#man I really fought the colours on this piece and lost

[ministarfruit]

for tempustober2023 day 2: snow white

[thefriendlyghvst]

melancholia // jjk nanami kento

⚠️ WARNING: JJK MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠️

a/n: this is not accurate to the manga HAHAHA if that's what you're expecting i am so sorry. i also wrote this before the release of the newer chapters, so yeah, not accurate at all.

enjoy!! xx

- nur

*****

"wake up, angel," smooth and soothing, your husband called you to wake up from your sleep.

"five more minutes," you mumbled at him, turning over to face his side of the bed.

he chuckled. "we don't have five more minutes, baby,"

your eyes were still closed as you smiled at him and reached over, only for your hand to fall flat against the surface of the mattress, the spot where nanami was supposed to occupy, empty and cold. you wanted to peel your eyes open and get up to find him, but the sinking feeling in your chest was screaming at you to go back to sleep. to go back to where he actually was. in your head.

soon, the sinking feeling in your chest turned into a lump in your throat and you sat up, fully awake now. your eyes were already open and teary.

we don't have five more minutes.

he was right. you didn't have anymore time with each other. he was gone forever, and you had to live with that for the rest of your life. the lump in your throat turned into choked sobs, and you cried and cried until you grew tired again.

this was how you spent your nights ever since the news reached you that that nanami kento was not coming back from shibuya to you alive. he wasn't even coming back to you in one piece. they had gathered what they could, and for at least an hour, fought you off when you tried to see him. yuuji, mostly, held you back and the kid alone was supposed to be strong enough, but even he had lost someone dear to him, so he had ijichi's help. they didn't want you to see the state your husband was in, claiming that you wouldn't be able to take it.

"please let me in, he's my husband!" you screamed and tried to push through the both of them.

the tears flowed down your cheeks in hot streams, burning your eyes. the feeling in your heart was indescribable. it really felt like someone had ripped it out and stabbed it a million times, and then did a terrible job at sewing it back in your chest. you knew you wouldn't be able to handle looking at his lifeless body, but you had to. you couldn't believe nanami - your nanami, was gone forever.

"please," you sobbed.

you looked at yuuji in the eye, and the kid let you through. and how you wish he held onto you so much harder and dragged you home instead.

when you finally saw him, you felt all the colour drain from your face. ieiri did not expect you to be able to come in, and immediately ran in front of you to cover him up with a blanket. or what's left of him. you grabbed onto her hand to stop her, gripping so hard that from the corner of your eye you could see the doctor wince.

the man that was once your husband, your lover, your knight in shining armour, was now nothing but dust and broken bones, and his lower half. nanami didn't deserve this. you didn't deserve this. no one deserves to go like this. or see the love of their life end up like this.

the wind was knocked out of you. you couldn't breathe and the room began to spin. you let go of ieiri's arm and took half a step closer, before your knees buckled and you fell onto the cold tiled floor. you heard a blood-curdling scream and only realised it was coming from you when your throat felt like it was being ripped out. ieiri was holding onto you, also on the floor as footsteps rushed over and you were being held by another pair of arms. yuuji cradled you as shoko stood to cover up nanami's remains.

the doctor and young sorcerer did not say anything and let you grieve, screaming and crying. you sobbed into yuuji's shoulder as he continued to hold your shaking body in his arms.

"i'm so sorry. i'm sorry y/n-sensei. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," the boy whispered into your hair, apologising profusely.

you wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, that it wasn't his sin. he was just a kid, and just like nanami, you treated him as your own kid brother, or even as a son. you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that as much as you didn't believe it, things were going to be alright. no words could come out of your mouth, so you opted to grab his hand and squeeze it in your grip. you hoped that he could get the message, blinking through your tears.

time seemed to slow, but yuuji stayed glued to your side for what felt like hours. he helped you off the floor when you had no more tears left to shed, holding onto you so you did not fall since the both of you had been sitting on the floor in the same position for longer than an hour. you told ieiri to do what had to be done, and that you will sign all the legal documents later.

when you somewhat regained yourself, you gently peeled off itadori's hand from your arm and managed a smile at him. you told him you'd go home and freshen up a little before the funeral, even though that wasn't your plan at all. you were going to find who did this, and make sure the fucker regrets ever being brought into this world. cursed spirit or not.

and then you would join kento and be with him forever, just as you promised each other. in life, and in death.

"sensei, you're a good liar, but i've been around you and nanami-san for long enough to know your tells," he said softly, sadness in his voice.

he insisted on following you home, refusing to leave your side in case you did anything stupid. you declined, lying again and hoping he believed you this time. you even begged him, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. you were frustrated, and desperate. you couldn't just let nanami go like this.

please let me do this, itadori. you thought.

"sensei, please. i can't lose you too," and you felt your heart shatter all over again.

it had been almost a year since that day, and though you think you're improving during the day, the nights just seem to get harder for you. every night you would dream of him and wake up crying, and you would cry about him even before you went to sleep. some nights you didn't sleep at all, not willing to see him in your dreams and wake up disappointed and depressed all over again.

in the morning, you'd miss him. you would miss tying his tie for him as he got ready. you'd miss his tender kisses and light touches, his scent, and his cooking. you would miss every part of him for every part and every second of your day. the apartment home that was once filled with your laughter and his warmth was now deafeningly silent and cold. with every passing hour, you would miss the man you vowed to love forever even more, and every time you did, the wedding band on your left finger would remind you of its weight.

you would kiss it softly, thinking that the sudden weight was nanami's reminder that he was with you, always. in life and in death.

you woke up tired. your sleep was restless, and the sound of the morning traffic outside of the window when the sun rose did not let you sleep in this morning. it was bright and sunny, and birds flew over your window as soon as you opened your eyes, chirping happily.

you sighed while rubbing your eyes and sitting up. they were puffy and your nose was red, you realised as soon as you saw yourself in the mirror. you had gotten up to take a shower and start your day. the sight of your reflection almost made you want to laugh, in a pathetic and dejected way.

why did he have to leave me like this?

you shook your head and washed your face, then stepped into the shower once you picked out some new clothes to wear. when you felt better and slightly refreshed, you decided to go and pay your late husband a visit. you stepped out of the bathroom and sighed again, a sinking feeling planting itself into your chest.

your outfit was simple. you had picked out a white long sleeved a-line sundress that reached just below your knees, pairing it with a silver watch that nanami had bought for you as a birthday gift a few years ago and the silver chain that held his wedding ring and a heart shaped locket that had his initial engraved. you had that done a week ago for your anniversary.

with a small exhale, you gathered your things in your purse, spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists, and put on your shoes. you opted for a pair of flats since you would walk around a lot today. you had taken a month break when you thought it would not get better for you, and wanted to go back to work soon. with your keys in your hands, you glanced at your watch to look at the time. 10.30am. the flower shop down the street could already be open, so you quickly left and locked the door behind you.

-

the columbarium was quiet, breeze gently swaying the leaves that hung over its walls and the potted plants beside it. you slowly approached the row that held nanami's urn, a familiar feeling bubbling in your chest, where your heart ached the closer you stepped towards it. you shifted the bouquet of flowers in your hand to the other, bringing two fingers to your lips, kissing them, and then pressing them to the glass surface that protected your husband's ashes and the photo of the both of you that was placed beside it.

"hi, my love," you whispered, letting your hand fall back to your side.

"how have you been?" you asked, to no one in particular. "i brought you flowers... and your favourite bread from that bakery you liked,"

you knew there wasn't going to be a response, but you kept talking anyway. you didn't want to think that he was actually gone, so you stood there and talked to the picture of you and your husband. you knew you probably shouldn't, but you figured it would help you cope. at least for the time being.

"it's been tough. i'm sorry it took me so long to come and see you,"

silence.

"i miss you so much, kento," you paused, your voice getting impossibly softer as you whispered.

a lump was beginning to form in your throat as it got harder for you to speak. your voice broke as you tried again, tears streaming down and staining your cheeks.

"everyday. more than you think, more than you would ever know," your voice was thin as you tried not to crumble.

you opened the glass with the key you were given and gently placed the flowers you bought on top of the ones already there, not taking them out since the flowers still looked pretty fresh. someone else must have been here, you thought.

when you closed and locked the small door again, you felt a breeze behind you and a familiar scent overtook your senses. then, you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. you sighed, the tears threatening to fall again as you felt yourself relax into his embrace. there was no mistake, you could recognise this man by touch alone.

"all dressed up for me, sweetheart?" you heard him whisper in your hair, his chin resting gently on your shoulder.

"kento," you sigh out his name, trying not to cry again.

"oh no, baby, shh," he cooed. "don't cry,"

he soothed you, lifting his head and brushing his lips against your temple. you kept quiet, not daring to move. you were afraid he was going to be gone again if you did. you felt him sway both your bodies side to side a little and you let yourself follow his movements, quietly enjoying his presence. his chin was back on your shoulder, his nose buried into the crook of your neck as you stood there.

"you look so beautiful, princess," he complimented softly, his lips brushing your neck as he spoke. "my y/n,"

"nanami," you began. "come back to me, please,"

you turned around to face him, gathering the courage to look at your husband in the eye. you thought you would see him burnt on one side of his face, or that he'd be gone, but he remained. in front of you he stood, handsome and perfect as ever.

he was still holding onto your waist, keeping your body close to him as he gazed at you. the look on his face was a mixture of everything. his eyes showed nothing but pure love and fondness, but his eyebrows were furrowed in regret, and a small, sad smile settled on his lips. he was wearing a white dress-shirt, similar to the ones he used to wear when he was alive, and his hair, dirty blonde, was neatly styled in his signature side part. he wasn't wearing his glasses, but you didn't care. you got to see your nanami again, and that was enough.

your eyes blurred with tears as you swallowed, the lump in your throat making the simple action hurt. the ache you felt in your chest was almost unbearable as you reached up to touch nanami's face. he smiled wider a little at you, his gaze soft as he leaned into your touch. you choked on a sob when you felt him lean his forehead against yours.

"i'm sorry for breaking my promise, y/n," he muttered, his eyes closed. "i'm so sorry, my love,"

the tears did not stop flowing. your eyes and cheeks burned with the heat they left, but you couldn't stop crying. nanami embraced you completely, engulfing you in his arms and his familiar scent. though you wished you could cry out in agony, you stifled your sobs. you missed him so damn much, it was killing you on the inside. when nanami died, it felt like a part of you went with him. your whole world, your happy little world filled with hopes and dreams, crashing down and destroyed in one moment.

the two of you pulled away after a moment, taking each other in. he studied your features, the same way he used to do when you did his tie for him in the mornings, the same way he used to do when you spoke and he listened, the same way he used to do all the time, as if trying to memorise every inch of your face.

you just wanted your husband back.

"my beautiful, beautiful, y/n," he declared quietly as he cupped your cheek in his hands.

"thank you for coming to me, my sweetheart. i love you," he uttered as he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead.

you didn't feel his soft lips press themselves onto your skin, but felt another gentle breeze blow past as you heard a voice say your name.

"y/n sensei?"

your eyes opened and you found yourself still facing the picture of you and nanami beside his urn. your heart sank again, but your hand subconsciously reached up to play with kento's ring and locket on your necklace. you planted a kiss on your own wedding band as an 'i love you too' before you turned around to face the owner of the voice that called you.

yuuji stood a few feet away from you, hands clasped together in front of him. in the few days you haven't seen him since he last checked on you, the kid seemed to look much older. your heart ached for him, too.

he was taking care of you all the time, but who was looking after this poor kid? he has been through so much more than all of your problems combined. with a warm smile, you opened your arms for him and he ran up to you for a hug.

the younger boy paid his respects to both nanami and his grandfather while you waited outside after paying your own respects to mr. itadori. your dress swayed with the gentle wind, the open columbarium's natural light and wind keeping the plants that decorated the place alive. birds flew ahead in the sunny blue sky, and the clouds moved in line with the earth's steady rotation. you inhaled and exhaled deeply, again playing with your necklace.

"i'm done," yuuji's voice said from behind you.

you turned around and smiled at him. with an arm around his shoulder - or the best of it you could do since he was slightly taller than you, the two of you walked out of the place together to head back.

"have you eaten?" you asked the teenager who was clad in his uniform.

he shook his head and you frowned, quickly rummaging through the bag of fresh bread that you bought so that you could pass him a sandwich. he refused to take it at first, but accepted it anyway when he saw how insistent you were.

you watched him munch happily on the sandwich, thinking, you knew he missed your husband too, and you vowed to yourself you'd protect him, the same way nanami had. it was your turn to take care of him, come what may.

nanami smiled to himself as he watched the two of you walk out of the place with smiles on your faces, talking and laughing with each other. it was nice to see you smile again, and he knew that you were both going to be okay in each other's good hands. he sighed.

i'll see you next time, my love. the both of you thought at the same time.

-

masterlist

[remsmoonlight]

— title : to hold on

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : it had been a long road since the Prison fell, and while you’ve been picking up the pieces you’ve lost your confidence you once had. During a respite from more trauma the world brings you, you share a quiet moment with Daryl.

— warnings : cursing, references to violence, general unsure about life kinda vibes

note : this is a little something to ease myself back into writing while i think i lowkey turn into a daryl blog, also i think i need to change from past tense because it keeps tripping me up oops

                            ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open ! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

No sound carried through the air, nothing except the rustling of the leaves from the trees that encompassed you completely as you surveyed the empty fields that spanned as far as your eyes could see. The space brought a semblance of serenity that embraced you far more than your own arms were able to as your fingers dug deep into the flesh of your upper arms as you fought so hard to keep composure.

Loss after loss after loss had drowned all the confidence that once lifted you entirely. It left the once unwavering will to crumble around you when the moment counted, softening too much under the weight as time would inch along in slow motion as your brain fought so hard to keep up a losing battle. Between the fall of the prison and on the road, your limbs would freeze up at the sign of conflict as your mind willed you to move, to help. Images flash before your mind of that cramped bathroom, only just managing to move out of the way before you’d gotten caught up in the scuffle.

I just want to go back

The temperature has dropped, yet the cold is the only thing keeping you grounded. It’s the only thing keeping you from dropping to your knees as you would be fighting for air, if there is one thing that could be done? That you can do? It’s to be present.

A slow and methodical crunch of the leaves that have long since floated to the ground pull you from your thoughts, you know it’s not a walker though, the lack of a signature snarl or the dragging of feet confirm the suspicion. Though is a walker any worse than a human being? You wonder. For every person who you’d seen humanity’s best offer against those who’d been dragged out of the deepest pits of darkness and blood who brought down horror upon horror to greet your nightmares like an old friend.

“ Y’alright? “

Unable to trust your voice, afraid that the flood barrier will finally break and bare your colours to the world, you simply nod. Of course, Daryl can read you like a book, one of which he has committed the pages to memory.

“ Nah, y’aint. “

“ Daryl. “ You shake your head, eyes dropping to the ground beneath your feet. “ I’m fine. “

“ Don’t shut me out. “ He urged gently, the material of your jacket twisting in his grip as he saw the sight of you.

“ No, I — “ You refused swiftly as your voice cut out, a large wave of anguish crashed against your barriers as you lost the strength to speak.  “ I’m fine. Really. “

“ Turn around. “

An “ uh uh “ passed through your lips, a hopeless excuse for a no fades into the air as if it had never been vocalised. You’re able to feel the indents your nails have made as they squeeze further and further into your skin. A deep yearning to disappear hits you with force, but part of you wonders if what you really want is to be found.

“ Just look a’ me, will ‘ya? “

Reluctantly, your body shifts from the empty space of which every inch that had been touched by the morning sun to face the man who you’d grown so close to.

The hours that had passed in silence since you’d reunited with the man felt like mere seconds that have slipped through your fingers with no resistance. It had been pure luck that you’d even managed to pair up with Michonne through the sea of fire and smoke that lit the sky above you up, barely, you’d managed to hang on. You hadn’t realised the true extent of your fear and anxiety until both Michonne and Carl had gone out to scout for supplies and you’d volunteered to stay back with Rick — though, you knew it was your cowardice speaking on your behalf.

“ Y’wanna talk now? “

Your teeth bit at your lips as you chewed them, silently debating whether you should share what’s on your mind with the man or hold it close to your chest — of course, that would drag the situation further. You knew Daryl was unstoppable when he put his mind to it.

“ I don’t know if I can do this anymore. “ Was muttered as you shift your weight from one side to the other as your thoughts are made real as you share them with Daryl.

“ Wha’ d’ya mean? “ He asked with a careful tone.

“ If I can survive. “

“ ‘Course ‘ya can. “ He assured heavily, there was no comfort settling upon him from where he could understand which direction this conversation was heading towards.

“ No, Daryl. “ You laugh with no humour, a strange tone dousing your words with its darkness. “ You haven’t seen me. What I’ve become. “

He made cautious steps towards you, closing the short distance that felt more than what it really was. Life, to him, without your presence would blacken the world a shade further as the hollow space within him that you’d help to fill would become that much deeper than once before. All the words said, all the unspoken thoughts remind him that he needs never again to have yet another lesson in loss and grief, especially when it came to you.

“ Y’ain’t makin’ any sense. “

“ Back when Rick and I were in that house? When those guys showed up? “ You whimper as your eyes become glassy with moisture from the memory that you hold so close to your skin as it burns to see how much of it you can stand.  “ All I could do was watch and cower as they were fighting to the death. I — who does that? “

“ Y’been through a lot. I get it. “ He affirmed strongly, his eye contact serious and fixed as he stood there observing you.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was looking the same person — leaving him left to wonder exactly what had you been through. Back at the prison? He has a collection of memories of you being the first person to volunteer yourself for the line of danger or to be out on runs to ensure that nobody would be lacking in anything they so sorely required. What he was focusing on was a shell of a person, the ghost of an image he had seared into his mind. Not for long. You don’t deserve this, he thought.

“ We’ve all been through a lot… you’re all still so strong. “

“ You forgot it already?  “ Daryl questioned quietly, the silent statement of not answering the question bounced between the two of you. “ We’ve all been through some shit at one point or ‘nother. “

He was right, that you knew. Yet you couldn’t help but feel as if this was the end of the line.

“ Come on. “

“ I don’t want to go back just yet. “ You refuse, shaking your head as you speak.

“ Just a walk, won’t stray too far. “

A hand lifts some baggy material into your line of sight and it takes a few moments to realise it’s the jacket you left behind. One thing you found always grounded you was the cold, bringing you back down to reality to face the moment. You had moved to take it from Daryl but he shook his head, instead he moved behind you.

Not until this moment had you realised your days had left you drenched by a sea of loneliness until you felt the space between you close and he was settled close behind you as your arms felt the clothing cover the bareness your sleeves left. Many stolen moments behind closed doors away from prying eyes had been kept close to your heart, you had to after you both had spent too much time denying the fire that burned brightly between you before you’d allow it to shine its flames on what could be. How long has it been? You can’t help but ask yourself. What you’d give to feel skin on skin contact again.

Before you even realised what you were doing, you found yourself leaning back into him — you’d missed the body contact after so long. The image did not change for the few minutes that passed, he was relishing the moment just as much as you. The days and nights he’d spent out there with Beth and all he could see in the quiet moments was a walking corpse that wore your face. Truly, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of your death, but when left on watch alone as he gazed up to the sky, the thought would inch into his mind. Every time it would, the details would change and an alteration more gruesome than the last would take its place.

The two of you ended up walking in silence, there was a burst of contentment that briefly soothed the wounds internally that no longer bled. You’d found Michonne, Rick, Carl, and now Daryl. You had more hope that others had survived, that it was only a matter of time that your family would once again be complete, that the Governor had not succeeded in his plan to completely eradicate you all in order to make space for his version of the new world.

“ You’re bein’ too quiet. What’re y’thinkin ‘bout? “

“ Can y’keep quiet for five minutes? “

“ You love my noise. “

“ Yeah, like a hole in the head… pain in my ass, y’are. “

As much as you don’t want to, you smirk at the veiled insult from the man. “ I can’t believe we’ve found each other, it still blows my mind. “

Flashes of the nights you’d spent waking up from the nightmares where your mind would fill in the blanks of the day the prison fell shook you awake violently harder than any thunderstorm had the ability to, no matter how hard it would try. Every night was a different face, but the nights your mind would torment you with his face were the worst… you hadn’t said it, but you did love him.

“ Some fuckin’ luck, huh? “

“ I think we deserve it after everything. “ You sighed as you turned to face him. “ I thought you all were dead, I thought that you — “

“ Nah. “ Daryl spoke with a scoff, he didn’t want to see that dark cloud making its home over your head. “ Need somethin’ tougher to take me out. “

“ Please don’t joke about that. “

“ Shit… sorry. “

Your mind was able to truly grasp what it saw, and while you’d been running on the adrenaline of everything that hit you all at once, you could feel your limbs as they became weary and your soul aching to rest. After what happened before the sun rose to banish the darkness of which humanity’s depravity thrived and flourished in, you’d been unable to rest. Not even to close your eyes as you lay your head against the cool glass of one of the unbroken windows of the aged car. Yet, a piece of you can’t help but think the horror you’d almost fell to was worth it as it had brought Daryl back to you.

Perhaps you could walk out stronger, it would take time, but if you could see the faces you’d known as home again? You would fight against the waves that sought to drown you underneath the weight of their trauma, because perhaps it was braver to fight even if you had lost the ability to live. It was your maze to venture through, and venture through it you would.

“ I hope you won’t get sick of me, Daryl. “

“ Oh yeah? Why’s that? “

“ Because I am never letting you out of my sight again. “ You warned with a smirk as the edges of tension melted away as if they had never marred your features in the first place.

For a lingering second, Daryl simply observed you, as he took in every detail in fear you was no more than an illusion left to taunt him for all he couldn’t do and the lives he wasn’t able to save. To him? You were a gift the universe took its time in forging, a gift that he was wholly undeserving of, every time he set his eyes on you he couldn’t believe you were there — offering your unique light to bring up those around you.

He was thankful that he got a second chance because this one would not be wasted, he swore he would be there to pick up the pieces no matter how many there could be.

“ Yes ma’am. “

You felt a weight on your shoulders and realised he’d wrapped an arm around you, you have never felt safer than in that moment when he was sharing his strength with you, the featherlike touch of lips against the top of your head weighed heavier than imaginable but it was a weight that was comforting.

To you? Daryl Dixon was home.

[starlessea]

Eye For Detail (Daryl Dixon/Reader)​

Sequel to Sketchbook Confessions

Summary: You try to sketch Daryl in return. Except, you draw his smile a little crooked, and the eyes are wonky... And Daryl completely loves it.

Words: 2490

Warnings: Language.

The courtyard was still and quiet, free from the dinner-time rowdiness going on behind prison walls. Well, it was almost quiet; Daryl's scribbling over paper sounded out faintly beside you, as you watched him work. At first, he'd been opposed to the idea of company, but after a while it has become almost like a weekly tradition - in which you'd both bask in the comfortable silence together. You'd even started to bring your own notepad, in your attempts to learn how to sketch from the man.

At first, your drawings were anything but good. Sometimes, even you couldn't tell whether you'd drawn a landscape or a strange, abstract fruit bowl. Yet, Daryl was a good teacher. Where he lacked patience normally, it seemed like he had ample to spare with you. He'd shown you how to use the different charcoals, and had even come back with more art supplies after his latest run.

It was coming up to dusk, and the sky was a brilliant mix of blue and grey hues. There were clouds gathering overhead, too, and you wondered whether there was a storm brewing behind them. Your notepad remained closed over your lap, since you still hadn't gathered the confidence to open it yet. Daryl hadn't noticed, however - too absorbed in his own work to pick up on the way you tentatively thumbed over the spine of your book.

"I tried to draw a person the other day," you finally admitted, "I don't know how you do it."

Daryl stopped what he was doing, rubbing circular motions over the paper to try and blend out his charcoal lines. He looked over at you, and you laughed gently at the black fingerprints littering his cheeks.

"Who was it?" he mumbled, eyeing you as you gathered your sleeve over your hand.

You shuffled over to the man slightly, and used the material to wipe away the charcoal stains over his skin, feeling him squirm slightly beneath your touch as you did so.

"It was you," you told him, and finally he kept still.

His stare bore into you, and suddenly it felt as though you'd been set on fire. You regretted the words as they came out of your mouth, and edged away from Daryl as soon as you'd finished cleaning him up.

