#ten years………folks we made it

[ssenza]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard - Companion Movie Posters

[savage-rhi]

✨️Magenta🔥

[dalishious]

Folks, I gotta be real with you: Yes I too am disappointed that there aren't more choices carrying over in The Veilguard from the last three games, but I think the current fandom rage is a little over the top. It's not the end of the world. Can we just take a breath for a second and remember that this new game is set in Northern Thedas, where 99% of decisions made in Southern Thedas ten or more more years ago of course aren't going to matter, if you think about it? And on a meta level, I imagine the goal is to make this game as friendly as possible to brand new players, not out of spite towards existing fans.

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

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[babe-a-yaga]

What was done to Isseya is one of my personal biggest upsets with this game. I loved her in Last Flight. She's a genuinely interesting, complex character, and given the themes of mistakes and regret present through Veilguard, it makes TOTAL sense for her to make an appearance! What makes no sense at all is for her to be reduced to a two dimensional villain with no clear motivation who's just...doing exactly the thing she fucked up in life? Except worse? I'm gonna summarize the events of last flight for the folks who haven't read it;

The first griffin Isseya put through the joining was already blighted in battle, and dying from it. Quickly. Griffins are extra sensitive to the Blight and any attempts made to join them resulted in the animals going berserk and tearing themselves, and anyone else in range, to pieces to get away from what was now in their veins.

In a well meaning, but misguided effort to save one of the animals she loved, she used blood magic to alter the griffon's mind, to convince it the Blight in it's system was just a regular cold, and it didn't need to fight it, then put it through the joining.

It worked, but it changed the griffon. Made it stronger, fight harder. More difficult to handle. The griffon ultimately went out in a spectacular blaze of glory, and people didn't know what she did, just that she did SOMETHING, and that griffon did ten griffons worth of damage on it's way out.

The fourth blight was far worse, far longer than any of the blights we have witnessed first hand. I think it lasted like 15 years? And it was going badly for Thedas. They ordered Isseya to do what she had done to the first griffon again as a last ditch to stand a chance at I *think* Starkhaven (it's been a little bit since I read last flight, so I'm sketchy on dates and what battles were fought specifically when). She hated doing this, but it was orders, and it was exploit this handful of griffons or watch the world die. She's a warden, she signed up to stop the blight at any cost. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice.

By the time her brother Garahel slays Andoral, she's had to blight a number of griffons, and the constant blood magic use has massively accelerated the blight in her own body. Her brother garahel is this golden haired pretty boy beloved by everyone who looks upon him, and Isseya looks so much like a ghoul at this point people are uncomfortable being in the same room as her. Even though this is completely due to her service to the wardens.

Then, the remaining joined griffons start going mad. And then it starts to spread to the other, non-joined griffons. In using blood magic to convince the griffons the blight was just a disease, she had caused it to become one. A contagious one.

It's one of the most interesting examples of how dangerous blood magic actually is we ever see. We're just told over and over "blood magic bad, slippery slope to killing people. Bad. Even if you use your own." And we never really see explicitly why it's an inherently dangerous form of magic until this.

Back to Isseya though. Garahel's lover's Griffon had a clutch of eggs sired by Garahel's Crookytail. Isseya, knowing there was no stopping what was now in motion with the griffons, set out to do her one last act of penance. She took, and purified those eggs, hid them in a ward that kept them in stasis, so that they might only hatch once the griffons were gone, and this disease had died with them, so they might have a chance. And then she hid the clues to their location, and begged that whoever find them not let them be used by the wardens again.

And then she went on her calling.

These are not the actions of a villain. Isseya EMBODIES the warden principal of sacrifice. But it isn't glorious battle rewarded by a quick death alongside an archdemon for her. It's death by inches, by blight, knowingly and willingly accelerated in her own body to stop it from consuming the world. Sacrificing her ideals, the animals she loves, her brother, Garahel. Isseya gives it all for the wardens, to end the blight, and is not thanked for it or remembered kindly.

And she did everything she could to seed the slightest bit of hope, that both in spite of her and because of her, griffons might return to the world, as free creatures.

Her Veilguard arc feels like really egregious character assassination, and I wish she had been given an ounce of the sympathy that other characters had been given. It made sense for her to be here, thematically, mistakes and regret, and good intentions still leading to bad ends, but she deserved the same opportunity for forgiveness and/or redemption that Solas, Mythal, Cyrian, even Illario got.

Isseya was done dirty by Veilguard.

[beckyninja]

Rude Awakening

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Sexual content, MDNI

Description: The Reader sends a long awaited message to her home world, only to receive a very unexpected reply.

Plot, lore, and spice in this one folks! (Also, please excuse the very cliched name I decided to use for the Reader's home world.)

This is a continuation of my Guilliman/Reader series. To read the previous parts, check out my Masterlist.

“Transmitting in one minute, Lady Heir.”

Guilliman watched you sit even straighter than before, if that were possible. You’d changed out of the light, flowing dresses he’d grown accustomed to seeing you in these past months, and back into the corseted gown you’d worn upon your first meeting. Your hair was pulled back into a severe bun, your hands tightly clasped on your lap.

Every sinew in your body radiated tension. He resisted the near overpowering urge to go to your side.

“No, Roboute. If I’m to be seen to be acting independently, in the interests of my world, I can’t sit in your shadow.” You’d leaned against him in the Thunderhawk during the flight to your ship, “No matter how I might wish to.”

When he made it clear he intended to be present for the event, and therefore his Ultramarine guards as well, Captain Takahashi suggested they move the whole operation to the spacecraft hangar. Glancing around, Guilliman understood why.

It had been ages since he’d existed in a space not built with giants in mind. Even the towering ceilings of this hangar seemed somehow claustrophobic after the sheer massiveness of The Macragge’s Honor. And that was not the only difference.

Not a candle in sight.

The air still smelled of fuel and chemicals, but the cloying aroma of incense was absent. Captain Takahashi must have driven her cleaning crew hard, for every surface gleamed clean and starkly bright under the artificial lighting.

It all looked so… new. Even the crew, standing at attention in their clean uniforms.

He heard his Ultramarines shifting in their armor and couldn’t blame them for their unease. The differences in culture and technology between your people and the Imperium had never been so obvious. The clash to come….

Guilliman’s gaze returned to you.

You feel it too, the mounting pressure. If we are to avoid bloodshed, you must walk a razor’s edge.

Again, the urge to go to you. His jaw clenched.

***

Your heart felt as though it was about to beat its way out of your chest. 

Strange, how quickly emotions could change. In the days since confessing your family’s sordid history to Roboute, you’d felt… lighter. Unafraid, for the first time in years. 

When he held you, all your grandmother’s torments and scheming seemed insignificant. You were untouchable. Safe.

The folly of such thoughts crashed upon you as you stared at the transmitter. An entire world’s fate rested on your words, on a diplomatic mission no one thought would succeed. 

A diplomatic mission some had done their best to ensure would not succeed. 

Will Grandmother listen to reason? Will the Grand Council? The Military? The Church? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting a rising tide of panic.

Am I leading my people down the path to annihilation?

“Connection established.” The technician’s voice sounded loud in the silence. “Transmitting in ten…”

Light guide me. Protect me against the chaos of the Void.

“...eight…”

Reveal my path and grant me wisdom to protect my people.

“...six…”

Illuminate the minds of those I speak to, that they may see the Truth.

“...four…”

I can’t do this! I can’t!

“...two…”

Your eyes flashed to Roboute. His burning blue gaze met your own. Strength. Courage. Love.

“Transmitting now.”

You lifted your chin and breathed deep. “Honored Matriarch, Grand Council, People of TerraNova, I speak to you today of a new dawn for our people. Six standard months ago, I set out upon a diplomatic mission to propose an alliance with the Imperium of Man.”

Calm settled over you with each word. “I am overjoyed to report the complete success of my mission. Roboute Guilliman, Lord Regent of the Imperium, has accepted our proposal. He has agreed to ensure our continued autonomy in exchange for technology and resources.”

And now for the bombshell.

“To seal this alliance, I have agreed to take the Lord Regent’s hand in marriage.”

***

“... I await your response so that a meeting between the Lord Regent and our beloved Matriarch may be arranged. May the Light, and the Lord of Light, bless the joining of our people. Thank you.”

Guilliman felt pride swell within him as the technician cut the transmission. He strode forward, boots thundering on the metal flooring. 

“You were magnificent, my dear.”

You looked up at him, face pale. “I pray it was enough.”

He reached out a hand, gently taking your tiny fingers in his own, and helped you to your feet. You swayed slightly.

Captain Takahashi appeared at your side, a glass in her hand. “Drink, Lady Heir. You did well.”

Guilliman made eye contact with the Captain as you drank.

She nodded. “I mean it, my Lord. Our leaders will be hard pressed to deny the logic of such a statement.”

He placed a steadying hand on your shoulders. “I have seen diplomats with lifetimes of experience fail to make so compelling an argument.”

“From anyone else,” you murmured, “I’d call that flattery.”

“I am not accustomed to praising the unworthy.”

“I know.” You smiled, face regaining some color, “Still, Void take me! I’m glad that’s over.”

Guilliman chuckled slightly. “How long before we can expect a response?”

Captain Takahashi shook her head. “Hard to say. The message should have been received almost instantaneously, but our leaders will need time to formulate a reply.” She hesitated. “Though, the Matriarch is known for her decisiveness.”

His armored hand tightened on your shoulder at the mention of your grandmother. “I am… eager to meet this woman.”

He sensed your tension returning. “Let us return to The Macragge’s Honor, my dear. We can-”

“Captain!” A shout from the technician drew everyone’s attention. “Incoming communication!”

Captain Takahashi strode to the console. “A recorded transmission?”

“Negative, Ma’am. Live.”

“Oh, Light….” Guilliman watched you wilt once more.

He pulled you against him. “From your homeworld, Captain?”

“We’re too far for a live message.” The Captain’s eyes remained fixed on the screens in front of her. “No. This originates from one of our naval vessels.”

“Lord Guilliman.” Sicarius spoke for the first time since entering this ship. “Transmission from The Macragge’s Honor. Long range scanners have picked up contacts exiting the Warp.”

He faced the Ultramarine. “Details.”

“Five ships of similar make to this one. One significantly larger. Numerous smaller vessels. All approaching rapidly.”

From the scowl on Sicarius’s face, Guilliman knew he expected an ambush. “Have we received any attempts at communication?”

“Negative, my Lord.”

“Captain?” The technician looked toward Captain Takahashi. “Do I answer?”

“Yes.”

Guilliman looked down at you in surprise. You reached up and placed your hand over his gauntlet on your shoulder, your expression determined.

“I will answer, Captain Takahashi. Put it on screen.”

A moment of silence, save for the persistent beeping of the console. “Very well, Lady Heir.”

You tried to pull away from his grasp. “Roboute-”

“No.” He walked with you, hand remaining on your shoulder. “This time, we stand together.”

***

You leaned back against Roboute, partly annoyed, partly grateful. In truth, you felt drained. A mere moments ago you’d wanted nothing more than to return to your quarters on the Imperial ship. Quarters that had rapidly begun to feel like “home”. 

No time for further thought before a figure appeared on screen. It was not who you expected.

The angular face. Hair that curled to his shoulders in defiance of every military regulation. Eyes that never seemed to rest in one place for more than a moment. All familiar, except for the red scar bisecting one cheek.

“Victor?!” 

“Hello, cousin. And, ah…,” his eyes moved behind and above you, “Lord Guilliman, I presume?”

The lack of decorum brought a flush of shame to your cheeks. You felt Roboute’s hands tighten ever so slightly on your shoulders.

“Lord Regent, may I introduce Prince Victor, son of-”

“Another prince, who was the son of a Patriarch, who was the husband of our beloved Matriarch, and so on and so forth. Second in line to the throne of TerraNova. Lord of the Fleet, etc.” Your cousin waved his hand dismissively. “Very pretty, very inconsequential titles.”

Void damn him! He hasn’t changed.  

“Victor, this is-”

“Quite possibly the most powerful man in the galaxy, yes I know.” He grinned, the expression twisted by the scar on his cheek. “And your intended! Congratulations, by the way.”

“An unexpected pleasure, Prince.” 

Roboute had once explained his multiple organs to you. Now, you felt him expand his third lung, giving his already deep voice an inhuman resonance that sent shivers across your skin.

Even through the screen, your cousin couldn’t remain unaffected. You felt a tiny thrill of satisfaction at seeing his cocky smile quiver.

