefully climbed onto her back, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her and the unwavering strength of her new companion.

It was a bit challenging, as there was no saddle after so many years without a rider. With her legs spread on either side of her body, she stroked her back and grasped the horns that adorned her neck, securing her position.

“Sōvēs, Gēliotīkun” she said, the words carrying a blend of awe and command

The dragon responded with a soft grunt of assent, her wings slowly unfolding like enormous sails ready to catch the wind. They were a marvel in themselves, of impressive span, extending beyond what her eyes could grasp, with silver membranes shimmering with blue flecks at the slightest movement.

The cavern filled with the sound of wings beating and a powerful creaking beneath them, resonating like a gentle thunder. She held on tightly, feeling a tingle of anticipation.

With a sublime thrust, Silverwing flew out of the entrance and soared into the open sky.

The wind whipped against her face, but rather than being bothersome, it felt like a liberating caress. The horizon stretched before them in endless splendor. She let the adrenaline and exhilaration flood her veins.

From the heights, Dragonstone looked even more magnificent, all merging into a visual symphony that took her breath away. She felt part of something much larger than herself, and as they flew, every fear and doubt seemed to evaporate.

They left everything far behind. She leaned forward, feeling the cool breeze caress her face and play with her hair, undoing her braids and freeing her curls while she held tightly.

“Aderī!” she shouted.

They climbed even higher and faster, passing through the clouds. And there, at the boundary between land and sky, the dragon roared with a joy and power that reverberated in the heavens like an echo of her own cries of happiness. 

It was a sound of triumph and unity, an announcement to the world that they were now an unstoppable force.

As she adjusted to the rhythm of flight, she allowed the tension in her hands to relax, letting the moment envelop her completely.

The feeling of freedom was indescribable, as if she had been released from the chains of the earthly world to explore the celestial realms. 

Silverwing soared with the regal grace of a sovereign over her domain, her wings beating with a powerful and confident rhythm that spoke of absolute mastery and majesty.

She descended gently towards the coast, giving her time to steady herself. Then she flew so close to the water that she could feel the mist on her face and fill her lungs with fresh, salty air. The waves crashed against the rocks, sending bright splashes in all directions, just as they had whenever she had seen them before.

They circled around the castle, their shadows casting over the walls and towers. The guards and residents of the castle looked up in awe, gazing at the magnificent figure of the dragon and her new rider, a sight not seen since the times of the good queen.

The dragon ascended once more, spiraling up into the sky before diving into a thrilling descent as she cried out with excitement.

“Ninkiot!” her voice carried by the wind.

With a gentle landing, Silverwing descended onto the shore, her powerful legs sinking into the sand as the waves gently lapped around her.

Carefully, she dismounted, her legs trembling slightly from the excitement of the flight and her heart pounding, almost wanting to escape her chest. She stroked the dragon’s neck, whispering “Kirimvose” as she walked across the wet sand. 

As she reached her front, the solemn creature lowered her head, large eyes watching her attentively again, strengthening the bond between them beyond mere duty or tradition. With that gesture, she allowed her to lean against her forehead again, a clear sign of acceptance, an indication that she had chosen her as her rider. 

She closed her eyes, letting tears of joy flow freely. She tried to embrace the sturdy neck, and though she could not wrap around it, she felt the powerful breath vibrating under her arms.

On the beach, they remained still, enjoying the tranquility that followed the journey. The rhythmic lullaby of the waves and the warm glow of the setting sun created an atmosphere of serenity. Her life had taken a definitive turn, finding in the silver dragon not only a rider-dragon relationship but a faithful and powerful ally, and a sacred bond between two souls, a reflection of her own spirit.

As the sun slowly slid below the horizon, painting the sky with fiery reds and purple hues, they watched together the vast ocean stretching before them.

Thus, enveloped by the twilight that wrapped the world in a soft dusk, they sealed their bond with a silent promise, a tacit oath of eternal loyalty and companionship.

As the sun bid farewell with its last glimmer of light, she prepared to return to the castle, but not before giving the dragon one last affectionate stroke. As she turned, she noticed a figure at the entrance between the rocks: it was Jace, his eyes wide with amazement at what he had just witnessed. Seeing him, her smile widened even more, and she ran towards him.

“You did it!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. She nodded with a joyful laugh, and he greeted her with open arms, lifting her and spinning her in the air.

“This is... it's truly amazing!” When he set her down, he planted a kiss on her forehead and hugged her tightly. “We must celebrate” he declared enthusiastically.

“I do not wish to make Rhaena feel left out” she replied, still a bit concerned about her sister.

“Are you serious? You have just claimed a dragon, and you want it to go unnoticed?” Jace looked at her incredulously. “This is monumental.” She laughed, and taking his hand, she dragged him towards the castle.

“We shall celebrate our nameday on the morrow, and, quietly, this as well” she said, their voices echoing between the stone walls on the way to the castle.

“Would you carry me? I feel as my legs might give out any moment” she asked, and Jace chuckled softly, bending down so she could climb

With a small leap, she rested on his back, feeling the security and strength of her twin. “We need to have a saddle made. Although, I must admit, seeing you fly without one was impressive.”

She leaned forward, whispering near his ear: “I felt free, like it was the most natural thing.”

“It will be even better with a proper saddle” he said, nodding to himself. She laughed. She had enjoyed it that way, but she knew they would feel more at ease knowing she had something to hold on to.

Both Daemon and Baela were at Driftmark, so it was just the two of them, their mother, Joffrey, Luke, and Rhaena.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed. When the doors of the hall where they used to have supper swung wide open, and Jace set her down on the floor, she was greeted by a wave of emotions and smiling faces.

Rhaenyra was the first to approach, her eyes filled with pride and joy. “I’m so happy for you, my love” she said with a radiant smile, hugging her tightly. “I knew she was meant for you.”

Her siblings, with admiration in their eyes, surrounded her, congratulating her.

However, among them all, one stood out. Despite being the only one without a dragon, her face reflected genuine happiness for her achievement. Rhaena approached with a warm smile, her eyes shining.

“I knew you’d make it someday” Rhaena said, hugging her tightly.

She felt a deep sense of gratitude and love. Gently stroking Rhaena’s back, she responded with empathy: “Your time will come as well, I am certain of it. You’re strong and brave, and your dragon is waiting for you, just as mine did for me.”

Rhaena nodded, her eyes filled with determination. “I know” she said, with unwavering faith.

She felt a wave of pride for the younger sister, whose resilience and hope were admirable. “And when that moment comes,” she added with a smile, “I will be the first to celebrate it with you.”

She had been fraught with anxiety, and the soothing sensation of flying alongside her cherished dragon was her only respite. The thought of possibly withdrawing from the impending journey loomed over her, yet deep down, she knew she couldn’t evade it forever. Before the moon could wane, she found herself walking toward the main courtyard, where the dragons and their riders were busily preparing for the upcoming journey.

The festivities were still some time away, but her mother had decided to travel ahead of time, as news of the king’s declining health had reached, and she wanted to spend more time by his side.

In the bustling courtyard, Daemon, commanding the attention of all around him, stood beside Caraxes. His authoritative voice cut through the air as he directed those who would remain behind at the castle. The earlier departure of the other servants had ensured that every detail in King’s Landing was meticulously prepared for their arrival, leaving nothing to chance.

Jace and Luke were checking the straps and harnesses of Vermax and Arrax, while Baela and Rhaena were already mounted on Moondancer, as was her mother on Syrax.

Her youngest brother was especially excited, bouncing from side to side, eager for his first flight. It had taken considerable coaxing from both him and her to convince Rhaenyra to grant permission for them to travel together on dragonback.

“Silverwing looks magnificent!” Joffrey exclaimed. “I can’t wait to fly with her.” She smiled at his joy.

A few days before, she had introduced them. She knew her dragon was known for her gentleness, but she still needed to make sure she felt comfortable.

Silverwing had a new saddle, all black with the Targaryen heraldry in silver, as well as other details, in her honor. 

She mounted first to secure everything. The dragon braced herself well against the ground to assist in the little one’s mounting, who, with the agility of youth, had no trouble getting on. He settled in front of her, his face full of awe.

“Are you ready?” she asked with a smile, observing the excitement on his face, before adjusting both their harnesses.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Once everyone was ready, Silverwing led the flight.

The journey was an incredible experience. Both Joffrey and she were delighted with everything they saw. He, marveling at the views for the first time, and she, still awestruck by the beauty of flying over the vast expanse of the realm.

The trip took less time than she had expected, and not enough to fully accept what was to come. Seeing King’s Landing after so long was strange. Though she didn’t wish to return, her heart was melancholic. It was pleasant to see it again after such a long time, and from a different angle.

From afar, she spotted the enormous shape of Vhagar, who, too large to enter the Dragonpit, was sleeping on the meadow. Once close, she stirred, curious about the visit, and when Silverwing landed, they exchanged friendly roars.

The dragon keepers, those who had been there the longest, had informed her of Silverwing’s fondness for freedom, and she intended to respect it. Unlike the others, she would allow her to rest freely on the green of Rhaenys’s hill.

Joffrey’s mouth was open, amazed by the imposing dragon, as he had never seen her before. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at this.

“Do you think Tyraxes will grow that big?” He asked, his eyes filled with dreams and hope.

“I think Tyraxes will grow even bigger, my dear” she replied with a smile.

Once they were on the ground, she took her little brother's hand, and after thanking Silverwing for a good flight and wishing her rest, they began to walk toward where their family and the carriages were waiting, ready to travel to the Red Keep.

Joffrey, as curious as ever, kept asking her about Vhagar, and she happily responded, delighted that he shared her interests.

“Vhagar is the oldest and largest” she explained as they walked. “She has seen many battles and served many brave riders.”

“Who is her rider now?” he asked, his tone full of wonder.

“Prince Aemond, our uncle” she replied, gently squeezing his hand. It had been a long time since she had spoken his name out loud.

When they reunited with their family, her mother hugged them as if they hadn’t seen each other in months, ensuring that they were well and ready for the next stage of the journey. Then they split up, with Rhaenyra, Jace, Joffrey, and her on one side, and Daemon, Baela, Rhaena, and Luke on the other.

Rhaenyra took her hand in the carriage, aware of the significance it held for her. “Everything will be alright, my love” she murmured gently.

Her siblings, peering out the windows with a mixture of curiosity and wonder, marveled at the sights they hadn't had the chance to explore.

“I know, mother” she replied, her voice tinged with both gratitude and a hint of nervous anticipation.

When they passed through the gates and were formally presented at the castle entrance, the door opened. It was their mother who went out first, followed by everyone else. Her fears and desires came true simultaneously, as he was conspicuously absent, leaving a hollow space where his presence should have been.

The king stood there, a shadow of his former self—his features more weary and his steps slower, but his eyes sparkled with a radiant joy. He had a beaming smile and nearly dropped his cane in his eagerness to embrace his daughter.

“It’s been so long” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

They stayed embraced while the others, except for Daemon, offered a courtesy to the queen. She merely greeted from the stairs, her smile a mere flicker that failed to reach her eyes.

The greeting between Alicent and Rhaenyra was tense, unlike the warm embrace everyone else received from the king, who then continued chatting with his brother.

They then headed to their usual floor and dispersed to their respective rooms.

When she arrived, Lyra was already starting to prepare a hot bath. Seeing each other, they smiled, and she walked over to hug her.

“Thank the gods I was already preparing the bath” Lyra said with a smile.

She chuckled at the comment. Perhaps it was for the best that she hadn't seen him, given the state she was in.

Inside, she wrestled with conflicting desires: a part of her wished to never see him again, while another longed to see him immediately, to finally unburden herself from the weight she carried.

As she wandered around the room, her gaze lingered on the familiar surroundings. Once grand and spacious, it now felt confined compared to her quarters on Dragonstone. The room seemed to stand still in time, every piece of furniture and every detail evoking a rush of memories that tangled with her turbulent emotions. Despite her efforts to appear composed, inside, she felt a storm of nostalgia and unease.

“It’s so weird” she murmured as she took in the unchanged space.

“Yes,” the lady agreed, her tone light and soothing, “I think you took all its warmth with you.” Lyra gestured toward the now steaming bath, indicating that it was ready.

She began to undress. As she sank into the bathtub, allowing the warmth to dissipate the accumulated nerves, she relaxed her tense body. Each drop of water seemed to carry away a piece of her anxiety. She let out a sigh of relief.

The soothing scent of rose oil provided a brief respite from the day’s intense emotions, although her mind continued to spin.

Lyra, with the familiarity that only close friendship could offer, and understanding the emotional rollercoaster she was going through, placed the garments on a chair near the tub and approached with a warm smile.

“How are you feeling?” Lyra asked, her voice full of concern and empathy, helping her wash her hair.

She sighed, contemplating how to respond. “I feel as though I am caught between two worlds” she replied softly, gazing at the steam rising from the water. She began to surrender to the soothing sensation of hands working through her head as she closed her eyes.

“It is quite natural to experience such feelings. You have endured a great deal, and returning to a place so full of memories can indeed be quite challenging.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I merely wish to rest before facing everything.”

When she finished, she stood up and stepped out of the bath, taking the hand the lady extended. Lyra wrapped her in soft towels to dry her off and guided her to the mirror next to the window.

From there, they could see the sea, choppy, as if it too was aware of the return of its lost inhabitant and the reunion that would soon follow.

“Do you want to attend supper, or would you prefer to remain here?” Lyra asked gently.

“I believe I will stay here,” she replied, “I’m too fatigued.”

“Would you like to be left alone, or might you appreciate some company?”

“I’d love your company” she said. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate something simple to eat.”

Lyra nodded. “You know,” she said while helping her into the silk gown, “the first days are always the hardest. However, with time, matters tend to settle.”

“I hope so” she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “It’s strange to be back here. I am pleased, yet at the same time…” She sighed, at a loss for words.

