#instead of immediately forgetting the next day and letting it rot in the void

[rinavatrix]

Andrew doodle from when i was forcing myself to use procreate

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷ chapter twenty seven: happiness looks good on you

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Life in California was in no way close to what you have visualized it to be. Three months ago, or maybe even more, you imagined yourself wandering all around the town you currently live in, making new friends, gossiping with them, and relishing a fresh environment as you pursue your dreams. Yet, here you were, sitting idly on the couch, eyes staring off into an empty space by the corner of the living room of your apartment complex, head gradually feeling like it was about to split in half with where your mind tries to take you. Much to your dismay, you’re only met by a dark and endless abyss.

“YN, I’m going out to buy some groceries. Wanna come?” Your mom appears from the kitchen but does not look at you, instead rummaging in her bag for something. She lets out a sound of success upon finding the car keys, finally taking notice of the silence despite her question. She takes a look at your unbothered figure, sighing when she realizes what you were doing again, “YN. I told you already, there’s a reason why the system works that way.”

With that statement, she finally gets your attention, sadly smiling when you look at her with somewhat emotionless eyes.

“You know him but why won’t you tell me about him? I just… I just want to ask him why, you know?”

It wasn’t supposed to bother you anymore, at least that’s what the soulmate system stated with regards to cutting and forgetting your fated one. For some reason, however, you find yourself often getting lost in your thoughts, hoping to fill the void and the many holes in your memory, even just by a little bit.

Unfortunately for you, your mother remains firm with her resolve, “And we just don’t want you to get hurt anymore. Your dad, me and of course, Kiyoomi. You have no idea how much it hurt to see you cry so much that day and it’s frustrating how we can’t even do anything about it.”

Though you do not feel any kind of unbearable pain whenever that happens, it still doesn’t prevent the curiosity that sparks within you— especially when you see the cut black thread tied on your pinky finger. You lift your hand up and stare at it, I just need a clue, just one clue please, you thought for the umpteenth time. At this point, begging and whispering to your thread like a madman seems like a routine and as you close your eyes, only a flash of light and a much more painful headache answers your prayers. You wince slightly, opening your mouth to reply to her but the doorbell ringing beats you to it.

Your mom furrows her brows in confusion as she did not expect anyone to visit today. Nevertheless, she proceeds towards the front door and opens it. Too occupied to try and find out who it was, you remain seated on the couch until you heard your mom call your name.

You groan and begrudgingly walk to them, “Mom, I’m not really in the mood to mee—”

Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. There stood Iwaizumi with a sheepish look on his face as he waves his hand.

“Haji!”

With a fluttering heart and teary eyes (due to happiness), you run towards him and jump in his arms, definitely catching him off guard, judging by the way his face immediately became deep red. Only your mom takes notice of this though so she giggles quietly. Not wanting to ruin the sweet moment between you, she quietly passes through the door and finally goes to do her agenda of the day.

Still engulfed in a hug, Iwaizumi tightens his hold on you, burying his face in your neck as he lifts you lightly by your waist, “Geez, you missed me this much, huh?”

You mumble a quiet ‘yes,’ unwilling to let him go. But you figure your neighbors wouldn’t really appreciate the teeth-rotting display of affection, so you do, much to Iwa’s dismay as well. Still, your hand found its way to his and laced them together as you invited (or maybe pulled) him excitedly inside. You usher him to sit on the couch while you prepare some snacks.

“What brought you here?” You ask while scanning the cupboards for any chips or biscuits, grunting a few curses here and there when you find none. You mentally slap yourself when you remember that’s the very reason why your mom went to the supermarket. You step into the living room once more, his wistful gaze on you as you did so.

“Hmm… I just missed you too, I guess?” He smirks upon noticing how your body went stiff and how flustered you look. His smirk soon turns to light chuckles when you cower in shyness.

“Stop it, you flirt!”

He pulls you beside him and stares deep into your eyes, “I’m just telling the truth though?”

If it was even still possible, your heart rate spikes up once more and you push him away, fanning yourself as your face becomes even hotter, “I said stop! Gosh, since when did you become so - ugh!”

You stand up, “You know what, we don’t have anything here so let’s go on a cafe or something!”

Anywhere but here so that you’d feel embarrassed to flirt with me, is what you thought but opted to not say out loud. You stomp towards the front door, pushing it open while muttering halfhearted curses for your companion, who only laughs devilishly at your figure.

Ah, you’re too cute, YN. If you keep that up, I wouldn’t want to let go of you, he thought.

marga's notes. if my man ain't gonna be iwa then i'd rather stay single for the rest of my life, i said what i said.

[octania]

Midnight hunter ( Dabi x Reader 18+)

This is the second chapter of Midnight stalker.

Short description: Prepare yourself for a human hunt where your fiery hunter will not stop until he gets you.

Word count: 4.8 K

Warnings: Smut, yandere, human hunt, violence, death (not Dabis nor readers), mentions of noncon (nothing much, just a mention in a dialog),NSFW. _______________________________________________________

He forced his compass to point in any direction except hers. He went to places that were too much even for his hardened soul. He drank the sweetness of a woman's body without limits, getting drunk under the touch of cheap prostitutes as much as he could. But instead of asking the paid lady of the night for sexual consolation, he greedily tried to recreate the moment he stole from you.

I didn't fucking steal nothing, it’s mine. You are mine.

The last truth of his thoughts was pierced with the spear of condemnation. In those moments when the Pandora's box wanted to send the truth to the surface of his soul, in those moments he was the most dangerous. He turned into a raging beast that could destroy anything in front of them. Unfortunately, several prostitutes were harmed because of his struggles. After hearing the words of truth in his head, the reaction of the body came immediately afterwards. His palms bathed in a blue flame, burning the skin of the unfortunate woman's face, who had been trying to meet his needs until then. A tense kiss, thirstily absorbing the erotic dance of her tongue, squeezing her eyelids like yours, the only thing he had differently was that he ordered the prostitutes to sit on his lap. To put their legs around him as he held them by the waist and pressed them to his chest. He had to take his imagination to the next level, give it the illusion of consent. He wanted to imagine how you kissed him willingly, how you needed his lips desperately, how you needed to feed on his presence how he fed on yours. And after that he was poisoned. He left the room, leaving the painful screams of those he had inadvertently damaged with his flames behind him.

Dabi hated the smell of smoke. Ironically for someone who is almost always surrounded by that scent, but something in him aroused disgust at that smell. Especially the smell of burning skin. It reminded him of the misfortune that had befallen him, aroused in him things that were to blame for the person he was today. He knew the horrors of that scent, how severe and vicious its punishment was. Those who are punished in this way never forget it. He ran his fingers over his chin, rubbing his damaged skin. The wound may have healed, but the scar will remain forever. He didn't need a new scar. Especially not the kind that never heals, it only seemingly retreats, settles into the dark place of the human subconscious and lurks its weakest moment.

 "Tsc ... I should have finished you ..." he threw a glass of whiskey into the wall of the room. The glass shattered into thousands of pieces, while the liquid left a large stain on the white wall. The moment he pressed his lips to yours, his Pandora's box shattered in the same way, leaving feelings in his chest. He thought that by kissing you he would silence his desires and satisfy his obsessions, but he only deepened them. Hell, now he's trying to patch up the damage with others, how pathetic it can be. He clenched his fists as a blue flame wrapped around them. Dabi could not suffer humiliation, he could not let it go unpunished. He made a mistake, but now it is about time to fix it. He got out of bed just as he got up the first night he contracted this plague, pulled his black T-shirt over his taut shoulders, and headed for the exit.

It has been almost two months since the unfortunate event. Your quiet life turned into a nightmare in one night and you had no idea why. After tasting the lips of a dangerous stranger and daring to turn around even though he ordered you not to, you didn’t think the gates of hell would open shortly after. The pair of blue eyes in which the storm was pouring belonged to a very famous villain, a person you had only seen on the news, newspapers or arrest warrants until then. You never thought you would see him in front of your eyes, let alone taste him with your mouth. There was a void in your head, a war drum in your chest. Nothing that happened that night seemed real. You played that scene back in your head again and again so many times, but you still could hardly believe yourself. Impossible, it wasn't him. It was him. It was just him and no one else could sit in his place. Anyone normal would be imbued with panic and fear, running away without thinking after catching a glimmer of freedom after that attack, but not you. You stood frozen under the street lamp, staring into the corner where he had disappeared. You don’t even know how you got home after that, it all seemed like a crazy dream. Until the next morning, when everything became more than real. Two police cars were in front of your house at dawn. In addition to the two detectives, there were four police officers and they were accompanied by two heroes. Before you could speak, one of the two detectives pulled a photo out of his pocket. Your friend. You could feel the tingles of horror travel through your body. Fear permeated you before you even heard what had happened.

Your hands were shaking as you held the second photo the detectives gave you. You sat in your living room in your favorite armchair, which this time could not provide you with comfort. You stared at the image of a burning corpse, whose face, despite the disgusting wounds, showed an expression of pure horror and agony. You were the last person he was with, the last contact, so the cops and heroes rushed to your doorstep, not even knowing you had an encounter with the man who was guilty of murdering this young man. At first, you didn’t want to tell the truth. You lied, you kept quiet about the way you actually met. But the quirk of one of the heroes has distracted you from your lie. His quirk was a living lie detector and he read you like an open book. After the truth came out, there was silence. Initially, no one could explain the event you went through, but it didn’t take them long to come to their professional conclusion. He must have wanted to enjoy his morbid act, to leave someone close to suffer for the victim. A few moments later they explained to you how things would develop further, you would be placed under protection. Two heroes and three policemen will be constantly on duty in front of your home, in case the villain returns to finish what he started. You knew they were secretly hoping so, that this was a trap, and you were a living bait.