You cleared your throat, trying to think of an excuse you knew he wouldn't believe. You sighed, knowing it was no use.

"Well, it was a poor attempt at Daryl," you confessed, glancing down at your sketchbook sheepishly. "Maybe a Darren at best."

You'd expected him to laugh at your joke, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed intrigued. He closed his own notepad, and you worried about whether the charcoal would smudge.

"Show me." Daryl said softly, his eyes flickering over to your lap.

You bit your lip, wiping off the cover of your sketchbook before opening it.

"Don't laugh," you warned him, shaking your head slightly.

You didn't think that he would, but you suddenly felt self-conscious. You'd drawn the portrait in your cell a few nights ago when you couldn't sleep - with the page illuminated by soft lamp-light. You remembered the feeling of the linen sheets beneath you as you sprawled out over your mattress, trying your best to shade the stubborn parts. You had tried - really you had. Except, you'd discovered that art came more naturally to some than others.

"Your eyes are crooked, and I drew your nose too big." you grimaced, settling your gaze over the portrait as you inspected its faults. "I'm sorry."

In natural lighting, it looked a lot worse than you had remembered. You tried to snap the book closed, but Daryl's palm prevented you from doing so. He was silent, and you watched his eyes slowly trail over the paper, taking in all of the details.

"Fine, you can laugh," you exclaimed, overwhelmed by his lack of response. "Okay, just say something-"

"Can I keep this?" Daryl interrupted, glancing up to meet your eyes.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It took a few seconds to comprehend his words, before you finally shook your head a little too quickly.

"No!" you cried, trying to snatch the book from his grasp. "I can draw you a better one."

Daryl didn't give up his grip, and only shook his head back at you in return.

"Nah, I wan' this one."

Any argument you had bubbling up was quickly quelled when you caught sight of his expression. He seemed deadly serious, and you felt your own fingers loosen over the sketchpad as a result. The man slipped it away from you, and brought the book onto his own lap, continuing to look over it.

"But it's bad," you retorted, weakly.

You knew you had lost at this point. You had learned your stubbornness from Daryl himself, after all. The man never was one to know when to back down.

The courtyard seemed a lot darker than it had only a few minutes ago. The clouds had gathered to be more dense and thick, and blocked out the remaining light left over from the setting sun. It would be hard to keep drawing like this, you thought - yet, Daryl seemed more preoccupied now.

"E'eryone gotta start somewhere" he told you, "an' I don' want ya to throw it out."

You watched as he trailed his charcoal-stained, calloused fingers along the page - careful not to leave any marks over the pristine, white paper. Even your sketchbooks looked worlds apart from one another. Yours was neat, each drawing labelled, and your lines clean; Daryl's was a collection of blackened fingerprints alongside scrawled handwriting, and the occasional crumpled page.

"Shoulda seen my first drawings," Daryl went on, looking out towards the field, and at the forest behind it. "Merle found one when I was a kid an' told me it was a shit donkey."

You cocked your head to the side, listening to him.

"Was meant to be superman," he explained, with an expression far too serious for his words.

You snorted, and the man whipped his head over to scowl at you.

"I'm sorry-" you choked out, not missing the way his lips quivered as they fought back a smile of his own. "I must have swallowed a bug."

Not long after that, the feeling in your gut turned out to be right. The storm clouds had finished gathering, and soon the first droplet of rain landed over your paper - smudging the line you'd just drawn. You glanced over at Daryl, but before he'd even had time to reply, the downpour started. It went from a single raindrop to a raging storm in a matter of seconds, leaving you both scrambling to collect the strewn sheets of paper and charcoal pieces trembling over the ground. With your supplies bundled up in your arms, the two of you ran towards the cellblock - yelling through the sounds of the rain along the way.

Once you had reached Daryl's cell, you were soaked through. The man had dragged you there since it was closer, but it hardly made a difference. Your shirt was stuck to your skin, and you were left clutching soggy handfuls of paper - bleeding ink over Daryl's stone floor. He helped you set down the supplies onto his desk, gathering up whatever was salvageable, and throwing the rest away. Luckily, most of the pastels and charcoals had been kept safe, but a lot of loose sheets had been sacrificed to the greater good in the process.

You laughed, taking in the sight of the man. His hair stuck damply to his forehead, and you watched as stray droplets ran over his cheeks. He quickly glanced around the room and retrieved one of his shirts, before offering it to you. You took it from him and smiled, waiting for Daryl to turn his back on you before starting to change.

"Looks like the weather had other plans," you noted, pulling the dry shirt over your head. "At least it washed away that god awful drawing I did of you."

You untucked your hair from the collar, and smoothed out the material over your body. Behind you, you heard the sound of a zip, and peered over your shoulder to see Daryl taking off his own leather jacket. As he did so, you noticed that he'd been concealing something beneath it, and squinted to try and make out what it was.

"Looks jus' fine to me," the man mumbled, holding up the dry piece of paper for you to see.

You scoffed; he'd stuffed your drawing there to keep it safe. You couldn't prevent the smile spreading over your face as you looked at him in disbelief. He gave you a teasing smirk back, before setting the picture carefully onto his desk with the others.

"Y'know," Daryl said quietly, "s'a lot easier to draw from real life."

You glanced over at your drawing, knowing what he was getting at. You were acutely aware of its flaws, but you just didn't have the experience to know how to fix them yet.

"I know what you look like," you quipped back.

It was the truth. Perhaps you even knew a little too well.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before walking over to where you were standing.

You could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe you. One of the first things he'd taught you was that there could never truly be a good enough replacement for the real thing. Though, you had to disagree. You felt like you knew exactly how Daryl Dixon looked - you just couldn't translate it to paper.

The man stopped directly in front of you, so close that you could see his chest rising and falling. He lifted one hand slowly, tentatively even, so that you didn't get scared by his actions. Then, he hovered his palm gently over your eyelids, flicking them shut so that your world went dark.

"What colour are m'eyes?" he asked.

His hand was cold over your face, from where the rain had soaked his skin. You knew that he was trying to teach you a lesson, but you thought that perhaps you'd use the opportunity to teach him one back.

"Blue," you answered, without hesitation.

You desperately wanted to see the man's expression, but all you could do was imagine it.

"An' what-" Daryl continued, but you cut him off.

"A greyish blue," you went on, not entirely satisfied with your answer. "Like the colour of the sky before a storm."

Daryl removed his hand from over your eyes, but you kept them shut. Your fingertips brushed over the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, and you felt like you could picture the way it looked in your mind just from the texture of the material.

"Your hair is brown. The same shade as that desk near your bed," you told him, pointing in the direction you remembered it to be. "And it falls just above your neck, and is slightly curly at the ends." You laughed, considering your next words. "Especially just after you wash it."

Daryl remained silent, and you tried to picture the type of look he had in his eyes. You thought that perhaps you should stop, that you'd made your point clear - but you were in too deep to turn back now.

"And you have two moles," you said quietly - and wondered whether he had heard your voice tremble, too.

You reached out your hand slowly, trying to find the other man. Your palm made contact with his chest, and you let your fingertips trail up until you reached his neck, and then his face.

"One by your nose," you told him, resting your palm over his cheek, "and the other near your lip."

You tried to find it, but your thumb accidentally brushed over his lip, instead. Your heart jumped in your chest, and your eyes flickered open unintentionally.

"I'm sorry-" you blurted out, but the words tapered off as you noticed Daryl's stare.

The man stood perfectly still in front of you, letting your hand rest over his cold, damp skin. You quickly pulled away, glancing off to the side nervously. Though, the both of you knew that you'd gone too far to make any poor excuses now. You'd passed a boundary, but you couldn't say that you wanted to take a step back, either.

"Tha's one eye for detail ya got," Daryl said, after a few seconds had gone by.

You shook your head. "Only when it comes to you," you admitted.

Daryl looked off to the side, and then back, but you continued before he had the chance to interrupt.

"I know I'm not the best artist, but I wanted to show you how you look through my eyes, too."

Daryl raised his hand again, but this time it wasn't to block out your sight. Instead, he just rested his palm softly over your cheek - and despite how cold it was, you leant into his touch.

"Ya jus' did," he said, and gave you a small smile.

You could still hear the storm outside, as the occasional breeze whistled its way past the cracks of the cell block, or made the tree branches batter up against the windows. Sometimes, the draft even made those loose sheets flutter over the desk, in a kind of muffled, paper applause.

"Maybe I should just swap out pencils for words," you told the man. "They seem to do the job better."

He nodded in agreement, letting his hand drop back down to his side.

"Hey, Daryl?" you asked, but you already had his full attention.

"Mhm."

You decided to put your words into practice straight away, so that you wouldn't forget exactly how you felt in this moment.

"You mean a lot to me," you admitted, "in a way I don't think I'd ever be able to describe."

Daryl's eyes widened slightly, and you wished to have the talent to capture that expression with pencil and charcoal one day.

"But I still wanted to try," you finished, and waited for his response.

Except, Daryl wasn't a man of words - and he reminded you of that as he reached for his sketchbook. His fingers were still damp, and you watched as they left watery prints over the pages as he flicked through them. He finally stopped once he reached the last one, showing you his latest sketch.

It was stained with raindrops that hadn't dried yet, from where the storm had first broken out and Daryl hadn't reacted quick enough. Yet, even though it was a little smudged and wrinkled, you could still make out that it was you - from where you had been sitting right next to him in that courtyard.

The man set the book down so that the page remained open on his desk, and picked up the other loose-sheet drawing that you'd done of him - and placed them together.

"Me too," Daryl said.

And that was all you needed to hear.

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A/N AHH. I just loved this 2 part story.

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[papergirllife]

First Love

Lucas Wong / Yukhei

"They say first love is a special experience that one would always hold a special place in your heart. Wong Yukhei was your first love in high school, but along the way, you had to say goodbye to him in order for him to achieve his dream of becoming a star in Korea. Yet fate and destiny plays its role in paving the two of you an intersection once more, will the two of you and up together at the very end?"

Warnings : smut, unprotected sex, mild angst, a child (pregnancy not described), tooth rotting fluff (all in that order, kinda)

A/N : this is one of my most heavily devoted works I've ever written, so please, of you're comfortable, drop a feedback to tell me if you guys like this writing style, thank you!

Lucas Wong of NCT and most importantly his own fixed unit, Wayv, the man who garners attention and love wherever he goes, that dazzling smile is sure to be captured by numerous cameras of awaiting fans.

But to you, Lucas was never Lucas, to you he was Yukhei, and more significantly, your ex from high school. Yukhei was your first love, you remember when the two of you had first met in Year 9, Yukhei was known for being a class clown and more of a klutz, girls would always have a soft spot for him even if they didn't like him in that way.

Yukhei was your desk mate for Year 10, the thing got you on your nerves about him was that he never took group assignments seriously, and was never at school on time, his uniform was wrinkly from rushing out of his house to catch the bus and always had a stationary missing, which means he had to borrow yours.

You never hated him, hate is a strong word, things were very neutral with him, most times, he unintentionally annoys you, but he'd always make up to you by bringing you a small bottle of apple juice the next day. The only time the two of you really fought was when he had not spoken up when his friends snatched your book away from yours to copy you off, brushing it off as a small matter.

You were quite an immature person back then, and no one can blame you, you were just a teenager, and being said that, you had refused to lend Yukhei a ruler when the math teacher did a pop quiz, so he had to use the dust pan as no one, other than you that is, brings an extra ruler.

It's not your fault, you thought back then, he shouldn't have depended on you to bring his share of stationaries. The next day, you walked into class to see his group of friends waiting at your desk to apologize to you, and as for Yukhei, he had yet again brought you a bottle of apple juice, with the addition of your favourite bar of Cadbury.

It was only in Year 11 when Yukhei had confessed to you, saying that all those annoying things he did to you were just to catch your attention, of all the girls he could've liked, he chose the one who was the most unattainable, go figure.

The next year, when the two of you were looking to apply to the same college, Yukhei broke the news to you that he'd be packing his bags for Korea, that the audition he had joined just for fun accepted him as a trainee in a large entertainment company in Korea that everyone in Hong Kong knows, SM.

At first you didn't approve of his decision, that his education was important as well, that he had a life here, with you. But Yukhei had given very valid reasons to you, that he wouldn't have passed the college entrance exams if it weren't for your tuitions until late at night in the public library, that he didn't really have an interest in studying. His most valid reason was that he didn't want to take a toll on you when you’re in college, he can't have you sacrifice your sleep and attention for him just to have him attain passing grades.

So you let him go, saying your last farewell to him at the airport as his girlfriend and ex girlfriend.

That was the last time you saw him, choosing to not stay in contact with him as you poured your soul into university life, studying like your life depends on it, you had a few boyfriends here and there, nothing serious, nothing that made you felt like your first love. Maybe you had trouble moving on, or maybe it was just stress, you thought back then, shrugging the thought off casually before diverting your attention else where, this cycle carried on until you came out to work.

Fast forwarding to March of 2019, you had unintentionally came across of a news online that Yukhei had finally been placed in his own fixed unit that would be promoting and performing in Chinese, which isn’t surprising, even the Thai member, Ten, was of Chinese heritage. What made your eyes widen was the fact that they were coming to Hong Kong.

At the day of the fan meet, you had took the day off from your boring low paying job at the law firm, so much for studying your ass off for bar exams, you’re just filing on a daily basis.

Before the day of the fan meet, you had lived off of instant cup noodles for a few weeks just to buy the album and their light stick. When you first listened to the album, you were proud of Yukhei’s rapping skills, you still recall the days when he’d struggle with his mandarin oral tests, the teachers there must be much better than you for him to improve so much, smiling fondly at the old memories.

You waved the light stick and sang along just like the other fans beside you, mesmerised by the performance that the boys are putting up, but your eyes were mostly on Yukhei, you would’ve never thought the once clumsy giant like him would dance as fluidly, executing the moves just as well as the other smaller sized members.

You watch as Yukhei introduces himself and his non Cantonese members in his mother tongue, a feeling of familiarity settling into your mind.

You are quite a confident person, but queuing up to the long table where Yukhei sat at the corner was nerve wrecking to you, what would he say to you? Would he recognise you? It hasn't been that long, but the two of you had done some changes to your looks.

The other members had greeted you with a friendly smile and a few casual questions like have you eaten, but they seem a bit taken aback by the lack of fan girl attitude that most of the fans in front of you had.

When you had got to Yukhei, he had dropped his marker on the floor, his head ducked out of sight to retrieve it, but when he came up to apologise, the words were stuck in his throat, as his eyes opened as wide as saucers. He coughed to mask the surprise on his face.

“Hi, how are you?” He asked as he took your album into his hands, scribbling something down.

“Good, how have you been?” although his hair is coloured, his eyes had contacts, and he wasn't in his messy uniform, the smile on his face never changed.

“Great, it's nice to see you,” to other fans and the staff beside him, they might think it's just one of the standard answers, but you knew Yukhei like the back of your hand, registering the twinkle in his eyes.

Soon, he had placed the album back into your hands, your fingers grazing gently as tiny sparks flew up your tips, eyes never breaking contact until the staff tells you to leave.

When you had sat down at a nearby cafe to get a cup of coffee, you took out your album and flipped to the page where Lucas had written something.

‘Hilton hotel, 9pm,' and his number under it.

At nine sharp, you waited by the hotel’s sitting area, not many people at that time as usually stores in Hong Kong open rather late, patiently you waited for Yukhei. Just as you were scrolling through posts on Instagram, a tall figure approached you.

A call of your name rolled off his tongue naturally, a wave of nostalgia hitting the both of you.

“I bought you a little something before I got here,” you said as you stood up, letting him guide you to the elevators.

“What is it?” Yukhei lets out a flustered laugh, scratching the back of his nape when he realised he didn't get you anything in return.

“Roast goose and Cha Siew, are they still your favourite?” you asked, hoping his taste hasn’t changed over the years.

“Yeah, man, I remember how we'd always get quarter of both after school at Uncle Chan’s,” Yukhei said, remembering how the boss of the restaurant had hung a photo of two of you on the wall, deeming the two of you his most loyal lovebirds.

“This is from Uncle Chan’s,” you told him as you followed him into his room, looking around, expecting him to be rooming with someone.

“Don't worry, I told Yang Yang to sleep with Ten for the night,” Yukhei said when he saw you looking for someone.

“Oh, that's really nice of him,” you said as you set out the food, the smell of Hong Kong's famous delicacies wafting in the air.

“Man, I really missed this,” Yukhei said as he pulls the arm chair that was a few feet away close to the desk, directing you into it and situating himself in the not so comfortable wooden chair.

“I missed this too,” you said mindlessly, eyes avoiding his before you ate a piece of meat.

“I missed you too,” Lucas confessed, yes there are many pretty girls in his industry, and Korea itself, but no one would be able to replace you, you were his rock all his life, other than his family of course, it's hard to build a connection with someone just as strong when things between the two of you never really ended, in a way.

Leaving on too good terms and without much closure for both of you kept one another thinking of each other. The two of you know, that after tonight, things would go back to normal, Yukhei would be Wayv’s Lucas, and you’d remain as his past, there would never be an outcome from whatever happens tonight.

So when the two of you were recalling memories and troubles the two of you got in school on the oh so comfortable bed, you couldn't help it, hooking a leg over Yukhei’s waist, just like how it started at the night of the graduation party, the night where the two of you lost your virginities to each other.

“I’d be gone tomorrow, we shouldn’t, I shouldn't do this to you,” Yukhei said, a firm believer that it's always the girl that is on the losing side, like he's taking an advantage of you, ever the gentleman.

“I want this for myself, Yukhei, it's not like it's our first time,” you said, trying to convince him.

“I still feel guilty about our first time, I left a few months later after that night, and tomorrow would be the same, I'll be leaving you once more,” Yukhei said as his big hands caressed your cheeks, eyes wide like a puppy, pupils reflecting an image of you, a perfect representation of his universe, you.

“I don't care, I’ve moved on from you as your girlfriend all those years ago, moving on from you after tonight won't be a challenge for me,” you said in a firm tone, one that Yukhei knows all too well, he knows you won't give up when you sound like this.

He could possibly break two hearts if he chooses to act on his impulses, but he missed this, he missed you, and so he threw all caution out of the window when he smashed his lips desperately against yours, chewing on your bottom lip with little force, it was something that would easily get you worked up back then, and to his delight, it still worked, letting him dominate the kiss easily, he let his tongue slid in your mouth, tasting the beer the two of you had just now with a mixture of strawberry lip gloss, you were still using the Nivea one you used all those years ago, this only fuelled his desire for you, his hands leaving your cheeks to locate your waist, pulling you closer to him.

When you were out of air, you broke off the kiss, reaching the hem of your shirt to pull it off, then waiting a few seconds for Yukhei to admire the red lace on your skin before unclasping your bra, letting your blossoms free, all the while as Yukhei looks on, like he was in a trance.

“I missed these,” he commented before taking a mound into his mouth, sucking on your nipple diligently while his other hand comes up to roll it in between the pads of his fingers, the pleasure from the action making you throw your head back, a slip of his name in between your whimpers.

You let Yukhei push you back, letting you fall onto his bed, you felt his hands wander up your skirt, his huge hands around your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his palms, feeling you, but stopped when he reached the hem of your panties, detaching himself from your chest, looking at you for confirmation.

You nodded at him, putting your hand over his to guide him higher, stopping at the curve of your cheek, pushing his hand beneath the clothe, dangerously close to your core, heck he could even feel your arousal already, eyes rolling back at the thought of getting you so worked up.

“Take it off, but you can leave the skirt, for old time’s sake,” you said.

Yukhei looked at you, confused at what you’re trying to say, until he realised you were wearing a pleated checkered skirt, just like the ones you wore back in high school, memories of the two of you sneaking around, having a quickie with your skirt flipped up immediately made blood rush southwards at the thought.

“Fuck, you expected this to happen?” Yukhei asked, shaking his head in disbelief, he was always the troublemaker at school, but oh how the tables have turned now.

“Didn't you?” you asked before getting up to put yourself in a doggy position, shaking your butt, taunting him.

Yukhei chuckled to himself before doing as you say, taking off your panties to reveal your slick covered pussy, dripping wet for him on display.

Yukhei spreads you open by pulling your cheeks apart to lick a stripe up your slit, making you shudder at the warm muscle that was intruding but very much welcomed.

Yukhei allowed himself to fully stuff his face there, inserting his tongue into your core, thrusting the wet muscle at a moderate pace before adding a finger to the mix, then two, stretching you open to let his tongue delve deeper inside, he then adds a third finger, the fullness finally hitting you, soon he did a come hither movement once he had located your sweet spot, his tongue and fingers rubbing against the roof of your walls deliciously, you would’ve lost your balance if it weren't for his hand supporting you by your left hip.

The constant pleasure that Yukhei so willingly inflicted upon you would've soon come to an euphoric end if he hadn’t halted all movement, pulling out his tongue and his fingers, which made you whine his name pathetically, something you wouldn't have done if it weren't for the fact that your mind was reduced to a ball full of cotton.

“Chill, I worked you up so I wouldn't hurt you with my dick,” Yukhei said as he positions himself at your entrance, his hand coming up to your face to tilt your head to his direction, zeroing on your lust filled eyes and the plump of your lips, swollen because of him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Yukhei asks you one last time.

“Yes, please,” you said, pushing yourself back to lightly grind on his length, a little bit of your arousal getting onto his cock, his dick getting so hard it's starting to hurt.

“Ever so eager, aren't you?” Lucas said before biting his lip at the sight.

“Just put it in!” you whined, tired of his teasing.

“Okay, okay,” Yukhei said before bracing himself for your tight walls, he's never nervous when it comes to others, but you? You always held a special place in his heart.

Yukhei spreads your cheeks once more before aligning himself to slip in an inch, eyebrows furrowing at how tight you were, he could tell you were clenching up, just like you did the first time when you were nervous.

So he bends down to your back, placing gentle kisses along your right shoulder blade.

“Don’t tense up, there’s nothing to be nervous about, we did this before remember?” Yukhei said in his most gentle tone ever, you nodded your head at his words, adjusting yourself to let yourself lose in the comfort of his touch, reminding yourself that although it's been a long time since you had someone as big as him, you’ll be fine in his hands.

Once Yukhei felt yourself unclench, he pushes in furthermore, you felt yourself arching your back to allow him to fit himself easier, before he comes to a halt, you felt so full, you haven't felt this way in such a long time, it was somewhat overwhelming, but it's the most complete feeling ever, a feeling you've never felt with any other.

The initial stretch was slightly painful of course, but the pain soon turned into pleasure, and being the gentleman Yukhei is, waited for you despite the huge urge to move, waiting for your green light.

When you told him he could move, he felt like the gates of heaven just opened, pulling out slightly to give you a shallow thrust, just to test the waters.

Even with that experimental thrust, you felt like you had a taste of heaven, eager to drown yourself in this new found pleasure that you were once so familiar with.

Yukhei grasped his large hands onto your hips, setting a moderate pace, still restraining himself from snapping his hips, but from how much slick you were dripping, soon you'd be begging for more.

Once you felt yourself familiarise with his big cock, the pace that Yukhei had set wasn’t enough, you wanted him to let loose, you wanted him to rail you, be damned if you can’t walk tomorrow.

So in the midst of all the pleasure, you let out two desperate words breathlessly, “ruin me”.

Yukhei had to do a double take, pausing his movements entirely just to check if that was his mind messing with him or it was really you, but one look at your desperate face, revealed to him that was in fact your words.

Yukhei allowed the animalistic side of him to take over, holding onto your hips that would sure leave bruises the next day, but you didn’t mind, not when you felt a sudden surge of pleasure coursing through your body. He angled your body higher, arching your back for easier access, thrusting harder and faster.

You could only submit yourself to him as your toes curled and your fingers dig into the linen sheets, you’re sure if his members were next door, they'd be able to hear every single sound you make, the sound of your ass cheeks clapping against Yukhei’s hips and your high pitched moans were flowing freely, but you didn't care, not when this could be the last time you'd ever be with Yukhei.

Soon, you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your legs were trying their best not to fail you, and you could tell your arms were getting sore from propping yourself up as the cord in your abdomen threatened to snap, you panted out the word ‘close’, and Yukhei immediately understood, fucking into you at an inhuman pace, you could feel yourself losing your mind as spit drips from your mouth, sanity slowly slipping away from you as you felt your impending orgasm, it started from the tip of your toes, your body convulsing as you screamed his name, succumbing into the pleasure, your core bursting, the strongest orgasm you've ever felt, making your whole body sag in defeat as you let Yukhei help you ride out your orgasm.

