#sunlight again. he will walk in the sun again during her lifetime !!!!

[kitonmitons]

Ameena has always been a little liar and a thief, with a love of gold and a craving for the thrill of the steal. I like to imagine that after the events of bg3 she and Astarion used the night to their advantage (since he cant go outside during day ofc) and just stole shit and did heists

[creamflix]

the first time sukuna fell in love, he was but a boy of ten. 

he’d been running barefoot by the riverside, clutching a half-eaten apple he’d swiped from a vendor’s stall.

there, among the reeds, he saw you. 

a girl not much older than him, giggling as you played with a pair of bunnies. you smiled as one hopped into your lap, the sunlight catching in your hair like strands of spun gold. 

for the first time, he felt a pang in his chest — an ache so foreign it startled him. he wanted to walk closer, to hear your laughter up close, but the distant shouts of palace guards reminded him of his plight.

with a scowl and a heavy heart, he turned and disappeared into the forest.

the second time sukuna fell in love, he was twenty-nine. 

a hardened king by then, his hands stained with the blood of countless battles. he was unstoppable, a force of nature, until he met you on the battlefield. 

you were the opposing leader, a woman who commanded armies with fire in her veins. your sword clashed against his with unyielding strength, your eyes defiant even as the tides of war turned against you. he admired the way you held your head high, even in defeat. 

when his blade finally struck true, he found no triumph in his victory — only the hollow echo of your last breath and the unshakable image of your bravery.

the third time sukuna fell in love, he was sixty. 

his body had grown stronger, his face lined with the scars of battles and time, yet untouched by age. at a temple celebrating his birthday — his subjects oblivious to his immortality — he spotted you again. 

you knelt at the altar, your hands clasped in prayer, tears streaming down your face. your whispered words were for the departed, a plea for their peace, not for yourself. your unselfishness struck him like lightning. he lingered in the shadows, unable to tear his eyes away. 

but once again, he left without speaking.

decades blurred into centuries, and sukuna continued to see you — again and again. 

once, you were a nurse during a plague, tirelessly tending to the sick, your hands blistered but your resolve unwavering. 

another time, you were a dancer, spinning under the moonlight with a joy so infectious that even his dark soul felt lighter. 

then, you were a bandit, reckless and daring, stealing from the rich to feed the poor, your grin daring the world to challenge you.

each time, he loved you more fiercely, each time more convinced that you were the universe’s cruel joke on him — a fleeting glimpse of something he could never hold.

until today.

he hadn’t expected anything remarkable when he walked into the café, drawn by the rich aroma of coffee and the warmth of the afternoon sun. his mind was wandering, memories of his past lives and past loves swirling like a storm, when your voice shattered his reverie.

“welcome in! what can i get for you?”

his heart stopped.

it was you.

this time, there was no battlefield, no temple, no grand act of heroism. you stood behind the counter in a simple apron, your hair tied back, a pen tucked behind your ear.

yet you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“uh, sir?” you tilted your head, offering a polite smile when he didn’t respond right away.

“coffee,” he managed, his voice rough. “black.”

you nodded, punching it into the register. “sure thing. anything else?”

“your name,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

your eyebrows lifted in surprise, but you laughed softly. “it’s y/n. do you need that on the cup?”

he stared at you, stunned by how casual you were, how close he was to everything he’d yearned for across lifetimes. 

“no,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “i just wanted to know.”

you laughed again, handing him his coffee once it was ready. “well, enjoy, mystery man.”

he lingered by the counter, holding the cup like it was an anchor to this moment. he didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to miss the chance he’d always let slip through his fingers. 

this time, he swore, he wouldn’t run away.

“how long have you worked here?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“a few months. why, thinking of applying?” you teased, wiping down the counter.

“no,” he said, his voice softer now. “just wondering how long it took for the universe to bring me here.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words. but before you could reply, the door jingled as another customer entered, pulling your attention away.

sukuna stepped back, letting you go about your work. for now. 

he’d waited centuries to speak to you, to know you. he could wait a little longer. but this time, he wouldn’t let you slip away.

not again.

the concept of the cafe was inspired by my pookie @curtins's recent post on jjk men in cafes, go show her some looveee <3 produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[arcielee]

the salver & the sword

paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 4.4k+ warnings: AFAB reader, more missed moments, just sprinkling some seasonings and placing you back into this crockpot that is slow burn author's note: Sorry this chapter was delayed. I have been rewatching jjk and Nanami crept into my brain. I always knew he was going to show up but I was unsure as to how. Also, Runa belongs to @itbmojojoejo (thank you for letting me borrow her) from their amazing story Crimes Of Passion (another fandom, but I don't care). I just fell in love with this OC and thought, "Yes. This is perfect. This is exactly what Nanami needs." Also, oji is uncle in Japanese. Enjoy! 💜

Chapter IV ~ No Hesitation

At first your sorrow held over like a heavy fog, a slow dissipation as you settled into a routine with the days that followed. 

The general was a man who seemed to wake before the sun, tending to Mimiko while you remained curled in the furs, hazy blinks into the sunlight spilling through the trees. You helped pack up the camp, saddling everything onto the horse, and Suguru would take the lead while you walked along the other side, just as before. He kept Mimiko at a steady pace, allowing you time to unfurl from your silence, from your lingering grief that grew lighter with your steps. 

He asked you simple questions which allowed you to tell memories of your father, and you found it soothing to share your history, the story of how Atsumeru was passed down. It was an endeavor began by your grandmother, who was a renowned healer across the sea. She taught your father everything he knew and when he came of age, she gifted it to him, telling him to go and make his own name. 

It was a dam broken, and you continued on to share about your mother, something that was both familiar but foreign on your tongue, a pain more muted after all the time that passed but never forgotten as her very fierceness was embedded into your blood. She had fled the Ryomen Kingdom after Sukuna’s violent claimant of the throne, and was just a wounded refugee that your father came across. 

He cared for her and as she healed, she could not help but fall in love with him. 

“After she died, I knew I wanted to follow after my grandmother and my father.” Your cheeks were warm from your overshare, and you peered over at Suguru. 

He was watching you, a pain flickering over his features before he dared ask. “What happened to her?” 

His thoughtfulness touched you, though that pain was not as raw as it once was, just another event in that lifetime ago, back at Hoshi. It was something else that fell into place, creating this pathway that seemingly carved its way back again.

“She was cut by a shi no ha during the battle of Hoshi. It was not deep, of course, so she and my father focused on helping those more grievously injured.” 

Your eyes stayed forward, hiding the shine of unshed tears, habitual now with your current heartache, but you noticed the tension that rippled over him. “The death blade.” It was a statement confirming what you shared. 

Hemlock grew rampant in the north and was poisonous when ingested. The Ryomen soldiers would ground it and line the insides of the scabbards and sheaths with it, a tactic that allowed a fatality with shallow swipes of their steel. This method allowed a slower, painful reaction, with stomach cramps and a rapid pulse, a slight fever that could be ignored until it would scorched through, boiling the marrow of your bones. 

And then, it was too late. 

It was new to the battlefield, nothing to be prepared for. Your father did not realize what was happening until he noticed how her eyes dilated, black swallowing the color, and her jaw locked, saliva frothing at the corners of her lips. It was a chain reaction all around, plaguing those who thought they survived the battle, and his supplies were sorely limited.

Nothing could be done to save them all. 

“I now try to always be prepared,” you admitted. 

Suguru was quiet for a moment. “The charcoal?” 

You nodded, a warmth with the thought that he recalled the pouch that you tucked away along with the other herbs purchased. “You can mix it with water and it helps prevent it from being absorbed from the stomach and into the body,” you confirmed. “And besides, I need to take whatever I can find these days.” 

He was watching you, his stoicism held on like a guard with glints of unsaid emotions that came and went with the flutter of your pulse, a silence that now curled into your abdomen. You allowed him the time, as you realized he took a conscientious effort to gather his thoughts. 

“I believe you will make your own name,” he said, “just as your father had.” 

The sincerity in his tone prickled your skin and you looked ahead again, your face burning. “That is what I hope. I know I can start again–I have my father’s book, I have the few mementos of my mother, and I still have that pouch of silver.” 

Suguru only hummed his acknowledgement, but you caught the smile touching his lips. 

The days were spent in this way, a conversation revived that allowed you a raw honesty you never shared before, but it was something you wished to give him. Suguru still felt like an enigma, unreadable, and at the same time, he returned that candor with any question you dared to ask him. 

For Suguru, you found it to be an even exchange, with his ceaseless patience shown to you in every situation. There was no hesitation because of your sex, but he would share tasks, like capturing smaller wildlife of the forest: he showed you how to strip away the fur and cut the meat into strips, placing them over the fire to dry out. He was not one to bloat you with praise, just his low murmur when you mastered whatever was shown.

You preened from that attention.

He gifted you his hunting knife which felt comically big for your hand, but he showed you how to keep a firm hold and cut some rope to knot around your waist, a place for its sheath. His hands were careful and the warmth of his palms bled through your dress, fluttering into the pit of your stomach. 

“So you can protect yourself,” he told you, “if I am not there.” 

That struck you deep, rattling you with the thought, if I am not there, and it spilled past your lips before you could stop it. “Then I will pray to the gods that you always are.” 

The unsaid flared in his eyes, a conflicting desperation to press onward or remain rooted in the moment, and you were the one to pull away from him, your disappointment carving into your belly. He needed a distraction, it seemed, and you allowed it. 

Autumn allowed berries to blossom, and you showed Suguru the difference between the edible ones and the poisonous ones. You held on your skirt to carry, picking until your fingers stained and washing them in the river that followed along. It was a treat to share until you both ate your fill. 

Still he remained guarded, still deliberate with his every action towards you, and it left you craving for something unknown in return. You found yourself mindful of the setting sun with the stretch of shadows, eager to help set up the campsite. Your patience petered away until the blackened blue sky extended overhead and the stars glittered bright above, and only then would he reach for you, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around to hold you close.

It lulled the disappointment, the craving that wound tight within you, scattering away into the solace he unknowingly created at night. His steady breathing and his warmth were comforting in a way you wished you could dig your fingers into and never let go. 

But the sun would rise again and pull him away. You would wake, alone, to repeat the day. 

It was not anything you experienced before. Other suitors would come by and speak with your father about your “need” for a husband, a good man, but he would chuckle and tell them same thing, “It is her decision. Only she will know.” Time again it proved that whatever you were looking for did not exist within them, and you wondered if it could ever be found.

And now you were walking across the Tengen Kingdom with the purple-eyed demon. It felt that you still did not know him, truly, though his actions showed you one man versus his legend known throughout. Your curiosity knitted onto your features, stealing bolder glances across Mimiko.

The amber hues of the coming dusk washed over Suguru, illuminating him–his eyes showed golden in the light and the black silk spill of his hair gleamed, the sun reflecting Nanako and her gemstone that glittered in her hilt over his shoulder. 

Worthy, returned the thought, followed by the intrusive: He is so very handsome. 

“What about you, Suguru?” 

Autumn decorated the road with leaves of burnt orange and red, the crisp air returning as the sun curved to tuck away. You had been bared to him and felt desperate to understand the man beneath the myth, but hid your eagerness with your almost teasing tone, beneath your sly smile. 

“What about me?” He asked, his eyebrow arching, daring you. 

You swallowed. “I wish you to tell me more of who you are.” 

“But I do not have much to tell.”

His smile spoke otherwise, and you continued. “You are the most fearsome swordsman of the Queensguard, and you have nothing to tell?” Your palm pressed to Mimiko to guide your steps without looking, to tilt your head towards him with a mocking pitch. “The very same man who wields a legendary blade that chose him?” 

You relished in the rose tones that flushed his face, the soft smile that touched his lips. “I do not believe that you do not have much to tell. Nothing to share outside of your lore?” You hesitated. “No lady of the court that awaits your return?” 

That thought had been twisting in your stomach, but you were determined to remain coy, flippant as you waited for him to pick out his words. When he looked to you, the shadow cast cut away the gold glow, his purple eyes pinning you. “My life is my duty to the queen and to the prince. No one stays very long, and I cannot blame them.” 

It was sombering, and it left you burning with questions you could not stomach to ask– a feeling that replaced the dull ache with something that seemed unattainable. For Suguru, a general’s devotion was his life, just as being a salver was your own, and to ask him for anything else… 

You broke away from his gaze, biting into your bottom lip, caging your thoughts behind your teeth. 

“Besides,” –you dared to look back to see him smirking, and it flared through you– “who would wait around when I am sent on a fool’s errand?” 

Suguru was never what you were expecting, and your laughter spilled in a way that felt absurd, pulling a string of merriment that pearled tears in the corners of your eyes. He was pleased with your reaction. 

“General Suguru Geto.”

You froze, the voice cutting through. Suguru looked ahead to see a man walking up from a pathway with a fishing net over one shoulder and carrying a basket brimming with mackerel. “I had thought the gods bless us,” the stranger seemed dour, unsettling, “but I see it was only to prepare for you coming across my path unexpectedly.”  

A smile stretched across Suguru’s jawline, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and you exhaled, unaware you had been holding your breath. “We both know you do not believe in destiny in that way, Kento Nanami.” 

“Perhaps.” He was sunkissed, his golden hair slicked back and the gleam of his perspiration pulling his cotton shirt to his form, to his broad shoulders. The severity etched onto his sunken features softened as he came closer, his hazel eyes flitting from you and settling onto Suguru. 

“Either way, here you stand now,” he gestured, a smile curving on his lips, dimpling into his cheek. “Come, follow me home to see Runa and the kids. We can eat and you can tell me about whatever Satoru has you doing now.” 

+ + + +

Kento Nanami had grown up in Hoshi, serving alongside Suguru and Prince Gojo during the war. He found his notoriety when he led a small militant group, cutting westward to ambush and kill the infamous major general, Mahito, which resulted in crippling the Ryomen force. The tandem continued, allowing Suguru to press north, Nanako in hand, beating them back across the border and ending the war. 

You were already aware of these tales from the ballads and songs about the purple-eyed demon and the valiant fight that echoed throughout the Tengen Kingdom, their efforts forever immortalized. 

What you did not know was the kinship that was forged during this. You also learned that Suguru Geto, and sometimes the prince, would come and visit in the springtime, and how Kento’s children referred to him as oji.

You followed along in a daze, the road ahead splitting and a stone path weaving away into an enclave of trees. A wooden fence bordered around, providing ample room for livestock where some goats and a cow grazed. Suguru unhitched Mimiko so she could join, and you helped him carry what you had back towards the cabin aglow, smoke curling up from the chimney. 

A woman came to the doorway, tall and lean with a copper spill of curls and blue eyes that pierced through you. “Suguru,” she called his name with a warmth, a fondness that touched her lovely features. “We were not expecting you so soon.” 

“This is my wife, Runa.” Kento moved towards the steps of the wooden porch that stretched around, setting down the basket before wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. You felt your blood simmer and looked away, spotting two more sets of eyes peering from around her skirts, a little girl and a little boy. 

“Off with you!” Runa pushed Kento back, still smiling. “You smell like fish!” 

“Oji!” The little girl burst forward, unabashed, her eyes golden, with a wildfire of strawberry curls and freckles strewn across her nose and cheeks. 

Suguru crouched on command to scoop her up and she giggled as he tossed her upwards. “Hana, I want you to meet my friend,” he said, settling her onto his hip before turning towards you. 

Her eyes widened with your name, a toothy grin on display when she asked if you belonged to her oji. You wished for the earth to swallow you, but Runa was quick to react, sweeping Hana back into her arms and chiding her– “You little minx, you cannot ask that.” 

“But you said that he needed a lady friend!”

The warm tones clashed with Runa’s hair, panic glinting in her eyes as she ushered the little girl back inside, along with the basket of fish. You could not look at Suguru, but focused on the other pair of eyes–blue like his mother’s. He stepped forward on unsteady legs, his hands reaching to grab your skirts with a shy smile as he looked up at you. 

Kento reached to ruffle his golden hair. “And this is my youngest, Nobu.”

“Hello.” You kneeled to be at his eye level and his skin stained pink, his smile dimpling his face. “Do you want to come inside with me?” 

He nodded and you took his hand, allowing the men their reunion. You followed after Runa and Hana to the kitchen that was wide and spacious. A table was placed in the center where the basket spilled, and the stove burned bright with a warmth that filled the room. 

For you, it felt like a long-lost home. The children played on the floor while you followed Runa’s command, taking the spare knife to remove the heads and split the fish in half while she tended to the broth and rice. Hana offered her services to spot and pluck the pin-bones and Nobu watched with a wide-eyed wonder. 

Runa was effortless, a sharp wit that had you tittering, a boldness that allowed her prying to understand the guests her husband brought home. “What brings you both out here?” 

Your embarrassment prickled over and you cleared your throat. “Uh, the prince commanded for me to be fetched by…” you faltered on his name, “the general, so that I can become his wife.” 

Runa stopped to look at you, aghast, her empathy bringing her brows together and her lips downturned. “Poor Utahime. I see that Satoru remains as rash as always,” she tsked. “And pulling you into it, you poor thing.” 

You giggled again. “I feel bad for Suguru, if anything, as he has been given the duty to return with me.” 

“I see we have nothing better to do with a decorated general,” she began to stir the broth again, shaking her head. “So what will you do?”

It was only fair for her to ask. Runa did not know you. “I have to go and let the prince know that I will not marry him.” 

It was her turn to laugh, a warm raucous that filled the air along with the gustful smells of supper. “I like you already.” 

The men came inside as dinner was served, the children eating their fill while you listened to more of the stories shared about Suguru and Satoru and Kento, with mentions of that blustering knight, Yu Haibara. You ached from your laughter, savoring this unconditional friendship shown at the table, flowing with ease and filling your chest with a warmth that touched your cheeks. 

It was getting late and Nobu had fallen asleep, curled in his mother’s arms though Hana fought to stay awake, her head dozing against Kento. You watched their affection, the tenderness in this family that called to you–the vast difference from the loured expression Kento greeted you with earlier. Now he held his daughter with one arm while he reached with his other to pull on Runa’s curls, and the gesture forced a blush in response. 

You had to know. “How did you two meet?” 

It was curiosity, or perhaps a sort of envy coiling in your chest, watching their love so bold in front of your eyes. Throughout the night, Kento always looked to his wife, to his children, with a softness to his features, a glow reserved for them. Runa would catch his wandering eye and her radiance returned, brightening the blue of her eyes. 

It was something almost tangible. 

She laughed at your question, pulling your attention. “You may somewhat relate, but imagine waking up and finding a damn soldier bleeding in your garden.” 

“She actually thought I was dead,” Kento corrected, his eyebrow arched at her, a good nature scowl scrawled across his sharp features. “I woke up to her going through my belongings–”

Runa held your gaze. “It was war and things were dire,” she defended with a wicked grin. 

“Nonetheless,” he shifted to pull Hana up, resting her head on his shoulder, “I found her holding my sword–assessing it for its worth, in retrospect,” –a manic giggle spilled from Runa’s lips– “and noticed some of the surviving men of Mahito coming up behind her.”

You saw that Runa’s eyes shone as she listened, as if she was hearing it for the first time. You looked to Suguru and saw his smirk on display for whatever was coming next. “I was going to warn her,” Kento continued, “but she quickly turned to them, portraying this damsel-in-distress act, begging them to remove me, luring them closer and then…”

Kento paused, a slight smile on his lips with the memory. “Well, I had not seen such skill with a blade since Suguru–” 

“My father taught me and my brother very well.” Runa boasted. 

“She cut through them all, hacking them into pieces to dispose of them.” Kento was proud. “I watched her, covered in their blood, and I told her she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” 

Runa smirked. “I thought he had lost too much blood.”

“She pulled me inside and took care of me until I healed, and I would have stayed if Suguru and Satoru had not found me.” 

“She begged us to take you away,” Suguru scoffed, adding to the retelling. “She told us that he had gone mad.” 

You looked back to Runa and she shrugged. “Kento proposed,” she explained, rolling her eyes, but she was luminous with rose hues. “He told me that he wished for me to become his wife. I told him no, that he needed to go and end this blasted war, and only after, if he still felt compelled, he could come back and perhaps I would reconsider.” 

Your heart fluttered with the prospect, the possibility of leaving a life of sworn duty, seeing how it now thrived in this very residence. You licked your lips. “And, I am assuming, you did just that?” 

Kento returned a war hero and the queen had offered him whatever his heart desired; she granted him a dishonorable discharge. “I had to go back to her,” he explained.

“He never stopped talking about her,” Suguru teased. “It was endless about this red haired beauty who wielded a sword so fine, piercing his heart…”

Amongst the tittering, Kento looked to you, his asperity returning with his words. “It was not love at first sight, but something that came from the moment that I truly saw her. She called to my heart and it recognized her.” His smile was soft again. “I would do it again.” 

His words rolled over, pulling at your heart, and your eyes flitted back to Suguru. He looked away, crimson on his cheeks. 

It was the sleepy whimper from Hana that broke the moment and Kento pushed to stand. Runa shifted, but Suguru was quicker, moving to pull Nobu into his arms, following after his friend to put the kids to bed. 

She watched her husband walking away, her head tilting to admire. “We do have a spare room for you and Suguru,” she told you without looking. “It’s for when my brother comes through, but the bed should be cozy enough for the two of you–” 

You nearly squeaked your surprise. “But, we are not–” you stammered, unwilling to say it out loud. 

“Really? I was so sure,” Runa turned to face you, surprised. “But–I apologize, I only assumed with how you would look at him, and the way Suguru blushed with what–”

The thought never finished as Kento and Suguru returned. Instead, baths were to be drawn for their guests and for the day to come to an end. You followed after Runa, lost in your thoughts and the steam that rose from the tub, almost startled when she pressed something in your arms: a clean dress to change and a chemise, along with a belt. 

“For your blade,” she smiled. “I noticed you had it knotted around your waist.” 

You flushed. “That was Suguru’s doing. He wanted me to be able to defend myself, if I needed to.” 

Runa watched you for a moment, the scrutinous blue blaze of her eyes. “Then allow this belt to help with that.” She turned to leave, pausing in the doorway, peering over her shoulder back at you. “Suguru is… not shy, but he holds onto his honor like armor.” 

“What do you mean?” You were quiet with your question, your eyebrows knitting together. 

Runa sighed. “He would never try anything, especially if you are intended for Satoru.” 

She left you alone with a scurry of thoughts and emotions that twisted throughout, a wave of gooseflesh in its wake. Intended, the word repeated, almost poisonous, and you felt as if you were burning. 

You peeled away your old dress and slipped beneath the water with the bar of soap you made, the honeysuckle and tree oil soothing. You soaked, your mind pulling back to Suguru with an absent-minded tracing of your fingers along the top of your thighs, moving up to press into your knee before falling away again. 

It always returned to him, a muscle memory formed since he first came and found you in your garden. 

Your agitation had burned bright despite the legend that stood in front of you, irksome with his subtle arrogance he carried with his posture, his gait, his certainty with every word spoken as bold as the blade strapped to his backside. There was a power to his gaze, the glitter of amethyst that pulled you with some unspoken emotion that danced, while his lips held onto his infuriating, perpetual smirk. 

But your perspective of him had changed, though you could not pinpoint the moment with so many woven together in the short amount of time shared: the market, the fire, the nights curled up against his chest under the endless stretch of starlight. 