The days passed, weeks followed, but no trace of the villain. After the first month had passed, two police officers and one hero remained, now, after two months, only one hero remained. No matter how they eliminated the surplus people, caution still had to be on a high level. Because of that, you could not carelessly go where you wanted, just perform your duties, and even then you would be accompanied by a hero. You hated this situation, you could no longer be a prisoner in your own home, you had to stretch your legs somewhere more than just walking to the store. You walked resolutely from your room to the living room where the hero was on duty. He looked at you lazily, and you already had a pleading expression on your face.

 "I want to take a walk, I can't be locked up anymore." you protested, but still in a polite tone. He didn't scold you or acted rudely. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"I know, I'm sorry ... but I still think it would be better not to go out on the streets, especially not at this time of night." - He gazed at your furry friend who in these two months has grown almost twice the original size when you found him.

 "We don't even have to go to the streets! Not far from here is a forest, we can go there! Please, I'm really not able to spend my days like this anymore, and the forest road is in one of the safest neighborhoods and you know it yourself! ”- you were persistent, determined, you knew that he was soft and that he would give in with a good enough reason. You could see how your words were valid. You knew he couldn't sit on your living room couch anymore, he'd been doing it for the last two months, and you could only imagine how tiring it was to do it to a person who had dedicated his life to action, to fighting villains.

"I'm not sure ..." you interrupted him before he could finish.

"Please! A short walk and nothing more! Not even the dog can jump just around the yard anymore! ”- the hero looked down at the playful puppy and you knew that was the last thing he needed to break. The little furry creature waved its tail, caressing his leg.

"Okay, but not for long and nowhere far. " he said, getting up from the couch.

Come, step into the night doll.

You made a mistake, you made a big mistake. You dared to tell , you dared to make a victim of yourself and seek protection from them. Why? Why doll? The only victim here is him, all of this is your fault, it's your fault because he's here. You did this, and he let you live for a small fee, just one kiss. Instead of feeling privileged and blessed for being let off the hook so cheaply and enjoying your last moments after you poisoned him, you dared to call on the greatest scum of this world to protect you.

 Do you like the taste doll? Do you like the taste of the rotten flesh? You do… don't you? Because you took a bite of my heart, and that is shit is rotten to the core. Feast  on that rot while you can and I hope you like burnt meat as much as rotten because you will soon be surrounded by it.

 He clenched his jaw as he followed your shadows as you imperceptibly tried to sneak up to the car. You chose the wrong evening for a walk. Was the taste of his lips so repulsive to you? The more he thought about it, the stronger the killer instinct was. Even though he came here with the intent to kill you, he felt betrayed. He retreated back into the shadows and hurried down to the previous street  where he saw a parked motorbike. He was skilled at picking locks, and hot-wiring a vehicle was no different. He also had a good  taste, his eye could not miss the kawasaki ninja ZZR 1400, a beautiful assembly of metal and engine. He ran his hands over the leather seat before sitting on it and held the balance of the heavy black beast with ease. It fused with him in a second, as the engine purred as it started. As expected, your car passed in front of him. He saw your happy face under the nightlights in the passenger seat. You won't be smiling for long.

He was cautious and went unnoticed. He followed you with no problem, even a little bit impressively. When he saw the car lights turn from the marked road  to a muddy path between the tall trunks of the forest, he couldn't help but smile sinisterly. He left the motorbike at the very beginning of the forest, covered between dense bushes. His step was lighter than that of a cat. He didn’t break a single twig, make a single sound that would reveal he was there. The two electric blue eyes gleamed like wild beasts in the moonlight. He saw you, he heard you, he could smell you. He licked his lips to recall your taste. Your lips looked delicious even in the dark. You looked almost unreal under the auspices of the stars and the shining moon, with your spirits lifted by the fact you were surrounded by nature once again. How your hair fluttered in the warm night breeze as thin strands fell across your forehead. He saw the scene in slow motion. For a moment the anger disappeared from his face, he allowed himself to watch you calmly. Calmly until the venom of pain and loneliness flowed through his veins again, the only things he could feel except wrath. That was exactly the reason why you were a thorn in his eye. You aroused pain and a feeling of loneliness. He needed you, he needed your touch, he needed your voice in his ear, your breath on his face, your fingers on his skin. Could you see him as anything but a villain? Would the same kindness shine in your eyes and would you extend your hand with the same measure of tenderness when you were rescuing an abandoned puppy from that dark street? Would you recognize what he really is, and he doesn't even see it in himself anymore ... He had to know.

You happily threw a stick to your puppy playing fetch, running along with him. You excitedly followed the dance of fireflies among the tall grass along the path. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath with a desire to absorb as much of this forest air and its scent as possible.

"See? I told you it is beautiful and it certainly beats being locked up. ”- you said without opening your eyes. You were sure that the hero was enjoying this night out too. Even as you drove in the car you saw the relief on his face when he realized he could finally escape from your house.

"And that there is no one else here." you added, taking another breath. Instead of the smell of trees, the sour smell filled your nostrils. This smells like ..

"Oh..but there is." - the voice that answered did not belong to the hero who brought you here. That voice ... Blood froze in your veins and your eyes suddenly opened in panic as you turned at lightning speed. A grayish cloud between the suppressed trees and the tall grass. Like fog, the smoke remained in the air like a floating ball. You covered your mouth with your hands as it approached your nostrils. You thought you were going to throw up. This was the smell ... the smell of burning flesh. You could barely contain a scream in your throat when you saw a person stepping out from behind a tree, dragging something behind him.

"You ..." - you stammered when you saw the person who was to blame for your accident. The person you had on your lips just two months ago, the same night after he set your friend on fire.

"Tch, tch ... you can recognize me only because you disobeyed me and gazed at me when I told you not to ... naughty doll." - he said, throwing a burnt corpse in front of you. You screamed when you saw the same horror on its face that you saw in the pictures of your dead friend, but this was now the man who pleased you and took you here at your request. He's dead now. You instinctively took a few steps back as your knees were shaking.

“Was it worth it, huh? Disobeying me? Do you see what happens when someone stands in my way, doll? ”-he asked, rubbing the fingers of his left hand. The blue flame rose from his palm to his forearm, over his muscular shoulder to his neck, until he stroked his cheeks as well. You couldn't take it anymore, you started running. You made your way through the thick bushes and tall grass. The roots of the trees tangled under your feet as you tried to escape. You saw almost nothing in front of you except darkness, and your useless calls for help disappeared into the emptiness of the woods. You pushed the branches in front of you that were coming back and smashing into your body. You could feel the warm feeling that was pouring down your legs ... blood. Warm blood dripping from the scratches. None of that slowed you down. You kept running at the same speed. You thought you managed to lose him, you didn't hear anything behind you, but you didn't dare to stop. You continued deeper into the woods where there seemed to be no end.

 The blue light flashed before your eyes so intensely that it hurt. You covered your eyes with your hand, squinting in front of you. The heat made you back off and you succeeded at the last minute. The blue fire is blocking your path. Your eyes filled with tears when you realized what was happening. He's chasing you. He chases you like a beast, and he's a hunter trying to trap you. You turned and ran in the other direction. The road started going uphill. You could feel pain in your legs from the frantic climb, but it never occurred to you to give up. Even when a new wall of fire was created in front of you, you didn’t give up. You turned again, looking for any path where there was no fire. Your lungs were burning from the rapid breathing and the smell of smoke spreading through the air. The new burst of fire was too fast, it managed to reach your lower leg. You sobbed, quickly putting out the fire on your jeans. Your tears flowed harder from the pain of  burning your skin, but you knew you had to keep going. If you give up now, you will not be able to save yourself. Like the promised land, the sight in front of you almost brought a smile to your face. The crystal surface of the lake glazed under the moonlight. The water ... you forgot the pain in a second, leaning on your feet and running with all your might towards the lake. You jumped into the water without thinking. The cold flooded your body, and a sharp pain crossed your injured leg. It was quite shallow. When you surfaced, you realized that the water barely reached your chest. You looked around. The forest burned, and the blue fire cast its light high toward the dark clouds of night.

 "Smart..but it will not help you." - Dabi went through the raging fire as if it were air, reaching the water's edge. His expression was nauseating. When he watched you run, he felt a rush of adrenaline, pleasure, superiority ... feelings that he knew and gladly let them circulate through his body as he caught his prey. Human hunt, and God help those who are cursed with him as their hunter. That is a lie ... even God can't help you then. He thought it was the end, that he had finally found a solution and his salvation. Until now ... until you looked him in the eye again. The eyes that carried goodness, when he first saw you wake up and you didn't know he was there, they carried innocence ... and now ... he had to make sure what did you hid behind those mirrors of the soul before that same soul leaves your body. He stepped into the water, going all the way in till it reached his groin, getting closer to you. He touched the surface of the water with his fingers, and it obediently received his fire on its surface. It surrounded you, trapped you inside the burning circle.

"W..why .." - you stammered the most obvious question. He thought he was numb to that pointless question by now. It always sounded the same. But your voice ... your voice addressed to him now, directly to him. He paused for a moment, feeling what he had feared so much spring up in his chest. He must not waste time, he must not think too much. He was two steps ahead of you, grabbing you by the jaw.

"Oh, but why not?" -he responded, looking at your lips until then. He crossed over your lip with the tip of his index finger. He tried with all his might to make himself remember the longing, the basic need he had met so many times without difficulty. He tried to escape from the claws of feelings that were now awakening. Turns out your closeness is more fatal than he thought. Something in him pulled him closer, asking him to surrender. He didn't know what that hurricane in him was, and he reacted, as always, angrily. Why..you want to know why..I am the one here that needs to know why ..

“Why not doll? What, I am not good enough to be saved? I thought you liked picking up fucked up things on the street and mending them? So, why do you run from me then? ”- something in him broke. The rejection and fear he had not felt since he was young now took the throne over his feelings. He savagely entered your face, finally catching your eye.He didn't want to see it. He did not want to see the answer to his question, especially not in this vulnerable state. It may not have been visible through its exterior, but it was worse on the inside. In the eyes he had dreamed so much about, the eyes that radiated concern and kindness ... now only pure fear and horror poured out from them.