“Unexpected for me as well… my lord. My fleet’s interception of my lovely cousin’s message necessitated this intrusion, I’m afraid.”

You stiffened. “The message? Did it-”

“Don’t fret, my dear. I’m sure our beloved Matriarch is frothing at the mouth as we speak. Unfortunately, she no longer has the power to act one way or the other.”

Dread pooled in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that she’s currently a prisoner in her own palace, cousin. Courtesy of the only other living member of our dynasty.” 

“Conrad?” The magnitude of the disaster struck you hard. “Oh, Light.”

“Clear the deck!” Captain Takahashi snapped.

You heard the retreating of many feet, and glanced up toward Roboute. He stared at the screen, mouth set in a grim line. The Ultramarines likewise remained.

“Victor, perhaps a more private-”

“What’s the point, sweet cousin? Your fiance and his…ah…warriors may as well know what kind of mess they’re about to sail into.” 

***

Guilliman could see why you disliked your family.

The nonchalant mockery dripping from every word this boy said, set his teeth on edge. He showed no regard for the devastation his little speech wrought on you, never once used your proper title. And something in the way he looked at you….

“So, there has been a coup.” He didn’t bother to hide the growl in his voice.

“Indeed.” The boy avoided his gaze. “Grandmother and what’s left of her personal forces are holed up in the capital whilst Conrad, bookish little Conrad, and his army lay siege.”

Guilliman felt you sag against him. “The Military?”

“Apparently they think he’ll be easier to control that dear old Granny, or me, for that matter. And they thought you were dead until a few minutes ago. So they’ve made him their figurehead.” He shrugged. “I don’t really even blame Connie, locked away in that monastery for so many years, he never did learn how to think for himself.”

“The Grand Council?”

“Ran off to the Eastern Continent. Putting up a decent fight, actually.”

You seemed to gather yourself. “So there’s still hope. Wait. They thought I was dead?”

“Oh, yes. Grandmother seemed certain of it. Was almost ready to announce it to the people.” A grating laugh. “I can only imagine her expression when your message came through. I know it shocked the Void out of me.”

Guilliman spoke again. “You called yourself ‘Master of the Fleet’. This implies you have control of your world’s naval forces.”

“Those personally loyal to me, yes.”

“Your mercenaries?” You shook your head. “Victor, they’ll turn on you as soon as you can no longer pay them.”

The boy’s expression turned dark. “They’re loyal, little cousin. Ever since I saved their asses from Grandmother’s order of execution. You can count on that.”

Guilliman didn’t care for his tone. “What are your intentions here, prince?”

He ignored him, darting eyes settling on you. “You need to come home, cousin. Immediately. With me. The people are confused and divided.”

“We need to present a united front.” You nodded slowly.

Guilliman tightened his grip on your shoulders.

“You always were the smartest of us.” Your cousin smirked. “I’ll send a transport immediately.”

Captain Takahashi joined the conversation. “I will gladly transport the Lady Heir on board this ship, my prince.”

“Ah, the ever loyal Captain! You know we all thought you dead too? I appreciate the offer. But we both know my Predator is faster than your little cruiser. And speed is paramount.” He waved a hand. “You can follow along at your own pace.”

“A third option.” Guilliman tried to make eye contact with the prince, but his gaze kept sliding away. “The Lady remains aboard my flagship, and we follow you to your homeworld.”

“Cousin, would you like to explain to your fiance why that won’t work?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “For me to arrive with an Imperial fleet-”

The boy interrupted once again. “It would certainly look like a conquering horde, now wouldn’t it? Unless, of course, that’s your intention.”

“Victor!”

He leered. “It would be clever. Take advantage of our weakened, divided state and swoop in to add us to your collection of worlds. Your marriage to my cousin would give you just enough legitimacy to preserve your image. Assuming, of course, that you Imperials care about such things.”

“I gave my word to the Lady that this would be an alliance, not a conquest.” Guilliman managed to catch the boy’s direct gaze and hold it. “I intend to keep my word.”

He paled and, once again, his eyes darted away. “Well, well. How noble.”

Your hand reached up and grasped one of the gauntlet’s on your shoulders. “Do not make such an insinuation again, cousin.”

A corner of Guilliman’s mouth tipped up at the indignation in your voice.

“Still,” you murmured, “an Imperial fleet, much less the flagship of the Lord Regent, arriving at this time could cause widespread panic.”

And undermine any hope of peaceful compliance.

He never desired unnecessary bloodshed, not even in the days of the Great Crusade. The idea of attacking your homeworld appealed to him even less. Still, to send you alone into the hands of this arrogant princeling… into a war zone….

“Should she agree to this, the future Lady of Ultramar will be accompanied by an Ultramarine guard.”

An astounded murmur from the Ultramarines behind him. Your head snapped up, mouth opening in shock.

The boy remained silent for a moment, blinking. “I…ah… of course. Of course! You want to protect your investment. I understand.” He made a show of peering at the Ultramarines. “I suppose we’ll make them fit somehow.”

You turned back to the screen. “Give me one standard day, Victor. Then send your transport.”

“Agreed. It will be ever so nice to see you in person again, cousin. I’m sure we’ll get this mess sorted in no time.”

The transmission ended.

You pressed your face into your hands. “Void damn it all. Just when things were going so well.”

Guilliman looked down at you. Sometimes he forgot how young and inexperienced you were. You’d learn soon enough.

Nothing ever goes to plan.

***

You stood in the midst of your quarters aboard The Macragge’s Honor, and tried desperately not to weep. 

A fool. I’m a damned fool.

You thought back over the last months. All your life, you’d heard horror stories of the Imperium. Its cruelties. Its fanaticism. How ironic that the best moments of your life so far had been spent here, onboard its flagship.

With him. 

You’d told yourself it could last forever. That all would be well.

Damn you, Conrad. Why? Why now?

You bent to pick a piece of clothing off the floor, only for your corset to tighten further around your chest. Sudden rage filled you.

“Off, get off!”

It had taken two attendants to help you put the thing on. Tears of frustration filled your eyes as you clawed at the hooks and laces to no avail. 

“Void damn it!” 

Behind you, the door hissed open. You recognized the presence even before he spoke.

“Are you all right, my love?”

You didn’t dare turn around, face burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Roboute. I just… I can’t….” You sniffled like a child.

“Let me.”

“You don’t have to- ah!”

A wrench and the sound of tearing fabric. The corset fell away. You gasped, catching it against your breasts. Your mind went blank.

A thud behind you made the floor shake. Then, hot breath on your bare back. The heat seemed to spread across your skin, burning away the rage and frustration, until only longing remained.

“Roboute….”

Lips pressed against the back of your bare shoulders. Impossibly large hands circled your hips, holding you immobile. 

“It seems our marriage will be delayed.” His deep voice resonated within you. “But, by the Throne, I will have this.”

You could only whimper in reply as the lips traced across your shoulders, your neck, and down your spine. The hands on your hips slid upward until they met the corset you still clutched to your chest.

Light forgive me.

You let the piece of clothing drop to the floor, and gasped as the hands covered your breasts. 

“So soft.” He rumbled.

No one had ever touched you like this. You whined as he began to squeeze and knead, calloused skin against your nipples sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Liquid warmth pooled between your legs.

You felt yourself yanked back into a hard chest, only then realizing he’d sunk to his knees. His forehead came to rest on your shoulder. One hand continued to play with your chest, while the other spread down over your belly.

“Tell me to stop.”

“No.”

I want this.

He groaned, and the hand on your belly moved lower, fingers dipping beneath the waist of your skirt and underclothes. You suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“I heard you last night.” He rasped. “I heard you touching yourself, calling my name as you climaxed.”

“Oh, Light!” You should feel ashamed, but his words only stoked the fire within.

“I almost went to you. Throne, I have wanted to go to you every night since the first. Now you are leaving me, and I cannot….” A deep, gasping breath. “I cannot hold back anymore.”

You moaned his name.

“Show me how to bring you pleasure.”

You reached one hand behind you, carding your fingers into blond hair, feeling the massive demigod shiver at your touch. With the other hand, you guided his hand lower, until his fingers met your wet center.

Both of you hissed at the sensation.

“L-like this….”

Spreading your legs a little wider, you pushed his fingers until they brushed against your nub. Your back arched at the sudden sting of pleasure.

He caught on quickly, beginning to rub circles. You ground against his hand, revelling in the wantonness of your actions. Enough with decorum. Enough with following the rules. You wanted him.

You wanted your husband.

“Roboute, faster!” 

He obeyed. And you writhed, no longer recognizing the sounds that came out of your mouth. You heard only his deep, panting breaths against your shoulder. You felt only his fingers against you. Nothing else mattered.

As you leaned back against him, you felt something hard against your rear. You’d felt it before, when he held you down atop his desk. Without hesitation, you rubbed against it, and he let out a strangled growl.

“Yessss….”

His hips began to move. Even as he rubbed you, his massive hand also pressed you back against him. You felt him hard and hot through his tunic. And big. So big. It should have frightened you.

Instead you felt the tension inside you grow tighter. 

“Roboute, I… I…!”

“Give it to me.” He snarled. “Only to me.”

The tension snapped. You opened your mouth, but no words came. Your vision went white. 

Hot and wet and so so good…!

The sudden sting of teeth in your shoulder. A muffled roar. Scalding liquid against your lower back.

And then all was soft, melting warmth. You went limp, and he caught you against him. You felt the swelling of his chest, the thunder of his double heartbeat.

“My love…mine….” He turned your boneless body until you looked up into his sweat-streaked face. “Forgive me.”

You snuggled into his chest. “There’s nothing to forgive, my husband.”

He shuddered at your words. “My beautiful little wife.”

For a moment you stayed there, keeping the outside world at bay.

“Just a little while longer, Roboute.” You whispered. “And then I’ll never leave you again.”

***

Guilliman remembered your words as he watched the transport depart. In the end, only one of his Ultramarines had gone with you. The ship your cousin sent simply couldn’t fit any more.

He hadn’t been surprised when Tarchus volunteered for the duty. He believed, in his own way, the Ultramarine had grown rather fond of you in the past few weeks. And the man was capable. He’d keep you safe.

Still, what I would not give to be the one at her side.

The previous night with you in his arms had been an indescribable joy. Whatever the Ecclesiarchy might have to say on the matter, you were bound to him now. Even if he hadn’t had you fully. Not yet.

He had plans for that. Some customs he couldn’t quite bring himself to disregard. Such as the matter of a ring.

“Roboute, it’s beautiful!” You’d gasped as he slipped the gold and sapphire band on your finger.

“And long overdue. It belonged to my mother, one of the few things I have left of her.”

Your eyes had widened. “Are you sure-?

“I am.” He’d smiled down at you. “She would have liked you, I think.”

“I’ll treasure it.”

“I have added one thing.”

He’d shown you the device embedded inside the band. “Captain Takahashi graciously gave me this. I intend to take my fleet to the asteroid belt her star maps show lies just beyond your system. If you need me, press the largest gem in the ring. A beacon will activate.”

He’d grasped your chin, ensuring you looked into his eyes. “And I will come for you.”

He would, he vowed. Even if he had to carry you off like the barbarian warlord your people thought him to be.

“My Lord,” one of the baseline crew suddenly spoke up, “something’s happening.”

His eyes never left the departing transport. “Yes?”

“One of their fighters seems to be malfunctioning. It is moving erratically.”

“More power to the forward void shields.” Captain Sicarius barked.

A tiny ship, smaller than a Thunderhawk, appeared in the corner of Guilliman’s eye. It twisted and bucked as if the pilot had gone mad. And yet….

The crewman continued. “If it keeps its current course, it will not impact any Imperial ships, my lord.”

A horrible revelation flashed through Guilliman’s mind. “Fire on that ship!”

“My lord?”

“Now!” He lunged toward the hangar opening, as if he could reach out and strike the ship down himself. “NOW.”

He heard the crewmen frantically issuing vox orders, and yet knew they wouldn’t matter. It was too late.

The fighter screamed toward your transport.

“No.”

Your pilot must have seen the threat. He jerked the ship away, but the fighter followed.

“NO.”

Impact.

Guilliman dropped to his knees as all the light left in his life went out.

