#i say last chapter because 21 is an epilogue

[sunnimint]

I AM PROUD TO ANNOUNCE

The last chapter of Halves of the Same Coin

[chocochipsushi]

𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 5.3K

🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad

🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff

🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:

1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.

2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.

3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??

Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.

Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face. 

He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”

Oh. 

I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.

I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it. 

I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”

I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name. 

By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear. 

“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”

I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting. 

“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car. 

He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine. 

“Stay for a bit, Toji?” 

He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes. 

When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news. 

Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side. 

“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit. 

Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”

I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”

Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay. 

“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.” 

Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout. 

“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.

I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear. 

“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”

I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing. 

“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”

I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”

The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.” 

“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him. 

He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”

Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up. 

He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”

And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips. 

I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips. 

His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”

I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front. 

His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit. 

Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips. 

Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper. 

“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.” 

Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking. 

Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles. 

“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations. 

Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”

By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me. 

Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep. 

Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would. 

“Oh, you’re with her.” 

I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.

“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.

My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning. 

“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful. 

Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”

As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat. 

“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”

“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”

Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.” 

I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”

Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”

“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?” 

I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now. 

“You? You want to take care of my daughter?” 

“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive. 

The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”

Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”

“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”

Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”

“Good ni—”

“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”

It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.” 

“Shut up, dickhead.”

My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips. 

Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him. 

I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. 

Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him. 

Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out. 

Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy. 

As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?” 

It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”

As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”

Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?” 

My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs. 

I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily. 

Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat. 

“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me. 

Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him. 

He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”

I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet  pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine. 

Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips. 

It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress. 

He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me. 

“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up. 

My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”

I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji. 

He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over. 

I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”

At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father. 

“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”

My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”

“Of course you do,” my father quips. 

Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father. 

“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”

My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”

But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?” 

My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji. 

“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”

“I mean as a man.” 

The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words. 

Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked. 

“Like I want to commit my life to her.” 

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

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© chocochipsushi 2023 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 21 - The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)

11.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Despite Din's attempts to be evasive, you learn the truth about your break-up, and make some decisions about what you are and are not willing to accept going forward.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Angst, pining, longing. Nicknames as usual (pretty bird, baby). Some smuttiness but won't spoil.

A/N: Well, we're here: the penultimate chapter (if you don't count the epilogue) - sorry for the word count! 😱 Thank you to everyone who's read up to here - I can't tell you how much it means to me! I know some of you have some strong feelings about Din's actions/dumbdumbness and that's okay!! If you feel like regardless of his intentions, he shouldn't be forgiven/can't be redeemed, I invite you to read up until the paragraph that ends with the blue heart dividers 💙💙💙. I hope that where it ends provides a satisfying conclusion for the series for you and thank you, thank you, thank you again!

All dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

You don’t know how you get through dinner; you must have gone on some kind of small talk auto-pilot because if Mark knew just how much your mind was preoccupied by another man while he was being nothing but genuine and engaging, he probably would have thrown a glass of wine in your face.

Outside of the restaurant, Mark gives you a shy look and asks if you want to get ice cream for second dessert.  Oh man, he really is good guy.

“Oh Mark, I really cannot believe I’m turning down ice cream, but I have something to confess to you,” you look apologetic and hope he’ll let you say what you think he deserves to hear.

“Honestly, Mark – you’re a dream date.  You’re smart and funny and Jen was so right, you’re a fucking catch.  I can’t tell you how guilty I’ve been feeling because I don’t think I’ve been reciprocating the energy and effort that you deserve.  I don’t know if Jen told you, but I got out of a relationship a while ago and I thought I was ready to date again – but being with you tonight… I realize I’m completely out of my element.  I don’t have any business going out with a great guy like you – not right now anyways.  I’m so sorry.”

Mark looks surprised, but his tone is understanding, “Oh!  Wow.  Jen did say something about that – I’m sorry about your last relationship.  It sounds like it really did a number on you.  If it makes you feel better – I had a great time.  I didn’t in anyway feel like I was carrying the date or anything.  And if tonight was you not feeling like you’re up to dating again, then I can’t quite imagine what it would be like to date you when it’s something you’re ready to put your all into.  Thanks for being honest.  When you feel like you’re ready to give dating another shot – think of me?”

It’s a generous and gentlemanly response; you really couldn’t ask for anything more.  The two of you part ways with a light hug outside the restaurant; Mark offers to call you a cab, but you let him know you’ll be fine, and wave appreciatively as he drives away in the car the valet brings him. 

Sighing a heavy sigh, you’re just thinking it might be best if you send Jen a message to let her know how the date went before Mark does when you hear a crash coming from the alleyway next to the restaurant.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you walk over to the side of the building and peek around the corner; there in the alley is the occupier of all your current thoughts, Din, kicking garbage cans in frustration.  When you see him punch the brick wall of the building and shake out his fist, your legs carry you to him as if on instinct – unable to see Din hurt without the urge rising to comfort and soothe him.

Din has both of his palms up against the wall when you close in on him, leaning his weight against his hands with his eyes closed, breathing heavy.

“Din?  Are you okay?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looks up, surprised at your appearance – eyes stormy, the rich browns of his irises full of emotion, “I’m okay, pretty bird.”

Pretty bird.  Your heart swells at the familiar term of endearment that you thought you’d never hear again.  It’s like music to your ears.

“This doesn’t look okay,” you gently pull the hand that you saw him shake in pain away from the wall, turning it over and cradling it in your hands - gasping a little when you see his knuckles scraped and bleeding.  Din watches your pretty face cloud with concern as you take a handkerchief from your purse and delicately wrap it around his wounded hand; tying it snugly against his palm before turning his hand over and bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against the makeshift bandage.

“Thank you, baby.”

You’re looking at him with such a sweet expression that Din’s heart starts to ache again; he has to remind himself that your concern isn’t really for him particularly – it’s just your kind nature, “Where’s your date?  Did he go and get the car or something?”

You shrug good naturedly, “I sent him home.  Would you mind putting me in a cab, Din?”

“Of course.” As Din walks with you back towards the street, his injured hand rests protectively on your lower back and the gesture causes a chill to run up your spine.

It’s not in uncomfortable silence that the two of you wait on the curb, but Din is afraid that if he doesn’t engage you in some type of conversation, you and this moment will disappear before his mind registers it as being real, “Why did you send your date home?  Did he try something?” His eyes darken.

You shake your head lightly; Din’s protective nature is exactly as you remember - you’ve missed it, “No, nothing like that.  He was fine, really.”  You can’t deny it any longer, you’ve missed him, “He just wasn’t… you.”  With this admission you look up at Din and search his eyes – does he miss you too?

“Oh, pretty bird,” Din manages to breathe out before he descends on your mouth, kissing you fully and so full of longing and desperation he’s afraid he might actually break you.  Your arms fly up of their own accord and wrap around Din’s neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer; your fingers thread and tug at the loose curls at the nape of his neck and you long to run your hands through his hair again - you refrain, not wanting to mess up his hairstyle.  He’s yours and you’re his again in this kiss – every brush of your lips, every step in the dance of your tongues a testament to how much you’ve missed each other.

You’re melting.  Melting into Din’s strong arms and the safety of his hold, reveling in the warmth of his affections.  It’s like you’ve never left, his body molds to yours, fitting so right – pressed flushed against Din, you dare anything to try and get between the two of you right now.

Parting reluctantly when you hear the slow crunch of tires coming to a stop next to you, Din kisses your forehead gently before seeing you into the backseat of the cab.  When you see him open the passenger side door and speak to the driver, you recall with a surge of affection that cab ride after Katie’s birthday when you and Din reconnected after your brief separation.  Once again, Din tells the driver your address and emphasizes the importance of getting you home safely, punctuating his point with an overly generous tip.  Your heart swells at the memory – the déjà vu driving home how everything about your relationship had been real.

When Din comes back to see you in the backseat, your eyes are bright and full of feeling – he’s here, the sweet man who always takes care of everyone, who only every wanted to take care of you; he’s right here in front of you again.  Bringing your hand up to Din’s cheek, your heart soars when he leans into your palm with a smile; the soft feel and weight of his face familiar and comforting.

“Din, I know you didn’t sleep with Vanessa,” you say simply with no room for argument – a simple fact.  Now that you’ve said it out loud, it seems so fucking obvious.  How could you have ever believed that this man could have been capable of such a betrayal?

Simplicity and truth are all that Din can afford as well, “Of course not.  How could I ever want anyone else when I had you?  The perfect woman.  You’re the love of my life, pretty bird.  Would never cheat on you.”

The sincerity of his words brings tears to your eyes, “Then why, Din?  Why would you want me to think that you had?”

You look so confused and sad; for the billionth time, Din chastises his past self for his dumb decisions, “Needed you to hate me, pretty bird.  Needed you to stay away from me.  It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Though this answer is vague, your response is relayed with certainty; hands cupping Din’s face, “I’m safest with you, Din.”

The kiss that Din presses to your lips at this declaration is achingly desperate, as if he’s trying to brush away all his past mistakes and wipe clean the hurt he’s caused.  He loves you.  You can feel it in every stroke of his tongue over yours, and in the way his teeth nip and nibble at your lower lip.

You’ve missed his mouth, his touch, and everything Din – and judging by the way his hands cradle your face and the deep emotions swirling in the richness of brown eyes, Din’s missed you just as much.  The two of you hold each other, foreheads pressed together for closeness, breathing in the other’s air as you soak in this togetherness that neither of you ever thought you’d experience again.

Finally, remembering what that last cab ride led to, you whisper, “Din, will you come over tonight?”

There’s a pause as Din’s brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut.  This moment of tenderness with you, one where you don’t hate him, has been more than he deserves.  But it’s a fantasy, a mirage – the reports of escalating violence he listened to during tonight’s meeting still fresh in his mind, Din shakes his head in frustration.  Based on what had been disclosed in the meeting, he can’t help but think that it’s working – everything he’s done to remove the target on your back is working; he can’t throw away your safety just so he can have this feeling again.  That would be too risky.  Selfish.

“Pretty bird, I can’t do that.  I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand, Din,” your voice breaks at his latest rejection and the sound tears Din in two.

He lifts your chin with his fingers so that you’ll look at him though the tears that are already starting to form in your beautiful eyes, “Baby, please understand.  We can’t.  We can’t be together – you deserve better than this, than me.  Being with me puts you in unnecessary danger.  My deepest fear is that you get hurt and I can’t… I won’t let that happen.”

“You’re hurting me right now, Din,” your voice small, sad.

Din knows he is, but he has to stay strong and resolved for your sake, even if this short respite from the dull ache of his everyday existence has been a heaven beyond his imagination, “I’m sorry, pretty bird.  I really am.  I love you, I love you.  But you deserve better.”

You say nothing but the few tears that roll down your cheeks speak volumes.  With great difficulty, Din says a wordless goodbye with kisses to your hair, then both of your hands before letting them and you go.  He knocks on the top of the cab to let the driver know he can leave; as the taxi drives away, he sees your hurt face looking back at him and it nearly brings him to his knees. 

Pressing the heels of his palm to his eyes, Din lets out a loud growl of frustration.  Taking several deep breaths before going back in to rejoin the Family meeting, he repeats to himself a mantra that he has to believe – This is the right thing.  The most important thing is that she’s safe.  Staying away from her keeps her safe.

---

Din’s resolve lasts exactly two days.

---

It takes you only the duration of the cab ride home to get over the sting of Din’s rejection.  Yes, the emotional whiplash of having him tell you that he loves you only for him say that it doesn’t change anything between the two of you hurt, but by the time you’ve taken Al out and finished getting ready for bed, your hurt feelings have been replaced by fresh purpose and determination. 

You finally have some answers.  Somehow Din has convinced himself that being apart from him is for your benefit and he’s willing to sacrifice his own happiness for it.  The problem for you is that he’s also willing to sacrifice yours. 

There’s a part of you that is livid about this, but you’re keeping this particular emotion at bay for the present moment with your newfound conviction to get to the bottom of what’s going on; you’ll get the answers you seek before you decide how you’re going to feel about it all.

You spend most of the weekend turning over the events of the last five months in your head, looking at them with a new perspective after the revelations from the past four days; mentally preparing a list of things that Din owes you explanations for and talking yourself in and out of how you’ll demand them of him. 

By some twist of fate, your regular Sunday brunch has been cancelled for the first time in forever, with several of your friends unable to make it – you can’t decide if this is in your favour or not.

On one hand, you could really use their opinions and a sounding board for your rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions; on the other hand, you suspect that Din is currently not your friends’ favourite person and you could probably do without the barrage of insults that would inevitably be thrown about as a reaction to his and Vanessa’s confessions from this past week.  Not that Din didn’t deserve them, but rather they wouldn’t help you work out what you need to do next.

By Sunday afternoon you’re sure of a few things:

Din loves you.

He has always loved you and he never stopped.

You love him, too.

He truly believed that being with him put you in danger.

What you didn’t know:

How could it be that he loved you so deeply but could so readily leave you?  Not just initially five months ago, but again, not two days earlier?

What gave him the right to decide what was best for you? 

Did he really think it acceptable to keep you in the dark about things that he clearly believed impacted your life so significantly?

The details of what prompted Din to act the way he did don’t interest you as much as why it led him to behave so unsympathetically for the past five months.  The more you think about it, the harder it is for you sit still and wait out the indetermined amount of time needed before you get your answers.

On Sunday night, you make the decision to head down to Mando’s yourself after work one day this week.  Feeling confident in your decided course of action, you’re as satisfied as you can be with the situation when you hear a knock on your door.

---

This is too easy.

Din mutters to himself as he walks through the parking garage beneath your apartment building undetected.  It was entirely too easy for him to gain entry into the garage and avoid the security cameras on his way to the internal stairwell.  He makes a mental note to talk to Paz about this gap in security as he’s taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor. 

He had tried to stay away, he really had.  But just as Din had always known, without the deterrent of you hating him and the surety that you would push him away, he had only his own self control to keep him from seeking you out, and that had crumbled under your loving touch outside the restaurant on Friday.

It had been too long since Din had gone without the feel of your soft lips pressed to his or basked in the warmth of your soft gaze and he had positively melted from both when he saw you after your date.  Like an addict in recovery, the high from his relapse was too intense to ignore; he simply could not be kept from you any longer.

He barely recalls what happened after going back into the restaurant on Friday and finishing the Family meeting.  Or how he got through Saturday at the gym, trying to slog through this month’s invoicing and attempting (unsuccessfully) to concentrate on Jimmy’s training.  Don’t even ask him what he did today.  All he knows is that after nightfall, his body drove his truck over to your neighbourhood and his feet carried him straight to your door.

Unsure of what type of reception he’ll receive if you open the door, Din doesn’t even know what he expects, only what he wants: you.

Your door opens with you already ready for bed, blinking at him with an unreadable expression.  Din thinks he should speak first and lets Al buy him some time when he noses out, nuzzling his snoot into Din’s large hands.  After giving your happy pup a few head rubs to show him how much he’s been missed, Din straightens up to look at you again; he opens his mouth to say something, though he doesn’t know what - and he never finds out because you kiss him.

You hadn’t expected to see Din before your planned confrontation, and you certainly didn’t think you’d see him at your door looking so soft and vulnerable.  After he had dispensed some love to Al, the expression in Din’s eyes when he raised himself back up to his impressive height was that of a much smaller man.  One who was unsure, ashamed.

To see Din like this takes all the wind out of the proverbial sails you had hoisted high over the last two days, the ones you had readied in anticipation of the fight you were bringing to his doorstep this week.  And just like before, when faced with seeing Din in distress, your mind, heart and body ache to soothe and calm him - so you do what comes naturally and press your lips to his.

Din’s lips never leave yours.  Not when you walk him inside your apartment and close the door, and not when he familiarly navigates the layout of your living room to sit on the couch and pull you down onto his lap.  He won’t stop brushing his desperate mouth against your perfectly plush pout, the one he dreams about regularly, even as he murmurs the only two phrases he needs to know you understand:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

You match Din kiss for kiss, “I know.  I know, Din” as you undress first yourself, then the man whose touch you’ve been yearning for for nearly half a year and whose weight you long to be under again.  Your body cries out, remembering the feel of the corded muscles of his strong arms and the comfort of his hard chest; your hands molds to Din’s body as they roam and explore, afraid if you release him he’ll be ripped away from you again.  On Din’s part, even as his mouth becomes more insistent, his touch on your body remains gentle, reverent – where you’re urgent and possessive, he is worshipful.  And still, he recites:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

With Din owning your mouth, your moans of I know, I know, I know are swallowed and vibrate down into his chest - setting his heart on fire and quickening his pulse even as he kisses deeper and steals all your air.

Feeling him lick into your mouth, you whimper ‘Din, please’ and the sound of his name once again on your lips makes Din’s dick jump.  He grabs you tight around the waist, holding you to him to continue fully exploring the open, moaning cavern of your mouth, conveying his devotion with each caress and massage of his tongue.  How could he have ever let you go?  You show Din that you don’t want him to do so ever again by meeting his every touch, every kiss, every guttural needy noise with a hungrier one of your own.

It’s been too long and your hearts and bodies have missed each other too much; Din is already hard and throbbing against where you’re wet and wanting.  Everything is hurried, messy, and inelegant.  You need each other and that’s all there is to it.

Overcome with your own greediness, you murmur, “Need you inside, baby.”

As Din’s entire body melts into a puddle at your words, every muscle in his broad frame relaxes and all his power and control evaporate in the face of his one and only fantasy coming to life; only snapped out of his euphoric state by the sensation of you smearing his leaking precum over his length with your soft hands - Din thinks he might come from this alone.  He’s craved your touch every moment since that fateful night outside his apartment, but he holds back for the heaven he knows is to come when you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down.

It’s really has been too long – Din’s too big and you’re too tight and there hasn’t been enough prep; it hurts.  But somehow it’s welcomed - both of you needing it to hurt, wanting it to hurt, so you know it’s real.

“Nggghhhh – fuck, Din, so big,” you whine as he stretches you out - he’s bigger than you remember.  He feels better than you remember.

“I know, pretty bird.  But it’ll fit,” Din hums, “because you’re made for me.”

His sweet words belie the sting to your tight channel, but the joy that overflows from your heart straight to you core soon drowns out the pain; this is how it was always meant to be: you trusting your body to Din, and Din taking care of you.  Slowly, slowly, your sheath yourself onto Din’s cock – fitted so close that you feel every thick vein and groove along your warm walls. 

Din’s kisses are gentler now, tender and reassuring like his words, “Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” “You feel so perfect around me,” “Love this tight cunt, missed her so much.”

His praise causes your pussy to gush and your hands card through his soft curls appreciatively.  Gazing into Din’s eyes lovingly, you coo back your own song, “Feels so good, daddy,” “God, I’m so full,” “Noone wrecks this pussy like you, baby.”

When you’re finally fully seated, with Din bottomed out inside you, his balls nestled perfectly under your ass, the two of you simply just rest.  Countless minutes go by so you can relearn to breathe and Din thanks his lucky stars for the privilege of praying at your altar once more.

Fully blissed out and body trembling upon remembering its rightful place on Din’s cock, you whisper, “Din, please move.” And move he does.

Slowly and with the restraint of a saint, Din thrusts up to meet your tentative downward movements, dragging his cock deliciously in and out of your tight cunt, letting her suck him back in of her own volition.  You wrap your arms around his neck and feel Din’s sensual kisses on your lips, down your neck, and at the hollows of your throat; the wet trail his mouth leaves behind causes an electric chill to run throughout your entire body, your hips bucking a little harder, a little more ambitious in response.