„Why am I not worth saving ?! Answer me! Because I am a monster!? I killed your so called, friend !? A guy who wanted to fuck you dry just so he can tell his homeboys about it ?! - he roared. What you didn’t know was that before he killed your friend and exposed him to the greatest torment, while he was still following him, he heard a conversation your friend was having over the phone.

"No, the stupid bitch didn't put out yet..yeah, I know..But that ass man. I swear if she doesn't lift that skirt next time, I will take it off myself. ”- those were the words of your so-called friend. With that, he signed his death sentence. Dabi made him pay for the crimes he intended to commit, and you had no idea. Even now you don't quite understand what he's talking about.

„You don't like murderers, only scumbags ?! They are worthy of your attention ?! Ok then, bet you will love this. ”- with one hand he grabbed the wet shirt on your chest, giving the order to his flame which ate the material in one second. Your upper body was now covered only by a bra that was intact, but not for long. Dabis finger slipped under the  thread between your breasts, the thread that connected the front of the bra cups. It tightened enough that it almost broke, making your breasts almost completely visible.

“No, please! Don't! ”- you tried to push him away with your hand, but he grabbed your wrist. He gritted his teeth angrily, looking back at you. Of course he won't do that to you, he may be a villain but he's not a monster, he's not a rapist. He let go of your bra, clenching his fist. You saw that something in him broke, you saw that the person you thought was to blame for your accident was not really the person they described him to be. This is someone who has the thorns of his exterior here for a deeper reason than pure malice.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. The person who trapped you was now alone pressed under the heavy weight of no one else but number two hero, Endeavor. He squeezed his body below the surface of the water, not giving him a chance to get air.

“You filthy scum! You thought killing heroes will go unpunished?! - Endeavor roared as he pushed Dabi deeper under the water. The thing was, Dabis flames made quite a fire, and the woods was now eaten by it, making a giant cloud of smoke. The same smoke that was seen by the locals and they called in the heroes and the police. Unfortunately, the first that spotted you two was no other then the ruthless hero Endeavor, who planned to show no mercy to the villain who killed a hero. He didn't know who the villain he kept underwater was, but he didn't care, he'd be dead in the matter of seconds.Dabi didn't fight back. All the water that was stirred was like that because of how Endeavor was pushing  Dabis body even deeper under the water. A man who had shown unbridled strength only a moment ago, now surrendered to a fatal fate. For a moment, you could make out his expression. An expression of loneliness, an expression of pain ... an expression of relief, as if this is the only thing that can save him from the horror he keeps in himself. This is not a monster.

You raised your hands toward Endeavor, releasing your quirk. It wasn't even a few seconds before the number two hero replaced the expression of anger  with astonishment and then fear. He waved frantically around, throwing his flame into the empty space. There was nothing around him, but you knew what he saw. The reason you loved the dark side so much, is because it has always been a part of you, and your quirk was one of the proofs of that. You could read man’s greatest fears, their worst nightmares, and manifest that horror in front of them. Now your power was bending number two hero like a fragile twig, forcing him to drop Dabi.He surfaced quickly, catching air, filling his lungs. He coughed out the water as he slowly opened his eyes. You. He saw you looking at him.

No ... that's not possible. Your gaze was direct but gentle now. Penetrating and compassionate ... and pointed at him. He turned and saw Endeavor still panicking trying to defend himself against something that wasn't there, and it didn't take him long to realize what had happened and what you were doing. You defended him. You saw something in him that was worth saving.

"Go, now." you said in a firm but sympathetic voice.

"Name." - he said without moving out of the water or interrupting your gaze. He couldn't turn away from the feeling you aroused in him, and he didn't want to.

„N..no..Please, just go, now! I can't hold him much longer and the others are coming! Go now, God dammit! ”- you said more briskly, more commandingly, but Dabi just knelt at the bottom of the lake, touching the water with his chin, showing you that if you don't tell him your name, your defense was in vain, and his destiny will not change, Endeavor will soon get rid of your illusion and finish the job he started, and Dabi will not fight back. The thought of the so-called number two hero taking his life again by pushing him underwater caused you to fear, a fear that was not the same as before. This fear bordered more with anxiety and the need to defend him.

"Tell me your name." he whispered, this time softly, in a deep voice, his eyes half closed. You bit your lip. You knew that after tonight, nothing would be the same anymore and these two clear blue eyes would emerge from the darkness again in search of you, but something about it woke up the part of you that you had been hiding for so long and needed immensely.

"(Y / N). My name is (Y / N). ”- a satisfied smile on Dabis face was the last thing you saw, before the blue fire flashed and blinded all prying eyes. When it disappeared, he was gone, and  heroes were around you, helping you to your feet.

[mimssides]

Never Met You

Chapter 5: Defence

To protect those who they love is an act of strength and kindness. To protect they need rest themselves. They shall rest.

It was late and the palace was asleep. The rose maze was peacefully quiet and the moonlight bathed the world in a silver shimmer. It was beautiful.

And lonely.

Roman could not help himself. He had known Janus for so many years who loved and adored him. He had Virgil by his side who kept him sane and safe. He had Logan who had put up with all the unreasonable decision he had ever made.

And yet, as Roman sat down in the middle of the maze beneath the rose arch on the bench, he felt void. He had for all his life felt a certain longing for something that was not there. It had become worse in the last few weeks, especially since Janus had been mostly preoccupied with meetings and aiding Logan with his duties. He knew something was off and he was glad when they finally approached him and asked if he could go to Sictes to get some allies.

He would get going tomorrow, and while he didn’t like to leave Janus back, he knew it was the most reasonable thing he could do right now. It also was easier for him to not be in the castle. It made the void hurt less in a way.

Stillness.

Roman’s heart began to race. He jumped on his feet, feeling the tip of cold metal barely scratching the middle of his back. Twirling around, drawing his sword, which was sharp despite Janus’s protests, and facing a figure in black, face hidden behind a black mask.

An ambush.

The ambusher stormed at him but Roman dodged and evaluated his situation quickly. There were more people coming, he could hear the scurrying around now that he was listening for it. His chances could be worse. He knew the maze like no other, better than the gardeners even, and they were not aware that he was able to hold himself in a fight.

Dodging. Duck. Go for the legs and shove to the bushes. One distracted, a second and third one came from the opening to his left and one had jumped over the bushes in front of him. They were trying to corner him.

They would not succeed, Roman decided. With a grunt he manoeuvred himself towards the one on the left, went for his wrist and made him drop his sword. Next, he focused on the one in the front and-

He barely managed to pull away as the first ambusher grabbed him by the arm. Roman panted. No, he wasn’t exhausted yet. But they have been cornering him and he did not know how to get out of this situation anymore.

He couldn’t go like this. He couldn’t lose like this.

“HeeEEllooOOO!”

The squeaky maddening scream had the ambushers turn around. Roman used his chance and fled to the side as someone barrelled into the one in the middle and threw them right into the thorns. Without thinking Roman turned to the closest ambusher and began to duel them.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw the third one approach him from behind, calculating already how he could fight that one off.

“I’ve got your back! Worry about what’s in front of you, Romy!”

There was something in Roman’s chest. It was warm and loud and wild. It made him grin and go for his attacker, made him move quick and nimble, made him light as a feather and made it almost playfully easy for him to fight them off, as he cut them into their right shoulder.

They whistled. At once the two others moved away. Roman was about to follow them, but he stopped as a hand was put on his right shoulder and held him back. And just then the three ambushers were gone in the shadows.

The night was quiet again. As if nothing had happened. Roman could be dead now and no one would know until the gardeners would find him. Janus and Virgil would not find him, would only see the dried blood beneath his form, his lifeless corpse rotting amongst the grass and thorns.

“It is okay. We are okay, Roman. Breathe. Slow and steady. Slow and steady does it.”

In front of Roman was Green, standing in the faint moonlight. He had stepped in front of him, had put his other hand on his left shoulder and was asking him to calm down. And Roman did calm down. He had to. He had to quiet down and get out of the maze. They were still out in the open and needed to get away.

But first he had to focus on calming down. It would be fine. Never in his life Roman had found himself calming down so quickly but he was not going to question it and nodded at Green who waited for him to give him the green light to proceed. The two hastily went back to the castle.

When they were barely in sight of the guards, Green already called for them. Ordered them to immediately search the castle walls, the gates and passage ways to the door. No one was to go alone and they needed to search the rose maze this instance. They were about to dismiss his orders when they spotted Roman behind him. They froze on the spot and Roman told them to follow his orders.

The castle awoke. Roman and Green went inside, immediately heading towards the backroom in the servant wing. Roman had never told Green that they should go there but Green found the way nevertheless. On their way Roman requested the guards to wake the king and tell Janus and Virgil to “retreat”. They would know where to look for them.

Meanwhile, Roman and Green slipped by the guards and servants eyes, along the shadows and hallways rarely someone used. Roman knew them by heart. He had explored them when he was younger and studied every corner after the day it had happened. He needed to know where he could hide in a dangerous situation and after all those years the fear and terror had kept him from forgetting a single detail.

The backroom was in the last corner of the castle, a dead end where no one went when they were trying to escape or hide themselves in. And still, Roman had chosen this room to be his safe haven. There was security in an unlikely hiding spot and he sat down on a wooden chair as Green positioned himself next to the door. He was looking over to him and scanning the room all while listening at the door for whoever was to come in. They were quiet and waited.

Roman wasn’t quite sure when it happened but after some time, he had begun to analyse the intruders’ behaviour. He thought about how they entered the premises, how they fought and how they had focused on him. The conclusion he got to did not sit well with him and he was glad when he could change his focus on the door as he heard someone approach from the outside.