“I understand” Lyra said, giving her a small smile.

She nodded, grateful for the support. Lyra left the room to fulfill her request, and in the meantime, she sat in a chair near the window, watching the twilight darken the sky over King’s Landing. The view gave her a mix of sadness and anger, reminding her of what had been.

Soon, Lyra returned with a carefully prepared tray, laden with simple delicacies, and placed it on a small table near the window. She then lit some candles, creating a cozy and calm atmosphere.

“Is there anything you’d particularly like?” Lyra asked as she settled in.

“Everything appears perfect” she said, serving herself some bread and cheese. Although the exhaustion was evident in her eyes and the tension didn’t fully dissipate, she felt a bit more at peace with each bite and every exchanged word.

Finally, she looked at Lyra, trying to mark her nervousness. “Have you seen him around in recent days?”

Lyra frowned slightly, thinking about her recent observations. “Yes, I have encountered him a few times. He seemed quite tense, always immersed in his training.” She looked down at her food.

“People change, just as circumstances do” Lyra said, offering her a sympathetic glance. After a thoughtful pause, she added: “Perhaps there’s a chance to clear the air, understand where things stand.”

“I’m not sure I wish to speak to someone who has seemingly disregarded my existence for years” she admitted with a sigh, her voice heavy with hurt. She set her fork aside, the weight of her emotions apparent. “The very thought of it makes me ache.”

Lyra nodded. “I know” she said. Then she asked, “Perhaps discussing what you intend to wear tomorrow might serve as a distraction.”

A faint smile touched her lips as she considered her wardrobe. The conversation drifted to fashion choices and the trivialities of attire, Lyra’s questions drawing her into a more relaxed state.

“Thank you for listening, Lyra” she said. They had always been close, but with each passing year, they seemed to grow closer. The trust had deepened, and they could talk about other things. Now, Lyra was more than just a lady-in-waiting; she had been a witness to the highs and lows of her life, a confidante who understood more than words could express.

“I shall always be here for you” Lyra said sincerely. “Now, try to unwind. Tomorrow will be a new day and, with any fortune, it may provide greater clarity regarding how to proceed.” She nodded. The journey, though short, had been tiring.

As Lyra took the tray to remove it, she went to her bed to lie down. She tried to filter out the noise of the city and focus on the murmur of the sea. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the comforting familiarity of those sounds, trying to find an anchor amid the uncertainty surrounding her.

Her thoughts continued to revolve around what tomorrow would bring. The encounter with him after so long was inevitable, and although she had tried to prepare for the moment, she couldn’t avoid feeling a mix of emotions that kept her awake. Her mind replayed the possible words and gestures they would exchange.

Hours passed in a whisper of thoughts and sighs until she finally found sleep.

In Dragonstone, it was an uncommon event for the sun to shine in its full splendor, with no clouds to soften its rays. So, as soon as she felt the warmth of the first light of dawn filtering through her window, she began to blink awake, adjusting to the light. Lyra was already there, moving with the efficiency and grace of someone who knew every corner, preparing the outfit they had planned the day before. When she saw her stirring in bed, she smiled and handed her a cup.

"Good morrow" Lyra greeted softly, her voice as serene as the morning breeze. "I brought you some water."

She took the cup with a grateful nod, savoring the coolness of the water as it invigorated her senses and prepared her for the day ahead. Once finished, she got up, stretching her sleepy body and trying to focus on mundane tasks to avoid thinking about him.

Upon arriving at Dragonstone, she had clung to her old routines with a meticulousness born of habit, one that had only changed on the night of his nameday, many years ago. Every day, she had adhered to a strict regimen—her hair tied neatly, every curl perfectly in place, and light blue garments worn in honor of her late father, setting herself apart from her family. 

It might have been her attempt to hold on to his memory, a tribute, or a desperate effort to maintain an identity she felt slipping away.

But the wildness of her new home had weaved its magic around her. Over time, she rediscovered her joy and sense of self. She was a Targaryen, proud and strong. The light blue was replaced, no longer confined to the past, she had embraced the rich hues of black, red and silver. Her hair, once restrained, now flowed freely, a declaration of her freedom.

Lyra helped her into the black dress they had chosen. It was elegant but not too striking, fitting for the occasion. As she adjusted the final details, Lyra's approving gaze and kind words made her smile. "You look astonishing."

"Thank you, Lyra" she said, feeling a wave of confidence wash over her. 

"Ready?" Lyra asked, her voice soft yet filled with encouragement as she approached the door. Taking a deep breath, she nodded in response.

As they left the room, arms linked, the atmosphere in the castle was bustling, as always.

She and Lyra walked through the hallways, heading towards the hall. The path seemed both eternal and fleeting, each step bringing her closer to the crucial moment she had imagined so many times.

As they approached, the echo of conversations grew louder, mingled with the buzz of anticipation filling the air.

"It's exciting, is it not?" Lyra commented, her eyes scanning the lively scene around them.

"Yes, it is" she replied, "and a little overwhelming."

"You will be just fine" Lyra assured, gently squeezing her arm in support before taking her leave.

As the doors opened for her, she looked up, instinctively searching for him, but he was not yet present, so she entered with a bit more relaxation, her steps steadier.

She walked with a composed grace toward the family table, where conversation and laughter were already in full swing. She paused to greet each person in turn, exchanging smiles and brief words. 

Two vacant seats awaited between Daemon and Baela. They began speaking softly, sharing updates and laughter. 

Soon, her other two siblings arrived hand in hand. Joffrey, with his contagious cheer, gave her a warm hug before heading to his place, and Jace took the empty seat next to her.

“Thank you for abandoning me at supper last night” he teased, a mock annoyance coloring his tone.

“My apologies” she said, placing a quick kiss on his cheek that made him roll his eyes in exaggerated irritation. “But Luke was there.”

“Just look at him” Jace said, nodding towards Luke, who was engrossed in animated conversation with Rhaena. The sight made her smile, reassured by how Rhaena seemed just as engaged and entertained as Luke.

A few minutes passed, and at the king’s signal, breakfast began to be served. At that moment, the remaining people arrived, and the murmur in the room paused for a moment.

Everyone immediately rose to greet the queen as she entered, flanked by three of her children. Her heart raced, and her legs felt as though they were encased in lead.

Aemond followed closely behind the queen, impossible to ignore. His towering height and commanding demeanor made him stand out. As their eyes met across the room, the world seemed to blur, leaving only the two of them in focus.

She couldn't tear her gaze away from him. Each breath felt heavy with the weight of years and memories. Aemond's eyes locked onto hers as he approached, but upon reaching the table, he turned his gaze away with studied coldness.

Alicent was the only one to greet aloud, while the others simply took their places on the opposite side of the table, and everyone proceeded to sit down again. Her mother leaned back slightly in her chair to see her better. When she felt her eyes on her, she gave a reassuring smile, a gesture of gratitude for her unspoken support.

The servants resumed their duties, continuing to bring breakfast.

Despite the attempt to focus on the meal, her eyes kept drifting back to Aemond. It was as if some magnetic force drew her to him—part of her yearned to seek solace and fall into his embrace, weep uncontrollably on his chest, letting her tears speak for her, while another part wanted to unleash her frustration, confront him with all the anger she'd accumulated over the years. In either case, she would have asked him why.

His face betrayed nothing; there was a mask of stoicism that revealed no emotion, impenetrable. The round-cheeked boy she once knew had gone, replaced by a tall, slender man with chiseled, sharp features and an almost intimidating, forbidding aura.

His left eye, still covered by a patch, did little to diminish his striking beauty, which had grown darker and more enigmatic over time, and that drew her inexorably.

The turmoil within her was intense, stirred by his very presence, leaving her feeling both drawn to him and pushed away. It was bothering her that he always managed to evoke such deep and contradictory emotions.

The breakfast continued in a strained blend of courtesy and underlying tension, but her mind kept circling around him. She could barely manage a few bites, her stomach churning with unsettled nerves.

“And how do you find life in Dragonstone?” Her grandfather, ever the gracious host, broke the silence with a kind tone. “You know you will always have a place here.”

“We find it most agreeable” Jace responded with genuine enthusiasm. “And the dragons do as well. They seem to thrive there, growing faster and stronger.” She smiled at her twin's comment, appreciating the truth in his words about the unique charm of Dragonstone.

“I heard the princess has officially become a dragonrider” the king remarked with evident admiration.

“Indeed, my king. And to be truthful, Silverwing has claimed me more than I have claimed her” she said, her smile widening at the fond memory.

“The mount of the Good Queen Alysanne” he said with a note of respect. “It suits you well.” Although she knew she would never be a queen, his words touched her deeply. Jace gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As breakfast concluded, the group began to rise, and the servants appeared to clear the table, signaling the end of the meal and the beginning of the day's activities.

Sorry for the little to nothing of Aemond! And I know nothing of High Valyrian, sorry for any mistakes!

Māzīs: Come.

Nyke kivio naejot rigle ao: I promise to honor you.

Sōvēs, Gēliotīkun: Fly, Silverwing.

Aderī: Quickly.

Ninkiot: Land.

Kirimvose: Thank you.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @oh-you-mean-me @squidscottjeans @fossface

[ilovecatfr]

Hogwarts shifting motivation

Common rooms Motivation

Genuinely informative~ even teachers need permission to get into the common room (unless they are the head of the house)

Slytherin

Slytherin common rooms are a good place for curious aquatic animals& creatures

{Example: mermaids coming to tap on class}

Imagine the afternoon light that gonna come through the water and how it gonna look

It the biggest common room

Being closest to potions class

There’s a hidden window that looks out into the depths of the Black Lake, allowing students to watch Grindylows and the Giant Squid pass by. Sometimes, an eerie glow from underwater plants illuminates the room at night.

The Serpent’s Whisper: If you listen carefully near the fireplace, you can hear a hissing sound—a remnant of an old Parseltongue spell cast by Salazar Slytherin himself. Some say it whispers advice to ambitious students

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Elegant and mysterious, with emerald-green lamps casting an eerie, calming glow. The room has a cold, sleek beauty, with high-backed leather chairs, silver accents, and tapestries depicting famous Slytherins and legendary beasts.

Furnishings: Green velvet armchairs and polished silver tables are arranged around a central fireplace carved with serpentine details. There are also large glass cases displaying rare magical objects collected by past Slytherin alumni.

Motivational Vibe: The Slytherin common room feels like a home for the ambitious and resourceful. It inspires cleverness, self-confidence, and power—a place for those unafraid to stand out and make their mark.

Hufflepuff

That common room is closest to kitchen so sneaking in to get snacks

hufflepuffs are known for having good weed (shifters confirmed)

When someone tries to enter the common room and press a wrong barrier they get covered in vinegar / to get in you need to tap barrier in rhythm of "Helga Hufflepuff"

A rumor has it that when a room is quiet enough you can hear humming~ a spell Helga Hufflepuff casted centuries ago to bring calmness to her house

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Warm and earthy, with lots of natural light filtering in through circular windows that open up to the Hogwarts grounds. It has a cottage-like charm, filled with lush plants, earthy tones, and the smell of freshly baked bread.

Furnishings: Soft, overstuffed sofas and cushions are scattered around. The tables are made from reclaimed wood, polished to a warm honey glow. Herbology books and gardening tools are kept on hand for anyone interested in plant care.

Motivational Vibe: The Hufflepuff common room is all about kindness, resilience, and loyalty. It’s perfect if you’re looking for a family-like environment where everyone supports each other. You’ll feel nurtured, grounded, and at peace.

Gryffindor

Imagine the fat lady’s joke every time before you enter and even riddles occasionally

Being Dumbledore favourite lmao

The secret door to Astronomy Tower~ There’s a narrow stairwell hidden behind a tapestry of Godric Gryffindor that leads up to the Astronomy Tower. It’s a favorite spot for stargazing on clear nights.

If you press the right spot on lions statue, a roar will fill the common room. Usually used before Quidditch matches and wins.

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Warm, cozy, and golden. Rich, ruby-red carpets cover the stone floors, and tapestries of legendary Gryffindors and courageous battles adorn the walls. A crackling fireplace is almost always lit, making it feel like a comforting, eternal hearth

Furnishings: Armchairs with plush cushions, covered in deep scarlet, are arranged in small clusters, perfect for gathering with friends. A large, golden lion statue stands near the entrance as a symbol of Gryffindor bravery.

Motivational Vibe: Gryffindor common room feels like a constant cheerleader, pushing you to be brave, adventurous, and loyal. It’s filled with energy, perfect for anyone who loves challenges and dreams of leaving a legacy.

Revenclaw

Imagine it being late at night and you are watching the celling as it has the same effects as great hall celling

Imagine seeing owls flying outside your window

Every window view being absolutely beautiful

If you recite a specific incantation, a spiral staircase appears near the bookshelf, leading to a hidden observatory. It’s the best spot in Hogwarts to view meteor showers or auroras. They call it the staircase of stars.

Rumor has it that a spellbook hidden centuries ago is still somewhere within the common room’s library shelves. Legend says only the wisest Ravenclaw can uncover its secrets.

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Elegant and airy, with tall, arched windows that give a panoramic view of the mountains and lake. The room is decorated in hues of silver, blue, and soft ivory, with a ceiling enchanted to resemble the night sky.

Furnishings: Sleek, polished wood tables for studying, with quills and inkpots always available. Softly glowing blue and white lamps cast an ethereal light over the room, making it feel like a dreamy nightscape.

Motivational Vibe: Ravenclaw common room is a heaven for those who love to think, dream, and explore the mysteries of magic. It’s an inspiring environment for those who strive for wisdom, originality, and creativity.

{these are from my dr and from I found online- so it may not be canon but feel free to script}

[starrynightmuse]

Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond. 

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!” 

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history. 

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue. 

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius." 

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class. 

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects. 