There’s no rush, the two of you have all the time in the world to enjoy your reunion, and yet there’s an urgency - a hunger to devour as much of one another as you can, both starved from your time apart.  The need to make up for lost time takes over; every kiss of skin on skin is an apology and a promise, your declarations of love becoming louder and more unabashed, movements more fervent, frantic.

Din groans into your skin, “Pretty bird, not going to last.  Missed you too much,” as he starts to punch up with an impressive force, driving his cock deeper into your cunt and reaching that spot that only he’s ever been able to find.

“Give it to me, daddy,” you mewl, barrelling towards to your own orgasm faster than you had expected, “Need it.  Need you.  I love you, I love you, I love you.”  This is the first time you’ve said it back tonight, and the only time Din’s heard these sweet words in the musical lilt of your voice in last five mouths – this alone sends him on the fast track to the edge.

He snakes one hand between your bodies to find your already pulsating clit and starts to pen a long overdue love letter with his thumb.  Din’s other arm pulls your body as close to his as possible, so you’re now pressed flushed against his warm chest, moving with him as one.

I’m sorry, baby.  I love you, pretty bird.  I love you.

I love you, Din.  Missed you so much.  I love you.

You come - teary eyes locked onto Din’s as he signs over his fate with an elegant signature on your clit.  Your slippery nub kisses his thumb back just as hard, crying and begging for relief as you clench down from the onslaught of pleasure that only Din can give you.  Din spills deep into you as your pussy chokes him, milking the euphoria of his release for all it’s worth.  He’s in heaven.  You’re his heaven.

Wordlessly, you and Din exchange soft smiles and besotted looks as you clean-up after; a string of never-ending tender kisses lead the two of you back to the couch where you lay down in Din’s arms, sated and pliant, soaking in the strength and sureness with which he holds you, “Din, we need to talk.”

“I know, pretty bird,” he’s ready to tell you everything, lay it all bare for you. 

Propping yourself up on your elbow so you can look Din in the eye, you implore him to be honest with you, “You said you needed me to hate you.  That it was the only way to keep me safe.  What were you talking about?”

Din tells you about the photos that the Family received which had been received as threats and the various confrontations and incidents of harassment in the months following that confirmed them as such.  He tells you how scared he’s been for you, and how guilty and sorry he is that you were ever caught up in his world in this terrifying way.

Forcing himself not to look away from your pretty face when he sees it line with fear, Din tells you that he never wanted you to feel frightened or for your life to be interrupted, “You’re safe, pretty bird, I promise.  You’re well protected - the entire Fett Family is looking out for you.  They love you as much as I do.  The Family would never abandon you.”

“Just you then?” It wasn’t meant as a sarcastic or passive aggressive comment, but you just honestly can’t see what this had to do with why Din left you.  If anything, wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to stay by your side?

Regardless of your meaning, Din looks pained at your question and averts his eyes in shame.

“I understand that you were afraid for me because of the threats, but if the Family was willing to protect me, I still don’t understand why you would need me to hate you to be safe?”

“You should never have been in danger at all, baby.  The reason you’re a target is because of me.  Whoever issued the threats only targeted you because… because, they knew how much you mean to me.  How much I love you.  It wasn’t enough just to protect you from the threat, I didn’t want you to be under threat at all.  That’s the only way to guarantee you would be safe.”

You stroke Din’s face with your hand, and he leans in to your comforting touch and closes his eyes.

“If you hated me, then you would no longer be a worthy target.  The person they really want to hurt is me, and if we weren’t together anymore, they can’t do that through you.”  Din sighs, “But I’m so sorry, pretty bird.  The way I went out about it was all wrong - hurting you like I did is inexcusable and it shattered my heart to do so.  You didn’t deserve to think I cheated on you.”

Your heart softens and you lean in to lay gentle, sympathetic kisses to Din’s soft lips.  Finally, finally you understand.  Though you don’t excuse the hurt he caused, you can understand Din’s fallacious reasoning; in an odd way, it’s a relief to see him so unchanged – his actions ever consistent with his self-sacrificing nature and his conviction to take care of those he loves, to keep them safe.  The only thing is, his was not the only heart he had sacrificed.

“I thought you never loved me,” you say in a small voice, “when I thought you had cheated on me, it made me question our entire relationship.”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Din’s shame and self-anger triple upon hearing your words.  He had expected you to be angry, to hate him for the lie he had you believe, but he never considered that you would have doubted what he felt for you prior to that horrible night.  Secure in the depth of his own devotion and the truth of just how in love with you he was, Din had thought what was unshakeable to him would be the same for you; but of course, now that you’ve said it, it makes complete sense and he adds this egregious transgression against you to his long list of regrets, “I’m so fucking sorry.  I never thought- oh, fuck.  It never crossed my mind that you might ever doubt how so completely in love with you I’ve always been.  From the moment I met you it was over for me, baby – you became the single most important person in my life.  I live for you, pretty bird.  I’m so sorry I ever made you feel any differently.”

Din looks at you with so much sincerity and desperation, you heart is unable to do anything but believe him.  You know without a shadow of a doubt that Din loves you and moreover, that everything he’s done has been in the name of that love.  And though you trust in his pure intentions, they’re misguided in a way that you have to make him understand.  If the two of you are to have a chance again, you need honesty and openness, and Din has to have faith in that same love when things get tough.

You’re lightly scratching Din’s facial scruff the way you know he loves, wanting to just enjoy this affectionate moment a little longer before you dive into the more serious things you need to talk about when you both hear Din’s phone start to buzz incessantly. 

Din reaches his long arm off the couch and easily finds his discarded pants and pulls out his phone, frowning when he sees the multiple notifications on his lock screen.

His entire body tenses as he reads Paz’s messages.

Hutt movement three blocks away from Lil’ Lady’s.

Woves confirms the group is growing.

Mods say traffic cams show more on the way. 

Din feels a stab of fear tear through his chest before the horror of what he’s done settles like a boulder in his stomach.

For the five months that Din had left you alone, there hadn’t even been a hint of suspicious activity anywhere near you.  No appearance of shady characters or any incidents of malfeasance, not a single one.  You had been safe.

What had changed tonight?  What could have possibly happened to incite a flurry of rival gang activity so close to your home when it had never previously been an issue?

It was him.  What had changed is he had been weak.  He had given in to his need for you, selfishly putting you in harm’s way.  Din realizes he had been right: staying away from you had been keeping you safe.  He gets up suddenly, the need to rectify his mistake overwhelming.

“Din?”

Din’s hurrying putting on his clothes and doesn’t answer you.  He doesn’t hear you get up from the couch after him and grab a house cardigan from the back of one of the dining room chairs to throw over yourself, watching as he carries on to leave without saying a word.

“STOP!!”

You hardly ever yell.  And you never slam your hand down on your dining table so hard and loud it hurts, but you need to get Din’s attention somehow.  It works - Din’s shocked out of his automated movements and turns to face you.

“What are you doing, Din?” you look distressed, confused, but most of all, frightened by what you think you already know is happening.

“This was a mistake, pretty bird.”

His words cause you to recoil; your voice comes out tight, bordering on bitter, “What was a mistake, Din?  Telling me you loved me, that you lived for me?  Or sleeping with me?  Tell me, which mistake do you mean?” 

Din rushes forward; he’s fucking up all over, he can tell, and hurting you again is the very last thing he ever wanted to do, “No, baby – none of that was a mistake.  Being with you tonight has been a happiness I never thought I’d feel again.  Honestly, I didn’t think I deserved it and still don’t think I do.  The mistake was me somehow thinking that everything was behind us.  That I wouldn’t be putting your safety at risk by coming over here.”

He can’t possibly be doing this again, you’re incredulous, “You’re doing this again?  You’re going to leave?  And I don’t get a say in it?”

“Pretty bird, you don’t understand.”

“Make me understand, Din.”

“There’s something happening right now, a danger that’s closer to you than should ever be allowed.  And it’s because I’m here.  This is proof that I’m no good for you baby.”

“Din, how can you say that?  I love you.”

“And I have to keep you safe because I love you, too.”

“What you’re doing is breaking my heart, Din. This isn’t the only way - you have to trust me.”

“This isn’t about trust, pretty bird, it’s about your safety.”

“Of course it’s about trust, Din!  You don’t trust me to be able to handle some of the things in your life – things that you think I’m too delicate or ‘good’ for, whatever the fuck that means.  You don’t trust me so you don’t tell me anything or let me make any decisions, and that’s really fucking condescending and hurtful.  You have to trust me, Din!  You have to trust that you can show me parts of yourself and your world that maybe aren’t perfect or you aren’t that proud of and that I’m not going to leave!  You have to trust that I love you enough!”

The silence between the two of you is punctuated only by your shallow breathing from finishing your speech and the electric tension that now hums in the air.  Something in Din’s brain is awakening, yelling at him that there’s a truth in your words that he hasn’t had the courage to face – that other than your safety, he’s been worried that bringing you fully into his world and telling you everything, sharing in all the fears and dark parts, would scare you away.  That he’s been afraid that you would walk away, so he did it first.

Din doesn’t know if he’s ready to face this realization or its implications out loud, not when you’re looking at him with so much disappointment and anger.  Not when the phone in his pocket continues to buzz non-stop.

You’re at your wit’s end and throw out ludicrously, “So, what?  We stay apart until you deem it safe again?  Then what, we’re allowed to date until the next time you think it’s safer for me if you leave?  And then we just repeat this pattern forever?”

Din’s exasperated too, frustrated with the unexpected turn this evening has taken – at himself.  He throws his hands up in the air, “I don’t know, okay?  I just know it’s not safe for you to be my girl right now.  And as for later?  May not then either?  Maybe you just don’t wait for me.”

You freeze, the retort on the tip of your tongue that you’re supposed to be a team and that Din doesn’t get to choose for the both of you, dissipates from your shock at his last words, “Wait. What do you mean ‘don’t wait for you’?”

Din doesn’t immediately clarify so you press on, “You would be okay with that?  If I moved on with someone else? Is that what you want?”

Din wants to reassure you; it’s not what he meant, of course.  His heart would shatter if you were with someone else; he had only meant that he knew it was terribly unfair for you to have to wait for this situation to resolve itself, and he didn’t want to force you to be or assume that you were okay with it – but it had come out wrong.  He stops himself from explaining though; realizing with a punch to the gut that he could use this to give you a clean slate, a clean break from him.  You would hate him again – but it would remove the temptation to come see you in secret like tonight, endangering your safety every time he was too weak to stay away from you.  So, he says nothing.

You take his silence the way he intends, as confirmation that Din doesn’t want you anymore and your tears come fast and threaten to overflow.   You’re angry, confused, and hurt.  Again. 

The barrier you had put up earlier when you so logically decided to figure out your feelings once you figured out the truth comes crashing down and you think you’re going to drown in the tidal wave of emotions that swell and rise with being so casually tossed away again.  You feel like a fool, letting Din toy with your feelings (and your body) over and over.

“Din.  Is that what you want?  Do you just want us to be over?” you choke out.

Din’s expression is unreadable and he won’t make eye contact with you - but when he sighs, it’s the most devasting sound you’ve ever heard in your life. 

Your cheeks are wet and you feel yourself shaking.  The words that are blabbering out now hardly make sense and you don’t think you even mean half of them, but you aren’t thinking straight - you just know these words will sting and make Din feel as bad as you do right now, “Why did you come tonight, Din? For an easy fuck?  You knew you would find guaranteed pussy here, didn’t you?  I can’t blame you, I guess. I mean, if you know you always have a desperate slut you can use, someone who’s stupid enough to buy whatever lies you tell her to get her to give it up, why not, right?”

Suddenly aware of how exposed you are, you pull your cardigan tighter over your body and shrink away from Din.

Din reaches for you - this, he cannot have.  He cannot have you reducing yourself to just a worthless fuck when you’re his sun.  He loves you more than anything, would hang the moon for you; you’re the most incredible and precious thing in his life, “No, no… that’s not it.  Please, pretty bird, don’t…”

You pull away from his outreaching hand and say in a flat, dead tone, “I’m not your pretty bird anymore.” 

Even Din can see that he’s hit your limit - hurt you beyond repair and now you’ve shut down.  Shut him out.  Fighting ever fibre in his body to go to you, soothe you and try to  reassure you of his love, he hangs his head, “No. You’re right… you’re not.”

The two of you stand in silence, facing each other but worlds apart, for what is probably only a minute but feels like forever.  Finally, Din turns to the front door to leave; pausing just after turning the handle, he whispers, “I’m sorry”, before exiting your apartment and closing the door behind him.

Once in the hallway, Din hears the lock turn immediately, followed by the most devastating sound he’s ever heard.  You’re sobbing, loud enough that he can hear it through the door and he wants more than anything to kick down the door and sweep you into his arms, take it all back - comfort you with kisses and lightly chastise you for even considering for a moment that he could ever stop loving you. 

But he doesn’t.  It’s better this way, Din tells himself. 

The sound of your sobs follows Din as he races down the stairs, towards the danger that lurks too closer for comfort.  He’s more than ready to take out his distress on the bastards who had deigned to look upon you as someone to threaten, to hurt - or just some unfortunate Hutts who found themselves in the wrong neighbourhood tonight.  Din doesn’t much care.  Blinking back his tears and steeling his resolve with clenched fists, all Din knows is you won’t be the only person he hurts tonight – you’re just the only one who doesn’t deserve it.

Exactly one week later, you storm into brunch still angry, exhausted and hurt from your altercation with Din the Sunday before; hot tears brim along your lash line from the humiliation of having slept with Din only for him to leave you again, and your frustration at his dismissal of any attempt to talk out your issues.  The only sure-fire thing you’ve decided is that there will be no more secrets - no more half truths, no more protecting people from hard and ugly realities.  Sure, you would have much preferred if this was the road upon which you and Din were embarking, but in lieu of that, you decide that you can come clean with your friends.  You tell them about the Fett Family and Din’s old role, and what he seems to still do for the Family.  You tell your friends about Poe, Boba, Cass, the Hutts and the Pykes, and the Mandos and the Mods.  You tell them about all the security incidents from earlier in the year and the threats you only just learned of and about Din’s and your place in it all.  You tell them about your run-in with Vanessa and how your date with Mark went and about sleeping with Din last week.  You tell them everything that’s yours to tell and even somethings that aren’t because you’re done with pretending that these secrets are worth keeping and somehow worth your happiness.

Your friends are speechless; all the food, and shockingly the drinks, are untouched as you talk and only after you indicate you’re done with your recollection of how Din left you crying in your foyer, do they descend on you to offer their kind supportive words and loving hugs.  Once everyone is settled back in their seats and people’s emotions have leveled out a bit, Rory asks,

“Do you still love him?”

It’s not the question you expected from her, or from any of your friends really, and it truly deflates you as you lean back in your chair to contemplate your response.  The last week saw you primarily cataloguing Din’s transgressions against your heart; it’s a long list and it had kept your mind and heart fairly preoccupied.  You’re furious at him… but did his foolhardy actions change the man you believed he was?  The man you had loved?  You answer only what you’re sure of,

“It doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t seem to matter to him what I think or feel.  Din just does what he thinks is best.”

Your friends nod sympathetically, understanding you’re already fighting a seemingly endless battle between your head and your heart.  They thoughtfully put forth their opinions in between bites of their now cold dishes:

“No matter what his reasoning is, it doesn’t give him the right to jerk you around in the name of ‘your safety’.”

“Does he have a point though?  Is it dangerous to be with him? Are you scared?”

“Won’t the Family protect you?  Why is he acting like he’s the only one who cares about you?”

“I don’t like that he hurt you on purpose with that Vanessa nonsense.  That lie was so elaborate.”

“How many times does he think he can do this to you?”

“You deserve someone who is honest with you.  Someone who will treat you like an equal partner in everything.”

“He loves you so much.  It’s always been clear to us that you’re his whole world, babe.”

You agree with it all – these same thoughts have been running laps in your mind since the night Din closed your door behind him.  Din’s martyr-like approach to your safety did not sit well with you, especially when it sacrificed the wellbeing of your heart without so much as a consultation of your feelings; it’s crystal clear to you now that entirely too many lies and secrets had been justified and tolerated in the last several months and even your relationship prior.  Yes, you know how you feel about what Din did.

But how do you feel about him?  To a certain degree, you know you still love Din, but things just aren’t that simple anymore.  Given everything that’s happened, how can you feel about him?  You don’t know.

6 months ATN

Waiting until there’s a break in the traffic, you cross the street quickly, heading straight for the bookstore across from your office building.  Right away, you spot the display you’re looking for: the centre table for “Current Hot Reads” with Bea’s book right in the middle - you can’t help but grin widely.  Picking up four copies, you busy yourself for a few minutes straightening up the display - strategically stacking and propping up copies of your friend’s book so it stands out in a pleasing manner amongst the other titles.  When you stand back, satisfied, to review your work, a kind voice behind you says, “Are you the author, dear?” You turn to see an older woman in a delightfully ostentatious fur coat smiling at you.

Unable to keep the pride out of your voice, you beam, “Ha ha ha!  No, one of my best friends is!  I’m actually buying these as gifts to give out to our mutual girlfriends at dinner tonight!”

“Oh, that’s so lovely dear!  What a good friend you are!” the lady smiles, “What is the book about?”

“It’s a modern romance, childhood best friends turned lovers.  The first in her series!” you gush, ready to talk Bea up to the high heavens.

“Oh lovely!  My granddaughter loves romance novels, maybe I should get it for her?”

For a moment you simply imagine what the granddaughter might think when reading the smut her sweet nana bought her and you do your best to hold in your chuckle, “Tell you what.  I’m going to buy an extra copy and leave it at the cashier for you.  If you decide you don’t want it or prefer to buy a copy, just tell the cashier to pass it on to the next person who’s interested.”

“Oh dear, you don’t have to do that!”

“I know!  But I want to!  I can’t tell you how much it delights me to support my friend.  Please ask your granddaughter to help spread the word about the book and the author.  I know she’ll love it, it really is just that good,” you enthuse.

The older woman squeezes your hand in thanks as you pick up a fifth copy of Bea’s book; leaving her to read the jacket summary as you head to the cashier.  After giving the cashier the instructions for the last copy, you give the display another quick once over before leaving the bookstore, heading directly to dinner with a spring in your step.

---

Din sees you the moment you walk in.  For some reason, maybe a sixth sense, he had looked up at the bookstore front door before it opened, and there you were.  He hasn’t seen you since the night he left you crying in your apartment, the same night he sent half of the Hutt enforcements to the hospital; when he accepted this surveillance post for the day, he had half hoped he would see you.  You’re just as stunning and bright as the you he keeps in his memories, if not more so.

He had also seen the display of Bea’s books when he walked in and already picked up a copy to buy in support; he figured he would give it to Lisa.  Din watches you rearrange the display from behind the shelves, trying not to be a creep but unable to take his eyes off of you – wistfully, he recalls seeing you do the same thing on the day you first met; it’s no less charming now than it was then.  Listening with a smile as you talk excitedly to the older lady about Bea’s book, Din’s heart swells when he hears you offer to buy her granddaughter a copy.  You’re still you.  Sweet, generous, unassuming, and unflinchingly kind.

God, he misses you.