He knew the steps and before he could say it Green opened the door and let in Janus followed by Logan and Virgil. The king had still a rather sleepy look in his eyes and was wearing a nightgown but tensed immediately as he saw Roman sitting on the chest. Worriedly, he looked over to Green, hands pressed over his chest and motioned Virgil to close the door.

“There was an ambush.”

The terror on Janus’s face was indescribable. Without thinking he rushed over to Roman’s side, kneeled down in front of him and cupped his face between his hands.

“How? When? Why were you not in your room?”

Virgil’s voice was booming despite his low volume. Roman straightened up and softly pushed Janus’s hands out of his face. He then pulled Janus to sit next to him, while putting his arm around his shoulders.

“I could not sleep,” Roman explained and observed with one eye, how Green led Logan to sit on another box as the king trembled under the stressful revelation. “I did not mean to alarm you and went outside to catch some fresh air. They came for me in the rose maze. Green came and fought them off. It cannot be longer than half an hour ago.”

“You are not allowed to simply leave your room without informing us! Not in times like these!” Virgil hissed towards the prince.

“I can be killed in my own room just as easily as in this rose maze, Virgil. It makes no difference, if they want, they will find me anywhere.”

Virgil’s face froze and Janus gripped Roman’s arm, exclaiming loudly: “Roman!”

“This changes nothing. I will go tomorrow. We need the backup. Now more than ever.”

“You are most certainly not leaving! We haven’t even found out who did this yet! It might as well be someone from Sictes who allied with George to find you! I will not send you into your death.”

Janus had tears in his eyes as he begged for Roman to stay. He begged for his friend to be reasonable and approachable, to not fall back into habits that could have him hurt or even killed. And Roman just looked at him with those determined eyes and this heavy look. This look that made it clear that he would not just stop.

“This was not someone from Sictes,” Green broke through the moment and all eyes landed on him. “It was an Raganian blade these attackers wielded. But it was not someone sent by King George directly, otherwise they would not have tried to kill him.”

“Wha-” Janus stuttered but Green continued.

“It is smarter to take the prince hostage, instead of killing him. It would force us to act quietly and would keep the other kingdoms from interfering out of concern for Roman’s wellbeing, while killing Roman would lead to a guaranteed uproar in Sictes as well as in Kainen. And while King George is proud and overconfident, he is far from stupid. This is not a risk he would take.”

Another pause. Logan sighed and buried his head in his hands. He went mentally through what he had heard Green and Roman tell them just now and tried to puzzle the picture together. The timing was eery, he had to consider if there was a mole among their midst. Even so, it could have been a coincidence. What was not a coincidence though were the attempt on Roman which could have also caused his own fall, since he only was holding this position because of Roman’s order.

“So, it most likely was an operation contrived by someone in George’s court who went behind his back?” Logan concluded and glimpsed up to Green who nodded.

“Yes, that is it most likely. The way these people moved hints towards special training for a secret force, and their weaponry and clothing were perfectly tailored for each of them, which hints to a benefactor of high standing who could pay and arrange those things to be given to them secretly. They knew what they were doing and probably had scouted the area. Still, that they found Roman in the maze could mean that-”

Roman continued Green’s sentence as if they had coordinated it: “-they found me through magic. Yes, I came to that conclusion as well. They should not have known that I was not in my room. I haven’t been outside in the maze for the entirety of my stay. They should have looked in my room first, but they haven’t been there, as otherwise Virgil would have caught them.”

Silence stretched over the five men in the room for a moment. Outside, far away in the halls, the guards were bustling around, servants running and following the instructions Green and Roman had given them a few minutes prior.

“Why were you outside?”

Logan’s voice was not sharp but still cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter. Green, who the question had been posed to, opened his mouth but was promptly cut off by Janus adding: “We need the truth here. Only the truth will let you leave this room alive right now.”

Roman froze. No, how- Green was not the traitor! He knew he wasn’t! Janus was wrong to assume that Green was a mole just because he was out in the night without reason. Because he somehow had the perfect timing in rescuing him. Because he somehow had known that the swords were Raganian and their fighting style one of a secret force.

Oh, no.

Then Green dropped on his knees before the king. There was a look of deep devotion, certainty and the uncharacteristic hint of shame in his face. Roman watched Green’s hand twitch as he lifted it towards Logan’s knee but stopped and put them onto his own thighs.

And Green spoke: “I am aware that my knowledge of the situation and the details surrounding it are suspicious. If you need me gone, I will be happy to rot in your prisons or decapitated on your demand, Your Majesty. Because I know the reason, I have to give you will not be able to cease your worries, but I shall give it to you nevertheless.”

He took one last breath as he bowed his head and resumed his answer.

“I – I am plagued by nightmares, have been for many, many years. They are senseless and violent and bloody. Cruel with no rhyme or reason to it. I am quite used to the imagery but once in a while they get especially troubling and I found myself having such dreams far too often lately. I try to get to bed late because of this, but tonight I forgot the time and wandered to the gardens. They were quite beautiful in the moonlight and it was then that I heard the ambush. I know this is not a sufficient answer but it is the answer I-”

“I believe you,” Logan spoke the words which Roman thought.

Roman watched with a smile as Logan tapped Green under the chin and the guard looked up with big disbelieving eyes. For the first time since Roman had come back from his journey Logan did not look like he was as tense as an overstretched spring.

“You do?”

Logan grinned and nodded. He eyed Janus from the corner of his eyes and saw him pressing his lips together in displeasure. The guard had spoken the truth and Janus could confirm it despite the sour taste the whole situation left on his tongue.

“Yes, I do,” Logan confirmed now verbally. “You did not lie, the Royal Advisor could tell so much, and you have yet to make a single mistake in front of me or the others which would lead to me distrusting you. And I have to admit that it is quite a relief for me to learn that I made a good choice by having you by my side.”

***

  “I don’t think, I’ll ever get used to this,” █████ said as he looked at the crown in his hands.

 He and Roman had met up in Roman’s room after the mourning festivities had ended and all of the castle had quieted down. Now it was only the two of them, █████ leaning against Roman’s side. Roman had put his arm around his shoulder and was staring at the sparkling crown in █████’s hands as well. The faint candle light threw dark shadows and Roman tensed up a little. █████ noticed and pressed himself closer to Roman’s side.

 “Neither will I,” Roman said after a few moments and took the crown out of █████’s hands and set it on the night table.

 They looked at each other for a moment. Roman opened his mouth to say something but stopped and instead signed “I’m sorry.” Talking was still too much of a task for him, after a whole year of silence. █████ just shook his head and put his arms around Roman’s torso to squish him in a hug.

 Minutes passed by and eventually Roman wiggled out of █████’s embrace. Quietly, he got off the bed and motioned for █████ to follow him. He followed and the two went to the bay window, which Roman opened and promptly climbed out off. Perplexed █████ stared at him for a moment before he followed as well and climbed down the ivy vines which grew beneath Roman’s window.

 When █████’s feet touched the ground, Roman took his hand and pulled him along in a hurry. █████ let him do so and simply observed the dark surroundings until they ended up in the rose maze.

 Months later Roman would finally explain to █████ how he had spent many days out in the gardens and familiarized himself with the gardeners and how they maintained the bushes and the maze. Thus, he knew exactly at which spots he could hide the wooden swords, which he pulled out of the bushes close to the middle of the rose maze. But at this particular instance Roman did not explain █████ what he was doing and simply handed him the wooden sword.

 “What is the meaning of this?” █████ asked without taking the sword.

 Roman sighed and looked up to the sky. The moon wasn’t out anymore and stars were sparkling up there in the prettiest lights.

 Roman licked his lips and looked back down meeting █████’s eyes directly.

 “I’m scared that they’ll come for us me.”

 █████ stiffened. He heard the unsaid I’m afraid they’ll come for you.

 “I want us me to be prepared. They don’t teach us me to fight properly and I want to know how. I want to train. I want us me to be able to survive.”

 A moment passed. █████ took a deep breath and then the sword. For a few minutes Roman explained the basic fighting stances he had seen the soldiers and guards practice, until he began to simply show them as talking got too hard for him. They didn’t stay outside for much longer and soon went back through the window.

 Many nights like these would follow but that night █████ and Roman did not think of the future any longer, huddled together in Roman’s bed and slept peacefully for the first time in a year.

***

Roman had never been so relieved to hear somebody admitting that they had nightmares. Green’s words had done something in his mind and for a moment, a very small split second, the loneliness in his chest shrunk a little.

“Alright, then. Green’s good but we still aren’t through with you Roman. You will not leave tomorrow,” Virgil said stubbornly.

Roman shot up from his seat and balled his fists.

“You cannot decide this!”

“No, I can’t but I won’t accompany you to your fucking death, Princey! And you know that I am doing you a favour. You are smarter that this!”

“I am not stupid or naïve!” Roman all but shouted towards his friend and tried to get a grip on himself.

Instinctively Roman stepped back, his back touching the wall of the chamber and he watched through the group gathered around him. Janus’s expression was apologizing but stern, he was on Virgil’s side, no doubt. Logan was unreadable but Roman knew that in the end Logan was a strategist and him leaving the castle after what had happened tonight was far too risky. Yes, Roman understood their stances, but the problem was that he was useless except for diplomacy missions. He could not help prepare an army, he could not plan infrastructure or safety plans. The only thing he was, was a pretty face and a charming voice with some good social networking skills. And in the castle that meant nothing.

“Your Royal Highness.”

Roman’s view was blurry but he managed to look at Green who spoke softly: “You are quite brilliant with your words and your charm. And I don’t doubt that you could get through another ambush. But remember that Sictes has no guards like we do. Remember that their walls aren’t as thick as ours and their history hasn’t been filled with assassinations and bloodshed. We shall not bring danger to other kingdoms if we needn’t, Your Royal Highness. We cannot bring the doom to other places just to safe our neck. I know that at heart you are too caring to do something like that.”