Just when you thought it was all over, Yukhei gently flipped you over, and that’s when you realised he hasn’t cum, so you lifted your legs higher to let him enter you once again, he was using you like his personal doll, and you love it a little bit too much to be considered normal, you struggled to keep your eyes open as you fought through the slight pain from the overstimulation, hearing Yukhei’s mumble of appreciation and endearments.

“Can you give me one more, babe? Just one more,” Yukhei said before circling his fingers around your clit, making your eyes snap open when you realise he wants you to cum once more, your hands coming up to push his hand away, but his other hand grasped onto yours.

“Just one more, please,” Yukhei begged with those puppy eyes of his, and how could you say no?

So you stopped struggling, nodding your head at his request before he quickens the pace of his hips and the ministrations on your clit.

Soon, you could feel Yukhei’s cock swelling inside you before he let out a groan of your name, thrusting in one last hard thrust before he painted your walls white, his lips capturing yours to silent you as you came once more, your nails digging into his shoulders, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Yukhei ride out both your highs.

Once he was done, Yukhei crashed onto the bed beside you, his arms wrapping around yours, kissing your lips to distract you as he pulled out, hopping into the attached bathroom to bring out two towels, taking off your skirt before he gently cleans you up, when he was done he wiped the juices you left on him, your eyes growing big when you knew it was from when you squirted on him.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I squirted,” you mumbled behind the hands that you had covering your embarrassed face.

Yukhei laughed at the cute sight, throwing the towel aside before climbing into bed again, removing your hands away from your face, kissing you deeply before looking at you in the eye.

“I loved it,” he said before pulling you closer, and almost instantly, you were lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart.

When you woke up, Yukhei was still snoring beside you, sleeping like a baby, you gently removed his hand from your waist, stepping out of the bed before gathering your clothes, putting them on, smoothing out the creases of your skirt.

Walking to the door, you glanced around once more at the sight of him, your heavy heart begging you to stay, to talk, and so you walked over to the night stand, ripping a piece of paper of the note pad and grabbing the pen next to it.

‘Goodbye and thank you for everything.’

You placed the piece of paper beside him on his pillow before kissing his forehead as a parting gift, closing the door as softly as you could when you left.

You knew this was the right thing to do, you made this decision once when he left for Korea the first time, you can't be in his way this time around, not when he's this far into his career, you can’t be selfish, he belongs on this path, he deserves it and you’re not going to take it away from him, you've stood on the side-lines all this time, he shed the limelight on you for one night, and that's all you should have, he's better off without you.

Yukhei felt himself grow cold when he couldn't feel the warmth of your body, jerking up to check if you were in the bathroom, only to find the door wide open, the room empty.

That's when he had spotted the piece of paper with your goodbye message, his heart clenching in pain, crashing onto the bed once more.

He didn't know what to expect, you had sent him off once, and now you left him without saying goodbye. He thought he could at least say goodbye.

Pushing his thoughts away, he gathered his things, packing up to leave for Korea.

His members could tell something was terribly off, they thought he was just in it for a casual hook up, but his expression tells otherwise.

The usual cheerful Yukhei was nowhere to be found, which meant Yang Yang and Hendery had to keep the mood light throughout the journey home, everyone knew to not say anything, only speaking when crucial.

It took Yukhei quite a while for him to get back to his goofy self, but even then, Kun, being the most observant one, saw a tightness in his smile, a faraway look in his eyes, whoever he had seen that night must've meant a lot to him, but he dare not to press, he knows Yukhei would open up when he's ready.

It was a normal Tuesday night when he had received a request to face time from you, without thinking much of it, excited to hear from you, he accepted, your beautiful face coming into view as he got comfortable on his bed.

“Hey, this is unexpected,” Yukhei said, not knowing what else to say.

“Yukhei, there’s something I need to tell you,” you said, eyes avoiding his.

“Yeah, what's up?” he asked, rubbing his nape, a habit he does whenever he's nervous.

“I'm um, I’m pregnant,” you said, choosing to not beat around the bush.

You could see Yukhei's face pale when he processed your words. Is it his? It's definitely his, it's almost a month since the two of you slept together, unless you slept with someone else?

“It's mine?” a dumb question, but he needs to know for sure.

“Yeah,” you said before the two of you come to a piercing silence.

“You could get an abortion, maybe?” Yukhei suggested after contemplating in his head, there’s no way he could be in the child’s life, and that's the best option for your sake, raising a child in Hong Kong is the most expensive thing to do, equivalent to buying a house there.

“I decided to keep it, Yukhei,” you said, glancing up to see the disbelief on his face.

“You can’t, you know I can't be there for you and you’re still so new in your job, you can't risk your life for this!” Yukhei said, not comprehending on why you'd do this to yourself.

“I already decided, Yukhei, and I don't expect you to take responsibility, this is my choice,” you said as tears threatened to flow.

“That isn't fair, it's not fair for the child! A child needs its father! You don't know what you're doing! Being a single mum is next to impossible in Hong Kong! You're putting the child in a horrible situation just for your selfishness!” Yukhei said before pushing his hair back, the feeling of an impending headache forming.

“How dare you say that?! I’ll raise this child perfectly on my own, I was just calling you to inform you of it, but since you don't want anything to do with it or me, I guess this is goodbye and don't call me anymore, I won't change my mind,” you said before your face disappeared from his phone screen.

Yukhei tried calling you immediately after, a day later, several weeks later, but you never picked up. Then he started stressing about his career, what would happen if someone were to find out? But he knows you as a person, and being a tell-tale is not one of your characteristics, yeah, he can just act like nothing happened, like he had never received this call.

He knows he's running away from his problems, but what other choice does he have?

Fast forwarding to July of 2021, Yukhei is home after his filming of the popular Chinese reality show in China, Keep Running, he feels at ease when he sees his family, finally reuniting with them, but only for a short two weeks time, before he has to leave for Korea once more.

It was a Friday night when his friends from home took him out for a drink, he was not so familiar with the clubbing scene in Hong Kong, but with the knowledge he has of this area, he knows many rich and young people often here, just like the girl kissing up his neck now, her soft hands running up the expanse of his thigh, getting dangerously close to where he wants her to be.

Yet Yukhei doesn’t remember her name, was it Candy? Apple? Some sort of name that had to do with food, he just remembered that she told him that she was an up and coming model, or trying to be anyways.

Just as she suggested to go to some hotel, Yukhei suggested for a quickie in the bathroom first, and so here he is now, being pushed to the door of a stall, her hands trying to unbuckle his belt.

Yukhei reached the back of his pocket for his wallet, opening it, looking for the condom he had placed there, but cursed when he realised he must've dropped it when he paid for drinks.

He told her to go back out and wait for him to get some, leaving the club and the musky smoke filled place behind him, the summer breeze blowing his hair all over, he brings the hood of his jacket up as he scans for a nearby convenience store, locating one at the street across.

When he got in, the scent of curry immediately greeted him, it was your favourite food, everyday after school, no doubt you'll drag him into one of these shops, just to share a bowl of curry fish balls, one of the most famous snacks here in Hong Kong.

He pushed the thought away, trudging to the aisle that was on the most right, where the condoms were at, hidden away from children. He took a box and made his way to the counter, opening his wallet to take out a few notes.

The cashier turned her back from stocking the cigarette shelf, scanning the box wordlessly.

“That would be 30,” she said when she looked up, but her hand immediately dropped the box when she saw who it was, and that's when Yukhei truly opened his eyes to see who it was, at first he was just miffed not knowing why the cashier froze, then he sees you, in the worn out 7 Eleven uniform, was you, the last person he’d be expecting.

“Why are you here? What happened to your job at the law firm? Why...” Yukhei didn't know how to ask, he didn't know if he deserved the right to ask, yet there's so many questions he had swarming in his head. Where is his child? Did you abort it in the end? Did you give it up for adoption? Were you fired from your job because of it?

“It's my shift right now, and you seem to be getting lucky tonight,” you said stiffly, holding up the box for him to see, sliding it across the counter

“It's for my friend actually,” Yukhei said, eyes avoiding yours, but immediately looking at you straight in the eyes, remembering how you use to be able to see right through him whenever he didn't do the revision work you've given him.

“Right,” you said, resisting to roll your eyes.

“You haven't answered me, why are you working here instead of the law firm?” Yukhei pressed.

You sigh at his persistence, not knowing what to say to humour him, so you didn't say anything, getting back to rearranging the shelves.

Yukhei bit his lip, not knowing what to say to you, but a million questions in his head, desperate for answers.

“Please leave if you're done with your purchases,” you said, you had a long day, and the thought of entertaining him was not something you want to add on your plate.

Yukhei looked around the store once more, grabbing a bowl of instant noodles from the shelf before making his way once more to the cashier.

“I’d like to have this here,” Yukhei said before pulling out some spare change from just now.

“Yukhei, what are you trying to do?” you asked in an exasperated tone, there's no point making small talk when there's no way the two of you would ever cross in each other’s lives ever again.

“I'm hungry, I want to eat noodles,” which wasn’t really a lie, all the alcohol he drank before gave him an appetite.

You sighed, turning your back to him, soundlessly waited for the water to boil before pouring it into the cup, sealing the top for it to cook. As you worked, Yukhei was having déjà vu, this was an all too familiar sight, nights at the convenience store studying till late at night in groups, you'd always share noodles with him as you taught him some dumb math formula that no one uses in their life after school.

He takes his bowl of noodles, opting to sit at the place closest to the counter, just looking at you, eating as slow as humanly possible.

When it was around three, you received a call.

“Hello?”

“...”

“You think you have a stomach ache? Celine jia is asleep? Okay, mama’s coming home okay?” you said frantically before shutting off the stove of the food at the counter, running to the back for a pack of meds, depositing some money into the register. You looked at Yukhei, frozen at his seat, cursing at yourself for not going into the back room before picking up the call.

“You need to go, I have something to deal with,” you said as you grabbed your bag, turning off all the switches in one go, making the place pitch black other than the lights from the lamp posts outside.

“Is that my child?” Yukhei asked, he can't allow himself to act like it never happened before, he ran away once, it's time to man up and shoulder on his responsibilities.

“No I fucked another guy before you and it's his child,” you deadpanned.

You walked down the street to flag for a taxi that is always parked there to get their club goer customers, Yukhei hot on your heels, you turned back to look at him questioningly.

“This is none of your concern, don’t follow me,” you said in a rather seething tone, you didn't mean to sound like that, but if he's going to be in the way of your child, then he’s not a friend.

“That's my child too, I want to know how they are, I have a right to do so, you studied law, you should know,” Yukhei retorted in the most friendly way possible, he knows he's in the wrong, but he wants to ensure his child’s safety.

“For fuck’s sake,” you cursed aloud before stepping into the taxi, leaving the door open for him.

You told the driver your address, sitting back to think of what's the problem, the kindergarten shouldn't be the culprit, it's a school with a good reputation, which also burns a hole in your wallet, but you don't mind, and it's not like you have much of a choice, education is deadly expensive here.

About 20 minutes later, you've reached home.

“That'll be 150, miss,” the driver said.

“What?!”

“Fares are different after midnight, miss,” the driver reminded you.

Before you could check if you had enough money on you, Yukhei paid for it wordlessly.

You got out of the car, rushing into the building and running up the stairs as quick as you can, unlocking the door, jabbing the keys into the rusty lock.

Taking off your shoes before you made your way to your room, spotting your son crouched in the corner of your bed, hands around his stomach.

“Hey, mama's home, I'll get you a glass of water to take your medicine okay?” you said before hurrying out, Yukhei passing you a glass of water at the kitchen.

“Thanks,” you mumbled before making your way back inside.

You open the package and passed you son a tablet, but looking at the size, you knew he’d panic to swallow something this big, so you broke it in half, telling him to drink a big gulp of water to wash it down and it'll be fine.

All the while, Yukhei was watching with wonder leaning by the door frame, even in the dim lights and the fact that he's still quite young, he could still identify his eyes on his son, the strong genes in his family, his father and brother all had those eyes, this boy is most definitely his.

The boy diligently does as you told him, taking a big gulp of water, so obedient, and from the way the two of you communicate, very mature for his age, nothing like the usual three year old.

When he was done, he noticed Yukhei’s presence, tugging your sleeve to whisper into your ear, eyes trained on him.

“That's a friend of mine, love, be polite, say hi to Yukhei gogo,” you urged.

Yukhei took this as a sign to get closer to his son, squatting down to meet his eye.

“You’re a handsome boy, what's your name? I’m Yukhei and I’m 22 this year, how about you?” Yukhei asked as he reached out his hand for the little boy to shake.

“I’m Wenghei, 3 years old. Why have I never seen you before gogo?” the child asks, looking at him with curious eyes, he's met some of your friends, but he's definitely haven't met him before, most people aren't as tall here, or not in his mother's circle anyways.

“Get some rest, love,” you said, tucking him into bed.

“Okay,” he said, a yawn coming out from his mouth.

You closed the door behind you, directing Yukhei to the small living room area, serving him a glass of water.

You walked to the trash bin, opening the lid to check its contents, a scowl on your face when you saw the root of your son’s stomach ache when you spot the plastic container that contained the two day old pizza from the freezer. Your roommate, Celine, must’ve gave him some as dinner, usually you'd leave some money for Celine to buy him dinner, but she must've been tight on money again, trying to find ways to squeeze in some spare change, you've warned her of her spending habits, always splurging on albums of her favourite stars, which reminds you.

“You have to go, I’m living with a roommate and I'm sure she's going to recognise you,” you said, a hand gesturing at the door.

“Wait, did you find out why he had a stomach ache?” Yukhei asked.

“Yeah, he ate something he shouldn't have for dinner, you have to go, I need some rest for tomorrow,” you said, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Do you have anything on tomorrow? Can I see you, perhaps?” Yukhei asked, he didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but he just had to see you again.

“I’m tutoring a student at a coffee shop tomorrow, you can come right after,” you said, thinking that he just wants to know more about his son.

“Okay, goodnight then,” Yukhei said awkwardly as he walks towards the door.

“Goodnight,” you said, feeling a weight on your chest, dreading tomorrow’s meeting.

When Yukhei arrived at the café, he could see you sitting at the way back, a teenage girl sitting in front of you, back facing him, he sipped on his latte, observing you silently.

Your hair is much longer than it had been in high school, the bag hung by your chair very much worn out, and your eye bags were heavier than on days where Yukhei would stay up to prepare for promotions.

Soon, the student was packing up, leaving the table, Yukhei took this as a sign to move to your table. You had stood up to greet him, and that's when he saw, you had lost lots of weight, and he's not meaning it in a fitness way, he recognised the jeans you are wearing, you had these even back then, they used to be a perfect fit for you, that's why they were your favourite, but now, you were wearing a belt to hold it together, and still he could see how loose it was.

“Hey, you didn't order anything?” Yukhei asked, noting that the cup of coffee he saw just now belonged to your student.

“I got a coffee in my flask, cheaper that way,” you said as you packed up your stationaries.

“What did you have for breakfast? How about I order you a piece of cake?” Yukhei suggested, looking back to see what they have today.

“It's alright, I'm not hungry, why don't we get straight to the point? What is it you want to ask about Wenghei?” you asked, noting the time on your watch, you have to leave around noon to fetch your son from pre school.

“I, how about you? Why did you leave the firm? And how’s your parents?” Yukhei started off.

“Well, they said I would’ve been an embarrassment to the firm, you know, pregnant and unmarried, so they told me to leave, it's not like filing could be done with a big weight in my stomach, so I did as they said. Now I tutor kids English and work the night shift at the convenience store, and as for my parents, they kicked me out,” you said, laying down the cards, no point avoiding his questions, especially not when you're in a hurry.

Yukhei nodded at your words, registering the fact that he had a fault in ruining your hot shot lawyer dreams and completely destroyed your sensitive relationship with your parents, how is he ever going to forgive himself?

“I’m sorry,” Yukhei said, he didn't know what else to say, how could he make it up to you and your son? Will you let him even if he could?

“Don't be, this is on the both of us, are you going to ask about the share custody stuff? If so, I don't think we should continue this conversation, Wenghei doesn’t know who you are, and maybe that's the best case scenario, what point would be made if he knew you were his father but you're not in our lives? It'll break his heart. You've seen him now, maybe you can reconnect with him when he's older, I think you should just say goodbye before you go, if you want,” you said, saying these harsh words aloud wasn’t easy, you’re not entirely a cold hearted bitch, but it's for the best that your son didn’t know about his father, no one wants to know the fact that their father abandoned them twice, some truths are better to be untold.

“Can I see him one last time, maybe tonight? For dinner? I'm leaving in two days,” Yukhei said in a defeated tone.

“Yeah, sure, I'll take the shift off tonight,” you said, eyes avoiding his, you could just tell he’d have those sad puppy eyes on his face right now, you don't need anymore guilt in your heart.

“Hey man, where were you?” Jackson asked Yukhei, who was waiting for him at the harbour, they were going to Macau for a day trip today, his friend isn't late for the boat, but they did schedule to meet 15 minutes earlier.

“Something came up, and I need to head back around 7, there’s some people I need to see,” Yukhei said as they boarded the boat.

“So that leaves us 5 hours, should be enough,” Jackson said, checking his watch.

“I’m sorry about this, man, it just came up suddenly,” Yukhei said as they took their seats, apologetic because they have been talking about this trip for a long time now.

“It's okay, dude, but what's up? You look really stressed,” Jackson asked, taking in Yukhei's clenched jaw and furrowed brows, a stark contrast from his usually carefree expression.

“It's a long story,” Yukhei said as he mindlessly watches the sea from the little window of his seat.

“Well, if you don't mind, this is a 45 minutes journey, maybe we'll be able to find a solution together, what are friends for am I right?” Jackson offered, he wouldn't press his friend if he didn't want to tell him about it, but the two of them have been close ever since going on knowing brothers, coming from the same home country and everything.

And so Yukhei, for the first time, told his friend his long love story.

“You know, I think I have a solution for you, but let me ask you one thing first, do you still love her?” Jackson asked as he ate his pork chop bun, Macau’s famous local snack.

Yukhei pondered over his friend’s question, yes the two of you agreed to break up, but all the girls he dated after you, all had similar features or personality traits to you, he had dismissed it as just a type, but now that he had seen you again, he realised that the hole in his heart was always emptied for you, you were the missing puzzle piece all along.

“You don't even have to answer me, your face tells all man,” Jackson said, an oily finger wagging at the direction of his face.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Yukhei said with a sigh, “but even if I still love her, that doesn’t mean she loves me back, and what if we do love each other? We're living oceans apart,” Yukhei said in a defeated tone.

“Now here comes my solution, so you said she got fired from her law firm and is now tutoring kids and doing the night shift at 7 E, and got kicked out by her shitty parents, so she really doesn't have anything else here for her other than her son, why don't you suggest get to move with you? To Korea? It'll be way easier for the two of you to raise your son, even if the two of you don't get back together, I mean, at least you'll be able to financially support them, that is what you're willing to do right?” Jackson asked, hoping that his friend would uptake his part of the child support.

“Yeah, of course I want that, I just don't know what she'll say, or if she'd be willing, she doesn't speak the language and it's an entirely different environment,” Yukhei said, thinking back the days where he had a tough time adjusting.

“From what you told me, she sounds like a tough nut, but of course, this is all up to you, but just so you know, I would really like to be his godfather, and as for your doubts of her love towards you, she did name him after you, isn't it the same Hei?” Jackson said with a hearty chuckle, he could just imagine the fun they'll have together, he was always fond of children.

“Yeah, I’ll persuade her on this,” Yukhei said, he could already feel himself getting nervous for tonight’s dinner, it can’t be that much of a coincidence that his son’s last name resembled his right? Or is he and Jackson just being delusional?

“Now that's my buddy, now come on, finish your food so that we’ll make it in time for the next batch of Portuguese egg tarts, I remember they have a fresh batch around 4,” Jackson said, mouth salivating at the thought of more food.

When you arrived at the restaurant, it was fancier than what you had expected, feeling underdressed among the rich elite of Hong Kong in your old dress that you wear for every special occasion.

You asked if there was a reservation under your name, since Yukhei said he had it booked under you, and almost immediately, since not that many people can afford places like these, the waiter led you in.

“Mama, what is this place? We've never ate here before,” your son asked you.

“It's a French cuisine restaurant, we’re meeting gogo here, remember him? Or were you too sick that day?” you said as you placed him on the baby chair you had requested for.

“Yeah, I remember,” your son said as he looks around in awe, registering the pretty chandeliers that look so sparkly.

When the waiter handed you a menu, someone had joined your table, his hoodie pulled up so no one would recognise him, pulling it down when he saw that there wasn't any other customers around.

“Sorry, am I late?” Yukhei asked with a sheepish smile, a hand lifting up to check the time.

“No, we’re just early, say hi to Yukhei gogo, love,” you directed the last part to your son, patting his little hand to get his attention, smiling immediately when he lands on the tall figure.

“Gogo, you're here,” your son said excitedly, making grabby hands at him, letting his father carry him with a large smile on his face.

“Hey, buddy, don't you look excited to see me?” Yukhei said before blowing raspberry at his neck, making the young boy giggle.

What you didn't expect was to see someone coming up behind Yukhei, a little bit shorter and smaller in built, but when he pulled his hoodie down, you instantly recognised who it was.

“Jackson Wang?” you asked, blinking your eyes a few times to see if you were hallucinating.

“Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you, you look lovely tonight, and you must be little Wenghei, aren't you adorable, how about Jackson gogo take you out to buy toys, huh? I saw a big toy store just across the street, but only if your ma says yes of course,” Jackson said, giving you a side eye to Yukhei.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, it's not like the Jackson Wang is going to kidnap your son right?

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch him with my life,” Jackson said as Yukhei passes his son over to him, leaving the restaurant with his hood up once more.

“Is there something you'd like to say?” you asked Yukhei after he had taken the seat across you his hands were shaking slightly as he holds up the menu.

“I... I still love you. And I know I must sound like a jerk to you, hell I’d go back in time just to hit myself for running away, I'm really sorry for that. What I did was inexcusable, my career just stabilised at that time, and I was under immense stress from SM, you have every right to be mad at me, but I want to be apart of your life again, apart of Wenghei’s life as well, if you could let me have this second chance, I'll do anything to make the both of you happy,” Yukhei said in one breath, reciting what he had practised over and over again with Jackson in the car.

“Yukhei, I,” you were lost for words, you thought you were saying goodbye once more, that Yukhei and you would always end up in goodbyes, but now here he is, saying he loves you.

“Yukhei, you can't just say you love me for the sake of our son, and neither would you need to take responsibility for him, I chose to have him, and as for love, we can never be together, you’re an international super star now, and you're living in Korea, I don't think I have the energy to be in a long distance relationship with you, that would take a toll on Wenghei too, how am I going to explain to him that his father is in another country? He’ll always question your love for him and I don't want that,” you said, trying to hold in the tears that had built up in your eyes, your throat closing up, the cold facade you built for yourself crumbling down before his eyes.

“You can move to Korea, both of you, we can be a family,” Yukhei pleaded, his hands reaching forward to hold yours, his eyes searching yours.

“We can’t, what if we break up? What if your so called love for me, is just something you feel as a result of our child? You can't uproot the two of us when there's so many uncertainties, especially our emotions,” you said, you don't want either of you to be stuck in a relationship for the sake of raising a child, no one would be happy in the end.

“Love, you don't understand, I've never had a serious relationship after you, I tried, I really did, but I’d always think of you instead, how badly I wanted you instead of someone who reminds me of you, the thing is, I’ve always loved you, and I think you still love me too, or you wouldn't have named our son after me, am I right?” Yukhei hoped, why else would you come up with that name right?

Damn it, you thought to yourself, he saw right through you, maybe you shouldn't have named your son after him.

You looked at him and looked away, darn those puppy eyes, you’re sure you’re crying now, and Yukhei reaching over to wipe away your tears just confirmed it.

“I love you, it's always been you, only you,” Yukhei confessed.