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget. 

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —” 

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity. 

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.” 

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles. 

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you. 

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.” 

“Do you study mathematics?” 

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.” 

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?" 

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?" 

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last. 

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.  

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat. 

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch. 

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.” 

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.” 

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."  

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library. 

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.” 

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf. 

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.” 

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly. 

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement. 

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond. 

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.” 

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.  

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls. 

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said. 

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

[laughterliberator]

I don’t think lees understand the power they have in saying

“Tickle me.”

In a generation that emphasizes the value of consent better than any previous generation, hearing someone ask us to tickle them is like a breath of fresh air. A cool drink of water. All questions, all mysteries, all games go out the window because we know we’re wanted.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you fluster a ler.

[hezuart]

LN Channel Change AU Sequel: “Seven” {1} {2} {3} {here/final}

And they lived happily ever after. Or did they? We've established our main characters Mono (TV/space-time) and Six (Soul Sucking) have strange supernatural powers. I wanted Seven to have one too. (Hydrokinesis aka water bending)

Notes for how I came up with Seven's powers and the deeper meaning behind his interaction with Mono:

1. Each child has nightmare prophecies (something to do with Mono's time loop?)  at the beginning of their stories. Six's is the Lady, Mono's is the door that leads to the Thin Man, and Seven's is being pulled underwater. Six and Mono's nightmare visions are fulfilled at the end of their stories; revealing that the thing they dreamed about, they essentially become or usurp.  Seven's differs. His dream resolves in act 1 and he kills the Granny, the creature assumed to be the one pulling him underwater in his nightmare. But what if Seven's dream prophecy was still valid... even post-Granny? Being dragged underwater... for a different fate?

2. Seven is the only main cast character shown with the ability to swim. 3. "Seven Seas" anyone? Water is a symbol of purification & life, hence, Seven gains his new powers after he survived and Mono broke the timeline loop to start fresh. "Washing it away" so to say. 4. Water is a liquid; passive in nature, but powerful in circumstance. Seven is kind and sneaky but kills the Granny when continuously attacked and threatened by her. He does the same to the Octopus monster.

5. Water molecules have adhesion and cohesion, meaning water likes to stick to itself, and stick to other things. Seven has an attachment to Nomes. He is always drawn to other people and other creatures, wanting to help them. His belief is that survival chances are higher amidst a group. Water is also known for containing life, no matter how strange or deep, such as ocean fish that often travel in schools/packs often to confuse or fight off predators, thus, another reference to Seven's new life, and his teamwork with Nomes and Mono.

6. Seven is often in fandom depicted by a circle. A water droplet. 7. Seven collects flotsam; typically boat debris, but in this case, bottled messages that come from the sea. Yet another connection to water.

All this indicates heavy implication and well-fitting power to bestow hydrokinesis onto Seven. I was inspired by the INSIDE game's drowning chapter and Stanley and Stanford's secret boat hide-out on the beach from Gravity Falls. Which is why I have selected Mono, Seven, and all their future friends to a lovely and sunny (future) beach house, far away from everything they've suffered. And living near the largest body of water on the planet with a kid with hydrokinesis? ...Certainly has its perks!