It was not the words exactly. Nor was it the phrasing or the intonation. But never in his life had Roman felt his father’s presence shining so much through a person. And with everything that had been happening tonight he felt his hold on himself crumble. Trembling he sat back down on the chest, pressed his hand over his nose and mouth and tried to not cry like a small child because this man somehow reminded him of his father.

Of course, Janus shimmed closer to him and asked what was wrong. Of course, Virgil knelt down next to him and calmingly pressed his hand against his thigh. It took a minute until Roman was calm again, he managed to keep himself from crying and brushed his two worried partners off.

“I see your point. I know it has been a close call and I understand the risks. I just wished I could be of use somehow. Here I can’t do anything,” Roman explained to Green first and then pushed his focus towards Logan.

Logan raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Swiftly he crossed his legs and told Roman: “I can think of a few things you could help me with. Tomorrow we can talk about it in detail but for now I will remind you that your mere presence and smile will let the people hope. They have lost your father and mother, the first to finally bring some sort of peace and prosperity to these lands, and you are the result of their believes and strengths. You are what remains and no matter how good of a king I am, they need to know that their prince is alive and well. They need you alive and so do I. So, thank you for staying here. It will be a great relief.”

Roman nodded and Green and Janus announced that they were now going to check in with the patrols that were sent out to see if it was safe for both king and prince to get back into their sleeping chambers. Virgil would stay with them and keep them safe.

The door fell into its lock as Green and Janus left. Virgil eyed first Roman and then Logan for a few moments. He said nothing as Logan stood up, his legs shakier than usual. He only reacted when he suddenly leaned against the wall to keep himself upright.

“Logan?” Roman asked as Virgil helped Logan regain his balance and led him to the prince.

A little floppy Logan sat down next to him and rubbed his temple.

“Just some light-headedness. Nothing you shall worry about. Now, what had you moved so deeply by Green’s words? I have rarely seen you in such a state and I would like to know what brought it up.”

Roman kneaded his hands and opened his left one. He had thin long fingers, long nailbeds. He was told that they were the hands of his mother. But his complexion and facial structure were his father’s. A memorial to them both.

“I don’t know what it is with him but-” Roman looked up and found the courage to meet Logan’s eyes- “he reminds me of something I can’t quite pin down. And just how he spoke, the way he addressed me, it was as if my father was here for a moment. He just. He really reminded me of him there and while it was painful to remember, it was also unspeakably comforting.”

Logan was not a touchy person in general. So, when he hugged Roman it came a bit as a surprise. What was even more surprising was the fact of how much Roman leaned into the touch. He buried his head in the nape of Logan’s neck and Logan let him do so wordlessly. They parted when Virgil remarked that he could hear Janus and Green come back.

The area had been scouted and a few traces of the intruders had been found close to the eastern wall but otherwise there seemed nothing to go off. Janus had the guards patrol the walls and would initiate a closer look on the kingdom’s borders as soon as the next morning broke. Though for now Logan and Roman could retreat to their rooms, with heightened security of course.

“Thank you very much, Janus. Would you and Virgil accompany me? I wanted to have a word. Green, please bring Roman to his sleeping chamber,” Logan ordered and slowly stood up.

Virgil quirked his up but wordlessly moved up to his side and opened the door for him and Janus. Green followed with Roman and they parted in the hallway to get to their respective wings. Roman looked at the guards standing alongside the walls, the servants bustling around with sleep still in their faces despite the hustle in the castle.

“How late is it even?” Roman mumbled to himself when they finally go to his wing.

Green opened the door to his chamber and said in the same moment: “Half past 1, Your Royal Highness.”

Roman blinked. That was indeed rather late. He gulped and walked towards his room. In the doorframe he stopped and turned around to look at Green. For a moment he mused and then he had made up his mind.

“Would you terribly mind to come inside for a moment? I know your day has been long but I doubt that another few minutes will make that much of a difference.”

Green’s lips twitched but he bowed his head and followed Roman inside. Easily, Roman strode across the room to his little sitting corner and told Green to sit with him. The guard followed and sat silently waiting for Roman to say what he wanted to say.

Roman straightened his pants for a moment and looked over the ruffles and dirt that had been caught on bottom of them. It was rare for him to get this dirty. Not because he didn’t want to but because he was kept from doing so.

“You didn’t tell them that I fought alongside you. Why?”

Green shrugged.

“You said I fought them of, so I assumed you didn’t want them to know that you fought as well. And I had never heard people talking about your sword fighting skills, so what I saw was most likely something you learnt in secret. And while Janus would react delightfully appalled to you hiding this from him, I did not want to be a tattletale. You’ve got your reasons and I respect that, Your Royal Highness.”

Roman listened closely and saw how Green gesticulated during his speech. The movements of his hands were peculiar, not random and agitated but had a method to it. Like the signs he had made up during his year of mourning Roman’s mind added. Green had handled his panic more masterfully than Virgil had after five years of knowing him. He had used nicknames for him, had included himself when he told Roman they were fine.

“Thank you,” Roman settled with instead of voicing any of those observations. “For the secret keeping, the saving and for talking some sense into me. The gods know what would happen if I had kept fighting Virgil and Janus on this. Eventually this would have escalated a lot worse than it did, and I have no intention of hurting these two.”

The look and grin Green had on his faces told Roman that he had known so even if he hadn’t said it. How odd. This stranger being able to just understand him so effortlessly did not worry or bother him nearly as much as it should.

They sat there in silence a little longer. Roman’s head was buzzing, his chest felt heavier but more fulfilled than usual. He again and again eyed this new guard. Thinking about what Janus had told him about Green. About the kid he saved, about things he knew but shouldn’t know about.

Green meanwhile decided that he needed to get Roman to sleep. Calmly, he said to him that they should probably head to bed now and got a silent nod as an answer. He stood and turned away as the prince went to change into his nightclothes and watched as he silently crawled into his bed. He was about to bow and turn away, when a question kept him in place.

“Will you stay?”

Green looked over his shoulder. The faint light of the candle next to his bed illuminated him in a flickering but faint glow. He looked so much smaller and fragile than he should.

“In the room?” Green asked with furrowed brows.

Roman’s voice was quiet as he said: “Yes.”

And in the castle. In our lives. Here, with us. Roman added in his mind but the words were stuck in his mouth. He didn’t know why but with Green here he felt just less lonely.

To his luck, Green didn’t question him. Instead, he simply nodded and sat down on the bench to the foot of his bed. Roman thanked him again and asked if he should blow out the candle.

“You may,” Green said and the room was coated in darkness.

___

Link for AO3, Taglist, Masterlist, and next Chapters are in my first reblog!

[moon-elves-cult]

Going Home

Hey! This is Quil, (bookwyrm), and I wrote a short little snippet I couldn’t get out of my head involving the melves in the KoTLC world about why and how they first leave Earth. Please tell me what you think, it motivates me to write more.

Enjoy. 

Either read below or click here to read on Ao3

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: like one sentence of implied homophobia, but that’s it

Wonder is a finite resource, and the Earth is quickly wrung dry of pleasures when it’s boundaries are so isolated and conservative. You cannot see what brings you life, you cannot dance to the sound of the sky, and you cannot reach. Reach what? They don’t know. 

 All they know is the constant scorching heat from above, the infernal tug on their core from below, every sight and sound so rough and harsh and demanding and cruel.

 You could cut yourself on the wind and bleed dry in the deserts and the Earth would simply grin. 

Once an elf has scaled each mountain twice and swept the ocean floor to the tick of a clock, they are done. They are done with the ‘wonders’ of the surface and the entrapment of the clouds and the ropes of weeds clawing at their feet, trying to hold them down in greed. They are done with the expectations of society and the restrictions where everyone is the same and is expected to love the same, live the same. 

So they leave. 

They leave and they never look back. Why would they? 

What on Earth is left for them? Those they hold most dear no longer look to them, and instead have little ones looking up to them in wonder and curiosity. They are just an old story now, mentioned here and there. Their presence is no longer required. They can only steal kisses behind closed doors, only hold hands when they’re alone.

So they leave.

When an elf leaves they always take three things. No one knows why. No one tells them to. They have no guide, yet the story is always the same. 

Item number one: a jewel. A necklace frothing with diamonds, an earring dripping molten gold and burning their skin, a diadem laden with feather carvings and crushed starlight, it doesn’t matter. Just pick the one you can’t forget and wear it proudly. It doesn’t matter its original purpose, just put it on. 

Item number two: their second favorite scent. They may be confused as they grab a stick of cinnamon and place it in their pocket, or tuck a bloom of wisteria into their braid, but it’s essential. To what? They don’t know. But they hold it near and dear and don’t let it go. The grass will try and take it, seeking to keep them here, but they will persist. 

And lastly, item number three: a memory. This part takes more time. They take a moment to stop and peruse through each moment of time like a bibliophile in the buried tomb of a library, the lights dim and flickering, the scent of rotting pages and dust floating through the air. They’ll take a moment to grab a volume, sift through the pages, and gently set it aside. 

Once they’ve chosen, they will no longer be the same elf they were only moments before, but that’s for the best. 

Then they wait.

They wait for the golden rays of light to turn hollow and blue and cold. And then they step beneath the leapmaster’s cascades of crystals, and they don’t say a word. They don’t need to. 

Instead of the burst of warm feathers beneath the skin that typically accompanies a leap, this feels as though cold water is dripping down their skin as though the light is frozen rain, the condensation clinging to a cold cup on a warm day. 

It’s the longest leap an elf will ever take, following the beam up and up and up into the sky, past the clouds, the particles of their being slipping through the atmosphere and dancing among the stars. 

Of course, once they truly get out there, they realize just how alone the universe really is. The stars are years and years away, and there is nothing but a dark, blank expanse between them and their destination. They won’t forget that. 

They don’t know how long they were in that void when they arrive, their form still slightly scattered as they stumble to the ground, disoriented.

Their hands slap against a floor made of solid black, small dots of white and gold and red and blue and purple splattered throughout. It takes them a moment to notice their reflection staring back, and a moment more to recognize the dots as stars and constellations.