“I, I love you too, Yukhei, and I was never mad at you for running away from us, I know how tough that industry is, but what if your fans find out about us?” you asked, slightly worried that he might lose it like last time.

“Then so be it, true fans would stay,” he said in an affirmative tone, reassuring you.

“You promise?” you asked, holding out your pinky, it would’ve been a funny sight to see if anyone saw the two of you now, crying and smiling at the same time.

“I promise,” Yukhei said before hooking his own pinky to connect with yours.

“If you leave us, Wong Yukhei, I’ll murder you in your sleep,” you said as threatening as you could sound.

“I plan to see our son grow up, so I'll value my life,” Yukhei said in utmost sincerity before grabbing a napkin to wipe away all your tears, you’re glad that you didn't wear any mascara today.

Just when Yukhei wiped away the tears in his eyes, Jackson was back with your bubbly child, his arm had bags digging into his flesh.

“Oh my god, that's too much, Wenghei why did you get so many, this is Jackson gogo’s hard earned money,” you said, lecturing your son.

“It's okay, he's an angel, this was all on me, and I guess things went well?” Jackson asked, eyes darting to your connected hands.

“Yeah,” you said, the biggest smile you had on your face.

“That's great to hear, I always wanted to be an uncle, now if you’ll excuse me, I don't think I should crash this family reunion any longer,” Jackson said giving his best friend a hug before leaving.

“So... What do you like to eat Wenghei? How about we get crème brulé,” Yukhei asked, pointing at the menu with childlike eyes, reminding you of the days where he’d get ice cream with you, splitting it on half for you to share.

“Sounds delicious.”

You let Yukhei order everything, sharing between the three of you while the three of you talked, Yukhei mostly directed the questions at his child, asking about his interests, his favourites of everything, ranging from colour to ice cream, eager to make up for loss time.

“How about we talk about where you'll be staying?” Yukhei asked after ordering dessert.

“Oh, I don't know what I'll be able to afford, I'll probably get another convenience store job again, so the rent can't be too high,” you said, dreading the thought of needing to learn a new language quickly for a job.

“Hey, you don't need to work anymore, nor pay rent, I already looked it up, there's an empty unit in our condo, the soundproofing might be a bit lacking, but that wouldn't be a problem if you don't sing in the shower like Dejun, we had a few noise complaints because of him,” Yukhei said, laughing at the fond times he had at the dorms.

“Yukhei, I know housing is really expensive there, are you sure you want to do this?” you asked once more, you don't want him to resent the financial burden the two of you would add onto him.

“What did I say to you just now? I said what I meant, I want the two of you to be in my life, forever. And don't worry about money, I saved up plenty and there’s many more jobs coming up for me, and moving out of the dorms would be the next step of adulthood to me, and we’ll get to spend so much more time together, right Wenghei?” Yukhei asked, pinching your son’s chubby cheeks teasingly.

“We’ll be living together, Yukhei gogo?” your son asked, a confused expression on his face, he had his attention trained on some pink fong video, something about dinosaurs.

“Yeah, Wenghei, we’ll be moving out of our little room, are you excited? We're going to a new country. Remember the dramas I watched with you? Korea has that big outdoor theme park you said you always wanted to go, and snow, you'll get to make snowmen during the winter,” you persuaded, hoping he won’t fuss too much about the move.

“Really? There’s snow in Korea?” your son asked, excited about the winter scene he’ll get finally see in real life.

“Yeah, real snow, not the bubbles in Disney land, are you excited?”

“Yeah, is Jackson gogo going to stay with us too?” your son asked, eyes darting to his new goodies before looking at you expectantly.

“Well, Jackson gogo has his own house and we have ours, but we can always visit him,” Yukhei explained.

“Hehe, okay,” your son said before getting distracted by the crème brulé set in front of him, digging in immediately.

“When do you want us to make the move?” you asked, thinking of all the things you have to pack, which isn't a lot, but you might have to courier some of your clothes over first.

“Whenever you want, I'll get our home ready as soon as possible, is there anything you need in the house? Other than the basics of course,” Yukhei asked, uncertain of any needs you have as a woman or maybe for your son.

“Can we have a study room for Wenghei? With a desk and shelves? We love to read, and he'll need a proper desk when he's older,” you asked, hoping it wasn't too much.

“Yeah, sure, I'll be sure to get it done,” Yukhei said, noting it down into his phone.

“But it's no rush on the study room part, he's just three after all, before I go, I have to apply visas for both of us,” you said, dreading the thought of filling up paperwork, you haven't done much of that ever since you left the law firm.

“Call me if you need any help on that, I'm sure my manager knows how to,” Yukhei said.

“You’re going to tell your company about us?” you asked, knowing how strict Korean entertainment companies are.

“They can't let me go just because of having my own family, they didn't let Jongdae, my senior, go, so we’ll be fine, I promise,” Yukhei said, reaching a hand over to hold yours reassuringly, his eyes looking into yours, filled with love and adoration.

“Okay, now how about we walk around the complex until 10? Wenghei doesn't have school tomorrow,” you suggested.

“Yeah, sure, we could even stay out later if you want,” Yukhei said enthusiastically, getting up slightly to call for the bill.

“You have a flight to catch tomorrow,” you reminded him in your motherly voice, which you regretted almost instantly, cursing yourself, reminding yourself to act more like an actual 22 year old, but Yukhei didn't say anything about it, hiding his smile by nodding deeply, almost like a bow.

“Okay, I just wanted to spend more time with the two of you,” Yukhei said, stopping when he saw the waiter coming back with the credit card machine, paying with just a glance at the bill.

The three of you spent your remaining time shopping and at the arcade, playing games with your son, Yukhei had insisted on getting you a new pair of sneakers, but you shot him down when he wanted to buy more stuff, especially toys for Wenghei.

“You can buy him toys when we’re there, it'll cost even more to ship more stuff over, and there's a risk of damaging the toys as well,” you said.

But of course your son threw a fit at the shop, all for some legos.

“Hey, buddy, I'll buy you lots the next time I see you, okay? I'll buy you one that's even bigger than this,” Yukhei said, squatting down next to his son, and even then he wasn't eye level with him, sometimes you forget how tall Yukhei actually is until you see a scene like this, or when you stand really close to him.

When it was 10pm, painful goodbyes were exchanged with a promise of face timing everyday, your son cried, and held onto his father dearly, and you haven't even told him Yukhei was his dad, but their bond is evident.

Yukhei held onto you and your son until his taxi came, and you waved until you couldn't see the taillights.

It's been a month since that fateful reunion, and Yukhei has squeezed in face times, calls, and texts in between schedules, giving you and your son time despite his busy career.

His company wasn’t too happy about it of course, but was somewhat glad that you weren't one to babble your business to gossip outlets.

You're now packing your things, one last time, you've been to the post office multiple times before to courier out your stuff to Korea, and every time a box reached his address, Yukhei would take a photo of it, telling you the stuff arrived safely.

Progress on your new home was quick, since it was already a fully furnished unit, Yukhei only needed to buy some furniture and things that cater to your son’s needs, he even picked out a pre school that teaches mandarin, perfect for your son’s adjustment in such a foreign country.

Tomorrow you'd be flying to Korea, a new country, a new start, but there was something clouding your mind, something you've been dreading, but today is the day you’ll tell him.

“Wenghei, can you come to mama for a second?” you asked, soon hearing your son’s tiny footsteps nearing you.

“Yes, mama?” your son asked, a hand around his precious teddy.

“There's something I need to tell you,” you said holding him close to you, letting him sit onto your lap.

“Remember how you asked me why you didn't have a baba while all your other classmates did?” you asked, trying to word it as nicely as possible.

“You said my baba had a really big responsibility, that he couldn't see us because of it, that he'll come back when he's free,” your son answered you, struggling to remember more details.

“Yes, good job, Wenghei, your memorising skills are getting better. Well, your baba is actually Yukhei gogo, he’s back now, and we can finally be a family again,” you said before holding in a breath, not knowing how he’ll react.

“Baba is Yukhei gogo? That's why we’re going to Korea?” your son asked, confusion written on his face.

“Yeah, do you like that he's your baba?” you asked, this could be the most important question ever.

“Yeah, mama, do you love baba? Does baba love you as much as I do?” your son asked, which very much surprised you, but expecting this sort of maturity from him.

“Yes, we love each other, and both of us love you as much too,” you said with a pinch of his chubby cheeks.

“Do we ever have to be separated from baba again?” your son asked, scared of losing his newfound father.

“No, never again, and can you do me one favour, Wenghei? I think the next time when you see your baba, you should run up to him and say hi baba, he’ll be very happy to hear you call him that,” you suggested, imagining the look on Yukhei’s face.

Your son giggled at the thought of making his father happy, agreeing immediately.

“Okay, now go to sleep, it's going to be your first time flying tomorrow,” you said, ushering him onto the bed.

“Okay, goodnight, mama,” your son said to you, just like he did every other night, he seemed to have accepted it very easily, maybe it was due to his age, but some day he might ask his father about his departure personally when he understands more, but that’s a hardship that’s reserved for another day.

The flight was relatively short, though it was rather hard for Wenghei at the start because of the pressure he had experienced in his ears, the crying and whining got you plenty of dirty looks from passengers around you, but you paid no mind to it, you’ve been through worst so this is nothing that can faze you.

When you got there, you saw a lady holding up a plaque with your name on it, her phone in her hand, checking all the moms who came out of the same lane as you.

She had a friendly smile on her face when she saw you, introducing herself in mandarin, being one of Wayv’s staff, a trusted one, according to Yukhei.

She talked to you about Yukhei in general, even giving your son a bar of mini KitKat, praising him for being brave on the flight after she had asked you how was your flight.

Around half an hour later, you've reached your new home, a nice looking condominium that looked about a few years old.

Unloading took quite some time, even with the help of the staff, but what surprised you was the person who was waiting for you inside the lobby.

“You're here!” you said surprised at the sight of the giant.

“Yeah, I am, wanted to give you a surprise, sorry I couldn't be outside, some crazy fans camp outside, can’t let them bring you and Wenghei any harm,” Yukhei said as he carried Wenghei, spinning in a small circle, looking at him with full of love.

“I understand, don't worry, I'm not a teenager girl anymore,” you said as you checked out the place, the sitting area had a couch set and free WiFi, this is a 180 from the living conditions in Hong Kong.

“Baba, did you miss me?” your son asked when he had stopped giggling from his father’s spins, which instantly ceased to a halt, eyes growing as wide as saucers.

“What did you call me? Say it again,” Yukhei said with the biggest smile on his face, all of his teeth were showing.

“Mama said you were my Baba,” Wenghei said like it was as simple as two plus two.

“Yeah... I am your baba, and you're my son,” Yukhei said before holding his son even closer, you could even see the tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Why don't we go see our new home Wenghei?” you suggested, seeing that some people have came out from the lifts, typical going to work hours.

You walked a feet away from Yukhei, not wanting to draw attention, holding onto the lift for Yukhei to bring all your luggage in.

Once you were at your level, you started loosening up, noticing that no one was around.

“This is my members’ unit,” Yukhei said pointing at a door, “And this is ours,” Yukhei said before opening the door for you, welcoming you into a warmly decorated home, every piece of furniture was placed and chose to accommodate your child, all the corners were covered with this e rubber safety stickers.

He showed you into Wenghei's room where the bed had all his favourite characters in the form of a plushie, his bed was soft when you sat down on it, and the blanket he had picked out was a soft fleece material, perfect for the cold weather.

Your son was going around every corner, awing at everything his father had gotten him, especially the Lego sets that were on his desk.

“Thank you, it's beautiful, his room,” you said when Yukhei wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him, god how much you've missed his warmth.

“Go take a look at your room,” Yukhei said before pulling your hand into the direction of the master bedroom, welcoming you into a room with a king size bed and silk linen sheets, an aesthetic looking vanity that you've always wanted as a teenager, now as well of course, and a little reading corner just for you by the window.

“It's all I've ever wanted,” you said in disbelief, not knowing how could Yukhei pull this off in such a short time.

“You like it? I got some help from my members, especially Kun for the kitchen, you should check it out afterwards, you always wanted a big kitchen area,” Yukhei said as you laid on the bed, giving your stiff body a rest from the journey.

“Lay down with me for a while, I’m a bit tired from the flight,” you said, making grabby hands at him.

“Nah, I shouldn’t, this is your bed,” Yukhei said, looking flustered.

“Wong Yukhei, I’ve had your child and now you're acting all innocent?” you asked in an accusing tone, playing with him, which made him lay down next to you immediately, he didn't like getting you angry, thinking back all those days when you had lectured him just like that when he forgot to do his homework.

“You want me to sleep here?” Yukhei asked carefully, observing your expressions.

“This is our bedroom, where else do you want to sleep?” you asked, but was promptly cut off by Yukhei's lips on yours, smiling as he kissed you, gentle but expressing all his love for you, a hand lingering on your back, guiding you closer than him.

Many mistakes that had to be made had guided you here, but you've never regretted, for if it wasn't for the hardships and the crossroads, you wouldn't have found a home with the man you'll cross oceans for.

The end.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Deception [Benedict Bridgerton x Reader]

Title: Deception Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 4.5k Published: 21 March 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Violet's constant search for a wife for her second eldest son has become too much for Benedict. The only escape he sees is to ask you to pretend to be courting each other. But how long will it work for with your feelings eating you up from the inside. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes​​​

Square filled: Fake dating

Bridgerton Masterlist | Masterlists

Make me feel Bingo Masterlist

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Benedict Bridgerton was a very capable man. He had a tremendous amount of talent in capturing the real beauty of the world in his drawings. He was confident, but still genuinely kind and caring for his loved ones. He also had a rather playful side to him, a somewhat child-like behaviour, one that the ton would not have appreciated in their society, but Benedict had the privilege to show his real personality to those who loved him, ones that never judged him for who he was.

However, there was one person he felt utterly useless around. When it came to you, he turned into an adorable mess, a clumsy one at that, even stuttering on occasions. Should you have known the reason for his unusual behaviour, it would have brought a rather large smile to your face, but Benedict dared not to reveal his feelings for you.

For someone who has been friends for so long, you both seemed to have found it hard to show your true feelings for one another, as though both of you were clueless. For Benedict it seemed you only spared as much attention to him as a friend would, whilst you thought he was merely looking out for you as a brother figure.

You sat in the ballroom, watching as he grimaced at his mother, who might have slightly forced her second oldest child to dance with one of the many stunning unwed ladies. The one he was forced to dance with however seemed to enjoy Benedict's company. He didn't talk, nor did he look at the woman, still she shined brighter than a diamond in his arms, proud to be so close to such a fine man.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you watched as he held his hand firmly on her back, leading her around the dance floor, making her giggle by just being close to her. Your heart ached at the thought of ever having to give up on him, at the thought of seeing him with another, someone he would choose to love, ignoring to see your longing gazes forgotten on him. How could he have seen, he never dared to look when he felt your eyes on him, nor did you dared to look when he forgot his on you.

Standing up from your chair, you walked towards the terrace, needing fresh air, trying to clear your thoughts as the slightly cool, windy weather stroked your cheeks. You knew you shouldn't have thought of him romantically, but you would have been a fool not to notice the handsome and caring man he has grown into. Watching Lady Bridgerton trying to find a wife to her son hurt both emotionally and physically and you couldn't wait for the season to end, to leave the balls and play-pretend behind you, running away from the inevitable.

"Help me!" you heard his desperate voice, but before you could have turned around, you felt his hand lock around your wrist, gently, but in a haste, dragging you after himself.

"Benedict, what are you doing?" you asked in confusion, trying to understand his chaotic behaviour as he pulled you along, passing corridors by corridors in the gigantic mansion.

"My mother," he sighed as he stopped his steps, breathing heavily. "My mother is becoming—" you waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have been stuck in his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" you asked, frowning at his frozen state, as though he couldn't find the words and his thoughts overruled his actions. You watched his hunched back as he fought to get enough air in his lungs, his eyes focused on a certain point on the marble flooring, completely out of the present. "Benedict!" you called him again, this time firmly, attempting to catch his attention.

"I know it!" he exclaimed, making you jump slightly at his unexpected enthusiasm as a rather wide smile spread across his face.

"What do you know exactly?" you inquired.

"It might sound foolish at first and I do not blame you if you think I have lost my mind, but I need your help," he explained, leaving you even more curious.

"What would I need to help you with?" you asked furrowing at the man as if he has forgotten to include you in his grand idea.

"My mother has been adamant in finding me a wife and there is only so much I can do to prevent her from continuing her crusade. I know I shouldn't ask you such a thing, but I can't possibly think of anyone else who I trust enough," he continued in a secretive manner.

"Benedict, you must be clearer. I don't understand what you wish for me to do," you attempted to push him to finally reveal his idea.

"I need my mother to stop searching for a wife and the only way I can do that is if I already found someone I am interested in," he started. "That is where I would need your help, if you agreed. Should you agree to pretend I am courting you, my mother would surely stop this nonsense and leave me alone," for a mere second you felt overwhelmed by the hope of his interest in you, but that was only until your brain processed his words. "Pretend" being the main focus of your attention, shattering the small shimmering light of hope within you.

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself, attempting to hide your disappointment. "Surely you didn't think this through. Your mother isn't a fool, she would see through us immediately. You can't possibly think it's a good idea," you tried to reason with him, but instead of thinking it through again, he quickly shook his head.

"But it is. Think about it. You have said so yourself, you don't want to marry just yet and nor do I. It would be the perfect option for both of us, solving our issues," he added enthusiastically as if his idea was anything, but brilliant. He could clearly see the weary expression across your face as he stepped closer and reached for your hands, engulfing them in his large and warm palms. "We would only have to pretend for a short while, I promise," he tried to reassure you. Whilst you knew it was a foolish idea, the thought of being able to stay close to him even if for a short period of time, seemed to cloud your better judgement.

"For how long?" you asked looking up at him as a mischievous grin spread across his dashingly handsome face. One that you adored so much. "I wouldn't want to be a spinster, Benedict," you sighed heavily.

"I would never let that happen," he shook his head quickly, his previously playful smile long gone from his face. "Let us do it for a few weeks and we will see how my mother reacts. I'm sure if we work well together, you might even catch the attention of some very noble men too," he winked jokingly, trying to lift your dull mood.

You haven't had much time to contemplate, maybe a few seconds until you ran through all the options you have been provided with, which was basically none. You heaved a heavy sigh and shook your head, offering a sceptical look to Benedict. "Fine," you said, earning a surprised expression from him, your answer shocking him for a second, before he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, twirling you around happily.

"You are my saviour," he chuckled as he hinted a small kiss on your forehead, stopping himself as he realised what he had done. "I apologise, I didn't mean to—"

"I understand. You are simply happy I have agreed to such a scandalous idea," you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the happiness you felt. Even if for a short while, Benedict was to belong to you, and it meant more than you could have possibly expressed. You knew you couldn't have him forever but having him for a couple of weeks made you feel like the happiest person alive.

"I owe you! I didn't think you would agree," he grinned happily, a childish warmness radiating from his stance as though he had won a grand prize.

"I still don't understand why I did. Surely, I'm a fool," you added quickly with a silent chuckle.

"We both are," he replied as he started leading you back to the ballroom with your arm linked around his. His gaze focused on the way ahead, but your eyes were rather resting on his attractive features. He was a stunning man, and you were sure if he had turned to look at you, he would have seen the amount of love you were harbouring for him. But as many times before, no one of you has ever turned.

Weeks passed by and if anyone, Violet Bridgerton was the happiest person to see Benedict growing closer to the woman, you, she had envisioned beside her second eldest son. She has made it very clear that a wedding should soon be happening, wanting nothing but a little baby in her arms. You never wanted to crash her dreams but hearing her talking about a future between you and Benedict was beyond painful. The thought of you waking up beside Benedict, his arm resting across your waist, his neck hidden in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin made your heart ache, knowing it was impossible.

You stood in Somerset House, one arm hooked around Benedict's as he watched the paintings, his face focused on one particular art with dark colours and shadings, slightly depressing as if the artist tried to capture a horrible emotion. Art was always something that you found beautiful, but never really understood. When Benedict talked about the meaning behind each piece with a childish happiness across his face, it made you feel content. Although you didn't understand much of what he was saying, the adorable expression he wore was worth each and every moment you spent listening to him.

Looking at his handsome features as they relaxed into a content smile, made you mirror his expression. You couldn't look at him and not smile. As though his mere presence made you feel at ease.

"I feel your eyes on me," he chuckled with a mischievous smile, knowing that you have indeed been staring at him for the longest time.

"I'm sorry," you quickly turned away, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up in embarrassment. "I couldn't stop watching you. You were really focused on that painting and it seemed as though you were here physically, but not mentally. You unintentionally make this face when you enjoy a painting," you smiled shyly.

"A face?" he furrowed, not knowing of his own reaction.

"Yes, as if you were completely captured by the painting. You have a certain content smile across your face and even forget to blink at times," you giggled, placing your hand in front of your mouth, remembering his facial expression.

"Don't hide your smile," he said as he reached for your wrist and gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, pulling your hand away from your lips. "You are even more beautiful when you smile," for a second his words made you hope, as though he meant more than he let on. His eyes seemed as if they could see through you, reading each and every single thought that crossed your mind. For the shortest of time, it felt your feelings weren't as unrequited as you thought. However, you quickly had to remind yourself that your imagination was playing a painful game with you, one that would surely end in a heartbreak.

You quickly turned away, trying to shake those foolish thoughts away, before you decided to dwell on them any longer. Clearing your thoughts, you turned back to him with a phony smile across your face, biting your bottom lip to calm yourself. But his deep frown left you confused. "Are you okay?" you questioned as he tilted his head as if he was studying your face.

"You were biting your lips again," he replied. "You do that when you are nervous or feeling uncomfortable," he added, stunning you. Biting your lips was indeed a nervous habit of yours, one that you couldn't stop as it made you feel slightly at ease when you felt as if even your own thoughts betrayed you. You never thought Benedict even realised those irrelevant, minor details.

"I'm fine, Benedict," you tried to reassure him with a smile that you wore confidently but could not fool Benedict.

"Should you feel the need to talk, I'm here," he said, drawing tiny circles on the back of your arm that he was still securely holding onto, reassuring you that he was by your side whenever you were in need of him.

As happy as it made you, you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment as you thought about the heartbreak when he would finally want to end your foolish little game and find himself a wife that he could cherish forever, leaving you with the most horrible heartache one could cause.

You knew it was inevitable, you knew it would kill you, but you loved Benedict and you would have never forced him to stay beside you for any longer than he wanted to. You were ready to give him up, to be happy even if with someone else. The thought of letting him go hurt, but you weren't sure of your own strength either. Thinking about how long you could stay beside him pretending to be a mere friend left you with just as much pain, if not more. But you were ready to sacrifice your own happiness even if to be able to spend one more second with him.

Days passed by since your slightly awkward encounter in Somerset House. You have pretended to be a couple so in love that you couldn't possibly stay away from each other. Lady Whistledown didn't miss to write a paragraph or two about the two of you, already planning your wedding, one that you found slightly excessive, but dared not to mention to keep your act believable.

As much as you enjoyed the first few weeks of your play-pretend, it was hard to keep it up for long. You loved every minute you spent with Benedict, but the longer you were beside him, the more pain you felt. You wished to make him happy, to continue your act, but you also knew that it wasn't forever, and that tiny little thought suffocated you.

You sat on a bench in the park, right after promenading with Benedict. He joined his brothers whilst your maid brought you a glass of water to refresh yourself. You watched as Benedict laughed with his brothers, a wide, adorable and carefree smile sat across his face. Weeks ago, you would have smiled at his happiness, but then and there, sitting on the bench, watching his happy form, you felt miserable. Each time you looked at him, your stomach jumped nervously, your breath caught in your lungs as he touched your arm. These tiny little details meant nothing to him, but for you they meant the world. He couldn't have known the effects his advances left on you, he couldn't have predicted to hurt you unintentionally, but in the end, he unknowingly caused you pain.

Standing up from the bench, you started walking towards the Bridgerton brothers. Heaving a heavy sight, you lifted your arm and tapped Benedict's shoulder lightly, trying to catch his attention. He turned around with a wide smile, looking at you curiously. However, your face must have forgotten to oblige as his smile quickly disappeared and concern took over him.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he nodded to his brothers and reached for your hand, placing it on his arm, leading you away from his family.