But Seven gaining powers is important to not only their survival but also him. He was still nervous about Mono. He knew Mono was very powerful and mysterious. In more ways than one. Mono is stronger than him and can also use telekinesis on objects on the beach. He's a better food hunter and seems more like a leader. Seven also likes to lead, but he felt outshined by Mono. (I don't portray that well in my comic) Seven is weaker and defenseless. His only shining quality in comparison is his ability to swim, but even that can only get him so far. He risks his life for his Nome friends and loses his life doing so. Or so he thought. By a miracle, his powers over water awaken. He drains the monster of its water, beaching it. He walks to Mono in a new light. It's a new him. He holds up his hands as if to say "See? I'm like you now." He's leveled the playing field. (It also helps that he now has jurisdiction over power Mono cannot interact with) Now they are truly equal. Two kings; one of land, one of sea, both ruling the island in equal standing. Seven will never again feel like a burden left behind. (Seven's powers activating also has something to do with the fact he bit the Octopus creature to save the Nome. Mono and Six both consume their powerful prophesized enemies to gain some of their power, if they didn't already have some before. Seven biting into the Octopus's flesh and unknowingly consuming some of it may have jumpstarted his power deep within him, on top of him encountering Mono; supernatural kid extraordinaire that brought him through a tower wormhole to escape the city)

~~~

A threequel is planned, and maybe the last addition to this series, but the next one is not fully fleshed out yet so it may be another year until I can really touch upon it yet. Otherwise, hope you guys enjoyed!

[reaper2187]

Lady dimitrescu x female reader

The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying roses. The old manor, once a testament to opulent elegance, now stood shrouded in an unsettling silence, its windows like vacant eyes staring into the encroaching darkness. You, a seasoned adventurer with a thirst for the unknown, had ventured into this forgotten corner of Transylvania in pursuit of a legend – the story of Lady Dimitrescu, a vampire of unparalleled beauty and chilling power.

The locals spoke of her with hushed whispers, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and morbid fascination. They told tales of her towering stature, her crimson gown, and her haunting, melodic voice. They warned of her insatiable hunger and the chilling cold that clung to her presence. You, however, weren't deterred. You were drawn to the mystery, the allure of the unknown.

As you stepped across the threshold, a shiver ran down your spine. The air inside was thick with an oppressive stillness, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip of water from a broken pipe. The dust motes danced in the faint beams of moonlight that filtered through the grimy windows, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to writhe and twist.

The silence was broken by the soft click of your boots on the polished marble floor as you navigated the labyrinthine corridors. The once-ornate paintings now hung askew, their subjects staring down at you with vacant eyes, their faces frozen in expressions of eternal sorrow. You felt a prickle of unease, a sense of being watched.

Suddenly, a door creaked open at the end of the hall, revealing a grand staircase bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. A figure stood at the top, silhouetted against the light, her form impossibly tall and graceful. As she descended, you caught a glimpse of her face – pale and flawless, with eyes that seemed to hold both the promise of heaven and the threat of hell.

"Welcome," she said, her voice a melodious whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "I've been expecting you."

Her name was Lady Dimitrescu, and she was everything the legends had promised and more. Her beauty was undeniable, a captivating blend of elegance and power. Her eyes, a deep, hypnotic blue, held an ancient wisdom that seemed to pierce through your very soul.

She extended a hand, her long, slender fingers adorned with glittering rings. "I am honoured to have you in my home," she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Please, come in. Let us have a chat."

You hesitated, your intuition screaming at you to flee. But the allure of her presence, the undeniable power that emanated from her, held you captive. You took her hand, feeling the cool, smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

"Thank you, Lady Dimitrescu," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "It is an honor to meet you."

She led you through the manor, her movements graceful and fluid despite her imposing height. The rooms were a testament to her past wealth and extravagance – opulent furniture, shimmering chandeliers, and walls adorned with intricate tapestries. Yet, the air was heavy with a sense of decay, of a life that had been lived and lost.

As you explored the manor, you learned more about Lady Dimitrescu's history. She had been a noblewoman, a woman of great beauty and intellect, until a tragic accident had robbed her of her humanity. She had been transformed into a vampire, cursed with an insatiable thirst for blood and a life that stretched on for centuries.

She spoke of her loneliness, of the centuries she had spent trapped in this decaying manor, surrounded by the remnants of a life she could never reclaim. She spoke of her daughters, three beautiful and deadly creatures who shared her curse and her loneliness.

You listened, captivated by her story, drawn to her vulnerability despite the terror that pulsed through your veins. You saw a woman trapped in a cage of her own making, a prisoner of her own immortality.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to her, to her beauty, her intelligence, and the undeniable power that she exuded. You felt a strange mix of fear and fascination, a desire to understand her, to unravel the secrets that lay hidden beneath her alluring facade.

You spent the next few days exploring the manor, learning more about Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters. You discovered hidden passages, secret chambers, and a world of darkness that stretched far beyond the confines of the manor itself. You witnessed the horrors that Lady Dimitrescu had inflicted on those who had dared to cross her, the bloodstains that marked the walls, the whispers of terror that echoed through the corridors.

But you also saw glimpses of the woman beneath the monster, the woman who yearned for connection, for love, for a life that had been stolen from her. You saw the sadness in her eyes, the longing that etched itself onto her face.

One night, as you sat with Lady Dimitrescu in the grand library, you confessed your feelings. You told her that you were drawn to her, that you saw the woman beneath the monster, the woman who deserved to be loved.

She looked at you, her honey eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and something that might have been hope. "You see me," she said, her voice a soft sigh. "You see the woman I once was, the woman I can never be again."

"I do," you said, reaching out to touch her hand. "And I love you, Lady Dimitrescu."

She pulled her hand away, her expression hardening. "You cannot love a monster," she said, her voice laced with pain. "You cannot love something that is dead."

"I do," you insisted, your voice firm. "I love you for who you are, for the woman you were, and for the woman you could still be."

She stared at you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours. Then, she sighed, a deep, mournful sound that seemed to echo through the empty halls of the manor. "I have not felt this… this warmth in centuries," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

You reached for her again, this time she didn't pull away. You took her hand, feeling the cool, smooth skin beneath your fingertips. It was a moment of connection, a spark of hope in the darkness.

But the darkness was never far away. The manor was a living entity, a creature of shadows and secrets. The whispers of the dead echoed through the corridors, the scent of blood hung heavy in the air.

One night, a group of villagers, armed with torches and pitchforks, stormed the manor. They had come to hunt Lady Dimitrescu, to rid the world of the monster that haunted their nightmares.

You fought alongside Lady Dimitrescu, your love for her fueling your courage, your determination to protect her. But the villagers were relentless, their hatred burning like a wildfire.

In the end, the villagers were victorious. They drove Lady Dimitrescu back into the shadows, leaving her wounded and alone. You were captured, imprisoned in the depths of the manor, your heart breaking at the thought of losing her.

But Lady Dimitrescu had not given up. She had found a way to escape, to break free from the chains that bound her. She returned to the manor, her eyes burning with a cold, vengeful fire.

She slaughtered the villagers, their screams echoing through the halls of the manor, their blood staining the floors crimson. She stood over their bodies, her face a mask of fury, her eyes filled with the pain of centuries.

She turned to you, her gaze searching yours. "You are safe now," she said, her voice a low growl. "No one will ever hurt you again."

You looked at her, at the monster she had become, the monster she was forced to be. You felt a pang of sadness, a sense of loss. The woman you had loved, the woman you had seen in her eyes, was gone. In her place stood a creature of darkness, a creature driven by rage and despair.

You knew that you could never be with her, not in this life, not in any life. But you also knew that you would never forget her, the woman who had captured your heart, the woman who had shown you the beauty of darkness and the darkness of beauty.

You left the manor, leaving behind the echoes of her screams, the scent of blood, and the memory of a love that had been lost. You walked into the sunrise, carrying the weight of her story, the weight of her pain, the weight of her love.

You knew that you would never be the same again. You had seen the darkness, and the darkness had seen you. And in the depths of that darkness, you had found a love that would last a lifetime, a love that would haunt you forever

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: Can I get Dazai (BSD) with Prompt 70+205 NSFW please?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, blackmailing, manipulation, abuse of power, emotional gaslighting, guilt-tripping, clinginess, Dazai breaks into reader's apartment, sadism, masochism, suicide mentions, Dazai has scars underneath his bandages, mentions of self-harm, co-dependency, Nsfw, dry humping, f!reader

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78

Words: 15.3k

Prompt 70 + 205

It was a beautiful evening.

It was neither too warm nor too cold, there was a gentle breeze softly stroking your face and the whole sky was lit up in the warm colours of red, orange and gold as the sun slowly set in the distance.

Yes, everything considered it was a very beautiful evening. If only you wouldn’t have gotten lost, maybe this evening could have been even more enjoyable. But no, instead your little exploration had led you into the outskirts of the city and now you didn’t know how to get back to your apartment. You hadn’t familiarised yourself just yet with Yokohama and its infrastructure and streets, everything was still new and slightly overwhelming to you.

The only guidance you had was Google Maps yet you were running frighteningly low on battery, your current predicament getting worse and worse by the minute. Your footsteps got faster as you started hurrying, not keen on having your phone die out on you before you at least reached the street your apartment was in.

Soothing sounds of rushing water reached your ears as you reached a river, a small bridge built above the shores. Initially there was little to no attention you paid the scenery though, time a luxury you didn’t have in the face of your low battery.

You only spotted him from the corner of your eyes, the mysterious man standing close to the bridge railing. Chocolate brown hair, a long coat and bandages covering his neck and his arms.

All of a sudden your footsteps came to a halt, your eyes glued to the strange man.

It was unclear whether he had noticed you but simply ignored you or if he was so deeply immersed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t spotted you, his gaze focused on the river below the bridge.

Distant sounds of the nuzzling city of Yokohama, cars honking due to the busy evening traffic, the chirping of cicadas. All white noises as you found yourself wrapped inside strange emotions, a familiar ache in your chest as you watched him.

Your feet moved on their own before you even recognised it, one of your hands reaching out to gently grasp his sleeve. Only then did he finally turn around to you, a mild look of surprise on his face. It disappeared as quickly as it had emerged, an impish yet still quite charming grin on his face as he inspected your face.

“My, what a pleasant surprise to meet a pretty lady like you out here~ Can I help you with something?”

The ache was still there, somewhere deep within your chest as you observed his face for a few more seconds, your mind barely registering his question. Only when he lifted one of his eyebrows in slight wonder did you finally react, lifting up your phone where Google Maps was still opened.

“Do you know how I can get there?”

Brown eyes darted to the bright screen, his head leaning closer as he took a look at your phone before you spotted a look of realisation crossing his face.

“I do,” he hummed softly, brown orbs moving from the screen of your phone to your face, “Did you move here recently?”

His keen observation and correct assumption surprised you a bit and when you saw the corner of his lips twitching up in amusement you imagined that the surprise must have shown on your face.

“Welcome to Yokohama, pretty girl. I hope you’ll settle nicely in the city.”

You blinked a few times, the nickname he’d just called you by flustering you a tad bit before you muttered out a small “thanks”. The strange man on the other hand seemed to find amusement in your somewhat flustered state, a grin on his lips that had your heart clenching in melancholy and nostalgia.

“Can… Can you help me getting to my place?”

The words stumbled out of your lips before you could hold them back, your emotions guiding you more than your mind did. You just couldn’t help it.

Now it was his turn to appear somewhat caught-off-guard, his head tilting lightly to the side as brown eyes inspected you.

“You want me to help you?” he queried, pointing at himself and looking so comedically shocked that you wondered if he was trying to tease you in that moment.

“I do,” you replied as you put your phone back in your purse, noting with a sigh that you were done to 12%, “My phone is about to give up on me and as you correctly noted, I’m new in this city. I could need some guidance to find my way back to my place.”

He put one of his hands on his chin, his eyes closing as he feigned a thoughtful expression that made you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek. Yes, he was definitely teasing you right now.

“What if I say no?” he questioned you, his eyes reopening and staring into you directly as if curious to see how you would react as well as handle this potential rejection.

“Do you have anything else to do? Something more important than helping a poor damsel in distress right now who might get lost in such a big city after having grown up in the countryside?”

Your eyes couldn’t help but briefly land on the river as you challenged him, your voice firm and stubborn. You would not back down here. You couldn’t.

That’s when he squinted his eyes in amusement, brown orbs scintillating with a cat-like fascination as the brief glance you casted at the river didn’t go unnoticed by him. A warm chuckle escaped his chest, one that scratched a warm spot in your heart.

“Guilt-tripping a stranger to get what you want, hmm? You’re a ruthless thing, aren’t you?”

As he seemed to consider your arguments, you tried your best to hide the dwelling anticipation within your chest, the growing unease with each second he didn’t answer.

Only when he let out a long and most likely exaggerated sigh of defeat did you let out the breath you hadn’t even known that you had held in the first place.

“You know how to make a man feel guilty, don’t you? How could I deny you maiden in need without looking like a terrible man now?”

—-

“So you’re from Yamagata, huh? Is it nice over there?"

You glanced to your side where Dazai, as he had told you earlier on, walked, his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"It's a very peaceful and calm place," you began, tilting your head slightly up as you recalled your childhood and all the memories you'd left behind, "but because it is rather rural there weren't a whole lot of job opportunities you could choose from. I think most of my old classmates moved away after graduating school to search for a new life in other cities."

"Oh, is that so? Did some of them also move to Yokohama?"

"Not anyone that I know. Most of them went to Tokyo, some to Kyoto, Sapporo, Sendai, Osaka..."

You paused, stopped counting on your fingers as well as you tried to recall if you had missed listing another city you knew someone from your year had moved to. You couldn't recall anything though so you dropped your hand and shrugged lightly.

"That's about all that I remember at least."

"They grow up so fast, don't they?"

You arched one of your eyebrows as you watched Dazai sighing with feigned nostalgia as if he'd been there to watch your entire class growing up.

"You make it sound like you're a grandfather," was your reply, though there was a hint of amusement somewhere in your tone which he picked up on.

"Well, I do have a junior in my workplace who I have been mentoring a bit and to see him growing so much in comparison to when he first joined..." a proud sigh escaped his lips, his eyes closing as if he was reminiscing about said junior of his, "My little student has finally taken his first steps to become a grownup."

Gosh, he really was a dramatic one, wasn't he? You couldn't say that you didn't like that though.

"Are you sure that you're someone in your early twenties and not secretly a sappy old grandfather?"

"You think I'm old?" he gasped with played shock on his face, only eliciting another grin from you. He would have made an excellent performer in theatres though you doubted that he was one. His exaggerated and dramatic gestures and gestures would have been fitting nevertheless.

As the two of you turned around another corner you also suddenly realised that you knew where you were again. Thank goddess. You really had to memorise the streets around your block better because you doubted you'd bump into someone like Dazai every time you'd get lost.

The look of relief that broke out on your face as your gaze took in the familiar signs and buildings made Dazai chuckle a bit.

"Seems like the bird finally returned to her nest," he noted, halting his steps all whilst you continued walking for a bit before you turned around to him.

"Indeed," you agreed, "I think I'll find my way back home from here."

"Such a shame. And here I thought I could escort you back all the way to your apartment," he pouted though you were unsure if his disappointment was real or just another one of his common teasing and over the top reactions.

"Not today. Maybe another time," you replied cheekily, deciding to play a little bit back as you clasped your hands behind your back, "On another note though, thank you a lot for your help. Without you I would have ended up god knows where."

Your appreciation was sincere, something that seemed to catch Dazai by surprise. Or perhaps you just imagined the slight widening of his eyes before a practised smile appeared on his face, one of his hands scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"You give me too much credit. I only did what anyone else would have done in my position."

You let out a huff before you shook your head in amusement.

"It's the little things that count, don't you think so?"