There is a small crystal next to a window, directing the beam of light they leapt with to form a perfect circle in the middle of a circular room. 

They’re still on the floor when another form shimmers into being in front of them, kneeling down to help them to their feet. 

The stranger has sharply pointed ears, the trademark blue eyes, and curling silver locks reflecting in the soft light. They have so so so many questions, but the stranger simply shakes their head, smiling.

 “Welcome home.” 

And they are. They can feel the pressure holding them down lighten, the restraints have eased. The stranger doesn’t ask why they came, doesn’t need to. They’re both there for the same reasons. 

Love. They love themselves. And they were no longer willing to let their inner beauty be stifled by the people who claimed to care about them, and desires are sacrifices for the sake of pleasing others.

The stranger introduces themself. ��Aydan,” they say. They give their name and Aydan asks if that is really the name they want to keep. They say that they changed their name when they arrived, stopped being she, and became they. Became Aydan. 

Some elves take up the offer, either immediately or with time. There is no time limit to discovering and loving yourself. Others keep their name, keep the same personal identity, and Aydan smiles just as bright either way. 

They ask what jewel they chose to bring, and tells them to observe it now. Silver rings turn iridescent, a faint speck of moonlight is suspended in the place of a diamond in a diadem, the center of white sapphires have turned black as the void. 

They can see Aydan’s own jewel, a layered necklace displaying three phases of the moon, glinting as softly as their hair. They notice the stare and give a mischievous smile.

“You will look the same one day,” they say, “the moonlight has its effects. The more you leap with it, the more the light will seep into your body, and it will eventually be physically noticeable. It may be silver hair, or freckles of constellations, or a map scrawled across your skin. Who knows? Your eyes may even turn black”

Next, Aydan asks for their scent, and it takes a moment to remember the flower in their hair or the cloves in their pocket. They hand it over, and Aydan places it in a small pouch they didn’t realize they were carrying. They don’t know what Aydan will do with it, but perhaps they’ll find out eventually. 

Curious, they ask about the memory they selected before leaving. Aydan doesn’t respond right away. “You’ll know what to do with it.” 

They begin to walk away, gesturing for them to follow. As they approach the wall, a small light passes through them, and a tall circle in the wall rolls to the side, revealing an iridescent hallway. Stepping through, they see small specks of light coming from small swarms of lightning bugs, and they find themselves on a balcony,  far up above they see a bubble surrounding on all sides. A clear force field--likely the work of a few psionipaths--protecting the elves from the harsh reality of the outside. 

Looking down, they see a sprawling city, rising up on mountains and sinking into craters, elves of all kinds bustling around and laughing. There are women in suits and boys kissing behind alleyways and children passing below in wheelchairs alongside friends. The dull lights shimmer for miles and miles, farther than they can see. A small burst of flame catches their eye, and they turn to see a group playing with fire--literally. The restrictions from Earth are non-existent here, that’s why they all laugh so loud and smile so bright. 

It’s home. 

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Beauty and the Beast, Part 2

She isn’t quite sure what she expected from you, but a sweet if nervous smile flitting across your face was not it.  “I’m not going to run from you.”  She wants to scoff, but she just fixes you with a confused look and stays silent for you to continue.  “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”  Now she does scoff, but something about how softly you’re looking at her prompts her to give a resigned rumble of a growl from her chest and turn on her heel.  

She begins stalking out of the room, mulling you over in her mind.  She had never had much interest in the princes that would come calling for her hand, and the power of their kingdom gave her the luxury to remain unmarried.  Her tastes had always leaned toward the fairer sex, often instead of the princes that had come to court her she would instead find herself in a dalliance with their sisters or even mothers in a few cases.  You were precisely her taste, as far as physical attributes went, but what intrigued her most was the sharpness about you that was tempered by a feminine kindness she found almost intoxicating.  So soft, so gentle, she wanted to be pinned by your gaze forever.

She’s a few steps out the door when the notices that you aren’t following, and she turns to look at you from over her shoulder.  Her emerald eyes shine from the darkness like a beacon.  “Are you coming to dinner?  Or are you just going to stand there gawking?”  She doesn’t mean to be so rough, truly, but when you go several decades without meaningful human interaction it’s going to take a toll on your social ability.  Especially when presented with someone so alluring.  She growls to herself as she turns again, continuing to stride powerfully down the hallway but slowing her gait to give you a chance to catch up.

As you’re walking beside her she gives a nod to a steward who gives the order to begin lighting the torches.  She’s delighted by the gasp of wonder you let out as the palace is lit from within.  She watches your face as you take everything in with wide eyes, and seeing as you’re distracted enough she takes a moment to appreciate your form.  The dress you have on is a beautiful cornflower blue, and topped with a rather cute white apron.  It’s simple but it suits you, although she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t imagining draping you in every bit of finery she could scrounge up in this place.  You’d look wonderful in yellow, she’s sure, dripping with gold and gems from her mother’s jewelry box, looking like the sun had been pulled down from the sky just for her.  

Dinner is an affair, her chef-stove taking the opportunity to create a culinary masterpiece the likes of which the castle hadn’t seen for decades.  Pulling out all the stops, she’s delighted to watch you eat dish after dish as she plies you with questions, tongue loosened by wine.  “I just needed to get away for the day.  My father, he’s rather ill and the doctor isn’t sure if he’ll ever wake.  I’ve left him in a care clinic, but that leaves just me in the home and, well, there aren’t any jobs for unmarried young women in my village that I’d be willing to do, if you understand me.”  Her heart breaks for you.  She understands you perfectly, even if she doesn’t have the firsthand knowledge of what it’s like to be put in that kind of situation.  Her rumble of assent seems to be enough for you to continue.  “On top of that, there’s this...this man…” the way you spit out that word makes her huff out a laugh “this horrible monster of a man who doesn’t seem to understand what the word no means.  He’s asked for my hand a dozen times, in increasingly desperate ways, and every time I rebuff him his reactions get worse.  After my father collapsed...well I didn’t want to be in the house today for when he inevitably came by to ask to marry me again.  I’m not sure I’d have made it out entirely intact.”  

The snarl on her face makes you squeak a little in fear, eyes widening.  She takes a deep breath in to school her expression.  “What a horrid pissant.”  Your rather unladylike snort of laughter makes her smirk.  “I do not miss my interactions with men.  Dreadful, entitled beings with rare exception.”  Your giggle is what she was after, and the two of you trade stories back and forth about your experiences with men.  When you collapse into a heap of laughter at her telling of the time she managed to convince a rather stupid prince that the castle was haunted by simply kicking the post of the table they sat at for tea, she knows it’s time to bring you to your room.  You’re definitely drunk, but bubbly and lively.  When you stand and wobble she offers you her arm, like a gentleman should, and escorts you to a rather lavishly furnished guest room.  