You always thought him handsome, you could admit, but that seemed a girlish crush at first. This was something that matured without you realizing; it was the way his gaze always seemed to find you, rooting you, and how he would tease you when you balanced on the precipice of your temper, and how it would ground you again.  

That night at the market–you asked him to stay because something told you that he could be trusted, that he was safe. He showed you glimpses of his true character outside the lore and legend with how he touched you that night of the fire, his gentle wipe away of your tears mixed with ash, his empathy somber on his face. 

He did not let you go that night, you realized and that memory flushed through you, curling into your lower abdomen. You shifted, water spilling over the edges, and you slipped beneath, washing away the suds before you finally pulled yourself out. You dried with the sheets left behind and changed into the cotton chemise, brushing the rose oil into your hair and plaiting it back, moving back through the quiet home and towards the spare room. 

Moonlight spilled through the windows, and tapers were lit for an amber glow. You saw Suguru at the other end, dressed in a clean shirt and slacks from Kento, baggy on his lithe form. He paused. “I was going to just sleep in the loft,” he offered, looking at you. 

And your heart recognized him. “You should stay.” Your voice was quiet, careful with your shy admittance. “I sleep better with you at my side.” 

At first, he seemed stricken with your words, and his jaw ticked as he processed them. Suguru then nodded and reached to take your hand, leading you towards the spare room.

The bed was as cozy as promised with the scent of fresh hay and clean linen, mixing pleasantly against his skin, warming your cheeks as you curled back on his chest. 

taglist: @sugurubabe @elliesndg @paprikaquinn @yeehawbrothers @witchbybirth

arcie's navi | jjk masterlist the salver & the sword masterlist

[writeyouin]

David Request (if you're still doing that, I know it was 2 days ago that you asked for David requests so you can ignore this if not)

David wakes up super early, as he always does, and starts getting ready for his day, but the sight of himself in the mirror catches his eye. He looks over the numerous scars he's accumulated over a lifetime in the woods - especially his wolf encounter - and reflects deeply

David (Camp Camp) X Reader - Scars

A/N – You didn’t actually ask for a reader insert, but that’s kind of my thing so I sort of turned this into one. Also, thank you so much for requesting this, I just had a real craving to write for David. I needed this so bad.

Warnings – Minor mentions of David’s trauma but nothing too serious.

Rating – T

Some things never changed at Camp Campbell. The first rays of sunlight that shone over the camp were always the brightest, though admittedly most of the campers missed them, staying in bed for as long as they could. Somewhere in or around the camp, the Quartermaster was finishing up his nightly routine of hunting for cryptids in the forest and preparing to cook breakfast. Gwen was likely dreaming about the trashy films she watched.

And David… David felt like he was the one thing that had changed recently, and he wasn’t sure whether it was for the better.

He sighed as he got up. Normally, David would greet the sun and salute the Camp’s flag from his bedroom window, but he had too much on his mind.

He was thinking about everything that he had gone through in the past few months and contemplating whether other camp counsellors also suffered so much. Perhaps they did, or perhaps… David didn’t really want to think about it, but he couldn’t help wondering if other camp councillors didn’t suffer so much because they didn’t care about their camps or the campers that attended them.

He knew that Camp Campbell wasn’t exactly somewhere to be proud of, and maybe if he put less effort in, things wouldn’t hurt so much, but if he didn’t care about the camp then who would? Who would protect the nature that resided in the camp? Who would look after the kids? Sure, most of them would go to other summer camps, but there were some kids whose parents didn’t care about them, kids like Max who needed Camp Campbell and Councillors like David to keep an eye on him.

David stretched, getting out of bed, an unusual scowl weighing down his lips. It wasn’t the only thing weighing him down.

Recently, David had started dating you, and while it should have made him the happiest man alive, he couldn’t help worrying about the future. His previous relationships had all ended in failure. He was never manly enough, or too emotional, too fast to love, and too slow to pursue a physical relationship. How long would it be before you got tired of him like all the others had?

The trouble was that David found that he did want to be intimate with you, but there were some things holding him back; things he didn’t feel comfortable talking about.

As dark thoughts began to cloud David’s mind, he walked to the vanity by the wall. Beneath it was a chest of drawers that held his clothes. Staring into the mirror, David removed his pyjama shirt, examining his reflection as he stood uncertainly in only his boxer shorts.

At his age, it was expected that he might have a few scars; most people did after all. Then again, most people had normal scars from things like shaving accidents or breaking some glass. David’s scars weren’t normal.

There was a scar on his lower abdomen from where the Quartermaster had dug his hook hand into David during their fight to raise money for the camp. David’s left shoulder had a burn that had never healed after he’d stopped a firework from exploding near Max, shielding it with his body. His opposite bicep was scarred after Nikki had bitten him after he’d split up a fight between her and the Wood Scouts.

Then, there were the bigger scars. Tentatively, David brought his hand to the claw marks he’d received from a she-wolf in the wild. They were long since healed now, but they ran deep. Would you find them repulsive? David did.

He didn’t so much hate the scars, but rather the memory connotated with them. They reminded him of how hideously he had acted when faced with the predator. They reminded him of how callous he could be when pushed to the edge. David remembered all too vividly how close he had come to caving in the wolf’s head with a rock, and how he had screamed at her beforehand; he was terrified of ever becoming that person ever again.

Of course, David had multiple scars from the wolf. His back was worse than his torso, a painting of scars that revealed how desperately the wolf had tried to climb him to save herself from the fall into the gulf.

David’s eyes travelled to his forearm. Four tiny pinpricks shone on his skin; the wolf’s bite itself. Those were less prominent thankfully, and when you had asked about them on a date, he had brushed them off as nothing.

David pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching up his eyes against tears. It was all too much.

“Hey David, I-”

David spun around as you burst into his room, the fear apparent on his face as your words died in your mouth.

“I-” You floundered for a moment, trying to regain your composure. Usually, David was up and ready now, and he was normally the one bursting into our room. You had never considered that it would be a problem to visit his room without knocking.

“I’m sorry,” You gulped, averted your gaze. “I didn’t mean to- I- I’ll just go.”

“No need,” David said hurriedly, his tone strained as he tried and failed to impersonate his usually happy self.

He rushed to open his drawers, grabbing his camp shirt and putting it on backwards in his haste.

“See,” He fake-laughed, holding out his arms as if to present himself to you. “All dressed, nothing wrong here.”

After a moment of awkward silence, David glanced down, realising that he was still in his boxers. Assuming that was the reason for your silence, he flushed red and hurriedly put his shorts on, presenting himself again.

“I-” You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry I came in here without knocking. I just assumed you’d be ready by now.”

Conjuring up his best can-do attitude, David grinned, though he was clearly uncomfortable about everything that had just occurred. “It’s fine. No need to worry about any hideous scars here. Everything’s great.”

You frowned, waiting a moment before speaking so you could find the right words. “David, I apologised because I know that you like to take things slow. I never meant to imply- If you think for even a second that-”

David’s smile faltered as you stumbled over your words and he sighed, dropping his façade of happiness.

He rubbed his arm awkwardly, making himself as small as possible and staring at the floor as he spoke, “(Y/N), I know my scars are ugly and if they make you uncomfortable, you should just say so. It’s alright, I won’t think less of you for it… If this is a dealbreaker for you, just say it.”

David tried to hold back tears as he waited for your imminent rejection. He knew that he was an ugly crier and he didn’t want to make an already terrible situation even worse with hideous crying that would show you just how pathetic he really was.

“I don’t think your scars are ugly,” You said in a small voice.

“You don’t!” David dared to look up at you, confusion written all over his face.

“No. I was shocked, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m sorry I didn’t say so right away… I just panicked, and I know that you’re shy about things. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

David’s lips tilted upwards in a tiny, hopeful smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, and if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you, and if you don’t, that’s okay too.”

David swallowed his nerves, feeling butterflies in his stomach. He knew it was too soon to tell you he loved you; he had said it too early in relationships before and it had scared off multiple dates. Yet somehow, he thought you might be different. After all, you hadn’t reacted badly towards his scars… Maybe you would even heal the scars in his heart.

He raced over to you, embracing you in a crushing hug, to which you reciprocated gladly. He would tell you he loved you, but he would wait till your next date night when he could plan everything to be perfect. Finally, he had found someone who accepted him wholly, scars and all.

Like my work? Buy me a Ko-Fi.

[alfredosauce50]

From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

[venuscribble]

No open cars, no open bars — Kim Namjoon

A/N: Hello again! Sorry I will do everything but follow the laws of grammar in my writing, I'm working on it... Grammarly hates my guts. Anyways, please do enjoy!

Summary: Joon takes his most favourite person to his most favourite spot in Seoul. He even gains a new friend on the way, too.

Fluff, hints of idol!Joon, gender neutral reader, bullying in a very romantic and charming way

It feels like I’ve lived for this little moment

On the two wheels, everything is just a trivial daydream

“Nearly there!” calls out Namjoon, riding ahead of you with his navy denim jacket billowing slightly behind, spanning out to meet the push of the wind like the wings of a dove. As the same gust pushes itself through your hair and makes waste to the careful styling you had applied to it, you can't help but realise it doesn't treat you half as nice as it does to the man before you. The gentle breeze makes his every movement elegant as he peddles along, head turning side to side to make sure every inch of the scenery around him is taken in. Intently, Namjoon soaks every little detail of his ride up and leaves nothing to be ignored. There’s not a single thing his pensive mind cannot see the beauty in, as his legs continue their steady push of the pedals below him. Nothing is minute, and to Namjoon, everything has its unique charm. It makes perfect sense for Namjoon to demand that the physical embodiment of everything he loves most about biking should accompany him on his next excursion. Despite your feeble argument against it, you knew how much accompanying Joon meant to him, a signal of trust and love which such a small gesture revealed to you. “It’ll be absolutely perfect,” he gushed as you agreed. “My baby and my bike. My two favourite things.”

You’ll do almost anything to see the bright beam of a smile Joon emits when he hears any good news. Even, it seems, deal with the gradual pain in your calves as you carry on peddling your bike along the smooth concrete path. Casting your gaze around, you understand with full clarity why Joon comes here to think - the world around you feels nothing less than idyllic. With the golden light of the sun meeting the greenery on either side of the road which you and your partner now inhabit, it feels like nothing of the cold concrete world you’re used to. Saturated and delicate, the air of perfectness is almost confusing in a sense of unfamiliarity to you. Even the daisies along the path's edge which greet you with a bow as the wind hits them feels closer to a Ghibli movie than your admittedly average life. It feels so unlike bustling Seoul, unlike unforgiving earth, unlike any dimension you could conjure up. This moment between you and Namjoon is so intimate that you conclude the space belongs to both of you and you two only. Only yours and Joon’s reality to feel the sunlight warming your cheeks and to think back on in future days.

“You look so peaceful.” You call out to Joon, hoping your voice carries through the whirring of your wheels and your backpack which audibly jiggles under your peddling. Namjoon smiles to himself, head ducking slightly in bashfulness. Accepting compliments from such a deity as yourself…he knows that will never be his forte. Alas, something his high IQ falters at - the praise of his loved one. He doesn't have a moment to string a reply together when along the path ahead he spots something that has him squeezing his brakes.

“Ah, check it out!” He exclaims happily, dismounting his bike as you brake to find...a traffic mirror? As you settle your own bike out the way to walk to your boyfriend, your head comes to rest on his shoulder from behind, looking up to the circular shape. It gives off an almost fish eye effect, the sky which is gaining an orange hue curving around your interlocked figures. A strong arm moves to hook around your waist, as Joon pulls you into his side. Seizing the opportunity to finally have you close once again, his lips plant a small kiss atop your head.

You give a small puff of a laugh. “Yknow, stopping to look at your reflection is a little vain.”

“Stopping to look at our reflections,” Joon jokes with a soft squeeze to your hip. “Me and my love.”

Your head turns to find where Joon had left his bike - of course, rather half-hazzardly abandoned in the middle of the path.

“You just left your love in the middle of the road.”

Namjoon can only let out a long and disapproving aish at your joke, releasing the hand on your waist only to engulf you in a gentle hug. Your head rests against his chest, finding solace in the familiar deep scent of his cologne. His arms wrap around your frame and rest on your hips, chin resting atop your head as he begins to rock your bodies side to side.

“Stop that.” He whines, rather than scolds. “You know I’d choose you above anything alllll day. Even if it was some kinda super cool mountain bike with an engine built in so I don't have to pedal. I’m still choosing you, okay?”

“Even above a super cool bike with engines?” you pout up at his face. He’s starry-eyed staring down at you, love pouring out of his gaze.

“Even then, and always.”

Content, you allow yourself to settle back into the comfort of his chest. What a sight, you wonder. Two lovers swaying to a melody no one can hear. You hear some chatter in the distance which only becomes a murmur once your senses tune to the soft rise and fall of Joon’s chest. His eyes smile down at you until flicking up to the mirror once more, and the sight of your frame resting upon his as the sunset casts a golden beam over you makes something tug at his heart. "Why me", he puzzles. Why him of all men in this lifetime, granted a gift so precious as yourself. He closes his eyes. His mind spirals into self-reflection. Why should Joon be the sole person granted such a harmonious moment as the one happening in front of his very eyes? What makes him so lucky? He doesn't have too long to analyse what karma he has, as he feels two paws plant themselves above his knee.

“Yeong-Won! We don’t jump at strangers!” ashamedly orders a woman as you turn your head and deduce to be in her mid-30s, whilst she and another older lady pry the golden retriever from hopping up your boyfriend’s leg. Not that Namjoon would care at all. Joon loves animals, and your many days having him give Moni just a few more kisses than you can attest to that.

“Hey, buddy!” coos Joon as he bends to meet the dog’s level. It’s slightly more grown than a puppy yet reaches to kiss Joon’s face with ease as he sinks to greet the boisterous dog. He rakes a hand over its head, running through its golden fur and ruffling his slightly floppy ears. “Nice to meet you, Yeong-wonie. What a handsome boy, eh?”

“He never does this to strangers,” offers the older of the two women to you. “Looks like he needed to say hello!”

You smile in return, shaking your head as Joon and the dog carry on playing as if the world around them has dissolved away. “What a lovely dog, he’s adorable!” You giggle. Joon rises to stand once again, not without ruffling the golden fur one last time.

“So sorry about that, again.” The younger woman adds as her eyes seem to pause on Joon’s face. Not something you're entirely foreign to.

“Wow, I feel like I recognise your face, mister. Dayeon-ah, doesn't the nice man seem familiar?”

The elder, now identified as Dayeon in your mind, furrows her eyebrows together as she thinks. Namjoon all but turns red.

“Ah, my mother tells me I have ‘one of those faces' all the time. It was nice to meet you! See ya, Yeong-wonie!”

After a quick goodbye, you both share an embarrassed laugh together and settle to resume biking once more. The sunset is in full swing now, casting shades of neon pink and blood orange against the cloudless sky like lazy brushstrokes of colour overlapping.

As Joon promised, it only takes a quick 2 minutes of peddling until you rear a corner and the greenery which followed your left side on the path is replaced by the apricot shade of the Han River. The sight makes your stomach stir - it's like nothing you could ever imagine. The setting sun reflects so perfectly, an oil painting brought to life in front of your eyes. You know Joon meets your level of adoration as the wind carries the sound of his small “Wah, so pretty” to you. Joon, your self-proclaimed bike guide during this trip, guides you along the path beside the river further, the atmosphere tranquil with the sounds of birds chirping and your wheels spinning.

“We’re here, babe.” Joon announces, once again dismounting his bike and prompting you to follow, resting your bike beside his. He is, of course, your guide. Your personal guide pauses to stop at a flat square of concrete just aside from the main path, facing the river which grows more and more picturesque by the minute. Your perfect picnic spot, you realise, pulling the backpack off your body and spreading the soft brown blanket kept inside. Joon gives a soft sigh as his body all but collapses down onto the square. The man is uber-fit, almost shockingly buff these days, yet he groans groggily after your short ride.

“Someone tired?” you tease. “Maybe you should be hitting the gym some more than you already are.”

“You're so mean to me. I bring my favourite spot and you make fun of me like this.” Huffs Joon, leaning back with his hands behind him supporting his body. “You’re lucky I love you as much as I do,” he adds with a small laugh.

“I know,” you reply, rapidly. You know you are, you might just be the luckiest person on earth. The one feeling the warmth of Joon’s unconditional love and companionship every single day. You feel like the moon and Joon is the earth itself, only you are blessed to be in his orbit despite the unfathomable size of the universe and countless other people living as you are.

“Hey, you know I'm kidding, babe.” Joon softly argues, hand running through your hair, ruffling it slightly. A blush creeps up to warm your cheeks, nuzzling into the large hand currently entwining it’s fingers into your hair. After a slight pause to collect his thoughts, Namjoon’s voice becomes more gentle as he replies, “Having you...it's like having this one treasure no one else can find. Like, I dunno. Like everything good you’ve done in life is being repaid to you. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it makes sense, babe.” Your hand pries the one resting on your head to lock your fingers together, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You feel like that to me, too. I promise. You feel like everything good.” You take a quick look around your surroundings. You catch Joon’s eyes locking onto yours, gazing adoringly at you as if some sort of heavenly body had taken form, moulding into you. “You feel like the sunset and the trees... The wind, the flowers, all of it. You feel like nature to me, Joonie. Just tranquil and loving,” you turn to meet his eyes, “always so loving.”

“Ah, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Didn’t think taking you on my ride would make me so…”

“Gross?” you intercut with a smirk.

“Emotional, Y/N. But, this is the most romantic place in Seoul, I suppose. Doesn't help that I'm here with my angel. It’s human nature to be all soppy.”

You shuffle down to rest your head on Joon’s thigh, the extra bulk recently gained there making for an excellent makeshift pillow. He looks down at you with a tender smile which makes your most favourite pair of dimples on earth take form.

“I’m just waiting for someone to pop out that bush and say ‘Hey, got ya! Look at you being all mushy!’” you joke, the laugh it emits from Joon slightly rocking his thigh and your head in return.

“It’d probably be Jin-Hyung. I would go investigate myself if he didn’t have a schedule after we left. Still, not that I think anyone else can be trusted.” He huffs.

“Mm, definitely not.” you agree, nuzzling slightly into his thigh below you.

“I could stay here forever,” Joon begins after a tranquil minute, “just frozen in this moment.”

You want nothing more than for that to happen. For the laws of time to grant you this never-ending memory, to encapsulate it forever and never again worry about the minutes passing you by.

Joon’s lips press another soft kiss upon your head, lingering there for a while, basking in your warmth and the smell of his favourite green apple shampoo you keep using. Above you the sun gives its last fleeting moments of illumination, sinking to be doused in the Han River. He stays there, engulfed in bliss for a short second, nothing worrying him on Earth. That is, until his eyes widen and his head whips from atop yours to rapidly look at your puzzled face.

“How’re we getting home?” He all but exclaims. He’s right, you're both clearly slumped and what little sunlight that is left quickly fades. You think for a second, then, nothing.

“Shit!”

[jeon-kookie-dough]

Caught in the Game - Chapter 01

After growing up in the midst of Toman and a rather wild time in college, you are now working for a popular fashion magazine. You were aware of your boss's gang past - Kokonoi Hajime's name having been well-known during your school time - but after you bumped into an old friend at work the other day, one coincidence follows the next and you find your past catching up to you...

pairings: Koko x reader, Chifuyu x reader genre: angst, gang!au rating: m for violence & slowburn smut word count: 2,536 next>

The subway was much stuffier than usual. Bodies pressed into each other at every curvature, the sweat mingling on the sticky handlebars. And it is only the morning, for fuck’s sake.

The way from my house, which is located kind of in the outskirts of Tokyo, to Chiyoda where my office was located, felt like a lifetime this hot morning. Between trying to avoid creeps in the subway and standing in the longest queue in front of my favorite coffee shop for what seemed like hours, I was trying to supersede immense tiredness.

As of November, of the year prior I was working for one of the bigger fashion magazines in the country and the deadline for my latest article was already scratching at the front door. More like clawing, actually.

Up until starting up this job, I was used to living a half-assed life. School came easy to me, despite having been caught up in some…situations. College was a blur of alcohol and parties and I just barely graduated. After college I held myself above water with various part-time jobs, having been kicked out from home at barely 18 and landed my current job by chance. This upcoming article was more than important to me, thus stressing myself, and crying my fucking eyes raw from frustration, since it was the first time having my work printed in an actual magazine instead of just publishing online.

The second I stepped foot into Marunouchi Park Building, I sighed of relief and thanked who ever invented ACs. I entered the elevator, pushed the button for the 23rd floor and leaned back against the cool metal wall of the cabin. Just as the doors were about to close, somebody sprinted into the otherwise empty cabin. The person was male and of average height, balancing a couple garment bags and shoe boxes in his arms. I wasn’t really surprised that he was going to exit on the same floor, as the other offices in this building were mostly financial firms.

Not minding the other person, I let him leave the elevator before me, clocked in and greeted my colleagues with a friendly nod. I took a while, but in the past eight months, people seemed to have accepted that I was far from a morning person, so they learned to appreciate my curt nods. Only because I bring coffee. At least that’s my hypothesis.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

My eyeballs immediately rolled to the back. Hearing my boss’ voice in the morning was like nails on a chalkboard. I rolled back with my chair, peaking around my cubical. The bright sunlight illuminated the office through the glass front, reflecting in the angled door to the chief editor’s single office. His figure leaned in the door, arms crossed and hand holding out expectantly.

“S’up, Koko?” I mumble. I knew exactly what he had his hand stuck out for, but I wouldn’t give him the gratification he wanted. That rich fuck, I thought. Bet he snorts his coke with 10k yen bills but can’t even get his own fucking coffee.

“Think my hand is missing an iced Americano this morning. Care to explain?” His slender frame circled around the cubicle wall, now towering above my sitting person. My office was usually occupied by five people in total. Inui always being late and the other three on vacation left me as the only victim. I rolled my eyes at him. “Dunno”, I retorted, opting for my most innocent look. “Think I might have dropped it. You can have a sip of my Cappuccino, but I’m afraid I spat in it.”

Kokonoi Hajime was a peculiar person. He stood at 5’9” and his black locks braided away from the left side of his face was his signature look. He cared a lot about his staff being dressed well, as he himself only own designer suits from Italy. Despite enjoying the power he had over his staff, he also was very liberal in the way we communicated with another at the office. I had never met him before taking the job, but I had certainly heard of Kokonoi way before.

Koko was only a year or two older than I was and back in middle and high school he had a reputation. He lived one school district away from me, but the stories about him were also told at my school. Stories of a financial prodigy that hid behind his wannabe gangster friends that, most of the time, resorted to violence.

“You have a foul mouth”, he snickered, grabbing my cup and taking a sip anyway. “Somebody ever told you that?” I hummed in response, counting my coffee lost, and turned on my laptop. “I have a meeting in five minutes, so please take my calls, will you? Inui is useless, as always.” I nod silently, still grieving the loss of my coffee. Koko’s gaze rested on Inui’s empty desk, then on me. “How’s that big article of yours coming along?”

I knew he meant no harm with that question, but my elevated stress levels along with the acid, that always seems to wing in his voice, made me snap. “Fuck off, alright? I’m working on it.”

The chief editor raised his hands in defense and backed away from my desk, a smile playing about his lips. “The meeting’s until noon. Tell Inui to take my phone when his drags his lazy ass here.”