You liked to think that the glint appearing in his eyes was one of appreciation as well for your little engagement with his own silly antics, something he probably wasn't used to.

"I guess so."

It was getting dark now, the lights of the city illuminating the place. Your battery was down to 9% but at least now you had nothing to worry about.

"As much as it pains me to speak those words, this is probably goodby-"

"Goodbye until the next time we bump into each other again."

You deliberately cut him off at the end of his sentence, asserting your own words before he could finish his own as your eyes rested expectantly on him.

Once again he gave you that mildly bewildered look before it made way for silent intrigue. Both of you shared a long look of silence, something wordlessly understood within that time of quietness, something that had his heart skipping a beat.

"Until the next time we meet each other again then, (y/n)."

Apparently satisfied with that reply you waved him one final time temporarily goodbye before you turned around and made your way back to your apartment, brown eyes following you until you were out of sight.

Intriguing. You were truly intriguing.

---

"Welcom-Dazai?!"

The obligatory greeting that you were required to give all customers who walked into the café you were working in quickly got stuck in your throat, instead replaced by a surprised shout that had the heads of other clients turn around.

Embarrassment and shame quickly heated up your cheeks as you quickly bowed a couple of times in their direction, muttering a few apologies before you cleared your throat and turned your attention back to him.

He wasn't alone. With him was another boy, one who appeared to be slightly flustered and shy as he stuttered out a greeting when your curious gaze landed on him.

"You don't sound very happy to see me again. And here I thought you'd jump straight into my arms the next time we meet again."

God, he really was a manchild as he almost appeared to sulk when noticing the surprise written all over your face. Yet it still made you smile in amusement as you shook your head.

"Two people I assume?" you asked, catering to your duties first whilst on your job. You could try to talk to him a bit more once you'd found him and the other boy a table.

Another pout on his lips as you didn't engage further with him though eventually he did nod, patting the boy on his back so that he'd follow as you guided both of them to a round table near the windows.

Only after both of them had sat down did you allow yourself to converse a bit with. Your gaze flickered to the boy who, once he noted that you were observing him, duck his head sheepishly.

"Is that the junior you told me about the other day?" you eventually asked Dazai with a slight smile on your face, turning your gaze back to him. He seemed to light up once you focused back on him, happy to have your eyes back on him.

"He is! This is Atsushi. Do excuse his shyness, he doesn't know how to behave around a pretty lady such as yourself yet."

You couldn't help the snort that left you as you handed both of them the menu.

"Are you planning to teach him that too? Oh dear, I pity the poor boy and his future already."

A hand flew right over his heart, a pained gasp leaving him as if you'd just shot him straight through the heart.

"Why? Am I not the most charming person you've ever met?"

You rolled your eyes amused before your attention was turned to one of your other co-workers waving over at you in an attempt to gain your attention without disturbing the other customers by shouting.

"I'll have to leave. Just let me know when you know what you want to order," sou explained to them before you quickly made your way back into the kitchen. You were still able to overhear Dazai's whine when you left him alone with Atsushi.

"Here I am taking my time during my job to visit you only to be ignored. How cold."

"... Dazai-san, I wouldn't call visiting 7 different café 'taking time from your job'.

Wait, what??

---

As it turned out you had neglected specifying to Dazai where exactly you were working which had prompted him to search through all café within your district as the only thing you had mentioned to him had been that luckily your workplace wasn't far from your apartment.

Atsushi had only been the scapegoat as the boy had confessed to you, his huge appetite the perfect cover for Dazai to visit all different places without getting sick himself. Honestly, considering that Atsushi had already stuffed himself full in all the previous stores and had still devoured the curry and slice of chocolate cake he had ordered you couldn't blame Dazai for forcing the boy to tag along.

However, you did have a nagging suspicion that perhaps it had been Atsushi's pocket money that had been largely blown on this trip. That was at least the assumption that you made when you brought the bill over and saw the poor boy wincing.

So you put the bill right in front of Dazai with a bit more force than needed, giving him a bright smile.

"Atsushi over there must be really happy to have such a kind senior as you are who looks out for him so much and even invites him to the café I'm working in."

There was a slightly threatening aura to that smile of yours, one that didn't allow for any resistance. So with a whining sigh, closed eyes and a pout on his lips this time it was Dazai who pulled out his wallet. The only thing missing right now were the tears rolling down his cheeks to further punctuate his hurt.

"Oh, you're breaking this man's heart... and his wallet."

---

"Ouch!"

That hiss escaped you when Sakai-san, an older co-worker of yours, attempted and failed to elbow you discreetly as her sharp bone made contact with your ribs instead. A confused scowl was on your face when you turned to her, rubbing the sore spot.

"Sakai-san, what was that for?"

She let out a giggle before her eyes motioned to something behind you.

"He's back again."

Dazai?

Indeed, when you turned around you were met with Dazai standing at the entrance, hands clasped behind his back as his brown eyes were locked onto your form.

"Go on, we all know that he only wants to be served by you," Sakai tittered teasingly, her eyes flickering back and forth between him and you suggestively which had your face heating up somewhat though within the next moment you felt the familiar heavy weight coiling itself around your heart once more.

"You're wrong..." you uttered quietly though you weren't able to defend yourself otherwise as you walked over to greet Dazai. After all he was still a customer and as one you couldn't have him waiting for too long.

It was the 41st time that he'd visited the café in the last 3 months...

---

"Ah, so you found out about the job as well as got it with the help of one of your seniors back in high school. You're not planning to work there permanently as a waitress though, do you?"

His hands were folded behind his back as he leaned back on the bench, his eyes lazily observing the ocean in front. Both of you had happened to meet whilst you had just taken a stroll through the city on your free day and somehow he'd managed to convince you to take you on a little tour, claiming that you still didn't know all the hidden gems Yokohama had to offer.

Now, with a heavenly crepe in your hand that Dazai had bought you from a little booth you had to admit that were indeed a lot of things this city had to offer that you still didn't know about.

"Well, that is the plan. I have fun with my job but I don't think it's something that I can imagine myself doing for the rest of my life. The payment is enough for my cheap rent but I was planning to move into a bigger apartment later in my life," was your answer whilst you were chewing, biting through juicy strawberries and tasting the sweet whipped cream.

Your gaze cruised relaxed across the ocean, spotting a couple of ships who were either making their way to the port or leaving it. You liked this moment. It felt... nice. Yes, that was the right word. It felt nice to just sit with Dazai like this, watching the ocean together as seagulls flew freely across the seawater, their sounds being carried over by the breeze drifting over the body of blue and tickling your faces.

It was the abrupt noise of amusement that brought you out of your peaceful state, your eyes turning curiously over to Dazai. As you did so, facing him, you could see for a split second how he pressed his lips together as if attempting to hold the light chuckle back that broke out of him within seconds anyways.

You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what was so funny right now, especially since it seemed to be connected to you looking at him.

"Care to tell me what's so funny so that I might join you?" you queried, scowling a bit as you didn't exactly like feeling like you were laughed at.

"My bad, my bad. Sorry," was his swift reply, brown eyes staring at your face with a fond glimmer that had your heart tightening, especially once he suddenly shuffled closer to you.

One of his hands cupped your heated cheek, his thumb wiping over the corner of your lips.

"You just had some whipped cream smeared on your cheek," he whispered lowly as if he only wanted you to hear him even though there were currently no other people around, "I just thought that you looked really adorable."

Your breath hitched, your eyes widening as you stared at Dazai.

-

The sounds of barely contained chuckles reached your ears, making you whip your head around quickly, your eyes narrowing as you caught sight of him.

"Hey! What's so funny right now, huh?"

His hands quickly waved at you, trying to appease the hint of frustration currently bubbling up within you.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just that you have some sauce on your face. God, you should look at yourself right now. You actually look kind of cute like this."

Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks heating up though you hid your embarrassment behind a scoff, one of your hands wiping over your mouth.

"You only smeared it further over your face," he sighed, shaking his head whilst looking at you with warm eyes before pulling out a tissue from his pocket.

"Here, let me help you," he offered kindly, taking a few steps closer to you before he started wiping away the food from your face.

-

Your heart lurched within your chest, the pain filling your veins and your heart. As if his hand was fire you pulled back quickly, the movement as well as the speed of the action so unexpected that it even seemed to startle Dazai slightly.

His hand was still outstretched, his gaze frozen on the spot where your face had been only seconds ago with the temporary shock before it darted over to where you were now. Brown orbs narrowed as he attempted to meet your gaze only to notice that you were avoiding to look at him, your own vision fixed on the ground beneath the bench.

Yet you still couldn't hide it. The raw pain. The heavy guilt.

His hand hovered in the air for a while longer before he lowered it slowly, something stirring within his chest as his eyes observed your face like a hawk, gauging every twitch of your eyes and clench of your jaw.

There was something...

The silence that had been comfortable only minutes ago was now threatening to suffocate you and every second that passed only made it worse. Your heart was pounding against your chest so loudly that you feared that Dazai would be able to hear it as he was within your proximity.

"(y/n)..."

A dagger, straight through your heart as he spoke your name so softly, so carefully. The warm sensation of comfort shooting through you threatened to burn you, your insides crawling.

It felt wrong. So very wrong to feel that way.

The need to escape dwelled strongly within you as you found yourself unable to endure it. You rose abruptly to your feet, your balance thrown off due to the quick movement, whipped cream dripping down your hands due to the way you clutched the crepe so tightly in your hold.

"I..." you paused, your tongue frozen as you couldn't find it in you to conjure up any half-decent excuse to leave as sudden as you planned to. Not with the way your heart was pounding within its cage, each beat a new wave of emotion that shook you to your very core.

"I have to leave."

You quietly cursed your unsteady voice for cracking at the end, unable to keep everything confined within the deepest darkness of your soul. You feared him, feared the feeling of a hand grasping after you and clutching to your pitiful form, of a hurt and confused voice asking you about your abrupt parture yet none of that happened. So you left, that tormenting silence pushing down on you. A part of you longed to look back yet the fear of gazing into brown eyes only to be met with silent agony and loneliness predominated over that nagging guilt as you quickly stormed away.

You really were such a coward. Why were you always like this?

---

It was pouring heavily when the two of you crossed paths again after a few days of you not having been able to spot him anywhere. Those few days had felt like a few of the longest days in your life as your mind was unable to let go of the memory of your last interaction with him. The guilt had only festered within your mind and heart with each passing hour yet still, you had always found yourself pausing whenever you had tried to call him or to send him a simple text as your mind had suddenly emptied itself with blank dread.

Even whilst you had worked you had been unable to push the subject away, especially since quite a few of your co-workers kept on bugging you about Dazai. You hadn't been able to tell them about what had happened. You couldn't bring yourself to tell the truth and even if you could, you didn't know how to. Only Nakano had sensed that there was something you didn't want to tell and had helped to inconspicuously guide you away from your romance-loving female co-workers.

Dazai's absence had stung though, more than you would have wanted. There was no denial though that you had grown quite attached to the silly man in those last few months and you were afraid, afraid because you suspected that he was feeling something for you you had sworn to never give to someone else after him.

So many times you had imagined what you should say to Dazai the next time you'd bump into him but as both of you were standing there right now on different sides of the street with the rain pouring down on the two of you, all that practice and all the thoughts you had spent for him vanished as you forgot how to breathe.

It felt like there were only the two of you in this world as the crowd of humans around you blurred into incognisable blurs of colours, becoming one endless string of movement that you barely noticed from the corner of your eyes.

After all you could only focus on Dazai in that moment, unable to tear your eyes away. He was soaked through, held no umbrella that shielded him from the rain unlike you. Wet strands of hair fell down his eyes, droplets of water trickling down from those brown locks. He must have been freezing in the cold autumn weather, he could have gone and searched for any cover to protect himself from the heavy rain yet he didn't. He chose to stand there and watch you, both of you trapped within a small world where only the other existed.

Time became insignificant for those too long yet too short moments where both of you couldn't look away from each other, where it felt like only the eyes of the other person mattered in this world. Until Dazai severed that connection by averting his eyes, a sudden gush of cold wind pushing you harshly back to the real world. A gasp left your lips, a breath you hadn't even noticed you had held in this entire time escaping your lungs.

All sensations returned to you. The noisiness of the city around you. The goosebumps all over your skin due to the chilly weather. The smell of rainwater, of food and exhaust gases. You were grasping for a sense of control within the real world, your mind still not fully back until you felt safe enough to move again, your eyes instantly searching for Dazai.

His retreating form was the only thing that you noticed, your heart stopping inside your chest for a moment as you watched how he slowly disappeared within the crowd.

-

Brrrrr. Brrrrr. Brrrrr. Brr-

Your hands instantly started digging into your schoolbag, your fingers sweeping around within as you attempted to find your phone before you fished it out, quickly accepting the call. Especially once you saw who was calling you.

"Hey, Hideo," you chirped as you made your way through the mostly empty streets, on the way back to your home after your day at school and after finishing your club activities.

"Hey," he echoed back softly, his voice unusually quiet considering that normally he was always more energetic. You narrowed your eyes when you heard his voice, pressing your ear closer to your phone.

"Is everything alright?"

A few seconds of silence, a few seconds too much of silence as if he didn't know what he was supposed to answer to that question before you heard him sighing.

"I'm just a bit tired. It's been kind of exhausting those last few weeks."

"I... I guess so," you replied unsurely before straightening up, your tone returning to a chipper sound as you attempted to cheer him up, "Exams have been pretty tough. But hey, we're finished now! That means we can take it easier again."

"True. It's finally over. God, my parents were basically interrogating me after every exam because they wanted to know how I'd performed."

"Well, you've always been the brain between the two of us. They really don't have anything to worry about, especially since you always perform so well. I mean, without you I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have scored as high on my previous tests as I did."

"You're giving me too much credit. I only nudged you in the right direction. You learned everything else quite fast by yourself then."

Awkward silence. Uncomfortable silence. Silence that had your stomach twisting in ways that had you feeling like something was not quite right.

"So... is there... like-uhh... a reason why you're calling me?"

You internally cringed as soon as you had spoken those words as they only registered whilst you heard yourself speaking them. God, that sounded quite awkward which really didn't mend this already strange situation.

"..."

You could have sworn that you heard Hideo releasing a shaky breath as if trying to maintain his emotions better.

"Not really. I guess I just wanted to hear your voice."

Okay, this was getting more and more suspicious. You had a queasy feeling in your gut.

Just as you were about to turn around the next corner you spotted him right there, just standing there at the end of the road all alone. Instantly you stopped, pressing your back against the building as you peered around. He hadn't spotted you, his back facing you as he simply gazed up at the dark sky.

"Are you sure that you're okay, Hideo?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Or am I too sappy by giving you a compliment?"

"No! Absolutely not."

A soft exhale of air from the other line of the call that had your heart clenching and fluttering at the same time.

"I guess I just wanted to let you know that I'm glad that we're friends."

There was a lump at the back of your throat, one that you desperately tried to swallow back. You felt uncomfortable, your heart heavy with a sensation you didn't like nor want.

"S-since we have no exams anymore, how about playing video games together again this weekend? Or anything else to take our minds off the pressure?"

Why did you sound so desperate? Why was your voice threatening to crack?

"...Sounds nice. I'd like that."

You nodded your head eagerly even though he couldn't see you.

"Okay, it's a deal then. You just wait until I kick your ass in those games."

That's when he let out a genuine chuckle, one that managed to ease your trembling heart a bit.

"You sound confident. Well then, good night (y/n)."

"Sure. See you tomorrow."

"... Yeah, until tomorrow."

As soon as he hung up you peered your head around the corner, watching as his silhoutte turned around and moved into the opposite direction where your house was. You didn't know why you didn't just walk carelessly without minding whether he spotted you or not.