He’s been trying to put you out of his mind, of course; positive that he’s eradicated not only any goodwill or affectionate feeling you may have held for him a few months ago, but also any chance he had of ever being with you again.  Whereas before he kept away for your safety and his own self punishment, he does so now out of self preservation.  To steel himself for his future without you.

Din does, however, allow himself one photo of you.  It’s one that Paz took the night of the fight with Rotta Hutt.  Taken right after he’s scooped you up ringside, the shot shows only the back of Din’s head, but your face is on full display, filled with joy and adoration.  He looks at it everyday; trying not to long for you more than he already does, Din comes to regard it as motivation of sorts – this is what makes all his misery worth it, he thinks to himself.  You.  Happy.

And while he can’t bring himself to delete his photos of you off his phone, or even erase your old messages, Din never looks at them either.  He doesn’t deserve to.  Especially not the dirty texts and photos; he doesn’t have a right to see you that way anymore - as much as he misses you, Din won’t violate your privacy.  But on the days when the pressure, stress and Din’s own loneliness lead him to release his frustration while in the shower, he imagines a soft hand touching him and knows it’s yours.  The voice that he hears telling him how good it feels, he knows is yours.  The moans that ring in his ears as he furiously fucks his fist can only be yours.  And when he comes, choking out broken pants of I love you, I love you, I fucking loving you so much, those words are for you and you only.

Seven months ATN

Opening your guest room closet, you sigh to yourself. 

It’s time. 

You’ve been avoiding doing this, but not only is it long overdue, you’re also embarrassed at how anxious you’ve been to attempt this task.  It’s been two months since Din left you crying on your knees in the front foyer of your apartment and seven since you fled his apartment after believing he had cheated on you.  In that hazy first week, you had gone around the apartment grabbing anything that belonged to him and stuffed it into what ended up being an overflowing bin that you then shoved into the back of the guest room closet.  Out of sight, out of mind.

But you have guests coming to stay next week, and moreover, it bothers you how rude it is to have kept these belongings that aren’t yours.  It was one thing when Din had been a lying cheating bastard; but now that you know he hadn’t had any ill intent and was as much of a victim of his poor decisions as you are, it doesn’t feel right to hang on to these items.  Bringing home some flat packing boxes from the work mailroom, you assemble them first, trying to prolong actually having to go through your ex’s things.

Stop being a chicken shit, you chide yourself, it’s been months.  Get over it and get it over with. You pull the bin out of the closet and his smell, Din’s smell, immediately hits you when you when you start to take out the clothes.  You close your eyes and let yourself breathe in the familiar scent.  It’s as inviting as you remember and immediately brings his handsome visage to your mind.  When you open your eyes, they’re filled with tears.  Dammit.

You force yourself to work through your tears.  Fighting it at first but eventually allowing yourself to recall memories associated with Din’s items, you feel and expunge all the emotions you had hidden away like you had these belongings.  It’s cathartic and freeing, and once you’ve shed the tears you need, you make quick work of the task.  When you’ve filled the last box, you write a short note apologizing how long it’s taken to return these items and quickly tape up the boxes so that the contents are once again out of your sight.

---

The following weekend, you and Katie take a cab with the boxes to Din’s neighbourhood.  You don’t think you’re ready to see Din in person, but you think you can handle dropping off the boxes… at Peli’s.  Katie helps you carry the boxes from the taxi into the drycleaner’s and you ring the little bell Peli leaves out when she’s in the back working with the machines.  You see her bushy crown of curls before you do her inviting face, the smile she smiles when she sees you is brighter than the sun.  You feel warmed just seeing her again.

“Well, look who it is,” Peli grins, eyes full of genuine cheer and relief, “long time no see.”

Nodding, your heart feels a tug with how much you’ve missed Peli and all the other friends you made through Din who you haven’t seen in months, “Too long, Peli!”

“Glad you can admit you missed me,” she teases, holding absolutely nothing against you, “what can I do for you?  Don’t tell me those boxes are full of drycleaning?”

“Oh… no.  Could I ask you for a favour?” sheepish that the very first time you see Peli after such a long absence, you’re asking something her.

Peli’s good nature isn’t phased for even a second, “Of course!  Anything for you, love.”

Then as if some higher being heard your request before you had a chance to speak it, Paz walks through the front door of the drycleaners.  He’s just as surprised to see you as you are him, but readily leans in to give you and Katie welcoming hugs.

“Hi Lil’ Lady.  Whatcha doing here?”

You gesture to the boxes and look between Peli and Paz, “Just wanted to drop off Din’s things but…  I didn’t feel up to going to Mando’s.  Do you think I could trouble you to get these boxes to him?”

Peli looks shocked, and for a moment you wonder if it’s possible that she didn’t know that you and Din haven’t been together for over half a year now.  Paz saves you from the potentially long and awkward explanation by nodding with some sympathy, “No problem, I’ll carry them over.”

“Thank you, Paz.”

“No problem, Lil’ Lady,” Paz gives you a smile that looks regretful, maybe even sad.

You turn to go, but suddenly feel compelled to make one last request, “Please don’t tell Din you saw me?  I don’t want him thinking about me anymore.”  You say this without any malice or bitterness, though you’re not convinced it comes out that way.

When going through Din’s belongings, you were initially hard hit by the waves of sadness and grief from the loss of your relationship; but after letting the ache of your heart dull, you had surprising found comfort in a barrage of happy memories:

Din’s favourite basketball team shirt you slept in.  You had teased him mercilessly for how often he wore it, but showered him in compliments at how good he looked in those loud team colours every time.  When you explained to him what Pima cotton was and delighted in a sports shirt feeling so luxuriously soft, you noticed that Din started leaving it for you to wear for sleep – first only at his apartment, but before long, he “allowed” the shirt to migrate to your place.

That lime green sweater he wore the first time he was invited to girl’s Sunday brunch.  Bea had wanted to introduce the new guy she was dating and thought that having another boy at the table might make it less intimidating.  Din had gone and immediately clocked Gideon to be an asshole, but somehow managed to convey a polite, yet protective vibe throughout the meal.  When Bea broke up with that odious man a few weeks later, Din, invited back to brunch and coincidentally wearing the same sweater had been so supportive (“You deserve better than that self-absorbed blow hard”), even offering to “take care of him” for her.  You had quickly refused on Bea’s behalf, knowing what “take care” might actually mean, but it had cheered her up so much nonetheless.

His cozy oversized patterned jacquard cardigan that Din wore whenever it was nippier out than usual.  Large enough that it could envelope you while being worn, Din took every opportunity to do so - pressing you against his hard chest while wrapping the front around you to keep the chill away when you were out at the farmers’ market, waiting for the subway, or just standing on the sidewalk while Al finished sniffing his favourite spots.

And more – all the clothes and items you packed away had at least one memory associated with Din where he had made you feel warm, cared for, cherished.

How grateful and lucky you were that Din had loved you the way he did.

Yes, he had broken your heart, but you know that he himself didn’t get away unscathed – Din had also been destroyed by your breakup.  Having long since recognized the immature and empty things said during your last fight as your own emotional lashing out, you saw with more clarity how your own hurt and pain had sliced through Din’s already battle damage armour.  To be honest, you regret your words and how you left things with Din; though the way he did it was all wrong, Din had only ever loved you, cared for you and put you first in the way that he believed matter the most.  And he did so without fanfare, pomp or circumstance - expecting neither accolades nor acknowledgment, or even a hint of self satisfaction.

Your heart truly goes out to Din.  He so willingly carries the weight of the responsibility to take care of others, to put their well being over his own wants and desires; he sees it only as his duty and a mark of his honour to put himself last.  Din never gives himself leave to be selfish, despite being the most deserving for exactly that reason; as long as others are well taken care of, you know that Din would never complain or wish for more for himself.  And while your heart has done its share of mourning for yourself, it also breaks for Din – you know with certainty that he’s as devastated as you are, and yet, he also bears the guilt of having been the cause of your respective heartbreak; likely believing himself undeserving of any sympathy or comfort.

You remember what Boba had once said of Din, that he’s a caretaker through and through.  He attends to the needs of those around him and always has – thinking of the betterment of others, sometimes, and possibly even often, at the expense of his own.  But Din’s always done so happily - it was his duty and he performed it consistently, admirably.  And you remember that you had promised Boba that you would take care of Din right back.

Refusing to add to Din’s already heavy burden when it came to your breakup, you don’t want him to think about you more than he has to when he gets his belongings back; you know he will only spiral into more self blame wondering if you’re still mad or how much you hate him.  He will undoubtedly think about how you might be hurting, and then feel regret and guilt, disappointment or whatever else that eats at him.

So, you make Paz promise not to tell Din that he saw you, to say that Peli had called him over to get the boxes and you were already gone when he arrived.  The fierce look in your eyes tells Paz that you won’t relent and he acquiesces – you were prepared to fight him if necessary, the urge to protect Din where you still can burning brightly within your heart.

Quiet and heartfelt goodbyes are said and longer than needed hugs are dispensed before you and Katie leave Peli’s, arms now empty.  As the cab pulls away, you wave what you sadly think might be your last goodbye to two people you’ve also come to love and will miss terribly.

9 months ATN

Seeing Peli and Paz at the drycleaner’s is the last contact you have with Din’s world.

After nearly the better part of a year, it no longer feels strange that there are facets of a life you had come to embrace, that are no longer familiar - like bringing baked goods down to Mando’s, or being part of the celebratory group when a Mando’s boxer wins a title.  Making a normal portion size of garlic knots is once again the norm.

Periodically, it might feel unsettling when you remember that you are or were, at least at one time, under threat, and that there are unseen eyes on you, both friendly and unfriendly.  But you never see anyone or any actual evidence of this so there’s not much you can dwell on.  Who’s to say the circumstances of the situation haven’t changed or if you’re even on anyone’s radar anymore?  It’s likely you’ve been forgotten by now and you leave these thoughts at that.

With time, you go from thinking of Din constantly, to less frequently, and now only periodically.  You don’t think you’ll ever quite forget Din.  He had loved you fiercely, of that you were certain, and in turn, you had loved him back just as hard.  He was undoubtedly, a great love of your life.  You don’t think that type of connection is easy to find, nor would you attempt to try and do so again – the way Din had seen you so completely and how you had felt being his was not a feeling you think you’ll let go of any time soon. 

But the price for that type of love was one that you hadn’t been prepared to pay – adherence to some creed or code of honour that was willing to sacrifice your heart wasn’t something you could open yourself up to again.  Not even for that kind of love.  But it didn’t mean you couldn’t look back on it with fondness and remember Din as a man you admired adamantly and would continue to hold up as one of the best men you’ve ever known.

He was kind.  Protective.  Caring and loyal. 

The strength of his character and his generous nature live on in your grateful heart.

Some of your happiest memories will always be ones that you shared with Din.  He had, as was his highest priority, made you feel safe and cherished; despite how it all ended, you knew his motivations and the intentions of his heart to be pure - he had only ever wanted the best for you.  Din’s easy way of making you laugh, supporting you in all your endeavors and of lightening your mental and physical load, all while making you feel like the most special person in any room, were not easily forgotten.  Nor his integrity, considerate nature and the gentleness of his touch.  A lover and a fighter – Din was a rare combo indeed.

You think you’ll love Din until your dying day, but you can’t pine for him anymore.

Had you forgiven him?  Hardly.  But forgiveness wasn’t necessary. 

Forgiveness implied that you needed something to change, to be acknowledged, in order to move forward, and that just simply wasn’t the case.  You neither forgave him or were looking to forgive Din; you didn’t expect there to be a continuation of your story and so, as far as you were concerned, neither of you owed anything further to the other, including forgiveness.  You’re at peace with where the pages of your love story have permanently fallen open; having reread those finally passages a million times, you’ve worked through your grief of having to put Din and your relationship behind you - what remains is only a nostalgic sort of affection and maybe wistfulness.

Your life has gone on without him, but it had always been full before you met Din and it remains so after him: full of friends, hobbies, Alfredo, accomplishment and pride in your work, and everything else your undoubtedly privileged life has to offer.  That’s probably the best word to describe it.  These days, when you do think of Din, it can be without bitterness or disappointment, because you do so only with genuine gratitude; not everyone will have the good fortune of being loved so wholly, so generously and so fearsomely, albeit it had only been for a little while.  Yes, it takes no great effort to admit: it had been a privilege to be loved by Din Djarin.

It’s been a good day.  Great even.  All your meetings finish on time (!), and no one on your team, yourself included, had extra work assigned at the last minute – you’re all able to leave ON TIME.

Stepping out of your office building, you can’t quite believe it – you haven’t seen this side of 5:30 since… you were a junior?  No, that’s an exaggeration, but it’s been a long time for sure.

You and your colleagues exchange excited hugs, marveling at your luck; a few even joke that you should all prepare to pay for this tomorrow before laughing and each going in your separate directions.

Pausing for a moment where you stand, you contemplate maybe popping into the bookstore across the street before heading home when your eyes are drawn to a hulking figure that sits on one of the courtyard benches directly facing your office.  Despite his size and striking profile, the man’s presence isn’t terribly imposing, but it is a wonder that you hadn’t notice him until now.

You lock eyes with the man, not ready to believe he’s really there, when he gives you a tentative smile along with a small wave of the bouquet of peonies that he holds in his hand.

Din.

Thanks so much again to anyone who has read this far in the series with me - I love you all so much! Your kind words and encouragement really motivated me to finish this chapter a bit earlier than I had anticipated! I'm still on the cruise, so I'm just posting this when the ship's wifi is strong 🤣 so adding a few tags for those who have expressed an interest in the story (if you don't want to be tagged, please tell me!):

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo @yopossum @cartonkid1200 @rav3n-pascal22

[jensky2000]

The Epilogue

Thank you for all your support for this little story. I am happy to bring this one to completion. I appreciate your comments, likes, kudos and reblogs. I’m not going to say this is my last JC story because I always contradict myself. (I will pray and hope that this is my last Frank story.)

(I will continue with "Little Voices" but I need a break. A short one. A palate cleanser if you will. I need fresh eyes. My personal update deadline is 9/21.)

Also a special thanks to those that purchased my book on Amazon. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Below are the links to "All the Secrets" by Jennifer Skye. My kindle book.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CW19YSLV

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CW19YSLV

[bingebuddie]

Here... We... Go...

Hi all,

Well, so far, 2024 has sucked for me... but anyway...

I've been feeling pretty out of sorts mentally, and depending on where my head is at, I've been bouncing back and forth between Fics and my Wes and Cole novel.

I am going on a writing retreat May 4-12th... so... expect some major movement...

I wanted to provide a few updates on where I am with my Fics and other works.

Sideways:

Published updates here have been slower than I wanted or anticipated. This has nothing to do with the story, as I have this outlined for Arcs 6-10... Yes, up to Arc 10.

My personal life has gotten in the way a lot over the last few months and has just eaten up my time to write.

Now, Arc 6 will lead right into Arc 7 and 7 into 8. You will want to throw some stuff at me for some of the wtf moments and having to wait between arcs... but it's all coming. Anyone new to the series has had the benefit of reading five fully finished-out arcs that took me about a year to write. Have some patience with me. It will be worth it.

Arc 6, Into The Unknown, has multiple chapters drafted. I just need to clean up some edits from my beta, and they will be posted. May is going to be a big month for this arc.

This is a pivotal point in the series. It spans Chapters 37-48, making it the longest arc so far. This installment will delve into the Seals' backstory, their connection with Buck and Eddie, and much more. It’s a substantial piece of the puzzle that you won't want to miss.

This one does have some heavy moments...

This does end with a cliffhanger... But I promise, it's not our boys directly you are left wondering about...

Arc 7—Strong—Eddie will need his friends and family like never before. This is a heavy Diaz family arc. The outline is eight Chapters.

This also ends in a cliffhanger and that promise I made above... does not apply here.... insert evil laugh...

Arc 8 Genesis—This is the big one. It all comes together here, and it is the part I am most excited to write. It is also the longest, with an outline of 16 chapters. You will find out more about Genesis in Arc 6.

This arc will change all of their lives and the status quo as we know it. Grab your seats and tissues. The previous title for this was Unleashed...

Arc 9 - Experience/Circles - Tentative Title - No tease, as it will spoil what's to come...

Arc 10 - My All - googles Mariah Carey ...

Sideways isn't going anywhere...

Shifted:

Volume 1: Nevermore

This was originally planned to be 30 chapters. I have 20 published right now. The rest of this is outlined, and chapters 21-25 are written and ready to be published. I haven't posted these because Chapter 25 ends on a massive cliffhanger, and I don't want to leave you all hanging. I will be finishing this... after Arc 6 of Sideways ...

I have a plan for the second arc... but that's all the way behind everything else on my docket...

Impossible:

If you have read this one, I have yet to post the last chapter...

This has an MCD, and while I was writing this, I lost a friend. It was hard to finish. I have finished the outline, and this will be completed soon.

Run:

This is on hold. I have too much else to focus on. Consider this on hiatus until I say otherwise. It might even be scrapped... will see...

Would You Mind:

This one was a lot of fun... The wrap-up/epilogue is done; it's with my beta...

Lap Dancing Eddie will return... in Sideways...

I Don't Want To Be Your Freind:

As of today, 7 of 11 chapters are posted. This is all outlined. I have drafts of chapters 8-11 done. Going to beta and will be posting soon...

I started this leading up to Season 7; it was my mind dealing with all the rumors and leaks... In my mind and my group chat, I was calling this my Anti Tommy and Marisol fic...

This got way out of hand and became a monster of a fic...

Now... on to what else I have brewing...

Future Shock - 3 Part Series - Magic/BAMF/Mayhem/Found Family/Soul Mates/Redux/Ryan Throw's The Timeline Into A Blender and Tada...

As It Is - 2030 and the 118 have been a fractured team since the lawsuit. When members of the team start to be picked off one by one, Hen, Chim, and Bobby, have no one to turn to until friends and family return in their most desperate hour.

As It Was - Details what led to the fracturing of the 118. A retelling of Season 2 and part of season 3...

As It Was Always Meant To Be - Now reunited, will the 118 be able to rally around each other, or will their painful past be too much to overcome.

This has a loose outline and it's very large ...

Depressed, Devasted, and Destroyed aka Something To Hold On To:

I keep calling this Triple D or DDD... This is a pure angst fest... major whump... like I'm mad at myself for the whump here ... seriously...

This has an outline...

Relationship Goals—In an effort to rebuild their friendship after their recent relationships crash and burn, Buck and Eddie join a local hockey team along with some of Buck's old seal friends. This was pure fan service to myself and a way to get Buck, Eddie, Wes, and Cole to play hockey and not have to do it on Sideways. This currently sits around 60 pages.

Stolen - A stolen kiss changes everything between Buck and Eddie... This angst fest is somehow incredibly soft... This is about 35 pages right now...

The Ties That Bind - Buck breakdown fic... This might get scrapped and merged into DDD from above...

All I Want for Christmas - Think Scrooged Vs. It's A Wonderful Life Vs 911... This won't be posted until holiday time...

The Wes and Cole novel is still moving along... it's my refuge when the show does something stupid...

I should probably get to writing... it's not like I have nothing to do....

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,356

Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.

Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.

Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.

I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake

A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.

Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.

If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.

Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.

Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.

He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.

Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.

He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.

“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”

“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”

Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.

Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”

“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”

“I did warn you.”

“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”

“The Mareco?”

“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”

Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”

“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”

“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”

“About what?”

“About how you developed a problem with authority.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“What can I say? I was led astray.”