Inui arrived at 10:30, offering a coffee and a doughnut as a peace offering. I told him to screw off and, finally, concentrated on my article. It was almost done, but I needed it to be perfect before handing it to Kokonoi for proof-reading. I couldn’t afford messing this up if I ever intended of becoming a regular in the print.

I was so emersed in my work that I never saw the visitor arrive or leave. At lunch, all that occupied my mind was my hunger. I didn’t really have a lot of money left, thanks to the fucking chief for having me dress in expensive clothes so he quote unquote didn’t have to claw his eyes out at the sight of me, so a snack from the vending machine it was.

With food just in sight, my feet may have become a little too eager and I stumbled a crashed face first into someone walking by, having them fall onto the marble floor with me. I cussed under my breath and tried to get onto my feet, when there was already a hand outstretched to help me.

“You okay?” I averted my eyes immediately, embarrassment written on my face. “Uh, yeah, I’m alright, I guess. Er, I think you dropped something.” I dove right back down, picking up the visitor laminate. It read ‘Visitor for KOKONOI Hajime. Name-‘

My gaze darted up immediately, meeting a pair of silver eyes staring right back at me. “Mitsuya fucking Takashi?” I whispered in sheer disbelief. My opposite grinned, squeezing his eyes shut doing so. “It’s been a long time, huh, (Y/N)?”

I found myself accompanying Mitsuya to a Korean restaurant down the street for lunch. His treat, he said. The sun was merciless, and he scolded me for not carrying an umbrella with me. “It’s bad for your skin, you know?” I grunted, looking up at him. “Like I care.”

My high school graduation ceremony had been the last time I had seen Mitsuya. Up until then, we had almost been inseparable, having lived in the same shitty apartment complex, visiting the same middle school and him only being one year older. Back then, a lot of things happened. We never really had a fall out, at one point things just changed.

At the restaurant, we slid into a booth and a young waitress came to our table to take our order. Her eyes revealed that she found my companion attractive, but as per usual, he was oblivious. A couple minutes passed, and we were handed our drinks.

“Alcohol at this hour?” His eyebrow shot up in worry, vanishing behind his silver hair. He changed it up a bit since then, leaving his shaved sides in his natural black hair color, his top hair raked with black strands in the otherwise light hair. “Thought you had given up on that.”

I stirred my vodka soda with the glass straw, the ice chinking against the glass. “Yeah, I had.”

Mitsuya didn’t dig any further and leaned back into the cushioned bench instead. “So, a fashion magazine, huh? I thought you always wanted to become a sugar baby, what happened?” At his question I emptied half my drink in one gulp, disregarding the straw completely. “Turns out I’m not really cut for sucking wrinkly dick.” To that, Mitsuya busted out laughing. “You achieved just what you always dreamed of. How does that feel?” I asked quietly.

He stayed silent for a while and I watched him gnawing at the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking about how to choose his next words. “A lot of time has passed, you know?” His voice was dull as he finally spoke. “And a lot happened in between. I guess it was either getting my life under control or…” His voice trailed off, but I knew exactly what he left hanging in the air. Prison. Or even worse, death. “For my sisters’ sake, I chose to get my life together.”

I nodded, fumbling with the glass straw, one burning question on the tip of my tongue. How are the others? Is everyone still alive? I was too afraid of the answer, so I pushed the thought way back.

“Tell me about you, though”, Mitsuya smiled and leaned forward, folding his hands and propping his chin on them. “Working for Koko now, huh? How’s that been?” I groaned quietly and let my head hang. “He’s a fucking pain in the ass. Making me buy all this expensive shit so I’ve got nothing left in the bank. If I knew beforehand who the chief editor was, I would have never taken that job.” Mitsuya chuckled and flicked my forehead. Just like he always used to.

“I know what you mean” he mused. “I never thought I’d see his face again after-“ My eyes shot up at the tone in his voice. I never knew they had met before. Back then, I would have feared for his life. Everyone was young and stupid back then; delinquents with nothing but fist fights on their minds. But the folks Koko had surrounded himself with were more on the actual criminal side.

“What? Mitsuya, you never told me!” Even I was surprised at the pure horror in my voice. “Why didn’t you say something?” Mitsuya shrugged. “Nothing bad ever happened. It was just a surprise to see him in a position like this, that’s all.”

After lunch, which was fucking delicious, dare I add, Mitsuya and I exchanged numbers before going our separate ways.

The rest of the day I couldn’t concentrate on anything anymore. Before I headed home, I met Kokonoi’s gaze through his glass door and it gave me the shivers. Like he was watching me. Like he knew something. Creep. This weird feeling followed me all the way home and I caught myself looking back at every turn, at every red light. For some reason the conversation I have had with my old friend had me nervous. Nervous for him, for me, for everyone. What if Koko’s the same old thug, but with a lot more money and influence?

At home I opened a bottle of white wine, dunked the cap in the bin and sat at my desk, ready to catch up on the time I wasted at the office being worried. With a little liquid confidence, of course. Cheers!

I had approximately gotten about three hours of sleep. My body felt like it had gotten run over by a truck, my brain felt like soup. The only silver lining was, that I had, hallelujah!, finished my article – and my favorite co-worker Natsuki returning from her vacation. She had been working at the magazine already when I had started and showed me around.

Only a few days after I had started working, Atsushi Sendo had been transferred from another internal office to ours. There had been a lot of rumors occurring around his transfer, sexual harassment among them, but in the end, he had only royally fucked up his latest pitch and, as a punishment, had been put under Koko’s supervision, since he’s known to be the meanest editor. He ended up liking to work with us so much that he just stayed. The three of us ended up becoming the bane of Koko’s existence.

I stepped one foot into the office, yawning and pulling an Inui, I can’t believe that I arrived even after him, before I heard Natsuki already picking a fight with the chief editor. I silently put her coffee next to her cup of tea, handed another one to Inui and sat down at my own desk.

“With all due respect, Kokonoi, but you can’t expect me to not freak out when I come back after three weeks and find myarticle published under your name!” I leaned back into my chair, eyes closed, and head thrown back, and listened to the bickering in the chief editor’s office. A few minutes later, Natsuki threw the door into the lock behind her, the heel of her shoes dangerously echoing in the otherwise silent room.

It only took a moment before my sleepy body jumped awake when it got hit by a paper ball. My eyes ripped open just to find her eyes lingering over the wall between our cubicles. “Thanks for the coffee”, she said, raising the cup in a silent toast. I did the same, somewhat straightening up my spine in the seat. “Glad you’re back”, I yawned. “Old scrooge was unbearable.”

“Was?”, Natsuki barked under her breath. “He’s the spawn of hell! Remind me to never take anything from him again. He’s the kind of person to always expect something in return and I don’t even want to think about what he would expect.” I grunted in my chair and sipped on my black coffee, leaving a red lip print on the paper.

“Money” Kokonoi, who unbeknownst to any of us had left his office, answered Natsuki whilst keeping his sly eyes on my. “I don’t take anything but cash. (Y/L/N), where’s your article. Deadline’s today.” Natsuki’s and my eyes met over the screen. Our boss rarely called us by our names, much less our family names - he prefers shit like darling or sweetheart. Why the fuck am I still working here?! – so we knew something was up. And maybe I have a hint.

“Check your mails. I submitted it at, like, 3.” “A.m.?” Natsuki mouthed in disbelief, but I kept my eyes fixed on Kokonoi. He beckoned me with a finger to follow me. “Come in my office for a minute, would you, sweetheart.” There he was again. The egotistical, chauvinistic asshole. The chair hit the screen behind me as I rolled back a little more forceful than intended, but I followed him, anyway.

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden: Booklet 2

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I wanted that star. I wanted to be the person who would piece through that star.

   Leon Stephanotis and the First Star

   I had once seen a comet that only came around every two hundred years together with a girl.

It had happened years ago. That was one beautiful evening. Even now, I can still vividly recall the twinkling of the stars we watched on that day while our bodies shivered at the coldness of the nightly wind. Like jewels scattered over a dark canopy, the starry sky was enough to make one forget to even breathe. As it passed by, dragging its white tail, the meteor looked just like a fairy in flight with insect scales scattering about from her wings.

Whenever I looked at a beautiful night sky, I would think many times over, “Aah, now that I’ve branded this moment into my heart, I’d have no regrets if someone reaped my life away”. Should I lose my life, I wanted it to be on a starry night like that. I wanted to die with the memory of witnessing something stunning.

“May the night sky be a beautiful starry one on the day I die,” I wished.

But that one evening was a little bit different. Maybe because I had someone to watch the stars with me. Maybe because that was my first love.

She was a gorgeous person. Even more than the stars. Her hair looked like the Sun when shining under the moonlight and her blue eyes were like gemstones created from a mix of the sea and the sky. With her porcelain skin and skylark voice, the way she walked was just as that of a well-cared maiden. In reality, she was an orphaned ex-soldier, as well as an Auto-Memories Doll from a far-away southern country, so the saying “don’t judge a book by its cover” was pertinent when it came to her.

She was most likely an once-in-a-lifetime kind of person, one that you couldn’t know if you would ever get to meet.

My chest throbbed even at the sigh that leaked from her when she was peeking at the telescope. When she looked my way and smiled faintly, I experienced an impact as if I had been hit in the head, giving in to a love that made me feel like my whole body would melt and crumble down.

“Master, astronomical observations are quite a wonderful thing.”

If, by any chance, my body were to be crushed by a star in that moment, only on that day did I want to keep looking at something, even if for just one second more. I wanted to keep looking at her. Forever and ever, I wished. That was what I thought.

This encounter had changed my life and decided my fate. I didn’t mind if people laughed at that, calling me a romanticist. I, Leon Stephanotis, whose destiny had been altered, would always look back on it.

On the day that I had watched the stars with Violet Evergarden.

   “There was a sea of gold in his land” – who was it again that had sung the praises of a desert like this?

“I’m beat.”

When bookworms read too much, their head’s capacity would exceed the limit, so they would automatically forget the things they had read in their early phases. I had confidence in my memorization abilities and yet I couldn’t remember this, so it was surely a passage from an adventure novel or something of the sort that I had read in my childhood.

——What a beautiful comparison.

When I actually stood in the middle of a desert, my impressions were drawn to the temperatures, sunlight and other such things regarding the environment instead, so this poetic expression hadn’t crossed my mind. In the destinations of my travels, I often reminisced to a certain someone who was somewhere in this world, as well as the things she, who spoke words as beautiful as that, used to say, as if borrowing them.

“So pretty...”

I liked the color of gold. I could observe the grains of sand moving smoothly for all eternity.

“Everyone, you did well; the books we excavated will be brought back by another group. Meaning that we from the starting line-up are finally off for the first time in months.”

As I was spacing out, I didn’t hear the commander’s words very well. I was only staring at the ground, missing out on everything. When I raised my head, the happy-looking faces of my bearded and somewhat dirty colleagues entered my eyes. All I understood right away was that we would get a vacation.

“After we get twenty days off, we’ll regroup in Iustitia, at Shaher’s headquarters. After that, we’ll go to that place in the south where the reconnaissance team was sent. Next will be our turn to bring back the luggage. Don’t let your bodies get weak.”

“Roger that.” Once everybody gave an agreeable reply in unison, we disbanded from the spot.

Iustitia, Shaher’s headquarters. The main office of my occupation. I was previously in a section called the codex department, devotedly working on the deciphering of documents and copying manuscripts, but now I had been transferred to a completely different section. It sounded good when we were called the leading actors, but it was actually a group of reeking adventure rascals, the literature collecting department.

I put my heavy baggage sack on the ground and heaved a breath. Wiping the white folk clothes that I had been provided with on-site, I dusted the sand off them. This clothing called dola – a long robe secured by a waist belt – looked flappy and inflexible at first glance, but it was surprisingly easy to move around in. It was made of a rather velvety silk material, so there would normally not be so much sand sticking to it, but since I was caught in a sandstorm until just a moment ago, there was no helping it.

We had returned from a thorough search in the ruins of an abandoned castle, once the dominion of a royal clan whose name was eminent in the past. A book burning movement had taken place in this land at a certain point, but we had received information that a scholar from those times, out of fear towards the situation, had hidden valuable books in the forsaken palace. The information was apparently right, so after wandering around all over the deserted castle, we had found dozens of books. The books that would be taken to Shaher’s headquarters were to be made into written copies and spread to the world.

Made for protection purposes, Shaher’s literature collection was also well-reputed in other countries. It was difficult to negotiate with the locals responsible for the abandoned castle, but we were allowed entrance this time as well thanks to our achievements thus far. Just like that, someone’s story, studies and feelings, which were supposed to have disappeared, would breathe once again. The books we had been looking for would be delivered to other people and comfort them during long nights.

——What a wonderful thing.

The working environment was awful, but I was proud of my job.

I sat down on my luggage and gazed at the cityscape while drinking water from my canteen. In this desert-zone city, everyone’s clothes seemed harmonized no matter what color they wore.

“Senior Leon, what will you do on your days off?”

As a junior who had not yet left the spot called to me, I furrowed my brows and looked at his face. He was a young man of masculine facial traits, which was enviable to someone as baby-faced as me.

“Hey, Sir.”

A rarity amongst the members of our unit, the man had not been born in Iustitia. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was a rich kid who had been born in a southern country and entered Shaher through connections with the foundation executives.

Getting a job at the Shaher Observatory was a daunting task even for those who had studied astronomy. It was hard to make it without learning in a good environment from an early age. Since Iustitia, the capital of stargazing, was the best place to study in, it was natural that the ones hired were mostly the locals.

——Well, this guy had connections, so this has nothing to do with him.

I pondered an answer. “Nothing in particular.” For the time being, I decided to be cold, acting as nonchalant as ever.

And this was also the same as always, but the junior took no offense in my crude response – rather, he laughed at me, looking happy. “Then that means you’ve got no plans. I was thinking of going home. If you’d like, how about we go together? We have a villa by the lake... If I go now, the schedule will allow my family to join in.”

“No, why do I—”

“Last time we had a break, I told my little sisters about your cool adventure story and they wouldn’t shut up about how much they wanted to meet you. Hey, hey, how about it?”

I was baffled. I had no idea what was good about me to this junior but he would oddly flock to me. The reason why I hadn’t told him about my plans right away was that I felt he would follow me if I did so. Honestly, he was a bother. Up to now, we had acted as a group. I wanted to be alone even if a second sooner.

“I’m not going.”

“No way... My family’s all pretty boys and girls! Sir, you like beautiful things, don’t you?”

“Do they look like you?”

“They do.”

“Then they might be pretty, but won’t be my type.”

“Sir! You’re horrible!”

“So loud. If your family’s waiting for you, hurry and go.”

While I gestured with my hand as if shooing a dog, the junior made a puppy-like sad face. Even though he had a big body, he was amicable and his display of emotions was richer than most people, making him look all the more like a dog.

“Then, if you ever feel like coming to see me during your break...”

“I won’t.”

“...could you contact a hotel called Varona in Leidenschaftlich?”

“I won... uh?”

“It’s a first-class accommodation establishment. It’s under my uncle’s administration, so you can get a stay there immediately, and I can pick you up as soon as you give me my name. Oh, you’re making an interested face, huh? Want to come with me right now?”

What piqued my interest was the word “Leidenschaftlich” – that was all.

——That’s where the CH Postal Company is.

And it was also where my first love worked at.

“You were from Leidenschaftlich...?”

“That’s right. I did say it in my self-introduction when I joined the department.”

“Well, I don’t listen to people I have no interest in...”

As expected, my junior gave a happy-looking smile with his whole face. “Sir, I like that you’re equally unfriendly to everyone. People only got close to me because of my title... and my family’s social standing... but Sir, you’re cold, and that feels nice.”

“Your suffocating actions are a pain in the ass to me. Besides, hum...”

“What is it, Sir?”

“Hum, say... is the CH Postal Company well-known?”

“Do you know Violet Evergarden?” – the reason why I couldn’t ask this was a literal embodiment of how much I lacked guts, I thought.

With an “aah”, my junior immediately made a face like the name rang a bell. “I know them. It’s the company of that businessman, Claudia Hodgins, right? They’re popular. Shocking that the name of a company would come from you.”

“I’m an adult, after all. I’d know the name of one or two renowned businesses at least.”

“That’s a lie, ain’t it? I already know you don’t have interest in anything but stars. Erm... if I’m not wrong, all the postal companies of Leiden got sucked into it. They also succeeded in company split-ups. Their president is a celebrity too. The newspaper series where he talks to other entrepreneurs is a trend... It got adapted into a book just recently. There’s a chapter in the extra edition where he talks to his secretary and the president of an affiliated company, and it’s so fun. The book’s in my room at the headquarters, so you can take it with you and read it all you want.”

“Is there nothing about business in that book? Like, about the Auto-Memories Doll field... Hum, according to my research, there should be a rather famous Auto-Memories Doll in it... Don’t know if she’s still there, though.”

I timidly attempted to ask, yet it seemed my junior didn’t know the details. That was expected. The number of people who could hire Auto-Memories Dolls was limited, so hardly anybody would know even the name of a famed Doll unless it was someone marginally acquainted with them.

“I wonder. I do sorta know that they apparently have one real beauty of a Doll. But I also have a good-looking face... so I don’t yield to beauties from here and there.”

“Got it. Thanks for the info. And for the nice conversation. Go home.”

“Sir...! If you get bored of being alone, please remember me!”

Leaving behind my clingy junior, I took off from that place. I strutted with a hand in my pocket.

My junior wasn’t a bad guy. He had a high-handed personality but fit into the category of good person. He must have talked to me like that because he knew about my background as an orphan who had lost his parents and got a job at the astronomical observatory by way of assistance from Shaher. Meaning he was worried about his senior, who would be spending his vacation alone with no lover or family. The reason why he had invited me to a house where his family would be was probably that he was exposing his intentions in his own way.

——But to hell with that.

I wanted to be alone. To say that the people who thought I was pitiful were the actual pitiful ones was my essence. I had always enjoyed watching the stars by myself anyway, and I enjoyed books about stars too. Book reading wasn’t meant to be done with two people, right? I liked being alone. This was also because I had lived a life of accepting solitude for a long time, but if anything, it was harder for me to settle down when I was in someone’s company.

When I turned the street corner and confirmed that he finally wasn’t following me anymore, I let out a relieved sigh.

——Alone at last. Time and space just for me.

The times when I was by myself like this were the ones I felt most comfortable in, and while I did have some things to reflect upon in that regard, unfortunately, I didn’t have a family to pester me about having children, unlike the rest of society. Because I was alone.

——I get that it isn’t a good thing.

There were things that you couldn’t get used to or change, despite understanding why you should. I was equal parts as obstinate as I felt inferior to those who had families. Only one person had ever made me want to be with her for a little longer when I was in her company.

——Only one.

Our circumstances were similar and we were also alike in that we were burdened with loneliness, but it wasn’t as if I liked her because of the similarity. It was because she seemed like she would be all right even if she were on her own, so I had wished to stay by her side. To get close to her. I “liked” her in that way. It wasn’t as if I wanted her to do something for me. I was the one who wanted to do something for her. It was that kind of “like”.

It had happened a long time ago.

After we had spent a little time together, she left. When we were bidding our farewells, I stopped her and confessed.

“Violet.”

I told her I was in love with her. I didn’t ask her, “I like you, so what do you wanna do?” – I simply told her I liked her.

“I’m... I’m... in the codex department now, but... I actually wanted to be in the literature collecting department like my father.”

She gave me this answer: the way that she cherished me was different.

“I had my hopes up that maybe my mother would come home one day if I waited here, bringing my father back with her... so I kept shutting myself in until this age, without ever stepping off into the outside world. That was possible in this place and I wanted it myself. But... just now...”

But if we ever happened to meet again, she wanted to spend time with me.

“I’ve just made up my mind. I’ll go around the world like you.”

In that moment, the woman who had said that she couldn’t feel emotions...

“I might face danger. I might lose my life without anyone ever finding my body, just like my parents. But—But that’s okay. I’m thinking of choosing that path.”

...smiled at me like a normal girl, looking happy, and told me something.

“If I do that, I’m sure we might get to meet someday, somewhere, under a starry sky. We’re both gypsies. And if that happens, will you...”

——...watch the stars with me again?

“Yes, Master.”

She told me that. She said it. This alone was already enough for me. This alone gave me the courage to come out of the world that I had been secluding myself in. Even if my love wasn’t requited, even if we never saw each other again, I was so happy.

She.

Violet.

Violet Evergarden.

Just that – just the fact that she had promised to watch the stars with me – had made me happy to the point of changing my life.

I kept making transfer requests ever since that day, finally earned approval and ventured myself into the outside world. The world other than Iustitia that I saw for the first time was bustling with a dizzying variety of things, which made me regret secluding myself. But surely, if I hadn’t met her, I would have taken a lot longer to go outside. No, I might have never left that bird cage to begin with.

That environment where I was allowed to wallow was terribly indulgent. After all, everyone was awfully nice to me for not being able to stand up, just because I was sad.

I didn’t simply think that I would definitely get to see her at least once. The probability of an astronomer and an Auto-Memories Doll, who had spent time together at work, meeting even once was surely the same as the meteor we had seen that day – once every two hundred years.

I was being ridiculous. If I really wanted to see her, I should just go visit her postal company in Leiden. The reason why I didn’t do it was that I was scared. That maybe her words were just out of friendliness, and that, if we did meet, she wouldn’t even remember me and I would be rejected. On top of being terrified of this, I also had a dream.

That if we ever happened to reunite, I wanted us to meet again truly by coincidence, under a starry sky.

If something like that really were to happen, just what would I do? Would I smile? Cry? Or ask for her love again?

I nodded at a passerby who had almost collided with me and started walking again. I had no particular destination. I could also go back to the headquarters just like this and be an idle bookworm in my own room, but going sightseeing around this city for at least a little bit was also good.

——I won’t get to see Violet if I stay in that place.

I had no free time to spend money, so I could afford the luxury of staying at a remotely nice hotel. Having made up my mind, I went into the main street and began looking for accommodation in the desert capital.

   Local idioms were honestly my weak point. Even though it was a common language, it was hard to catch because of the many dialects. When I talked to elders, I was done for.

However, I could perfectly understand that the inn’s owner, an old gentleman, had treated me like a “young lady”. Of course, I told him he was mistaken, but he didn’t hear it. He led me to my room with a hand around my hips.

The room was quite a high-class one, so I let it slide. If it were my old self, I would have been as furious as a raging fire. But I had grown up. By holding back my anger, I would manage to spend the night in a proper bed, where it didn��t seem like bugs would show up, so becoming an adult was for the best. Even if my self-respect decreased a little.

While I was chilling in the room and writing my diary, the sun went down in a blink of eye and it was getting late into the evening.

   “Heave-ho.”

It was the dead of night. I put on warm clothes and prepared myself to go out.

I wanted to observe the desert’s starry sky at my own leisure. As our activities had been limited to daytime ever since we had arrived here, I was now finally getting to do the things that I actually felt like doing. I had watched it together with everyone else from the windows of the cheap inn that the literature collecting department’s personnel had stayed at, but as expected, I wanted to see it from a spacious place with no noise or anything of the sort. As a scholar born in the so-called “capital of stargazing”, I obviously was going to have my fill of the desert’s night sky.