Once he was out of sight did you finally remove yourself from the spot where you had been hiding, your steps tentative yet fast as you quickly made it to the other side of the road where he'd been standing just very recently.

You could still spot his silhoutte, getting smaller and smaller. A part of you felt the urgent need to rush after him, to reassure that wriggly anxiety within your heart yet you tried to shake that unease off. Hideo always recovered quickly from his sorrow.

Tomorrow he'd come over to your desk and both of you would laugh over this silly call. So you turned your back on his retreating figure slowly disappearing into the darkness as you made your own way home, the streetlights illuminating the path...

-

Cars honking loudly. The quiet yet judgemental stares of the people. The cold rain washing over you. All those consequences seemed insignificant as you sprinted over the street despite the red light, pushing your way through the people and dropping your umbrella as a result. All you could focus on was Dazai's figure slowly blurring into the crowd, disappearing from your sight.

You didn't want this. You didn't want him to disappear from your life. Not like this. Not again.

Your hands reached out so far that your muscles hurt yet that didn't matter to you, your body lurching forward, your fingers tightening around his bandaged arm.

"Don't go."

Such a short sentence. Such a simple sentence. Yet who would have known that so few words could carry so much emotions with them as you felt your voice quivering, your chest heaving with too many emotions as your eyes started stinging with unshed tears.

He stopped as soon as he felt your desperate grip around his arm, your fingers clutching at him as if he'd disappear the moment you'd let go. His body turned slightly to be able to look upon you, brown eyes gazing at your pleading eyes.

There was so much pain in your eyes. Why was that? What was hurting you so much?

Scattered thoughts bounced back and forth within your mind, as soon as you thought you had caught one it trickled through your fingers like sand. Emotions hit you full force as if you were standing directly beneath a waterfall, unable to bear the burden.

You felt completely overwhelmed, didn't know what you were supposed to do. The only thing you knew was that you didn't want to let go. You couldn't.

"(y/n). You're crying."

As if someone had pulled you out of the depths of the ocean you resurfaced to reality, all the noises around you suddenly coming back to life, his voice tearing through whatever abyss you had been falling in.

One of his hands was on your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin.

Crying? Were you crying?

You didn't know. You really didn't know. Perhaps it was just the rain pouring down unforgivingly on the two of you that made it look like you were crying. Or perhaps you really were crying, your eyes prickling with the emotions you'd just gone through. Thank god it was raining though so that neither you nor him could tell whether you were shedding tears or not.

"It's just the rain," you pressed out, taking deep breaths to gather your scattered control so that you wouldn't fall apart any further. Nevertheless though, your hand ran over your face to wipe away the droplets of water, to wipe away the tears either your eyes were shedding or the tears that the rain put in your eyes.

"It isn't," he refuted quietly, stepping closer to you as brown eyes stared at you, almost through you as a forlorn haze took away the usual lively sharpness his eyes always had as if he too was recalling a memory that pained him.

You gave him time as you realised that his mind was elsewhere. However, just like he had helped you just moments ago you felt indebted to do the same. After all you knew how painful it was to get lost in your own regret.

"Dazai, we should go to my apartment until the rain has stopped."

---

Your apartment was nothing grand, nothing outstanding. It consisted of five rooms. The little hallway as soon as someone entered where the tiny kitchen was also installed into, the living room with a small couch, a kotatsu table and a futon stuffed into a cupboard which you rolled out at night, a small bathroom with a bathtub and showerhead, the second smallest room where a washing machine was stuffed into and the tiniest room where the toilet was located in.

It wasn't much and Dazai knew that your parents were partially still supporting you yet he'd never felt more comfortable inside someone else's apartment in his entire life as you ushered him inside, both of you soaked to the bones. His coat, that he had insisted on wringing out before entering your building, was slung over your arm as you had suggested throwing it into the laundry dryer.

"Just make yourself at home. I'll get you some towels," you instructed him as you hastily took your shoes off before disappearing into the tiny washing room.

There really wasn't much to analyse in your room as you had only bought the bare necessities, aware that you had only a limited amount of space. Still, it was tidier than his own place by a long shot and you hadn't even planned to bring him over, meaning that you hadn't cleaned up on purpose.

Perhaps he should also start cleaning his place up a tad bit more when he got the chance to bring you over to his own apartment.

Footsteps echoed from behind him and in the next moment something covered his vision.

"Here."

As Dazai rubbed himself dry as good as he could with his clothes completely wet you opened the cupboard and pulled out some blankets. You didn't have any clothes you could borrow him to wear except your own, meaning he'd have to stay in those soaked pieces of clothes he was wearing. The very least you could do was to keep him warm somehow.

When you turned around, your arms stuffed with two blankets, you were met with Dazai's gaze already on you. His brown hair was slightly tousled, the towel wrapped around his shoulders like some sort of cape. Despite everything that had just happened you couldn't help the weak huff of amusement that escaped your lips. He reminded you of a wet cat, it was a rather adorable sight.

"Take those. I don't want you to catch a cold," you spoke as you handed him over the blankets.

"What about you?"

"I'll change my clothes in a moment," you simply told him, rolling your eyes when Dazai made no motion to take the blankets which led you to wrap him up inside them yourself. You could sense his gaze following your every movement as if he was afraid that he'd miss something crucial if he were to avert his eyes even for a moment.

"(y/n)..."

-

"(y/n)..."

-

Both of you were close, too close for your heart ro remain quiet. It was pounding against your ribcage, elated yet heavy at the same time. It felt like the air was different than just a few moments ago, every breath pricking your lungs as if electricity surrounded the two of you.

It was thrilling. It was new yet familiar. It scared you.

You attempted to move away, to create some distance between the two of you that would give you some semblance of normalcy again yet as soon as you leaned away, his hands shot out and grabbed your wrists, tugging you closer to him.

“(y/n),” he breathed again, his tone almost a whine as your denial of even properly looking at him stroked the neediness within him.

He needed you to look at him.

“Yes?” you replied tentatively, your gaze carefully trying to hold his own. There came no reply from him though as if he was simply captivated by having you looking at him with full attention once more, only prolonging your own awkwardness as your feelings started spinning out of your control.

“Dazai?”

What was with that dreamy look on his face?

“Osamu…”

“H-huh?”

“Osamu. Call me Osamu.”

You blinked multiple times within only a few seconds, your heart jumping and trembling as you realised that he wanted you to call him by his first name.

“Say it. Please say it.”

His grip on your wrists tightened, brown eyes looking at you with an almost begging shine within them. You could feel your palms getting sweaty, crying and screaming at your traitorous heart for fluttering within your chest. It was just a name. It shouldn’t feel as intimate as it did.

“O-Osamu…”

Eyelashes fluttered as his name left your lips, warmth wrapping itself around his heart similarly to the blanket you had tugged him into. It was comfort and pain all at once, the unfamiliar heat burning the cold void within unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

Your own heart was in similar agony as your gazes were locked, his eyes threatening to burn your barely recovered feelings. You wanted to beg him to stop looking at you like this, the ache almost too much to bear yet at the same time there was a tiny part, a rotten part, that didn’t want him to look away.

His gaze gently traveled over your face before landing on your lips, your heart skipping a beat as you noticed where his gaze was lingering. It was tempting, especially with the charged atmosphere yet the viscous guilt within you clung to your soul, bubbling up within the pit of your stomach.

Your index finger pressed against his forehead when he attempted to lean closer, your lips pressed in a thin line to protect yourself as you slowly shook your head.

For one brief second the atmosphere drastically changed, creeping resentment mixed with icy pain that was dumped over you like a bucket of cold water before it all melted away into tangible disappointment that tasted bitter on your tongue.

“Why?”

He didn’t need to speak so quiet. You desperately wished to tell him that he could speak up, that he didn’t need to utter his words in such a breathy and soft voice as if scared of anyone but you hearing his words. Because it was this tone that made everything feel more intimate, that pulled you closer to him and created the illusion of a protective bubble only including the two of you.

Your defenses were worn down, your heart almost within reach. Dazai could see it in the way your lips parted, your gaze deeply in thought as if searching for the words you’d kept to yourself for the last few years. It was a burden you wished secretly to share, the weight of it forcing you through constant pain.

But once again you were too afraid to let go even if it hurt.

“It’s nothing.”

And just like that you shoved him out of your heart, your defenses up and shutting him out completely. His fingers twitched when you shook your wrists free from his hold, a coldness born from within his heart making him shiver that not even the warmth of the blankets could erase.

You turned your back on him, didn’t have the will nor strength to look at him in that moment. He’d gotten close. Too close. You couldn’t let that happen.

---

Nakano Rin. A co-worker of yours. But not just any co-worker. A former senior of yours in high school who had played a major role in you moving to Yokohama and getting you the job in the café. She was truly a kind and supportive senior who never coddled you too much.

From the very first moment she had seen him Dazai had known it. That she didn't like him. He didn't know why himself. There were a lot of reasons why some women didn't like him. His dramatic exterior, his theatrical actions or most notably his habit to propose to lots of women to commit a double-suicide with him.

It was the last point that had been quite a few times a reason for some people to complain directly to the Agency which had inevitably led someone to prepare a present as a form of apology for said person. Yet he had never asked you this question nor was it his behavior that appeared to bother her about him.

No.

The moment she had spotted his bandages had she given him a skeptical look, visible concern in her gaze whenever he had visited your workplace and you had served him. She was worried for you for reasons that went deeper than other complains he had received from women around him.

That's because she knew. She knew something that he didn't. She knew what it was that held you back and though Dazai already had solid suspicions of his own she would be the first clue.

That's why he sought her out, waited for her to make her own way home. She always had to take the train to reach her own apartment faster so he waited for her in front of the trainstation, stepping out of his hiding spot the moment he spotted her figure.

Her face fell slightly the moment she caught sight of him though she instantly hid it beneath a neutral face.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh, certainly a blunt one who didn't pull any punches.

"Oh, why so harsh? Am I not allowed to be in the city where I live and work?"

There was an unimpressed look on her face as he told her this. Clearly she was a no-nonsense person.

"I've been using this station for the last few years. Never once have I seen you here before after my work and I don't believe in the bullshit they call fate. So what is it that you want from me?"

Hmm, a sharp one. Trying to charm her obviously wouldn't work unless he wanted to risk annoying her even more and causing her to leave. She hadn't left though just yet and that was because she was interested. After all Dazai wasn't the only one who wanted to know something. Matching her bluntness appeared to be the best option here.

"I'm curious. What have I ever done to deserve such hostility from you?"

Months she had spent only observing him goofing around. The sudden shift in his personality caught her off guard as her eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment, taking in the man in front of her who looked the same and yet so different before she stuffed all that shock down. It was too late though, Dazai had already seen her brief loss of composure.

"What makes you think that I dislike you?"

The muscles within her body tensed subtly, her voice more pressed than just a few moments ago. She was getting defensive right now. Oh, he'd caught her red-handed and she knew that yet tried to hide it. How predictable she still was in the end.

"We both know that you have something against me," he spoke, the volume of his voice not changing the least as he took a step closer, only causing her to tense up further, "Every time I'm around (y/n) you always give us those fleeting glances, your eyes are always lingering on me as if you fear that I'll do something unspeakably terrible to her. You're scared that I'm going to hurt her. But I want to know why. You see, you don't strike me as someone who is naturally the overprotective type. No, you're more the kind of person who makes decisions and judgements based on your experience."

He was looming right over her, shadows falling over his face as he stared right into her face, taking in the barely hidden intimidation that must have pumped through her body in that moment. He hadn't done anything though besides asking harmless questions and Nakano wasn't the type to throw an unnecessary scene. It was one thing he could at least appreciate about her.

Her eyes involuntarily flickered down to the bandages wrapped around his neck. Her gaze somehow always landed on those bandages with that interesting mix of concern and worry though none of it was for him. It was all for you. There was a reason why she seemed to dislike his bandages as much as she did, a reason Dazai needed to know. It was the key he needed to obtain your heart.

"You know already, don't you?"

She was on full defense but his surprise attack had left her largely unprepared just as much as his confrontational behavior she had not been exposed to before. It took most people always far too long to get over their shock and disbelief. That's what would push her over the edge

"I love (y/n). Isn't that enough reason for you to trust me?"

-

"Nakano-san..."

"What?"

"I... I think I love (y/n)."

-

"You love her? What is the point of loving (y/n) when you are going to hurt her anyways by not even livi-"

There it was. The crack that he had needed to target which had caused the walls to instantly crumble, even if only for a few seconds. That was all he needed.

Nakano didn't finish her sentence as she caught on to her words before she could spill something that only her and you knew about. It was already too late though.

'What is the point of loving (y/n) if you are going to hurt her anyways by not even living?'

That was it.

"See? The two of us can hold a decent conversation after all. Have a nice, evening, Nakano."

With his hands shoved in his pocker he simply walked past her, brushing off the mortified look on her face. He'd gotten what he had wanted after all.

Still, the full picture was still missing. He only had the frame so far. Perhaps it was time for a few days of vacation. You'd told him so many wonderful things about Yamagata after all. it'd be a shame to not visit the place at least once.

---

"Vacation?" you muttered surprised, repeating the answer one of Dazai's co-workers had just given you.

The man, Kunikida as he had introduced himself, adjusted his glasses as his shoulders slumped before he straightened as if mentally preparing himself for something.

"i'm afraid yes. However, I apologise in advance for whatever he may have done. As soon as he has returned I will make sure that he will personally apologise to you. May I have your name so that I can inform him as soon as he is back?"

You blinked once. Twice. Thrice.

"Huh?"

"What has he done this time? Did he ask you to commit double-suicide with you? Did he bother one of your friends or sisters? I assure you, his behavior does not reflect the way or agency wo-"

"What? No! He-he hasn't done anything. I..uhh...was just worried because I haven't seen him for a few days now. He also hasn't answered any of my calls either so I thought that something might have happened."

Now that you were hearing yourself you couldn't help but feel pathetic. God, it wasn't like you needed to see him every single day after all. You were only bothered right now because normally Dazai always visited your café a few times every week even if his wallet was always crying invisible tears when he blew his money on drinks and baked sweets to support you and your workplace.

You weren't worried because of anything else...

"That idiot is fine. He's going to be back in two days and as soon as he is back I'll make sure to lecture him on not making a lady wait and worry like this."

You hadn't even noticed that you had drifted away with your mind until Kunikida's disapproving voice in regards to Dazai pulled you out of that spiraling void.

"You promise...? That he'll be back?"

"Yes, I promise."

You weren't convinced but his words were the best thing you had to latch on to right now. This was a man who had worked alongside Dazai for a few years now after all already. He knew him better and longer than you had.

But then again, you had thought the same about yourself only to find out the hard way that you hadn't known anything at all.

---

"Ueno-sensei, right?"

The older woman flinched when she heard that unfamiliar voice calling out her name only to be greeted by the face of a stranger when she turned around, clearly a few years too old to be a student.

"Yes, that would be me. Who are you, young man?"

"My name is Dazai," he answered as he slowly pulled out his badge, "And I'm here because I have some questions concerning one of your former students, (l/n) (y/n)."

---

You should try to get some sleep. You had a long shift tomorrow yet your mind kept on wandering to Dazai, wondering how he was doing at the moment. He was supposedly meant to return tomorrow yet you still hadn't been able to reach out to him. No phone call answered, no reply to your messages though at least you had the consolation that he had at the very last read them.

For not the first time on that evening did you grab your phone to see if he had called you or finally decided to talk to you in some other form yet once more were you met with nothing which only fueled the unease within you.

"Tomorrow," you kept on telling yourself like it was a prayer, "Tomorrow I'll see him again."

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to shoo the tears away that threatened to spill out. Everything was too familiar...

---

Long fingers clutched a bouquet of yellow hyacinth in their hold, concealed emotions hidden behind brown eyes as Dazai stood in front of the family grave.

His train would leave in two hours yet he had still felt the need to visit this place, to get his first and last look at the person that had stolen your heart and had it still in his possession. He bent down, laying the yellow flowers down in front of the grave, his first and last offer, his gaze focused on the name etched into the stone that seemed to start tormenting him just now just as it had tormented you for years.