It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.

“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”

“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”

“Maybe you were my exception too.”

A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.

"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”

Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”

By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.

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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.

Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.

As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.

The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.

“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”

“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”

She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.

Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.

“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”

“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”

“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”

Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.

“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”

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It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.

The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.

Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.

“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”

“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”

Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.

They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.

“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.

Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”

“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”

Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.

“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.

“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.

“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”

Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.

Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.

Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.

“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.

“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.

“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.

“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.

“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”

“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”

“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”

Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.

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Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.

Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.

“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”

Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.

“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”

“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”

Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.

Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.

Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.

As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home. 

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Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.

“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.

“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”

“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”

Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.

“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.

“You had a good teacher.”

“So did you.”

“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”

“Like our Christmas tamales.”

“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”

“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”

Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.

“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.

“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”

“What?”

“You must’ve heard the arguments?”

“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”

“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”

“That’s what it was about?”

“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”

“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”

“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.

Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.

“How did you know?”

“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”

Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.

“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”

“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”

Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”

Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.

“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.

“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.

“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.

“He does.”

“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”

Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.

“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”

“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”

“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”

“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”

“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”

Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, you were there a whole year?”

“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”

“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”

“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.

“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”

Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”

“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”

“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”

“It was killing you.”

“I know.”

“And Papá would have told you the same.”

A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”

“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”

“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”

But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.

“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”

“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”

Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.

He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.

“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”

“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”

“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”

“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”

“You never said anything.”

Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”

Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”

It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”

“I don’t just mean the ambush.”

“I know,” she said briskly.

But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”

“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”

“Are you mad?”

“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”

An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.

“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”

“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”

“We will, I promise.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”

“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”

“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”

“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.

Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”

“How did –?”

She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”

Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.

“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”

“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”

“Something like that.”

Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.

------------------------------------------------------

Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.

That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.

A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.

“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.

“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”

“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.

“Fuck you.”

Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.

Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”

“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.

“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.

“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”

“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”

“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."

------------------------------------------------------

It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.

The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.

“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”

“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.

“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”

Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.

“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”

“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”

Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.

She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”

Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”

“Guest’s choice.”

He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.

That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.

“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”

Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”

“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”

“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”

“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”

“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”

“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.

“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.”

“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”

The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.

“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.

Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”

“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”

Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.

“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”

“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.

“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”

Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”

“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”

“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”

“Maybe.”

“Drink up.”

Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”

Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”

Javier gasped. “There are?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”

“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."

“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”

“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”

“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.

She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)

“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”

“A fair demand.”

“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”

“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.

His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”

For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.

But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”

Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.

But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.

Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.

“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.

“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”

He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.

“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”

At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”

“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.

She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”

[doctorjuvenile]

Things from WtA The Book of Hungry Names you should know pt. 2

pt. 1 here

I'm about to start my fourth playthrough lol

5. The coordinates Daphne sends you for investigating the Pattern Line are a real location in Northampton, Massachusetts.

> I’m willing to let you condescend to me if you’re willing to help me out CrestFolder180IQ Your terms are acceptable. CrestFolder180IQ Meet me at 42°25'50.3"N 72°40'49.3"W at 10:30 PM.

Right at the tip of this path. (sooo IRL Garou meetup when?)

6. By my best estimates, the game takes place over the course of 2022-2024.

Now, the game plays pretty loose with exact dates, and I'm sure the ambiguity is intended. What we know for sure though is that Book of Hungry Names takes place over two and a half years (from beginning to epilogue).

Nonetheless, because I'm obsessed, I'm basing my assumption off of some strong hints:

The game definitely takes place after the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic, since Stormcat literally refers to it once you're in the second half of the game (foreshadowing the Jigsaw Plague chapter)

Will Northampton be ground zero for the next pandemic? Even I do not know.

2) Honestly, my biggest clue here are the years Melodie and Harmonie graduated high school (2016 and 2013 respectively), and the fact that she is 23 when you retrieve her from Ashfield.

Harmonie Palys graduated Berkshire Regional High School in 2013. Her sister, Melodie, graduated in 2016.

Melodie, who is twenty-three, angrily sips her Kir Pamplemousse.

Going off of the North American education system (where I myself graduated high school in 2014, and am presently around 27 years old), and assuming no skipped or repeated years, Melodie should be about 25 by the game's epilogue, which must take place in 2024. Harmonie would be 28 if she were still alive today.

Working backwards, that means it's 2022 in the first half of the game (where Melodie is stated to be 23). The timeline just works perfectly.

3) In the second half of the game, Nin will "talk your ear off about the new Blood Ceremony album." The album (The Old Ways Remain) dropped in 2023, thus further perfectly fitting in with the 2022-2024 timeline.

7. Speaking of guessing character's ages, I have a good idea of the rest of them...

Elton: I tried guessing Elton's age and he's anywhere from 24-26 over the course of the game to 29-31. My clues here are how you can find a picture of him and Katherine in a newspaper after arriving in Northampton early on and researching in the library. The photo states he's 19, and the photo itself is "maybe five to ten years old."

...the picture is labeled "Linus Harrowman, 46, Elton Dey, 19, and Katherine Aslanian, 20, have opposed the Broad Brook expansion, which would--" Then it turns into a more randomized babble. The photo is in color, the newspaper maybe five or ten years old.

Player Character: I am certain your character starts the game at 20 years old. The ID Daphne gives you shows your real age, which is below the legal drinking age in the U.S. (i.e. 21), but by the time a year passes in-game, you are now able to drink legally.

[Early game:] To your considerable irritation, the birthdate on the ID is the same year as your real birthday, which means you can't get into most bars. [Second half of game, one year later:] Armed with your Massachusetts State ID that finally says you're 21...

You, Podge, and Nin: Regardless, the whole pack drinks together in the epilogue at the last Hog Throne show, implying your entire pack is now at least 21 (legal American drinking age). So by this point, I think PC is 22, and Podge and Nin are legally 21, meaning they would be about 19 or 20 at the start of the game.

8. Intelligence isn't just tied to your book-smarts or occult knowledge, it also influences whether you can catch pop cultural/musical references.

I mean, my first two characters (galliard/December and theurge/October) had good-to-excellent INT (3-5pts), so the text described Elton's Mezzanine shirt, Highlander halloween costume, Podge being dressed up as the girl from the "Everyday Is Like Sunday" music video, Nin's Sophie Scholl hoodie, etc all by name or direct reference.

But I noticed with my third ahroun (January) character, whom I deliberately kept at 1 INT the entire game, that she didn't catch ANY of that -- the Mezzanine t-shirt is a "white t-shirt with a black insect scrawled across half its surface," she thinks Elton is dressed as the Scarlet Pimpernel, that Nin is maybe wearing a hoodie with her own face on it, etc. (You can get some pretty funny extra dialogue out of being so clueless.)

This makes sense when you consider that your Academics and Intelligence tutor in this game is a badass art teacher who used to be in the '90s demoscene.

[utterlyhooked]

I had to sleep on it and I have calmed down a bit. Till The End Of The Moon hooked me from the very first episode which is very rare. Even my favourites took a while, The Untamed took 21 episodes for me to get really into it. Love Between Fairy and Devil took around 18-20 episode mark for me to care. I really loved them afterwards!

You are probably wondering, what does the GIF above have to do with what I have to say. Well, it’s simply there to remind me why I love this drama because I still do but I am heartbroken about how the ending was handled. My thoughts are everywhere, so, I’m sorry if it’s incoherent.

The takeaway from this drama is tribulation, one after the other. Just suffering, suffering, more suffering, and martyring yourself to an ungratelful populace in every realm and only acknowledged by a handful. Yes, a handful, or maybe the Yiyue Tribe would add to that number but, we don’t know because Nian Baiyu was just flung into the Barren Abyss never to be heard from again. *sigh* Apologies, I’m being bitter. Li Susu probably told everyone and got the sects in line.

If they were going for a sad ending, then what was that?! If an open ending, again, what was that?! And then a happy ending audio was thrown in to the mix! The indecisiveness was breathtaking, it simply makes you seethe! Pick one, commit to it and do it well! They were trying to please everyone and utterly missing the target.

Those who love this kind of Xianxia with very dark themes (for cdramas, I think this is dark) mostly are not averse to sad endings. Sometimes it’s even expected. Great sad endings leaves you sobbing, heartbroken, and melancholic. That’s the beauty of it, it makes it memorable! If it’s a happy ending, fantastic! Everyone loves a happy ending. Great open endings make you think, not angry!!! however, I find that open endings are generally just ok (with exceptions), but thats ok too! The tragic thing about all this is the source material already had a sad ending, if a sad ending was what they were aiming for, and the epilogue of the novel provided a happy ending, if a happy ending was what they intended to do! They did not even have to think of an alternative because it was already there! And yet... *sighs*

Some mutuals decided to end watching at episode 35. They are happy that they did it and I am happy for them. But if I was to recommend this cdrama, I can’t really say that they should end at that episode because subsequent episodes brought us

Shifu and Cang Jiumin scenes which was beautiful, I was sobbing.

Li Susu thinking that TTJ was dead and was trying her hardest to fight and kill her awful bio dad and failing miserably

TTJ saving her and killing Di Mian, extremely satisfying!!!

The relief in her face seeing him alive only to realize that he had the intention of becoming the Devil God. The scream alone is worth watching!

When he took out the soul extinguishing spikes from his heart to convince her that he indeed has become the Devil God. The sorrow in her eyes.

I’m sure theres a bit more

and of course, the later part of episode 39... the Ye mansion scene. The sadness and longing. Somehow missing each other so much while they are in each others arms. So bittersweet.

Having read the novel, I knew from the few chapters in that they have deviated from it so much. I thought, ok, at least we are getting 2 stories out of it. Its just that precious screentime was used on characters that I thought was irrelevant to the overall story. Mo Nv could have been taken out completely and it would not have mattered to the story at all. They could still made Gonye Jiwu a jealous, vindictive, and bitter (ex) without her. Li Susu and Tantai Jin meeting with Ye Qingyu in JIng Kingdom was cut out instead. I saw some stills, so they did film it. It would have been better story showing on how the emperor can be the same emperor for the last 500 years.

I still have a lot in my mind but this is getting too long. Anyway, I now have 2 new favourite actors, so there is that.

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 14] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 3.9k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

One for The History Books - Chapter 14: Becalmed

The question has been weighing on your mind, there was just never a really good moment to ask. Even now, it's not a good moment.

In comfortable silence, somewhat hungover, naked and cuddling in bed while the morning sunlight is streaming through a crack in your blinds. Bradley's tan skin almost glows bathed in the soft light. His caramel curls are tussled as he's leaning on his elbow, head resting on his hand. A stubble has appeared on his normally well-kept face. His other hand is on your hip, lazily drawing circles on your skin. You're laying down facing him, although your eyes are nervously roaming around the room.

“How long are you staying?” You blurt out suddenly. Bradley's eyes widen in surprise. Christ, you have the subtlety of a flash-bang grenade.

“You know I have to return to base today, sweetheart.” He replies softly, a worried frown on his face as he studies you. You still refuse to meet his eyes.

“I know—I me- what I meant…” You take a breath to stop yourself from blabbering needlessly. “I wanted to know how long you are staying state-side.”

“Oh.” Another silence falls, not nearly as comfortable as before. His hand stills on your hip. You almost don't dare to meet his eyes—you're not naive, the nature of his job will just not have him in one place for very long—but fuck, just “oh” was really not what you wanted to hear.

“I have a couple of weeks before I have to report for a new detachment,” Bradley says in that same soft tone, cautiously, like he doesn't want to upset you.

“I see.” You bite your lip nervously.

“Sweetheart, you look bothered.” Bradley has a slight frown on his face. “This is what my life is like…” He trails off as he shifts uncomfortably.

“No, no, that's not it—I know.” You say hurriedly as you finally scrape together enough courage to look at him. “I just want… I feel better knowing how long you will be here. And how long you will be gone for.”

You pause for a moment, ears burning in embarrassment. “Because I'll be waiting for you.”

Bradley's face breaks into a smile. His cheeks are tinged red after your confession. “I like the idea of coming back to you.”

You smile back, the tension finally breaking. Bradley squeezes your hip.

“I'll be around until November.” He clarifies. So about six weeks, you calculate quickly. “I might fly out to Nevada for a week or so to see Mav, though.”

“You made up?” You sit up a little bit. Bradley hadn't really mentioned anything about Mitchell since the mission when he was still clearly very angry with him for pulling his papers from the academy.

“Yeah… I don't know.” Bradley hesitates. “Nearly dying together puts a different perspective on things.” His expression becomes guarded.

“And he's important to you.” You supply, kindly. Bradley just nods. His brow is furrowed like he's thinking of something unpleasant.

“He was around a lot when I was growing up.” He sounds distant. “But I didn't speak to him for almost… a decade before I returned to TOPGUN.”

He falls silent. You open your mouth to ask what happened but clamp your lips shut at the last moment. You like knowing things. Details. But you need to stop yourself from digging into things Bradley doesn't want to share. He will surely tell you when he is ready.

“Then it's probably a good thing you're going to visit,” You say instead, smiling slightly. “Sounds like you have plenty to catch up on after all that time.”

Bradley nods, still with an absent look in his eye.

“How long will you be gone from November?” You ask, changing the subject. His dark eyes focus back on you.

“About three months.”

Ah. So he'll be gone over Christmas and until after the New Year. Is that on purpose? You don't verbalize that realization, thinking it'll make you sound even more clingy than you already have. So you just nod in response.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” Bradley teases you. Pouting playfully, you nod again, more theatrically this time.

“Good, because I'd rather not spend the remaining time I have with my girl thinking about my next deployment.” He grins down at you mischievously. You squeal in delight, a Bradley pulls you on top of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are pretty sure there is a Bradley-shaped indent in your mattress. And one on your couch. Your whole apartment actually seems quite empty and quiet without him around.

Bradley left after lunch already, citing he needed a haircut before formation tomorrow and his laundry was overdue. He promised to come see you the next weekend.

An entire week away.

Groaning, you rub the heels of your hands against your eyes. He spent two-and-a-half days here. If that. You cannot already have grown so accustomed to his presence in your space. Normally you would have been itching for alone time by now, but now you just feel alone.

And you can't sleep.

God, you are pathetic.

You've written and deleted about seven messages in the last thirty minutes.

I miss you already. Ugh, that's so clingy.

I can't sleep. Like, what is he supposed to do about that?

Are you up? Holy shit, that makes you physically cringe.

Frustrated, you tap your phone against your forehead. Why is this so hard? Everything with Bradley comes so easily when he is around, and you are as per usual your own worst enemy. Why would Bradley not want to get a sweet message to let him know you're thinking about him? Sound reasoning.

Right?

“I've had an amazing weekend. Can't wait to see you again xx”

You hit send before you can change your mind. Groaning, you drop your phone on the mattress. So, so sad.

Back in Virginia Beach, Bradley's phone buzzes as he tosses and turns in his barracks bed. He can't find a comfortable position—the mattress is too hard, the bed too small, the room too barren. He misses the homeliness of your place, something he hasn't really thought of or yearned for in years, perfectly happy in the minimalism of barracks life. But the books strewn around the rooms, notes sticking out of them, the warm lights, even the piles of clean laundry— it's making him feel… homesick. Sighing, Bradley looks at the lit-up screen.

He smiles as he sees your name.

"hope the week goes quickly. the bed feels empty without you next to me"

Bradley pauses for a moment and grins, before adding:

"and get your car fixed"

You let out another groan as you see the message pop up. He's not wrong, but what a pragmatic twist to an otherwise romantic exchange. And it's not like your car has been broken for long—or that you had so much time to take care of it over the weekend. So you reply simply:

"I will."

Ding.

"do it before the weather turns"

Ugh. Yeah, yeah. A few seconds pass before another message appears.

"can't have my girl wait on the bus in the rain"

Okay, that kind of melts your heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you sit down at your desk that Monday morning, it feels like you have been moving around in a dream-like state. You barely notice the stares and whispers, almost floating through the hallways on a cloud. The whole weekend already feels so far away, like it happened in a different timeline, but Bradley has firmly nestled himself in your brain, always skirting around the edges of your thoughts.

You need to be at full capacity today. You actually need your brain not to be hazy with memories of him. His body. Against yours. Him whispering in your ear. His cologne still clinging to your pillow.

Oh god, can't you ever stop your brain? You need coffee. Lots of coffee. And you need to bury your phone in your bag, or you will spend your entire day looking at it like a love-sick puppy. You do kind of wonder what Bradley's day looks like and if he —oh Jesus Christ, enough already.

Starting up your computer, thumbing through the mail left on your desk from last week and sipping coffee, you settle back into the job you love. Ironically, your mind feels clearer than it has in months. Looking back, it was like a heavy blanket of snow was weighing down every thought—so cold and heavy it was numbing your core, blinding you, and painfully burning cold with every move. Now it finally feels like you've stepped into the sun again, the weight melting off you and clearing your vision.

You don't notice how time flies as you start working until there is a hesitant knock at your door. Looking up from the summary report you have been writing, Leanne cracks open the door and peeks in.

“Hi, what's up?” You greet, smiling slightly.

“There's uuh…” Leanne seems nervous. Strange. “…there's a lieutenant Seresin here to see you?”

What the fuck?

“Oh.” You pause for a moment, confused. “Send him in?”

You don't mean for it to sound like a question, but you cannot for the life of you understand why Seresin is coming to see you, and your mind is still stuck on parsing the situation.

Seresin casually breezes in past Leanne, who looks at him with eyes so big you think they might pop out of her skull. You have to admit, Seresin pulls off services khaki's particularly well. Where Bradley exudes confidence so easy it borders on arrogance knowing he commands the room with his presence—Seresin positively swaggers, reveling in the attention.

It comes with the territory for these hot shots you suppose, but god, such divas.

Seresin lets out a low whistle, looking around the room as the door clicks close behind him. You are half out of your chair to greet him, following his movements with slightly narrowed eyes. Your gut is telling you this is not a social call.

“And here I thought you were some sort of assistant fetching coffee, Miss Williams.” He says faux-impressed, purposefully not sparing you a look.

Have. Mercy.

“Oh don't you worry lieutenant, here people fetch coffee for me.” You retort with cheeriness so fake it sounds dissonant to your own ears. Clearly, Seresin is a massive ass sober or drunk— again, Bradley probably kind of had a point in ignoring him you think venoumsly. You sink back into your chair, not bothering with the politeness of standing.

He just grins at you as he makes his way to your desk, unceremoniously sitting down on it across from you.

“An office, degrees and everything - I'm starting to think Rooster is punching above his weight class.” He jokes looking around your desk.

Staring at him with an unimpressed expression, trying not to cringe as he pushes away your papers strewn on the desk.

“What can I do for you, lieutenant?” You start airily, using your well practiced customer service voice.

“So I spoke to that corporal today.” Seresin smirks. “Giving evidence, as you called it.”

“Be advised, you shouldn't tell me anything you discussed.” You interrupt him, voice still light and cheery. “The research is classified, and I don’t have clearance for it anymore.”

Looking up at him, you like to think you see his eyebrow twitch for a split second. Hah. Got him.

“I figured you'd be interested in what was said off the record, Miss Williams.”

That does indeed pique your interest. You regard Seresin with a guarded expression, waiting for him to continue.

“So it turns out, our mutual friend Riks,” He starts sarcastically as you can barely conceal the disgust passing over your features. “takes a special interest in what Rooster and you have been up to after hours.”

To your credit, you don't flush in embarrassment, but just roll your eyes. Riks still isn't letting this go.