Unable to contain my feelings of excitement, I left the room after my lips relaxed a bit. For the heck of it, I greeted the innkeeper and told him I was going to see the stars. When I did so, he made a worried-looking face.

Apparently, women were forbidden of wandering outside at night in these lands. He couldn’t stop me from going out since I wasn’t a local, but warned me not to get too close to men. It wasn’t as if there were many ruffians among the people who walked around at night, but simply that this city had this kind of culture, so if the men suddenly spotted a woman, they might think badly of it. I had grown up in a men’s dormitory watching a bunch of idiots, so I understood what he was trying to say.

I showed him the retractable cane I was holding, and while I was at it, I also demonstrated with one swing that a blade came out from the tip as well. It was not for killing anyone, but it sufficed for making the other party recoil and holding them back.

Receiving the innkeeper’s applause from behind, I ventured myself outside.

The temperature gaps between nighttime and daytime was extreme in the desert. Having been raised in a mountaintop astronomical observatory, I was used to areas where there was a discrepancy in temperatures between day and night, but even then, I could bring myself to deem it as comfortable due to differences in humidity. The instant I stepped outside, I shuddered with a “brr”.

However, I forgot the cold as soon as I saw the sight spreading overhead. Surely, God must have dropped His jewel box. The starry sky unfolded in a way that made even someone like me come up with such a poetic saying.

Due to the fact that it was nighttime, there were few people out, but it wasn’t as if nobody was wandering about the city. Just as the innkeeper had said, it seemed that someone with a womanly appearance (I wasn’t a woman at all, though) walking around did catch people’s eyes, as they called to me countless times. I put myself on guard in each of those instances, and everyone withdrew with the same caution as the innkeeper.

Not letting the women walk around late at night was also meant for protecting them.

I had heard that there was a place for stargazing aimed at tourists somewhere a little far from the city, so I headed there, for safety as well. Several tents were erected around the sparse green area. In addition to privately built tents, there were also merchant tents selling drinks and food.

After looking through the signboards with the prices of the alcohol and warm soups that people of this region consumed and were familiar with, I picked the alcohol. I was an adult now and on vacation, so I told myself that it was okay to drink today and gave myself permission.

I went for a cloudy-colored alcoholic drink simmered in a large pot called the witch’s cauldron. It was warm and sweet, with a slightly spicy aftertaste. It warmed your body when you drank it and was the best delicacy to savor in cold weather.

Some people invited me to enter their tents, but I refused and steadily began setting up by arranging the astronomical observation tools that I had prepared. I assembled a demountable astronomical telescope over the sheets.

Even though this was said to be a place for stargazing, not everyone seemed to be astronomy freaks like in Iustitia – most of them were lying on the ground, enjoying a conversation with their companions while relishing in the jewels of the night. Everyone other than myself had simple handheld telescopes, so a few locals started appearing fussily around me, looking greatly interested. If anything, there weren’t just tourists.

A young father who had a child with him shyly came to ask me, “How much is it for you to let us take a look?” Apparently, he had mistaken me for a merchant.

“I don’t take money for it. It’s something for me to enjoy myself.”

The young parent made a bewildered face at my blunt reply, but nervously stepped in front of the kid and said, “It’s okay even if it’s just for a little bit, couldn’t you let this child take a peek?”

“Sure, it’s fine.”

He was also surprised at my ready consent. As he asked one more time if I really wasn’t going to charge for it, I declared that I wasn’t, swearing by this land’s god.

I beckoned the child. Our heights didn’t match since he was too small, so I lifted him by the hips.

“Can you see them?”

“Just a tad higher.”

“This much?”

“Amaziiing.”

At the child’s delighted look, the father and I locked eyes with each other and laughed. Then, other people who had been surrounding us at a distance came over one after another, asking me to let them see next. Whenever I said that I wasn’t charging any fee, they would ask me back, “Are you a saint or what?”.

In a land where you could see such beautiful stars, astronomical telescopes weren’t wild-spread among locals, enjoyed only by tourists and outsiders. That was probably the case. For them, this was an expensive item brought by outsiders. The stars were beautiful enough at naked eye, so if I had to say it, telescopes weren’t necessary. But if there was something that would help them see better, there would obviously be people saying that they want to take a look.

——Guess I’m gonna contact Shaher’s donors and indicate this place as a potential donation site.

If this pleased so many people, maybe it would be nice to have a telescope that everyone could look into, just as there were benches where everyone could sit on along the streets. I liked stars, so it made me happy even if just one more person fell in love with them.

“Having fun?”

“We are! You’re so generous!”

The figure of an elderly man much older than myself smiling like a boy, looking extremely happy, struck home pretty hard. It wasn’t like I wanted to hang out with anyone or that I had a preference for getting along with everybody. That wasn’t the case at all.

“This thing’s pricey, ain’t it? You okay with people touchin’ it without a care?”

“It’s not made for decoration; it’s something to look at.”

But these kinds of moments were nice.

——Very nice.

If these once-in-a-lifetime encounters would increase the proportion of stargazing in someone’s life, nothing could make me happier.

——When I get old, I guess I’m gonna run a rent-a-telescope or something like that somewhere.

I decided to take a few steps back and let everyone enjoy themselves.

This sensation that the joy of the surroundings was becoming more and more contagious. This feeling that people were gathering there only out of curiosity and adventurous spirit, not for profit. It didn’t seem fitting of my usual self, but something like this was also conceivable every once in a while.

With nothing to do, I naturally started looking around. Wonderful night, wonderful atmosphere.

The figure of someone standing still amongst it all entered my field of vision even without me wanting to. Everyone else had a companion.

The person was clad in dola like me and had a veil covering her face. From her physique, I could somehow presume that she was probably a woman.

Hoping that no weirdos would go talk to her, I worried about and kept watch over the woman, just like people had done for me. If she got caught up by anybody, should I intervene?

I used to hate women, yet here I was, concerning myself with one. I might have a misconstrued sense of justice, but I at least had to care.

I was just looking at her for a little while simply for that reason, but the instant that the wind blew strongly, all of my nerves became her captive. Her veil came off. It came off just slightly and I could see her face.

Her golden hair fluttered leniently. Her shapely profile was exposed under the starry sky. This beauty that could be discerned even in the nightly darkness was breathtaking.

It was really just a few seconds’ time and she immediately fixed the veil back on tight, but I had already seen her, so I knew. I knew.

I knew who that was.

Distancing myself from the telescope, I walked unsteadily towards her. Like winged bugs that gathered up to light.

This person literally shone like a lantern in my life. It was fire that wouldn’t disappear, no matter how much time passed. Time only strengthened the flame’s vigor.

That was why, aah, I... I...

“Violet Evergarden... is that you?”

That was why I called to her at that moment, with a shrill voice. As she looked at me, her eyes slowly crinkled, the corners of her lips went up and she smiled at me.

I felt like tearing up at that.

“It has been a while, Master.”

I had dreamed of this.

“Is it really you?”

I had dreamed of this day.

“Yes, Master.”

Always had been.

“Stupid, I’m not your master anymore... I have a name too... You’ve probably forgotten about it, but I... My name is...”

I had dreamed of this day and had always been thinking about what to say if we ever got to meet again.

“Mr. Leon Stephanotis. Is ‘Mr. Leon’ all right?”

If it were under a starry sky with not a single cloud, we could talk about its bare beauty. If it were on a rainy day, we could discuss the mythology related to the constellations.

“Did I mistake it? I have confidence in my memorization skills, but...”

If it were on a night where a once-in-every-two-centuries meteor were to pass by, we could share stories of the past in which we had observed the sky together.

“No... you got it right. You got it... Just ‘Leon’ is fine... Violet, the time you spent with me was so long ago, and yet, you sure... managed to...”

I had dreamed of this. You had no idea, did you, Violet Evergarden?

“You sure managed to remember.”

You were my first love. The first person I fell for. That day was the first time I confessed to someone.

“Leon, do you recall the promise we made?”

I opened the door to courage. I opened it thinking it would be okay even if I got hurt. But instead of hurting me, you accepted it. You broke my love to pieces, but still acknowledged it.

“Yeah.”

I had dreamed of this. Of this moment. You didn’t have to remember it. You could have forgotten what you had said to me. But if nothing else, I wanted to have one more look at you before I died.

“Have you memorized...”

One more time.

“...the names of a few stars?”

I wanted to see you one more time.

Violet Evergarden. I – the sixteen-year-old Leon Stephanotis – was in love with you.

He was in love with you. So was my current self. Now that you were in front of me, I could tell as much, even if I didn’t want to.

The flame inside my chest was saying, “This woman is the one who started the fire.” It told me that you were the woman who burned me up. You had burned me, and you still were. You melted everything that I had locked up within ice. It told me that you were the woman of my fate.

Violet wordlessly nodded in agreement. She nodded like a child. She was happy that I remembered what she had told me – I could tell by the facial expression she was making.

——You used to be so expressionless and doll-like – who was it that changed you so much?

You weren’t a doll anymore now. More like a girl who had someone’s love. You didn’t look like anything but that in my eyes ever since you were with me, though. But now, surely you had someone. This someone had changed you to that point, right?

“Violet,” I said, suppressing the pain of my sweltering chest. “If you have some time, won’t you spend it with me?” I asked.

I was attempting to open the door to courage again. Regardless of what awaited me beyond it, even if I regretted opening it. I asked nevertheless.

You changed me. You made me who I was. You probably didn’t know that. You didn’t have to.

“Yes, by all means.”

And this beautiful woman in front of me, too.

“I had been waiting for a day to come when I inform you about the fruits of my studies.”

Surely, she had also been made by someone.

“Should we ever meet, I had wanted to report them to you, even if you did not remember.”

Envy, affection and attachment ran through my body.

“That is what I was thinking.”

My sixteen-year-old self was screaming. “I was in love with you. I was in love with you. I was in love with you. I’m in love with you. Even now, I still like you,” he shouted.

I no longer had any of the youth and recklessness of those days. However, regarding my love for her, the me from back when I confessed to her was still here.

“I’m sure what I’m gonna say now will trouble you. But would you listen?”

I was still here. That version of me was still inside me.

Violet Evergarden, you...

“You can laugh if you want; you see...”

...to me, you... a woman like you was...

“You were my first love.”

Violet Evergarden, you...

“I still like you. Forgive me.”

To me, you were a woman of the stars.

[elizabeethan]

Watch The Sunlight Fade: 3 / 18

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: You may have noticed a chapter count! It’s subject to change, but I’ve outlined the whole story and have written halfway through chapter 12, so we’re getting there, friends. Reminder to check warnings and tags and message me if you have questions. There will be depictions of violence, domestic violence, very very brief discussions of non-con (kind of) and psychological abuse throughout this story.

Rated M

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~~~~

The door to his apartment slams behind her as she stumbles in, the alcohol in her veins obviously taking over as he helps to steady her. “Easy,” he warns, hand on her waist as he guides her towards the guest room. 

 “You’re not gonna let me stay in bed with you, big guy?” she slurs, giving him a flirty smile. 

 “No, love,” he answers softly. “You need rest.”

 With a giggle, she answers, “I get paid to have sex with people. Shouldn’t you be flattered that I’m soliciting you?”

 “Tink,” he laughs, “I am very flattered. But you need to go to bed.”

 “I can still give you a good time even though I’m drunk, you know,” she promises, letting her fingers dance along the lapels of his jacket. 

 “I know that, love. I just think… perhaps it’s time to… bring this arrangement to a close.”

She pouts, her bottom lip popping out and her brows furrowing. “Something I said?” she asks. 

 With a slight shake to his head, he smiles shyly down at her and brushes a wayward strand of her honey locks out of her eye. “No, but perhaps we can finish this tomorrow morning when you’re sober?”

 Tink shrugs, letting her heavy kids fall closed and turning around to stumble down the hall. “It’s okay,” she says as she finds the doorknob. “I know it’s that blonde girl.”

 “Liv…” he starts, although he isn’t sure where he’s going as he begins to speak. It’s not the blonde girl, not really. Although he felt a connection to her from the moment he saw her, he also knows that his and Tink’s fling is just that: a fling. It can’t last, and while he likes her well enough, he thinks it unfair to continue on with something to which he isn’t fully dedicated. “It’s not you.” 

 She snorts and nods her head lazily, letting it flop a bit too freely on her neck. “It’s not you, it’s me. I get it.” 

 “Hey,” he tries again, giving her a soft smile as he tucks away the same defiant strand of her hair. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that. I’ll always have love for you.”

 “Yeah,” she smiles with a soft blush, her lids looking heavier and heavier with each passing moment. “I love you, too, bud. It was probably a bad idea to sleep with your best friend anyway.” 

 “I’m not sleeping with Robin,” he deadpans, knowing with certainty that it’ll draw a hearty laugh from her. She pushes against his shoulder with more force that she was likely expecting and turns around to open the door to his guest room. 

 “You dolt.” Once she’s in the room, just as she’s about to shut the door behind her, she spins quickly to face him once more. “By the way, you’re a total idiot if you go after her.” 

 “Bloody hell, not you too,” he complains as he scratches behind his ear. 

 “She belongs to Cassidy and you know it. You know what’ll happen if you pursue her.” 

 “Aye, that’s why I have no intention of doing so. Now, go to bed, Olivia.” 

 “Ooh,” she fakes a shudder, “full name; I must've been naughty.” 

 “Aye, you were. Goodnight, love.” 

 “Night, KJ.” 

 He listens to her giggle as she stumbles through the room, one she’s stayed in countless times before. She’s right; they probably never should’ve started their affair in the first place. Sleeping with your best friend is bound to end badly. But they understand each other, each of them here with hardly a choice on whether they stay or go. It isn’t as if they’re being held against their will, but the implication is that they’ll seriously regret it if they try to leave, one way or another. They simply both took comfort in knowing that someone else felt as they did. 

 He’s about to go to bed himself, ready to rid himself of the guilt that came along with the events of the day, but he pauses as he walks by his front door just in time to hear a resounding thud coming from across the hall. He panics and swings his own door open when he hears the terrified cry in response. He heard something earlier today that sounded exactly like that terrified cry. 

 Rushing over to Neal’s apartment, he places his hand on the knob and presses his ear to the door. He doesn’t want to burst in with haste since he has no idea what he actually heard, and the door must be locked anyway. But he can’t help but recall the image of her pressed to the door looking horrified, two knives on either side of her throat. He can’t get the look in her eyes out of his head. 

 There aren’t anymore sounds resonating from the apartment, silence falling over him as he attempts to listen out for signs of trouble. After a moment, all he hears are soft, painful sobs coming from the other side of the door. 

 ~~~~

 It’s surprisingly even more terrifying to be in the shop during the day than it was at night. At least when she was here last night, the shadows kept the frightening details of the space hidden, but now that the sun is up and streaming through the small basement windows, she’s able to see too much. 

 She can see the aged and worn paint on the walls, giving her an automatic and infallible feeling of unease. She can see the decorative weapons proudly displayed on every inch of every wall. She can see the rugged violence on each of the men’s faces so clearly in the sunlight. Being here terrifies her. 

 “Morning, Miss Swan,” Peter greets as Neal leads her into the large meeting room. He’s already sitting at the table waiting for them, Gold at his right and two empty seats to his left. There are several other members at the table as well, and she can’t help but notice how bright Killian’s eyes look in the sun streaming through the windows. “Welcome to your first real family meeting.” 

 The others around the table laugh, everyone but Jones seeming to find his joke about her near death experience to be funny. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” Neal asks in her ear, his voice low and his teeth clearly clenched. 

 She clears her throat and gives Peter the fakest smile she can muster. “Good morning.”

 “That’s a good lass,” he praises, setting free a flock of anxious butterflies in her stomach. “Come sit. We saved you a seat by Neal.” 

 They sit side by side, and it’s becoming easier and easier to question his ranking within the group of men at the table. She finds it impossible to see him as a simple lackey when his name is carved into the table in intricate lettering in front of his chair, directly to the left of Peter's seat at the head. 

 There are talks of their plans, and she gathers some information easily while they seem to go to great lengths to keep other things hidden from her based on the threatening glances Peter doles out from time to time. There’s a trip coming up, and it’s automatically assumed that Neal will be going with Peter and Gold will be staying behind, as if this arrangement was made and agreed upon a lifetime ago. Once the other attendees are determined, Peter turns to face her and gives her a smile. 

 “Now, a job for you, my dear. Neal tells us you have a talent in finding people.” 

 “She can find anyone,” Neal says proudly, referring to her short stint as a bail bondsperson back when she lived in Boston. When she had met Neal after he witnessed her taking down a skip, he took her under his wing and told her she didn’t have to live such a dangerous lifestyle anymore. “Well, almost anyone.” 

 Her stomach flips at his hint; at his willingness to bring up one of the most painful memories she has. She’s great at finding people, but in 25 years, she still hasn’t been able to find her parents. 

 Pan hums. “We can look past a few failed attempts. What we need from you now, Emma, is your skillset to find a certain someone who deserted our cause.”

 She gulps. “You want me to hunt down someone who doesn’t agree with you?” 

 “No love,” he laughs, and Neal’s grip on her hand tightens just a notch. “I want you to find someone who has valuable information and won’t hesitate to hand it over to a rival.” Emma bites her lip in thought, concern likely colored across her face. She hadn’t considered the existence of a rival gang before this moment, and she becomes frightened to think of there being more than one set of men like them. The thought that another gang is out there and considers themselves rivals to The Lost Boys means she’s potentially putting herself in even more danger by becoming associated with them. What will another gang do to the girlfriend of one of their rival’s members, especially a member whom she suspects is higher up in the rankings than he’s letting on? 

 “It’s not lost on me that you’re feeling uncomfortable here, Emma. The tension between you and Neal is perfectly palpable. But I’d implore you to let go of your fears; no one here will harm you. We’re here to protect you. By simply being associated with Neal, you have the protection of everyone in this club. And I’m sure it makes perfect sense that we would expect something of you in return for our unquestioning devotion to your safety.” 

 Although something about his words makes her suspicious, she suddenly feels a sense of strength at his claim that she’s a part of the group now. It’s as if he’s telling her that her thoughts and opinions matter, so she makes a bold choice and speaks up. “Can I clarify something?” she asks. 

 “Of course.” 

 “What are you protecting me from, exactly?” 

 Peter smirks and shakes his head, giving Neal a look that she can’t quite read. “I suppose Neal hasn’t informed you of how dangerous a place this world can be for a woman like you, Miss Swan. Your love for Neal makes you a target, as does Neal’s love for you. By falling for him, you’ve also fallen into our world. And because we’re so devoted to what you have to offer, we will protect you from everyone who may want to hurt Neal.” 

 “Just because I can find people pretty easily?” she asks doubtfully. His explanation isn’t making any sense to her. She can’t rectify in her head how loving Neal can equate to requiring constant protection, especially based on his claim that he’s going to be leaving soon. 

 “No, Emma,” he laughs condescendingly, as if he were talking to a child who couldn’t handle the truth. She wonders if he’s right. “Worry not; all will make sense to you as time goes by. For now, let's get started with your first assignment. Hook, show the lady to her office.” 

 ~~~~

 “Most sites are blocked here,” he explains as he powers up the old desktop, groaning softly as he stands again. “You’ll likely run into trouble if you try to find him on Facebook or anything.” 

 “Why?” she asks, and although she immediately regrets opening her mouth, the look he gives her feels more amused than anything. 

 “Why?” 

 “Um… why are they blocked?” 

 He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and looking away from her once he notices that the computer has booted up. “To keep you out of trouble, I suppose.” 

 She bites her bottom lip, squeezing her fists until she feels the sting of her nails digging into her palm. She isn’t sure that, in the last day since she’s come here, she’s been kept out of trouble at all. She’s been in trouble-- in danger-- since she heard those bikes pulling up behind her and Neal. 

 “Right,” she says softly, sarcastically, and again, she kicks herself for opening her mouth. She wonders what would have happened to her by now if she was with anyone but Jones in this moment. 

 “Love,” he starts, his voice soft and tender, and she almost wonders if he intends to step close to her. Perhaps he means to comfort her. “I’m--” he clears his throat, “If you need anything…” 

 Their eyes meet, and it’s like the first time again. His azure stare bores into her in a way that makes her shudder, but not out of fear this time. She feels seen, understood, and while it’s only been a day since her traumatic greeting from the club, it feels like a lifetime since she’s felt a sense of safety. It feels comforting to meet his gaze, and she suddenly lets her breathing steady and her heart rate settle. “Thank you,” she whispers genuinely. She isn’t sure how she could relay it to him if she does need something, but the way he looks at her tells her that he’ll know. 