Arata Hideo

That would change very soon though.

---

You were only with half your mind there as you walked back to your apartment, the other half of your brain too busy worrying about Dazai to the point where you felt almost sick. Kunikida had promised you that he would send Dazai to you as soon as he would return.

So why hadn't Dazai appeared in the café? The entire day you had spent keeping a constant eye on the entrance, always hoping that he would walk in and would act like nothing was wrong which would then finally allow you to shed the heavy cloak that had wrapped itself around your heart for those last few days.

You had already made up half of your heart to head to the Detective Agency right now even if it was already late and you should try to get some sleep even yet you didn't know if you would even be able to rest well. Not with your stomach twisting and turning in that wriggly and nauseous dread and your heart aching and crying in fear of history repeating itself.

You missed the keyhole two times in a row, your eyes unfocused and your thoughts elsewhere but the present. It was the moment you stepped inside and were left alone did the carefully crafted composure crack. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you attempted to fight back your tears, your stomach and chest heaving with barely contained sobs.

Normally your apartment was always kept tidy yet you really had started to lack those past days. Your sink was filled with unwashed plates and cutlery, half-full bags of chips and empty containers of cup ramen scattered all over the counter and you hadn't even bothered to roll your futon in and stuff it back into the cupboard this morning. You had no motivation to clean up now either, didn't even feel like taking a shower. You would simply bury yourself beneath the blankets for a while until you had emotionally gathered yourself to visit the agency where Dazai was working once more. And if he still hadn't returned-

Your back hit the wall behind you as you stumbled back in shock when you walked into your living/bedroom. Dazai was sitting right there on your futon, his back facing you and unresponsive as you smacked right against the wall behind you.

What was he doing here? How had he gotten inside your apartment? Why had he left so suddenly? Why hadn't he informed you beforehand? Where had he been? Why hadn't he answered any of your calls or messages?

So many questions swirling around within your mind, so many clashing emotions writhing around within your heart yet you found yourself unable to express anything as only one word made it past your lips.

"O-Osamu."

Still no reaction as he just sat there, gazing out of the window. It was this silence that you were bathed in that only grated your already shot nerves more, your anxiety spiking as you took one tentative step closer.

"Osamu?"

"Are you just using me?"

...What?

The question was akin to an unexpected blow to your heart, the air leaving your lung as you stopped breathing altogether for a few moments as your distressed mind miserably failed to process his words or where they were suddenly coming from.

"Wha- NO! I'm not using you! Where- Why would you even think that?"

What had happened? What had you done for this to be the first thing to come out of Dazai's mouth after not having seen him for days?

Your breath was uneven, your chest stuttering as it rose and fell rapidly to supply air to your lungs yet it still felt like you didn't have enough.

That's when Dazai finally turned around to look at you and your heart froze when you saw his face. Any mirthfulness or mischief had vanished as if it had all been a mere illusion, leaving only those unfamiliar brown eyes who were staring straight at you with no warmth in them.

"Arata Hideo."

At first the world seemed to slow down, to even freeze entirely for a moment as that name ring in your ears. Then the tremors reached your heart, violently shaking at it and breaking down any frail walls you still had left within you. Tears streamed down your face, burning against your cold skin, your lips wobbly as you gazed at him.

"How do you know that name?"

There was pain, pain you thought you had gotten at least a bit better at managing but now as you stood there, your body trembling with restrained sobs and your cheeks soaked with salty tears you knew that it had just been a big, fat lie. You were still stuck in that same place.

Dazai completely ignored your question as he slowly stood up, his own eyes never leaving yours.

"It's quite a sad story isn't it? A young man with a dazzling future ahead of him yet deep down drowning in a sorrow he couldn't ever explain, searching for his place in the world yet never able to find it."

He took a step closer to you, eyes starting to gleam with previously repressed emotions. You instinctively took a step back.

"In love with his best friend yet unable to properly express his feelings."

Anger, pain, sorrow, betrayal and something else. All things you could make out in his eyes as you slowly stepped back all whilst he stalked forward.

"Arata Hideo took his own life in his second year of high school by jumping down from a builing one night, finally putting an end to his existence in which he could find no meaning in."

Your back was pressed against the door, sweat coating your forehead, your heart so painfully fast that it hurt in your chest all whilst your shaky gaze was focused on Dazai.

The back of your head pressed against the door until it hurt all whilst Dazai leaned his own face closer, his hands caging you in.

"Doesn't that story sound somehow familiar, (y/n)?"

And just like that you broke down completely. Sobs tore through your throat, your shoulders shaking as even more tears cascaded down your cheeks like a waterfall. Memories of a fading silhoutte filled your mind, wounds that had never healed reopening and bleeding with more intensity than ever.

His eyes followed your tears, torn apart between heartache for seeing you in such distress and twisted delight for making you suffer, coal-black bitterness tainting his heart.

You weren't allowed to take a break. Not until he was satisfied.

"You loved him, didn't you?"

Your head was buzzing painfully as that call kept replaying itself over and over again, self-loathing and regret tearing into you again. Your vision was blurred through all the tears that wouldn't stop falling.

You didn’t dare to answer his question, afraid to reveal a truth that you no one but you knew. A truth that you wished you would have been able to share if it wouldn’t have been for your own cowardice. Your inability however was irrelevant. Dazai knew already.

“Do you love me too then?”

It was nothing more than a whisper, his warm breath hitting your face as he uttered this question. The impact that those words left on you though was anything but a soft susurration, the screams of your heart more akin to those of a banshee promising your own death.

You’d lost your ability to reply, your tongue turned to stone as the only sound that you could muster was a pathetic choke.

“I’m just a replacement to you, aren’t I? A second chance to fix your mistakes from the past. But (y/n), I’m not Arate Hideo.”

Hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders tightly, long and bony fingers digging into the skin and bones, putting pressure on you. Your knees, weak as jelly and already barely able to hold your body up gave in like twigs in the wind as you were pushed down, kneeling in front of Dazai’s unforgiving and cruel eyes.

“Did you feel relief when you found me on the bridge that day and rescued me from making in your mind reckless and stupid decision? Does it feel good to play the role of the hero who is saving the helpless man who silently suffers? Do I serve as a useful tool to soothe your guilt by helping you play out the little fantasy you which you would have acted on five years ago?”

Poison everywhere.

Swirling around in his eyes, oozing out with every word that he gritted out, seeping out from the tips of your fingers into your very being until even the air tasted wrong.

Your own body couldn’t function anymore which allowed Dazai to hoist you up on your shaky knees and push you back into your living room where you instantly fell on your futon. He swiftly knelt down in front of you, grabbing the nape of your neck and forcing you to meet his eyes again.

They were burning holes in your very soul, your eyelids closing instantly to protect the bloody shreds that he had reduced your heart to.

“(y/n), look at me.”

Why had it turned out this way? What had you done so wrong to deserve this?

“Look. At. Me.”

Low, threatening, chilling to the bones. A sound so unlike Dazai that for a moment you feared that it was an evil spirit having you in its hold. You found yourself complying without even being aware of it, your survival instincts forcing you to obey.

“Who am I?”

Your very voice felt like it was fading in the face of an emotional meltdown but whoever this person in front of you was, one look into those dark eyes resembling hell’s abyss you knew better than to remain silent.

“D-Dazai…”

Instantly the hand that had previously rested on the nape of your neck was wrapped around your throat, the grip just tight enough to make you uncomfortable and anxious but not enough to cut off your air supply. A displeased look on his face as he wiggled his index finger much like a scolding teacher.

“What are you supposed to call me? Come on, you’re smarter than this.”

It took your brain painful seconds before it finally retrieved the memory you were searching for, slowed down as it had to fight its way through a river of panic, pain and regret.

“Osamu. You’re Osamu.”

“There we go. That’s better.”

Now his hand ran soothingly through your hair, the contrast of his gentle touch to the way he’d just squeezed your throat seconds ago dizzying.

“Do you want to know how I felt when I found out about your little secret?” he hummed in a condescending tone as he crawled closer to you, slowly pushing you down.

You didn’t want to know yet you only mustered the courage to shake your head weakly, holding your breath to prepare for the next wave of pain to crush you.

“I was jealous,” he confessed, his words and the glimmer of resentment in his eyes eliciting unpleasant sensations within your stomach as if ants were crawling around within your body.

He was jealous of a dead boy.

“Why?”

You couldn’t help the word from slipping out from your lips.

“He’s in my way.”

“How? He’s dead,” you pressed out with as much force as you could, your disbelief guiding you to speak up even if you felt like spitting out blood when you spoke those words.

“He isn’t.”

What?

His hand trailed down your head, snaking over your throat before resting right over your heart, his finger tapping right over the spot where your heart was thumbing against.

“He’s still in there. You’re keeping him alive in your heart. And as long as you do that, I can never have you for myself.”

For a brief second there was a bitterness within his gaze, a silent torment as his finger drummed against your heart as if helplessly pleading for you to let him in. Then it all was smothered underneath a pitch black layer of possessive jealousy as he leaned his head down, a blank expression on his face.

“That’s why I need you to forget him.”

No.

How could he even ask you something so cruel? Forget him? You could never do that.

“I… I can’t,” you choked out, shaking your head, your cheeks itching and burning as your tears kept on sliding down your face.

“You said it yourself, (y/n). He’s dead.”

Agony. There was nothing but grief and sorrow within your heart right now. Memories that used to bring you joy now only amplifying your suffering. When had it began? When had you lost him?

“No,” Dazai growled as he realised that your mind wasn’t focused on him right now, your thoughts escaping to the boy you refused to abandon even in death, “Look at me. Focus on me.”

“Why are you doing this? I-I thought you were-“

“I love you.”

Those words had been living within his heart for quite a while now yet it was in this moment that he couldn’t hold them back. They’d been scratching at his chest the moment you had entered your apartment but only now where you were pressed beneath him did he finally let them escape the constricts of his heart.

First it was shock. Then it was denial. Fragile denial that led you to shake your head. You didn’t want to hear those words. Not from him.

“You-you don’t mean-“

“Oh, I do mean it, (y/n). Don’t you dare to question my feelings.”

He didn't even let you finish your sentences anymore, already tired from your refusal. For months you had dedicated your time to him, for months you had slowly squeezed your way into his heart and now that you had his it was only fair that he had yours too. So he repeated his feelings again, his breath right against the shell of your ear.

"I love you."

The words embedded themselves into your bones, you couldn't even attempt to deny it this time. There was disbelief, there was guilt but beneath all of that was something much worse. A sickening relief that only increased your brooding resentment solely directed against yourself.

There was the spark though, somewhere in the pool of tears swimming around in your eyes Dazai saw that spark that he had been searching for the entire time.

Both of his hands cradled your soaked cheeks, wiping away the tears that were slipping out, the gesture sweet and comforting despite everything he had just done.

"It must have been painful for you those last five years. Constantly agonising over what you could have done better to prevent it, constantly being haunted by the what-if scenarios, unable to close your eyes peacefully without recalling the last moment you two shared together."

Yes, he couldn't even imagine how many nights you had silently cried yourself to sleep and how your inner demons had torn into your heart and soul, mocking you for having failed as a best friend.

"However, there was something even more painful yet so selfish that you didn't even dare to reveal it to anyone else and that you still deny to this day, isn't there?"

Warm lips latched on to your jawline, pressing chaste kisses against it. You didn't push him away, torn apart between two emotions that were like night and day.

"Deep down, somewhere in your heart you couldn't help but wonder why you weren't enough for him, didn't you?"

-

Dull eyes stared at the huge picture that had been framed and placed in a small lake of flowers for the funeral. The smile on his face seemed to mock, harshly reminding you just how little you had actually known about him.

You subtly clenched your fists, your eyes burning with unshed tears, your gaze almost glaring with sorrowful resentment at his face.

He had loved you, hadn't he? Hadn't you been enough? Hadn't you been able to make life worth living at all?

-

"No matter how much you tried to shake off those selfish wishes, a tiny part of you always wondered that if he would have truly loved you then he would have lived for you, would have let you in on his pain. However, instead he chose to take his own life without ever telling you and ever since you have been left with a pit in your heart."

Fingers intertwined with your own, holding your shaky hand in his own and you couldn't help but grab on tightly, craving the reassurance that warmth gave you.

"You want to be loved by someone so much to the point where you can make their life worth living. You crave it. You need it after Hideo's suicide that has left you forever with the insecurities that you weren't enough. The only thing holding you back is your own guilt. But what you need so desperately isn't something that you can find by clinging to his memories."

His chest was smushed against your own, so close that you could actually detect his own frantic heartbeat just as much as he could feel yours.

"You don't need him, (y/n). You need me. And you have me. I'm not like him. I'm still here. From the very first moment we've met you knew that I didn't see meaning in my own existence and ever since you have latched on to me because I'm just the person that you need to feel whole again. I love you and I will live for you. I'm willing to give you everything you wished to receive from him, I'm willing to show you in how much pain I am."

Oh, traitorous heart that fluttered within your chest as you heard his confession. You shouldn't feel this way yet as you gazed into those brown eyes that were begging you silently you couldn't help yourself. You really were sick in your mind, weren't you?

Your free hand went up to his arm, touching the bandages covering his skin. There was a part of you that didn't want to know, that was too scared to face what would be underneath it. However, for some reason you were in this moment not quite as anxious as you had anticipated. Maybe because, as selfish as it sounded, Dazai had suffered long before he had met you, meaning that you wouldn't have to feel guilty and blame yourself for not having done more to help him.

Slowly you started peeling the layers of bandages away, noticing how his grip on your hand tightened softly as if now seeking reassurance in your hold. You gave him one final look, realising that he himself was looking at his loose bandages as if he himself hadn't seen his own bare arm in years before you tugged the white layers away, letting it drop to the floor.

Scars. So many scars. Some long, some short, some vertikal, some horizontal but all of them intentional.

Your heart was crying, this time for him though as you could very well imagine how his other arm and his neck must have looked like if he had already damaged one of his arms so badly.

It was the brief stutter of his breath that snapped your attention back to him. There was a strange look on his face, nostalgia and loneliness visible on his face as his emotions were bleeding through as if removing part of his bandages had removed part of his own grasp of himself.

He hadn't allowed you to dwell in your own darkness though and you wouldn't allow him to do the same.

"It's alright. You're alright. Here, look at me," you whispered softly, stroking his cheek. He let out a shuddering breath when he felt your hand on his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment and relishing in the sensation before he opened them again and his gaze was focused on you.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing needy kisses against the inside of your wrist. This time you allowed your heart to swell when you heard it, trying to ignore your guilt this time around.

"I... I love you too, Osamu."

A love arrow straight through his heart.

There may have still been some hesitation, some tiny nagging voice of doubt but that didn't change the fact that you had been sincere with him.

You loved him. And you always would because only someone like him could give you the love that you craved and needed.

Warm lips quickly met yours in a needy and desperate kiss, his hand sliding underneath your head and pushing you closer, greedily devouring your lips with his own. Initial surprise slowly melted away as his lips moved against yours, your fingers running through his brown hair which triggered him to let out a loving sigh, enjoying your touch.

A low whine escaped you when you found yourself running low on air, your fingers tugging at the soft locks of curly hair to let him know that you needed to breathe. He didn't react, drawing the kiss out for a few long seconds more before he pulled away, panting softly as he pressed another kiss against your lips, quick and sweet this time.

Quickly his lips found themselves on your neck as if the taste of your skin was addictive, both of his hands tracing along the curves of your body before sliding underneath your shirt, his fingers gliding over your stomach before being met with your bra.

The tips of his fingers tickled over your ribs, causing you to shudder a bit before they dug into your back, trying to unclasp your bra. For yet another brief moment you felt that familiar guilt holding you again, something he noticed as well as he froze together with you, dread bubbling up in the pit of his stomach for one short eternity.