“He's been on this fishing expedition for a while now.” You shrug.

“Why?” Seresin counters, harsher than you expect.

“Why?” You bite out, irritated. “Because he's a psychopathic cunt, looking to get ahead at any cost.”

“I can understand ambition.” Seresin narrows his eyes at you. “But digging into someone's sex life to find dirt is a bit too personal for regular workplace rivalries.”

You snort to cover up how embarrassed you are by Seresin’s comment. He is right, however. This whole situation has gone far beyond fighting for a promotion.

“Look—Rooster and I don't exactly see eye to eye on most things.” He sounds earnest now. You eye him carefully. “But he's one of us.”

And they stick together against outside forces and threats. That part goes unspoken. You do wonder where that puts you. Are you a threat?

“Riks has nothing.” You cannot conceal your exasperation. “If he did, he wouldn't be still fishing — with you no less, lieutenant.”

You cock an eyebrow at Seresin, trying to lighten the mood. “Unless you told him anything.”

“I'm not a fucking narc.” He actually looks offended. “Also, I don't generally keep tabs on every skirt Rooster charms his way up.”

Skirt? Fucking ew. You shake your head in disgust and sigh deeply. After last week’s blow up, you had hoped Riks would put his goose-chase to rest. Wasting your time and energy on this is the last thing you need, but you are also not going to let Riks get away with this. He can come after you all the wants, but for the love of all that’s holy, he needs to stay away from Bradley.

“Although…” Seresin suddenly trails off. You look up at him hesitantly. “It would be fucking hilarious if calculated and straight-laced lieutenant Bradshaw broke fraternization rules.”

He's staring you down now, like he's trying to read from your face if something happened before it was supposed to. You school your features to look as dispassionate as possible.

“What would be even funnier, is that it would make you the bad influence.” He gestures vaguely behind him as if to say that your office, your being, disqualifies you from being just that. Basically calling you boring.

“Like I’d tell you.” You shrug tersely, ears burning under your hair. While you might have kissed Bradley first, he's the one that came to your room that night that really ended up crossing the line. Seresin can fuck right off too, actually.

“I don't really care.” He cuts you off. You look up at him skeptically.

“I do care about not having some pencil pusher corporal on a personal vendetta come after one of us.” He cuts back, annoyed. “And where Rooster is concerend that would include you now.”

You blanch—eyebrows shooting up so high they probably hit your hairline.

“I- wha-” You don't even know what you are trying to say, stunned into forgetting how to speak. Heat is creeping up your neck. Seresin looks at you like you've lost your mind.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart?” He asks haughtily. You just shake your head—still trying to wrap your head around Seresin's words. He just pretty much designated you and Bradley as a couple, a serious one at that. Essentially, he, in his own arrogant way, welcomed you into the fold of whatever in-crowd he, Bradley, the other pilots, and their close ones formed. While surely your weekend wasn't a one-off, there is no… label. No decision made. Except what Seresin just bestowed on you.

Dramatically, he continues, putting his hand over his heart in a theatrical gesture: “Poor Rooster, notorious commitment phobic, has his head on swivel following your every move, orbits you all night, and you don't even notice.”

Sudden grin on his face, he concludes: “Or is that karma?”

You frown. Seresin’s behavior is about to give you a whiplash. And you really don’t want to be curious about the commitment comment, but you are fighting with yourself not to ask. That's Seresin trying to get a reaction out of you, surely.

“Oh please.” You wave your hand as if to dismiss the whole conversation. “Let's get back to the topic at hand. What did Riks ask you, exactly?”

The grin vanishes from his face. “Just if Rooster ever mentioned you, or I had ever seen you together.” He pauses. “Honestly, I'd make sure you close your blinds at night and lock your doors.”

You sink back further back into your seat, pressing your fingers against your lips as you think. Riks really has nothing, just as you suspected all along. He has never actually seen you together with Bradley and has no proof of you having contact outside strictly work-related matters. He has taken this too far, though. You are itching to see the reason he even summoned Seresin here, although there’s no chance you’d get access to that. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

You are going to put an end to this for once and for all.

“Thank you for your time, lieutenant Seresin.” Getting up from your chair, looking at him pointedly. Seresin looks surprised at your sudden change in attitude. “I will take it from here.”.

“Does Rooster know about this?” He suddenly inquires, tone serious as he gets up from your desk.

“I told him everything.” You reply honestly. That was a nice and embarrassing moment.

Seresin nods in approval, seemingly acquiesced. “Well, then I will leave you to it.”

“I will walk to you to the exit, lieutenant.” You offer politely as you walk past him and open the door. Seresin schools his features in a neutral expression as he walks out of your office.

“Where are you off to next, lieutenant Seresin?” You ask, making small talk.

“Back to base on Hawaiʻi, straight back into saddle.” He replies conversationally, a lot more polite than he has ever spoken to you before. “What about yourself, Miss Williams? Any new assignments coming up?”

“Nothing that will take me out of the Pentagon for time -” You trail off as you turn the corner of the corridor and come face to face with Riks. You almost stop dead in your tracks, but Seresin gives you a small push with his elbow, signaling you to keep walking.

“- for uhm - the time being.” You stumble over the end of your sentence, and you try to keep the pace. “How is Oahu this time of year, lieutenant?”

Riks doesn’t bother to conceal how angry he is. From the corner of your eye, you see his face contorts as you pass him, Seresin continuing undeterred in your conversation. You try to keep focus, the end of the corridor with the reception desk is now in sight.

Leanne is sitting at the reception, head down flipping through papers. As you step into the reception area, you extend your hand to Seresin.

“Have a safe flight back west, lieutenant Seresin.” Voice steady and polite, you extend your hand. “And thanks for making time for us here today, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

He grabs your hand to shake it, grinning. “Pleasure’s all mine, Miss Williams.” He suddenly turns his head. “Was there something you still needed, corporal?”

Leanne is flipping through her papers so hard now, it is clear she is doing anything she can not to look up. You envy her, wishing you had something to give you a good reason to not be part of this conversation anymore.

“No, lieutenant.” Riks grinds out, his eyes not leaving you.

“Ah, well, you followed us here, and now you’re lurking around,” Seresin starts. He is clearly trying to antagonize Riks. “Or is that normal in the army, corporal?”

Heavens above. Your eyes are about to roll into the back of your skull. You are going to throttle Seresin. But before Riks can answer and make the situation even worse—because that’s what you need after last week’s dressing down for another argument caused by another navy pilot—you cut in sternly:

“Thank you, lieutenant Seresin. I’m sure you have places to be.”

Seresin just grins at you as he turns to the elevator. You turn on your heel and start walking back. Eyes straight ahead. Don’t look at Riks. Don’t give him an inch. You are not going to talk to him. You are going straight to Birch’s office.

You leg it past Riks and Leanne. The noise behind you tell your Riks is following.

“Williams!” He barks out. You flinch at the harshness in this voice but don’t turn around. Don’t slow down, don’t speed up. Just walk. He won’t dare to actually do anything out in the open where anyone can see. He’s not that dumb.

“Why did he come see you?” Is that a tinge of panic in his voice? Whatever. Don’t acknowledge, don’t reply. You move past your office, hands balled into fists, as you walk to the end of the hall where Birch’s office is.

“Williams, what did you and Seresin talk about?” He sounds really panicked now. Good. A part of you wants to see the look on his face now, as it dawns on him how much he truly fucked up.

Reaching the door, hand ready to knock, you pause for a second. You impassively look Riks straight in the eye, and you rap your knuckles against the wood.

“You fucking bitch.” He grinds out, face drained of color.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, you collapse on your couch. Still no messages from Bradley. Playing with your phone, you fret over what to write him. You want to know how his day was, if he thought as much about you as you did about him, if he’s settled back in, if he gets butterflies like you when he receives a message… god. You are completely and hopelessly hooked on Bradley. It’s pathetic, but you haven’t felt this warm and fuzzy on the inside in forever.

Dragging yourself from the sofa, you make your way to the kitchen to start dinner.

Stirring the pot of pasta sauce, you have started and deleted a range of texts, not knowing what to say without sounding clingy. On top of that, you are unsure how to tell him that Seresin came to see you and what he told you. Sighing, you press the little microphone.

“Hey babe, how was your day?” You start hesitantly. “I had a crazy one. Seresin came to see me, can you believe that? He’s such a pain to deal with. Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you, but I’m cooking dinner, so texting is a bit difficult.”

You are rambling as you focus on cooking. You talk about the information Seresin gave you about Riks, how you went to see Birch after that, and how you heard his voice reverberate through the walls as he was yelling at Riks. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure that’s the end of it finally.” You conclude with a small smile.

The message is not obscenely long, just under two minutes. Without listening to it again, you send it and put your phone away, so you can drain the pasta.

When you settle back onto the couch with your plate in your hand, scrolling through a list of shows, your phone vibrates. Immediately dropping the remote, you grab your phone, where Bradley’s messages are coming in one after another.

“still at it sweetheart”

The short message is followed by a selfie from the gym—you are glad you’ve set your plate down already, or you would have surely dropped it. Bradley’s face half hidden by his phone, beads of sweat running down his temple and neck, sleeveless shirt half pulled up, flashing his abs in the mirror.

You swallow dryly, barely registering the messages that follow. Fuck. He so knows how good-looking he is.

“hearing your voice made my day”

And he so knows how to get to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] Ok, so yeah, I'm not dead, just very tired. This sat in my drafts for the past two weeks and I just needed to write the last part, but I've honestly been binging Ted Lasso and Reboot after I came back from my work trip(which was exhausting...) instead of writing. Do you have any good fic recs? Shoot them my way! Trying to get back into the groove with this now :)

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[pebblysand]

Omggg pebbles! That mia pov fic🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I'm so in love with how you've portrayed her. She's heart broken but she's gonna get better, I hope she does. It's so sad that she was so hurt because of harry especially when harry didn't mean to do so at any point. I wonder if harry actually thinks about her and regrets their relationship for actually hurting her. Also pebbles, how do you think ginny feels about mia at this point? Are ginny and harry sorry that they kissed when harry was in a relationship with mia?

Also at some point do you think harry and miss could ever be in touch? And what about her father? Will that dickhead ever come back to his senses and treat his gem of a daughter the way she deserves? Will they ever be in touch?

Istg i have soooo many questions about mia. Thanks for writing about her, I see so much of myself in her and i can't help but root for her ❤❤❤

aww thanks ❤️. you have a lot of questions about mia? that's good - i have a lot of thoughts, lol 😆 (for reference and for anyone who hasn't read it - Mia fic is here)

it's funny, i recently had a similar discussion with folks on discord about mia getting to her own version of the epilogue. i think people generally want me to say that she's okay in the same way that people want(ed) JKR (obv. pre-JKR becoming awful) to tell them that george was "okay." this sort of comfort of: we know they've been through a lot but they're okay, please-tell-me-they're-okay, you know? and i remember JKR was always a bit like "😬 is he, though?" realistically speaking? i think that's how i feel about mia too.

on discord, about her epilogue, i said:

i think her epilogue in my head is maybe a bit more… bittersweet than other people's epilogues. cause i think (and this is totally my headcanon, you can see it differently), she has a lot of good things coming out of this. she’s able to establish boundaries with her parents in a much healthier way, she learns to trust herself and stops being such a people pleaser, she learns that she doesn’t have to do everything alone, she has an amazing career - all those things made possible by her character evolution while she was with harry. but there’s this bittersweet aspect of: i think to her, he is and will always be the one that got away. and the kind of love story they had, at the age she was (20/21), those are the things that just stick with you, you know? and i don’t think she regrets anything she did/decisions she made, but there’s this aspect of: he’s the one she fell in love with, and he’ll probably always be the one she will compare other people she dates to. and that’s just… it, you know? and i don’t think she’s sad forever, i think she has fun and has a good life and maybe even finds another partner if she wants to, but harry is the one she's always going be talking to her therapist about. again, that’s okay, and i feel for her So Much, but i think it does sort of have this impact on her that never truly goes away.

i think to me, when it came to shaping mia's character, it was very important for her to have her own arc, too. of course, she existed in reaction to harry's storyline, and was going to help him realise some things about himself, but i also wanted her to be a person, and to grow in her own way.

at her core, mia is someone who is very lonely. when we meet her, she's in her last year of uni. she's away from home, in an environment that is not her own, and basically has no one who really cares about her. her mother is having a new family (new husband, new baby) and while she loves her, she's also replacing her. this is a detail in chapter 13 but mia doesn't even have a bed in their new house. her father is an absolute arsehole who tries to control her life after being absent for 17 years, and she doesn't really have friends. harry always says she has a lot of people around her, but they're school friends, acquaintances, going-out friends, not people she'd ever actually confide in. when she's starving herself trying to survive, no one notices. she says so herself in chapter 14:

‘You know no one else [cares], right?’ she says, then. Looks up to cross his gaze and takes his breath away. ‘Not my dad, not my mum, not my friends in school where I’m like,’ she speaks quick, rolling her eyes, ‘the token black girl with the funny accent from up North when their parents all know people - bloody Vivienne Westwood or something,’ she sighs. Her voice breaks. For the first time that morning, he hears tears in her words. ‘And, I don’t even hold it against them. They’ve all got objectively more important things than me to worry about. It’s just so fucking lonely sometimes.’ 

i think when i was building her character, i kept thinking about how lonely i felt during my first years in uni. mia isn't a self-insert in the way that i think we're very different people (god, i would have dumped his arse so much quicker), but that's definitely something i wanted to address in castles. in popular culture, we tend to romanticise our early twenties and uni years as the "best time of our lives," but the more i think back, and the more i talk to my friends now, as a grown-up, the more i realise that many of us have this very similar experience of deep loneliness and this feeling of being "lost" in the wild world of early adulthood. it's not just about mia's family, or her friends, or her doomed romantic relationship with harry. what makes her relatable, i think, is this general feeling of loneliness and inadequacy that we've all felt at some point in that time period of our lives. you're in uni, you're sitting there stressing about finding a job, a partner, what life is going to be like once you graduate. add to that that this period of your life is often where you get your first real relationships and heartbreaks, and it makes for a very hard time. and, it's terribly lonely because it's so romanticised that you can't even say it's hard, or that you're lonely, because This Is The Best Time of Your Life and #yolo.

and, with mia, you add to that the fact that she's broke af. like: she doesn't have money for food. in an environment where everyone around her has money. so, she doesn't want to admit how broke she is, doesn't want to ask for help because there is literally no one who would help her, but the financial stress is killing her. and, i think it's very important to consider that the money harry gives her isn't much to him, but to her - she later owes him her life and her career. the thing about financial precarity is, you can tell people to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" all you want, the staple of financial precarity is that you're one major expense away from a catastrophe. people are maintained in poverty because what is a small expense to someone with financial security (say: having to fix the lights on your car for instance) can throw someone else in a cycle of debt that they'll never get out of. the money harry gives her is just enough that she's able to get her head above water, and while he always says it's not about the money - to her, that makes a huge difference. because, she's not only one major expense away from a catastrophe, she's also one minor donation away from being able to live the life she dreams of. she - quite literally - owes him paris. she owes her career to him choosing to believe in her in that moment when it mattered. could she have done it without it? maybe. but there is a high chance that if he hadn't given her the money, she'd probably have drowned, given up and gone back to manchester and had a shit job she hated for the rest of her life. that is terribly important. she'll always be grateful to him for helping her out when no one else did.

and, i think the loneliness is also why she and harry connect on such a deep level, because when they meet, he is incredibly lonely too. not in the same relatable, muggle uni ways but: ginny's left, the "buzz" and the elation of the first couple of post-war months have lifted, the press is saying he's gone insane, it's winter, it's dark, wet. he says it himself when they first sleep together in chapter 5:

Mia dances close; Harry mostly watches, but at around three in the morning, they share another taxi home. The fact that they live in the same building could have been a good excuse, Harry thinks, except that by that point, they don’t really need one. He’s already kissed her, trailed his fingers up her thighs in the club (loud music, smoke; he managed to just smile and not think) so it’s not exactly a surprise when he follows her down the stairs to her flat instead of going up to his. He kind of hates himself for the thought but to be honest, it’s been over two months since he’s last had sex and well, she’s offering.

it's kind of tragic but being "there" and "offering" is most of her appeal, at that point in time. and, it's in reaction to those who aren't there and offering. and so, in those months, they bring each other so much. and of course, it grows into something that is much more than loneliness-bonding. again, to mia, harry is the one who shows her her father is an arsehole. he's the one who believes in her when no one else does. he shows her she can trust people. i think the fact that he insists he cares about her, and will always care about her, even when they're not together, means the world to her. she's never had anyone like that in her life. and, in a strange way, by being an - objectively - shitty boyfriend, he teaches her to stand up for herself. because, not only is she terribly lonely, she's also such a people-pleaser that she never pulls anyone up on their shitty behaviour. she doesn't resent her friends (see above), or her dad, or her mum. when harry says this in chapter 15, it really matters:

‘You’re brilliant,’ he just said, instead. His voice cracked and he felt tears clouding his vision, closed his eyes for a moment. ‘You deserve so much better than this.’ She looked down to her lap, then back up to him. ‘Better than him or better than you?’

the question is rhetorical here and they both know it. harry is important to her development as a character because at the end, he allows her to be like: yeah, i fucking deserve better than you people. for her, that's huge.

but then, in a strange way, i do think she's rather nostalgic about it. because i think she really did love him and just wishes things had gone differently. because again, he's the one person who cared about her when no one else did and that's hard to let go of. i think she - again - has very conflicted feelings about it, which do filter through in the paris fic.

that said, to answer your question (I wonder if harry actually thinks about her and regrets their relationship for actually hurting her): yes, he does. i think that's part of his character evolution too. he knows he Fucked Up and it sucks. he feels very guilty about it. that's why he agrees to be the 'bad guy' in the end, when she basically asks him to break up with her because she can't, and then does it in the most godawful way. he takes responsibility for his behaviour, which is also very important to his character arc. it's very hard to navigate your late teens/early twenties without hurting someone without meaning to. what matters is how you react and own up to it. he struggles, acts like a complete douchebag, but in the end, he owns it. he gives her the story she needs to move on and be like: yes, he cared about me, but he was also an arsehole. he gives her that:

She met a boy who slept with her on and off for eight months and broke her heart, dumped her after sex and punched her father in the face. It's not a lie.

in a very strange way, that's an act of love and care too. it might not be enough for her to completely get over him or forget him, but it does allow her to have mixed feelings and hang onto the fact that she deserves better, which is already a lot.

but yeah, of course he feels guilty. he even says so himself in 15 & 16:

(xv) They talk about Mia, that night. Not that he brings it up, but in light of what Gwenog Jones said, he actually asks if she regrets the dating and the going out. There is no judgement in his voice, he’s just curious, and she says: ‘I don’t know, it’s complicated.’ She asks if he regrets Mia and he wants to laugh - same, yeah. He wonders if perhaps, these were the mistakes they needed to make.