"I must talk to you," you started, your voice unusually grim.

"Go ahead. You are worrying me," he added impatiently. Trying to collect your thoughts, you stopped, halting the man beside you whose worried eyes didn't seem to want to leave you for a mere second. "Talk to me," he attempted to reassure you.

"I am really sorry, but I can't possibly do this anymore," your words earned a confused frown from Benedict, before he finally understood what you meant. "I know I promised to help you and I wish I could have done it longer, but I honestly can't do this anymore," you added as you fought against your tears, trying to keep them in place for as long as you could. You couldn't let yourself cry in front of so many people, you couldn't let that happen. Benedict straightened himself in front of you, trying to hide your face from the curious eyes.

"I understand. I am sorry for forcing you to do this. I never thought it could be this hard on you. I would never hurt you, you know that, right?" he asked, trying to contain himself from wrapping his arms around you, fidgeting with his hands beside his thighs.

"I know and you didn't hurt me, it's not your fault. It has just become rather difficult recently and I don't think I'm capable of pretending anymore," you tried to reassure him, making him feel less guilty. "I'm still your friend and I will always be your friend," you added with a phoney smile. Your own words were a lie. You didn't know how long you could pretend to be his friend, but you knew he needed to hear that, he needed not to blame himself. "I will be going home now, but surely I will see you later," you smiled up at him as you curtsied and nodded towards your maid, ready to head home, completely oblivious to the pained gaze he was watching your slowly disappearing form with.

Whilst you sat in your carriage, letting your tears finally run down your cheeks, leaning on your maid's shoulder, Benedict stood confused between Colin and Anthony, his eyes fixed on the ground, his thoughts filled with you only.

"Brother?" Colin called for him with concern in his eyes. It was unusual to see his brother unresponsive, without a playful smile. "Are you alright?" he asked, earning a frown from Benedict.

"I shouldn't have dragged her into this," he replied, but his words were directed more to himself than his brothers.

"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, seemingly more interested in their conversation.

"It was all a lie," Benedict replied, his gaze still fixed on the carefully cut grass.

"What was a lie?" the eldest Bridgerton brother asked again.

"All along we were pretending to be courting, so mother would stop trying to force me to marry," he scoffed, finally understanding the weight of his idea. "She said she can't do this anymore. That it was too painful to bear," he shook his head, guilt overcoming him.

"You really are a fool," Anthony replied with a sceptical look across his face, earning a confused look from both Colin and Benedict.

"How do you mean? Is it because we have been pretending?" Benedict questioned his brother. "I know it was foolish, but she agreed, I didn't know it would be particularly hard on her," he added with a deep frown.

"Brother, can you not see the way she looks at you? Always trying to make you feel happy, bringing a smile to your face even when she, herself is struggling to do so? Are you really that blind?" Anthony raised a questioning brow, as though he couldn't believe how oblivious his brother was towards your feelings.

"Should I understand?" he asked tilting his head innocently, searching for the right explanation. "We have been friends from a very young age, I am certain we have always tried to make each other smile in a difficult situation," he added, earning an eye roll from the eldest Bridgerton brother, ignoring his manners.

"When you said you were courting her, I thought you finally realised that you weren't the only one with feelings beyond friendship. However, after hearing about this foolish idea of yours, forcing a lady to pretend to love you, when in fact she has feelings for you is beyond stupid, brother, and I'm quite disappointed in you for not realising it yourself," he shook his head disapprovingly.

"Are you telling me she has feelings for me?" Benedict asked in disbelief, his brother's words lighting a weak hope within him.

"Indeed, took you long enough to understand," he scoffed.

"I have to talk to her," Benedict added quickly, heading towards the carriages in haste, carefully planning all he needed to tell you.

The ride didn't take long, 20 minutes at most, before he stood in front of your house, his hands shaking slightly, nervousness running through his whole being. Knocking on the door, a maid opened it for him, asking him to wait to announce his arrival to you.

You laid on your bed, cheeks swollen from crying, bottom lip red as a result of the constant biting of your nervous state. A knock on your door brought you out of your misery as your maid walked into the room.

"Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you," she said with a saddened tone, knowing of the arrangement between the two of you. Your eyes widened in surprise, you weren't ready to see him, especially not in your current, heartbroken state. "Would you like me to ask him to leave?" she questioned, looking at the panicked expression across your face.

"No, it's fine. Please take him to the drawing room," you instructed her and headed to the bathroom to make yourself presentable. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face was slightly swollen, and your clothes were beyond wrinkled. Attempting to straighten your dress, you stroked the material over and over again, but it didn't seem to work, nor did the cold water you washed your face with to remove the evidence of your miserable state. At last, you gave up and walked to the drawing room, knowing you wouldn't be able to do anything else with your appearance.

"We have just parted, Benedict," you said to the man as you stepped inside the room and took a seat across the sofa he occupied.

"I needed to see you," he replied, standing up from his place and taking a seat beside you. "I—, I talked to my brothers after you left," he started, stammering over his words, something he only did in his nervous state. "I am a fool and there is no excuse for that. I can't possibly imagine how hard it must have been for you to pretend—"

"I have told you already, I am completely fine," you tried to reassure him with a faux smile, one that this time Benedict didn't believe to be genuine.

"But are you?" he asked, earning a confused frown from you. "Do you know why I thought this foolish idea to be brilliant in the first place?" he raised a questioning brow, but instead of replying you shook your head. "I wanted to be closer to you. I merely thought it would be my chance to spend more time with you. Surely, I had no intention to marry anyone, and I wished my mother to stop, but my primary concern was you. I wanted to be near you at all times, but I couldn't possibly tell you how I felt, knowing you would only reject me," you couldn't control the surprise sitting across your face, your lips parted in shock, his words seemingly part of your most precious dreams. It seemed surreal.

"You are confusing me, Benedict," you spoke up, trying not to hope once again to then fall painfully.

"I'm saying I love you. I have loved you for so long, I can't remember when it started. I never imagined my feelings could be returned and I turned to foolish ideas to be beside you. I needed my brothers to open my eyes and scold me for being childish, for making me hope that I might have your heart even if only half as much as you have mine," he reached for you hand, gently squeezing it in his hold, reassuring you that he meant every single word of his.

"I love you," you blurted out, astonished by his speech, your own words surprising you.

"You do?" he asked, afraid to believe the words he has longed to hear from you.

"I do," you nodded, this time with more confidence, earning a wholehearted smile from Benedict as he leaned closer and wrapped his arms around you, embracing you in his arms.

"I made you cry, didn't I?" he asked as he pulled away slightly, enough for him to be able to look in your eyes as he placed his hands on your cheeks.

"It wasn't you. I was emotional, because I wasn't sure how long I would be able to stay beside you as a friend before it became too much to handle," you giggled awkwardly, feeling as if you have said too much.

"It was still my fault. I didn't consider your feelings," he shook his head, disapproving of his own actions. The tip of his thumb gently brushed across your bottom lip, leaving you with a ticklish feeling. "Have you been biting your lips again?" he asked as his eyes focused on your mouth. His attentiveness, his attention to detail and his closeness made you swallow nervously.

"I might have," you whispered, not daring to raise your voice any louder. Feeling his breath on your lips, the proximity between your faces, his warm palms on your cheeks made you feel intoxicated.

"You shouldn't do that. From now on talk to me when something bothers you," he spoke in a low tone, his voice soothing, making you feel safe. "You are doing it again," he chuckled, his eyes completely captured by the way your teeth bit on your lip, but this time it wasn't nervousness, but excitement. His closeness affected every tiny part of your body. "It really makes me want to kiss you," he breathed, completely mesmerised by your lips, as if an invisible force was pulling him towards you. You felt your heart beating at a dangerous pace, almost as if threatening to escape your chest and you could swear Benedict heard it just as well.

"Hmm," you hummed in a reply, incapable of creating a coherent sentence, before closing the gap between the two of you, a certain confidence rush taking over your actions. Instead of the surprised reaction you expected from Benedict, a playful chuckle left his lungs.

"Impatient, it seems," he added, before he returned your kiss, pulling you closer to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body in his embrace. He has imagined over and over again how it could feel to kiss you, to hold you, but none of those made-up scenarios could ever compete against the reality and the content it filled him with. "I wish to genuinely court you this time," he added as he pulled away from you.

"I very much hope so," you giggled happily, earning a playful eye roll from Benedict, before he captured your lips once again, wrapping his arms around you securely.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Taglist: (If you would like to be tagged on my Bridgerton fics, feel free to let me know ^^)

@shelby-love​​ @breadqueen95​​ @nuttytani-reblogs​​ @aspiringsloth20​​ @marvel-ousnesss​​ @msmarvelouswinchester​​ @venusflwer​​

[highsviolets]

INTERVIEW NO. 1: RACHEL @djarinsbeskar

hello hello! i am so happy to announce that rachel — aka the immense talent that is @djarinsbeskar — has agreed to be my first interviewee for this new series! thank you to rach and to each one of you for all of your support. to read more about the project, click here, and to submit an author, click here.

| why rachel? |

Rachel captured my imagination from the first time we interacted as mutuals-in-law. She’s bursting with energy and vivaciousness, with a current of kindness just underneath everything she does. Her work is no exception. Oftentimes gritty, raw, and exposing (in … ahem…more ways than one), Rachel challenges her readers to dig deeper into both the story and themselves. Her smut brings a particular fire as it’s laced with need, desire, and mutual trust that leads us deeper into the characters’ identities and how physical affection can mimic other forms of intimacy. She’s a tour de force in this fandom and an absolute joy.

| known for |

Engaging with and encouraging other authors, cultivating inspo posts, attention to world building & character development

| my favorites |

Stitches

Boxer!Din

Full Masterlist • Ko-Fi

| q & a |

When did you start writing? What was that project, and what was it like? Has that feeling or process ever changed over time? Why?

I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing. I was an avid reader, as I think most writers are—and I remember, after picking up Lord of the Rings—that I could live so many lives, experience so many things, all from the pages of a book. I could make sense of the world through words and ink and paper. And it offered me a level of peace and clarity I wanted to share with others. So, I started writing.

My first project I remember to this day, was a short story about a dog. I had been so heartbroken when I learned that dogs were colourblind. I must have been about seven or eight at the time, and I was fixated on this idea that dogs couldn’t see the vibrant hues that made the world beautiful. It was something I wanted to change—and with all the righteous anger of a child not getting their own way, I sulked over the fact that I couldn’t. Until I wrote it down.

“How do dogs see colour?”

And much like my writing today, I answered myself.

“Dogs don’t need to see colour. Dogs smell colour.”

And so, I wrote a story, about a puppy being brought on different walks by its owner. And with every new street it walked down—colour bloomed with scent. Colours more beautiful and vibrant than we could ever hope to see with our eyes. And it gave me solace and helped me work through an emotion that – granted was immature and inconsequential – had affected me. To this day, I still smile seeing dogs sniffing at everything they pass on their walks. Smelling colour. It gave me the key to my favourite thing in life. I don’t think my process has changed much since then. Much of what I write is based on a skeleton plan, but I leave room for characters to speak and feel as they need to. I like to know the starting point and destination of a chapter—but how they get there, that still falls to instinct. I think I’ve found a happy medium of strict planning and winging it that suits me now—and hopefully it will continue to improve over time!

When did you start posting your writing, and on what platform? What gave you the push to do that?

I mean, fanfiction has always been part of my life. I think anyone who was growing up in the late 2000’s and early 2010’s found their way to fanfiction.net at some time or other. The wild west compared to what we have now! My first post was for the Lord of the Rings fandom on fanfiction.net. It was an anthology of the story told through the eyes of the steeds. Bill the Pony, Shadowfax—it was all very innocent. That was probably in 2010 when I was fifteen. I had been wanting to share writing for a long time but was worried about how it would be received. I didn’t really have a gauge on my level or my creativity and – one of the many flaws of someone with crippling perfectionism – I only ever wanted to provide perfection. That was a major inhibitor when I was younger. By wanting it to be perfect, I never posted anything. Until that stupidly cute LOTR fic. It was freeing to write something that no one but me had any interest in, because if I was writing for myself then there was no one to disappoint, right? And that was all it took. I had some pauses over the years between college and life and such, but I’ve never lost that mindset when it comes to posting.

What your favorite work of yours that you have ever written? Why is it your favorite? What is more important to you when considering your own stories for your own enjoyment — characters? fandom? spice? emotional development? the work you’ve put into it? Is that different than what you enjoy reading most in other people’s fics?

I don’t think it’ll come as much of a surprise when I say Stitches. While not original, I mean—it follows the plot of the Mandalorian quite diligently, it is the piece of work I really hold very close to my heart. Din Djarin as a character is what got me back into writing after what must have been five years? He inspired something. His manner, his personality—he resonated with me as a person in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. And gave me back a creative outlet I had been missing.

It’s funny to say out loud—but I wanted to give him something? I spent so long thinking about his character that half my brain felt like it belonged to him—how he reacted and responded to things etc. and of course, like every dreamy Pisces—I wanted to give him love and happiness. So, Stitches came along. Personally, when writing—it’s a combination of characters, emotional development and spice (I can’t help myself) and when we can follow that development. With Stitches, it’s definitely the spice that is the conduit for development—but I adore showing how the physical can help people who struggle to communicate emotions too complex for words.

I don’t usually read for Din, as most people know—but I do enjoy reading the type of work that Stitches is. Human, damaged—but still with an undercurrent of hope that makes me think of children’s books.

You said, “much like writing today, I answered myself.” Could you talk about that in relation to Stitches?

So, I’m endlessly curious, it has to be said. Especially about why people are the way they are. Why people do A instead of B. Why X person’s immediate thought went to this place instead of that place. And I’m rarely satisfied with superficial explanations. One of the most exciting parts of writing and fanfiction especially, is making sense of that why. There can be countless explanations, some that are content with what is seen on the surface and some that go deep and some that go even deeper still.

Stitches is almost a – very long winded and much too long – answer to the questions I was so intrigued by about Din Djarin, about the Mandalorian and about the Star Wars universe as a whole. I often wondered what happened to people after the Rebellion, the normal people who fought—the people in the background. What did they do next? Did some of them suffer from PTSD? What was the galaxy like right after the Empire fell? That first season of the Mandalorian answered some of those questions, but I wanted to know more. So, I created a reader insert who was a combat medic—and through her, I let myself answer the questions of what happened next.

Regarding Din as a character, I wanted to know what a bounty hunter with a code of honour would do in certain situations—what made him tick, what made hm vulnerable. I wanted to explore the discovery of his identity. Din Djarin didn’t exist after he was taken from Aq Vetina. He became a cog in a very efficient machine of Mandalorians—and it was safe there. I wanted to see what – or who – might encourage him to step into his own. Grogu was that person in a familial sense, but what about romantically? What about individually? There’s so much to explore with this man! So many facets of personality and nuances of character that make him so gorgeous to write and think about.

Talk to me about the Din Djarin Athletic Universe. How does Din as all of these forms of athlete play off who you see him as in canon?

The Athletic Universe! How I adore my athletes. Despite being in a modern setting, I have kept the core of Din’s character in each of them (at least I hope I have!). I like to divide Din’s character into three phases when it comes to canon because he’s not as immovable as people seem to think he is. We discussed this before, how I see Din as a water element—adaptable, but strong enough that he can be as steadfast as rock. But I digress, the first phase is the character we see in the first episode. Basically, before Grogu. There’s an aggressive brutality to Din when we see him bounty hunting. He works on autopilot and isn’t swayed by sob stories or promises. He has the covert but is ultimately separate. Those soft feelings he comes to recognise when he has Grogu are dormant – not non-existent – but they haven’t been nurtured or encouraged. This is the point I extracted Boxer!Din’s personality and story from.

Cyclist!Din on the other hand—is already a father, a biological father to Grogu. And his personality, I took from that moment in the finale of Season two where I believe Din’s transformative arc of character solidified. He was always a father to Grogu, but I do believe that moment where he removes his helmet is the moment, he accepts that role fully in his heart and mind. And that is why I don’t believe for a second, that removing his helmet was him breaking his Creed. In fact, I believe it was the purest act he could do in devotion to his Creed—to his foundling, to his son. The Cyclist!AU is very much the character I see canon Din having should Grogu have stayed with him. This single dad who isn’t quite sure how he got to where he is now—but does anything and everything for his child without thought. It’s a natural instinct for him, and I like exploring those possibilities with Cyclist!Din.

You also said, “he has the covert but is ultimately separate.” What does it take for him — and you — to get to that point of being ‘not separate?’

I mentioned this above, but one of the biggest interests I have in Din as a character is his identity. He’s a Mandalorian, he’s a bounty hunter, he’s the child’s guardian but those are all what he is, not who. I think Din is separate while being part of the covert because he doesn’t know. I don’t think anyone can really be part of something if they don’t know who they are or, they struggle with their identity. It’s curious to me—how you can deceive even yourself to mimic the standard set for the many. In the boxer verse, he identifies himself in relation to his boxing—and every part of his outward personality exhibits those qualities. But when he’s given a softer touch—an outlet of affection, and comfort—we see the softer side of him surface. It’s very much the same with Stitches Din. Identity is like anything, emotions—relationships, bodies. It needs nurturing to thrive, an open door—a safe space. At least, that’s what goes through my mind when I think of him.

Who is your favorite character to read?

Frankie because there are so many ways his character can be interpreted and there are some stellar versions of him that I think of at least once a day. Javi because he reminds me of kintsugi-- golden recovery, broken pottery where the cracks are highlighted with gold. I also adore reading for Boba Fett, Paz Viszla and the clones!

Is there anything else you want your readers to know about you, your writing, or your creative process?

Hmm... only that I am quite literally a gremlin clown who is always here to chat Din, Star Wars, literature, book recs and anything else under the sun! I like to hear people's stories, their opinions etc. it helps me see things from alternative points of view and can truly help the writing process! Other than that, I think I can only thank readers for putting up with my ridiculously long chapters and rambling introspection. Thank you for indulging me always! ❤️

[funtimebunnyblog]

Always remember Pillarmen-lovers and followers alike, no matter what you like to wear or what you like to put on your body; you are absolutely stunning! 😍😍😍 You rock those tattoos, piercings, whatever you wear; wear them with your head held high! 😇🥰😘 Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

The Pillarmen with a Female s/o with tattoos (who also gets unwanted comments about them)...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• At first, Kars doesn't quite understand the exact appeal of tattoos.

• Sure, some of them admittedly looked nice and they were art in their own respect, but they were also known to be quite painful for Humans not to mention they were something very permanent to put on the body...

• He doesn't really understand why someone would go out of their way to get something so gaudy imprinted on their skin.

• You'll have to forgive him because when you're first getting to know him as he openly looks down on you for having some of your own; especially since you're a Woman.

• He states that you should treat your body like a temple and not "graffiti" it with something so "manish" and "distasteful" which you of course simply shrug off.

• You've heard this enough times to not care.

• However, after you give him some time and he's heard any stories you happen to have behind your tats or perhaps once he sees how truly harmless it all is, he comes around.

• Kars comes to realize that they're just another piece of what made you "you" and he supposed that you could be into far worse things than just simple pictures drawn on your skin...

• Besides... he has to admit you look very beautiful with them.

• From that moment on, if anyone happens to say anything negative about your ink, he puts haters and nay-sayers alike in their place.

• "You know, it's not very ladylike to have tattoos." You could feel the sneer of the Woman behind you as she let her poisonous words drip off her tongue but you didn't turn around.

• This wasn't the first time this happened and it was better to pretend you didn't hear.

• Kars, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat. "It's also not very ladylike to make bitchy comments but it appears that would just be your whole personality." He commented, cocking an eyebrow at the now gawking Woman from over his shoulder.

• You couldn't contain the snort of laughter that burst forth, Kars smiled softly as you clung to his arm with a wheeze. The offending Woman didn't make anymore comments.

• Kars was sure that if he could open his mind to see the beauty of tattoos and learn to accept them, others should do the same.

Esidisi:

• Hands down, Esidisi absolutely ADORES your tattoos!

• He thinks they're a beautiful form of art to display on the body and that they are something definitely to be admired.

• Most especially since they're on you!

• Even from the first time you two met, he wanted to see every single one you had and hear any stories you happened to have behind them.

• Even if the stories happened to go along the lines of "I got really drunk with some friends and--"

• For quite a while he's wanted to get tattoos of his own but never really found the time, not to mention something worthwhile to get.

• Millennium ago, tattoos were in fact quite time consuming to get done (they required not only a steady hand but the patience of a Saint as well) and he couldn't waste much time when on the hunt for the Aja afterall.

• However, once introduced to the modern tattooing art and with lots of time to spare, you were what inspired him to step up and finally get a few of his own done!

• What he really wants is to get his arms covered in intricate patterns and pictures.

• In fact, Esidisi is the kind of person to want to get a matching tattoo with you or at least one with your name somewhere on his body.

• Of course, he does not stand for anyone saying anything hurtful or negative about your own tats.

• "Hey!" The yelling of the guy calling out to you from his truck as you walked down the street instinctively made you freeze for only half-a-second. "I'd fuck you if you didn't have so many tattoos, bitch!"

• His words made an ickyness swirl up from your gut to your throat. Though disgusted, you kept your face carefully neutral and tried to keep walking.

• Those kinds of deragatory comments just weren't worth the effort of fighting back.

• Esidisi, however, wasn't one to stand back and let someone disrespect you like that.

• "Yeah? And maybe somebody would actually fuck you if you had some, dickhead!" He called back, grinning as the guys mouth immediately snapped shut.

• The Pillarman's quick clap-back was enough to make a huge smile stretch across your face; only fueled by the massive hand wrapping around yours as you both kept walking.

• With Esidisi around, you would never have to waste time or energy on derogatory comments ever again.

Wamuu:

• Wamuu had only seen these "tattoos" a handful of times in his life.

• He was well aware of the art and the practice took to create them but never had them done on himself or seen the action up close.

• The very few times he had seen tattoos on someone, it was for battle purposes.

• Most often worn by great Warriors who had fought many fights and had them done to commemorate victories won or even lives lost.

• Upon meeting you and spotting your ink, Wamuu was immediately under the impression that you were a Female Warrior (a rarity) and wanted to know everything about the tapestry of "victories" on your skin.

• "This tattoo, what is its symbolism? Was this to commemorate a fight? Battle, perhaps?" He questioned, a calloused finger poking you softly in your flesh as he spoke.

• You could only blink stupidly, not quite sure what he was going on about. "Wamuu... that's Hello Kitty."

• When you explain to him that your tattoos hold no great "symbolism" or "battle tributes" it takes a while for him to wrap his head around it.

• People nowadays did this... for fun? Simply "because"? Sometimes they did it to show love or appreciation to something?

• It was a strange phenomenon but he eventually finds himself nodding his head in understanding.

• If anything, even if it isn't for a Warriors devices, he finds all tattoos unique and something to behold.

• He even starts thinking about getting one of his own simply "for fun".

• What he still doesn't understand is why there are so many people who were so closed minded concerning these things, especially towards Women like yourself.

• He doesn't appreciate it when people are rude or disrespectful to the things you like; this being no exception.

• "Ugh! You should really cover those up!" You turned your head to find another Woman pointing accusingly at one of your tattoos, an ugly scowl etched into her face. "I shouldn't have to see something so distasteful!"

• You opened your mouth, prepared to tell her to mind her business and keep going about your own when suddenly Wamuu appeared right behind her. The massive man sternly pulled a bag right over her head, completely covering her face.

• "If you do not like the look of them, then perhaps you should simply cover your eyes, Human!" He growled, leaving the rude lady to try and pull the bag off her head as he took your hand and proudly walked off with you.

• Now if only everyone could live that philosophy, life would truly be peaceful for you. Until then, you were just happy you had Wamuu to spread those words of wisdom for you.

Santana:

• Upon first meeting you, your tattoos intrigued Santana more than anything.

• He had never really seen anything of the like before encountering you.

• At first, he thought that they were simply a born pigmentation to your skin. Perhaps you were a different kind of Human alltogether? Did this hold some sort of direct link to your kind attracting a Mate?

• If the latter by chance, he had to say it was working.

• You couldn't help but laugh, watching as he traced his fingers along the shapes and pictures of your ink; he was absolutely mesmerized by the artwork stretching across the canvas of your skin.

• This was definitely MUCH more preferable than someone looking down their nose at you for having them.