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[aanglican]

uncle iroh is treated very much like a paragon of virtue in the series. yes we know he has had a violent past, that he has done terrible things, committed atrocities in the service of the fire nation— but we don’t really feel it because all of that had happened off screen and prior to the series. instead, he comes to us as a more perfect being and one deified with secret good deeds revealed throughout the story: uncle iroh is the keeper of the dragons and an important member of the white lotus, he is just that awesome.

uncle iroh is so divorced from his immediate past that we don’t see him haunted by any of it unless it’s by lu ten— which begs the question: did he really turn his back on the fire nation due to a moral awakening or was it only/mostly for his own good? he certainly doesn’t behave in a manner you’d expect from a repentant ex-imperialist: he’s not too worried about walking the streets of ba singe se, let alone actually staying there after the war ended. (the same war he participated in on the side of the aggressors, mind you.) he is shameless enough to be living there while hiding away and was unscrupulous in accepting hospitality from earth kingdom folks who were made refugees by the fire nation, i.e., song’s family. does he not feel guilty or at least uncomfortable with his circumstances, especially since it has only been 5 or so years since the siege at ba sing se and thus still very fresh in the grand scheme of things? is iroh just that Enlightened and At Peace with his past that it doesn’t color his every movement? or is his lack of a moral hangover just a writing oversight? were they scared to make their most lovable character in a rated TV-Y7 cartoon a tad more polarizing?

while uncle iroh does his job well for the story— that is, to act as zuko’s guiding light— i do wish he were knocked off his pedestal a bit more. uncle iroh is, after all, the proto-zuko to ozai’s proto-azula. i wish to see him at least slightly paranoid about people recognizing him from his military days and vice versa. i wish to see him uneasy about being in the earth kingdom (out of guilt? as opposed to zuko’s superiority complex and anger). i wish to see him meet another person who also has visible burn scars, one that has nothing to do with zuko/his family, and still look away in shame or disgust by the implications. et cetera et cetera. anything to indicate he feels something more about himself and other people that isn’t just Wise Old Man.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Everything you do is perfect

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 15

Prompt: Ornament

Rated: T

Tags: Established relationship; Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Christmas; Steve Harrington has bad parents; Eddie Munson is a sweetheart; Making out

“Stevie. Hey, Stevie.”

Steve turns away from the giant clump of string lights he’s been trying to disentangle for the past ten minutes to find his boyfriend standing in front of their Christmas tree, sporting a shit-eating grin and what looks like a wig made of silver tinsel. He has pinned a tiny, red bauble to his sweater, just in the spot where his left nipple used to be.

“What d’you say?” Eddie says, doing a suggestive little wiggle of his hips and giving the bauble a flick with his finger. It jingles. “Think I should wear this to the Byers’ Christmas party?”

“Yeah, you could do that,” Steve says. “If you wanna sleep on the couch, that is.”

Eddie shrugs and settles back onto the floor, all in one jerky collapse of bony shoulders and gangly limbs. The tinsel wig sparkles as he pulls the box he was going through back into his lap. For a while, the only sound is that of the Christmas songs playing on the radio.

“You sure your folks won’t miss any of this?” Eddie asks, pulling more baubles out of the box and setting them down on the floor all around himself. Red and gold and silver, some adorned in sparkly white snowflakes and little winter scenes.

Steve shakes his head and goes back to tugging on his tangle of lights. “They haven’t been home for the holidays in forever. I think the last time we had a Christmas tree, I was like ten? I mean, they haven’t even noticed I’m gone, so they sure as hell won’t be missing a few dusty boxes from the attic.”

Eddie says nothing, and when Steve glances up, he’s still staring into the box of baubles. His mouth has twisted in displeasure, and it tugs on the gnarly scar on his jaw.

“Shit,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna ruin the mood.”

Eddie shakes his head so vehemently it makes the bauble-turned-nipple sway. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, big boy. They don't know what they're missing, right?”

Steve looks at him - the bright, toothy smile and the wild hair under the tinsel wig. The baubles scattered all around him twinkle in the lights of their tiny living room. The tree they've picked is a bit on the large side, but Eddie wanted it, and Steve has found he’s unable to say no to those large, pleading cow eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you're right.”

Eddie nods smugly, turning his attention back to his box. “Of course I am, I'm always- … oh, what's this?”

Paper rustles and baubles jingle as he crams his arms all the way into the box to pull something out from the very bottom. When Steve sees what it is, an unpleasant heat spreads under his shirt collar.

“Oh fuck, I had no idea that was in there,” he blurts. He reaches over, but the string lights are all tangled around his legs and before he can do anything, the room tilts out from under him. Eddie catches him with an arm around his waist and they go crashing to the floor in a graceless heap of limbs and tinsel.

“Did you make this?” Eddie asks, holding the small star up over their heads. It's made of salt dough, and all wonky and lopsided. Steve remembers being six years old and attempting to pry it out of the cookie cutter. “It's adorable.”

“Yeah, right,” Steve snorts, trying to snatch the ornament, but Eddie twists out of his reach. Steve shoves his hands under his sweater and starts tickling, and things sort of escalate from there. By the time they pause to catch their breath, Steve's shirt has ridden up to somewhere near his chest, his lips are sore from kissing, and the tree is slightly lopsided because they rolled into it.

“It really is cute, though,” Eddie says. His wig has slipped and there's a tiny hole in his sweater where the improvised nipple tore off. One of his hands is still cradling the little star between them, keeping it safe like a treasure. “Are there more?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. There were, but I thought we'd thrown them all out.”

He recalls coming home from school, proudly presenting the ornaments to his mom. The way she smiled absentmindedly, putting them away on top of the fridge and going back to her phone call. She never put them up, neither that year nor the following one. They had some of his dad's business associates over, and the house needed to be perfect. Soon after that, they started going away for the winter holidays.

Eddie watches his face and frowns.

“You know what?” he then says, swatting at the baubles on the floor and sending them scattering into the corners. “Fuck this crap! We should make a whole batch of these little babies, decorate the entire tree with them. We can get started right now, I think we have all the ingredients.”

He rolls off Steve and jumps to his feet, already headed for the kitchen, but Steve catches him with a hand around his wrist and pulls him back to the floor.

“I dunno, Eddie. Whatever I'd end up making probably won't look much better than this, and I sort of want the tree to look perfect on our first Christmas together.”

Eddie chuckles.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he says. The tinsel wig tickles Steve’s cheek as he leans in for a firm kiss on the lips. “That's exactly the point. Whatever you make will be perfect to me.”

They spend the rest of the night making a mess of the kitchen, baubles and lights forgotten on the living room floor. Steve can't imagine anything better.

More holiday drabbles

[avatar-anna]

Unknown Number

someone made a request about reader accidentally being given harry's number, but i accidentally deleted it, so if you requested it, here it is!

(the text chain will be from harry's point of view)

italics: y/n (unknown number)

bold: harry

Part Two

Part Three

Unknown Number (UN): heyy. i had a really good time the other night. maybe we could do it again sometime? xx (click to download image)

Harry Styles (HS): How did you get this number?

UN: you gave it to me?

UN: last night at the pub? marcus, right?

HS: No. You have the wrong number.

UN: is this a joke? are you fucking with me right now?

HS: No.

UN: oh my god

UN: i feel like such an idiot

UN: one of the first times a guy gives me his number at a bar and he gives me the wrong number

UN: probably on purpose too

UN: i should've known when he left his OWN APARTMENT the next morning but i was actually hopeful

UN: and now i've made an ass of myself here too. sorry to bother you i'll leave you alone. sorry again

(one hour later)

HS: It's okay. Sorry about that guy. Sounds like a jerk.

(twenty minutes later)

UN: it's fine, i guess

UN: i wasn't in love with him or anything but he could've had the decency of expressing his disinterest himself instead of hiding behind a fake number.

HS: That is quite a dick move.

HS: I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't expecting that text. I didn't open the picture either by the way.

UN: thank you. for a moment i was worried i was messaging a creep, but hopefully you're not a creep

UN: i mean you could be still and i'd have no idea

UN: maybe i should stop texting you

(ten minutes later)

HS: I'm not a creep.

UN: that's exactly what a creep would say

HS: I don't really know how to prove it to you. You're the one who sent me a photo of yourself half naked. You could be the creep.

UN: you said you didn't open it!

HS: I was trying to be polite!

UN: great now some 40 year old living in his parents basement has one of my nudes

HS: I'm not 40! And I don't live in my parents basement

UN: you text like an old man

HS: wuld u rather i txt like ths???

UN: no but i'm just saying i don't know many people my age who use proper punctuation in text messages

HS: Well I might not be your age, but I'm certainly not 40

UN: "certainly not." you're right. you sound like my grandpa

HS: I suddenly regret restarting a conversation with you

UN: you know despite the fact that you might be catfishing me, i've enjoyed this. i feel like i'm doing what all the other teen girls did in high school at sleepovers

HS: So you're out of high school.

UN: creep!

HS: You outed yourself, that's not on me.

UN: you...might be right

UN: can you tell me something about yourself to make it even? there's always a possibility that you could be lying and i have no reason to trust you, but...idk i feel like i can

HS: Well that's stupid.

HS: But I suppose since I've already seen you partially naked...

UN: i'm blocking your number

HS: My first name is H, and I'm 20 years old.

UN: h? just the letter h?

HS: You could be a creep too for all I know

UN: fair enough. i'm june

HS: Full name? Wow, you really are a dummy.

UN: don't get your 60 year old panties in a twist. it's a nickname

HS: June is a nickname?

HS: And I'm not 60.

UN: june. june bug. that's what the folks call me

HS: Folks? Now who sounds old?

UN: whatever

(thirty minutes later)

HS: Well, it was nice talking to you, June. June bug.

UN: you too h

(three days later)

June (J): you're a guy right?

HS: I'm sorry?

J: well when i first texted you i thought you were a guy, but you weren't THAT guy, so i have no idea

J: i just assumed but i thought i would ask

J: plus i need solicited guy advice and if you're not a creep i would really appreciate it

HS: We're back to me being a creep?

J: it's a risk every time i text you

J: so? are you a dude?

HS: Yes.

J: great! can i ask you something?

HS: Um...I guess...

J: ok. would you ever get offended if a woman covered their drink during a conversation with you?

HS: I'm not following...

J: like say we're at a bar and we're talking and i turn my head away for some reason but i put my hand over my drink until i look back at you to prevent it from being spiked. would you be offended by that?

HS: No. Why?

J: see? i don't think that's unreasonable. some loser got mad at me for doing that. well EXCUSE ME for not immediately trusting the guy i matched with on tinder

J: who was not as cute in real life i might add

HS: You don't have the best taste in guys.

J: that is not advice!

HS: Okay, here's my advice: don't swipe right on guys who have mirror selfies in their profile.

J: ...

J: ok fair enough but it's not like prince charmings are falling from the sky. it's hard out here

HS: I'm sure.

J: what you don't have the same problem?

HS: I don't really date.

J: in like a douchey way? are you one of those guys who say they just fuck?

HS: I just don't have time for dating, I guess.

J: so no special someone?

HS: No.

(four hours later)

HS: If you asked for advice, does that mean I can too?

(one hour later)

J: sorry i was at work

J: and i don't see why not

HS: What do you think about guys who wear skinny jeans?

J: hm...i think styled right it could be nice

J: YSL is kind of pushing the whole skinny jeans and chelsea boots thing which might eventually trickle down to the losers i match with on tinder so...why not? i say dress how you want

J: any guy who has a good sense of style is sexy to me

J: sorry if that wasn't the answer you were looking for

HS: Yes and no. I've been experimenting with different styles. Sometimes I get a little in my head about it.

J: doesn't everyone?

HS: I guess you're right.

HS: Do you follow fashion shows and things like that?

HS: That's not too personal, is it?

J: no, but it's kind of embarrassing

HS: Not as embarrassing as sending a complete stranger a picture of yourself in your bra

J: harsh...but fair

J: fashion is kind of my religion

J: i'm trying to become a stylist. keyword trying

HS: That's cool!

J: tell that to my family

HS: they don't support you?

J: nope! but i'm gonna do it anyway!

HS: Do you have a favorite designer?

J: it kinda depends on the year and who was creative director at the time, but the first time i got my hands on vintage vivienne westwood i was hooked

J: you?

HS: I'm just starting to explore the fashion world I guess you could say.

J: well lucky for you i happen to be a bit of an encyclopedia when it comes to house codes

HS: House codes?

J: oh boy. i hope you're comfortable. we might be here a while

(two days later)

HS: Have you ever had rumors spread about you?

J: i don't think so

J: oh wait! in eighth grade this girl in my class told everyone i made out with a boy at the school dance which was NOT true

J: it was just a peck

HS: Naughty.

J: it was harmless. why do you ask?