(xvi) It’s a fair question, of course. How he feels about Mia. A couple months have passed. Water, bridges and all that. ‘Still a bit guilty, I think,’ he admits. Winces. ‘You?’ ‘Still a bit jealous, I think.’

so, yeah, regarding how ginny feels: of course, she feels a bit jealous. because she knows that he loved mia and cared about her. and, ginny herself slept around, sure, but love wasn't part of the equation. if you remember, she tried to date someone (early on - from october to january of '98) who she did like (but not yet love) and even told harry about, but then that blew up in her face so spectacularly that feelings never really crystallised. (sidenote: i actually think the matt incident probably had even more of an impact on her than sleeping around because this was the first person she ever put her trust in that wasn't harry (post-amycus) and he dumped her in an extraordinarily dickish way (blamed her for the press, which she couldn't control) and that is also what triggered her to be like: fuck this, they say i'm a slut, might as well be one sort of attitude --- but i digress).

it was really important for me that they both have pasts and insecurities about their respective pasts because -- well, that's part of any relationship, isn't it? like, you should never let it eat you up, but it's normal to feel a bit awkward and insecure about your partner's past at the start of the relationship. and, also about yourself. you really want this to work and not fuck it up. so, like: harry feels shitty about treating mia like shit because he didn't mean to. he feels a bit insecure about the fact that ginny's been with a lot of people before him, and doesn't want to admit it. he feels insecure about whether or not she loves him because she's dumped him once before and, well. she feels insecure because everyone thinks she's a slut and she worries he does too. she feels insecure about the fact that he used to love someone else.

but, the important part is: they talk about it. and, that's how they grow and act adult, and that is what matters. the insecurities are obviously there, but they chat and reassure each other and that's what grown-ups do. it even comes up during the sex in 16 and i love how they deal with it:

‘Merlin, that was -’ she laughs. He laughs, too. ‘Much better than last summer,’ she adds.  He’s got this stupid, self-satisfied, Cheshire cat smile across his face when she finally turns to look at him, so large it’s probably rather obscene, and a stupid (stupidstupid) thought suddenly hits his brain: I’ve had time to practice. He doesn’t say it, but she must bloody read it in his eyes because suddenly, a flash of recognition washes over and he wants to say something - anything - to take back that cringey, gauche thing he hasn’t even fucking said, and he wants to disappear deep - far - into the ground. He thinks back to their conversation at the restaurant, and: ‘Still a bit jealous, I think,’ - it makes his skin crawl. Now, though, Ginny laughs. At him, mostly. ‘Harry,’ she says. ‘Harry, look at me.’  Reluctantly, he does. ‘It’s fine,’ she whispers. ‘Just kiss me.’

there's acceptance there, and love, and trust, and that's what matters.

to anwer your other question: Are ginny and harry sorry that they kissed when harry was in a relationship with mia?

honestly, no, i don't think so, though. i think the kiss is the least of it. it's not about one kiss. it's about Everything Else, really.

regarding mia herself, she might make a cameo at a later date. not saying more. but i don't think she'll come back regularly. she needs to be away from him. she says so herself but this isn't the kind of break up where they can stay friends. it would kill her.

lastly, regarding her father (And what about her father? Will that dickhead ever come back to his senses and treat his gem of a daughter the way she deserves?): i headcanon she goes no-contact with him. you can of course hc different things but imo, that's one toxic relationship she lets go of. she knows harry was right there, and i think she's thankful to him for showing that to her, too.

so, in sum: i think mia moves on. i think she has a great life. i also think her love story and harry are always somewhere in her mind. like everything in castles, it's complicated.

[dufrau]

hopping in to say i’m a fan of your fics, you’re a great writer. i love your detail work and how fleshed out the characters always feel.

i thought i may as well do the ask game while i’m here, i was thinking 4, 21, and 25 on either when you need a train or nantasket, dealer’s choice.

keep up the good work :)

(p.s. always love your cat posts, big fan of eddie spaghetti)

Aww thank you so much, this is so nice! I will send your regards to Mr. Spaghetti when he wakes up (he is passed out on the coffee table.)

4. If the fic required it, what did you research in order to write it?

For Nantasket I didn't research anything because I went to that beach a lot growing up and I know it very well (i dont live there though, dont worry. this is not a self doxx a lot of people have been to that beach 😂)

For When You Need a Train I did, like, the minimum required research on railroads in Indiana. I just didn't want to name a train that definitely wouldn't have passed through there etc. Also I looked up when the hole in the ozone layer was discovered and how long a passenger train trip from Indianapolis to Boston takes.

21. Did the fic end up shorter or longer than you had planned?

I think both of these fics wound up about as long as I expected them to be. Let me check.

Okay I lied actually. Nantasket is as long as I thought it would be but When You Need A Train turned out a little longer. I think I expected it to be around 9k, it ended up at 11k. I originally planned the last chapter to be just a tiny little epilogue taking place at Boylston station in Boston where Nancy would find Robin waiting for a train back to their apartment but the train would be delayed because the Green line is always delayed and then they would walk home together. But it didn't really work so I wound up with a longer, better last chapter.

25. Favorite lines: Answered!

(questions)

[professorspork]

Any chance you'd actually want to do a breakdown of the writing and literary techniques you used in Newsbees? Any excerpt of your choice honestly, I'm always curious about how other writers think about their own work

A) I just want to say that what truly delights me is that this hit my inbox last night, a full 12 hours before the epilogue was posted (and contained within it a request for asks just like this). Way to read my mind! It made me happy!

B) Oh gosh this is so broad WHAT SHOULD I TALK ABOUT

okay after much dithering, using an online dice-rolling tool to pick a chapter to talk about and then being like 'this tool didn't pick the right chapter' I am going to talk about chapter 12, aka the romance novel bed-sharing one right before everything goes to shit.

Before we begin, you'll note that I still insist on calling a wolf at your door chapter 12 even though on AO3 it's chapter 13. I get why for coding reasons AO3 probably can't support calling a prologue "chapter zero" because something like 0/21+ is not a helpful chapter count in the same way 1/23 is but still the discrepancy chafes and I'm glad people have mostly indulged me on this point.

ANYWAY

Firstly, I'll point out that the chapter bears all of the usual hallmarks of what I know defines my prose and which I lean into with some degree of purpose. To pick a portion from the section on Blake's panic attack as an example:

She sinks shakily to the tile and curls into a ball to cry. After hours of gripping onto what remained of her sense with white-knuckled desperation, forcing herself to at least dissociate long enough to find a place to get out of the storm, she can’t fight it any more. Every single emotion she’s been barely keeping at bay—the powerlessness, the fear, the self-hatred, the sorrow—crashes through her all at once, bulldozing the fragile internal structures she’d relied upon to stay upright until there’s nothing inside her but splinters and wreckage.

It’s over. It’s over.

Gods, why won’t she fucking stop crying?

She bites down on her fist—anything to quiet the violent, hiccuping sobs that are wracking her lungs and depriving her of much-needed air—but it’s no use. You’ll wake everyone up, shut up, shut up, you stupid, sloppy bitch shut up.

Inane. Infantile.

Pathetic.

She has no idea how long she stays there, blubbering on the shower floor like a toddler. Time stretches like taffy, malleable and meaningless. She weeps until she’s empty; until even the derogatory, incisive shame is gone and only her hollow husk is left. And then…

…ever so slowly…

…cognizance creeps back in.

Apparently, she’s shivering.

The air in Yang’s apartment, which had felt near-stifling upon Blake’s arrival, is now crisp and biting against her clammy skin.

Gee, can you tell I like alliteration? In just this singular 226-word excerpt, there are eight uses of it (sinks/shakily; stupid/sloppy; inane/infantile; time/taffy; malleable/meaningless; hollow/husk; cognizance/creeps; crisp/clammy)-- and that number goes up, even, if you count incidental usage like 'with white-knuckled' or 'been barely.'

As I've matured as a writer I've shied away from prose that's florid just for prettiness' sake, but I do still indulge in this sort of... lyrical, tone-poem narration, especially in moments of great introspection or emotional import, as Blake's breakdown certainly is. All my writing-- not just dialogue-- is something I both hear and listen for, and the cadence and rhythm of the sentences is something I will tweak over and over and over again throughout the editing process until I'm satisfied with its flows and eddies. This is why I'll often use entirely unnecessary em-dashes to indicate breaths and pauses; to me, that sort of mouthfeel of the phrasing is just as important as the vocabulary is. Alliteration is a great way to get at that sort of smooth, elevated and heightened affect without being too conspicuous; my hope is that no one actually noticed "jesus christ there are eight alliterative pairs in this one half-page's worth of writing" until I pointed it out. It's... a flavor, a seasoning, that provides a bit of lift.

This excerpt also provides a few examples of another favorite thing of mine, which is pairing TWO adjectives for specificity's sake (and that sort of breathing meter). Blake's sobs could have been violent or hiccuping instead of both, but using both gives their brutality and physical embodiment emphasis; time being both malleable and meaningless shows two different facets of the sort of warping she's experiencing; her shame being both derogatory and incisive gets at how it hits both emotionally/verbally and internally/physically. (That's twice there I've said how I want the words to feel physical, to put you in Blake's shoes, and that's also very much a hallmark of my writing and this work specifically. There's a reason Blake throws up or nearly throws up so many times in this story, including in this chapter. I wanted her anxiety to feel LIVED IN, this toxic thing that her body literally has to reject and expel any way it can.)

The last thing this excerpt has that I want to remark upon is an incredibly considered simile-- how Blake's panic attack "crashes through her all at once, bulldozing the fragile internal structures she’d relied upon to stay upright until there’s nothing inside her but splinters and wreckage." I think it's always a worthwhile project to come up with metaphors that haven't been used a thousand times, because readers deserve novelty and forethought, but I really considered how I wanted to portray her feelings here. In other chapters, I compare Blake's panic/trauma to a treacherous ocean filled with dangerous creatures, or to a runaway train; Yang, of course, gets her big moment where she feels like a volcano. All of these things are scary and unpleasant, but they are so in radically different ways. Whereas the ocean metaphor is sort of all about depth and playing the long game, getting dragged under and the process of erosion, I wanted this one to be sudden and impactful. The first thing I came up with was a tornado, but that a) felt a little tired to me and b) still came from the natural world, which didn't feel quite right. The sort of manmade, architectural language I ended up going with reinforced far better the point I was making: that Blake built and constructed her sense of calm purposefully, and it was now being torn down by someone else's violent efforts.

PHEW okay I think that's enough talking about that one small section.

Overall, the chapter also contains a lot of the sorts of tricks and modes I relied on throughout the fic-- playing around with time, explicitly referencing callbacks to earlier in the story, the Adam that lives in Blake's head. This chapter is also, of course, the debut of The Font, which was really fun for me. Blake falling asleep instantly in Yang's bed after two dozen chapters of how bad her insomnia is was a payoff that had been in the outline from the earliest stages. The Hug is both important in its own right but also a reference to yet another musical, Waitress ("I hope someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight..."). Seeing as this is a Newsies adaptation, I wanted it to feel in many ways LIKE A MUSICAL-- to have those big, bold feelings-- but the one thing Newsies isn't is a romance, and I found myself thinking often of love songs from other shows to sort of fill in those gaps. That could honestly be its own post so I won't get into it more now, lol.

OKAY MY GOODNESS THIS IS GETTING LONG I'M GONNA CUT IT OFF THERE. But I hope that was interesting for folks, and if so PLEASE ASK ME MORE QUESTIONS I LOVE QUESTIONS.

[rwbyremnants]

This is the epilogue! It's been a long, strange trip, but I finally completed this one! I'm going to get a bit sentimental and long-winded about Rooster Teeth under the cut, but (so you can skip it: just CTRL+F and search for "Chapter 60") up here I'll just say thanks so much for reading. I hope you like these last few surprises!

WARNING: ROOSTER TEETH RAMBLING. You don't have to read this, it's not about Princess And The Dragons! You have been warned.

So as everybody probably knows by now, Rooster Teeth is on death row, and the fate of RWBY is totally up in the air. If you're learning about it this way… I'm very sorry; here's an article with more details. TL:DR, Warner Bros Discovery swallowed their parent company a while back, and that led to some cool collabs like Justice League x RWBY, but…

I'll keep this rant brief. David Zaslav is a callous corporate jerk that hates art, and has no business being in charge of a content creation company when all he cares about is money. His body count is rising (Batgirl, Final Space, Adult Swim Games, etc), and I hope he generates enough hate that he gets fired and never finds work in his field again. That is all.

Anyway, because RT couldn't turn a profit in the 1.5 years since they became part of WBD, they're getting shut down in a couple months, and they're going to try to shop its various properties around to other companies. Crunchyroll is a good candidate for RWBY, since they already aired volume 9, but nothing is certain yet at all. It's entirely possible we will never see a volume 10 - or it might be in some other format, like a comic book. All we can do is wait and see.

I found RWBY through a friend in 2014, which led me to RT as a whole. It's one of several things that changed my life that year - most of them for the better. I spent a lot of time with Achievement Hunter and Rage Quit videos, the RT Podcast and Always Open… went to see Lazer Team (and RWBY volume debuts) in actual theaters. I wish I had been able to make it to RTX, but it was too far away for me to be able to get there. At one point, it was a pretty huge part of my life. Then, like with most things, I sort of gravitated away, though I kept going back for the podcasts, and kept up with RWBY of course.

But I knew RT might not last that much longer when it was announced that Always Open was cancelled for a second time, and that RWBY Volume 10 still wasn't even greenlit. There were too many controversies (we don't have to get into those). Some of the founders were already gone, I hardly ever saw the people I was most fond of onscreen. For the first time in almost a decade, I cancelled my First membership, because it felt like my favorite content wasn't coming to the platform anymore… and I'm broke. I feel a little bad, of course, but I think we all kind of knew that they might not survive the changing landscape of streaming content. The minute they became part of WBD, their lack of profitability spelled the end.

Sorry, I'm all in my feelings about it, and I don't want to make the comments or the end of this fic all about RT, but I felt like I couldn't post a new chapter of a RWBY fic without at least addressing the situation, and giving my own history and perspective on it. This is just the state of the fandom, and I'm really sad and depressed about it, and wishing that something could have been done. But at the end of the day, it's actually pretty amazing that a bunch of drunk guys created a company in their bedroom that lasted 21 years and gave us a hundred shows. Just sucks it had to end because of mergers and nonsense, but I guess nothing lasts forever.

Thanks for listening, if you did; no shade if you didn't. I'm just really going to miss those guys and that content-creation family always being there to provide amusing and comforting content, like friends you could hang out with whenever you wanted. Thanks for all the memories, RT, and for being one of my safe spaces when I needed one.

-NBW

----------------------------------------------------

=Chapter 60

  Weiss Schnee took a deep breath, eyes closing as she let the aromas of roasting turkey and gravy fill her nostrils. This was always her favourite part about Thanksgiving. Sure, pumpkin pie and potatoes were wonderful dishes, but the centerpiece was the artfully-prepared bird, without a doubt.

Especially with Kali cooking it this year. Their chef had been lost in the family scuffles, and it made no financial sense to hire another when they could all learn to pitch in a little more instead.

Besides, Willow seemed to have turned over a new leaf. Since she had no head for business, she allowed the interim director to stay on and only asked for updates from him once a week – with Kali in attendance, naturally. That was enough to ensure that nothing unscrupulous was going on beneath her nose. Meanwhile, that left Weiss's mother with little else to do besides taking care of house and home… which suited her in a way Weiss never would have expected. Though it had begun as penance for years of absentee parenting, now it was more like a calling. A place she felt she belonged.

“Ready to head down?”

The princess leaned a little more fully against Yang as they lounged in their bed. Their bed… even this many weeks later, it still sounded strange to think of it that way. “Just about ready.”

“Why?” she insisted with a fierce grin, a hand drifting up to turn Weiss’s face up to look at her. “Careful, Schnee, or I’ll think you caught… Xiao Long Madness.”

“Xiao Long Madness?” Her hand pressed into the center of her chest as she heaved a theatrical gasp. “What on earth could that be?”

“Well… it starts out slow.” Two fingers began to tiptoe up along her thigh. “You don’t even know you’ve got it until it’s creeping up on you.” The hand smoothed along her stomach through the soft material of her party dress, and Weiss had to suppress a shiver. “Makes you a little tingly, breathe faster… heart beating louder and louder…”

“Yang, you little…” Pushing her hand away with a giggle once it reached her breast, she admonished her, “We have to get to the table! Without messing up our clothes! Just grab those earth pads so we can join the others.”

Chuckling with her, the Dragon turned and got up from the bed, snatching up two pairs of shoes from the floor. “Alright, alright. Even though both our parents know? What, they’re going to be shocked that we got a little frisky today, too?”

“That isn’t the point! I want to be presentable for our families, and the Belladonnas!” Her brief indignation subsided as Yang started lovingly putting her heels on. “Oh… I know, I’m being silly. But can we please have a lovely, respectable family dinner? Just this once, for the holiday?”

“Of course,” she promised with an earnest tone, smiling up at her before she kissed Weiss’s other foot. “Princess Toes.” Then she slid the other heel on and grabbed for her own – but Weiss snatched them away. “Hey, what gives? I mean, you actually got me into a dress and now you’re trying to keep me from-”

“Shush.” Weiss returned the favour, sliding the very un-Yang-like heels on while Yang’s cheeks went the tiniest bit pink. They always did when she was doted on since it was such an uncommon occurrence for the bruiser; Weiss adored that. And she adored being the only one trusted to be sweet to her in that way.

“Mkay, Weiss. Now I’m all dolled up for you. Like a pig wearing lipstick.”

Sighing, she swatted Yang on the arm. “Don’t be stupid. You are a beautiful woman. Being strong as an ox doesn’t change that.”

“If you see me that way, then that’s all that matters.” They shared a brief kiss, humming against each other’s lips before they broke apart and stood. “Let’s go strap the ol’ feedbag on.”

“How charming,” she deadpanned.

As they walked past Weiss’s dresser, she glanced at the framed photograph on the wall. There they were: the Dragons. Every last living member, with the youngest arranged in the front. Even if it was a little incriminating, she had decided in the end that it was much more important to the little gangster princess to have this memento than it was to “play it safe” - especially now that the only Vale citizen who would have thrown a tantrum about its existence was long dead.

Emerald and Cinder with their arms around each other. Ilia hanging off Blake despite how she was rolling her eyes. A grinning Coco who still had Velvet on her arm instead of lost to another continent – the picture had been taken with her camera, after all, set on a timer. Even Salem was smiling, albeit in an irritated and resigned way. Happiness in a wooden frame.

“You coming?” Yang asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed as she tripped after her girlfriend into the hall. “Hold your horses.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my snooty girlfriend?”

“HEY!”

Downstairs, Blake, Ilia, and Whitley were all seated in the living room, chatting politely about the weather and other surface topics. Though her brother wasn’t thrilled terribly to know the Dragons, he had seemed to accept it – and to accept them as humans rather than foul beasts that were beneath him.

“Hey, good lookin’,” Blake bade her.

“Good evening.” Weiss actually curtsied, and Ilia giggled. “I'm excited. Is that silly?”

“Maybe a little. But I think we're allowed to be a little silly after the Autumn we've had.”

True enough. Weiss flashed a tight smile before she turned toward the kitchen.

“Watch that gravy!”

Raven's hands quickly moved toward the stove while Kali hastily crimped the edges of her pie. The latter was poised and pristine; the former, a sweating nervous wreck. But she was trying. Most of the dishes were already arranged on the counter, kept warm by potholders and waiting to be served.

“Oh my God,” Yang muttered in Weiss's ear. “Where's Rod Serling? Because I think we just entered The Twilight Zone.”

“The what?”

“Oh, it's a new show. Don't worry about it. Just meant watching Raven really cook is like science fiction.”