• However, once you explained to him that you had them physically drawn onto your skin with ink and needles it only intrigued him more.

• He wanted to know everything about these "tattoos" including just how they were done and why exactly some people took time to get them.

• This resulted you dragging him along to a tattoo parlor so he could watch and learn first hand; which then lead to Santana getting his first tattoo shortly after on his thigh.

• "Aww, now what's a pretty girl like you doing with something so ugly like that on her skin?" The lady behind the counter who was ringing up your items smiled almost sickeningly sweet as she spoke, making you only want to roll your eyes even more.

• Oh boy, here it comes. You just couldn't walk to the store to get a bag of chips and a drink without someone making a comment, could you?

• "You know, not a lot of men like those on a pretty girl, sweetie." She continued, as if unable to see you had no interest in what she had to say what-so-ever. "Maybe you should think about that if you ever want to find someone decent, hmm?"

• Santana's wild head of hair appeared out from behind the chip rack as she spoke, lips twisting as his eyebrows narrowed. He approached the counter with a huff, snatching the bag from it as he full on glared at the cashier.

• His eyes fell onto your bare skin, to the lovely shapes and colours that sparked all these unwanted comments. "Her skin is beautiful." He said, before his eyes fell onto the cashiers bare skin, his lips only pushing further downwards. "Your skin is boring, primitive."

• The look on the cashiers face after he said that only made your snacks taste even sweeter as you sat cuddled into the Pillarmans side back at Home.

[talatomaz]

crossing paths pt.i | diana prince x lance!reader

a/n: reader has the powers of telekinesis. since this was going to be really long, i decided to split it into two parts. also this may be slightly canon divergent since i’ve not watched flash in a long time.

warnings: mentions of fighting, death

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

reader is sara & laurel’s younger sister who works with team flash. after her and cisco’s experiment goes sideways, she finds herself trapped on an unknown earth not unlike her own

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“You’re absolutely sure this will work, Cisco?”

You asked, tying your hair up into a ponytail whilst the mechanical genius typed on his computer; the keys clacking under his fingertips.

“Yes. 100%. Well, more like 99%. Okay, if we’re being truly honest, then 93%.”

Cisco paused after each figure before turning his head to face you.

“Cisco-“

You started before the former interrupted, “Trust me, y/n. You’ll be fine. You just need to travel there, have a look around and then come straight back. We’ve done it so many times before.”

You and Cisco had been working on modifying the extrapolator your team often used to travel between different Earths. Or rather, you used to use them before the rebirth of the universe following Oliver’s sacrifice.

You cleared your throat at the thought of the vigilante. Having grown up with him and he having dated both of your older sisters meant that he was practically like your brother. And you were broken when you’d lost him so you’d left Team Arrow and came to work with Barry and his team instead.

Working with Team Flash was...different, to say the least. But having known them for several years, you got on well with them all, especially Cisco and Iris.

However, this project you were working on was only known to you and Cisco; the others blissfully unaware, mainly because the two of you knew that if you told them, they’d guilt you into stopping your experiment.

You were the one who had gone to Cisco with the idea in the first place.

After the Crisis, many of you had assumed that everyone solely remained on one Earth however you believed that the multiverse still existed, but that it’d be much harder to access. Cisco had agreed to help you but had explained that he wouldn’t come with you due to his relinquished powers.

So here you were, getting ready to try out the extrapolator in order to confirm or disprove your theory that the multiverse still existed.

“Technically, we haven’t, Cisco. New Earth remember?”

“That’s just semantics.”

“Cisco, if this doesn’t work, you better be ready to explain to my ex-assassin of a sister what happened to me.”

You laughed as his face dropped at the thought of that conversation.

He cleared his throat, “I’ve done all the necessary calculations and made a few needed modifications, including a GPS chip. It’ll work, y/n. Here, take your mask. Just in case.”

He added as an afterthought, handing you the sleek black mask he had designed to disguise your identity.

You put the mask in your jacket and took a deep breath, readying yourself. Holding the extrapolator, you pressed the small button and a familiar portal opened in front of you; variations of colours swirling around the breach.

You looked back at Cisco and feigned seriousness, “If I die, I’m going to kill you.”

His eyes widened making you smile, “Be safe, Cisco. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you then stepped into the inter-dimensional breach.

***

“Okay, hopefully this worked.”

The breach closed behind you as you stepped into an alley; the several dumpsters providing some form of protection from anyone who may have seen you.

Wherever you were, it was bright and sunny.

Pocketing the extrapolator, you stepped out of the alley and walked down the paved sidewalk, listening for any indications of where you were from passersby.

You continued walking until you came across a newsstand that looked fairly out of place in this seemingly technological environment.

You stopped, peering at the front cover of one of the magazines.

The words “DAILY PLANET” were printed on the top of the paper. You reached down and picked it up, flicking through the pages, pausing when you saw a familiar name on the byline.

Folding the paper back into its original state, you placed it back on the stand, flashing a kind but brief smile to the newsagent who looked at you with intrigue.

Although you didn’t know what Earth you were on, at least you knew you were in Metropolis.

A place you had visited several times since the rebirth of the universe.

A place that, despite whatever Earth, was always home to one Clark Kent, better known as Superman.

You pondered in your thoughts for a little while longer before deciding to venture out and explore the city, eager to find any similarities or differences between your Earth and this one.

You ended up in a museum.

You weren’t sure exactly how you’d gotten there, having followed wherever your feet had taken you but, nevertheless, you were here.

Whilst you were never a huge fan of museums, you’d often found yourself being dragged to them by Laurel when you were younger.

There was something about them that she’d loved.

She tried explaining it to you once.

How the beauty of art told a story or something.

You didn’t really pay much attention and who could have blamed you? You were only 10 years old. You’d rather be out playing or hanging out with your friends than spending your Saturday afternoon in a stuffy old museum.

But this place was anything but.

In truth, you knew that you sought solace in places like these during times of distress or uncertainty.

It gave you a chance to feel closer to your sister after the world had cruelly taken her away from you. Even on another Earth, you still found peace and felt her presence next to you.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging before tensing once more, feeling someone behind you.

You never used to be so on edge.

When you were younger, you lived such a care free life, never feeling any need to be concerned or cautious.

But that had changed quickly.

Soon you had been thrust into the vigilante life, more determined than ever to become like your sisters and help them fight crime.

In fact, you had learned to fight from a reluctant Sara.

After several arguments about the danger of her world, she’d come to accept that there was no changing your mind and had decided that if you were going to purposely put yourself in harm’s way, you needed to be prepared. She had put you through vigorous training which Oliver soon picked up with you after Sara had been recruited to form the Legends.

So, suffice it to say, you were well-versed in the forms of self-defence and were constantly on the lookout for any form of danger.

And being on a different Earth certainly warranted your caution.

“How are you liking our exhibit?”

A feminine voice said, her voice thick with an accent you couldn’t distinguish.

Turning with a smile, you spoke, “It’s beautiful. I never used to appreciate art but now I find myself lost in the works of Rembrandt or Claude Monet.”

“Ah yes. They were most excellent artists.”

You blinked, not at her words but at her face.

The woman who stood before you was, quite simply put, the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life.

Realising you were staring, you cleared your throat, “Yes, I agree.”

You opened your mouth to say something else - what, you weren’t sure of - when you closed it again having spotted a man who’d just entered the room which held the small exhibit.

The figure wore a black cap, obstructing his face, his eyes darting around before landing on another male situated in one of the corners of the room. The latter gave him a brief nod which the other returned. Discreetly glancing at them, you noticed familiar bulges beneath their shirt, surely holding a gun.

“Okay, don’t be alarmed but I think this place is about to get robbed.” You said in a hushed whisper, faking interest in another piece of art beside you.

You noted the small but discernible flicker in the woman’s eyes, her name still unknown to you.

“How-“

“Let’s just say I’m perceptive. Do me a favour and take out your phone.”

You waited until the brunette had followed your instructions.

“Pretend to be talking to someone and walk out the room. They’re not going to do anything until you’re gone because they don’t want to run the risk of you warning someone.”

She nodded at your words and proceeded to carry out your plan.

You fought the look of surprise and confusion that surely would’ve shown on your face at the lack of fear on hers. Instead, her eyes seemed to hold a look of determination.

Determined to do what, you weren’t sure of.

Once she had left, your suspicions were confirmed when the two men simultaneously took out their guns and shouted.

“Everybody down on the ground. Now!”

Screams and shouts were let out by the small group of citizens in the room, replacing the quiet bustle of hushed whispers that had previously filled the air.

As everyone immediately fell to the ground, you slid down the wall until you were in an upright position.

You watched as they removed several of the smaller pieces of art, carefully placing them in a duffel bag. You waited until they grew closer to you before standing up causing both of their guns to be aimed at you.

“Sit back down or you’ll get a bullet in your pretty little head.”

They both moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the view of the security cameras and the people behind them. Using your powers, you pulled the guns toward you and flung them to the far side of the room.

You took advantage of their momentary confusion and kicked both of them. One of them grabbed you from behind, his tight grip trapping your arms. You raised your legs and caged the other’s neck between them.

Twisting your legs, you threw him to the ground and then drew yourself closer into your captor’s arms, lifting off the ground for a brief second before throwing him over your shoulders and onto the ground beside the other intruder.

“Run!”

You yelled to the handful of citizens who watched you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Then you felt yourself being pushed against the marble ground as one of the men jumped on top of you, his weight crushing your small figure.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.” He snarled against your ear.

You threw your head back, smirking when you heard the grunt of pain and several curses falling from the man’s lips.

You raised your hands and with it, the other man floated in the air. With a wave of your wrist, he went crashing into his friend and they slumped into a corner.

You quickly picked yourself up and ran out of the museum’s back exit, knowing you had to avoid the police at all costs.

Reaching an abandoned alley, similar to the one you first arrived in, you took out the inter-dimensional extrapolator, deciding it was way too dangerous for you to remain here any longer.

Pressing the device, you expected to see a breach form but to your shock, there was none. Inspecting the device, you saw that it had been broken, more than likely from when you’d been thrown against the ground by the robbers.

You muttered a foul curse before calming yourself.

Think, y/n. Think.

Your ears perked up at the familiar whistle and rattle of train tracks.

Okay, you knew what to do next.

You needed to go home.

Part 2 ->

[ingeniouscollectionthing]

Mine (Tom Riddle x Reader)

Request: Maybe some jealous Tom during the Yuleball smut? When he didn't ask the reader out and he gets into a fight with the dude she went with?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Dark, Spanking etc. the typical stuff.

“How dare you dance in the arms of another man?”, Tom grunted, as he slapped your already red ass once more. 

“How dare you let him touch you in the ways only I am allowed to?!”, now he aggressively pulled at your hair, making you arch your back, as he slammed his rock-hard cock into your cunt unbelievably fast.

“I – I’m so sorry Tommy, I didn’t mean to”, you said in a hoarse voice, before another moan left your lips as Tom hit your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, babygirl…you fucking should be”. 

You should’ve seen it coming, really. All week long were you waiting for your boyfriend to ask you out to the annual Yule ball. You had everything planned; the dress you bought was the perfect mixture of sexy and elegant, just how he liked it. You also spent a good amount of money on beautiful underwear for him to discover - you were so excited to see the amazed lustful look he’d give you if you revealed it to him.

But he never mentioned attending the ball together, he never brought it up. So as you finally took it upon yourself to ask him out, the day of the ball, the only response you got –

“Oh come on, darling. I do not like participating in social gatherings like these, you know I never did.”

“You wouldn’t even consider to accompany your goddamn girlfriend? For Merlin’s sake Tom, do you ever think of the things I want? Or is your ego too big to consider a woman’s wish for once?!” He shrugged.

You couldn’t deny that you felt a pang of pain in your chest, but as always, you sucked it up, as you stormed out of his dorm, slamming the door in the process. Tom on the other hand just laughed at your ridiculous behaviour. You’d come around anyway, you always come back.

If he didn’t care about what you wanted, you might as well seek out another man to be your date tonight. Someone who’d give you the appreciation that you needed, after all most boys at Hogwarts literally licked the floor you walked on.

And sure enough there were at least ten of them trailing your steps through the corridors just to get your attention. You already found a date however, by the way without any efforts, really – someone Tom absolutely loathed with a great passion.

Acamus McLaggen, a Gryffindor in his last year – good looking, overconfident and arrogant – a Gryffindor at his truly worst. You knew he adored you, after all he was the one trying to sneak a love potion into your morning tea in 4th grade. Tom was furious back then. He’ll probably kill him now. Perfect Plan, you thought.

“Is this what you wanted, you little dumb girl? To be fucked? To be fucked by McLaggen?”, Tom spit with venom in his voice, one of his hands sneaking around your body to grab your throat. With great pressure his hand cut off your air supply, making tears appear in the corners of your eyes.

Just as you thought he’d let you suffocate, he let loose again. His cock still pounded into your pussy, rubbing deliciously on your clit everytime it went out and back into your warm walls.

“Yes that’s right. Now you’re sorry, huh? When I show you who you belong to”

You let out a scream as your second orgasm of the night clashed through you, making you squirt all over his muscled thighs. It wouldn’t be the last one either, you realized quickly, as Tom pulled out of you just to throw you onto the floor on your back. He crawled over you in between your aching legs, before he kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue. As he pulled back he looked at you and with a dirty smirk he wiped away your tears – then he plunged into your swollen pussy again, groaning as he felt your walls already constricting against him. You were completely overstimulated, however Tom utterly adored the way you screamed and whimpered for him to still continue, as your nails clawed down his broad back.

“Tommy…please make me cum again.. I’ll be a good girl I promise!”, you moaned, as he left marks all over your neck and cleavage.

“Who do you belong to?”, he whispered hungrily.

 Tom hasn’t seen you since you left him alone. Until now he didn’t even spend a single thought on you, but he quickly realized that he actually missed your mere presence by his side. Maybe he was a bit harsh on you, he thought, as he went over to your dorm, knocking before opening the door – just to find it empty. Tom was confused, you weren’t in your bed, like he expected you to be – you weren’t there waiting for him. The only thing on your bed was your school uniform, lying in an unorganized pile. He put two and two together though, quickly walking back to his room to change into a proper suit to attend the godforsaken ball. He needed to find you, because he knew that if you were all alone at that event, every single boy in Hogwarts would gawk at you, his girl – they’d try to touch you, dance with you, which was his job.

You were currently dancing in the arms of your dearest date, always sneaking glances at the entrance to hopefully spot your boyfriend.

“You know, Riddle is an idiot for not taking you out in that dress. You look absolutely ravishing”, Mclaggen whispered in your ear, making goosebumps appear on your skin. You shivered in an uncomfortable way, but still managed a smirk, replying in a sultry voice,

“Oh do I now?” McLaggend tightened his grip on your waist to your disgust, but you kept playing. “Maybe Tom is missing out on more than just this simple dress. Maybe now, that you’re here, you should be the one getting the surprise hiding underneath.” You could feel how his hands squeezed tighter as his breath stocked. McLaggen grinned and just seconds before his lips could meet your scarlet red ones, he was shoved off of you with a nasty punch to his face. Some students noticed the scene, trying to ignore it as to not aggravate the attacker even more. Tom was absolutely fuming, his hatred for McLaggen burning his very being, as he stepped over him, grabbing his colour to pick him up.

“Run McLaggen. Run and hide. And pray that I won’t find you”, Tom whispered, his eyes glowing in a sick tone of red, as he watched him run off.

You smiled as you slowly stepped into Tom’s line of sight, linking your hands behind his neck. His instinctively went to your waist, instantly erasing the revolting feeling of another mans hands on you. His eyes bore into yours now.

“How dare you? Wearing such a dress for such a boy?”, he spit out, clenching his teeth.

“What else was I supposed to do to get your attention, Tommy? This dress was meant for you and even more so what’s underneath. How else am I supposed to get pleased by a man when mine won’t even look at me, because he only cares about himself”, you bit back, biting your lip.

He laughed at you, a sick fake laugh.

“You know as well as I do that I am the only one capable of giving you unbelievable pleasure. I’m the only one allowed to watch as you moan and scream for more, as I pull orgasm after orgasm from your little desperate pussy”.

“That’s what you say, Tommy”. You smiled.

And with that his temper wore out – he grabbed your wrist, surely leaving marks on it, as he dragged you into some abandoned empty classroom.  Tom shoved you up against a wall after he locked the door, kissing you passionately and ripping your dress into shreds without as much of a thought. He didn’t even glance at your fancy underwear, ripping it too, before groping your whole body in a perverted and aggressive manner, clawing and slapping every piece of you he could get. As you finally freed him of his jacket and shirt, he lowered you onto your knees, fumbling with his belt and pants to get his rock hard cock out of its confines.

“Suck”, was his only order, as he grabbed your head, shoving his penis into your waiting mouth. You did your best, his cock hitting the back of your throat hard, making you almost gag. Just as he was on the verge of spilling his seed into your mouth, he pulled you off him, manoeuvring you to stand against the wall, making you present your ass to him, which he slapped a few times - hard. Your pussy was already glistening with your arousal, making it easy for him to slip inside without a warning.

Which brings us back to where we are now.  

 “I’m yours Tom! Only yours! I’m so sorry! Please! Please make me cum again”, you nearly cried from the overwhelming feeling.

Tom laughed at your begging, enjoying how he finally broke you into a whimpering and fucked out mess. Your nails still dug into his back and he loved that small amount of pain he got from it. With one last look at your beautiful face, he couldn’t keep it anymore.

“Merlin (Y/N), my little girl!” His hips stuttered, as your walls tightened deliciously around his pulsating cock. Again he felt a wet sensation on his thighs, and he smirked for he made you squirt again. You both panted hard, the world spinning around your heads, lost in the raw feeling of skin on skin.

Tom laid down beside you on the floor, turning you so that you faced his chest, engulfing you tightly in his arms. His breathing slowly returned to normal. His hand enclosed softly around your jaw, tilting your head upwards to meet his now sparkling blue eyes. You tried to focus on him, your vision getting blurrier by second, as you fought to stay conscious. You were beyond exhausted.

“Don’t worry”, Tom smirked darkly as your eyes closed. “I’ll keep you safe.” And right after he left a light kiss on your forehead – “You are mine”.

You slipped into unconsciousness, his dark laugh echoing in your mind.

It’s a bit short, but still fucking steamy. Hope you like it,

- ingeniouscollectionthing

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot. 

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER. 

d a m n  s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg. 

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.” 

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

[michellen324]

Heartslaybul Demon

Heartslaybul x Demon!Reader

Sypnosis: [Name] beating the shit out of Riddle in his Overblot form and possibly traumatizing the Heartslaybul dorm.

Disclaimers: I do not own Twst or KNY. As a demon, there will be mentions of violence, cannibalism and gore. Swearing is also included in this!

[Not that much Heartslaybul x Reader in this one too. I suck at romance :p]

Her eyes narrowed at the shorter boy in front of her. A barely audible sigh escaped her lips -stained red from blood, hers or someone else’s, she didn’t know- as she leant on a bush hedge in front of the crowd as two of her endearing idiots decided to battle the dorm leader for their freedom.

The fight began, and not a second later, the red and black collars snapped around their necks, blocking their use of magic.

A tyrant; He was no different from a tyrant, using his magic to harm others and have them bow before his feet for the sake of his rules. He was almost like him, but at least he wasn’t a merciless killer.

“You know..”

[Name] said, pushing herself off the bush hedges, and walking towards the trio.

“Enforcing these rules of yours are completely wrong, no? Are they really for the betterment of the dorm, or is it for your own hedonistic pleasure?”

The red-haired male turned towards her, angry that she dared defy him.

“What is wrong is all for me to decide! If you can’t even follow a simple rule, just what was your education like? You were probably born from parents that can barely use magic and didn’t even receive much in terms of schooling before coming here. You’re utterly inadequate.”

[Name] tilted her head at the boy’s words, letting a small smirk at his weak insults. If he was trying to get her angry, than he would have to do better. She’s heard better insults from the pitiful demons she’d kill in her lifespan. A small giggle left her mouth, making the few who heard her look at the girl in confusion.

Why was she laughing after she was insulted? 

“Shut the hell up!!”

Ace burst out, surprising the girl as he landed a solid punch on his dorm leader. Not bad. It was best if he did the punching, because if she were to start getting aggressive… she was most certain her target would end out alive -let alone in one piece.

An audible gasp was heard from the crowd of students, seeing their dorm leader get struck in the face extremely hard.

“Ahh... I don’t care. About the dorm leader, about the duel, any of it.”

“Ow... He hit me?....”

Sure, the dorm leader was skilled with magic, but considering his weak frame, he was easy to manhandle. A hit from Ace must’ve hurt him extra hard.

Ace muttered to himself, before going on a full blown rant. His words spoke nothing but truth, and you couldn’t have felt prouder at the fact his moral compass shone brighter than before.

[Name] hid her smile behind the flowing sleeve of her kimono, seeing Ace slowly push Riddle to the edge.

Finally, Riddle burst open and stated screaming as the headmaster and Trey attempted to calm him. With your sharper senses, you could hear another student in the crowd finally snap and throw an egg at Riddle. 

[Name] almost lost it right then in there, covering her muffled giggles with the soft cloth that was draped on her. 

Her laughs were soon stopped though, as the dorm leader collared every student. Sharp [EyeColour] eyes narrowed at the male, knowing full well that must’ve taken a lot out of him. 

She let out a small ‘tsk’ and felt the collar now around her neck, not liking the tightness of it. Breathing in, she felt he blood demon art still flow throughout her. It seems like the collar didn’t work when it came to demons. Now.. would it be possible to rip it off? It’s made from magic, but since it took on a physical form, surely she could destroy it with enough force. If that didn’t do it, maybe she could decapitate herself and wrangle the collar off.

As the students started flooding towards the exit of the garden, [Name] watched as a huge wave of magic erupted, transforming the once beautiful garden to what looked like a battleground.

Her hands reached the collar around her neck, and surely enough, she could snap the collar off, hearing a satisfying snap and crunch of the collar snapping in half. Huh, guess her theory was true.

[Name] braced herself for the impact of the magic force, but found herself facing nothing as sudden glowing symbols of the cards started flowing around, covering the rest of the students and protecting them from the force. The rainbow colours and faint glows made the card suits look increasingly beautiful as they flew around and illuminated her face in the darker garden.

It was Trey’s doodle suit! His magic had quite the potential after all, and she wondered if he would be able to overwrite her demon blood art, or if he could even overwrite someone’s existence? The magic could be deadly if used and manipulated in a creative way.

That was the final straw for Riddle, as he ticked slowly into madness. The smell of ink was stronger than before, and finally, Riddle stood looking different. He was in a dress decorated with thorns as his left eye glowed a red. His voice was a deeper echo than before, truly ending the look with a villainous touch.

To any normal person, they would be shaking by this threatening person however, [Name] was not a normal person. In fact, she wasn’t a person at all. She was a demon, and as all demons do, the one person they feared was the man they were forbidden to ever speak about, made by him, and cursed to never say his name.

In fact, as someone who has met and fought plenty of demons, all of them she met -even the unfortunate children- were much more terrifying than him.

[Name] let out a laugh; One that everyone could hear. This was amusing to her, and she briefly wondered what “Overblot” humans taste like.

“Uh, [Name]? I don’t think this is a time to be laughing.”

She waved off the concerned words of Ace and Deuce, as she walked towards Riddle. Everyone else made noises of surprise and displeasure, not knowing that [Name] was quite literally immortal and could not be killed anymore.

“How... How dare you!? I’ll take your head first!”

She let out another laugh at this. Even if her head was removed from her body, both would function just fine on their own. Her head would grow arms and eventually a body, while her body would act like a well-animated corpse until she instructed it not to.

“And how will you do that, Rosehearts-san? You’re collars won’t affect me, and even if you rip it off with your bear hands, I’ll still live.”

She mocked Riddle, walking closer to him. Now that she was out of range from Trey’s doodle suit, he attempted to collar her once again. A cold metal wrapped around her neck, and for a second, Riddle though he had won against the confident female. That was until he heard the snapping of a metal, to which he saw [Name] rip off the metal with her bare hands.

A scary smirk emerged on her face, making Riddle gulp and back away. Something about her... it screamed for him to get away from the scary [HairColour]-[n]ette female.