When she returns to her own chambers, dark and decrepit from years of her pent up aggression being taken out on the furnishings, she collapses into her pile of pillows and down comforters with a sigh.  You could it be, could be the one to break the curse and the one she would spend hopefully the rest of her life with.  But you’ll be going back to that shitty little village tomorrow, you’d forget all about her as those who leave these lands always do, and she’ll be left here to rot along with all of the poor staff who she’d brought down with her.  If only she could convince you to stay longer, to give her a chance to show you how she could provide for you.  But she would not keep you prisoner.  She knows too well what it means to be trapped by these four walls with no real freedom, longing for connection and intimacy.  No, you were not a bird to be kept in a gilded cage.  With a heavy heart she sinks into sleep, resigned to her fate and whispering apologies out into the void for the lives of those in her employ who would fall victim with her to her own weaknesses.

~~~

When you wake the next morning you’re rather hungover but still remember last night with decent clarity.  The mysterious beast who lived in the castle was a woman, seemingly a noblewoman of high standing who before whatever happened here used to cavort around with the princes and diplomats from foreign nations.  She was sharp and witty, her dry sense of humor magnifying the absolute stupidity of some of her former compatriots.  Even in this form she was attractive, in a dangerous way that made your heart thrum in your chest and nerves feel on fire.  Her fur was so soft, and your cheeks heat when you vaguely remember burying your face against the fur of her neck when she caught you from stumbling.

Part of you is loathe to leave today, but you know that you must get back to the cottage and sort things out.  You’ll need to count your coins and talk to the owner of the book shop about perhaps taking on a position there in some capacity dusting, cleaning, anything he needed.  So long as you could get some coin in your purse to scrounge up a living on so you wouldn’t have to seriously consider the advances of Gerard.  If you got to that point you don’t know what you’d do, so it’s best not to dwell on it.  

When you finally muster the energy a few minutes after waking, you stand from the bed and stretch.  The pop and crack of your back and shoulders makes you sigh in relief, and you take a moment to limber up before washing your face in a basin and slipping your dress back on over your shift.  Peeling back the curtains your face goes worried at the blizzard raging outside, the happy pop and crackle of the roaring fire in your fireplace was enough to drown out the wind whipping outside of the castle walls.  

The knock on the door of your guest chambers surprises you, but when your hostess opens the door after you call for her to enter you fix her with a large, if sheepish, smile.  “I see you’ve noticed our predicament, sweetheart.”  The pet name makes your cheeks flush and she smirks, hitting the mark.  “I’m afraid you may be here for the foreseeable future, I know you needed to get back to town but I don’t believe you’d make it there in these conditions.  I’d offer you the use of a horse if I had one, darling, but I do not.”  She looks at you sadly, although hopeful, and her eyes brighten when you giggle and smile at her sweetly.

“Well, I can think of worse places to get stuck, and with worse company.”  When you wink you can tell she’s flustered by the way her jaw tightens and she looks away from you.  “I appreciate the effort, but seriously, I’m happy to be here.  Thank you for not leaving me out there last night.”  You place your hand on her arm, your fingers sinking into warm auburn fur and finding hard corded muscle beneath.  She grumbles at you, gaze unreadable, and you can tell she’s gone somewhere in her mind that isn’t exactly pleasant.

“I learned long ago not to turn away those in need.  Come then, let’s find us something to do today.  Tell me, sweet, what do you enjoy?  Chess?  Painting?  Needlepoint?”

“Books.”  Your answer is immediate, and your cheeks are still flushed as she gazes at you with warm eyes.  She doesn’t answer you though, merely nods and turns to walk down the hall at a slow enough pace that you can follow alongside.  When she walks slowly she can manage on just her hindquarters, those hugely muscular thighs and hips too much to be contained by regular breeches.  She had been wearing them last night when she took you to dinner, but you could see how they strained at the seams.  She’s in a pair of riding pants today, the fabric seems to have more give to it and is cut on the bias to allow for even more stretch.  Her white blouse is tucked into the pants, although her collar is open to leave room for her neck and scruff.  The swell of her breasts is prominent but not overly so, and you find yourself wondering what she looked like before whatever happened.  Has she always been like this?  Is this a new predicament?  

Before you can ask anything she stops you in front of a set of huge, wooden doors.  “Close your eyes.”  Under normal circumstances this would be an odd request, you find it especially odd coming from your kind-if-rough-around-the-edges host, but you do so anyway, not only closing your eyes but covering them with your hands.  When the door before you opens you’re hit with a blast of cool air that smells like old paper, worn leather, and firesmoke.  It smells like the book shop back in town, a scent you’ve come to love.  You feel a large clawed paw on your lower back that gently guides you in.  You’re still left in the dark for a bit as you hear someone stoking a fire in the fireplace, but once you can hear the cheery crackling of split wood and the gentle roar of the flames you hear your host’s voice again.  “Alright, sweet, open them.”

The windows are too dark with snow to let in much natural light, but the fireplace does a good job of illuminating most of the first level.  Looking up into the hugely vaulted ceiling you see at least two more levels above with small walkways and huge moving ladders.  You can’t help the gasp you give and the awestruck wonder with which you take in the sight of so many books.  “I didn’t know there were even this many books in the world.”  You miss the gentle look the queen gives you as you speak in hushed and reverent tones.  

“I want you to be comfortable here, especially with how long it looks like you may be stuck here between the blizzard and the havoc it will undoubtedly wreak on the forest paths.  So long as you’re here with me, sweet, you may come here at any time.  Nothing but my private quarters are closed off to you, but I implore you to ask for guidance from myself or my staff if you wish to wander, I would hate for you to get lost in our maze of halls just to perish while I search for you.”  She’s rambling a little, but you find it endearing and just laugh and nod along.  

“You know, I don’t think I’ve met your staff, are they...like you?”  Her face is steel after your question, eyes hard and angry.  She shakes her head a gruff no.

“No, I am the only one cursed to look like such a beast.  They were all victims of my hubris and selfishness.”  Okay, so she hasn’t always looked like this and she’s bitter about it.  While you’re mulling over the fact that you’re, well, pretty attracted to her, and you’re trying to figure out how to tell her you think she’s beautiful without coming across as patronizing, she calls out someone’s name.

You hear what sounds like wooden legs scurrying across marble when you’re bowled into by the ottoman who saved your butt from hitting the marble last night.  It lets out a low, rumbling bark that makes you laugh at the absurdity of the situation.  You do your very best to pet the ottoman, running your palms along its broad back and taking the time to scratch at the seam where the cushion met the frame.  Your host is smiling fondly down at you as you play with the “dog,” who has chosen to settle on your lap with a satisfied sigh.  

“Okay, so your staff are...furniture?”  She sighs, kneeling down beside you to scratch under what you’re hoping is the chin side of this ottoman.  

“Many years ago, I was spoiled and selfish and vain.  I allowed my bitterness and anger to turn me into a monster, and I justified all of it by the fact that I was queen and none could defy me.  I was cursed, and rightfully so, for denying an old woman shelter on a night much like last night.  I denied her because she was ugly, and I thought such creatures didn’t deserve a place in my beautiful palace.  It wasn’t her that was ugly though, it was me.  She proved it simply by making the outside match the inside.”  She way she gazes, almost unseeingly, down at her paws makes your heart hurt for her.  

“How do we break the curse?”  She’s startled out of her reverie by your hand on hers, and when she glances at your face she’s struck by the sincerity and openness on it.  “I want to help, you’ve been so kind to me, I think you’ve...I hope at least you’ve learned the lesson you were meant to.  Let me help you, it’s the least I can do.”  

She gives you a sad smile, more of a grimace or a sneer than a smile really but you understand the sentiment behind her bared teeth.  Her huge paw comes up to touch your cheek gently, not daring to cup your face in her hand lest you realize what you’re sitting across from.  “Oh you sweet, gentle girl.  Thank you, but I am resigned to my fate.  If you’re happy to keep me company though while you’re here, that is more than I could ever ask.”  You agree readily, eyes bright as you instruct her to get settled on the chaise by the fireplace.

“We’re going to read together!  Or, well, one of us will read to the other.  Now...let’s see…”  You let her instruct you to her most beloved collection of books, all of them well worn with weak spines and creased leather.  She loved her books, you can tell, and you’ll do right by them.  You swear.  Picking the most loved and creased volume of all you wander back over to the chaise and settle yourself closest to the fire, between the warm wall of muscle and fur of your host and the hard arm of the chaise.

She plucks the book from your hands, looking down at it longingly.  Her huge paws dwarf the small, leather-bound tome.  She flips it open to a particular page, the book falls open there easily so you guess that she studied this page a thousand times.  Her long tongue licks nervously over the corner of her muzzle and she skims the page with one claw, eyes full of unexpressed emotion.

“That man to me seems equal to the gods,

The man who sits opposite you

And close by listens

To your sweet voice/

And your enticing laughter--

That indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast.

For whenever I look at you even briefly

I can no longer say a single thing,/

But my tongue is frozen in silence;

Instantly a delicate flame runs beneath my skin;

With my eyes I see nothing;

My ears make a whirring noise./

A cold sweat covers me,

Trembling seizes my body,

And I am greener than grass.

Lacking but little of death do I seem.”

Her voice is low and longing, each word dripping unbidden with hidden meaning.  “Did you write that?”  You voice is wondering and it makes her laugh loud and clear.  It doesn’t sound like that’s a noise she’s made in a long, long while if the rasp from its disuse is anything to go by.  

“No, sweet, but thank you for thinking that something so beautiful could come from someone as ugly inside as I was.”  She pushes a long lock of hair behind your ear as she stares down at you softly.  “It was written by Sappho, a woman from Ancient Greece who wrote poetry about loving other women, the way men love them.”  

Your cheeks are hot but you can’t look away from her face.  Loving other women?  You’d never given much thought to the fact that you hadn’t found a man attractive in, well, ever.  You figured it had more to do with the lack of options in your little village than anything about men as a whole.  Thinking on it though, whenever you imagined your life going forward you never really imagined a husband.  Sure, you imagined a partner with you, someone to share your days and your burdens, but as you dwell on it for a moment you come to a rather sudden realization that you never much liked men in the first place.  “Will you read me more?”

Your host chuckles, thumbing your chin.  “Of course, sweet.  Here, let me read you some of my favorite fragments…”  She trails off, flipping through the thin pages looking for something in particular.  That’s how the two of you spend the whole of the morning and most of the afternoon.  A rather sweet teapot brings a rolling cart with lunch and tea on it, chattering happily with her companions as they leave when you thank each of them individually with a sweet smile.  

When you collapse back into your bed that night, the storm still raging outside the castle leaving the sky nothing but a sheet of gray, you do so with a smile on your face.

At the same moment you collapse into bed, your horse has been found still saddled but without you on it, shivering in the barn and eating the last of the hay that had been set out.  The stablehand from the inn takes charge, and Gerard has plans to use this to his advantage.  He pays, quite happily, for the inn to board and care for your mare.  Once the snow lets up he is going to go into the woods in search of you.  Either he will bring you back agreeing to be his wife, or he will leave you there to rot and claim to have found nothing but some tattered remains of your dress.  Yes, he will get what he wants, or you will just have to die, because if he cannot have you then, well, what’s the use of you existing?

You fall asleep, blissfully unaware of the plans of that toad back at your village.  You’re simply looking forward to tomorrow, wondering what else your host can introduce into your life.

[panda-noosh]

Lost Memories {Pidge x Reader}

Words: 5k

  Summary: It wouldn't be long until you forgot all about Voltron – all about Pidge. It wouldn't be long until the manipulation took hold and there was nothing left but a void. But Pidge was determined to hold on for as long as possible if it meant spending those last few months with you.