HS: There's a rumor going around about me. It's just frustrating when people actually believe it. sometimes it gets to the point where i start to believe it myself.

J: i'm sorry. i won't pry or anything, but i know what it feels like to not be understood

HS: I just hate the feeling of being under a microscope. It's exhausting. I feel like my life isn't my own sometimes.

J: that sucks

J: sorry that was in no way helpful, but i don't really know what to say. is there someone you can talk to about this?

HS: ...

J: oh! i actually feel kind of honored

J: well, obviously i don't know the whole situation, but maybe try and surround yourself with people who don't scrutinize you so much?

HS: Easier said than done.

J: true but i think if you have a solid group of people who know you and understand you and like you for who you are, it's easier to deal with things like rumors and being under the proverbial microscope, you know?

J: and don't be afraid to get rid of the toxic people in your life! it's not easy but you'll be better off in the long run

HS: sometimes it's hard to tell who's toxic and who's not

J: start with the people who would never believe a rumor about you, or the ones who would never START one about you

HS: Well said, June Bug.

J: thanks! maybe i should entertain a career in counseling

(one month later)

HS: Why June Bug?

J: i was born in the summer. it was a nickname my grandparents gave me. been called that ever since

HS: That's sweet.

J: there are worse nicknames i suppose. i have a cousin that got stuck with chip because he used to stuff his face like a chipmunk when he was little

HS: Yikes.

J: you're telling me

(three weeks later)

J: have you ever danced alone in your bedroom to stevie nicks?

HS: Have you?

J: i have, and can i just say she does NOT get enough credit as a songwriter?

HS: Edge of Seventeen?

J: edge of seventeen

J: i went on a date last week with a guy who had the AUDACITY to call her music mediocre

HS: You didn't see him again did you?

J: ...

HS: June!

J: just once! and only because he had really nice hands

HS: I don't get how that would make you stay with a stevie hater...

J: REALLY nice hands ;)

HS: You disappoint me sometimes.

J: ;))))

(fifteen minutes later)

J: hey you never answered my question about dancing in your room!

HS: ...No comment...

(one week later)

J: you ever been in love, h?

HS: I can't say that I have. Have you?

J: no ://

J: i think i want it too much. i've always just been in love with the idea of falling in love, you know?

J: but the reality isn't what i thought it would be

HS: I'm sorry.

HS: It probably won't help but I'm sure you'll find someone. You seem like a great person. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.

J: aw h you're making me blush!

HS: But perhaps you should stop looking for love on a hookup app

J: annnd good feeling gone

(two weeks later)

HS: Guess who has two thumbs and got invited to Paris Fashion Week!

J: no fair!

J: and that joke doesn't work if i can't see you point to yourself. it doesn't work period

HS: I will let that slide because I know you're just jealous.

J: are you kidding me? OF COURSE i'm jealous! i can't believe you get to see Alessandro Michele's work up close

HS: Who?

J: don't think because we only communicate through text that i can't strangle you

HS: Relax. I'm only joking.

HS: Alessandro is a friend ;))

(ten minutes later)

J: sorry i just had to scream into my pillow

J: what exactly do you do again?

HS: I told you. I work in the industry.

J: but that could mean anything! the cosmetics industry, the movie industry, the meat packing industry...

HS: Meat packing?

J: you know what i mean!

HS: I do a lot of PR.

J: see. that wasn't so hard now was it?

HS: Can I go back to gloating?

J: only if you promise to give me a full report afterwards you go to all the shows

HS: Deal.

(four days later)

HS: Favorite movie?

J: that's hard...

J: it's probably cliche but the devil wears prada

HS: Good choice.

J: what about you?

HS: The Notebook.

J: really?

HS: Yes. Why?

J: do you say that to impress girls or because it's actually your favorite?

HS: Would you rather I have said a film with lots of car chases?

J: no

J: but i went out with a guy who was a film major once

HS: Is that a bad thing?

J: let's just say it won't be happening again

J: he thought he was superior for disliking popular movies. i hate that

HS: Well, I love The Notebook and I love Ryan Gosling

J: now THAT is something we can agree on!

(six weeks later)

J: BIG NEWS

J: LIKE HUGE

J: GROUNDBREAKING

HS: And here I was thinking you forgot about me.

J: i texted you yesterday

HS: You asked me if my dick could move on its own.

J: a legitimate question! i nearly had a heart attack when i saw it in person

J: but i was also weirdly fascinated. my question was purely scientific!

HS: You said you had news?

J: right!

(twenty minutes later)

HS: Are you making me wait to create anticipation?

J: no sorry i got a phone call.

J: i got my first real gig as a stylist

HS: That's great! Congratulations!

J: thanks

HS: You don't sound excited anymore. What happened to all caps?

J: my mother happened

HS: Still not on board, then?

J: she told me it was a waste of time and that i should get a real job

HS: You're still gonna take it though right?

J: i don't know. maybe she's right. the pay is less than ideal. more like i'm being paid in experience, and it's not the clientele i was imagining...

HS: But it's a foot in the door, right? That's something.

J: i guess

HS: Make connections. Get good references. And who knows, you might actually enjoy yourself.

J: you're right.

J: it's for some up and coming band that's going on tour. pretty sure i was what they could afford

HS: Don't sell yourself short. You're gonna do great.

J: thanks. i hardly even know you and you're currently my biggest supporter

HS: What happened to Bill?

J: ancient history

HS: What was wrong with him? He seemed nice.

J: yeah

J: his girlfriend thought so too.

HS: On behalf of all men: Sorry. We truly are the worst.

J: agreed. what about you? still single?

HS: Yes, though people keep trying to set me up on dates.

J: the horror!

HS: Ha ha

HS: I just want to meet someone on my own terms.

J: i get that

J: i just want to meet someone who's actually a decent human being

HS: I'll be on the lookout.

(three weeks later)

J: i think i've decided that tour life is not for me

HS: oh?

J: yeah. sitting on a bus for hours and hours with only myself to keep me company? no thanks

HS: it can't just be you on the bus can it?

J: no but i have a hard time making friends right away. and a lot of the crew for this tour are older than me

HS: are your clients nice at least?

J: yeah. one of them tried to hit on me, which i guess i should take as a compliment, but i am on the clock. no flirting for me

HS: a professional then. or are you not into the musician type?

J: not sure. i haven't dated one before

J: i told you that the other day

HS: right. must've slipped my mind

HS: but back to taste in men. is it all about looks for you or do you like funny guys?

HS: are you the type to sleep with someone on the first date? because i feel like that's very telling about a girl

J: who is this?

HS: what do you mean? it's me

J: it's not. you're not texting like a middle aged woman and you're acting like a total ass

HS: Sorry. I thought I'd try something new. And I was just curious. Can't blame a guy for asking right? You did send some guy you barely knew a picture of yourself

HS: It was very wholesome by the way. Maybe try a little more skin next time and you'll get the response you want. You can practice here if you'd like.

J: oh my god

HS: What?

J: this was a mistake. i'm such an IDIOT

J: was this some kind of prank?

J: whoever you are, you're sick

J: don't text me again

HS: June, I'm so sorry. That was my friend he was just being stupid.

HS: Last time I leave my phone anywhere.

HS: June?

HS: June please.

HS: That wasn't me I swear!

HS: I'm sorry.

(three weeks later)

HS: Day 21 of trying to get you to respond.

HS You probably blocked me which is fine. I don't blame you.

HS: But if you DO happen to read these and are just ignoring me...

HS: I'm sorry. Again. For like the millionth time.

J is typing...

HS: June?

J: i should've blocked you

HS: Why didn't you?

J: because as insane as it sounds, you've become a close friend

HS: I feel the same. I'm really sorry about before. I swear it was one of my mates. I would never say something like that.

J: that's what makes this whole thing crazy! i don't actually know you, so how do i know if i can trust you?

HS: I mean you even noticed that he wasn't texting like me. I would never ask you questions like that, June. I never have.

HS: And I do NOT text like a middle aged woman by the way

J: i guess that's true

J: i think it just doubled down the fact that we don't actually know each other. this whole thing is ridiculous if you think about it too long. it gives me a headache sometimes.

J: i know we've joked about it but...this could be potentially dangerous

HS is typing...

HS: I could send you a voice note.

J: you would do that?

HS: You're right. This whole thing is ridiculous but...I don't know, I trust you, and I consider you a friend.

J: a friend you say?

HS: That's all I'm willing to admit for one day

J: and what about tomorrow?

HS is typing...

HS (voice recording): Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

(one day later)

Y/n hated how much her stomach flipped every time her phone pinged with a new message.

It was so reckless and dangerous and utterly ridiculous. She didn't know who H was, she didn't even know what time zone he lived in, and yet she felt like she knew him.

And after hearing his deep voice—deep British voice—on the voice recording, Y/n determined that he wasn't some creep in his forties like she'd originally thought.

Since sending that voice recording, they'd sent each other messages like that all night. And by all night she meant all night. They stayed up late sending voice recordings back and forth. It was the longest conversation they'd held to date, which was surprising considering that they often missed each other during certain hours. Just based on what hours of the day they texted the most, Y/n figured H lived somewhere in Europe, which gave her peace of mind considering he couldn't exactly kidnap her if he was a whole ocean away. But the last couple weeks their schedules seemed to be lining up, though Y/n chalked it up to all the traveling she'd been doing lately.

One thing she was certain of was that she adored H's voice. It was soft and deep, but got raspier the longer they spoke. And at times he would whisper in his messages, like he had to keep his voice down. The hushed tones made her shiver.

Y/n didn't call H, and he never offered. But she wanted to, boy did she want to. No matter how terrifying that thought was. A full-fledged phone call seemed more...real to Y/n. With the messages, she and H were still in their little bubble. It was stupid, but she needed that bit of separation. She was becoming attached to someone she'd never met.

Walking through the halls of a stadium in Canada, Y/n pulled up past conversations with H. It was too embarrassing to admit to anyone out loud, but she felt like she really knew him. He was endearing, had a silly sense of humor, had good taste in music, and was honest. Well, as honest as either of them could be. Outside of the one slip up with H's friend, Y/n believed what he said to her over text. Maybe that made her naive, but their conversations were legit. He felt like a friend, and she knew he felt similarly.

Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

Y/n had no idea what that could mean. She of course knew what she wanted it to mean, but what she wanted rarely ever lined up with reality.

Y/n looked up from her phone to make sure she didn't pass the right door. The one in front of her read, Harry Styles in big bold lettering. She quickly hurried past and continued down the hall to where the dressing room for Five Seconds of Summer was.

Harry Styles was a bit of an enigma. Even though she was on the same tour as him and One Direction, Y/n hardly ever saw him. And when she did, his nose was always in his phone, completely closed off to the world around him. He just had this vibe that said, "don't talk to me," and Y/n received that message loud and clear. The Five Seconds of Summer boys seemed to get on with all the members of One Direction, but Y/n usually made herself scarce whenever they came by the dressing room, for no other reason than too much testosterone in one room.

"You want to come out after the show, Harry?" Y/n heard one of the boys ask. Michael.

"Um...No. I think I'll have to pass tonight, boys. Sorry."

"What? Big date tonight?"

"Something like that."

Y/n felt frozen to the linoleum floor. She knew that voice. She'd spent all night listening to that voice.

"Holy shit."