 For the first time since she’s been here, her safety appears to be a priority to someone. Relief washes over her and she lets it, despite knowing that it will dissipate the moment he walks out the door.

 ~~~~

 “How’s it goin’ in here, my little worker bee?”

 She looks up from the computer she’s been staring at, met by Neal leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. The dinosaur she’s working on is hardly functioning, most sites she’s tried blocked and inaccessible and the speed at which it loads each page almost painful. After almost a week of working on the assignment they’ve given her, she’s found almost nothing.

 “Hi,” she mumbles, turning back to the screen. All they had given her was a name and a last known location, and she’s struggling to find more.

 “Doing alright?”

 “I can’t find much,” she says. 

 “You’ll find him; you’re smart. I wonder if that’s genetic,” he says with a laugh and a smirk in her direction. She isn’t sure what he means or how to respond, so she simply smiles somewhat awkwardly and moves on. She refuses to let herself wonder if this is another dig at her for being parentless. 

 “It just feels impossible. This guy, Graham… are you sure he even exists?” she jokes. 

 He laughs, but it’s forced and she doesn't detect a genuine smile. “Are you doubting Peter?” 

 Emma looks up at him, meeting his eyes with confusion colored in her own. “No,” she starts, although she isn’t sure if she’s being truthful in her answer. “It’s just…”

 Neal shoves away from the door and slinks closer to her, bending at his knees and squatting until his eyes meet her level. “Ems,” he starts, his hand landing on hers and applying what she thinks is meant to be a comforting amount of pressure. “Don’t start.” 

 “What…?” 

 He groans and leans away from her. “It's not a damn secret that you aren’t happy to be here. I need you to be better about that.” 

 She lets her jaw hang open for a bit longer than she means to, shock taking over her as he confirms what she’s been suspecting since the meeting she attended. “Neal,” she starts, “you’re the one who said you want to get out. You said we could leave after a few weeks.” 

 “And?” 

 “Uh… and… it’s been a week and you don’t seem like you’re… I mean… it seems like you're happy here.” 

 “So what?” 

 “What do you-- so what? You said we were leaving and now it’s like they're your family!” 

 Neal stands quickly, spinning from her in exasperation as he thrusts his hands into his hair. “You’re being so-- stop judging me! What do you even have to complain about?! They’re being nothing but nice to you. You have a home now, I feed you, I love you, we protect you… I don’t get what your damn problem is!” 

 “The knives, Neal!” she shouts, unable to hold back the emotional response to his nonsensical claims. “You threw knives at my head!” 

 There's a loud smack against the desk she sits at, and she’s brought back to the reality of her experience and out of the false sense of control that she let herself believe she had. She has to force herself to move on from the thought that she and Neal are able to have a conversation. When she looks down to where his hand met the surface, she sees his gun held beneath his palm. She pales. 

 “It’s time to move on,” he hisses quietly, his voice taking over the silence of the room. It’s another threat. Another convenient way to show her that he has power over her. That he can take everything away from her, even her life, in a second if she gives him a reason to. “You weren’t in danger, baby,” he says, his voice more soothing this time, drawing from her that feeling again. The feeling that she’s overreacting. “I had it under control, remember?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

 She sighs heavily at the feeling of his lips tracing along her jaw until he reaches her neck. “You did?” she asks weakly. With his sudden change in demeanor, his obvious desire not to make her feel unsafe anymore, she feels something shift between them. 

 “Of course I did; don’t be stupid. You know I did.” 

 It feels good, she lets herself realize. As her eyes slip closed and a soft breath escapes her lips, she makes herself relax into his touch. With her sense of sight cut off, she feels herself giving in to his touch in favor of feeling some sense of relaxation after a week of hypervigilance. His rough stubble scratches at her skin, something she normally doesn’t like, but right now, she doesn’t think she minds too much. With her eyes shut, the rest of the world closed off from her mind, she thinks she could appreciate some stubble. 

 She feels the smooth leather of his sleeve under her fingertips and she likes it. Sure, she’s always thought the leather jackets were sexy, but here and now, something about him in it becomes more appealing. But when his hand creeps up her waist, his touch a bit too rough, too domineering, she flinches. 

 “Shh,” he hisses softly, attempting to soothe her. “It’s alright.” 

 At the sound of his voice, something snaps within her and she stiffens. It sounds wrong, she realizes. “Wait,” she murmurs as his hand creeps under her shirt. 

 He breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

 “I just,” she starts, nervous as he pushes away. “We’re… I mean, we’re here.” She gestures around the room, hopeful that her discomfort at the thought of sleeping with him in this office where anyone could walk in is clear. 

 “Right. So when we get home, you’ll be more than willing?” he asks doubtfully, rolling his eyes. 

 “Neal,” she begs softly, unsure of where she went wrong. She’s unsure of how she could have messed this up when she was the one to express her own discomfort. “Please.” 

 “Please,” he mimics, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ll see you in a week.” 

 With that, confusing words exchanged between them, he’s out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. 

@courtorderedcake​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @stahlop​​​​ @klynn-stormz​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​ @emelizabeth88​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​ @kday426​​​​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​​​​ @captain-emmajones​​​​ @gingerpolyglot​​​​​ @ebcaver​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​​​ @jrob64​​​​​ @onceratheart18​​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​ @swampmedusa​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​​ @dancingnancyy​​​​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @ouatpost​​​​​ @daxx04​​​​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​​​​ @donteattheappleshook​​​​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​​​​ @xsajx​​​​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​​​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​​​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​​​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​​​​ @rapunzelsghosts​​​​​ @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice​​​​​ @batana54​​​​ @sailtoafarawayland​​ @deckerstarblanche​​ @zaharadessert​​ @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Don’t Pray (aka Vader is the menace he was always meant to be during ‘the Purge’ oneshot)

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” the padawan whispered quietly; eyes squeezed tightly shut to block out the world.

The only sound was that of his own hammering heartbeats, hands clasped in a desperate prayer as he kept his head low; curled up in a tight ball with his legs to his chest in the cramped stowaway space behind the ventilator of his former master’s beat up space vessel. When he had docked on Illuna, he had expected the possible company of fellow runaway Jedi apprentices. Instead, he found the embrace of the Dark Side.

The presence that had greeted him so graciously was still palpable, still drawing ever nearer. The dark it brought with it like a sickness, like a plague shutting out any connections to the untainted living Force. Consuming its flame. The light flickering before the tendrils of darkness snuffed it out; successfully smothering it. Swallowing hard; a faint noise penetrated through the steady pulse ringing in his ears.

Artificial, mechanical. Periodic breathing. In, and out.

He felt like a caged animal; trapped as bait; prey left out for the predator approaching. He had been fooled, and now he was paying with his life. Naive, in his desire for company - his longing to be alone no more. He crept further back against the durasteel confines, his side pressed to the outer wall. As far from the tiny hatch to the hidden crawlspace as possible, making himself impossibly small.

Once again, he hoped to reach out with his mind; for help or guidance, he wouldn’t know. Yet, the only thing he could sense as a potential response was the thrumming of that inescapable darkness; an empty void of agony, threatening to grab hold of him and drag him asunder if he failed to stay alert. He toed the line, standing just at the threshold. Just shy of allowing the ill intent to devour him.

The padawan had been under the care of the Jedi Order on Coruscant for as long as he could remember, had been a promising padawan as his master had proudly proclaimed many times. It seemed like a lifetime ago. As if the happy days were but the fading remnants of a fever dream, as if the Empire and its rule was all there had ever been. 

The Empire, and Vader.

Every Jedi he knew was either dead, captured, or lost. Missing without a trace. In hiding, some said. Perished, others whispered. At the hand of Vader, was the common consensus among fast travelling underground sources. The padawan had tried his best to hide, to keep out of sight, to cover up his tracks. For three years, he had been successful. For three years, he had managed to avoid the Jedi killer, and the relentlessness with which the Empire seemed to hunt down and destroy Force users. Align, disappear or die.

He was running out of time.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” he mouthed wordlessly, desperate to mask his hitching breaths and half sobs.

It was freezing.

He remembered the ice cold desert nights, accompanying his master on a week long endeavour hunting for a ancient Jedi artifact. Where had it taken them? Tatooine? Jakku? Geonosis? He couldn’t remember, every desert planet looked the same. Only endless sand dunes, and blistering blood red sun come day. Only starry deep blue skies, and cold nipping at any exposed skin come night.

He’d never forgotten the numbness of his fingers, his breath coming in heated puffs of condensation. He’d never forgotten the uncomfortable prickle of his skin, the chill of his weary, aching bones. How it seeped so deep into his core, that not even the scalding heat of first sunlight promising fire and brimstone could dissolve it.

The breathing.

Steady.

The predator toying with its prey, like a rancor enjoying the chase and dragging it out before pouncing and going in for the kill. Vader must know where he was hidden, must be able to sense his tangible Force signature. His terror.

The paralyzing feeling of torment Vader’s aura radiated rolled off of the man in thick waves; like the tide coming in, like the eye of the storm. Without mercy, without pardon. A force of nature, uncontrollable, unstoppable. Hands trembling, the padawan pressed them to his lips as he continued to mouth the same payer like mantra.

It would be in vain, yet it was the only link that remained to his master. The woman who had been gunned down in cold blood by her own troops, sending him off in a solitary escape pod towards fates unknown before sacrificing herself. She’d taught him the prayer, something to cling to in times of need. In times of fear, of hopelessness. He remembered her gentle brown eyes, her warm smile.

Footsteps.

Heavy, booted footfalls against the durasteel floor. Stalking in a slow, deliberate manner. The temperature seemed to drop for each one, as death traveled on swift wings ever faster.

The padawan could feel the stinging heat of salty tears behind his eyes, could feel them welling up at the corners of his eyes. Could taste their salt, smell his own fear. Shame accompanied the terror. His master’s act of self sacrifice had landed him stranded on an outer rim scrap station, only vaguely directed towards hostile but life sustaining planets where more Jedi may be in hiding; aided by a good natured sympathizer. Planets he’d never even heard of. People whose faces he would never know again, whose faces he had already forfotten as they blurred together. He had found none, no one to help him. No one to guide him, no one to come to his rescue now. He was alone, and he would die alone.

Only then did it truly sink in that he wasn’t going to leave this ship alive.

“I can sense you, child.”

A deep, booming voice.

Filtered through a vocabulator, it came off eerie and uncanny. Devoid of any scrap of human emotion; monotone and matter of fact. Loud, direct, and frank. Short and concise. How many others like him had met such a fate, the padawan wondered. How many others had perished at the hand of Vader? How many more would there be? Were there even any Force wielders left in the Galaxy for Vader to sniff out and execute? The age of the order was gone, why keep exterminating the few stragglers left behind? They could do no harm, make little noise.

“I can sense your fear,” the voice added after a moment's pause; and despite the same inhuman diction, there seemed to be something spiteful to the words.

The padawan had never known evil.

He and his master had taken down wild beasts, droid armies; they had even faced off against a stray misled Dark Side user. The droids had been man made machines, little more than gun fodder. The animals had followed only their hunger and ravenous nature, desperate to eat or be eaten. Lylacs, loth-wolves, rancors engineered to hunt. The Dark Side user had been conflicted, led astray by corrupt practices, as his master had put it.

This was different.

Vader appeared to be content, in a sense. No, perhaps not quite content as there seemed to be little joy or excitement to find in his Force signature. It was empty, a nothingness. Like a hole in the fabric of the Force itself, like someone had cut a piece out of a tapestry where only cold, and suffering could prevail.

Suffering; so unadulterated that it made the padawan’s body flinch and twitch with its shared torment. Vader was like a phantom, like a wraith; like a dead man walking. His aura revealed that he had nothing to lose, nothing to gain. No compassion, no forgiveness. No use in pleading, no use in begging.

A tear escaped the corner of the padawan’s eyes, rolling red hot down his stricken, pale face. The suffocating feeling of Vader’s presence sucked the air out of his lungs, making him feel lightheaded and short of breath. The steps slowed, calculating their path meticulously until they came to a sudden halt mere inches away from the trapdoor and its hatch. There came a protesting creaking of durasteel, of metal giving way to an unseen, powerful hand. A metallic shriek, a cringe and a whine as it began to bend to Vader’s will. The first beams of bright, fluorescent lights spilled in flickering patterns through the cracks torn open before the trapdoor was unceremoniously ripped off its hinges and flung across the cramped space of the vessel’s interior.

The padawan daredn’t open his eyes - the mechanic breathing was no longer muffled by  a thin wall of durasteel; the thick aura of the Dark Side crashing over him like, biting and stinging at his nerve endings. Drowning him, as they left him overwhelmed, vulnerable and pitiful.

It hurt to breathe; hurt to think, his stomach churning and his throat constricting no matter how much air he attempted to gulp down. His lips moved on autopilot, still wording that same pathetic prayer but his voice had long since been silenced. There was no one to save him. No one to take his hand.

The tendrils of a twisted, warped, subjugated shadow of the Force the padawan knew as his ally burnt as they pierced his skin; invisible but unyielding. Like a million icy daggers, like sharp needles or broken glass. Another warm tear fell from his eyes, this time leaving a searing trail in its wake against his frost bitten cheek. He trembled when it dripped off his chin.

“You cannot hide from me, child. Your path ends here. There is no escape,” said the voice, so void of sympathy and remorse that it seemed inconceivable.

Were it not for the Dark Side, and the tainted, perverted use of the Force that Vader was guilty of; the padawan would have thought him to be fully inhuman. Rumours said Vader was once a man, now cloaked in a tar black suit of armour. Some said Vader was the creation of a malicious Sith Lord, calling upon mystical powers to build the perfect, loyal servant. Others said Vader may have once been a Jedi; a Jedi who’d fallen to the Dark Side in pursuit of power, and riches. How could a figure whose very existence seemed to serve as a harbringer of death ever have been live? How could a presence such as Vader’s ever have belonged to anything but a ruthless monster?

The padawan’s master had called many animals and creatures ‘monsters’. Some would deem Vader a savage beast, desperate for blood to quench his own thirst while they cowered in fear at the very whisper of his name. As if acknowledging his existence might conjure him. Yet, an animal would only follow its own basal needs and instincts; like the krayt dragons, or the lylaks, or the rancors. They were not monsters, they were simply part of the natural order. Predators necessary in a symbiotic cycle with their prey. Likening them to Vader was no fair comparison. Vader was sentient, aware of his actions, and committing heinous acts nonetheless. Purposefully, knowingly.

Animals were no monsters.

Vader was.

His eyes were still stubbornly clenched shut, perhaps seized up with terror as the frightened padawan cowered.

Still, they began to twitch little by little, opening as if that unseen hand guided by the Force was prying them open bit by bit. As if they were being peeled back, his resolute power of will beginning to wane. The padawan desperately attempted to keep them closed, to fight back. It was futile, as his watery eyes were uncovered against his will. Unable to blink, unable to stay blissfully unaware of the exterior that accompanied the foreboding phantom. His executioner. 

In a snapping, jerking motion - the boy’s head was rapidly twisted sideways by the same invisible pull. The hold on his lithe, malnourished body was so strong, that the motion tossed him like a rag-doll as he was yanked out of the tiny crawlspace. He cried out in pain when his knee was torn open, by the jutting edges of one of the ventilator system’s metallic fans. Warm blood wet through the fabric of the padawan’s pants, the tang of iron stinging in his nostrils. Nauseating.

Tumbling haphazardly across the narrow walkway, the padawan whimpered as he momentum had him rolling around until he slammed forcibly into nearest cabinet. A nightmare come to life, he wrapped his uncooperative arms around himself to shield himself from the bitter cold, from the hatred, the rage, the ire. 

It did him no favours, the sharp pinpoints and tendrils of the Dark Side burrowing into his chest like the fangs of a loth-wolf. Despite the struggle, the padawan found himself crawling to his knees, ignoring the searing pain of his gashed knee as if compelled to do so by some sort of beckon, taunting and mesmerizing in its lethal promise. For a brief moment, he thought he could hear his master’s familiar voice calling him.

The abyss lay ahead.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” the padawan croaked in a broken act of defiance.

“Your prayers are of no use.”

Then, he raised his head and his glassy eyes were set upon Vader. Frozen in place, as if fixed by the phantom’s own stare concealed behind the lenses of a black mask. Death in the flesh. Unkind. Unjust. Promising pain everlasting, overpowering.

Overwhelming, unbearable.

Inevitable.

[lumos-solemn]

Potty & Wheezy

Summary : Harry Potter has kissed Ginny Weasley, the sister of his best friend and when the rumors spread about Harry Potter kissing a Weasley, People couldn't help but wonder how did they not see that coming considering Harry Potter always hang out with Ronald Weasley. {Hinny}

Before your Read : This drabble is set in an alternate universe where Harry is just a normal teenage wizard who is friends with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger and is doing his sixth year at Hogwarts. He is neither the boy who loved nor the chosen one.

**********************************************

"Ha..Harrryy...!!", Ginny's hoarse voice ringed in Harry's ears as he trailed down her neck peppering soft kisses there.

"Hmm..", He hummed in response as he stood straight and caught her lips again before pulling her more into him if that was possible. Gosh, She missed her! With Ron hanging out with him all the time, They scarcely had some time to spent alone. All those quick pecks he received when he is alone for a second didn't do any good on him.

"Haa..rry..Stopp..", Ginny pulled away as Harry groaned. She looked at him and saw his eyes full of desire and felt guilty.

"I have to leave..!!", She spoke as if getting angry on herself.

"What? Why..?", He asked frustration clearly visible on his face but still holding her tightly in his arms. "Ron won't be back any time soon. And Hermione's in library."

"No..!!I have to study. Its O.W.L.S. Hermione has arranged a time table for me and I am supposed to see her right now!", She sighed.

Harry was really getting angry now. They scarcely spent time together since he asked her out during the first weeks of his 6th year. Since, James and Lily had to go for a secret mission, Harry spent most of his summer in the burrow and kind of developed an odd friendship with Ginny especially because of her Quidditch skills. Not that, they weren't friends before. But his feelings for her were entirely elder brotherly till that summer. He always saw her as his best friend's little sister. But as she started spenting more time with him by playing Quidditch, he couldn't help but notice how his heart beated faster when she is near or how he felt goosebumps when she smiles at him. After so many negotiations about considering his feelings, He finally found nerve to ask her out when they got an alone time.

"We hardly get to spent time together! You cannot do this when we finally find some time alone.", He tried to keep his anger in control not ready to ruin the moment.

"We would have if you just found the nerve to tell my stupid brother about us!", Ginny spat back. It was clear she was frustrated too. He wanted to tell Ron but he was afraid of risking their friendship.

"After seeing his reaction when you were dating Michael? I don't think so!", Harry spoke.

Ginny sighed, "Its different. Ron never liked him. But you! You are is best mate-"

"And how will he feel when he finds out his best mate has been snogging his sister all this while behind his back?", He asked.

"So you are never going to tell him that? We have to do this for our whole lifetime?", Ginny didn't even try to hide her anger. Harry knew Ginny's temper well enough to know that it is not to meddle with.

"No..No..I will..I will tell him tomorrow. Okay?", He asked softly and saw Ginny smiling at him too.

"Anyhow, I have to leave now Harry! Hermione must be waiting for me.", She spoke sadness definitely visible on her voice.

Harry nodded and she turned to give him one last kiss before leaving. The moment her lips touched his, Harry felt the world spinning. It was always like this. She can make him go wild just with a small kiss and he didn't complain.

"Potty and Wheezy...!!Ehhee..Kissie Kissie...!!", They jumped apart hearing the voice and found Peeves hovering above them with a smug expression.

"PEEVES...!!!!", Harry never felt more hatred towards Peeves than now. Why does everyone want to ruin his moment?

"Harry, I am leaving!", Ginny said and he saw her leave with a swish of her hair before adjusting her dress one last time. Harry let his shoulder fell and walked towards his common room. He saw Peeves zooming out muttering something which he didn't bother to listen. Ron wouldn't be back from his detention. And Hermione must be waiting for Ginny in the library. Sulking he approached the fat lady, "Balderdash!", He said and she swung open.

He walked into the room and saw, to his amusement, Hermione sitting on her usual spot with some parchments in her hand.

"Hermione?", Harry called her out and she looked up from the parchment. He was about to ask about Ginny when he suddenly remembered he shouldn't be so stopped himself and fell on the chair near her.

"Where have you been Harry?", She asked.

Harry looked at her, trying to find a convincing lie, "Huh..? Ahmm..Just taking a stroll. Nothing!", He tried to lie. Though she seemed not really satisfied, she asked, "Have you seen Ginny? I asked her to come so that so that we can study. Her O.W.L.S are nearing!",

"No..No..She must be in the library then if you asked her to come for studying!", He tried to sound innocent and it seemed Hermione took his suggestion.

"Right! Okay Harry. See you later.", She stood up taking the parchments and left.

Harry was sitting alone there. He saw some of his classmates and a few other students sitting there completing homework and chatting. Harry too took his essays thinking of completing it but nothing came into his mind except him kissing Ginny in a lone place with no one to disturb. So, He put away his essays and decided to go to bed though it is a little early. Also, he have to find a way to tell Ron about him the next day.

The sun was bright and Harry struggled to open his eyes as the sunlight peeped into the room. It is Sunday and they had no classes. Harry's hand travelled to his bedside table to find his glasses and put it on. He finally managed to sit straight and saw Ron already sitting looking like just woke up.

"Gummong..!", Harry muttered yawning and stretching himself.

"Good Morning!", Ron said back.

"How did the detention go?", He asked remembering the previous day.

"Couldn't be worse!", Ron said sulking.

"Why? What happened?"

"I had to arrange old stacks of files with Filch Harry! How can that possibly go fine?"

Harry fought back a grin seeing his expression and got out of the bed followed by Ron.

When they reached the great hall, There was a whole lot of murmuring. People were looking at them and was giggling. Ron and Harry exchanged some glances and shrugged not having any idea what was going on. They settled themselves on the Gryffindor table when they saw Hermione coming towards them. She finally took a seat beside Ron and smiled brightly at them.

"Is there any new matter going on?", She asked observing their surroundings and seeing people murmur about it.

Ron shrugged helping himself with some toast and Harry spoke, "No idea! It must be some really good one seeing People murmur like this."

Hermione nodded and then she looked again, "Harry! I think it has something to do with us. They are looking at us and giggling!", She pointed out and when Harry and Ron looked around, they couldn't help but feel a little conscious about themselves.

"Buthwatvedn", Ron spoke, his mouth full of food and when Hermione looked at him pointly, he gulped it hard and spoke, "But what have we done?"

"I don't know! There must be something!"

Harry saw Ginny moving past them and saw her giving him a mischievous smile which confused him more. He saw her taking a seat a little away from them and Luna accompanied her.

They saw Dean and Seamus coming to them with a smug expression and plopped themself beside them. "Congragulations..!!", They said looking at him and Ron and both gave a confused smile at them.

"I have always wondered this possiblity but was never sure!", Dean said and looked at Harry mischievously.

"We are so happy for you Bro! But try to keep things low, you know..we are sharing the dormitory too!", Seamus spoke sniggering.

Both Harry and Ron shared a look! Hermione looked between them and then her eyes suddenly widened as she clasped a hand to her mouth.

Harry looked at her, "What? What's going on?", He said looking at them.

"What do you mean to keep it low?", Ron asked following Harry.

"Harry? Ron? Is it..is it true?", Hermione asked them quietly choosing the words cautiously.

Harry was going frustrated, "What is true? What's going on?"

"You and Ron?", Hermione spoke after a while looking at him and Ron.

"Me and Harry what?", Ron asked who is clearly offended by People's behaviour.

"Uhm.....You..both.. dating?", Hermione asked.

It took some time for Harry and Ron to sink in what she was saying and the moment it did, Both broke into laughter much into the confusion of the other three.

"Me and Ron?", Harry asked in between laughter.

"Seriously?", Ron asked following him.

"Who put that idea into your head?", Harry asked.