Only when you arched your back up, silently allowing him to do as he wanted did he relax, pressing a long grateful kiss against your throat as his nimble fingers quickly undid your bra.

Only when he swiftly pulled your shirt and your bra away within one move did he separate from you, brown eyes darting over your nude upper body, drinking in the bewitching sight of you beneath him, so willing, so in love with him.

A soft sigh left his lips when your own hands started tugging at his shirt as you lifted your body up a bit, pressing a few kisse against his jawline as you returned the favor, his own hands joining you as he eagerly helped you until only the bandages covered parts of his upper body.

His head dug down, pressing reverent kisses all over your stomach, his lips traveling slowly upwards before his hot breath hit the sensitive flesh of your breasts. Your hands tightened into subtle fists reflexively, your heart fluttering in anticipation, your nipples already hardened from anticipation.

A soft moan spilled out of you when his lips finally wrapped around one of your sensitive nubs, his tongue twirling around the protruding flesh all whilst his other hand squeezed your other tit, his thumb playing around with your other nipple. The hand in his hair tightened, pulling him closer to your chest, encouraging him to keep going.

Your chest was tingling with pleasure you had never experienced by playing with yourself, some of that pleasure seeping into your lower belly.

Then he suddenly bit down. A jolt of sudden pain and pleasure shot through your sensitive chest, a hiss leaving your lips as your hand suddenly yanked at his brown hair.

Hundreds of little stings scratched his scalp, tickling some part of his brain just the right way where he felt a pleasant shudder going down his spine. A lusty groan of surprise left him, his hips bucking forward with the feeling.

"You... you little minx," he panted against your chest, the pleasurable stings still lingering on his scalp, the buzz still there in his mind as he switched sides, his tongue lapping around your other nipple and coating it in his spit.

"You're one to talk," you retorted with a groan, feeling the outline of his hardening cock against your clothed pussy. A needy pulse started making itself known in your pussy, slickness gathering as you started getting wet as he slowly started rutting against you like some pathetic dog.

Throaty grunts and moans left you as you reciprocated the movement of his hips, thrusting your hips upward to meet his own as both of you were grinding against the other. He could feel the heat of your pussy even through the layers of clothes separating the two of you, his own cock already straining against the material of his pants, begging to be released and swallowed by that inviting heat. His hips pressed down, trapping your own against him and the futon beneath you as he put his entire weight on top of you, more force now behind the way he grinded against your clothed sex, his pants getting faster as he tugged on your nipple with his teeth, the delicious pull on his hair only increasing.

A disappointed whine tore through your throat when the stimulation on one of your nipples was gone though it quickly turned into excitement when both of his hands trailed down to your hips, playing around with the button of your trousers.

It took more willpower than needed to keep his hips from jerking forward, his cock longing for stimulation as he pulled your trousers down, one of his hands squeezing the fat on the inside of your thighs whilst one of his fingers snuck beneath the material of your panties.

"Hmm~ Wet. You're already so wet, so needy for me my darling," he purred, his digit caressing the outline of your inner lips. The feeling of the heat and the slick had his manhood pulsing with need, his mind already delving into thoughts of inching himself into your warm and welcoming pussy.

He had to be patient for just a bit longer though.

One single, long finger hooked itself into the hem of your panties, pulling it agonisingly slow down which had you bite your lips in frustration. He was just playing with you right now.

Your panties pooled at your ankles uselessly as his finger slowly traced over your pussy, gathering the wetness that was seeping out of you, enjoying the little twitches your legs and body did when he rubbed over your clitoris.

"Osamu, please..." you groaned, bucking your hips slowly up, your cunt clenching with the need to be filled.

"Please what, darling?" he cooed sweetly, pressing a kiss against the swell of your breast.

"Please stop teasing me."

The tinge of embarrassment that coiled somewhere within your stomach didn't deter you much even as you started pleading for him to stop toying with you.

"You look cute when you beg," he chuckled adoringly, pressing a kiss against your nose as he started easing one of his fingers into your wet hole. Deep breaths exited your parted lips, your walls welcoming the intrusion of his digit eagerly as they sucked him in.

They were bony and long, reaching far into you and you let out a shaky breath when you felt his finger curling inside of you, the sharper edges of his bent joins rubbing deliciously against your hot and sensitive nerves.

"More please," you begged sweetly, your hand tugging his head closer as you pressed a wanting kiss against his lips. He reciprocated, lips curling into a smirk.

"So greedy," he gasped playfully in between the kisses, the theatrical impression of shock only slightly undermined by the feeling of another long finger pushing into you, stretching you out further, the feeling causing you to let out an appreciative moan into the kiss. When he added only seconds later a third finger into your wet channel you couldn't stop your hips from bucking against the long digits inside.

"You're so impatient. Look at you, so desperate to get fucked by my fingers," he crooned with that same sweet grin on his face, his thumb pressing against your throbbing clitoris which elicited your hips to jerk up once again. A muffled moan spilled past your lips as you started humping against his hand, low moans escaping you as long fingers scissored you open, slowly stretching you out as his thumb rubbed over your sensitive nub, stimulating you even more.

He could reach so much deeper than you, finger joints pressing against deeper parts of your vagina, his hand getting soiled in your juices.

You missed his fingers the moment he pulled them out, shooting him a frustrated glance which only seemed to amuse him more as he tilted his head with that grin on his face.

"Don't stop," you begged, your voice somewhere in between a groan and a whimper, your legs willingly spreading wider apart when you felt his hands squishing the soft inside of your thighs. He lowered his body between your legs, his tongue darting greedily over his lip as he saw what a soaked mess you'd become.

"I've barely started," he muttered as he pressed a kiss against your clit. Both of your hands reached out for his hair as you needed something to hold on to, especially once that long and squirmy muscle lapped up your juices, tracing over your clit and teasing the outside of your leaking hole.

"Osamu..."

The moment that wriggly tongue made its way inside of you your thighs clamped around him, pressing his head closer to your wet pussy as your hips started bucking and grinding against his face, the new sensation sending liquid pleasure down your spine. Soft moans escaped you with every breath by now, chasing after your high whilst smothering him between your thighs and against your slick womanhood.

If his muffled grunts and moans as well as the way his own hips bucked needily forward, desperately searching some kind of friction as well were anything to go by you knew that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

You felt the coil within you tighten, your moans increasing in quantity as your hands pulled on his brown locks harder, letting him know that you were getting close. His own quick pants fawned against your sensitive clit, his cock weeping with pre-cum as if begging him for release too. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs to restrain himself and the moment your thighs suddenly tightened in a chokehold around him and a gush of liquid stained his chin he let out a choked moan alongside with your own wail. If he would have been less of a man he wasn't sure if he would have been able to stop himself from cumming in his pants like an overeager teen.

His chest was heaving, his tongue cleaning your pussy before swiping around his own mouth, the taste of you an aphrodisiac that only had more pre-cum leaking out of the tip of his cock. The strained material of his own pants was almost painful by now.

You were still recovering from your orgasm when you heard Dazai unbuckling his pants with quick fingers before doing the same with his his underwear. Once his cock sprang to freedom he almost let out a sigh of relief, the tip of his manhood red and swollen with beads of pre-cum leaking out of it.

Your eyes watched his stiff member in anticipation but also mild nervousness, something Dazai quickly took notice of.

"Nervous?" he asked playfully though he still watched you carefully.

"It's my first time. Of course I'm somewhat nervous," you admitted, hating how bashful he got for a short moment.

"You're a virgin," he groaned, pressing hot kisses on your shoulders.

"You didn't know that I'm a virgin?" you asked flabbergasted.

"I knew.It's just that hearing you say that makes me want to fuck you so badly," he confessed in a slightly more husky tone, peppering your neck and your lips with kisses as he slowly positioned yourself. You tensed in need and some fear as well when you felt the tip of his cock dragging over your wetness before resting right over your clenching entrance.

“Don’t worry~I’ll make sure that what you’re about to lose is going to be worth it.”

With this promise he slowly eased himself inside of you, every inch disappearing inside of you. One of your hands came to wrap around his neck. Even though you'd already been fucked by his fingers and his tongue the feeling of his long cock entering you was still different, unfamiliar in a way where you couldn't tell just yet if you fully liked it or not.

Dazai on the other hand couldn't help the pathetic throaty moans leaving him as he got sucked deeper and deeper inside of you. Your warm walls were clenching already around his length, fondly remembering the orgasm his tongue had just given you and already eager for more.

His hand grabbed your own, squeezing it as he was emerged into feelings and sensations of such intensity and warmth that he was unfamiliar with. The other bandage of his arm loosened around his skin as he rested his forehead against yours for a few moments, trying to give you as well as himself time to get used to all the new things both of you were experiencing at the moment.

The sheer depth of his emotions had you choke on your breath when you opened your eyes once you started to get used to him completely sheated inside of you.

Long fingers locked with yours as a strange look of vulnerability suddenly overcame him, his own walls getting slowly stripped down now that both of you were connected physically in the most intimate way possible.

"I'll never let you leave me after tonight," he spoke, promised, with raw emotions, pressing one final kiss against your lips before he started moving, his shaft dragging out of you before sinking in balls deep, th sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small apartment.

Muffled moans, grunts and groans echoed through every room, his lips not leaving yours as if he needed you to breathe. Your nails dug into his bandages, your own hips eagerly meeting his own as both of you chased after your pleasure.

His own heart seemed to swell with each thrust that bathed you and him in addictive bliss, threatening to burst with so many feelings he didn't even knew he was capable of feeling.

In his past he had always wondered what heaven was like if there even was such a thing after death to begin with.

In this moment however he knew that his heaven was right here with you. Connected with you in body and spirit, your love right in his tight grasp as both of you indulged in each other he felt so good that it felt like he might die.

A heart that had only known emptiness for its entire life was suddenly filled to the brim with a warmth that almost parched him from the inside out yet he knew he'd throw himself willingly into those flames for the rest of his life.

"Yo- ooh~ you're getting close, aren't you?" he moaned against your lips, noticing your muscles taut to their limits, your walls almost feeling like they were trying to suck him in even deeper.

"Y-yes~" you whimpered out needily the second he interrupted his kiss to let you take a short breath, your fingers digging into his bandages as you felt that familiar coil within you tightened to its limit as his cock slid in and out of you, reaching even deeper within you, the tip of his head always perfectly abusing that one bundle of nerves within you over and over.

"Then cum. Cum around my cock."

You didn't know if he was trying to mock you or if he was begging you and perhaps not even Dazai knew clearly in that moment. It didn't matter in the end though as you felt the coil snapping once more, molten pleasure combusting within you as you shouted his name amidst your bliss.

The bandages around his neck were ripped off, your fingers removing them as you climaxed once more, revealing more scars on his skin and leaving him for the first time in years completely bare in front of someone. They unraveled much like the man who had worn them, his hips stuttering, his breath hitching, his balls tightening before he shoved himself inside of you. A low moan rumbled in his throat, his mind exploding with white bliss as he coated your insides with hot and sticky cum, hoping to fill you up even just a little bit just as you had filled his heart.

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Stardust by Neil Gaiman

Young Tristran Thorn will do anything to win the cold heart of beautiful Victoria—even fetch her the star they watch fall from the night sky. But to do so, he must enter the unexplored lands on the other side of the ancient wall that gives their tiny village its name. Beyond that old stone wall, Tristran learns, lies Faerie—where nothing not even a fallen star, is what he imagined.

Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls

Billy, Old Dan, and Little Ann—a boy and his two dogs...

A loving threesome, they ranged the dark hills and river bottoms of Cherokee County. Old Dan had the brawn, Little Ann had the brains—and Billy had the will to train them to be the finest hunting team in the valley. Glory and victory were coming to them, but sadness waited too. And close by was the strange and wonderful power that's only found...

The Witches by Roald Dahl

This is not a fairy-tale. This is about real witches. Real witches don't ride around on broomsticks. They don't even wear black cloaks and hats. They are vile, cunning, detestable creatures who disguise themselves as nice, ordinary ladies. So how can you tell when you're face to face with one? Well, if you don't know yet you'd better find out quickly-because there's nothing a witch loathes quite as much as children and she'll wield all kinds of terrifying powers to get rid of them.

The Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan

Since his mother's death six years ago, Carter Kane has been living out of a suitcase, traveling the globe with his father, the brilliant Egyptologist, Dr. Julius Kane. But while Carter's been homeschooled, his younger sister, Sadie, has been living with their grandparents in London. Sadie has just what Carter wants—school friends and a chance at a "normal" life. But Carter has just what Sadie longs for—time with their father. After six years of living apart, the siblings have almost nothing in common. Until now.

On Christmas Eve, Sadie and Carter are reunited when their father brings them to the British Museum, with a promise that he's going to "make things right." But all does not go according to plan: Carter and Sadie watch as Julius summons a mysterious figure, who quickly banishes their father and causes a fiery explosion.

Soon Carter and Sadie discover that the gods of Ancient Egypt are waking, and the worst of them—Set—has a frightening scheme. To save their father, they must embark on a dangerous journey—a quest that brings them ever closer to the truth about their family and its links to the House of Life, a secret order that has existed since the time of the pharaohs.

Hatchet by Gary Paulsen

Brian is on his way to Canada to visit his estranged father when the pilot of his small prop plane suffers a heart attack. Brian is forced to crash-land the plane in a lake--and finds himself stranded in the remote Canadian wilderness with only his clothing and the hatchet his mother gave him as a present before his departure.

Brian had been distraught over his parents' impending divorce and the secret he carries about his mother, but now he is truly desolate and alone. Exhausted, terrified, and hungry, Brian struggles to find food and make a shelter for himself. He has no special knowledge of the woods, and he must find a new kind of awareness and patience as he meets each day's challenges. Is the water safe to drink? Are the berries he finds poisonous?

Slowly, Brian learns to turn adversity to his advantage--an invading porcupine unexpectedly shows him how to make fire, a devastating tornado shows him how to retrieve supplies from the submerged airplane. Most of all, Brian leaves behind the self-pity he has felt about his predicament as he summons the courage to stay alive.

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell

On San Nicolas Island, dolphins flash in the surrounding blue waters, sea otter play in the vast kelp beds, and sea elephants loll on the stony beaches. Here, in the early 1800s, a girl named Karana spent eighteen years alone.

Karana had to contend with the ferocious pack of wild dogs that killed her younger brother, constantly guard against Aleutian sea otter hunters, and maintain a precarious food supply. Her courage, self-reliance, and grit has inspired millions of readers in this breathtaking adventure.

Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

Leo Borlock follows the unspoken rule at Mica Area High School: don't stand out--under any circumstances! Then Stargirl arrives at Mica High and everything changes--for Leo and for the entire school. After 15 years of home schooling, Stargirl bursts into tenth grade in an explosion of color and a clatter of ukulele music, enchanting the Mica student body.

But the delicate scales of popularity suddenly shift, and Stargirl is shunned for everything that makes her different. Somewhere in the midst of Stargirl's arrival and rise and fall, normal Leo Borlock has tumbled into love with her.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

For Milo, everything’s a bore. When a tollbooth mysteriously appears in his room, he drives through only because he’s got nothing better to do. But on the other side, things seem different. Milo visits the Island of Conclusions (you get there by jumping), learns about time from a ticking watchdog named Tock, and even embarks on a quest to rescue Rhyme and Reason! Somewhere along the way, Milo realizes something astonishing. Life is far from dull. In fact, it’s exciting beyond his wildest dreams. . . .

Black Beauty by Anna Sewell

As a young horse, Black Beauty is well-loved and happy. But when his owner is forced to sell him, his life changes drastically. He has many new owners—some of them cruel and some of them kind. All he needs is someone to love him again....

Whether pulling an elegant carriage or a ramshackle cab, Black Beauty tries to live as best he can. This is his amazing story, told as only he could tell it.

Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt

Doomed to - or blessed with - eternal life after drinking from a magic spring, the Tuck family wanders about trying to live as inconspicuously and comfortably as they can. When ten-year-old Winnie Foster stumbles on their secret, the Tucks take her home and explain why living forever at one age is less a blessing that it might seem. Complications arise when Winnie is followed by a stranger who wants to market the spring water for a fortune.