Meanwhile, Willow at last noticed they were standing there and waved them over to the dining room. “Hey, girls! Come help me set the table.”

They did as they were told. Mrs. Schnee was humming and cheerful, eyes full of light as she made sure all the silverware was properly placed, each napkin neatly folded.

“You're really excited, aren't you, Mother?”

“Ohhhh yes,” she told her immediately, grinning from ear to ear. “Very! It's our first big dinner with everyone together, isn't it? Our ragtag little family. And it already feels more like…”

When she didn't finish, Yang prompted, “Like?”

“Like a real Thanksgiving. Far more than the past few years.”

“I know what you mean,” Weiss said as she placed the last few forks. “You weren't yourself, and Father was… well.”

But Willow brushed it off with an elegant hand. Still no calluses forming from her sudden uptick of housework, but they would, eventually, if she didn't keep up conditioning them. Pampering herself. Honestly, Weiss had no idea if she would go one way or the other.

“All in the past. We're starting fresh, aren't we, Weiss?”

“We sure are,” she said immediately, beaming back at her mother. Proud of her progress and new outlook on life. “Annnnd… I think the table’s ready. What's next?”

“Not much.” A bell sounded throughout the house, and her eyes lifted. “Oh, could you see who that is? I think I should help Raven and Kali.”

Her daughter obeyed, moving through the living room where Whitley was just standing. She waved him back down and pulled the door wide.

And found herself face to face with such a haggard, unenthused face that she instinctively took a step back. The man's ominous eyes almost looked through her. Her fight or flight instincts were starting to kick in, but she knew she shouldn’t literally attack someone who had done nothing more than come to her front door – not without further provocation.

“U-um…”

“Hey!” From around his back popped Ruby's cheery face, and she added a little wave. “Sorry we're so late; Grumpy Gus didn't wanna get ready.”

“I was ready,” Qrow growled as he pushed past Weiss without a word of greeting. “You didn't like what I was wearing.”

With a dramatic sigh, Ruby followed, stopping to hug Weiss. Penny was close on her heels, freckles seeming to glow with excitement as she hefted a casserole dish. Yang was next in line for hugs while Qrow seemed magnetically drawn to the wetbar in the corner.

“U-um!” came from the door as Weiss tried to close it. Pulling it wide revealed a very flustered neighbour. “Hello again!”

“Pyrrha?! What are you doing here? I thought you would be sitting down with your folks right about now!”

The athlete shrugged, cheeks rosy as she fidgeted in her lovely golden-hued frock. There was clearly an internal struggle playing out behind her bright green eyes, which remained mostly pointed down at her black pumps. “Well… I just wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving! Before we all dig in! So… so now I have! And, well, bye!”

However, as she turned to stride down the steps and away from the house, Weiss jogged after her. “Wait!”

“Yes?” she asked as she turned.

“There's something else, isn't there?” No immediate answer. “Come on. What's a best friend for if she can't help a girl through thick and thin?”

After a brief internal debate, the redhead let out a long sigh. “Jaune is coming to dinner.”

“Really? That's fantastic news!” Again, Pyrrha hesitated, so Weiss asked, “It's… not fantastic news?”

“Well… ordinarily, yes. But Cinder and Emerald are already there.”

“WHAT?!”

“SHHHH!” she hissed at her friend, green eyes wide. “I didn't think I would get as close to him as I have since the dance, and… I had already invited them before he asked me to homecoming! Then I forgot, and they showed up with a whole ham, and it would have been so rude to turn them away…”

Weiss laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Relax, okay? I'm sure everything will be fine.”

“But you know how Cinder is around boys! She hates them! And I know she has good reason, but Jaune is very important to me, and… and I don't want anyone to have an unhappy holiday thanks to me!”

“They won't. I promise. You are the nicest host, and the sweetest friend. And Emerald and Cinder have each other now; they're much less bitter and unhappy.”

“Oh… I know you're right. Thank you. And I shouldn't get flustered every time they try to kiss me anymore, I- I have to get used to that eventually, don't I?”

“Of course!” she chirruped with a patient smile. “Just keep rebuffing those advances; they will get the message.”

At those words, her childhood friend fell silent. Seconds ticked by while she squirmed. Then she whispered, “It may be too late for that plan.”

“What? I mean… what do you mean?”

“Well, if I were to rebuff their advances, I probably shouldn't have let Cinder steal a little kiss at homecoming.” When her fellow paper-shaker only gaped, the red-faced track star’s face grew yet redder. “Or behind the malt shop last weekend. Or just before I walked over here.”

“PYRRHA NIKOS!”

“I'm sorry! I told you, she makes me feel… swept away,” she breathed with a shy smile. “Even though I'm more attracted to Jaune, like him more and get along with him so well, I don't dislike Cinder… and she's strong, and confident, and beautiful…”

A laughing Weiss reassured her, “You don't have to explain anything to me. I have my own similar arrangement with a blonde and a brunette, so why on Earth would I throw stones in my glass house?”

“But what do I do? Poor Jaune has no idea women go around with other women as much as we do – a-and what about Emerald? Ordinarily I would be concerned about her feeling jealous, but she watches Cinder tease me – encourages it! That seems so dirty, and that's without the things they threaten to do to me if I let them!”

“Holy moley,” she breathed. “Pyrrha! You're a Dragon in sheep's clothing!”

That smile was still shy, but also a little excited. “Am not. But the kissing is… women's lips are so soft!”

“Aren't they?” Both girls sighed dreamily, then giggled. “Your secret is safe with me, but I think the sooner you explain all this to Jaune, the less bad it will be in the long run.”

“You… are probably right. But not now. I don't want to ruin the holiday for my parents.”

“Of course. You should probably get back.” As Pyrrha nodded, she tilted her head and asked, “What did you tell them about Cinder and Emerald, anyway?”

“Just that they're new friends of yours, and mine. And that they had no family to dine with. It's true, after all.”

Weiss nodded sagely. “And you wanted them to have a big slice of Pyrrha pie for dessert.”

“Mmhmm! I thought it would be… very- oh, you're so mean to me!”

“Maybe,” she cackled, leaning closer. “Or maybe I'm jealous because I want some for myself.”

And without waiting for a response, Weiss gave her a quick peck on the lips. Just a fun little tease without any deeper meaning behind it. Pyrrha was too startled to respond until Weiss's impish grin began to slip a notch – and then she laughed, loudly and freely.

“Oh Weiss! I think we both have our hands full enough as it is! But… thank you. For more than just now, for so, so much.”

Curtsying playfully, she giggled, “And thank you, madam. It is Thanksgiving, after all; we should be expressing our gratitude.”

“True!” As she skipped away, Pyrrha sang out over her shoulder, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“You too, best friend!”

When she re-entered the living room, it was to a highly stressful scene. Qrow and Raven were seated one each upon the armchair and the couch, ranged across from each other, and if ever the phrase “glaring daggers” applied, it would be to those two siblings.

“You look good, sis,” he rumbled with a poisonous smirk. “Really got some color in your cheeks for once. What's your secret?”

“Staying away from things that are hazardous to my health. Like you.”

“Wow,” Penny breathed from Ruby's side, as surprised as anyone at how venomous they were toward each other. From her, Weiss glanced around at the various uncomfortable guests and eventually spotted Yang standing in the doorway of the kitchen, indecisive.

“Ooooh, temper temper. Still haven't figured out that's what made Taiyang ditch you, huh?” When Raven started to sit forward as if she would attack, he raised up both hands, palms out. “Easy now. Didn't come here to pick a fight, just came to eat.”

Teeth clenched hard enough to grind corn into meal, she hissed at him, “Funny way of showing it. Then again, you never did know when to quit.”

“Seems to me like I knew exactly when to quit. Before the Dragons turned into the Bulldyk-”

“Who would like a drink?” Weiss called out in a voice far too high to be natural. A few of her peers turned in her direction, but Raven and Qrow didn't budge at all. “Anyone?”

“May I have a lemonade?” Penny said in her usual oblivious-but-pleasant tone.

“Alright, look,” Yang finally sighed as she walked a little deeper into the room. “You guys hate each other; we get it. But it's Thanksgiving, and there are more people here than just you two chowderheads. So can we just… put that on the back burner until tomorrow? Please?”

Silence reigned for a long few seconds. Then Qrow heaved himself to his feet. “Think I'll take you up on that drink, Schnee.” He returned to the wet bar to refill his glass. Luckily, it seemed like the breaking of their staring contest gave Raven the right to let herself relax, and she ran her hand over her hair.

“Are they always like this?” Ilia asked in a soft murmur, mostly to Blake.

“Raven, yes. I have no idea about him, I haven't seen him more than once in my whole life before now.”

Before Ilia could form a response, an “Ahem” came from the doorway leading into the dining room. Kali stood there with a polite smile on her face, hands clasped in front of her stomach; the picture of a polite hostess.

“I believe dinner is served. If you will all come through and seat yourselves, we would love to begin.”

Raven was the first to exit, seemingly to give herself at least a few scant seconds without her brother in the same room. Then her daughter followed soon afterward, and everyone else stood and began to follow the others.

“Wheeee,” Ruby deadpanned as she led Penny inside.

The spread look amazing. Kali had definitely outdone herself, and somehow Willow and Raven had not ruined all her good work with their awkward attempts to help. Turkey, dressing, casserole, fresh hot buns, and gleaming red cranberry sauce were already weighing down the table. Weiss's beaming mother stood behind the chair at the head of the table, waiting for the others to sit before she seated herself.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said in a quiet, nervously excited voice. “I know this will probably be strange, as some of you hardly even know who I am, much less have met me. But I'm happy to meet you all and welcome you to my home.”

“I am happy to be here,” Penny replied brightly as if she were being directly addressed. But Willow only smiled right back at her, and the girl grinned from ear-to-ear.

“Before we dig in, I'd like us all to go around the table and say something we are thankful for from this past year.” One or two groans sounded from the guests, but most of them were polite enough to keep their desire to eat right away to themselves. “Would anyone like to start?”

As she brought in a dish of beans, Kali said, “Go on, Willow dear. Set us an example.”

“Oh, very well.” As Whitley sat at her left, Weiss at her right, she composed herself for a moment. “I’m thankful for my family. My real family – everyone here, even if some of us are just meeting tonight. And that my eyes are open enough for me to appreciate that now.”

After a moment or two of silence, a few people nodding along, she turned to Whitley. Starting, he said, “Ah. Well, I suppose I’m thankful that all the nastiness is behind us. This year has been unpleasant but… well, looking around here, I must admit we’re coming out the other side.”

As Penny clapped for him, and a few others stifled laughter at her clapping, Kali spoke up, “I’m thankful for a certain little princess for bringing us all together. If not for her, this might have been an easier year, but a lot less interesting.” And she raised her water glass to Weiss, who waved her off – despite her cheeks tinting pink.

“Same here,” Blake agreed with a big smile. “She really shook things up in the best of ways. Still a little weird that I get to be friends with her. But thanks, Weiss.”

“And you could probably guess I’m going to say thanks for helping me finally get Blake’s attention,” Ilia sighed resignedly as the others chuckled. Hands were definitely being held under the table, and Weiss had a hard time not squealing with secondhand glee. Then they all turned to look at Qrow.

“Huh? Oh, uh… skip me.”

Ruby nudged him hard. “No skipping!”

“Fine. I’m thankful for this dumb squirt.” He ruffled her hair aggressively, and she laughed – even if she was hastily patting her hair back into place right afterward. “That A-okay, kiddo?”

“Sure.” Then she cleared her throat and said, “I’m grateful for… well, a lotta stuff. But I can’t pick between the two big things: Penny asking me out, and…” Her eyes began to water. “And getting my sister back. They’re b-both pretty outta sight.”

“Nah, you should pick Penny,” Yang said with a wistful smile. “I ain’t that special.”

“Don’t say that! You’re my sister and you’re amazing!”

“Okay, okay,” Raven interrupted them with a sigh. “Break up the happy-fight, girls. Let’s hurry this along so we can all eat. Penny?”

Blinking her huge green eyes, the freckle-faced girl chirruped, “Oh! Well, I am thankful for Ruby, of course. And her family – which seems to be all of you! And for the food we are about to eat. Amen.”

“Amen,” Whitley muttered automatically, even though everyone else was blinking in confusion. Weiss wasn’t sure at which point Penny’s thanks had turned into grace, but it was even stranger to call attention to it. So no one did.

“And I’m thankful for Yang putting up with me,” Raven said simply. “Go on.”

But Yang wasn’t about to let that slip past. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“My attitude. I’ve…” Her sigh was weary, her glare burning a hole into the table. “I’ve been a terrible mother. Nobody has to tell me,” she said over the handful of protests. “Just because I did my best, tried to make my kid tough enough the world wouldn’t eat her alive, doesn’t mean my best was very good. But I think…” Her sharp eyes flicked up to Qrow, waiting for some kind of scathing comment.

“No, no, go on,” he told her smoothly. And though his face might have been slightly smug, he didn’t goad her any more than that.

“I think Willow’s been good for me. I’ve done worse than her and she’s trying so hard to… fix what’s wrong. Have to be a real dope to not try the same thing. Guess that’s what I’m glad for this year.” Then she flung at her brother, “So you can sit on that, Jack.”

“Gladly,” he rumbled, lowering his glass of something strong-smelling and regarding her evenly. “I ain’t no prince, either, Sis. Louse everything up every day. All we can do is our best to make up for it.”

While Raven was busy blinking at the almost-nice sentiment from her estranged sibling, Yang cleared her throat and stood up. That already surprised Weiss before she even started talking – and then she surprised her even more.

“So I’m not that good at speech-making,” she chuckled, scratching the back of her neck. “Or wearing heels. But I’m gonna do both at the same time, I guess.

“Life has been pretty kooky since this princess fell in my lap. Honest, I thought she would snub me and that would be that – or that I could have a little fun before I got the cold shoulder, maybe. But this amazing, beautiful, talented, strong knock-out…” For a moment, Yang just laughed, trying to figure out what else she was saying. “She changed me. Changed my whole life in a good way, and I can’t even imagine what I would do without her now. And I don’t wanna. So yeah. Thanks, Weiss, for taming this Dragon.”

Weiss was just smiling tearily up at her proud, cocky features that were currently gazing right back at her with a megaton force of love, when most of the others began to clap. Starting, she covered her face to hide her blush, but then she felt Yang’s lips gently pushing into the back of her hand.

“I mean it,” she whispered as Weiss cooed. “On the hook for you, Schnee.”

“My sweet angel,” Willow breathed softly, beaming at both of them.

“Oh, stop it, all of you,” Weiss blustered, but the pink-cheeked grin somewhat undercut her words. Then she spoke up a little louder. “As for me… oh, I don’t have anything.”

“You don’t?” Blake asked incredulously, folding her arms over her chest and smirking. “You? Nothing comes to mind for the girl who can normally talk the hind leg off a mule?”

“Everything does. It’s everything. I mean, other than a few unpleasant things I had to witness, but… I wouldn’t trade this year for the world. I have a real family now, and some of them are even my actual blood relatives. So thank you, God, for ALL of this.”

“Amen,” Whitley said again a little more firmly than before, and this time Yang snorted a little.

“Amen!” Willow put in brightly. “And with that, let’s dig in!”

“Thank GOD for THAT!” Ruby burst out, and the others all giggled. For a tiny little slip of a girl, she had a voracious appetite.

-----------------------------------------

    Dinner was everything the Schnees had desperately hoped it would be and more. Though Raven avoided speaking to Qrow at all costs, the upside of that was that she actually didn’t resist all of Kali’s attempts at conversation. They would likely never be the best of friends again, but it was a start toward reconciliation that Weiss found extremely heartening.

However, there were a couple of hiccups. Kali and Raven got into a very terse argument about the best path for Yang’s future that didn’t particularly go anywhere. Ilia spilled gravy all over Qrow, earning her a strong glare; Willow hurried him upstairs and gave him some of Jacques’s clothes to change into while they were washing his shirt, which fit at least well enough. Whitley made the mistake of casually mentioning that his sister was a “deviant” in a room full of such deviants, though he hastily apologised and insisted he did not mean any offense when he noticed all the eyes glinting with doom. Still, all in all not a bad evening.

“I couldn’t eat another bite,” Yang burped as she helped them move all the dishes to the sink. “But I want to! It’s all so good, I haven’t even tasted Kali’s food that was this good before! And hers is always the bee’s knees!”

“Flatterer.” Kali herself came in behind her and put the empty casserole dish on the counter, then pulled Yang in for a little cheek-kiss. “But keep it coming; I might save you an extra piece of pie.”

As Yang laughed nervously, her mother strode over and said, “Hey, cut that out. Stop tryin’ to be my kid’s mom. That’s my job.” And then she kissed her on the cheek, as well, leaving a very shocked Yang glancing between them. As if waiting to have to break up a fight should it flare up from nowhere.

But all Kali did was smile and say, “Good.” Then she started scrubbing a pot vigorously, humming a light little tune.

“Um, let us do those,” Yang volunteered. “You cooked, it’s the least we can do.”

“Oh, that’s alright.”

“No it’s not. You do so much, Mrs. B, and everybody takes it for granted. I’m not gonna anymore.”

As Yang moved into position in front of the sink, Kali pressed a hand to the center of her chest and fluttered her eyelashes. “My my myyyy, Weiss, you certainly have found yourself a stand-up woman. Good thing for you I’m-”

“Watch how you finish that,” Raven warned. “Talking about my daughter there.”

“That I’m… not twenty years younger,” she finished slyly. “And I will leave it at that, alright?” When Raven nodded curtly, she rolled her eyes and tittered as she moved to stand beside Weiss. “Come with me.”

Confused, she let herself be taken to the dining room again, which was mostly empty. Everyone had moved to the living room by now. “Yes?”

“I thought I should tell you sometime when we had a moment; there’s been too much going on before now.” Glancing around, Kali whispered, “Salem has agreed that we’re rebuilding Shopkeeper’s. The money will come out of a nest egg she had set aside to renovate her own home and to retire on; she won’t be able to do those things now for a while yet, but at least we’ll all have a home again.”

“That’s fantastic news!” When Kali only frowned, she asked, “Or is it? What’s wrong?”

“Well… to be frank, I’m a little disappointed you aren’t looking at my chest.”

“Huh?!”

Smirking, she whispered, “My hands were wet when I held one to my chest a moment ago, so now the top of my dress is all damp. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice! I must be losing my touch.”

Unable to help briefly glancing at the more pronounced outline of Kali’s bosom, she stamped her foot and hissed, “You stop that! I thought there was a real problem!”

“How is this not a ‘real’ problem? My looks are fading!” The back of her hand flew to her forehead as she clutched the neckline of her dress like a silent film starlet. “It won’t be long now, little Weiss; you’ll be seeing me in a casket, old and wrinkled. Past my prime and with no bevy of saucy young things surrounding me, weeping their eyes out at the loss!”

“Oh, enough!” Kali’s laugh made her smile against her will. “Your breasts are as magnetic and splendid as ever, if you must know. Just… have other breasts on my mind. And things besides breasts.”

“Of course. It’s quite alright, really.” Cupping Weiss’s cheek tenderly, stroking with her thumb, she whispered, “I just miss chasing you around my kitchen and being ogled; it was harmless fun.”

“Me, too. We’ll do it again soon, okay?”

Kali’s grin was genuine. “Please. You might be with Yang and my Blake, but that’s a game I’m not willing to give up.”