"Some fifth year Ravenclaw told me. You guys were kissing yesterday!", Dean said and Harry who was drinking water splattered the whole water into his plate.

"What?", He asked looking at them.

"Well, I heard something like that when I was going to library last night. Peeves were shouting something like Potty and Wheezy kissie and all. I thought I misheard it then.", She said looking between them.

Harry had an idea what is going on and tried to find a convincing lie but his mind was blank.

"So you guys were not?", Seamus asked looking at them.

"No...!! Its rubbish. I was at detention with Filch yesterday. How can I kiss Harry?", Ron asked.

"So the whole students are thinking we both are a couple now?", Harry asked.

"Yeah, It seems so!", Dean shrugged.

"But..But why did you think like that? Me and Harry? Have you lot lost your senses?"

"Well, You cannot blame them for that!", Seamus said.

"What do you mean?", Harry asked.

"Hmm..You and Ron were best friends since first year. You both are always together. You won't let anyone say bad about each other. So...You know?", Dean shrugged!

"What? But Hermione's also always with us. Why did she not in this?", Ron asked.

"Who said she is not in there? You three are always a piece of gossip in this school, mate!", Seamus chuckled. "Its just that you guys don't know it!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other and then at Hermione who was thinking something so hard! "Hermione?", Ron called her out.

"Where are you?", Harry asked.

"Huh? Nothing..I was just wondering if Harry and Ron weren't kissing"- Ron snorted- "then Why would Peeves say like that?", She asked and Harry's face went white as ghost. This is it. There's no escape. Hermione will find out now and soon will Ron. He felt his throat damaged. Hermione looked at Harry and maybe seeing his face like that, her eyes widened and she clasped her hand to her mouth looking at him.

Ron looked between them and then suddenly his expression changed as if someone dropped a bomb on his head. Harry looked at Ron trying to make an apologetic face but Ron was sitting still.

"Ron?", Harry called out somehow managing to find his voice. Maybe sensing it, Ginny came towards them and sat beside Harry. Ron's eyes travelled from Harry to Ginny. Dean and Seamus, who only grasped the thing now, looked at them wide eyed. Through the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Hermione sitting shocked looking at him and Ginny, her hand still clutched over her mouth.

"Ron..?", Harry called him out once more hoping to receive at least a groan but he was still looking at them as if calculating something in his mind so hard.

"Oh..Come off it Ron. I am old enough to decide my boyfriends!", Ginny intervened fed up of the drama and that finally knocked some sense into him as he spoke, "Since when?", He asked looking at Harry. Hermione was looking with fear now.

"Start of the term..", Harry answered. "But I can explain! I tried to think of every possiblity in which I can stop myself from looking her in that way and there were many, one of it, she being your sister but I couldn't. I really like her. I was going to tell you this today. I had no idea this will turn this way!", Harry tried to explain.

"Ron, You can't possibly blame Harry or me. And also you can't find any problem with this. He is your best mate!", Ginny tried to reason.

"But I didn't say anything!", Ron said his lips slowly twitching into a smile. Harry looked at him confused but suddenly heard a loud gasp and saw Hermione has finally removed her hand from her mouth and is beaming gleefully.

"That's alright Mate..!I kind of saw this coming!! But not this soon though!", He smiled.

"What?", Ginny asked in disbelief. "So, You are not gonna point out the different scenarios in which this can turn bad?"

Ron looked at her incredulously, "No..Hey! Harry is my best mate! Why should I say those?"

"So why did you behave like that?", Harry asked not being able to contain his smile.

Ron smirked, "Nothing gives you more pleasure than taking the Mickey out of your friend!"

Harry laughed and turned to Hermione who was literally jumping out of her seat and he couldn't help but chuckle at her, "Ooh..This is so exciting..!!", She said as she hugged Ginny.

"Congrats Harry!", Seamus said followed by Dean.

"Gotta go! But must say, You and Ron would have made a great couple though!", Dean winked at them and left leaving Ron and Harry looking at each other before bursting into laughter.

"Ron, What did you mean you saw this coming?", Ginny asked in between and Harry too looked at Ron curiously.

"Well, For the starter, You couldn't take off your eyes off my sister due to which you received 2 bludgers back to back during our practice!", Ron said and Harry felt himself going red while the others laughed off.

"Aww...!", Ginny said before kissing Harry softly.

"Whoa..whoa..!!", Ron's voice broke them apart. "I am alright with this and all okay? But not before me!"

Harry chuckled as he raised his eyebrows enquiringly at him. "How will you feel if I kissed Hermione in front of you? Huh?", Ron asked making Hermione go pink.

"Well, I don't mind you kissing Hermione which I think you should've done long before but yeah, not before me!", Harry winked at both of them and stood up before running taking Ginny's hand leaving a stunned Ron and Hermione. Both determined not to look at each other!

[bansept]

Sacrifice

SO, this is angst based on an episode from TVD, which I used to watch. I had in mind almost recreating an episode but then thought “nahhh” So at least I tried to innovate!

This is a one shot, so no updates after that because I love making people suffer, obviously.

Slight OOCness, because it’s a rather dark world.

TRIGGER WARNING : Major character death + mental issues that are camouflaged but not that much

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One does not decide their fate. You are born from your mother, grow and meet people, if fate is merciful, you meet the one you were created to love. You spend a lifetime with them, you learn how to love, how to care, how to live. You get to understand what it is like to choose for the first time. And, after a life worth of adventures, stories and feelings, you are put to rest.

Once upon a time Ichigo and Orihime believed in this reality. Believed that life could be harsh, but they would climb out of the pit of darkness to reach the sunlight, and enjoy it.

.

.

.

Like all days, it was sunny. In their minds, the vast grass filed in front of them was always illuminated, the light breeze always brought new and known scents to their noses, and they could feel whole again. They could feel the warmth of the Sun, the touch of the other on their hand. The whisper of the wind caressing their ears.

In their inner world, all was alright. All was safe and loving.

The exterior world was corrupted by uncaring people. It was dark and messy and cruel, nothing good could ever come out of it.

Especially people.

Their families had left, stolen away by the frightening death that loomed over each human being. From the father, whose childish behavior always pushed Ichigo out of his skin to the sisters and the brother that loved their sibling in the purest way possible. The sisters looked out for their brother, asking for his protection and his support. The brother watched over his sister, calming her when the world was latching onto her, pulling her out of the black waters of her mind.

But now, all this happiness they could vaguely remember had been taken away. Vanished, disappeared in thin air. Where did they go? Where were they all now? In the sky or in the dirt?

There were no such things as an answer.

“Let’s get going, Orihime.”

The rough voice brought another wide smile on her face. She felt his hand hold hers tenderly, and nodding her head, Orihime followed him docily, letting him lead the way, like he always did.

The world was upside down : debris of buildings here and there, some gigantic from a building or a skyscraper, others small enough to step on. Blocks of stones and piles of wood and iron littered the floor, waiting for more scavengers to dig in them, try to find what was essential to live.

But living was not possible anymore. Not after bombs were dropped on Japan. It was said it was that way all over the world, but no one could say for sure. Was it true the world was destroyed by a radioactive menace? Was it true that the peoples of the Earth were reduced to nothing but wandering all day long to survive for another day?

Orihime could never know. Her world was a golden field with a orange-haired man sitting next to her.

Ichigo talked to her. Explained what he saw, what he felt, what was happening aroudn them. Anything he knew Orihime would love, he described it to her, from a rare seagull to a tiny sprout on the ground, trying its hardest to get some energy. Many times, Ichigo would snark a remark, something along the lines of “it’s fighting to exist, just like us.”. Orihime could do nothing but hold his hand tighter.

For months now, they walked the day to stop at night, cuddling closer no matter the heat of the weather, holding the other close. Closing her eyes didn’t change a thing : she was still in the field with him. She was still watching his traits shift to something relaxed and she was still amazed by him.

Ichigo shifted closer to her, taking the light bag off her back to let her poor spine breathe a little.

“What are you thinking about?”

She smiled. What an obvious question.

“You.”

She heard him chuckle, the sound soft.

“Ah, even in this situation, you keep on saying that.”

Orihime felt his other hand on the top of her head, caressing the not so souple hair, pushing a few strands out of her face, not that it mattered anyway. She didn’t say anything, only placed her chin against his hand.

Even in this situation, where the world she couldn’t see anymore was destroyed, their families and friends dead, Orihime would still be strong enough to smile. If it was fate to live, and if things happened for a reason, then all the suferring of today would vanish tomorrow, and they would meet again in the golden fields.

.

.

.

When two people travel together in a hostile place, it has its advantages and its inconvenients.

The first being only worrying about one person. No time wasted thinking about a potential individual that got lost. And with Orihime not being able to walk two steps alone, it was easy to stick together. The food, found in a deserted cafeteria or an abandoned house, was also easy to share.

The second... Their number was low, and if they encountered any threat, it was hard to outrun it, or to fight it. Orihime was Ichigo’s number one priority. Always had, always will be. But that only pushed him deeper into the danger.

And it was during the night they would feel the weakest. Ichigo could stand watch, not Orihime. Orihime could sleep, not Ichigo.

When one dreamed of the same place with the same person, the other was haunted by the nightmares of the reality laid bare in front of him. Destroyed houses, rotting corpses, violence in each corner.

One does not decide their fate. They are born with protection in their names, and it is their way of life to live by it. It is not their choice what they see or what they think.

He can’t help but think he should travel alone, leave Orihime to a safer place and come back to her once in a while with what she needs.

But if thinking is not up to him, then feeling is.

He can’t bear it. The thought of letting her be alone. Without him. He aches the moment he thinks of leaving her. So he doesn’t.

He aches the moment he sees her white eyes focus on nothing but her last memory of him, of them, in the field near a barn they used to like.

He aches when he knows how much she must suffer from being stuck in one place.

But because he feels and because those feelings lead him, he keeps them going. In a way, he started to believe fate would be kind after it is cruel. Maybe they will get better soon.

Until he knows they won’t.

Scavengers, unknown men and women, hiding behind old rusted glasses and torn rags encounter them one day. Without any discussion, any word, they attack them, they push them to the ground to rob them. Ichigo wants to fight, but Orihime grabs his hand, his arm, his body to have him close.

The golden fields in her head are starting to burn.

The foreigners attach them far away from each other. Ichigo is near an old electric pole, tied smartly, no chances of him getting out without getting injuried. Orihime on her side, she is told to sit near the fire, because what can a blind girl do? She can’t run, she can’t escape, she can’t help.

The golden fields in her head are burning now.

Ichigo watches her cry, clear tears coming out of foggy eyes, her head tilted to the sky, not daring to speak. And he sense she’s lossing it.

Not because they are seperated by a few meters. Not because he’s not holding her hand. Because she, who couldn’t see the world, couldn’t perceive how evil it had turned, encoutered it by herself. And the only safe place, physically and mentally, was getting ripped away from her.

Ichigo tried to fight his bounds. He tried to have this tiny shape of light and hope in his mind, that the day he would have fate on his side was here. That he could free himself, and her, and go back home.

It lasted for hours. Her crying, his pulling. Both were silent, one to not bring attention, the other too shocked and petrified to move.

Maybe it was luck, maybe it was fate, but they managed to get out. Ichigo shuffled his hands out of the ropes, pretending to sleep as a guard looked down on him. He turned around and the orange-haired man stood up abruptly to wrap an arm around his neck, suffocating him enough to make the lad fall unconcsious on the ground.

.

.

.

But there was nothing he could now.

The fire of reality and fate had burned the golden fields.

There was no Sun. No wind. No gentleness, no caress. The orange wasn’t just a mass of hair next to her anymore. It was all she could feel, from the sky to the clouds. The ground was dark and bloody, the piece only shrinking into chaos.

She couldn’t walk anymore. She couldn’t run, or hide, or talk or anything! All was gone! All she hoped, all she yearned, all she saw was gone!

Even the hand on her arm, the same as always, the same touch and same pressure on her skin, it was different, and it was bad.

Everything hurt. Nothing was bearable anymore.

“Orihime, please... We gotta go now, or they’ll get to us...”

“I don’t want to move.”

He stopped pulling her arm, instead cupping her face. She couldn’t feel his eyes on her own. All was gone.

“What? Hime, come on, now is not the best time...”

“Why... Why are we doing this?”

Ichigo didn’t answer, nor did he asked what she was talking about. He only hissed an insult. Orihime’s void eyes blinked, and she waved her hands to him, messily touching his sides. It was wet.

“I don’t want... I can’t have this anymore! I can’t get going like this! And neither can you, Ichigo... So please... Let’s go home.”

Her hand pushed against the fabric of his vest in a relfex to stop the bleeding he had gotten from the guard. She had heard some fighting by Ichigo’s side, but he had assured her he was fine.

Liar.

“Orihime...”

“Don’t tell me can’t!” Tears kept spilling, getting in her mouth, on the side of her nose, dropping on the floor. “I’m tired, tired of doing all this! I’m tired of suffering everyday, of knowing you suffer too! What kind of life could we have here! Huh? Nothing!”

“... I know.”

“I just want to be home... Just want to feel the sun on my face again...”

A little click was heard, and Orihime closed her eyes, lips curling into a smile. Ichigo breathed out, voice shaking but calm and determined.

“... We’re going back home. To Sora, to Yuzu and Karin. To my father and mother.”

Ichigo pulled them close, sliding a cold and hard gun in Orihime’s hand, their foreheads brought together to feel warmth.

“I can’t wait to meet them... And so that I can talk to Sora about you. He’ll be glad.”

“I’m nervous... I hope he’ll like me.”

The two chuckled, and Orihime leaned closer to gently kiss him on the lips.

“He will.”

One does not decide their fate. You are born from your mother, grow and meet people, if fate is merciful, you meet the one you were created to love. You spend a lifetime with them, you learn how to love, how to care, how to live. You get to understand what it is like to choose for the first time. And, after a life worth of adventures, stories and feelings, you are put to rest.

Once upon a time Ichigo and Orihime believed in this reality. Believed that life could be harsh, but they would climb out of the pit of darkness to reach the sunlight, and enjoy it.

They were not always surrounded by light. They were not always surrounded by warmth.

They knew they wouldn’t be in the sky or in the ground.

They knew where their place was.

They knew where the sunlight was, the same place they would feel warmth, always.

There were two loud bangs. One soft thud, as their bodies fell together.

Then laughter, the golden fields perfect again, with the new Sun, the new wind, the new caresses, and the joy of meeting new faces.

Now, and forever, they were put to rest, and fate would never be cruel again.

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I’m not certain that people will like it, since I wrote that in an hour and with a loud loud mind.

I hope you guys do not hate me too much haha

[harolinastyles]

The Honeymoon

So finally, a little late, this is my piece for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that the lovely @oh-honey-styles, @andwhenshesays and @for-fucks-sake-h organised. For those of you who read my writing on Wattpad it's basically a peek at Harry and Jessi's honeymoon. Thank you to everyone who reads this. I hope you enjoy! x

Breathe me in, breathe me out, they don't think that they could ever go without.

Rated M for Mature. 4.5K words.

I stumble out from inside our private honeymoon villa and the bright sunlight stings my eyes. I flip down the sunglasses I’m using as a makeshift hairband - a habit I’ve picked up from my husband - so they shield my gaze. Our two weeks here are quickly coming to an end and if it wasn’t for our daughter waiting back home, I don’t think you could drag me away from here. We’ve barely left the confines of the villa but every detail has been perfect, from lazy breakfasts in bed, to curling up with Harry while he reads me poetry, some from books and some that he’s written himself, those are my favourites.

“Ah, there he is,” I whisper. Zeroing in on my target lounging on a giant heart-shaped pool float. He looks so still and peaceful that I wonder if he’s asleep but he flips the page in his book softly and my insides do a little somersault, I’d missed him during my nap - a consequence of the teeny tiny little one growing inside me. My feet tiptoe down the steps as I make my way closer. 

He looks every inch like a tempting meal and I’m dying to taste him - another consequence of my pregnancy. Maybe not. He always looks like a snack. His hair is wet, indicating he’s recently been for a swim and his skin seems to shimmer under the sun's rays. His chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm and my gaze moves lower. The muscles in his abdomen are taught and defined and the tips of my fingers tingle as I imagine brushing them over his warm skin. 

Something between a gasp and a moan leaves my throat as I spot the white, wet boxers, almost see through as they cling to every glorious inch of him. 

“Mmm… you’re alive then?” The low rumble of his voice has me attempting to discretely rub my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building there. “Thought I would have to spend the entire day by myself.” The accompanying pout on his face would usually be adorable but combined with the facial hair he’s so proud of growing all I can think about is how much I want his mouth. Hell, I want all of him. Immediately. 

“Don’t be dramatic. I’ve only been gone a couple of hours.” I grin as I sit myself down on the edge of the pool, beside his glass of tequila. 

“Feels like a lifetime!” The cheeky glint in his gorgeous green eyes make me shuffle on my bum. He quirks his eyebrows at me when I pick up the amber liquid and inhale deeply before sitting it back down. “I could make you a virgin mojito if you’re thirsty.” He offers. 

“Just like the smell of it. Reminds me of you, of stolen little kisses, moments just for us while you work a room.” I have learned how to share my new husband with his many fans and admirers and the fact that he always makes sure I’m having a good time definitely helps. 

“C’mere,” he growls. He curls his pointer finger in a beckoning motion but I shake my head. 

“You come here!” I tease my fingers up my thighs and open them wide so he can see that I have no underwear on before quickly closing them again. 

“Fuck!” His Adam's Apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard and a loud giggle escapes my mouth as he paddles toward me, looking like a man who can definitely give me everything I desire right now. 

I move my head from side to side as he tries to make his way to the edge of the pool; I reach over and wrap my fingers around the pointy end of the heart and pull him over so he’s floating in front of me. 

“Now what?” He smirks, sitting up on the float while his hands grab for my knees. 

I giggle as I wag my finger at him, “Lie down!” 

He blows out a huge puff of air as he sinks back onto the red heart, folding his arms across his chest and letting a pout rest on his pink lips. 

“What’s the matter, H? Don’t you want to play with me?” 

“That’s what I was trying to do…” his voice trails off as his green eyes fix on my fingers, slowly tracing up my thighs. 

“You know, you’re pretty adorable when you get all huffy,” I smirk. I lean forward, making sure he gets a good look down his shirt to see that I’m not wearing a bra either. He lets out a moan as I softly scratch his thighs and I feel like throwing myself on him instantly. 

“I’m not adorable. I’m rugged, handsome, sexy as hell.” He chuckles gently as I hook my hands under his knees and pull him closer. I drop his legs down on either side of my body and hope that’s enough traction, so he won’t float away. 

“You look really shiny.” I place my hands gently against his swallow tattoos.

“Mmm… I might have put on a little too much sun cream.” His bashful smirk makes my heart race. “That’s what happens when you leave me to my own devices.” 

I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from my chest. He’s such a dork. “Sort of reminds me of the lights up music video.”

“Ha. You hate that video.” He scoffs. 

“Hate watching other people with their hands on what is mine,” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I slowly run my fingers down his toned body before stopping just below his butterfly.

“Yours huh?” he teases. 

“Mine!” I reply while confidently pointing towards my wedding ring. “Legally binding.”

“I like it when you get all possessive, Mrs Styles. Officially making you mine was the best day of my life so far, apart from the day Robi was born.” 

“I’m still not used to hearing you call me that.” My hands inch a little lower. 

“I love saying it. Mrs Styles. Mrs Styles. Mrs Styles.” His fingers wrap around my wrists before I can react, and he effortlessly holds me in place. “Now, Mrs Styles, are you gonna let me fuck you or are you planning to tease me all fucking day?” 

“You know, our three-year-old displays more patience than you!” I snap, well aware of the fact that between his hands on my wrists and his legs either side of mine, he has me trapped. No getting out unless I can make him slip up, lose his focus. 

“Patience? Is that what you expected me to have when you came out here and gave me a perfect view of your panty-less pussy?” His words hurtle at me in a low growl and I no longer care who is in control, I just want him to take me. “You’re very lucky I haven’t bent you over that sun lounger yet…” he trails off as a whimper leaves my throat, “is that what you want from me? Does my pretty little wife want me to pound into her so hard she can’t walk straight? Claim her as mine? Mark her skin? Would you like that, baby?” His green eyes have darkened considerably and I can tell from the strain in his white boxers that he’s just as needy as I am. 

“Yes. Please, Harry?” I beg. Before I can process that he’s let me go, he’s climbed out of the pool and places a hand on my shoulder. He holds his other hand out in front of me and when I grab on he practically hauls me up off the ground. Despite his urgency his hand holds mine carefully as he pulls me toward the sun lounger which is more like an outdoor four poster bed. He stops at the bottom of the piece of furniture and pulls me towards him. His hands trail up my thighs as he presses his hardened length against me. He drags my clothing with him as his hands slide over my bum, giving a hard squeeze which sends shivers all over my body. “I love this arse,” he teases while giving it a playful tap.

I reluctantly take a step back from him and hold my hands above my head so he can easily remove the t-shirt. 

“Now, who’s impatient?” He chuckles while effortlessly pulling the fabric over my head and tossing it away with a careless flick of his wrist. “Beautiful,” he whispers. His eyes drink me in like fine wine and I moan needily as his fingers trail from my collarbone, over the swell of my breast and down my stomach, pausing imperceptibly where the beginnings of my baby bump has started to show. His fingers dawdle where the edge of my panties would be and I try to wriggle higher. 

“Harry…” I murmur as his hands move to grip my hips. 

“Shh. I got you,” he says as he presses a kiss to the scar on my collarbone, sucking hard until he’s left his mark. His tongue pokes out to wet the spot, and he continues to trail wet, ravenous kisses down my chest until he reaches my breasts. He cups the left one in his hand while his mouth makes light work of sucking and flicking the nipple on the other. 

“Please?” I beg as he switches. I need him to touch me or I will explode. 

“Shh…” he coos and my hips buck into his hand as he slides a finger through my folds with a featherlight touch. 

“Please Harry? I need more.” I whine as he presses his finger to me with a miniscule amount more pressure. 

“Adore it when you beg for me, baby.” 

We’ll see who is begging in a second I think to myself as I drag my nails up his muscular thighs. 

“Fuck!” He yells as I trace the outline of his dick before sliding my palm over him. 

“So… you gonna give me this? Or just tease me all fucking day?” I steal his words from earlier and a high-pitched giggle bursts from my mouth as he picks me up before quickly putting me back down again. 

“Don’t want you on the bed,” he mutters out loud before grabbing my hands and pressing them against one of the posts, “lower.” He presses his hand to my head and carefully pushes my upper body downwards until I’m bent over with my arse in the air. 

He hums as he drags his fingers along my spine and my entire body shudders with anticipation. “Look at you,” he coos while he caresses bum, “proper little work of art, can see how wet you are for me, gonna hold on tight?” I moan as his fingers slide between my thighs, circling where I ache for him before pressing firmly on my clit. 

“Mhmm.” It’s the only sound I can manage as he continues to tease me, the exact way I like. I shuffle forward so I can hug my upper body to the post, the wood resting against my shoulder. A whimper leaves my lips as he slips a finger inside me and my cheeks flush as I can hear my wetness in the quiet of the secluded grounds. 

“Shit! I need you, baby,” My husband’s voice is laced with hunger and I press myself further into his hand.

“I’m yours, Harry. All yours,” my voice is breathy and just as starved as his. His fingers slick with my arousal rest on my bum as he shuffles down his boxers and my skin tingles when I feel his tip pressing at my entrance. His right hand digs into my flesh as he stands perfectly still and my mouth falls open to tell him to get a move on but before I can make a sound, he slides inside in one smooth motion causing all the air to exit my lungs.

“Feel so good,” he moans and I agree whole-heartedly as my body accommodates him. I squeeze around him to let him know it’s okay for him to move and move he most certainly does. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into me with a force that almost knocks me off my feet. I grip the post tighter as Harry’s hands grip my hips, his second thrust more restrained than the first.

He shifts his stance ever so slightly and I let out a loud “OOHHH!” as his movements are now hitting exactly where I want them to. 

“Know exactly how to take care of you, baby” he groans. I feel his fingers in my hair and a jolt of electricity shoots through me as he winds his hands in it and pulls, it’s gentle at first but as I moan louder he pulls harder. The pain mixed with the pleasure he’s providing feels so good that my orgasm is almost upon me before I realise it. 