[theinfinitedivides]

wi papa look a thing there for me. awa.

prefacing this with a PSA that i'm going to try and keep short but basically regardless of anything i say here let me make it known that i do believe he should apologize. whether or not he's still actively saying that word in 2024 it is something he's used in the past even if he isn't performing said play anymore/saying things like that so flippantly. granted if he does apologize there's always going to be a section of fandom that's like 'he only apologized bc he got caught' yes?????????? that's what always happens????????? lbr you're not going to get on IG and announce you killed your ex two decades ago and you'll be turning yourself in when there's an entire true crime community in the depths of the internet who will dig up the cold case + the suspiciously convenient alibi anyway without you lifting a finger. politicians who get called out for blackface in college do not go around telling people they did blackface in college. celebrities who were homophobic on this hellsite in high school back in the early 10s before they realized they were gay are not going to let you know what their handle was. this is how the world works.

that being said i must confess i caught wind of the stirrings of this a bit early bc during the clusterfuck that was the Jam vs Zamasian RPF poll (i did not go in the notes. rancid ass shit) someone had taken a screenshot of a reblog made as a 'gotcha' to Zamasian voters by implying that they were anti-Black for voting for a ship featuring an actor that said the n-word in a play he hasn't performed for several decades since, with a short taped example that the general public was not going to know how to find unless they were on a mission. i poked around, saw a couple hints here and there that implied that the clip actually existed, marked that down for future ref and went about my business. disappointing? sure. run of the mill especially among people his age in the industry from that time period who are perceived to benefit from white privilege? absolutely. the former bird identified app dragging all of this back into the light (including the interview with Chris Rock. which i have not seen though there's no way it was within the last few years for AMC to still hire Eric if they had seen it. correct me if i'm wrong pls) is unexpected but tracks for the fandom on there.

generally i don't believe in cancelling someone for things they said or did more than ten years ago if they are no longer the same person they were back then. i don't believe Jacob or Assad or any one of the staff of color who may have been working behind the scenes would have agreed to continue interacting with Eric if he had the same attitude as he did when he first wrote and performed the play. i don't believe his Black comedian niece would continue to talk about him and share photos with him if he was calling her or the Black side of her family the n-word. i am willing to give the 'Eric Bogosian n-word' reply tweet he reportedly made before deleting it shortly after the brief benefit of the doubt bc it was 1. supposedly under someone else's tweet talking about the play incident and 2. i cannot count how many times i have accidently commented/almost posted something on here or YouTube or Reddit or ao3 bc i was on mobile and once the keyboard's open the app/browser flips the fuck out and puts the search bar and the comment box too close together. now if his ass shows up and shows out and stands ten toes down while he's currently on time-out or doesn't address any of this we're dealing with a different story. if more examples of him acting like this come out i'll drop him faster than you can call the election it will be that serious.

anyway for now i'm choosing to keep an eye on this while acknowledging that us Black folks do have the right to be upset and pissed as fuck. we deal with enough racism/microaggressions in fandom spaces as it is we definitely don't need new ones, and we don't need them from the past career choice of the main cast of a show a lot of us enjoy. amen

[anyca786]

"Realm's Beauty : Daenys Targaryen"

Daemon Targaryen x sister!Targaryen (eventually Daemon Targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen)

Warmings: contains incest/ targcest, poly relationship, age-gap, mature themes and contents, explict language, violence/abuse, blood/gore, death, birth, marriage, and the usual GOT and HOTD warnings

Daenys Targaryen, the youngest sister of King Viserys I and Prince Daemon, was a tempestuous soul who yearned for the open sky and the thrill of adventure.

Daenys' life took a dramatic turn when she witnessed the harrowing childbirth of her niece, Rhaenyra. The pain and suffering endured by her sister-in-law, Aemma, deeply affected her. Daenys made a solemn vow never to marry, fearing the same fate for herself.

With Nyx, her black scaled dragon at her side, she soared into the heavens and disappeared towards the North.

Now, Daenys has returned to King's Landing. The once unruly princess had matured into a woman of striking beauty and strength. Her beauty, enhanced, captivated the hearts of many in the city and court. Common folks called her "Realm's Beauty."

Daemon found himself drawn to her in a way he had never expected. Whether it was lust or a deeper affection, Daenys's return had ignited a spark within him that would forever change the course of their lives.

Only time will tell.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Season 1

Chapter 1: Pilot "IT IS GOOD TO BE HOME"

Chapter 2: "DRAGON'S EMBRACE"

Chapter 3: "YOU'RE A MENACE, DAEMON TARGARYEN"

Chapter 4: "COME WITH ME"

Chapter 5: "WE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS."

Chapter 6: "YOU'VE BOTH MATURED YOURSELVES THESE PAST FEW YEARS."

Chapter 7: "WHAT IS THIS PLACE?"

Chapter 8 "WED HER TO ME"

Chapter 9 "DOES ANYBODY TRULY EVEN KNOW DAEMON TARGARYEN?"

Chapter 10 "I WANT YOU BOTH"

Chapter 11 "TEN YEARS CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING"

Chapter 12 "NOW THAT DAEMON AND I HAVE YOU, WE'LL NEVER LET YOU GO"

Chapter 13 "I WON'T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU OR OUR CHILD"

Chapter 14 "I THINK I'M GOING TO DIE"

Chapter 15 "THERE IS SOMEONE WE WISH TO INTRODUCE YOU TO"

Chapter 16 "SAY IT"

Chapter 17 "VISERYS IS DEAD"

will be continued...

[sabokunsmalia]

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄; monkey d. luffy featuring: monkey d. luffy x straw hat fem!reader content warning: semi-public, cumming in pants, teasing, dirty talk, mdni!! hi it's malia: don't ask how that thought was created but for me it's so inexperienced!luffy coded.

after another glorious victory for the straw hat pirates, the crew gathered in the center of the capital where the folk had prepared a feast. long tables filled with disparate kinds of food and drinks while a small band played slow songs in the corners. it was beautiful, almost romantic with the enlightened laterns and flowers as decorations. for hours, you and your friends witnessed a beautiful festival. people who have never felt freedom in ten years, were suddenly out of the cage. thanks to a certain stretchy boy with a straw hat, who loved to help innocents.

while the crew slowly split as the members followed their own pleasures of the night, you stayed at the table, in the corner with your boyfriend luffy. while sanji followed multiple women and played their dog, and robin left the party to drown in another book, and chopper already went to bed as he was 'too young' for such events in his own words, the remaining ones at the table were the two of you, zoro, nami, franky and brook. a muscular arm draped over your shoulders, your cheek pressed against his naked, toned chest, you smiled to yourself.

the booze of the past hours slowly clouded your mind, allowing the depth of your dirtiest desires to surface without any resistance. one of them being a certain thing, you discussed with luffy way too often. and you got declined way too often because his reputation was important. it was right, he was right. a pirate who wanted to become the king, had to be feared and yet, you couldn't wipe away those reckless ideas. and with the booze in your system, the courage only started to rise further.

legs thrown over his lap, your flat palm placed on his stomach. fingertips slowly started to trace along his muscles, following the deep and hard lines. luffy did not react at first, knowing how much you admired the change of his body since the reunion. but when your hand wandered bit by bit underneath the table, resting just above his crotch, the captain could put one and one together.

leaning down while listening to another of franky's super stories, luffy's wet lips pressed a sweet kiss on the top of your heart. gentle but also with warning words. "don't, we're still in public, we talked about this,"

oh, there was this demanding edge to his soft voice. the syllabeles suddenly sounding much harsher than anything else he said the entire evening. but you did not listen, not tonight. you followed your needs and desires. fingertips caressed over the thin fabric of his shorts, slowly tracing the small bulge his dick made, without being hard. but with your soft hands, it did not take long to harden. your gentle touch, so featherlight it could never be enough for him.

and just minutes later, your flat hand palmed his hard dick through the fabric of his blue shorts, while the captain still tried to remain in the conversation with his friends. you had your cheek pressed against his chest, eyes not visible for the surrounding members of the straw hat crew anymore. almost as if you were asleep against your boyfriend's body. "just talk, baby," you muttered into luffy's skin, trying to conversate with him, without having them others realise what you were doing underneath the wooden surface of the table.

slowly but with enough strength, you massaged luffy's hard dick. stroking along the outlines with your fingernails, almost drooling down on his shorts while watching how eagerly it pressed against the fabric. the pants restrained him but the feeling of your soft hands already pushed him close to a first orgasm. breath quickened, chest rising while the pants escaped luffy's wide smile. he was trying so hard to not make a noise, to not give his friends a glimpse of what was going on right beside them.

"so beautiful, so hard," you mumbled, watching the tip of your pointer finger dance over his hard dick, smiling to yourself while repeating those praises. words, luffy loved too much. words, which made him cum so easily while being in the shared bedroom.

"wanna feel you later," you confessed, pressing your palm hardly against the bulge. your words were doing much more to him, his dick twitching while the waves of ecstasy ripped through his lower stomach. muscles tensing, you could see perfectly how the captain came in his pants because of you.

lips pressed together tightly, the head thrown back and his eyes hidden underneath the brim of his straw hat. a groan slipped out but luffy was quick to pair it with a convincable yawn and your adorable giggle. oh, you would pay later. would definitely clean up his dick from the mess you forced him to make. with your mouth, hands held tightly on your back. oh, you could not wait to be alone with luffy.

and the captain of the straw hats definitely looked forward to having you the entire night, to punish you for putting him into such situation and for the stains in his shorts which were the remains from his cum.

[pennyserenade]

devil in his heart | jackson rippner x reader

summary | after finding out your long-time boyfriend's real occupation, you have to grapple with who he really is. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | 18+, dark, dubcon (bordering on noncon), smut, explicit smut, fingering, degradation, violence word count | 1.9k+ a/n | i honest to god don't know what possessed me, but we are all grown ups here. read with caution! enjoy! love ya! also: i wrote this to devil in his heart by the donays and he's got the power by the exciters, if you're interested in a soundtrack. not beta'd

Truth be told, this is the best game of cat and mouse he's had in years, and he doesn't like that it's ending so soon.

As he gets on your level, crouching near your slumped form, Jackson almost feels a little sorry that you couldn't win. It's not that you weren't witty enough--you were. It's just that, well, he's better. This reminds him of when he was ten and had wanted to go to space only to figure out when he was twelve that he was too scared of the vastness of the galaxy. Some things are just out of reach, too good to be true. He mourns it all the same.

His fingers tenderly push back sweat soaked strands of hair from your face. You look up at him, blurry-eyed, but still so resolute--lips thinned, smoldering with anger. God. He swipes a finger across your lip just to know what it feels like, and likes it better for the fact that you jerk away so aggressively that you knock your head back into the wall.

His tongue clicks. "You should've known, after following me all those weeks, that I'm good at this."

Jackson wraps his fingers tightly around your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You give in, mostly because you have so little energy to protest. His eyes look ominously glacial, lit up only by the moonlight cascading in from the window.

You look down at his lips; the flesh there is still swollen, broken from the harsh swing of your elbow earlier in the night. His tongue spears out to feel at the area. "You're a sloppy assassin, baby. My blood's all over this goddamn place. All over you--" he gestures down to your simple white tee shirt, which has been made dirty with dirt, sweat, blood. You don't care. You feel dizzy and half-scared to pass out, to even think of it, because you've never seen him look quite like this.

You think back to that first time you met him, how he had seemed so polite. He was traveling by train to visit his folks back home for Christmas (he said things like 'folks' in a crisp Midwestern accent, for God's sake). He had said he worked in life insurance policy, which made you laugh and caused him to say, "I know, I know--ironic, Jack Rippner dealing out life insurance." You had thought it was ironic. It is: ironically cruel.

He buys his ties from GAP, his dress shirts from Macy's, likes EggNog and celebrates the fourth of July with as much enthusiasm as any plain, good-hearted American man can.

He’s met your mother; he loves her breadsticks.

You spit on him. It takes the very last of your strength, but it's worth it to see the way his eyes ignite. His hand wipes it off, thumb running through the saliva on his fingers as his lips purse. "You know," he begins, voice eerily calm, "I always thought we'd make good parents. God knows we've come close to it enough times. You just can't help but beg for my cum in you, the slut you are." He chuckles darkly. "I always imagined that you'd be the good cop and I'd be the bad one."

Jackson pushes your head back into the wall, propping you there, almost choking you, but not quite. You let out a deep, wavering breath. He smirks. "But I see that's not the case now, is it? You don't seem to like very much when I play with my food before I eat it, do you?" His fingers press against your lips again, saliva coated. You let him. "Here I thought, all along, 'my baby's a goddamn pacifist. She didn't even like fishing!' It kept me up at night, the idea of you finding out what I did. But look at you!" His thumb tenderly strokes your neck, moving around a mysterious fluid--could be your blood, his blood, spit, water, anything. "I think if I reached between your legs now, you'd be soaked."

You choke out a sound of protest, wiggling beneath his gasp. He tuts, his fingers digging more tightly into your throat. For a brief moment, you can’t breathe. You find enough strength to claw at his hand, to widen your eyes and plead.

“C’mon, you’ll like this. You always do.” He loosens his grip on your neck.

As you gasp for air, Jackson knocks your legs apart. It doesn’t take much effort to get your cunt—you’d foolishly made the mistake of wearing a dress today—and he hums in delight when his fingers reach past your cotton underwear, confirming what he suspected to be true. His lips form into a mocking pout as your eyes begin to well with tears. It's not fear—you’re beyond that. It’s anger. The betrayal of this curdles inside you, eating you alive. Your eyes fill with ire.