“Start praying to the Great 7, because you’ll be lucky to leave with every chunk of flesh on your bones.”

The battle was extremely one-sided, as Riddle couldn’t even dream of matching her physical capabilities. Despite the magic he shot left and right at her, she either dodged, or let herself get hit right on, only to suffer near to nothing or regenerate in less than five seconds.

The only real threats she faced were back in her world, but she was in a whole new one now.

[Name] made sure to hold back, as punch after punch, kick after kick, and throw after throw, [Name] finally had Riddle was beat into submission.

He was tired, over-exerted, and in pain. [Name] was perfectly fine however, and maybe even looking a little refreshed. The rest of the witnesses were in shock though, even Ace, Deuce, and Grim. The three knew that she was strong since she was able to defeat the monster in the mine with a single punch, but this took the cake.

Slowly but surely, Riddle turned back, the magic in the atmosphere being removed. As Riddle panted on the ground, he felt her grab his arm surprisingly lightly and felt himself move in front of her.

With a smile and a much more calm face, [Name] turned around to the (terrified) crowd of students looking at her.

“I’m done!~”

One face that showed pure bliss, others showing terror, that was the beginning of the rumors of the so called ‘magicless’ prefect, also known as.

“The Demon”

[sisterofsomeone]

Personal Training

- Katsuki Bakugou x fem!reader SFW

- Warnings: mention of harm, bandaging wounds, choking

- Summary: as a third year, you and your childhood friend Shinso have been moved from the general studies course onto the hero course. No one seems too keen on you two, until you meet Bakugou late one night in the training city and he seems to take a personal interest in you

———————

Wandering around the testing sites at midnight wasn’t something you should be doing, but ever since you got moved from general studies into the hero course it was the only way you could calm yourself down after a day of training. It was dark, the cold air still around your skin and the only light shining was from the full moon above you. You’ve always dreamt of being a hero, but knowing you couldn’t control your quirk, knowing you had the ability to seriously hurt someone if you lost control, you applied for general studies and vowed to learn to control your power before you tried to move into the hero course. Your thoughts drifted to Shinso, you two had been friends for years going all the way back to nursery, just two toddlers constantly holding hands and only ever with each other. Your chest swelled with pride thinking about how both of you had beaten the odds and been moved from general studies to the hero course after all your efforts. You were in your third year, you’d missed a whole two years of the intense hero course training but it meant you two finally got the attention you deserved. You were finally seen as hero material. Sure you felt bad for the people who got moved out, but you didn’t know them and they were obviously not making the most of the opportunity, so you were glad to take their spot. You had to be a hero at any cost.

It was quiet around you, the only noise you could hear was your own footsteps, your breathing the only sign of life. Your breath was coming out softly but because of the cold it was visible, the curls and twists of your breath softly disappearing into the moonlight. You’d been wandering around the town for a few hours now, watching the silent, dead city around you, the buildings towering over you and the roads stretched out and empty. It reminded you of home, disappearing after long days being bullied at school and skulking through the dying streets.

“You shouldn’t be here.” You hadn’t noticed the boy sneaking up on you. You could understand why he currently held your throat in his hands, you did look exceptionally different in and out of class. You didn’t bother fighting his grip, you knew this boy and he would certainly overpower you in hand to hand combat.

“You with that hand guy? He sent you in here to spy on me huh?” His grip tightened but you never once broke eye contact. His red eyes blown out with anger, his lips curled into a snarl and his breath warm on your face.

“I-I’m in your c-class dumb arse.” You managed to get out between shallow breaths. “The o-one with Shinso all the time. The new girl.” He seemed to believe you, releasing his grip on you ever so slightly but still eyeing you with intrigue.

“She has floaty purple hair, and that weird dark aura quirk thing...” You weren’t necessarily in the position to roll your eyes at him, but surely he should have noticed that your whole ‘dark aura quirk thing’ changed your physical appearance too? You’d fought him enough. You decided to indulge him, letting your power grow until you changed in his hands, the light from the moon almost being drawn into you as the darkness swirled and danced around you. Your body surged with the release of this power, your skin feeling hot, as if it was about to burn right off of your bones. You had never been able to control yourself before UA, and this place had shown you how to harness this power and use it to your advantage.

“Okay creep -“ he released you suddenly when your darkness started creeping up his arm and pulling him in. “- I believe you.” He was wiping his hand on his trousers now, obviously feeling the same burning you always did. You pulled your darkness back in, your hair falling flat against you, your eyes returning to their natural colour and your skin settling down. Dusting yourself off, you stood to face Bakugou. He towered over you, the boy growing to be over six foot during your time at UA.

“It’s almost as if you should believe me, seeing as I also live on the same floor as you.” Raising an eyebrow you tried to register his reaction but he didn’t seem to be paying you any more mind.

“Oi, I’m talking-“

“Shut up, I’m not interested anymore.” Sticking his hands in his pockets he turned on his heel and walked away from you. But you weren’t gonna let him get away that easily.

“Oi fucker! You don’t get to talk to me like that!” You walked after him, grabbing his arm.

“Get off.” He snapped back, his eyes dark and angry.

“Not until you apologise for trying to choke me out.”

“Not gonna happen sweetheart. Don’t wander around on your own acting all sketchy and I wouldn’t have had to.” This was ridiculous, all you wanted was an apology.

“But what about you huh?” He stopped walking and turned to face you.

“You’re skulking around here too, does that mean I get to choke you?” You smirked up at him feeling proud of yourself when his eyebrows furrowed.

“You can try, but I’ll kill you if you do extra.” This fucking guy.

“Are you serious right now? Like, does this act usually work on your classmates? Because I’m not scared of an immature man child who can’t even apologise when he’s done something wrong.” In a blur he’d managed to pin you up against the wall that you swore was 15 foot away from you two only seconds ago, his body pressed into yours and his hand around your throat again. You felt his thigh in between your legs, and you couldn’t help the shudder that moved through your body when he spoke.

“You should be scared of me, I’m gonna be number one, I’m the best.” He was staring directly into your eyes, not breaking the gaze he was bearing down on you.

“You think you’re gonna be number one? I beg to differ.” His cockyness seemed infectious. “I’ll beat you Bakugou, just you wait.”

———————

It had been a few weeks since your little scuffle and you had been trying to keep your word.

“Y/n, are you seriously gonna try and fight Bakugou right now?” You’d filled Shinso in on what had happened between the two of you and even though you knew he believed in your abilities, he really didn’t think you were ready to fight him.

“I need practise, and I can never go all out with you because I care about you, you’re my friend! It doesn’t work!” You laughed and Shinso rolled his eyes. He always asked you to go all in when you two sparred but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him, even if you knew he wouldn’t hate you, you would hate yourself.

“Look, he’s finally done with Kirishima so now’s my chance. I’ll be okay I promise.”

You totally weren’t okay. Bakugou had kicked your arse, and all he had to do was get close enough that you could feel the heat from his skin and place a hand on your waist during an attack and your hormone-riddled brain freaked out. Not that he’d noticed you’d frozen mid fight, so he just kept firing off attacks as you scrambled to think up a defensive strategy. But it was no use, one well aimed hit and you were down.

You were with Recovery Girl in the nurses office when Shinso popped his head in.

“Told you so.” He said bluntly, drawing a tut from Recovery Girl.

“If you’re gonna be negative she doesn’t need you in here. She need positivity for healing thank you.” He apologised and moved further into the room.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Tired I guess, and a little sore, but nothing bad. How did the rest of the lesson go?”

“Well, Bakugou and Todoroki got into another fight, Deku tried to break it up but that didn’t really work so they’ve all got dorm cleaning duties for the next week.” That got a chuckle out of you.

“Bakugou? Cleaning? Unlikely.”

“Oh yeah, Aizawa said he’d stop by randomly to make sure they were cleaning.” By now Recovery Girl had ushered you off of the bed and had begun handing you your clothes back.

“You’re all bandaged up, now get dressed and get out of here! And take some candy! You! Make sure she gets back to her room safely will you?” Shinso nodded as you slipped your jacket and shoes back on, wrapping his arm around your waist as a support. You were thankful for him, even if he was a miserable bastard most of the time.

———————

Shinso had managed to get you back in one piece, placing you on your bed softly. No one else had come to help, but you two had expected as much. Since being transferred in you had been singled out as the outsiders of the group, no one had even tried as much as to have dinner with you guys or watch the tv with you two. You were always alone together, you were each other’s rock.

“Hey Purple hair.” The voice behind him was rough and angry, you recognised it in an instant.

“Bakugou. What do you want?” Shinso tried to take no mind, keeping all of his focus on tucking you into bed.

“I need to speak to y/l/n. Alone.”

“I don’t trust you alone with her after today.”

“Let me speak to her.” Shinso turned to face him, his eyes burning holes into Bakugou’s head.

“After the stunt you pulled? No-“

“Toshi, I want to hear what he has to say.” You tugged on his shirt feebly, and his guard dropped. He always softened up around you.

“Fine. But I’ll be outside.” You mumbled a thank you as he barged past Bakugou, hitting him with his shoulder as he passed. Shutting the door behind himself, Bakugou entered your room looking oddly sheepish.

“Hey.” You started softly, not wanting to jump straight into a fight with the guy.

“Hey. About today? I mean, I’m not gonna say sorry because you asked to fight but I just wanna say that I should have noticed you freeze and let up a bit. I didn’t notice and Kirishima had to point it out to me later on, so yeah. Don’t come in unprepared next time.” Well. It was a start.

“Oh, I mean I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to freeze up on you trust me!” You tried to laugh it off, but the atmosphere in the room was way too weird.

“Was it because I touched you?” You blushed at this and dropped your gaze to the floor. Where you really that easy to read? “Because if it was then Kirishima owes me $20.” Oh.

“No. I don’t know why I froze but it wasn’t because you touched me.” He smirked at this, moving to sit on the end of your bed. You instinctively pulled your legs closer to yourself but he took this as an invite to spread out more. You took in his toned shoulders, his strong arms and long fingers. Your mind drifted, wandering how good they’d feel slipping under your shirt and -

“You’re not even listening are you?” He pulled you from your dirty thoughts and you shook your head.

“Wow. I said that it’s a shame, because I’d love to explore what else I can make you do with my hands.” He had to be joking right? You blinked at him, your mouth agape with pure confusion. 

“See? You’re all frozen again. I must have an effect on you.” He started moving closer to you, shifting on your bed until his lips were a mere inch away from yours. His eyes were boring into yours, but the pupils were flickering slightly from your eyes to your mouth. He raised a thumb to your lips, rubbing the calloused skin across your bottom lip. You swallowed, suddenly aware how fast your heart was beating and how clammy your hands had gotten. 

“Bok-” He placed a finger on your lips as if you quiet you. 

“Call me Katsuki, y/n. I have a feeling we’ll be training much more closely from here on out.” With that, he pulled away and stood from your bed. He left your room, glaring at Shinso who was waiting patiently outside. The purple haired boy ran into your room as quickly as he could, inspecting your face when he saw you red, hot and flushed. 

“I’m not even gonna ask what happened here.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“Oh, n-nothing happened. He just offered to train with me more.”

[booksforevermore13]

I know now

Summary: Harry heaved in a breath, and looked at her, this time seeing her for herself, and not the little girl he had gotten used to in his mind.

"I know now," he said.

And Lily smiled.

Read it on AO3 if you prefer.

...

"I learnt about fishes today." Harry heard Lily's voice and turned to look at her.

A smile tugged at his lips as he saw the small, though hazy figure of his daughter by the edge of the bed, red hair bundled on her head in an angry halo as she tugged her dress further down her knees.

One hand reached out beside him to find his glasses, flailing around when he felt a pair being gently put over his eyes. Harry kissed Lily's hands, brushing his beard against her palm and smiling as she giggled.

"Now, about the fishes," he started as Lily climbed up on the bed and crawled onto his stomach, Harry holding her by her side to keep her steady.

"I saw a movie today," she said, "about Dory. And Nemo. But I liked Dory the best," and Harry nodded, though he hadn't the slightest idea what she was saying. "Dory is blue in colour and she has yellow fins, like the yellow of the sun and she can breathe in water and make whale sounds, like this." She oohed and Harry laughed as she oohed until she lost her breath.

"Dory sounds good," he said seriously, lips set in a half-smile.

"I think she's really pretty. Even prettier than Mummy."

"Then I bet she's good."

"Mummy said so too. She said I was right."

Lily smiled triumphantly, and Harry smiled back, gently stroking her hair out of her bun. Lily hated her hair like that, but at three, it had grown past her shoulders, and Ginny had resorted to tying it every morning before school.

Lily didn't like that either.

"Daddy," she called now and Harry's eyes left her hair and settled on her.

"Hmm?"

"Can you make me Dory?"

"Make you - wait, what?"

Lily looked expectantly at him and he stared blankly back at her as he fumbled with what she said.

"Dory's a fish, Lils," he said after a while. "I don't think anyone can be Dory."

"But you can do anything," she protested. "And Mummy always says anyone can be anything they want."

And that was what Lily asked. Never an extra side of ice-cream or a piece of fudge in the middle of the night. A few months back, she'd asked him to turn her into a tiger. The month after, she'd wanted to be a princess. He'd agreed gladly to that, before she'd proposed he turn into a frog so that she could kiss him and he'd turn into a prince.

Now, it was Dory, the blue fish.

It seemed as if she took Ginny's advice most literally.

He was tempted to turn her down, at least the logical part of him did, but then he looked at her and saw the way she was staring at him, with that hopeful glint in her eyes and almost immediately knew she'd won.

She always did.

It wasn't a surprise when an hour later, when they looked into the mirror, they met with a disgruntled orange dad carrying his elated blue daughter, yet, both of them happy.

Dory and Nemo indeed.

...

"Think you can catch up, old man?" Lily said as she took off after the Snitch, her hair flying behind her, like her mother's had, years before. Harry watched with a smile as she flipped her broom in the air, hands steady as she shot off again in typical Weasley fashion. He had to warn her about that, but part of him — the part that defended his children from his wife after a poorly executed prank — knew she had it handled.

It was only after James had hollered at him to get moving, did he realize that he had to catch the Snitch too. "Sorry," he yelled as he took off behind Lily, searching for that familiar golden glint of light he'd gotten used to over the years before realising there wasn't any to follow.

He slowed down. A Wronski Feint, she'd been attempting and almost succeeded in pulling off.

She'd almost got him.

Almost.

"Why are you slowing down?" James yelled from his Keeper post as he dashed to block a Quaffle. Instead of kicking it away from him, he caught it, turned around and put it through the hoop.

Cheating it was, him playing Keeper and Chaser at the same time, but there were only four players, and his children were set on making it as realistic as possible.

Harry only smiled knowingly at James, the Dad-smile, the one that his children hated, before he heard Lily yell and took a sharp turn to face her.

She was holding something, something small and grinning widely and as Harry squinted, he saw a golden object in her fist, wings folded as it struggled against her grasp, a futile attempt to get out, as every Seeker knew.

"Wha—"

"Yes, Lily!" Albus yelled, before he even had a second to register his disbelief. He whooped and stuck out his tongue at James. "Take that, you oaf!"

"Oh, shut up," James muttered as his glare turned to Harry. "I swear Dad, if you took it easy on her—"

"I didn't!" Harry defended. "There - I thought - there wasn't any Snitch when I followed her!"

"What's she holding now, a trumpet?"

"Yeah I transfigured it into a Snitch," Lily said sarcastically from behind Harry and he could hear the distinct flutter of a Snitch caught. "Look around, you'll probably see the real one behind your shoulder.

Albus was laughing hysterically on his broom while they fought and Harry had a distinct feeling that there was something else going on between them three. He watched them for a few seconds, before turning to Lily.

"How did you do that?" he asked her, glancing yet again at the Snitch in her hand.

Lily shrugged, an arrogant smirk plastered on her face as her eyes gleamed with what he knew was glee. A smile made his way on his face as he took in her stance, one he'd seen many times before.

James yelled behind him, breaking through his reverie and Harry turned around, just barely catching him pass over a coin to his brother.

"You had bets?" he asked incredulously and Albus slipped the coin in his pocket with a sheepish grin.

"I thought that was obvious," Lily said flippantly from behind him and Harry frowned.

"What were you betting on?"

"Which of you'd catch the snitch first," James said, "thanks Dad. Really appreciate it."

"Your welcome," Lily piped in again and James glared at her. "What?" she defended, "everyone here knows I'm the only one here who can beat him."

"Bollocks."

"Yeah?" Lily mocked and Harry chuckled as he watched James rise up to the challenge, not long before they were yelling at each other, mostly led by James and Lily with the occasional comment from Albus that fuelled their entire brawl.

It'd take their mother to make them stop.

He laughed out loud when he saw Ginny walk outside with a chocolate covered spatula and brandish it at the three of them as she yelled something he couldn't hear.

He had been right.

Harry flew towards the ground, landing on his feet a few metres away from his wife. He smiled as he saw her turn to face him.

"Lily caught it," he announced, entirely unaware of himself and watched as Ginny smiled in amusement and turned away from him.

"Didn't expect that, did you?"

"Absolutely not."

They walked into the house, Ginny heading towards the kitchen and Harry following her. He watched her for a while as she bustled about, taking out the eggs from the fridge and flour from the cabinet, attempting to open the sugar with one hand before Harry did it for her.

"Where are they?" he asked after a second, noting the absence of his children hovering around the kitchen.

"The boys are upstairs," Ginny stated, "Lils said she'll be at Luna's. Said she had some work."

"Work?"

"Yes, well, we both know what work she actually has."

Ginny looked up at him, grinning. First year off at Hogwarts and Lily had stepped out the train with her three newly indicted friends, two of them being her cousins. The Marauders, they called themselves. The two years that had followed, they'd only grown closer, choosing to spend all their time together, Luna's house being their place.

Mostly because she never interfered.

Harry had only grown to notice the striking similarity they had to the original four.

"It's an acquired name, but I don't think they'll mind," Ginny said softly and Harry laughed, recognizing the words Lily had said the day she'd come back from Hogwarts.

"They won't," he agreed. "They'd be proud, actually."

He dipped one finger in the batter, laughing as Ginny swatted it off.

"Are you upset?" she teased as she continued mixing the batter with her spatula.

"About what?"

"Third time this week you couldn't catch the snitch" she pointed out and Harry laughed.

Five years ago, he'd been the one teaching Lily how to catch a snitch. How the roles had reversed.

"She's clever, I'll give you that," Harry said. "Though I can't fathom how she managed to hide the Snitch from me."

"She didn't," Ginny said with a smile. "I thought you of all people wouldn't fall for that."

"What do you mean?"

Harry waited for her answer but then frowned as he saw her smile fall.

"Nothing," she replied finally and sighed. "One day you'll realise she's more like you than you'll ever know."

He didn't know what Ginny was hinting at. It had become obvious over the months that he was struggling, reaching out to Lily. At fourteen, it seemed whatever he said, it wasn't enough to understand her. His own daughter was a mystery to him, and sometimes he envied Ron for the easy understanding he had with Rose.

"I don't get it," Harry muttered as he slipped her hands around Ginny's waist, bringing her back closer to his chest. He bent forward, pressing his lips below her ear and Ginny smiled sadly.

"I hope you don't mind getting flour on that shirt."

Harry didn't answer, and Ginny arched her neck to look at him. "You're going to tell me what you're thinking?" she asked, and he smiled down at her as he saw her eyes shrouded with concern. Even after all these years, she knew exactly what he was feeling, every time.

He shook his head and Ginny turned around, Harry's arms still around her.

"I don't know her anymore," he admitted. "Not like-not like I did back then." He sighed. "I don't think I even know what her favourite colour is now," he said, looking down at his wife.

"It's still green, I can tell you. Green like the forest—"

"After the rain," Harry finished and laughed.

He remembered when Lily had said that for the first time. She was three, her biggest fascination then, being his eyes. He remembered how she had begged him one day to change her brown eyes to his green, and he'd wondered why. Her eyes were the most exquisite ones he'd seen, exactly like her mother's, but apparently, the three year old thought differently. He'd taken her to the forest the next day and told her to choose a leaf, any leaf so that he could transfigure it to something she'd be able to keep with her always. He'd not expected her to choose the entire forest, and Harry had simply smiled then at the innocence with which she'd looked at him.

"She's going to be seventeen soon," he said finally. "She's not… my little girl anymore."

"Yet she still looks at you like she's three."

"And I hope that never changes."

...

Ginny was outside. He knew she could listen to each and every word he said. He looked across him at Lily, and then back at the ground again.

This was not for Lily.

She was not made for the Ministry. She was not supposed to be an Auror.

How was Ginny not seeing this?

How had she accepted it so easily?

Twenty-five years ago, when he'd walked into the Ministry, he'd vowed that things would change. They had to at that time.

Fifteen years later, he'd found himself vowing he'd not let his children suffer the same fate he had had. That he'd not let them become a pawn of the Ministry.

To his credit, he'd succeeded.

Three years ago, when James decided to become a Curse Breaker, he'd felt the relief that one felt after a hard job well done. One year later, when Albus claimed his dreams of becoming a Healer, he'd been satisfied. He had been so sure he'd saved them from a miserable future.

Harry had never expected his youngest to say those words.

"Dad," Lily urged now. "Dad."

Harry looked up from the floor, and met with his daughter's eyes, carrying a look he'd seen many times before. It was the look she had before she caught the Snitch, the one she'd had when she'd asked him to turn her into Dory so many years ago.

It was when she was unstoppable.

"How'd it come to this, Lils?" Harry asked. "Why an Auror? I always thought you wanted to play Quidditch. Like your mum."

What had gone wrong?

"That was when I was eleven, Dad," Lily said, and he had that unworldly feeling that he had let her down. "I'm seventeen now. I know what I want to do."

"No you don't, Lils," he said. "The Ministry isn't what it was before. It isn't—"

"You don't think I know that?" Lily said quietly, and he could see the anger flashing in her eyes.

She knew that. She'd known that for years now.

She'd been on the receiving side of it.

Four years back, when she'd needed help, the Ministry hadn't given it.

Four years back, when she'd been cornered by Dementors in broad daylight, the Ministry hadn't come to her rescue.

He remembered the muffled cries he'd heard from her room that night, cries she'd tried hard to suppress, but hadn't been able to. She'd been the witness to the work of a Dementor. An innocent Muggle being a victim. He knew she blamed herself. For not being able to produce a Patronus. For not being able to save a person who'd only ever tried to help.

He'd failed in protecting her.

And she'd paid the price.

Eleven years back and it had happened again.

She had a friend. Julian. He remembered him. When they were seven, they liked to play in the pond at the back of their house, pretending to be frogs turned into princes. He remembered how the cookies vanished when they were together, how the swing he'd tied to the poplar tree in their garden was reserved only for them.

That day Ginny had had to go out, so Lily had gone over to play with him.

Harry had always known his work would one day catch up with him.

Just never like this.

When he'd got that message from Ginny, her horse prancing around the room in a panicked gallop, he knew it had happened. When he Apparated into their house, Julian's parents were the first thing he saw. Lying on the floor, victims of the killing curse.

But nothing could have prepared him from what he saw upstairs.

Julian's body. His eyes gazing into the ceiling, his hands which had never stayed still before, lying limp on the ground. It was very much unlike the sandy-haired boy he'd grown accustomed to see during the weekends, sitting opposite to him in the kitchen as he helped himself to Ginny's pancakes.

Beside him, Lily lay on her mother's lap, sobbing into her shirt, but refusing to leave Julian's side. He could hear her incoherent cries, her mumbles as she repeated a phrase over and over again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

And his heart broke, because his little girl had seen something no child should ever have to see.

Because she'd watched her friend die.

Because he'd failed again.

And she'd paid the price.

Lily knew the Ministry — better than even he did — how they chose whom to save, how they chose whom they forgot, their cases never to be heard of again. How the Ministry had slowly lost sight of what they were fighting for. How it was just a crumbling shell in the place of what it had once been.

And even though it was the most daunting thing he'd ever admitted to himself, deep down, he knew that Lily was wired to this. Just like he'd been at her age, this was what she knew she wanted to do.

But unlike him, he knew she'd succeed in what he failed.

And even though he didn't understand, he knew he didn't have a choice.

"I always thought you wanted to be a Quidditch player," he said, and Lily smiled, her eyes tired. As if she was tired of fighting for herself.