“Fuck me harder, H! I’m - god, I’m so close!” 

“Jesus! Fuck! Me too!” He grunts. “Squee-zing me so - tight! Fingers…” the last word comes out as a sharp intake of breath and my fingers have moved to my clit before I even fully understand his instruction. 

“Shit! I love you Love you! Love you!” I repeat the mantra over and over again until Harry’s loud moan drowns me out. Both hands now have a death grip on my hips as he holds me perfectly still. The wetness I can feel between my legs means we’re both going to need a shower but right now I don’t think I can move. The term fucked out is an accurate description and I’m sure if Harry lets me go then I’ll just fall to the floor in one satisfied little heap. I wish honeymoons lasted longer than a few weeks.

-----

“Is it time to call our favourite girl?” Harry calls from the kitchen as he gets us both something to drink. After our escapades by the pool, we’d moved to a relaxing bath which quickly turned heated as did drying off afterwards. We’ve just finished dinner and now is our usual time to call the little missing piece of our puzzle. 

“Mhmm!” I yell back. 

“You sure all you want is water?” His voice grows closer and I reach for my laptop which is open on the coffee table. 

“Yeah, and you better put some clothes on,” I smile as my eyes roam his butt-naked body before taking the bottle of water he’s holding out towards me. 

“What for? She can’t see me through a phone call,” he grins as he flops down onto the sofa beside me, the ice cubes in his Tequila rattle against the glass. 

“Not calling. Your Mum asked us to Facetime tonight.” I straighten out the sundress and run my fingers through my hair as if my mother-in-law isn’t well aware that I probably spent all day in bed with her son. Lord knows she’d caught us together enough times. I press my hands to my cheeks as I feel the warmth spreading there.

“Facetime? I thought that was a no go after Robi had a meltdown on day one?” He places his glass on my thigh as he reaches for a pair of discarded boxers that lie on the floor. 

“Apparently our girl misses us and is giving Grandma Twist a hard time so she’s hoping seeing our faces will help.” I explain while I watch Harry wriggle into his underwear. He reaches for a black hoodie that has sat on the arm of the sofa since we arrived here and pulls it over his head, he looks so soft and cuddly that I yank him back down beside me as soon as he slips his arms into the sleeves. 

“I know seeing your pretty face would make me feel better,” he says as he presses a soft kiss to my lips and clicks to start the call. 

“Such a charmer.” I grin and snuggle myself into his side as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. The connection stutters for a while before settling down and Anne grins as she says hello. 

“Mummy!” Robin yells excitedly before she shakes her head and then buries her head in the crook of her Grandma’s neck. “Daddy, all hairy!” she wails. 

“Am not!” He protests before running his hand over his facial hair, “oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mumbles as he pushes himself up from the seat. 

“Where are you going?” I grip his arm tight. “She’ll settle down in a bit.” I didn’t want him to miss out on talking to her, I know he’s missed her. The two of them go almost everywhere together back home, I’ve even found her waiting impatiently outside the bathroom for him before. 

“Just talk to her. I’ll be back.” He bends over and places a kiss to my forehead. My heart hurts as I watch him walk away. 

I turn back to the screen as I hear Robin’s hissy fit get louder. 

“Shut up!” she snaps at Anne and my anger fizzles over. 

“Excuse me?” I exclaim. 

“Grandma said I no have a cookie!” Her lips purse together in an angry little pout as she throws her arms across her chest. 

“I don’t care what Grandma said, you don’t speak to her like that, it’s not nice and you hurt Daddy’s feelings.” 

“Daddy sad? Where he go?” She says, her eyes focus on the empty space beside me while she leans in closer. “I WANT DADDY!” I can see her Grandma flinch at the volume of her voice and I feel bad that so far this call is doing nothing to calm my daughter, Anne must be at her wits' end. 

“Robin, calm down. Daddy’s here.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes!” Harry’s yell is barely audible over our daughter. 

“Robin Ann Styles if you don’t quit screaming I’m going to turn this off and you can go straight to bed, are you listening?” Anne says firmly, and she quietens down. Her sniffling breaks my heart, maybe it was selfish of me and Harry to come on this honeymoon for two weeks, she’s never been away from either of us for more than a few days before.

“We’ll be home soon, just two more sleeps, sweetheart. We miss you.” My fingers stretch out towards the screen, wishing they could take the place of Anne’s which are gently wiping away her tears. 

“Miss you, Mummy” She breathes, her tongue pokes out to lick away her snot, making me shudder. 

“Hey, Daddy found you some pink shells yesterday!” I smile. It was the one thing she’d begged Harry for when he’d asked her what she wanted him to bring home. Every day, he’d disappear for an hour while he combed the beach for pink shells. He had found plenty of purple ones, orange ones, even golden coloured ones but none in the colour his little sweet pea desired. His dazzling grin as he arrived back victorious yesterday was enough to warm my heart for an entire lifetime. 

“He did? I see?” Her mouth slowly turning up into a small smile. 

I glance over my shoulder and still find no sign of my husband. “H? Where are you? Bring the shells for Robin, she wants to see them!” 

“BE THERE IN A COUPLE OF MINUTES!” His voice booms through the house causing me to flinch. 

“O-kay!” She yells back quietly and I watch as she lumbers back onto Anne’s lap. A smile settles on my face as I watch my daughter snuggle into her Grandma’s embrace, she cups her head softly against her chest, her thumb stroking softly over her granddaughter's cheek. It makes me feel warm because her Daddy holds her the exact same way. 

“Judging by your tan, you guys have at least made it outside then?” Anne chuckles as Robin quietens down, so much so that I think she might fall asleep. “Wait, what the hell have you done to your shoulder?” 

“Oh!” I can feel the blush creep over my cheeks as I glance at my right shoulder, the angry purple bruise had started to appear a few hours after Harry had fucked me against the bedpost. “I - uhm…” 

“Did somebody want to see some shells?” His body bumps mine as he falls into the space beside me and honestly I want to smother him in a grateful hug for saving me from answering that question. 

“Me!” Robin suddenly springs from her sleepy state, her wide dimply grin a mirror image of her Dad’s. “Oooh… they twisty like ice cream,” she coos. Her body leans in for a closer look and I rest my head against Harry as he throws his arm around me. 

“Do you like them?” I snuggle closer when I hear the nervous wobble in his voice. Performing in front of 60,000 people. Easy. Waiting to hear if his daughter likes her shells. Bag of nerves. I let out a giggle before placing a kiss to his hoodie clad chest. 

“Yay, you cut the whiskeys!” My head immediately snaps up towards Harry’s as my daughter's words ring in my ears. I cup my left hand to his cheek, my thumb brushing over his smooth upper lip. 

“Hey, I liked that.” I blow out a slight puff of air. 

“Uh oh, Robi! I think you got me in trouble with Mummy!” He smirks, quirking an eyebrow at me. 

“No be mad, Mummy! He bootiful!” 

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” I’m unable to stop myself smiling as my eyes continue to drink him in. My body tingles with desire as he leans towards me.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers against my ear. He presses a teasing kiss there before straightening up and turning his attention back to the screen. 

“So… you like your shells then?” 

“I wuv ’em, Daddy.” She’s cuddled herself back into Anne and her eyes are so heavy she can barely keep them open. 

“I love you.” The tinge of sadness in his voice is obvious and as his fingers grip me tighter I know he is missing Robin just as much as she is missing him. 

“Wuv you and Mummy.” She yawns loudly before falling quiet again. 

“Okay, I’m going to let you guys go. Put this little madam to bed.” Anne smiles. 

“Has she been that bad?” Harry asks. 

“Oh, the past few days I’d swear somebody switched her with the devil. She stayed with Danny and Pam yesterday and decided Severus would be her new dress up buddy. Well, he didn’t take kindly to that, so he gave her a nasty scratch on her leg and that set off the tantrums. Didn’t want anyone to look at it that wasn’t you guys. Then she had a nightmare last night. She just misses you. She’ll feel better now she’s getting some rest. So will Grandma.” She chuckles. “Now go, have fun! Enjoy your time together before you have another little handful, they’ll be here before you know it.” 

My fingers automatically press against my tiny bump. I honestly can’t wait to meet him. I have a feeling it’s a boy this time but maybe that’s just my heart ruling my head. 

“Love you, Mum.”

“Me too.” I quickly add. “Thank you for taking care of our baby.” 

“Are you kidding? Despite her moodiness I love having her here. She’s Grandma’s little sunshine.” She beams. “Now go before you wake her and she causes a minor thunder storm again!”

Harry closes the laptop once we’ve exchanged a last set of goodbyes. 

“Baby?” he questions. His arms wrap around me and he turns me to face him. 

“I know. I miss her too. You ready to go home, Mr Styles?” I press a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“I love you!” He exclaims, pushing me backwards so I fall down onto the sofa. “Do you know that?” 

“I do.” I answer honestly as his body straddles mine. 

“Make me so fucking happy -” he slides his hands up the side of my body, stopping on my ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of my boobs, “-and horny.” His smirk makes his green eyes twinkle with mischief. “I can’t wait to watch this little bump grow.” He bends to press a soft kiss to the fabric of my dress, exactly where our little one is busy growing. “You know, I don’t think I told you this… no nevermind it’s silly.” he shakes his head before turning away from me and burying it in my side. 

“Hey, no. Tell me, H,” My hand moves to rest on his head, fingers automatically combing through his messy curls. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” His right hand fists the material covering my bump as he presses needy kisses to my side. 

“Course I won’t” My fingers scrape gently along his scalp and he presses into my touch. 

“I was really nervous about this,” he breathes as he continues his trail up my side. 

“About kissing me? Pull the other one, Styles!” I scoff as he nips his teeth against the side of my boob. 

“No, well, kind of. I was nervous about the honeymoon,” his words tickle my skin as he slips the strap of my dress off my shoulder, “felt like everyone expected me to get you pregnant. I mean it’s not a secret we want more kids, and Robi is three now. I felt like everyone thought it was time and then when you told me you were pregnant at the wedding this giant pressure lifted off my shoulders. It’s been so good just to enjoy this time together, to enjoy you…” his words trail off as he presses a kiss to the sensitive spot below my ear. 

“Sweetie, why didn’t you say something?” I turn my head to capture his pink lips in a kiss. 

“You were already stressed about wedding stuff. Made everything perfect for us. Was beautiful. You were beautiful. Then you told me about this little one so it turned out all right in the end, didn’t it?” His hand presses to my stomach as his lips ghost mine. 

“I guess it did. I love you.”

“Love you too. Now come on, there’s still one more place in this villa I want to have you before we leave. That outdoor bath has our names on it.” His deep chuckle makes my skin tingle. I will miss this place but I can’t wait to go home and begin my forever with Harry.

[primasveraas-writing]

This is Home

Request: “Finnpoe where Finn keeps slipping into First Order habits/has culture shock with the Resistance?”

Thanks for sending this in!

Ship/drabble requests are open!

WORD COUNT: 2855

XXX

Finn knows he was reborn the day he left the First Order.

Out of blood and pain, he reentered the world. He was given a name. He was held in the embrace of friends who would become family, and the moment they saw him, they loved him.

He was struck down, and he awoke again, taking teetering, unsteady steps as he relearned how to walk. There was fire and water and darkness as he stumbled confusedly on the ship until he ran into Poe, and the universe began to make sense again.

And Finn was reborn.

Yet the past never left him. The sensation of freedom, at last, overtook him- a weight off his chest, blissful as he’d never known before. Finn wasn’t sure if it was rational to expect complete liberation when the ideals of the First Order were so deeply ingrained within him, but he was given a new life and a new identity to make his own.

If he was reborn, then FN-2187 is the ghost that haunts his every step.

On a surface level, everything is fine. He has friends, Poe and Rey, and the whole of the Resistance seems to welcome him with open arms. He is free to do as he pleases, so long as he pitches in around the base, and he doesn’t have to fight in combat unless he chooses to. He has full meals three times a day, and people who smile at him when he passes in the hall. On their new base, he can go outside and smell the fresh air and explore the natural world.

Every morning, Finn wakes up at 0600. It’s the same time the claxon went off in the First Order barracks, and true to his earliest memories, his eyes open routinely, even before the sun dawns over Ajan Kloss. Since duties don't start until 0700 or 0800, depending on rank, Finn watches the sun rise through his window, and tries not to think about how for the first time in his life, he has a window to call his own. He has his own private quarters, and they are deathly silent each day.

Regardless, Finn dresses promptly, then turns to face the light. The sun hasn’t yet crept through the trees into his room, but he knows it will soon. He glances at the chronometer sitting on his bedside table. Yesterday, the sun rose at 0641, the first beams coming through the window slowly, almost one by one. Today, he waits for the sun to rise just a few minutes later. 

This is how Finn bides his time, counting minutes of sunlight because he cannot escape a lifetime of conditioning.

At 0705, Finn rises, stretching his limbs, which are aching after an hour of sitting idly. Poe rises at 0700, and Finn has quickly learned that his friend is someone who can be considered a "morning person." It's a choice, apparently, to wake early and be productive at the start of the day. They make a habit of eating together before much of the base has come to life. In this sense, they are unique: few others willingly wake so early. Even Poe’s activity and enthusiasm are special, but Finn discovers that this is due to his two cups of caf taken daily in the morning. Even so, he's still brighter than Jessika, who refuses to talk until her first cup is empty, consumed slowly and accompanied with tired, sulky eyes.

Poe greets him loudly, smiling wide and clapping the other man on the back. Finn can’t help but respond just as happily, although it’s dampened with exhaustion, even after being awake for just one hour. Poe doesn’t notice, however, or attributes it to the normalcy of life during the war. Either way, Finn is glad no one else knows. He hasn’t told anyone of his sleeplessness, that he can betray the First Order but not shake them in his daily habits.

When they get to the mess, Poe heaps his plate with food, gleefully exclaiming about the freshness of a new dish that has appeared among the standard breakfast options. Finn takes small portions of a few staples, remembering how his stomach ached when he ate too much rich food immediately after joining the Resistance.

Jessika is already at their usual table, glowering at Poe when he says good morning. After Finn asks her why she’s up so early, she tosses back her dark hair, preparing to unload her grievances.

“Someone assigned me training duty,” she says, pointing a finger accusingly at Poe, who only grins in response. “I’m teaching a few new recruits the x-wing basics.” And although she rolls her eyes to puncuate this statement, Finn knows that she doesn’t really mind, aside from requiring an extra cup of caf and some pretend sympathy for the lost hour of rest.

The female pilot sighs, returning to her plate and half-emptied mug. She looks at Finn and shakes her head. “Man, I cannot understand how you don’t eat more. I wake up and I’m starving.” Almost to emphasize her point, she shovels a pile of eggs into her mouth decorously.

“Charming, Pava,” Poe says, snorting. Finn chuckles too, ignoring the sensation of his stomach dropping into the floor. The food provided by the Resistance is far more than he’s used to- so much more than the First Order had ever allotted for their soldiers. It was never enough then, but it didn’t matter. Their job was to function, not to be satisfied.

Still, Finn considers taking more food. His portioning had led to embarrassment one day when his stomach had growled loudly during a Resistance meeting. Most paid him no mind, but Poe, standing next to him, had offered Finn a ration bar, furthering the heat already burning Finn’s cheeks. He had promptly refused, ashamed that his body had ousted his hunger. He was already receiving plenty of food; he shouldn’t need even more.

Despite his thoughts, the meal continues, the pilots beside Finn drawing him out of his reverie. They are a reminder; he is a part of them now, but Finn does not get up to add more food to his plate. He starts the day still hungry.

Most of the day passes normally; by now he knows to smile at his fellow Resistance members in the hall and relax his posture when he walks. Only once does he catch himself looking around in fear of being reprimanded for breaking protocol, but he manages to remember where he is and the right way to behave. He attends a strategy meeting, laughs with his friends, and as the day continues, the knot of anxiety in his stomach begins to unwind.

It’s clearly fine, and Finn tries to show it. Most of the time, Finn doesn’t even feel his heart beating out of his chest; the fact that he can disregard it demonstrates his progress. Even when his voice falters midconversation, after missing Snap’s layered sarcasm minutes into a debate, he recovers quickly enough that they all can laugh and move on. Finn laughs the loudest, failing to notice how Poe refrains, moving slightly closer to his friend.

It’s been a good day, Finn decides, with significantly fewer blunders made than the day before. Finn tries to maintain the conversation before he lets himself get lost in review, thinking over what he should have done better. But by the time he’s in the command room, even after the last meal of the day, his mind wanders, and General Organa, made haughty by extended hours, barks out his name suddenly.

Finn instantly stiffens, snapping to attention. His gaze hardens, staring straight ahead, and his heart thuds in his chest, so loudly that he’ll be scolded for that too. His arms are rods at his side, and Finn braces for Phasma’s raised voice-

“Relax, Finn,” the General says softly. Her tone is as gentle as Finn’s ever heard it, mirroring her comforting touch as she reaches out to grasp Finn's shoulder. "We don't do that here. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Finn nods, shame burning inside him, fueled by the anxiety that’s made its home within every part of his being. She is looking at him with pity in her eyes, and Finn cannot meet her gaze. Perhaps she realizes this, because she speaks again, this time assuming something closer to her typical conviction.

“To win a battle and to return scarred is still a victory. You have been fighting this battle ever since you got here. Nobody expects you to lose, but no one expects it to be easy, either.” Her words become conversational, as if Finn’s plight were the changing of the seasons. “But one good thing about living on a rebel base is that you’re surrounded by good, patient people. And most of us know a thing or two about change, too.”

She leaves it at that, but her eyes are sparkling. Finn comes back to himself, nodding. That one of the biggest differences between his old life and this new one- he's never felt a mother's gaze until Leia had looked at him, with such an unfamiliar sympathy and love. It's inexplicably wonderful; Finn wants to burst into tears and hug the General all at once. Sometimes he wonders if she would ever let him, but he can't allow himself to ever decide. Instead, he nods again, clearing his throat so he can manage a soft “thank you.”

Leia smiles briefly, then dismisses him for the night, declaring to the whole room that they have free time until duty begins again tomorrow.

***

Weeks pass, and Finn does better. He still doesn’t take more food, but each day, even each hour, he becomes more and more unrecognizable as a First Order trooper. He becomes Finn, who is part of the rebellion all around, born of his friends’ humor, love, and loyalty. It is good, even if he can still sometimes hear his heart pounding in his chest or stiffens whenever an admiral passes by.

At night, he collapses into bed, exhausted from the effort of assimilating into the Resistance. As soon as he’s left off from duty, Finn usually retreats to his quarters, preferring a few moments of peace and quiet to himself, lying on his bed as the world spins around him and he tries to regain a sense of balance between his new life and the one he left behind. He doesn’t wish to go back- of course not- but when he’s exhausted and depleted at the end of the day, he wants something familiar. Which in turn makes him angry, because all that’s ever been familiar was the First Order, and he certainly doesn’t want that. So the cycle continues, and Finn is helpless to it, even if it gets easier day by day. He is still resigned to the hurricane of emotions and tiredness at every quiet moment available to him, when the bustling life in the Resistance slows enough for him to think.

It’s on one of these nights, when Finn is halfway undressed and slumped in bed, that Poe comes knocking on his door. Finn, mostly asleep and lethargically watching the sun set through his window, scrambles to his feet, pulling on a pair of pants frantically.

“Coming!” Finn shouts, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, although his heart is racing enough that he’s fully awake already.

Poe is smiling when the door opens, but it quickly fades upon seeing Finn, wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and all. Tenderly, he reaches out to touch the other man’s shoulder, but Finn fights to keep a smile on his face still.

“Can I come in?”

Finn steps aside, allowing Poe into his quarters, almost regretting it when Poe’s critical eyes sweep over the room, taking in the emptiness of it all, including the bed that has already been slept in that evening.

“Take a breath, Finn,” Poe tells him, managing an easy grin once more. “I was just stopping by.”

Finn nods, relaxing his shoulders and posture, leaning into Poe as he speaks, showing calculated interest beyond his genuine appreciation at Poe’s visit.

“So,” the pilot continues, “is this where you disappear to every night?”

Freezing momentarily, as if he’d been caught, Finn has to remember how to talk. Perhaps Poe realizes this, because he speaks again, his tone gentle.

“I was just worried about you, buddy. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Finn shifts uncomfortably, dropping his gaze. “It’s a lot. Every day” His words are timid and painfully soft. “I just want to fit in but it’s all so new.”

Stepping closer to Finn, Poe reaches out to grasp Finn’s arm. “I understand, Finn. But you aren’t alone in this. I know how overwhelming this can be. We’re surrounded by all kinds of beings from around the galaxy during the middle of a war. I know it’s harder for you, but if you ever need anything, just ask.”

Wordlessly, Finn nods, and Poe draws him close, wrapping his arms around Finn’s waist and letting the former stormtrooper bury his face in Poe’s neck. 

***

So Finn does ask. In the morning, when Poe offers him a bite of his food, he tries it and asks for more. Not every day, but sometimes. He asks about species of beings he’s never seen before, to try and understand all parts of the Resistance. He asks how he can help, how he can reach out to people he’s never talked to on the base. He asks how to fit in, how he should address his superiors and compose himself during meetings. He asks medics and Poe and everyone he knows who has faced impossible odds and the anxiety that comes with it on how to find and keep calm. He asks for help when he doesn’t understand something, even after the relevant moment has passed, because Poe is always there afterward, his eyes kind and knowing, and Finn learns that Poe will never stop being there for him. It is gradual and slow, but soon enough, Finn isn’t embarrassed or afraid anymore, to need Poe’s help and patience, and life becomes easier.

So Finn later asks, only partially shy, if he can kiss Poe.

(Poe says yes.)

Then Poe is there, in the early hours, when Finn wakes before dawn. His boyfriend is a light sleeper; as soon as Finn stirs in in his arms, Poe rises too. At first, they start their day together, beginning their daily duties hours earlier, but as time goes on, and Finn feels more at home in Poe’s embrace, he stays in bed longer, even if he can’t fall asleep again. Until, one day, Finn opens his eyes and sees Poe smiling above him. Finn is confused, but upon checking the chronometer next to him, he realizes that it is far past 0600. This does not happen the next day, nor the one after that, but it is the start of a gradual change, one that will continue through to the rest of his life.

They share a cup of caf after, especially when it becomes routine for Poe to wake Finn, despite the latter's grumpy protests. Finn starts by sipping the dark beverage, made strong and without sugary additives, even though it's far too bitter for Finn's preferences. Poe laughs at him when his nose wrinkles at the flavor, but he doesn't mind it when their kisses shortly thereafter still have the lingering warmth and taste of the drink.

Finn discovers his favorite food, a dish made from exotic fruits. The recipe has been passed on from Shara Bey to her son, who recreates it for Finn after a particularly bountiful supply run, and all Finn wants is more, a thousand more lazy afternoons watching Poe cook and mutter to himself in languages from Yavin IV, and kissing Finn periodically as he does it all.

They hold hands in the hall, and Finn finds himself grinning back at his friends, heat flushing his cheeks when Poe tells him how beautiful his smile is. That’s new too, the ease with which he can navigate teasing and sarcasm, and he is overjoyed when Black Squadron falls to pieces at one of his jokes.

Leia smiles at him brightly as ever, and after Finn suggests a new strategy, he realizes she's beaming at him. Once the meeting adjourns, she wraps her arm around his shoulder and tells him she's glad he's home. He does get choked up then, turning away so Leia doesn't see the shine in his eyes, but she is merciful enough to squeeze his arm and walk away, leaving the statement hanging in the air, and Finn to his joy and thoughts.

But she’s right, he thinks, as the Resistance celebrates another victory that night. He’s curled in Poe’s arms, watching the flames of the bonfire flicker into the night, listening to the laughter and shouts of joy from the rest of the base as they drink and party with a sense of carefreeness that is surprisingly common here, even during the war. 

This is home.

[darisu-chan]

whatever our souls are made of (his and mine are the same), pt. 1

Hi!

Welcome to my first entry for IR Month.

This is a new collection of interconnected one-shots, that you can also find here.

Hope you like this first chapter!

See ya!

but if i know you

Prompt: once upon a dream

Summary: And she believes she would wait for him for lifetimes. Yet she’s not sure she wants to wait any longer.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

Rukia has never been one to ponder the meaning of dreams.

 When she was a young, hungry child, she never allowed herself to daydream, much less to dilly dally in whatever nocturne vision she had had the night before. The only way for her to stay alive had been to keep both feet steady on the ground. Never looking back. Only ahead, to another day of struggle. And that’s how her life went. Day, after day, after day.