“Don’t be that way,” he shakes his head, softening a degree. He holds your chin between his fingers again, the other hand rubbing wide circles over your clit. “I’m not going to kill you. How could I? I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you, truth be told, but it’s not that.”

Your hips jerk involuntarily, causing him to growl. “That’s the spirit, kitten. When you hit me earlier, I thought—after, of course, 'God she’s a bitch!’—that you might be a good asset. I know you’ve got a lot of morals holding you back right now, so I figure I’ll let you do the easy work at first. Let you think you’re doing some good in the world.” He presses down on your clit, his touch more intent, more focused. You squirm, hating the way he knows that you like it like this.

His fingers slip down into your cunt, wetting them. “Fuck, you’re soaking. If this is how you get when we do this, you might just reform me. I’m not opposed. We—“ he reattaches his fingers to your cunt. You whine, arching into his touch.“—could do good work. I freelance, if you couldn’t tell already. Though I’m sure you can. You’re a thorough investigator when you want to be. That’ll be helpful, too.”

Jackson picks up his pace, swallowing as he stares down at your lap. He can’t see anything, his hand hidden beneath the fabric of the dress and your underwear, but it seems to thrill him all the same. You too, admittedly.

“I—I couldn’t,” you retort, biting at your lip. “You—you kill!”

“Don’t be such a prude,” he deadpans. “It’s political assassinations and occasionally, though very rarely, an innocent bystander. And I do my best to make sure those cases are few and far between. I do.” He presses down more intently, watching with delight as you squirm, trying not to cum. “Oh, go on. It’s just you and me here. No one’s gonna know except me, and I won’t tell anyone. I’m good with secrets. You know that now.”

He’s near exultant, talking to you about this. The pitch of his voice is higher, and he’s looking at you like he’s won a prize of the highest degree. You’d spit on him again if he wasn’t making you feel so goddamn good.

“I won’t do it,” you shake your head firmly. Jackson takes the opportunity to slip a finger in your cunt, to press in and show you how much he has always—will always—know you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll bite,” he soothes, entering another. It’s a squeeze, but a welcome one, especially when he begins to thrust them against the spongy surface of your walls. Your toes curl, and you hate him, hate him violently. “If you want me to be rough, you really only have to ask, but since you like this game so much we’ll play it.”

As he fingers you, he begins to palm your clit. The sensation is overwhelming. Tears cascade down your face and he leans forward, licking them from your lips. The warmth of the orgasm rises in you alarmingly quick, his fingers deftly touching the inside of you, his palm lining with your clit each time you rut involuntarily. Your body knows him. It trusts him. He knows it.

The orgasm licks through you like a goddamn flame, igniting everything and leaving it all worse for it. When you cry out, Jackson smirks, so fucking pleased. But he doesn’t stop. He goes on, rubbing down harder, thrusting in quicker, until you’re wiggling beneath him.

“Please!” you say, trying to move his hand away.

He’s resolute. “No can do, honey. You’ve been a naughty girl, indulgent in the worst way. Gluttony is a sin, and I've been good–I’ve never punished you for it before–but you’ve hurt my feelings now.”

He slides in a third finger, his crystal eyes dark in the shadows. You feel impossibly full, and on the brink of another orgasm. You whine out. He knocks your head back into the wall with force. It doesn’t take your breath away, but it stuns you to silence. “That’ll be enough of that. This is for me now, got it? Getting you all wet so my cock will fit in that tight cunt of yours. Want you to hear it, your pussy taking me.”

As if to prove a point, he thrusts in again, and you do hear it—the way your body allows him in. An obscene squelch. You bite your lip, feel more tears fall down your cheeks.

“Jackson—“ you plead. You’re tired, achy, terribly confused. He works you open so well. You can smell the sour sweet smell of his body odor. You love it. You cannot help it. Your body trusted this man for so long. Still does.

You fool, you tell yourself, before your body gives way to his will again—you collapse into him, screaming out a silent whimper as the orgasm makes you convulse.

“That’s it,” he encourages, not stopping. “Be good for me. If you’re good, we’ll make this enterprise into a family business. If you’re bad—well, we’ll just have to make this our life, won’t we? You all weak, me with all the power. I don’t think you’ll like it, but you understand, it’s how it must be done if you don’t obey.”

He sighs, as if it’s putting him out too.

You know he’s serious. What’s worse is you know he’s right: that you won’t like it, that he’ll get his way eventually.

When you give in, he knows immediately, lips quirking up into a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your temple. “I always knew you had it in you a little. You were always such a whore for me. I’m happy it worked out so well for us both. Now–” He pushes your legs further apart, moving in with his own hips. “Let’s play your most favorite game. It’s longer, requires more patience, but I like it just as much as you do.”

The jingle of his belt buckle makes a shot of fear, mixed with arousal, shoot up your spine. You think: God, no.

He laughs darkly. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve been making sure you’ve been taking your birth control. I’m not really ready for that, either. It’s just the idea that thrills you, isn’t it anyway? And that smallest, tiniest chance that it could happen.” He smirks, loosening his belt. His fingers exit you, leaving you empty, feeling scandalized and ruined. Jackson rubs them on the cloth of your dress, uncaring.

“I hate you,” you spit out, venom lacing your words.

He looks thoroughly amused as he releases his weeping cock from his underwear. “No you don’t. You’re just ashamed of yourself. But fear not–” he wipes a tear off your face, “--when we’re done here, you’ll be glad for this. Just remember, baby, that I’m on your side.”

[varpusvaras]

"So, like", Bly starts. He is definitely drunk at this point. So is Fox, to be honest, but he is still judging.

"So like what?" Fox asks.

"So, like, what is it?" Bly asks. "The thing."

"Maybe we should have this talk when your brain is not made of 80 percent of alcohol", Fox says.

"No no, we are having this now", Bly says. "Like, the thing. With the Queen and the Senator. Like, you know, I like Aayla because-"

"He's asking you what it is about them that makes you like them that much", Wolffe explains, promptly interrupting Bly, before he can start rambling about General Secura.

Fox knows he shouldn't say anything.

But then he looks at everybody else around the table. They are all grinning.

Yes, his brothers have been teasing him about his choices. Oh, Fox has gotten fancy while on the Triple-Zero. He does not care for the same things as us common folk. No, Fox likes the finer things now, like all the rich people around him.

Fox knows that his brothers are not really taking Bail and Breha seriously. They all respect them, like they should. Bail is not constantly putting himself in the middle of battles to help them and the people out, nor is Breha constantly pushing more credits and aid and trying to handle diplomatics to get better things for the army, for them all to disrespect them.

But Fox knows that they don't take Bail and Breha seriously. They are still rich people, royalty, nobility, people who have gotten used to nice things and nice things only. People who are nice and aspire to do good, but are still soft and delicate in their eyes.

So Fox opens his mouth.

"They are nice", he starts, because that is the starting point.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know that", Rex says. Fox glares at Cody, who in turn, smacks Rex on the arm.

"They treat me well", Fox continues. "And they are fun to be around."

"I'm starting to think that we have a very different understanding of fun these days", Bly grins. "What do you even do for fun? Sit on fancy couches and talk poetry? Do they kiss your hand as a good-bye when you leave?"

"Sometimes", Fox says. Wolffe gags. Fox glares at Cody again, who, in turn, smacks Wolffe on the back of his head.

"Hey, you all have to admit, it's very romantic", Ponds says. "It's very nice."

"Yeah, if sappy romance is all you want", Bly says.

Fox should really keep his mouth shut.

But no. No, he has been listening to this enough. It's time to shut them all up for good.

"You know that they have been married for well over ten years now?" He asks.

"Yeah?" Bly says.

"Do you know how much sex people have on average in long-term relationships?" Fox asks. "According to several databases, at least once a week. That's sex on average every four days. Now, count in your little alcoholic head, how much that is in over ten years."

Bly squints his eyes. Ponds leans his head on his hand.

"It's a lot", Fox says. "And how does it go, Rex? In your book, experience outranks everything?"

Rex pulls a face for being included all of a sudden. Too bad, he opened his mouth first.

"Yeah, but", he says. "Isn't Senator Organa on Coruscant a lot, and not at home on Alderaan?"

"Yes?" Fox tilts his head.

"So like, the calculation is off, then", Rex tries.

Fox grins.

"It is not", he says. "I'm here, too."

Rex looks disgusted. Wolffe gags again.

Cody smacks Fox. Fox smacks him back.

---

"Is everything alright with your brothers?" Bail asks.

"Yes?" Fox asks back. "Why?"

"I met up with a few of the Masters at the Temple earlier today", Bail says. "Some of your brothers were there, too. They seemed a bit...strange, all of a sudden."

"They are all idiots", Fox says. "Don't mind them."

Bail shakes his head.

"If you say so", he says. "Oh, by the way, Breha is coming to Coruscant, to attend a couple of galas and session for educational aid budgeting. She'll be staying a little over a week."

"Oh, that's nice", Fox smiles. "Sorry, I need to send a quick message."

CC >>>>>>>>

Fox: Hey I have to cancel our next two nights out, Breha's coming over

Cody: Okay, say hi to her

Wolffe: Why next two

Fox: She'll be staying for over a week

Wolffe: And?

Fox: Remember, on average, once a week. gotta get that second week's average as well

Fox has been temporarily banned from CC >>>>>>>>

[aurorabyler]

the significance of heroes by david bowie to stranger things + byler (finn wolfhard interview)

byler nation. i just found an interview clip of finn that i’ve literally been looking for since season 4 dropped. i remembered watching it but i couldn’t find the video afterwards and i also haven’t seen many people talking about it, so here it is:

transcript (finn wolfhard): “this is my life in songs. a song that reminds me of stranger things — heroes by david bowie. there’s a cover in the first season, but i remember when we were first shooting the first season shawn levy (one of our directors and executive producers) cut together a sizzle reel and put it to heroes, and that was kind of the first glimpse we got into the show. and it really just kind of blew me away and also made that song so important as well to me.”

if any of you are familiar with the way heroes is used in stranger things as well as some of the theories surrounding the specific lyrics that are selected and placed over scenes (especially related to byler) this is quite significant. it’s also significant that it was in fact shawn levy who put together the sizzle reel with heroes — he is known in the byler community to kind of be a byler champion, if you will.

he has directed some of the most significant byler scenes in the whole show — finding will’s fake body in the quarry in season one (WHICH HAS HEROES PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND), the rain fight in season 3, the byler scenes in dear billy (including the legendary “i didn’t say it — you didn’t have to” scene) among others.

furthermore, heroes is established as a theme/musical motif that is very explicitly related to byler in season one of the show, as the first time it plays mike literally breaks down at the sight of will’s fake body and bikes all the way home. the specific lyrics that play when he goes to hug karen in that same scene are (quite notoriously):

and the guns, shot above our heads

and we kissed, as though nothing could fall

and the shame, the shame was on the other side

it’s interesting that finn notes the song as being one that specifically reminds him of stranger things and that seems to (based on not only shawn but the fact that heroes has been used TWICE in the show over NEAR PARALLEL byler scenes) to have a very big role in the show.

anyways. what i'm saying is that leading up to season five, a lot of people are kind of expecting that the pattern of using heroes will be completed -- they used the cover in seasons 1 and 3, and it only really makes sense to kind of complete that in season 5 as the song has been used as a throughline for a very specific storyline for what will have been the almost ten years since season 1 came out.

lastly i just want to say that i am not implying finn speaking about a song that has personal meaning to him is somehow solely connected to byler. my main interest in this is the shawn levy bit and just the general significance of the song to the show, which has been spoken about in lots of theories ever since the show came out in 2016.

i'll link here some posts about byler theories related to heroes that might give you some more context to its significance:

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Nine)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,860

Warning: confessions, loss of virginity, smut, lovemaking, fingering, unprotected sex

A/N: so were actually going to have two more parts! Part ten and an Epilougue! 🥹 sorry for the late post this was a long chapter and someone decided to fall asleep in the pool after chugging down margaritas and yeah—it was all me 😬

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Ten Part Eleven

Love?

That simple four-letter word weighed like a ton in your heart and the pit of your stomach. Did Suguru tell you he loved you? Your breath quickened as he stroked your hair gently; his dark eyes bore into yours.

“You—you love me?”

“Yes, god, I love you.”

Every time he said that your stomach fluttered with butterflies of excitement. But his eyes shut tight as he pulled his forehead away from yours, allowing him to look at your entire face. His was still shirtless, pants pulled down to his thighs, and you were naked, but something about being so exposed made this moment that much more intense.

“How long have you loved me?”