Still playing this game, were they? Well, Weiss wasn’t going to keep being a helpless target anymore. “That’s good. Neither am I.”

Nothing could have prepared Kali for Weiss reaching back to pinch her on the rear end before she walked past into the kitchen. The squeak of surprise was as flustered as she had ever heard Blake’s mother, even if it was brief and not terribly loud. Weiss had to swallow down her own giggle – and the slight thrill of how nice that pinch had felt, fleeting as it was. When Kali followed her in a few seconds later, she was markedly more composed, but grinning wolfishly and had the faintest of blushes in her cheeks.

And her chest bore the evidence of the pinch, as well. Blake, who had been dropping off the last of the plates, noticed the stiffened peaks within seconds and hurried to finish putting them down before excusing herself. This time, Kali noticed, but only seemed vaguely curious and puzzled rather than scandalised. It seemed her daughter’s secret would remain safe for a little while longer.

Once the dishes were done, Weiss cleared her throat and made an announcement to everyone congregating in the living room. “Attention! If you all would be so kind as to join us in the drawing room, Ilia Amitola and myself will be performing ‘Ave Maria’. Just a little post-dinner entertainment.”

“Ooh!” Ruby gasped, hopping up and down in her seat. “You’re gonna play something?”

“Ilia will play, I will sing.”

“OOH!”

Qrow sighed. “I’m staying down here. Maybe Donna Reed’s on.”

“I’m game,” Raven said with a careless shrug. The others seemed to have similar opinions, and began to make their way upstairs.

On the landing, Weiss’s mother hesitated. She backtracked into the hall to ask her, “What’s wrong?”

“Unpleasant memories of that room.”

“Oh… of course.” A flash of seeing her father struck over the head with a vase filled her vision before she blinked to clear it away. “Tell you what, Mommy. Let’s start making some new memories in there, right now. Can we try that?”

Swallowing hard, her mother’s eyes flicked back and forth a little as she took up Weiss’s hand and gave it a would-be firm pat. “You’re right. I’d love to hear my angel sing again.”

Chest puffing out like a male frigatebird, Weiss turned and strode toward the piano where a clearly-nervous Ilia was playing a few scales very quietly. Blake was leaning against one wall, watching her with a genuine fondness in her amber eyes. That gave Weiss some comfort; it looked like their budding relationship was truly heading in the right direction.

So she played. And Weiss sang. The voices that were muttering seconds before fell silent. Every day of her life, she had let her father’s insistences that she needed to practice more, to make sure her instrument was honed to perfection before she displayed it to others, keep her voice caged and silent. She was through letting her past bar her way to her future.

By the time the final note wavered and faded, several hands were pressed to mouths. Kali had to sit down. Ruby and Penny were huddled close, sniffling. Even Raven’s eyes were slightly damp, though she was trying to appear her usual detached self. Everyone but Yang and her own mother were completely stunned. The issue was, several of the Dragons had heard Ilia play already and knew she had talent, but Weiss’s was brand new to most of them.

So Weiss barely had time to curtsy before they were being swarmed.

“Oh my GOD, Schnee!” Blake was gushing. “How did I not know about this?!”

“That was INCREDIBLE!” Ruby piped up, literally hopping up and down. “I’m flipping, what a gas!”

With a slight chuckle, Raven said, “How are we supposed to understand what these damn curtain climbers are saying these days?” But instead of leaving it at that, she looked Weiss dead in the eyes and added, “Nice pipes. Really.”

“Th-thanks,” she breathed. The grumpy woman only nodded and turned back to Ilia, patting her on the back too hard and making her almost fall over into the piano.

“Maybe you ought to be chasing me,” Kali told her, gripping her hands firmly. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, though. A songbird on top of everything else!”

“S-stop,” she tried again with a huge, bashful grin, but it was useless; Penny and Whitley were clapping again, and Yang was massaging her shoulders, and…

And the room was full of love, and reassurance. Camaraderie and affection. Family.

“Okay, okay!” Ilia finally cackled as Ruby gave her a big showy kiss on the cheek, causing it to change colours. “Who wants to hear something else? I could play ‘Night Train’, but it doesn’t have any words.”

“What about ‘Chances Are’?” Raven suggested with something like a grin. And Weiss had to fight down a laugh; she should have known Johnny Mathis would come up sooner or later. The woman was addicted to the crooner. “O-or ‘Misty’… doesn’t matter. Forget it.”

But Ilia was thoughtful. “I haven’t tried either before, but the piano parts are pretty simple. Weiss? You up to the vocals?” When Weiss nodded, she cracked her knuckles. “I could probably pick it out if you give me a-”

“HEY!” interrupted a gruff voice from downstairs. “Some dame’s tryin’ to break into your house!”

Stunned by that proclamation, Weiss and her mother quickly stole down the stairs to see what Qrow meant. The others were hot on their heels - and they nearly ended up in a heap, since the Schnee women had stopped dead in their tracks at the bottom of the staircase.

“Am I too late for dinner?”

It only took a few seconds of awkward smiles and heavy silence before Weiss burst out “WINTER!” and went flying across the entryway and into her big sister’s arms. Winter Schnee was several inches taller, and her trademark Schnee white-blonde hair was pulled into a taut bun. Her arms dropped the heavy duffel bag just barely inside the front door and instantly clamped around Weiss, expression melting into one of affection.

“Ohhhh, Snowball,” she whispered into her shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“Winter, I don’t understand!” her mother laughed, dashing after her younger daughter and resting a hand on the elder’s shoulder. Winter looked both delighted and surprised to see her so lucid. “What are you doing here so soon? I thought Christmas…”

“Well, after I got the telegram about Father, how could I stay away?” Her brows were furrowed despite the smiles. “Are you all doing alright? I can’t imagine…”

“Oh, fine, fine,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Both Raven and Kali rolled their eyes in the background. “You aren’t AWOL, are you?” Winter shook her head. “Oh good. Then how did you manage to slip away? How will you finish your tour of duty if-”

“I’m not. Mother, I’m staying right here in Vale, and taking over the business.”

Their mother’s expression slackened. “Oh… oh no, dear, you mustn’t do that. You enlisted to serve our country, a-and we can get along just fine while you do. It shouldn’t mean you have to drop everyth-”

“Please,” Winter said a little more firmly, finally releasing Weiss as she straightened into a more military stance. “Let me do this. I… what Father has done…” Her voice cracked slightly, even if it was her only overt display of emotion. “I should have been here to protect you, and Weiss and Whitley. And I wasn’t.”

At the mention of his name, Whitley moved into Weiss’s spot and hugged Winter soundly. Though he let go immediately afterward. “There was nothing you could do, I’m afraid, Sister. Though it still pains me to admit his wrongdoing… our father intended to kill Weiss’s friends. It was the response of a coward, and… and he was a killer, and had to be stopped. By death, I’m not quite as sure, but he deserved some sort of justice.”

“Even more reason for me to be here,” she insisted. “I am trained in combat; I could have put his head through a wall before he so much as laid a hand on any of you.”

“Don’t worry,” Willow tried to reassure her in a gentle tone, petting her daughter’s strong jaw. “We had everything well in hand. Oh, I am so very glad to have you back, though!”

Eyes finally lifting to scan the room properly, Winter smiled very slightly and said, “Yes, I see that you have a very… full house, Mother. Who are all these people? You said ‘friends’ were helping you, but…”

“Where are my manners?” Kali chuckled gently as she strode forward, offering her hand. “Kali Belladonna. I’ve been helping your mother through the legal aspects of the divorce and the will, and trying to help clean up around the house. That’s my daughter, Blake.” On cue, Blake waved. “And… well, I’m sure this must be a surprise, such an odd assortment of-”

“Dragons.” When there were a few gasps of surprise, Winter nodded at the leather jackets hanging from the coat rack, her expression vaguely thoughtful. “I remember them well. Wandered into Shopkeeper’s by mistake when I was in my junior year at Vale High, and… well, that was a rather eye-opening experience.”

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Kali suddenly breathed. “That was you? I remember that curious little lamb now. We don’t get many strays like that.”

“Wait, wait,” Weiss found herself saying, shaking her head out. “You’ve seen the inside of Shopkeeper’s, and never mentioned it? And you’re not freaking out that there are Dragons in our house?”

The corner of her mouth did twitch upward in bemusement. “Well… I have to admit, it’s a little unusual, but if you invited them in, you must think of them as friends.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

“Are they?” Weiss nodded vaguely, and Winter folded her arms over her chest. “Are any of them more than friends?” When the only response she got was widening eyes and pinkening cheeks, Winter blinked in surprise. Clearly, she had not expected her teasing to turn up anything pertinent. “Oh.”

“I… it’s not… you probably think I’m some sort of deviant.” Whitley cringed at the use of that word, memory of being admonished still fresh. “Sorry, this isn’t how I-”

“No, no, don’t apologise. Let me show you something.”

From within her plain black purse, she withdrew a battered-looking leather wallet. Flipping past a few bills and identification cards, eventually she came up with a small photograph of a petite, dark-skinned girl in a beret. Her eyes looked clear and clever, and her lips as if she were trying to suppress a smirk.

“This… is Ciel. She’s someone very special to me. Or… was.” Her eyes were sad as she added, “Her parents are marrying her off, and she told me that we had our fun, but it was over. And honestly, I believe her; I want to say she’s just scared and I’ll ‘win her back’, but I doubt it. Once Ciel’s mind is made up, it’s set in stone.”

However, Weiss was laughing. Everyone else remained quiet, but a little at a time, Winter’s hands moved to her hips as her little sister doubled over with mirth, nearly staggering over into the umbrella stand.

“And what’s the matter with you now?”

Still giggling, she turned around and beckoned Yang closer. The blonde immediately hopped to, edging past her mother and Penny to stride over to Weiss’s side. Immediately, they locked their hands together, and Yang’s eyes widened just a bit. The elder sibling couldn’t help gasping, though she didn’t look displeased. Not in the slightest.

“Oh, Winter,” she breathed with an excited grin. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Maybe we do, Weiss.” Winter leaned their foreheads together as she added, “And I would love that more than anything in the world right now.”

“Me, too. But first, come see what leftovers we have; you’re probably really hungry.”

“Yes, please!” Willow provided with a huge grin – and the fact that she also wasn’t fazed by Winter’s outing herself seemed to make the older of the sisters completely bewildered. “Come inside, dear – Whitley, can you take her bag upstairs? She must be so tired, and we have so much catching up to do!”

“Can’t one of these brutes do it? You know I have minimal upper body strength.”

“Brutes?!” Raven fired up – but Kali’s hand on her arm helped her reign it in. Through her teeth, she growled, “Sure. Anything for the Schnees.” Then she grabbed the bag with one hand, hefting it as she glared briefly at the boy before carrying it toward the bedrooms.

Meanwhile, Weiss was on cloud nine. Winter was there. Her sister was the only missing piece from her family; now it was complete. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ruby jump up and down a little before she rushed over to her side.

“You’re a little sister, too!”

“Yes,” she chuckled quietly as she watched her mother leading Winter into the kitchen, both of them chatting easily. And Winter looked so happy to see her mother wasn’t a lush anymore; was bright-eyed and invested in the world around her. Just like she herself was happy about it. “So what?”

“So it’s really COOL! Maybe that’s why we’re friends, huh? Like, aside from you dating Yang… I always thought we had more of a bond, a-and that’s what it is! We know what it’s like to be little sisters with big strong sisters, a-and that’s neato, huh? Right?”

To stop her from jumping around, she paused to give Ruby a warm hug. “We’re friends because I like you. That’s all. But… you’re right, it’s pretty neat that we both have strong big sisters.”

After only a brief pause, Ruby squeezed her back and whispered, “Yeah. Little sister club!” Then she pulled back with a huge grin. “Go hang out with Winter. She seems so hip.”

“She is.”

As she stepped across the threshold into the dining room, she heard Yang calling out, "Announcing the arrival of Her Majesty, Princess Schnee!"

“Okay, okay!” she laughed easily, turning toward the kitchen. “You got me.”

“Yeah, I do,” Yang whispered as she pulled her in close for a hug and a kiss, ignoring the coos from the other side of the door. “Got you, Schnee. All mine forever.”

Weiss’s blue eyes sparkled with affectionate glee as she leaned heavily against the Dragon. Having so much to say, but finding in the end that she didn’t need to, anyway. All she had to do was whisper a few choice words against Yang’s smirking lips before they connected yet again.

“Hmph. What a brute.”

  THE END

[suseagull04]

WIP Weekend Game

Thanks @14carrotghoul @inexplicablymine @happiness-of-the-pursuit @gwiazdziarka @daisymae-12 @myheartalivewrites and @kiwiana-writes for tagging me!!

1. WIP List:

I'm not even going to include OQ fics here, because that list would be a mile long... So if we're counting ideas that are only in my head, it's just:

-The Beauty Within (high school AU)

- Divergent AU

-post-Kensington AU

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

Definitely The Beauty Within (high school AU), the other two are only ideas so far... Although the Kensington AU technically has words, but they're just the prompt I was given, and the Divergent AU has the drabble I wrote one week.

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

I'm sure Divergent will be long too, but since I just finished the outline for it this morning, I'm going to go with The Beauty Within (high school AU), I'm about to post chapter 4 and there's going to be 21 chapters including the epilogue

4. Which WIP is your favorite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

I guess I'll have to go with the high school AU, but I also can't wait to get into the Divergent AU, I love the first two books!!

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

Post-Kensington AU or Divergent, only because both of them will involve a form of angst I'm not great at writing.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

ALL OF THEM. See the last question for the two I haven't started yet, but for The Beauty Within, it's that it's my first multichapter in this fandom, and I know I didn't make Alex likeable... And he's the only narrator so far. But both the POV and Alex's likeability will change as the fic progresses, I promise!

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

Divergent AU for sure, mostly because of the "I'm bad at science" aspect of the first stage of Dauntless training

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

I've definitely had it before, but not for RWRB yet!

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

Ooh, this is giving me ideas to add to my outline... Suffice it to say that the fact that they mention a girl from the Spiderman movies in the books gives me an excuse to have a character named Zendaya, and now, I have plans for her!

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Lol if you knew my writing, you wouldn't be asking this question 😂

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Probably going to be... Actually, might be a tie between the Divergent AU and Kensington AU, although the high school AU has its fair share too!

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

I'm hoping it'll be my high school AU (guys, I have actual character development planned. That's not quite a first for me, but close!), but it'll probably be the Divergent AU since I have something to bounce off of.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Ooh... Probably going to be Divergent?

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

The high school AU for sure!

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Probably the Divergent AU, since I love the first couple books so much!

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

I've almost never even had a fandom dream, so no- but I wish! Then I could get ideas from them!

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

Maybe the high school AU... But I'm not going to say why yet! You'll all find out not in the chapter I'm posting tomorrow, but the chapter after that...

18. Which fic is the funniest or has the most humor?

My sense of humor is so picky that this is a great question... I'm going to have some great Claremont-Díaz sibling interactions in the high school AU, though!

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

My high school AU will also feature Junora in a prominent role, so I'm excited about writing those two! Especially Nora, for her, it'll be a first, and I haven't written much for June.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs

Henry's home life is VERY different from Alex's in my high school AU... And that's all I'll say!

Tagging @celeritas2997 @heybuddy-drabbles @believingispowerfulmagic and @read-and-write- , but no pressure!

[lostmykeysie]

I just did a binge-read catch up session for ‘Missing Link’ and now I’ve finished the latest chapter, I’m feeling empty inside. It was the perfect angst, a conversation that our beloved Wolfstar definitely needed to have. I love your writing style, your characterisation (which is just completely on point to how I envision each character btw), the attention to detail, I just love your work to death, but after my perfectly pleasant day being completely ruined by that chapter, I’m feeling particularly salty, and you’re 100% to blame :,). HAHA. All jokes aside, it’s been just over a year since a friend of mine recommended ‘Horcrux Hunt’ to me, and omg, has your series brought me joy 😭 Even when it’s over, I’ll be sticking around for a while yet :) 🙏

THEY DID NEED IT DIDN'T THEY!!!! i know like this obvs isn't canon but i just hated the idea of making wolfstar too *easy* because it just didn't feel realistic!!! and they're all so young and they're traumatised and they're emotionally immature and they're MEN so it's like no way are they just gonna be able to get together and be done with it you know??? they're such an angsty pairing i just had to drag it out a bit BUT we're now onto the last four chapters and it is nothing but FLUFF <3

thank you so much it's so nice and weird to hear this because i have no idea what my writing style even is i'm like noseblind to my own writing it's mad when people say such nice things to me i squeal like a little piggy wrapped in a warm blanket xxxx

i cannot believe the series has been going for so long... i started THH in october 21 and TML i think in june 22 and it's actually insane to think about!!!!!!

i am so glad to hear that i am grinning like a loon xxxxx i definitely want to do more fics in this series, absolutely. i've got two epilogues planned and they're both set in the future so will just be cheeky little teasers to older wolfstar, jegulus, and harry!!!!!!!!!!!! so watch this c&tw space (though they won't come for some time, but eventually)

[reading-giraffe]

Review: Right Man Right Time

Kindle Unlimited, Audible, and paperback via AMAZON

🌶️🌶️🌶️

Ollie Owens is a 21-year old journalism student who accidentally finds herself kissing a random dude at a bar our of desperation. Little does she know, the man is 31-year old Vancouver, BC hockey hotshot Silas Taters 🥔. Having just gone through a doozy of a breakup, Silas is interested in figuring out how to keep his ex away from him. Silas and Ollie make an agreement to be in a fake relationship. A huge feature of their fake relationship is sexual tension that you can cut through with a f*cking butter knife. Finally, they admit that it's not fake and then all hell breaks loose when a miscommunication and misunderstanding happens.

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FMC: Ollie is freaking awesome! I love her wittiness, confidence, and open communication. Even when she's not confident, she opens up to Silas and tells him what she needs so she can face her fears. That kind of communication is so important in a relationship. Her wildly honest communication was the first green flag I saw in her. Her commitment to protecting the people she love is amazing. My only issue was, in the end, how she didn't stand up for herself when Silas came crawling back to her. He hurt her feelings so bad, especially while her whole life was crumbling down around her. If it were me and Silas came groveling, I would make him wait for a response and let him stew a bit while I absorb his apology. He literally told her "You're dead to me." Why did she take him back in the blink of an eye after he said such hurtful things to her? I guess the d*ck was really that good.

MMC: Daddy Silas. Such a great guy. He is a perfect, doting boyfriend who has been hurt just enough that you just know he's sensitive. I love watching his confidence grow while he's with Ollie. Was he harsh at the end? Yeah. I think his apology could have been way more impactful.

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Okay so first of all, SILAS HAS A JACOB'S LADDER PIERCING. *cue salivation* holy fcking sh*tballs. Also, something that's super hot is Ollie's feelings for him. It's not all that often that we see a FMC who goes out of her way to tell and show the MMC that she cherishes him, telling him that he's "worth it". She has such enthusiasm when they f*ck in that way, which is super hot.

Also, Ollie loves giving head.

Would I recommend this book? HELL YES!! I was fucking bawling by the end. In fact, after I finished the book, I went back and re-read the last few chapters because I loved them so much. While I feel like the ending was rather rushed and Silas could have done more to apologize, I still loved the ending. Actually, I wish there was an epilogue that included a proposal, but I digress.

This was my first Meghan Quinn book, and I can confidently say it will not be the last.

Available on Kindle Unlimited, Audible audiobooks, paperback on AMAZON