 She finds that being a Shinigami is not that different.

 From the moment she had entered Shin’ō Academy, Rukia hadn’t dared look back or stall. And when she had been adopted into the Kuchiki Clan, she had forced herself to not yearn for what she couldn’t have, and instead be grateful for all the wonderful things she now got to enjoy.

 What were dreams when you got warm food in your belly, a soft bed, clothes and a job?

 Rukia had always been pragmatic, and so, most of her days had become dull.

 Although it is true that Hollow-hunting brought some action into her life, between training, filling out paperwork, attending meetings, and the occasional get-together, decades have passed her by without much excitement. Even after becoming a lieutenant, her life hasn’t exactly been colorful. It just means she’s busier and that her responsibilities have increased.

 But there have been times, sprinkled here and there in the past four years or so, when she has felt more alive than ever before. When her days have been filled by sunlight. When she has been painted orange by more warmth than she had ever known before.

 And it has been in these moments, when Rukia has allowed herself to dream.

 Back in the Human World, back in Karakura, she has learned the true meaning of wonder.

 When she was powerless and lost in a foreign place, she had finally felt as if she were more than what she always had been. She had finally felt human. And even though such feelings had ended up burdening her, Rukia cannot help but cherish every single one of them.

 Because Shinigami have ambitions and emotions, but they don’t let themselves experience the beauty of life, as they are, by all effects and purposes, dead. So they go through their afterlife fighting, and working, and drinking, and eating, and worrying about, quite frankly, nonsense.

 And Rukia had been like that as well. Trying to become a better Shinigami, but failing in both her duties to her division and her duties to her brother. There had been only one ray of hope that had soon been extinguished by her own failings.

 But in Karakura, she had felt lighter than ever during those couple of months.

 And she had had dreams.

 Dreams about the manga she would read, the bunnies she so liked, the spirits she had encountered, the people she had met at school, and even what went down in the lessons she hadn’t been quite able to grasp. It had all been so very mundane and simple, yet wonderful at the same time.

 There had been a beauty to it, to these dreams any normal human had every day. The ordinary had seemed so rich to Rukia, in comparison to the tediousness of her dead life.

 But there had been nightmares too.

 Some humorous, like when she had dreamed she had failed an algebra quiz ─ only to find out later on that she had done so indeed.

 Others were more gruesome.

 (Mistakes from her past, rain, blood, Grand Fisher)

 She didn’t like to dwell as much on those dreams, preferring to forget about them once morning would come.

 But, most of all, she had dreamed about Ichigo.

 Rukia hadn’t stopped to think at the time what it meant to dream so often about him.

 As they had spent almost every waking hour together, it had been obvious to her he would have to appear in her dreams as well.

 It was to be expected.

 However, even when they were apart, Rukia had found herself dreaming about him.

 About his stupidly bright-colored hair, his scowl, how he would complain each time he had to fight a Hollow. How good he was with kids, particularly his younger sisters. How nice he often was to her, bringing her food, asking if she had been hurt during a tough fight, teaching her school stuff, and even lending her money.

 (How heroic he had looked when he had saved her from her execution)

 During their time apart, Rukia had figured Ichigo so often appeared in her dreams because she missed him. He was so ingrained into her life, into her soul, that she wouldn’t even be surprised if, somehow, he shared space with Sode No Shirayuki in her inner world.

 However, now she has to question this idea.

 And it’s not as if Rukia doesn’t miss him ─ she does, oh so much ─ but the nature of her dreams is much different than it used to be.

 Because, after the war, things have changed.

 In the Soul Society, in the Gotei 13, in her division, death looms everywhere she goes. Tragedy had struck in the afterlife as it had never before. They had lost so many great Shinigami, and their absence is felt even two years after the war was won. Rukia, who had to deal with the tragic death of Captain Ukitake, feels it more keenly. There is now an even greater responsibility on her shoulders. To do right by her division, by Ukitake-taichō, by Kaien-dono.

 Yet it is frustrating.

 Rukia cannot help but wish she was anywhere but the place that was supposed to be her home.

 When she’s all alone and no one is looking, she often thinks about clear skies, green grass, the breeze gently blowing on her face, the sun, shining brightly from above, warming her from inside out, as she walks the streets of a sleepy town. She envisions classrooms, the mall, the park, and a house next to a clinic. Soft dresses, delicious food cooked by young hands, lion plushies, and orange at every corner. It’s peaceful in this corner of her mind. But whenever she catches herself having such thoughts, she admonishes herself. Because the Soul Society is where she needs to be. She is a soul, and this is the place where souls live. It is time to stop pretending she is human.

 At night, when sleep takes over, it is a different story. Her treacherous thoughts make a comeback, and it is when she dreams about Ichigo again. She sees him, not broken or defeated, nor as a hero, just him, standing next to her, and smiling at her so tenderly, as he had done back at the Soul King Palace, when their blades had crossed as they had trained. And Rukia believes this is what happiness is all about. What she had been missing her whole life. The feeling of standing next to Ichigo as her equal. Side by side. Always together.

 However, her dreams are not as calming as they could be. Because each night, just as she is enjoying his presence, Ichigo will suddenly give her his back, and walk away. Far away from her reach. And before vanishing, each and every time he would look back at her only to cryptically say, “You know what to do.”

 And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Rukia thinks every single morning, upon waking up. Because she does know what needs to be done. Ichigo is a human, and thus had returned to his home, his family, and the life he had been meant to live before she had gotten in his way. And she needs to continue down her own path. Guiding her division, making nii-sama proud, fulfilling her duties, and being the best Shinigami she can be.

 They are from two different worlds and no matter what her dreams tell her, this is how things have to be. Forever apart. Meeting once in a while. Each of them moving on. Finding their own place in the universe.

 Such is the way things must be.

 The natural course of their existence.

 The unavoidable truth.

 Yet there are some things that not even destiny can stop.

 Everything finally falls into place one evening when Renji comes to pick her up at her division, claiming he needs to talk to her. Rukia is not sure what is going on, but she walks away with her friend to a secluded area, where Renji pours out his heart to her. He confesses he has loved her ever since they were children. But that when she had been adopted into the Kuchiki family, Renji hadn’t felt good enough for her, and had decided to wait until he was finally worthy of her. And now, after several battles won, after the end of the war, with both alive, he has decided it is time to make his intentions known. He wants to love her, to marry her, and even to have children with her. Whatever she wants, Renji swears he will give her.

 Rukia is stunned into silence, not knowing how exactly she can respond to such a confession. Renji, most likely fearing her refusal, tells her to sleep on it before giving him an answer. He leaves her there with the promise that, surely, in the morning everything will be clear for her.

 But when she goes back to her room, she doesn’t think about Renji. Instead, a distant memory resurfaces in her fogged mind. Suddenly she’s back in Karakura Town, to a time when the Arrancars had left them rest for at least one day, just before things had gone south. Yuzu had wanted to watch a movie that night, Rukia recalls. She had chosen a romantic film about a princess, one Karin and Ichigo hadn’t cared to watch, but had accepted out of love for their sister. And, as they had watched it, Rukia had been mesmerized by what she had seen. She still isn’t sure how humans had managed to make drawings move on a screen, but the combination of the animation’s fluid motions, the colors, the music and the voice acting had made for an unforgettable experience. Yet, the plot perhaps had been what had intrigued her the most. The story about a young girl, the same age as Ichigo, cursed to sleep for one hundred years, with the only cure being true love’s kiss. Luckily, in the film the heroic prince had defeated the witch and had kissed the princess that very night. No harm had been done and the two had lived happily ever after. But how sad it would have been if the girl had slept for a lifetime, wasting her life away, Rukia had wondered. She had told Ichigo as much later that same evening.

 “But she does, in the original story.” He had interjected. “Or at least in the version I know.”

 Rukia had been clearly surprised by this statement, so Ichigo had continued explaining. “In the story, there is no prince at the beginning. So when the princess pricks her finger, she falls asleep for a hundred years, just as the curse intended to happen. And once that period of time had passed, a prince did find her and kissed her, breaking the curse and waking her from her deep slumber.”

 “But why didn’t he appear sooner?” Rukia had questioned, clearly outraged.

 “Well, the story comes with a lesson. That it is better to wait for a hundred years for your true love than to just marry anyone else just because.” Then Ichigo had become inexplicably bashful, and as he scratched his cheek, he had told her, “but it’s just a story. Don’t think too much about it.”

 But she had.

 Rukia had often wondered since about the cursed princess.

 One hundred years is a long time for a human.

 It is more than a lifetime.

 So many things can happen during that time, and upon waking up, the world would have definitely not been the same for the princess.

 And when she slumbered, what had she dreamed about?

 “Her prince!” Yuzu had quickly answered Rukia. “She probably dreamed about her true love day after day until she finally got to meet him. So that when they met, she knew him by then!” The young girl had exclaimed, gushing about the romance in the story.

 But that answer, if lovely, was not truly satisfying.

 Because who would wait for a hundred years for a promised love? And what would one do during that time? Would you truly be happy not living as you wait for someone that may not come at all?

 And what about dreams? What do they even mean? Can they truly show you your true love? Or is that just wistful thinking?

 Would a sleeping princess dream every night about her true love?

 Would someone who is awake only be able to feel alive in dreams?

 And now, as Rukia lays awake considering this, she may have found her answer.

 There might be some truth to that story.

 Because, even though she should be thinking about Renji and his proposal, all she can think about is Ichigo. Him and his deep eyes, his ever-present scowl, his calloused hands and the way they feel against her skin. They fill every corner of her mind. She thinks about his passion, his will to protect, how he pretends he’s not as kind as he really is. How he never fools her when he’s sad and about to give up. How he believes he’s weak, ignoring that his strength goes beyond his muscles and fighting abilities. And she wonders what he’s doing right at this very moment. Perhaps he’s studying or working on a project. Maybe he’s already asleep. Or it could be he’s out, hanging out with his friends. Then, Rukia cannot help but ask herself if Ichigo ever thinks of her as much as she thinks of him.

 It is then that it clicks.

 The reason why she has been dreaming about him for as long as she has.

 And Rukia can only conclude that Ichigo is who and what she wants.

 It has always been this way.

 And, yes, she believes she would wait for him for lifetimes. Wait until his remaining human life is over. Until he can join her in the Soul Society as a true soul. And it could take eighty years or more, but that doesn’t matter to Rukia. She is willing to wait for him, no matter what.

 Yet she’s not sure she wants to wait any longer.

 Because, even if life and death should separate them, the issue is not as clear cut as others have made it seem.

 There must be a way for them to be together now.

 “You know what to do.”

 Yes.

 Rukia knows that now.

 So the next morning she wakes up with purpose, beyond doing what it is expected of her.

 She talks to Renji and explains as much as she can why she cannot accept his proposal. To his credit, her friend doesn’t get upset. He’s visibly sad but understanding at the same time. As if knowing what she is about to do, Renji simply tells her to take care of herself, and to tell Ichigo he better be good to her. Rukia can only thank him for the kindness he has always shown her, and watches him walk away, finally able to move on.

It is a bittersweet affair.

 Telling Byakuya, on the other hand, is altogether a different story. It is supposed to be more difficult than talking to Renji was, yet she soon learns that it is not, as it takes nii-sama one look at her to know what she intends to say.

 “It took you long enough, Rukia.” Is his mere reply.

 It goes without saying that his reaction leaves her flabbergasted.

 Of all people, Byakuya should be the first one to oppose her. But she forgets he is one of the few people that gets her decision.

 Nii-sama manages one soft smile at her, before talking again. “He’s waiting for you. Go. I will handle things here.”

 As astonishment becomes understanding, Rukia can only nod. She feels a tightness in her throat that she can’t unravel. She turns around and she’s almost out of the door when her brother speaks again.

 “And Rukia.”

 She turns to look at him.

 “I’m very proud of you.”

 She could’ve hugged Byakuya right then and there and cry in his arms, but she controls herself. It would make the two of them uncomfortable and, besides, there is no time left to lose. So, instead, Rukia sprints away from the Kuchiki Mansion and opens a Senkaimon to Karakura Town. As she enters, she never looks back, and when the gate opens, she finds herself directly in front of Urahara’s store, who is already waiting for her, with a knowing look on his face.

 “I had a feeling we’d have a visitor today.” The former Shinigami explains to her, as he shows her the new gigai and the set of clothes he’s carrying.

 Rukia is once again overcome with emotion, but before she can thank him, Urahara interrupts her.

 “Don’t make him wait anymore.” It is what he tells her before shooing her away.

 She doesn’t think twice and, now inside the gigai, she leaves to her destination.

 The trek to the Kurosaki household is much more peaceful than Rukia remembered. As she walks under blue skies, with the sun shining brightly from above, she feels lighter somehow. As if this is the place where she’s meant to be. And when she sees the house in the distance, she can’t help but grin.

 As she reaches the door, there is a single moment of doubt. Rukia cannot stop herself from questioning if she made the right choice or not. But as she takes a calming breath, she assures herself. Because if there is one thing in this world that Rukia knows better than she knows herself, it is Ichigo.

 And he has never failed her.

 So, with her heart leaping through her throat, she knocks the door.

 Not a second later, he is there, openly gaping at her.

 “Long time no see, Ichigo.”

 Rukia can’t help but smile.

 He looks just the same as always, if a bit out of breath.

 Then, warm arms envelope her.

  She’s made it home.

[maraudersandlily20]

this one's sad but something about Harry and Remus after Sirius's death?

There was, in the days after Sirius’s death, a moment when Harry felt the real impact of everything that had happened. He was sitting alone, half way into the water, his pants soaking. The rational part of Harry told him that he could catch cold, sitting in the water, or that there were creatures under the surface that were full of malintent.  But, the rest of his mind that was numb and seeking the grounding of anything physical to the world thought that sitting in the water was as good as he was going to get.

It was late June, and he could feel it. The air was growing warmer and everywhere on the school grounds was the feelings of anticipation of summer break. Harry had been excited about the summer months just a few weeks before, looking forward to when he would get to spend a lot of quality time with...

The numbness sunk in again. He had been walking in a daze, unable to process what people were saying to him, or if he was actually existing the past few days. He couldn’t quite get a foot into reality. He couldn’t sleep, he barely ate. He simply didn’t feel like it. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the dark curtain that waved dramatically as his person fell through. So he tried to keep his eyes open.

Harry was lost in thought, feeling the cold water splash against his skin, and so he didn’t see Remus standing a bit away, watching him, carrying a small note from Minerva. She had practically begged him to visit the school and try to get through to Harry. Since his explosion in Dumbledore’s office, he had become practically a walking corpse.

Remus understood, of course. That feeling of grief was one he was quite familiar with. It had been his close and faithful companion since he was 17 years old. But he worried. He worried how someone as broken as he would be able to comfort another broken person.

He took a deep breath before taking off his shoes and his socks and wading into the water til he was standing beside Harry. The water was cold, but not unbearable. Harry had no reaction to his presence, didn’t even spare him a glance, but that didn’t deter Remus. He simply sat down, submerging his lower half, like Harry had done, and looked out across the water. It felt like someone’s cruel idea of a joke, that the world was so warm and bright, so open and free, and these two people only felt darkness.

“Minerva asked me to check on you,” Remus said, his voice a whisper. Harry nodded, but said nothing. Remus was unsure of himself, unsure of what Harry needed, and so he opened his mouth and let whatever he wanted come out.

“My mother passed away when I was 17. She was sick for a long time. I had used her illness as an excuse for my monthly disappearances, but there was some truth to it in the end.” Remus grabbed a handful of dirt and pebbles, watching them sift through his hands and away with the lapping water, repeating the movement again and again.

“It was cancer. Such a silly muggle illness with no rhyme or reason to it. My father didn’t recognize the signs until it was too late. For some reason, magic couldn’t heal her, and neither could the muggle doctors. And she died. It was... hard. Hard to bear. Hard to find that my mother had died due to an illness I couldn’t prevent.”

Harry was quiet, the words of his old friend starting to penetrate his mind. He realized he didn’t know much about Remus Lupin, and found himself curious to the point of the story. 

“I always thought that I would end up killing my mother. Whether it be from stress or an accident during shifting. It was always a looming thought over my head every time I went home. But it never happened. I would go home and my mother would bake, and we would fish, or pick flowers, or garden. She had this little pack of ducklings that treated her like a mother and followed her every move whenever she stepped outside.” His eyes grew misty and he smiled. “I haven’t thought about those ducks in a while.” He looked over to Harry, who was still looking away, but Remus could tell he was listening. 

“it’s interesting, when I remember her death now. I don’t remember much of the actual day, but I remember the day before, when I spent the afternoon in the hospital. She had been feeling uncharacteristically well. She asked me for an arm and she pulled her I.V. along with her. We looked quite a sight, I’m sure, but mom didn’t mind. She just wanted to walk. We went through the entire floor, saying hello to familiar nurses and friends that she had made.” Remus turned his eyes to the horizon, as if picturing it all like he was there again. There was a bit of silence, as if Remus was gathering his strength about the whole thing. He hadn’t spoken about these experiences for many years, and it was easy to tell. Harry let his gaze wander over to him, noticing his sad but touched expression. 

Remus pushed on. “We talked about anything and everything, from flowers to bees to the type of parchment to use. She asked me about the future, what I wanted to be when I grew up, what I was looking for in someone I loved. I don’t know if my mom knew about me and Sirius, but I assume she did. We were writing to each other constantly and I have never been one to hide my feelings very well.”

Remus turned slightly, trying to face Harry more in the water. The young boy looked up at him, his eyes red. He pulled them off of his face and tucked them into his shirt. “Go on,” he said, his voice quiet.

“When I left the hospital, I asked my mother if she could do one thing in the whole world, what it would be. And you know what she said? She said, I wish I could sit in my garden and watch the sunset, and feel the love of the world forever.” Remus rubbed at the tears coming out of his eyes, but he was smiling. 

“After she died, I was sitting in front of her grave, asking her why she had to go so soon, why she couldn’t have fought just a little harder. Why she had left me alone in such a scary time. I stayed there for hours, watching as the sun got deeper in the sky. I felt very very very alone.” 

“Did Sirius show up?” Harry asked, sounding very much like a boy who had had a bad dream.

“He did.” Remus pulled up his knees and rested his arms on top of them. “My father probably told him where I was. He came and sat beside me, just like this, not saying a word. He loved me in a way I had never been loved, but in that moment, I think he understood me more than he ever had.” He sighed, deeply, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen to clear out the feelings he had inside. “We sat in front of her grave in silence until Sirius told me the story of how he had gone to the hospital to visit her, without me knowing. He had bought her flowers and read her a book, and stayed there for hours til the nurses kicked him out. I asked why he had never told me. And I’ll never forget what he said.”

Remus looked over at Harry, his tears coming in earnest. “He said, “I didn’t go for you. I went because, if Hope Lupin could raise someone as good as you, then maybe she could have something good for me.” He shook his head. “He went because of the person she was, and wanted to take a little bit of that for himself.”

Harry looked ahead again, watching the sunlight shimmer against the water as they sat in silence. “He told me, you know.” Harry said finally. Remus looked over at him curiously. “He told me about you and him. He told me how you had loved each other when you were younger, like how my dad and mom had loved each other. He said, though, that now it was different. You both had changed too much to ever find your way back to each other like you had before.” Harry turned to him “Was that true?”

“Partly,” came the quiet response. “The boy that fell in love with Sirius Black didn’t exist when Sirius’ name was cleared. In his place was a tired old man who had seen enough heartache to last a lifetime. It was... difficult. To let him back in. But we tried. We tried so hard. When you love someone that much, Harry, you would do anything to make things work.”

Harry nodded. His gaze landed in his lap, where his hands were soaking in the cold water. “I don’t think Sirius was afraid of anything,” he whispered. “Even when he was alone and hiding, he always pushed on and came out the winner. He seemed so fearless, so... invincible.”

“Sirius was stronger than anyone I had ever met before, except my mother.” Remus agreed before placing a soft hand on Harry’s arm. “But you’re wrong. He was afraid of one thing; he was afraid of what this world would do to you. He was afraid of how you would see him. He was afraid that you would lose the parts of yourself that made you... you. The ones that seemed ingrained into you, the parts that you inherited from your parents. He was afraid of seeing you broken. He was not stronger than that fear. It was with him every moment of every day. It was his worst nightmare.”

For the first time in days, Harry felt tears rush to the surface and pour out of his eyes. He cried, thinking of the one person in the world who saw him, who loved him, who would have taken care of him, and how that person was gone. “I don’t know how to do it, Remus,” he sobbed, his voice catching. “I don’t know how to go on without him. I’m so tired of losing everyone I love. But I never thought I’d- I never thought I’d lose him.”

It was then that Remus crossed the invisible line between them and wrapped the boy in his arms in a hug. Harry let out a gasping cry, clinging tight to the only person who seemed to understand his grief. It was a pain in his chest that he thought might never be filled. 

“I wish I could say it got easier,” Remus said, stroking Harry’s hair comfortingly. “I wish I could say that one day, you’ll wake up and be perfectly fine. But you won’t.” He pulled back. “Losing someone you love doesn’t get better, it doesn’t miraculously heal. It leaves a hole inside of you that cannot be filled by anyone else. And though it doesn’t go away, you start to learn to live with it. It takes a lot of time. But it happens.”

Harry pulled away, wiping his nose with his shirt. “I just wish there was a place for him. A place that we could go to talk to him. But there’s nothing left. Just... emptiness, just the lack of him.”

Remus perked, having an idea. “Come with me,” he said, rising from the water and watching as the droplets fell off him. He offered Harry a hand and watched as the boy rose. They looked quite the sight, their lower halves completely drenched. But Remus ignored it and pushed on. 

He and Harry walked toward the large whomping willow which was swaying slightly in the June breeze. As they approached, it was like it sensed them and perked up in case of danger. But Remus started to whistle and the tree grew still. He bent over and picked up a flat stone before making his way to the trunk of the tree. Harry didn’t understand what they were doing, but watched like he was hypnotized. Remus took out his wand and whispered a spell under his breath before beginning to write on the stone. When he finished, he held it up for Harry to see. “Here lies Sirius Orion Black. The only person in the world brighter than the star he was named for.”

Remus bent over to place the stone against the trunk of the tree and patted the bark. “Sirius always loved this tree. He said it was misunderstood and mistreated, just like him, but when you stopped for a moment and tried to see the beauty of it, tried to understand why it acted certain ways, it became less of a threat and more of a beauty. And I have never looked at this tree the same since.”

“Sirius was always good at seeing things differently, seeing both sides of things.” Harry murmured. “He never wanted anyone to feel the way he had growing up, with a family that didn’t love or understand him. I think his desire to see the best in every second is what’ll I’ll miss the most.”

“Hmm,” came the soft reply. “I think I will miss his ability to make any moment a moment of light, with just his smile. I don’t think I’ll ever see anything like it again.”

Harry leaned over and wrapped his arm around Remus’ waist. “I’m sorry you lost him.” he said, letting the tears stream from his eyes.

“I’m sorry you lost him too,” Remus answered.

And they stood there, under Sirius’ misunderstood tree, looking at a stone that bore his name and encapsulated just a bit of his spirit, and felt the loss of their person together. It was heavy and dark, but the memory of him gave Harry a moment of peace. And he had hope that the hole that Remus talked about might become less looming and more manageable, like a friend that would remind him of how not to take good things for granted, and to look for beauty in unexpected places.