But he knew she still had fight left.

"I think you lost me there on the way," she replied finally and Harry smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I probably did."

"One day you'll realise she's more like you than you'll ever know."

He'd never understand, but he'd try.

He'd vowed he'd never let his children do the same mistakes he had, but perhaps, that vow had been more for him than it was for them. And in the end, he knew that him being an Auror had only fueled the fire he'd begun to see in his daughter.

Perhaps, him being an Auror hadn't been a mistake at all.

If that's what she wanted to be.

"You know, Dad," Lily said, and Harry, for a second there, saw a hint of fear in her eyes but didn't know what it was for. "I don't exactly need your permission."

"I know you don't."

"I'd just really like you to know."

Harry nodded, his green eyes glinting with unshed tears. Green like the forest a rainy day, she'd said. Green like his.

Because if there was one thing he'd always known about his daughter, it was that she knew him. That even when he'd lacked in being a father to her at times, she'd never lost sight of him.

Even when he hadn't listened to her present.

But he'd listen to her now. He'd do for her what he should have done years back.

Listen.

So he smiled because he'd lost her there, but never completely. Because she was his daughter. Because she was his to protect and let go.

Because she was more like him than he'd ever know.

Harry heaved in a breath, and looked at her, this time seeing her for herself, and not the little girl he had gotten used to in his mind.

"I know now," he said.

And Lily smiled.

...

Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Huge, huge thanks to my teammates for beta-ing!!

[calboniferous]

In Theory

Work 1 in The Pen and the Sword aka. my jedi and academics AU

A stressed post-graduate anthropology researcher from Coruscant University enters the Jedi Archives for the first time and is promptly taken under the wing of one Master Archivist Jocasta Nu.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32355310

—

Master Jocasta Nu felt the visitor before she saw them. Stress and a frenetic energy radiated through the force tangled with the unique threads of emotion and colour that made up their signature.

Closing the book in front of her with a soft thud, mindful of its frayed edges, she appraised the blue nautolan hurrying towards her. Their worn brown coat was unbuttoned and struggling to stay onto their shoulders, saved by the strap of the bag hanging off one side which the nautolan had one arm wrapped around. Apparently, the bag’s tie had lost the battle against the tide of flimsy and datapads making the simple bag bulge obscenely.

Ah.

A scholar.

Like the many before them, they had come to Master Nu’s beloved archives in hope of finding salvation in its hallowed stacks. With her guidance, they always did and more often than not, they would return again. And again.

However, this scholar was not one that Master Nu had seen before and as they glanced wide-eyed at the towering shelves, shying away from passing Jedi, she surmised that the Jedi archives were unfamiliar to them also.

They reached her desk out of breath.

“I need books on Kante martial arts and history. Do you have books on Kante? If it has historical martial arts then that would be incredible but I’m setting the bar low. Really, the bar is non-existent. Should I even be setting a bar I don’t know- do you know what the Kante are? Were? They’re extinct”

“Young one, breathe.” Master Nu said, lifting her hand to interrupt the rush of words. Her brow softened in sympathy, “How about you start from the beginning and tell me what your thesis is and then we’ll go about finding resources.”

She signalled to one of the Padawans stacking holopads nearby for them to take over monitoring the main desk and led Tema to one of the many sunlit alcoves tucked between the buttresses.

Settling on a cushion across the low table from the sleep deprived nautolan, Master Nu pulled out her well-worn datapad, ready to formulate a list of texts to recommend for this student’s project. She had gathered quite the collection of such lists over the years and took great pride in curating them. Often, she would continue to add to them in her spare time so that when the person they had been made for returned, it was waiting and ready. And, if Master Nu happened to enjoy the thrill of a hunt for obscure references through her own archives every now and again, that was her own business.

Stylus in hand, she was ready to begin.

“You mentioned martial arts?”

“Right. Yes. I’m studying the fighting style of the Kante people which they used to reclaim their lands 7000 years ago after it was conquered in the Chandrillan Divide. The politics of the reclamation itself have been documented to death but there’s kriff all discussing how they actually fought,”

Master Nu hummed sympathetically, listening as a classic university post-graduate research tragedy poured out in all its glory. The purple shadows smeared under Tema’s dark eyes suggested that more than one night had been lost to this.

It was a credit to her Jedi training and skill as an archivist that Master Nu could write notes, elegant script flitting smoothly across the datapad without misspelling a single title or name, while offering comforting hums and interjecting words of encouragement where Tema faltered.

“So now I need to piece it together myself in order to build a theory on how the Kante people approached battlefield strategy,” Tema finished, fidgeting with their bag strap.

Setting her stylus down, Master Nu surveyed the drafted list with a critical eye. It was a daunting selection. She weighed the situation in her mind and carefully turned the datapad off, placing it down with a muted click of metal on the polished stone table.

“That’s quite the task you’ve got” Master Nu said, “more than an Honours project scope covers.”

She loathed to discourage any scholar but there were limits to the workload that could be shouldered and she had a strict honesty policy. With all her Jedi compassion and experience ad Head Archivist, Master Nu knew how to recognise when a student needed guidance in whittling down their research focus to a reasonable magnitude.

“I know,” Tema sighed, shoulders sagging, “I know but my project topic has already been approved by my supervisor.”

“Dear, your project as it stands is enough to satisfy a PhD and beyond. I can tell you are passionate about it but it’d be a tragedy for you to fail because you tried to complete years’ worth of work in the 10 months you have.”

The blue nautolan wilted a little, head tails curling.

“I don’t see what choice I have. I can’t form a thesis on the merits of Kante strategy without knowing how it worked at the individual level,” they said, resignation colouring their force signature grey with worry.

Master Nu paused, and after a moment spoke.

“Have you considered centring your project on the martial arts itself? At the individual level, as you say. Leaving the rest aside to focus on that should technically be within your project topic.”

Tema blinked, “That’s…that would work. Yes.”

Master Nu watched as they turned the idea over, considering how to approach it.

“Yes. That would make it more of a research-and-reconstruction project. A literature review with practical application.”

They gave a wry smile, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

Some of the frazzled emotion of their presence eased and a few threads of humour sparked in its wake.

“I could have saved myself from being sick from worry in the University ‘freshers yesterday.”

They flushed a little darker at that admission and Master Nu suppressed what would have been a rather unprofessional snort of amusement as she clicked the datapad back on. Ah, younglings. They never changed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear. That amount of stress isn’t conducive to clarity of mind, I’d wager,” Master Nu soothed, deleting a few items from the list with a satisfied air, “You’re hardly the first person’s I’ve known to have an adverse reaction to academic stress. Now, I do believe this list is ready.”

Rising with more grace than her age suggested she was capable of, she smoothed the creases in her cream and straw-gold robes and led the way into the maze of columns and shelves. Tema followed a step behind in a manner that to any observers bore remarkable resemblance to a duckling following its mother – if ducklings were six-and-a-half feet tall, that is.

“Somehow I find it hard to imagine a Jedi getting sick from assignments,” they mused absentmindedly, tipping their head to catch some of the book titles they passed, “all this information – it’d be hard to fail.”

Master Nu chuckled at that, passing through an archway into a side corridor.

“I’m afraid it can happen to anyone. One of my agemates routinely emptied his stomach at the prospect of examinations – that one, in fact,” she said, gesturing to one of the bronze busts lining the hall. The metallic features gave the human man depicted a severe expression. In Master Nu’s opinion, it was rather true to life even if the beard was far to neatly sculpted.

“The poor man. Perfection was as much his vice as his virtue.”

She smiled fondly, crows’ feet crinkling with nostalgia at sharing this particular story – at sharing the humanity of someone so proud and distant both in life and artistic rendition.

Tema faltered and the markings on their head tails blanched light blue.

“Oh, uh, my condolences.”

“Hmm?” Master Nu turned to them, “Oh no, he’s not dead. He’s retired.”

“Oh,”

They blinked, nonplussed.

“This way, dear”

The pair continued on their winding path. Master Nu, frequently gesturing to some architectural feature or other with her datapad, began to explain how the Jedi Archival system worked, pausing every now and then to pull a tome from the shelves.

“It is what many have described as ‘archaic’,” she said, stepping deftly onto the fourth rung of a sliding ladder attached to one of the shelves to reach her next target, “but no one—and I mean no one—has said it is an ineffective system.

“At least not in my earshot,” she said with a laugh, pulling the volume from its place and passing it down to Tema. The rumours the initiates (and fully-grown Knights) liked to spread about Master Nu’s draconian defence of the archives may not be entirely accurate but were taken by most as a warning to avoid slandering the archive in her presence. She knew Tholme liked to stir the pot and recount tales of her lightsabre prowess to the initiates, no matter that the stories were thirty years out-of-date.

“That being said, it can take some getting used to. The Padawans and Knight Archivists are always around and willing to retrieve sources for our visitors.”

Master Nu dismounted from the ladder, blew dust from her sleeve, and turned a critical eye on to the stack of books and datapads in Tema’s arms that had been steadily growing in size. The scholar looked strong enough to take a couple more, taking into account that their bulging bag would not fit anything more inside.

“That’s the last one from this aisle.”

She clicked her tongue and marked a check on her list next to the sources they were borrowing. They were all copies, of course, or volumes easily enough to source a replacement that their loss wouldn’t be abhorrent. Nonetheless, clean records made maintaining the collection less stressful on her soul.

On that note, Master Nu was pleased to feel that Tema was no longer pouring stress into the force like an anxious firehose. And—

She stilled, tilting her head as a familiar presence tickled the edges of her senses.

“Master Nu?” Tema asked, noticing her change in manner.

“Nothing to worry about,”

She once again took the lead. Down the aisle, then one aisle to the left and as they rounded the corner Master Nu smiled at the sight before her.

A little blue and beige figure was hunched over a book resting on the floor, absentmindedly gnawing on her Padawan silka beads and completely oblivious to the world around her.

“Padawan Secura! Why am I not surprised?” Master Nu called lightly and the twi’lek girl jerked, breaking from her literature-induced reverie to scramble to her feet.

“I’m not skipping sabre class again. I swear!”

Had it been any other Padawan of Aayla’s age group, Master Nu would think that emphatic declaration of innocence meant the Padawan in question was skipping class. Skywalker came to mind as a repeat offender of that variety.

Only question was that Junior Padawan sabre classes were always on Taungsday afternoons—this afternoon—and had been since before Master Nu was a crecheling. She hummed, unconvinced.

“Knight Kenobi is doing catch-up lessons this week and he said my forms were good enough to skip.”

That explained it. It seemed only yesterday that he’d been roaming the archives as a padawan himself, tearing through histories of the planets he’d visited at Qui-Gon’s side with single-minded focus. Shame that his lineage had picked him up before her own could. He would have made a fantastic archivist despite his record of being convinced to scale the bookshelves whenever Vos got temple fever.

Well, at least Aayla’s fencing education was in good hands.

Master Nu beamed at Aayla, “Then good work padawan and, as you are free, would you like to join us in gathering sources for Scholar Induri here?”

Aayla brightened, “Absolutely!”

And then, remembering her diplomacy training, bowed to Tema, setting her Padawan beads swinging. “Nice you meet you, Scholar.”

She scooped up the book she had been reading and as she put it back in its slot, Master Nu glimpsed the title.

“Reading Bastilla Shan again are we Padawan?”

The padawan blushed, fiddled with her tunic and handily dodged the teasing with a question of her own, “What are we looking for, Master?”

“See for yourself, young one,” Master Nu passed over the datapad, pointing to the highlighted entries.

Aayla squinted at the handwriting for a second before passing the pad back and running away down the aisle, one hand skimming the shelf labels. Padawans were lovely to have around and, watching Aayla slide 4 meters down a ladder and return to them with a grin plastered across her face, Master Nu wondered if she should take another student. Or, better yet, invite her former Padawans around for tea to see if more Grandpadawans would be joining the lineage soon.

“Thank you, dear,” she gave Aayla a pat on the head, “I’ll leave you to your reading. Just don’t forget to remind your Master that he needs to renew the materials he borrowed last month.”

Then, she turned to Tema who hadn’t made so much as a peep the past five minutes, seemingly satisfied to observe the interaction.

“Let’s get these checked out so you can get to reading them.”

Back to the main desk, the archivist and scholar wandered, and a minute later there was a new name entered into the borrowing database.

“Again, thank you for everything, Master Nu” Tema said, gathering the stack back into their arms. They were a little overwhelmed but they were smiling.

“Dear, it’s no trouble. One last thing, are you planning on enlisting someone practised in martial forms in your project? Or were you aiming for a more theoretical illustration of your findings?”

Tema cast their eyes to one side and shifted their weight.

“Ideally, yes, but I have no idea where to find someone like that so…theoretical?”

They trailed off.

“Good. I’m free to ask around here, then,” Master Nu said, tugging Tema’s bag strap so it was in less immediate danger of falling of their shoulder.

“If you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to send me a message or drop by. My archive is always open,”

At that, she tucked a slip of flimsy with her com code underneath the top datapad in the stack and gave Tema a parting pat on the cheek. With hope in their step, the scholar passed back out the archive doors, into the sunlight of the hall beyond.

Content, Master Nu smiled and watched them go.

“Now,” she mused to herself, opening the roster of temple-bound jedi and beginning to peruse the list, “who to ask…”

Her thoughts turned to the bronze bust of a man whose devotion to esoteric research was only outmatched by his skill with a blade.

His legacy…

Her eyes caught on a name. Yes, that would do very nicely indeed.

In the interest of vetting the source she intended to recommend, Master Nu made a mental note to attend next week’s exhibition tournament.

[startanewdream]

A Figment of Your Imagination

Summary:  After fighting with Lupin in Grimmauld Place, Harry wondered if his father would have approved what he had said to Lupin. Fortunately, James comes to give Remus his piece of mind. Set during Deathly Hallows.

Read on AO3 or below:

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There was a time Remus thought he’d always fear the night the most, especially a full moon night. That was in those dark years, when his friends were dead, and he believed the only one alive was a traitor.

Now, however, when he looks at the sunset, at all those vibrant colours in the horizon, he knows that this is the time of day he fears the most. That hurts the most.

Remus averts his eyes, waiting for the sun to finally set; he prefers the stars, the dark sky, when the colour is safe. He is not proud of himself, but he knows, as Harry’s voice still ringing in his ears doesn’t let him forget, he is a coward.

After a few minutes he looks up, but the sky has not changed. All those vibrant colours are still there, orange and pink and purple and blue and if he closes his eyes he can still remember that last day of their honeymoon, when he and Dora had spent their last peaceful moment together side by side on that cliff in Scotland, watching the sunset, and he thought everything was perfect in that moment. He can still remember the warmth of her body pressed against his, her scent, their happiness, and the way her hair kept changing colours to match the colours of the sky.

But Remus does not close his eyes, fear and shame and longing bursting in his chest. Still, as time passes, the sky does not change.

‘Weird, huh?’, asks a voice besides him and, when he turns, he is surprised to see Harry – shouldn’t he be on Grimmauld Place? It is dangerous for him to be out –

But it’s not really Harry, even though he sounds the same and most of the details are like a carbon-copy. No, the person besides him has hazel eyes, looks slightly older than seventeen-years-old Harry and has a carefreeness that Harry never had – the same one Remus always envied on him, always wanted to duplicate.

‘Ideal conditions for flying, wouldn’t you say?’, James says brightly, ignoring the fact that he has been dead for the last sixteen years.

‘James’, Remus says shortly, and James turns to him with the same easy smile he gave Remus all those years ago, when they first became friends.

‘Remus’, he says, in the same voice.

For a moment Remus pauses, trying to understand what’s happening. Then Remus looks from the sky, still unchanging, to the very corporeal James Potter, who waits with more patience than Remus remembers of him ever having when alive.

‘I am dreaming’, he realizes.

‘Or maybe the madness within is finally becoming apparent’, James suggests grinning.

‘No, I’ve been mad for a while. But you are not really – I mean –‘

‘I am just a figment of your imagination’, James says playfully.

‘I think this is the first time I’ve dreamed of you – of something that is not a memory, at least’.

‘And why is that, now?’

‘I don’t know’.

‘I think you do, Moony’, James says gently, and Remus remembers of him as Head Boy, when he was helping a younger student to find a path to the classroom, how he seemed so mature back then. ‘You were always the clever one’.

Remus disagrees. James and Sirius had been the brightest in their year, best in almost every class, loved by the professors. Remus only studied a lot, trying to prove to himself – and to everyone – that he could be a good student, that he could earn Dumbledore’s trust in him.

Remus had always worked in earning the trust and love people had given him, even though he always felt there was not enough work that he could do to repay the friends he had.

‘You never needed, you know’, James adds. ‘To prove yourself. We were glad to be your friend as much as we were glad that you were our friend. You were worthy, always has been’.

‘You sound like Harry’, Remus says, and now there is a Golden Snitch flying in the air, that James catches easily as his son could. ‘Or maybe he sounds like you’.

‘I think he sounds like Lily’, James ponders. ‘I wasn’t nearly as thoughtful as Harry is’.

‘You would be proud of him’.

‘Oh, I am’, James says, eyes glinting. ‘I think parents are always proud of their son, no matter what’.

It is like a hand suddenly gripes Remus’ heart and he lowers his eyes. They are finally approaching the reason he is dreaming of James Potter and he doesn’t know how to react. Harry’s words ring in his ear more forcefully than before.

‘Her child is better without me’, Remus whispers.

‘Yours’, James scolds him lightly. ‘I am pretty sure it was not an immaculate conception’.

Even through the shame, Remus can’t help but smile.

‘That was what Lily said’, he remembers. ‘When you told us she was having a child’.

‘“It’s our child, James, it wasn’t an immaculate conception”’, James quotes, and there is a warmth on his voice. ‘She liked to remind me of that when Harry was crying in the middle of the night. “It’s your fault too, James”, she would say, but I never really complained. I liked to watch him sleep. It was peaceful’. James pauses, and Remus feels his eyes on him, but he doesn’t turn. ‘Even with everything that happened, I was happy’.

‘No’, Remus interrupts him. ‘It is not the same, our situations are –‘

‘My son was hunted even before he was born’, James countered.

‘But that was not your fault, was it?’

James sighs.

‘I don’t know. When we were locked on Godric’s Hollow, when everything was just too much, I’d thought that maybe I should’ve done things differently. Maybe I should not have fought so hard in the war, not join the Order, not married Lily’.

Remus blinks and turns around to look at James. There is a sad expression on his face that Remus has seen only on a few occasions.

‘No. That would not be you. You were too much honourable and brave –‘

‘I was reckless’, James notes. ‘I admired your self-control sometimes, you know? You were the only one of us that could really think before you did anything’.

‘I admired how you could jump in front of any danger’, Remus says bewilderedly. ‘I was always trying to be just like you and Sirius’.

‘You never needed to be like us. We may have influenced you a bit, give you the final push, but you were brave and bold too’.

‘My worst decisions were of when I was careless’, Remus whispers. ‘Letting you become animagus, not explaining my missions for the Order – that’s why you lost your faith in me, wasn’t it? -, and now, what I’ve done with –‘

‘You should have told us about your missions’, James says, interrupting him. ‘But other than that, every time you let your heart decide, more than any fear, you were happy’.

‘It was dangerous –‘

‘Life is dangerous. But living is the only way we can reach happiness also’. James takes a deep breath and looks at Remus with an expression that is the same as the one Harry had in their last meeting. Disappointment. ‘What are you doing, Remus?’

‘The only thing I can do’, Remus whispers. ‘I am only a risk for them –‘

‘You are at war, everything is unsafe.

‘You cannot understand –‘

‘Can’t I?’, James looks annoyed. ‘Lily was muggleborn, should have I kept her away from Harry?’

‘No, of course not –‘

‘Or maybe I should have joined the Death Eaters?’

‘No, that’s not what –‘

‘All those things would not have helped. The only thing I’d have achieved was giving Harry a reason to be ashamed of me’. James pauses and looks at the Golden Snitch in his hand. ‘I wasn’t a perfect man, but I tried to become the best man I could be. The man who my friends, my wife, my parents, thought I could be. If things were differently, if we had – I mean, I don’t know if I would have been a good father to Harry, but you can be damn sure he would have known he was loved every day’.

‘Harry knows. Your love for him is his Patronus, did you know?’

James smiles for a moment, then sighs.

‘And why are you forbidding your son of knowing this kind of feeling? Doesn’t he deserve your love?’

Remus raises his eyebrows, suddenly angry.

‘Of course he deserves to be loved. That’s why I am –‘

‘That’s why you are leaving your pregnant wife to her own? To bear your child and raise him on her own?’

‘I am thinking in the best for her – for them –‘.

‘No, you are thinking about yourself’, James says quietly. ‘In your guilt – and the worst part is that you feel guilty of being happy, you are scared of feeling loved’. When Remus tries to disagree, James shakes his head. ‘ “Happier than you have been all your life”, that’s how you felt when you found out she was in love with you, wasn’t it?’

‘How do you –‘

James pointed to himself.

‘Figment of your imagination, remember? I know what you know, and I know that you love Tonks.  I know that you were happy with us, Remus, but it was not the same as when you were with Tonks. I understand it. Being a Marauder, our nights of full moon, your friendship, all of this meant the world for me. But my love for Lily, my feelings for her, for the family we were creating – it is different’. He looks over the horizon. ‘I know that you can’t see the sunset ever since you left her because it makes you miss her so much that you don’t think you will survive not going back to her and plead for her to accept you back’.

‘She won’t’, Remus says unhappily. ‘She told me if I left her, I should not get back’.

‘I am not saying it will be easy’, James ponders. ‘But then again, when is life easy?’

‘She doesn’t want me anymore’.

‘I’m not in her mind, so I don’t know what she feels, but this is what I do know: that woman is one of the bravest person I’ve ever seen and she is generous and good and I really believe she loves you truly. But you broke her trust and that’s what you will need to repair, if you decide to. But if things doesn’t turn this way… She would not let you out of the life of your child, but you must decide, Remus. Whether you are in, or you are out, you can’t be in doubt forever’.

‘I –‘, Remus falters, but he knows what he’s been feeling for the last days. ‘I want so much to be in their lives that I – it is so selfish – but I love them, James, I really do. I’ve been in love with Dora for so long now that it feels like I’ve loved her all my life; I don’t remember how it was not being in love with her, not listening to her laugh, not feeling like her smile can lit up any room. And our child – it makes me terrified – how can I love so much someone I’ve never met before –‘

‘It is because you are his father’, James says gently. ‘But your child will never know he is loved by you unless you are there for him, for as long as you can. Dora won’t know also unless you are there to tell her, every day of your life’.

And then James looks at the horizon, giving time for Remus to take a deep breath and to dry his eyes.

‘When did you become so smart?’, he asks, with a brave smile. James laughs.

‘I told you, I am just in your mind. That means you already know all these things I’m telling you’.

‘Some of it was Harry’s advice’.

‘Harry knows how is like to grow up missing your father’. James sighs. ‘He is anxious for arguing with you, you know. Worried if I would approve what he said to you’.

‘He was harsh’, Remus says. ‘But he was right’.

‘Tell him that when you can. And if you remember when you wake up – tell Harry I agree with him. Parents shouldn’t leave their kids unless they have to’.

Remus nods.

‘He is the best parts of you and Lily’.

‘He is’, James agrees brightly. ‘Same as Teddy will be of you and Tonks’.

‘Teddy?’

‘Ops’, James looks guilty and rises, just as the sky suddenly changes colours. ‘Our time is up. I think you will be waking up in a few minutes’.

‘Oh’, Remus feels the sadness creeping over him, the same longing he felt on the last sixteen years when he thinks of James Potter. ‘Thank you, Prongs’,

‘Anytime, Moony. It is nice to be the one giving you sense for once’.

Remus smiles, remembering of being accused, a lifetime ago, of being the only reasonable person in their group. As the sun sets, and James starts fading with the light, a thought comes to Remus’ mind suddenly.

‘James – you told me how Harry is feeling. If you are in my mind, just a figment of my imagination, how can you know –‘

The grin in James’ face is the same one he had during their pranks in school, the same one he gave Remus when he first informed him they would become animagus for him.

‘A Marauder never tells, Moony’.

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If you enjoyed it, I have also another story set in this “Dreamverse” called Chasing Dreams, featuring James and Ginny having a father/daughter-in-law moment :)