Suguru sat up straight, allowing him to give you his full undivided attention. “I knew I liked you the first day we met. But that grew into a crush that turned into a bigger crush in high school; before I knew it, I was utterly in love with you.” He shut his eyes as he smiled warmly. “Which was as easy as breathing.” You rested your hands on his shoulders, flushing at the sweet words.

“But why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You pursed your lips together. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t been scared of your deepening feelings and what that would do to your friendship. “I mean, when you said you couldn’t do, uhm—“ you motioned to the position you were still in, “this, it almost ruined me.” Because you were afraid, your boldness had ruined that nearly two-decade-long friendship.

“But I know now, I have to be honest. I can’t keep living with this secret on my chest.” He gently cupped your cheek in his warm hand, his finger caressing the skin. “You deserve to know the truth.” When you didn’t oppose his words, Suguru took a deep breath. “The day Utahime found your cottage hit me like a train. When you said you could be gone for two years, my stomach fell out of my ass. Because the thought of being away from you for that long was unimaginable.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Who else would ensure I was taking care of myself, bringing me food, dragging me away from my canvas? No one cares for me like you.”

“I did promise your mom I’d look out for you.” You try to joke, but his confession has your voice breaking as you are overwhelmed by his sweet words.

“Yeah, and that’s why my folks love you too.” He brushed against your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But that night, we went to dinner to celebrate you finding the cottage; I didn’t know what to do. You were so excited about going, and I wanted to support you. But thinking about you leaving and falling in love with some European guy made my stomach hurt.”

You cocked an eyebrow and giggled. “Some European guy?”

“Yeah, like a French model or something.” You laugh again, and it’s like music to his ears. “But when Nanami told me you were struggling with the intimate scenes in your book and that going on this retreat might help. I decided that if I could help you with those scenes, maybe I’d finally work up the courage to tell you how I felt, but it became something else. Something deeper, something more profound and intimate. I was something living off a stupid idea when I should’ve just been honest with you. We could just be together. And I almost managed to fuck that up.”

“Suguru—”

“I was an idiot. I should’ve been blunt and honest about how I felt instead of hiding behind the idea that I was helping you. If I’m being honest, doing all this intimate stuff with you made me fall even more in love with you. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I’m beating around the bush. I fucking love you.”

“Suguru—I—”

“You don't have to say it back; I just needed you to know because I can’t just sleep with you. Not when you deserve so much more.”

His confession was raw and honest, making your heart sing. Without thinking, you pulled his hands away from your face; Suguru's eyes widened as if he thought maybe you were angry. But when your lips slammed against his in a heated kiss that had that simmering desire in your lower stomach roaring to life again. His arms wrapped around you, pressing you firmly against his bare chest, turning his head to deepen the kiss. His erection was hardening again, rutting against your lower stomach; before things progressed any further, you broke the kiss, panting heavily.

He had been so honest with you; he deserved to know how you felt. “Suguru—I-I could’ve been honest too— because I felt the same way early into our agreement. I kept telling myself that you were helping me out, being a good friend, when I knew for a fact that there was more to it. When I thought you were leaving for four months, my world seemed to stop.” His hands gently ran up and down your back as you spoke. “I realized I needed to tell you how I felt, but uhm—“ with a nervous chuckle, you flushed, “I got some advice to show you how I felt; that's why I—I jumped you like this.” Suguru scoffed, shaking his head, and exhaled heavily through his nose.

“And I was told to talk to you.” A comfortable silence draws out between you. “God, we're a couple of idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we are.” You let out a sing-song giggle as Suguru chuckles, trailing kisses slowly up your neck. “A couple of idiots in love.”

The sensations of Suguru’s lips slowly moving up your neck stopped at the spot right beneath your earlobe. You could feel how hot his breath was as he slowly inhaled and exhaled against your skin. The burning desire slowly began to spread from your body to all the other parts of you. Your skin was sensitive to his hands running over you, your heart was slamming against your ribs, and you felt yourself getting wetter as Suguru pulled away from your neck to stare into your eyes.

His cock was hard and throbbing inside of his boxers. He didn't remember the last time he was this turned on or if there had ever been a time in his life when he had been so hard. This was different; tension and excitement settled in his stomach. He wanted this, wanted you so fucking bad. Not because he wanted you, wanted to pop your cherry.

He wanted to love you in every way he was able to.

“I—I want you.” The breathless needy whisper nearly had him cumming in his pants. “Sugu, please, I want you to be my first for everything.”

Your first, did you want him to be your first? God, this was happening. It wasn’t a dream this time.

“You’re positive? You want to do this?”

“I’ve never been more sure about it in my life.”

One of Suguru’s hands slowly slid down your back, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. The warm, calloused fingers brushed over your hip before they slid lower until they found your clit. He pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves and slowly circled it just the way you liked it. His fingers rubbing against you sent your body jerking forward with a high-pitched moan.

Your legs were shaking, and your voice seemed to crack as Suguru dipped his finger lower, growling at the wet slick that he brushed against. You were soaking wet. The thought of being buried inside of you when you were this wet had his self-control wavering. Accidentally hurting you was the last thing Suguru ever wanted to do; this was your first time; he wanted it to be perfect, to be as painless as it could be. So instead of shoving his cock deep inside of you, he pushed his middle and ring finger into you.

The way your voice hitches, eyes going wide as he slowly begins pumping his fingers in and out of your tight, wet heat, has your eyes shut tight. Your voice breaks the soft whimpers invading Suguru’s ears as he curls his fingers up, rubbing your g-spot with experienced strokes. A tremor starts through your legs, making its way up to your hips and stomach. You melt like butter with each come-hither stroke and kiss against your neck.

Suguru grunts softly as you begin rolling your hips against his hand, spreading your wet arousal over the palm of his hand as he moves faster and harder, the sound of your moans and whimpers feeding into his speed, making him more eager, please you get you off, he wanted this to be the best first time anyone could ask for. His teeth sunk into your neck, drawing out a sharp gasp from you as his fingers rubbed that spongy spot inside of you. Wet squelches filled the bedroom, and the sounds of him finger fucking you only made you wetter.

“S-Suguru—”

He hummed, lapping his tongue over the bite mark he had left in his wake. “You’re so wet~ does this feel good, princess~?”

“Ye-Yeah fuck, it feels really good—i-I think I'm gonna—”

“Ooh gonna cum for me already~?”

“Mhmm.”

“Was my princess that horny that she’s already going to cum for me? I've barely touched you.” His lips pressed against yours softly as he rubbed your g-spot harder. “You can cum~ I plan on making you cum again~.”

His bold declaration, the expert strokes, and his lips on your neck sucking on it were all you needed to send you over the edge of an orgasm you had never experienced before. It was much more intense before a gush of liquid coated Suguru’s hand. Seeing you squirt, feeling your juices coat, His hand had Suguru’s pupils the size of pinpricks, his fingers gently pulling out of you before glancing down at his wet fingers before slowly trailing up to your pleasure-drunk face.

“Didn't take you for a squirter.” He teased, flipping you both so you were pressed back against the bed.

“G-Gotta k-keep you—haaah—” your eyes rolled back as you spread your legs as wide as you could for Suguru. “on your t-toes.”

Your best friend hummed at your breathless words as he reached down, pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His heartbeat echoed inside of his ears as you kept your eyes wide open for him, exposing your beauty to him. After years of imagining being with you, holding you close, making love to you, all those dreams were about to come true for him.

You watched as Suguru reached into his pants, grabbing his wallet. Your eyes focused on the foil package. He pulled it out, opening it with his teeth. That in itself could have made you cum for a second time without him even touching you. His hands moved with experience sliding the condom over his cock, before staring down at you for a second before blinking.

He leaned back, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. "You're not allergic to latex, are you?"

“No, I’m not.”

“Princess.” Suguru slowly learned to get closer to you. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? You want to do this?” He pressed his forehead on yours, darting between your eyes to your lips. “You know I’d wait for you as long as needed.”

There he went again, being as caring and considerate as possible. “You asking that makes me not doubt a single thing.” Suguru flushed as you placed your hand on his, gently stroking his knuckles. “I want you to be my first; I wholeheartedly do. Because I love you.” Suguru smiled back, nodding. He pulled his hand away from your face, intertwining your fingers.

“I love you too, Princess.” He slots himself between your legs, taking a deep breath. “Let me know if it hurts, okay? I don't want to hurt you."

"I will." She whispered, kissing him softly. "Suguru, I love you so much."

The man you had been friends with for years, whom you’d fallen hopelessly in love with, smiled softly, leaning in and kissing you deeply. "I love you so much.” He held his cock by the base, the thick shaft heavy in his hands. “Ready Princess?" You nodded, wrapping your arms around him, allowing him to lose himself in your intoxicating scent.

"Ready."

“Okay, honey, tell me if it hurts.” Suguru pushed into your tight entrance gently, his width stretching you out more than you imagined it could. "F-Fuck—”

Thanks to Suguru prepping you and ensuring you were as wet as possible, it didn’t hurt like you had feared it would. Instead, you moaned and whimpered, yet whimpered at the same time. "F-Fuck, O-Oh god." You said, gazing into his eyes as he watched you closely, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain that washed over your features.

When your eyebrows knitted together, Suguru slowly paused. "D-Do you need me to stop for a second, Princess?"

"Y-Yeah." You confessed as you gently gripped onto his arms. "Y-You're just really big."

“Oh, yeah—” An almost sudden swarm of confidence swelled in his chest as Suguru nodded, stilling above you as he panted. "N-Need me to pull out?"

"N-No." You took a calming breath. "I just needed a second to adjust—you can keep going, Sugu. It's not so much that it hurts—I feel full."

Suguru nodded again, pressing gently kisses against your cheeks as he slowly began pushing further inside you again. "Mm, I see; as long as you're not in pain, that’s all that matters to me~” A whine resonates in your chest, causing your walls to squeeze Suguru gently. Making your tight, wet heat even tighter. “Fuck you're so tight, Princess—”

“A-And your cock, is thick,” You gasped, your eyes rolling back as you released your arms around his neck, one hand grabbing his own while the other grabbed at the bedding. "But it feels so good, I-I want m-more please.”

Suguru took a second to admire you as a whole truly. How you gently squeezed his fingers, how your other arm wrapped around your head, fingers gripping the pillow behind your head. The way your face was contorting with the pleasure of slowly getting fucked as a growl rose in the back of his throat while he looked down at you. Never in his life had Suguru ever seen someone as beautiful as you.

God, he loved you. He loved you so much that it hurt. He never wanted to do something like this with anyone else. Not when you looked like a literal goddess underneath him. You were taking him so well; it had his cock twitching as he thought of how pretty you’d be in all sorts of different positions.

"Fucking Christ, you look so pretty and perfect—" He started to slide into you again, his mouth open as he tried to breathe regularly. “Like you were fucking made for me, baby, god. I love you, fuck.”

"Y-You're so handsome." You cried softly as he slid further into your tight walls. His eyes narrowed in pure concentration as you shuddered and squirmed. The way his dark, pierced brow twitched as dark strands of his hair fell from his bun to hang in his face would make anyone’s heart palpitate. Geto Suguru wasn’t with just anyone; he was with the girl he loved: you. "I love you~ I—I need all of you Sugu~"

Hearing you say how handsome he was and how you needed all of him, your best friend bit his bottom lip as he shuddered. His head rested on your shoulder as he breathed heavily against your flushed skin. "F-Fuck, if you keep talking like that, I might not even get the chance to do that, Princess." He pressed into you until your hips met, making him moan softly as he was fully buried inside of you. You were his whole world, the only woman he had ever truly loved.

"R-Right, sorry you just—nngh!” He slowly rolled his hips into you, causing you to dig your nails into his back. “O-Oh, god." You said, looking down at your conjoined bodies. "Fuck that feels good." Your walls twitched eagerly around him. "Fuck~"

“Oh, Princess,” Suguru chuckled before he panted against your skin. “You haven’t felt anything yet.” Hot, open, mouthed kisses trailed along your shoulder and up your neck. “Is it okay if I move?” Suguru’s heavy breathing and gentle tone of voice relaxed every tight muscle in your body.

You panted heavily along with him. "Y-Yes, god, yes, please.” You said, kissing his shoulder gently as he pulled back to look at you.

Suguru caught your lips with him in a desperate kiss. As his tongue slowly slid into your mouth, he started to pull out of you before rolling his hips and thrusting back in. You let out a wanton whine into each hungry kiss, your legs shaking as you slowly wrapped them around his waist. God, you loved him; you loved him so damn much. His personality, his looks, his heart. But the way he was gently fucking into you, making love with you, made you fall even harder if that was even possible.

Suguru started to sweat, his face a dusty rose color from the effort he put in to hold back to avoid hurting you. But each time he slid in, and you tightened around him, or your breath caught, or you’d unknowingly rock back against him, it drove him crazy. His kisses became less gentle, harder, desperate against your lips, "D-Does this feel okay? Do you wanna keep this pace, or—“ his cheeks flushed, “W-Would it be okay—if I went a little harder?"

You stroked his cheek and nodded, licking at your swollen and bitten lips. "Y-Yeah, you can go harder a-and maybe—uhm—“

“Uhm, what? What do you need, Princess?”

“Could you go a little faster?”

Suguru swears he feels his balls clench at your request. He wants to take care of you, to be gentle and caring. He wanted your first time to be as unique as you were to him. But he was losing control. You felt so fucking good wrapped around him, your tight twitches trying to milk him for everything he had. Pulling him in deeper, squeezing the absolute hell out of him. That fragile grip he held on to, holding himself back, snapped like a twig in the breeze. His hips slowly dragged out and slammed back into you, picking up a more speedy rhythm. "F-Fuck—Princess—!!"

The increase in speed, Suguru’s deep primal moans in your ear, and the feeling of his body on you had your head reeled. You squeezed your legs around him tighter and harder, trying to rock against him to meet his pace. But your orgasm was building, causing every nerve in your body to catch on fire as you trashed your head back and forth, crying out in pleasure as his cock hit your g-spot with each rolling thrust. His feet dug into the sheets, pushing them down the mattress as he attempted to bury himself deeper inside of you while he pinned your hand to the bed, giving it a hard squeeze as he fucked into you with all of his strength.

The bed creaked under your combined weight, the headboard slamming against the wall as Suguru fucked into you. Drawing sounds you had never made before. Desperate cries., pleased groans, and sharp whines, god, this felt so good. You had never felt so good before. You found yourself in a hazy hue of pleasure as your orgasm began building inside of you, more intense than anything you had felt before.

“Fuck! Suguru!” You screamed out his name, your free hand abandoning the pillow and his hand digging your nails into his back. “O-Oh, my god!" Your moans got louder and louder with each manic thrust Suguru gave you. "I-I'm so close." You reached down with your right hand, rubbing your swollen hard clit.

“No.” Suguru grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from your clit, gently placing it back on his shoulder. “I got you.” His hand rubbed those circles you were craving over your sensitive bud.

“S-Suguru—haaah nnngh fuck! Fuck me!”

“Fuck you feel so fucking good—Princess, fuck, you're so tight, be a good girl and cum on me, cum on my cock—!!"

Your back arched off the mattress as you came. For the second time in your life, you squirted, only this time, it was all over his cock. This, by far, was the strongest orgasm you had ever had, and it ripped through your entire soul. Your walls clenched and hugged around Suguru, making him throb in return. Watching you was all it took to have him moaning, groaning, and whimpering as he came into the condom.

"Princess!!"

A string of your name left his mouth as he continued pushing inside of you. Fucking the tip of his cock firmly against your cervix as both of you kissed each other urgently. Nails digging into skin, fingers rubbing sensitive spots faster as your bodies rutted against each other.

After what seemed like an eternity of pleasurable waves, you whined as you rode out the last trembling waves of your orgasm. "Nnngh." You relaxed against the mattress as your nails stopped digging into Suguru’s back, opting to rub up and down his toned muscles gently.

Suguru hummed softly, slowly pulling back to stare down at you for a moment. Pushing stray strands of your hair out of your face. "Feeling okay?" He whispered as he slowly pulled out of you, taking care of the condom and tossing it in the trash.

"I feel," you looked, meeting Suguru’s watchful eyes. “Great, it didn’t hurt at all.”

There was a certain sense of pride in your words that had Suguru pulling you into his arms to snuggle you to his chest. He was so fucking happy; he just lay there breathing long, deep breaths as he brushed his fingers through your hair. "Yeah? Good, I'm glad it didn’t hurt. All I want is for you to feel nothing but pleasure. Are you sure you’re okay?" You buried your face into his chest, draping your arm over his chest, before turning to look at the palm of your hand.

“I guess I just thought I would feel different.”

“Different, how?”

"I don't know, to change inside and out." You whispered, glancing up towards his face. "Like I would finally be a woman or something.”

Suguru grinned, pressing his lips against yours with a gentle kiss. “Yeah? Are you disappointed that you don’t feel different?” He watched as you gently propped your chin on his chest, your cheeks flushed as you shyly smiled.

“No, because something even better happened than changing inside and out.”

“Oh yeah, and what is that?”

“I got to fall deeper in love with you.” You felt Suguru’s breath hitch as his eyes widened, focusing on your pretty face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Suguru kissed you harder, pulling you tighter against his body before he broke the kiss. “Be mine, please.”

You flushed as he gently stroked your cheek with his hand. “Yours?” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“My girlfriend, please, Princess; I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone but you, Suguru. Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Your boyfriend could have jumped over the moon. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you, thank you.” More kisses were planted over your cheeks before finally meeting your lips. “Do me a favor and just stay here for a second. I'm going to get you some water and a warm rag.”

Suguru did exactly as he promised, putting on a movie in the background as he gently wiped you clean with a warm rag. He insisted you drink plenty of water, filling up your bottle twice before he crawled back in bed with you. As you lay in bed, Siguru gently massaged your shoulders and thighs, easing the burning ache that was starting to settle in them. He was so gentle with you, making you feel as loved if not more, the hours after you had sex, proving to be the perfect boyfriend.

Your relationship with the new title, boyfriend, and girlfriend didn't change much. Aside from the sex, the quiet ‘I love you’ whispered in passing, and the subtle displays of PDA in public, nothing changed. Instead, your friendship seemed to grow stronger. Full of more laughter and love, something both of you had longed before for so long.

Two weeks passed, and you both had been in Okinawa for a month before you knew it. Your days were spent transcribing, working on rewrites, and talking to Nanami and Utahime over the phone while you sat in the aquarium with Suguru as he worked. It was a month full of changes, healing, and love. Coming to Okinawa with you was the best decision Suguru ever made.

The pain of what happened to Riko was still there and would always linger, but with each passing day, Suguru felt his heart and soul heal a little more. That was all thanks to you. With due time, the throbbing stabbing pain would hurt more like a pinch to the skin. As long as you stood by his side, Suguru knew he would get through it.

He put his whole heart into the mural he painted, going above and beyond what he had initially done on canvas. He put so much detail into Riko, the fish, and his friends, whom he hadn’t seen for a month. But his favorite part of the painting was the subtle change he had made to you both. He had painted you holding hands, a simple fix that made his heart swell each time he saw it. A change that both of you loved.

While Suguru’s painting looked terrific, your writing improved tremendously! Nanami had nothing but good things to say about your intimate scenes and how your characters had grown with you. He was sure the next book you worked on would top the first one, leaving you feeling as good as your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

God, you couldn’t get over that your best friend for years had become your boyfriend! Every time you would steal him while he would move his paintbrush against the wall, you’d giggle, hiding your face in your hands, your boyfriend painted. Being with him in Okinawa was the best choice you made, even though you had to make a sacrifice for it. If you were allowed to redo this all over again, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing about it.

After a long, hard day of panting and cleaning up details, Suguru stepped down from the ladder and grinned at the scene with Riko. All the base colors were done on this wall; he just had to add the rest to the other half, and then he could start adding details, followed by shading and highlights. As he admired his work, Suguru felt your arms snake around him as you smothered your face into his back.

“It looks great, baby,” your whisper was almost smothered by how deep your face was in his back. “Good work today.”

“Mmm, thanks, Princess. Only three months to go, but if I keep up the pace, I might get done sooner than that.”

“Well, no matter how long it takes, I’ll be beside you.”

You pulled away only to receive a kiss to the temple. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You were yourself.” You answered without hesitation, smiling wide as Suguru ruffled the top of your head.

“You flatter me; I love you—” Before Suguru could kiss you, he stepped forward, knocking over a paint can. “Shit!” Suguru quickly grabbed some towels he kept around wiping it up. “Baby, could you g—?”

“On it!”

You were already running out of the sealed-off area, rushing to the bathroom to grab some damp and dry paper towels. Suguru watched you leave, grinning as he quickly cleaned up as much paint as he could. While he did his best not to smear the teal paint more, your phone on the table you worked at started buzzing.

Suguru groaned, abandoning his messy cleanup and wiping his hands on his shirt before looking to see Utahime’s name on your screen; he knew you had been waiting for her call to let you know if she got your next chapter approved, so he answered the phone. Holding it between his ear and shoulder, he hurried back to his mess.

“Hey Utahime, my girlfriend stepped away, what’s up?”

He chuckled at the sigh that came through the phone receiver. “Could you refer to each other by your first names like normal people? Would that be too much to ask?” Suguru tossed a few dirty towels in the bucket next to him, full of empty paint tubes.

“Yes, that is asking for way too much.”

“Whatever!” Utahime barked before huffing out in annoyance. “Look, can you tell my client that I need her to email me the letter of denial for the cottage? She was supposed to send it yesterday.”

Before the beautiful memories of last night that involved lots of shower sex could cloud Suguru’s mind, he repeated Utahime’s words to himself. “Letter of denial? Why? I thought she was waiting to see if she even got accepted or could stay for a few months rather than two years.”

“Yeah, well, the owners only do a two-year lease. They had been holding off on rebooking the cottage for your girlfriend since she had shown interest in it, and they were repairing the roof.” Papers rustled in the background. “But now that the roof is fixed, she only has until the end of the month to sign all the papers for her stay.” The end of the month was tomorrow. “But since she decided to go to Okinawa, she must send in the denial letter. That way, they can lease it to this other couple that is interested.”

Suguru’s mouth felt dry as he sat back on his knees. “Wait, what?” Sensing the shock in his voice, Utahime blinked.

“She declined the offer and went to Okinawa with you.”

So many thoughts flowed in Suguru’s mind as he put the puzzle pieces together. That’s why you were so upset on that first day here, distant and off. You had given up on one of your dreams to help him. It was a complete and utterly unselfish thing for you to do for him.

Suguru loved you so incredibly much that he knew what to do.

“Geto, are you there?”

“Uh yeah! Sorry, hey, about that denial letter, she actually—.”

Ten minutes later, you returned with a bucket and fresh towels. You were praying the pain hadn’t settled into the floor yet; you hadn’t anticipated it would take you this long to get the materials your boyfriend needed to clean up. But the custodian you had run into was nice enough to help you retrieve some towels and cleaning products you could use.

“Sorry it took so long, babe! I told one of the staff members what happened, and they just got me some towels!

You watched as Suguru hung up your phone, placing it back on your table. “Oh, no worries; I got a lot of it up, so cleaning the rest won’t be that big of a deal.” Suguru watched as you dropped to your knees and started wiping up the remaining paint streaks, taking your happy, smiling face in and saving it to his memory because he’d need to remember you like this.

“Say after this, let me take you shopping for some clothes. Maybe a new laptop and stuff.”

“Huh? But why? My laptop is doing okay.”

“Because I want to spoil my girlfriend for a bit.”

Without hesitation or arguments, you let your boyfriend take you to the store and get you some new clothes, more suitcases, and snacks. You thought he wanted to spend a weekend with you, like a movie marathon, on the beach, where you both lazily stared off into the horizon. While you fantasized about the weekend to come in the warm, sunny Okinawa, Suguru’s stomach was twisted in knots.

The whole helping-you with your book agreement started because he didn’t want to lose you. How could he not be with you for two years? When he hadn’t even told you how he felt. But now that you were his girlfriend seeing how devastated you were over the prospect of losing the cottage that inspired you and knowing that you had sacrificed to help him made him realize how selfish he had been. Suguru didn’t want to be the one holding you back. He didn’t want you giving up on your dreams because you were more concerned about him and his happiness. You deserved to see the place that had inspired your book series in person. He couldn’t deny you that right.

So, as you both headed out of the aquarium, bags in hand while your fingers were intertwined, Suguru took a second to look at your face; your eyes wandered over the aquarium tanks, admiring fishes and whales like you every night when leaving. Your happy smile, the way you occasionally steal glances at him, and how you held his hand as tight as you could as you walked out to head back home. Suguru needed to savor every second of this evening with you.

In the morning, Suguru was going to watch you leave for Europe.

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