  Genre: pure angst

  Warning: mind manipulation – extreme feels

  Notes: masterlist – this is the saddest thing i've ever written and I hate myself.

  ---

    Pidge promised she would look after you.

    She looked you in the eyes, even whenever it was obvious the same person was not looking back at her, and she swore she would not let you down. She would not leave you to rot like everybody else had wanted to do.

    After the accident, she knew things would never be the same. The zap that had mangled your brain had done enough damage to kill a person, but you were still alive. Your eyes were still open, and you were still talking, and she could hear the sweet voice she had fallen in love with – only it wasn't the same. There was a difference to it. The words you were speaking were your own, but Pidge didn't recognise them.

     It was like sand trickling through an hour glass – slowly descending until there was nothing left. That was all this was. The Galra had made you into a ticking time bomb, and Pidge was holding it in her hands with so much care, refusing to let go until the very, very last second – refusing to believe anything bad could happen to you.

     You were on bed rest for a number of weeks after the incident. The infirmary had been showered in darkness, to Coran's advice, and Pidge had visited you every day. Not only had your brain been infiltrated brutally, but your body had been abused just as bad. The physical damage was enough to send shivers down even Pidge's spine, though she still managed to look at you and smile a shaky grin, hoping and praying that that would be enough to perhaps stop the slow decline of your health.

   She visited you every day. She held your hand. She ran wet cloths over your forehead whenever your temperature spiked. She promised you she would always be there, because she would always be there. She couldn't think of anywhere else to be – she had work to do, assignments to complete, missions to go on, but she felt as if her place was right by your side, and none of the other Paladins were heartless enough to go against that.

    You were up and walking after a few weeks of constant treatment. The mental damage started to shimmy to the forefront. Pidge didn't want to believe it.

   Not now. You were so young, so fragile, so kind. How could such a thing happen to you? Pidge thought it should have been her, even though she was aware that such a thought was so stereotypical, so obvious. The one you love gets injured and you immediately start to tell yourself that you should have done something differently – Pidge should have gotten to the Galra ship sooner. She should have broken the damn door down as soon as she saw it instead of wasting time trying to pick the lock. She should have been in that torture chair with her head strapped down, with her memories being wiped one by one until the only thing that was left was a hollow void of a person.

   Except they hadn't just wiped your memories – they would never show that kind of mercy.

   Somehow, some way, with whatever technology the Galra empire had conjured up in the last 10,000 years, they had made it so that your memories weren't wiped straight away – they would trickle away. Slowly and over time, so the Paladins were forced to watch as you slowly forgot who they were, as you slowly grew more and more confused as to why you were in space in the first place.

   They made it so that Pidge would be forced to watch as the person she had fallen in love with forgot about her entire existence.

   The other Paladins had told her to just let it go, that this was the end of the road for whatever relationship the two of you had built up over the past few years. There was no coming back from this, and Pidge knew that. She was smart. She was a realist. She knew there was no way she could stop the slow decline of your memories from happening, but she also knew that there was no way she could send you home whenever her name was still on your lips and you were still looking at her like she was sunshine and you were a person who had been trapped in darkness your whole life.

    You still remembered her. It wouldn't be long until you forgot, but Pidge would wait it out. She wouldn't give up on you until you had given up on her, and even then she was fairly certain that the attachments would be too strong – she would send you back to earth, send you back to your family, but she would never forget you. There was no way in hell she would ever forget you.

   For weeks after you were released from the infirmary, the entire ship was walking on egg-shells. Any time they saw you, they would ask the most random of questions just to make sure your memory was still in tact for that day.

    “Y/N! I've been meaning to ask you, because I forgot – silly me – but what's my favourite colour?”

   “Hey Y/N! Have you seen the big guy around? You know, the big guy? The yellow Paladin? What was his name again?”

    You started to forget little things after a while.

     You forgot the name of the ship you often flew during missions. You forgot who Kaltenecker was. You had screamed whenever one of the mice had ran across your knee, and then demanded to know why there were rodents running around the ship so freely. Allura had been forced to grab your hand to stop you from calling up pest control.

    It would have been funny in any other circumstances. It would have been a good laugh, something for you all to joke about if you didn't know the reason behind your sudden forgetfulness. Pidge watched you from across the room, her arms folded over her chest, watched as you pouted at different things, plucking at them with your fingers as if you couldn't quite place what they were or why they were there; there was some times when you looked as if you were unsure why you were there, or what you were doing.

    Pidge would pull you away from scenes like this. In her head, the quicker you got away from the source of your confusion, the slower the decline would happen. She would save herself time, as selfish as she knew it was. She didn't know whether you were suffering or not. Did it hurt to have memories extracted from your brain one-by-one? Was your brain currently being ripped apart by the Galra's torture?

    You never showed any signs of pain, but Pidge knew it couldn't have been pleasant to one day remember something and the next day have it completely wiped from your brain, as if it didn't exist.

   As if she didn't exist.

   It was a day off whenever it happened.

   A day off. The worst kind of days. Pidge had been spending the majority of her time hauled up on the ship anyway, but days off always managed to make her skin crawl; she never had anything to do. You would spend the day wandering around the ship, getting confused over the tiniest things and Pidge would be forced to watch as your brain slowly morphed into mush, as your surroundings became more and more foreign to you.

   On days off, she had no work to distract herself with. Her entire day was consumed with the heartbreak of knowing that you were not going to last very long.

    You had been lasting much longer than Pidge had anticipated, though that was her just being negative. Trying to be the pessimist so she wouldn't get her heart broken. But it had nearly been a year, and you still slept beside her, still remembered her name, still replied to her “I love you”'s with a grin and an “I love you,” of your own.

     You still remembered the other Paladins, too. Perhaps those memories were forever. Perhaps the Galra's machinery had been too weak to extract those thoughts from your mind-

    Pidge heard you scream and bolted upright immediately.

   Her hand reached out, feeling around the covers for your arm. You were sitting up as well, the quilt pulled up to your chin as you looked over through the darkness at the figure standing on the far side of the room. Pidge narrowed her eyes, fumbling with her glasses so she could get a better look at who it was.

   Lance, half-bent over as he tried to reach for Pidge's TV remote. His head was now craned, looking over at you with wide eyes.

    “Get out! Get out! I'm calling the police!” you shrilled. “Pidge, get the phone!”    Pidge looked over at you in shock. Why were you screaming? This was Lance.

   “Y/N, calm down,” said Pidge. “It's just-”

   Before Pidge could even finish her sentence, you were suddenly grabbing for the flower vase at the side of the bed and lobbing it across the room towards Lance. Lance cried out, stumbling to the side as the glass shattered against the wall behind his head.

    “Get out! Take what you want, but don't you dare touch Pidge!”

   It dawned on both you and Lance at the exact same moment what was happening.

    Lance's face fell. Pidge and him made eye contact through the darkness. The walls seemed to be closing in, the world felt like it was ending, there was fire engulfing Pidge's lungs and it took everything in her to fold her arms over your shoulders and tug you into her side.

   You were trembling, clenching your fingers in Pidge's shirt and pulling her impossibly closer.

   “Lance, leave,” whispered Pidge.

   “Have they-” Lance began, but Pidge cut him off with a dull shake of her head – it was all she could manage. She felt hollow.

   Lance nodded back, pursed his lips as if to fight off tears before he was slowly leaving the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

    The room was engulfed in darkness once more. Pidge risked leaning over and turning the bedside lamp on, but she regretted it as soon as your face was illuminated by the yellow light. She had never seen you look so terrified.

    You were clutching onto Pidge's shirt as if your life depended on it. Tears were staining your cheeks, and your hands were trembling within the fabric that looked as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded right now.

   Pidge looked away, fighting off the bile rising in her throat.

   “Could you imagine what he would have done if I hadn't woken up?” you whispered.

   Pidge stroked her fingers through your hair. “It was just Lance, babe. I know him. He's a friend of mine.”

   You pulled away then, looking over at Pidge with a raised eyebrow. Pidge resisted the urge to reach forward and trace the white scar that slid from the top of your forehead through the corner of your eyebrow – that was the place the Galra had made the incision. That was the entrance wound that allowed all of this to happen.

   “You never told me about him,” you said.

   Pidge smiled weakly, lower lip trembling despite her best efforts. “I guess his name just . . . never showed up in conversation. But don't worry about him. He would never hurt either of us. He probably just wanted to borrow some socks or something.”

  You sighed and slumped back against the pillows. “He could have at least knocked. Gave me the fright of my life.”

    “I'll be sure to tell him that.”

  ---

    For a while, it felt as if things had gone back to normal.

   You actually started speaking to Lance after Pidge had convinced you that he was a friend of hers – though the conversation was strained, with Lance unsure of just how much he was allowed to say, it was a start, and Pidge saw herself having hope.

   If you could restart a relationship with Lance, then was it so difficult for her to believe that you could fall back in love with her once Pidge was wiped from your memories as well?

   The hope was crushed, though, as a similar situation took place only a few weeks after Pidge had started seeing light at the end of the tunnel. Lance had walked into the room, and you had curiously looked up from your work and asked him if he was a new recruit.

   You had forgotten him again.

   His existence, the memories you had with him, had been wiped clean once again.

     That was really the start of it. That was the moment when Pidge realised that this was not something she could work around – you were going to forget her. In a few months time, you were going to look at Pidge like she was a complete stranger, and that was going to be it. There would be nothing she could do, no matter how much she tried.

    The decline only got worse.

   It was Hunk then. Pidge had walked in and seen you reading Hunk the 'Beginners Manual to Voltron' with Hunk sitting beside you looking like a kid who had just been sent to the naughty corner. There were tears glowing on his cheeks at the realisation that this was it, and Pidge had been forced to comfort him after you had bid him good luck on his 'new journey' and left the room.

   And then it was Shiro, which was a shock to everyone.

   Shiro didn't try to fight it. He simply reintroduced himself as if it were the most normal thing in the world, fighting a heartbroken smile onto his face. He had pulled Pidge into his room that night, asked her when they should drop you off back to earth, because this was getting out of hand.

   Pidge had told him to go to hell, reminded him that she wasn't giving up on you until your brain was completely gone, until being in the castle ship was more confusing than the people walking around.

    Shiro had looked at her with such pity then, but Pidge had merely turned on her heel and headed back down the hallway.

   She knew her time was coming soon. As the Paladins dwindled from your memory, a constant repeat of introductions which would be forgotten again in the next day or so, Pidge was aware that she wouldn't be spared such a fate. She needed to talk to you one last time before you forgot about her. She needed to make her feelings known, needed to say she loved you one last time before everything went to hell around her.

    It was a cold night, and you were bundled up under the covers. Pidge was still sat up, her laptop balancing on her knees but she had done very little work since she had crawled into bed next to you. That day, you had forgotten Coran's name and had even made the mistake of calling him a 'human' rather than 'Altean.'

    You sighed drearily, looking up from the iPad you were scrolling through. “What you working on?”

   Pidge quickly closed her laptop in her attempts to hide the blank screen in front of her. She slowly set it to the end of the bed, shimmied down and cuddled up next to you. Your warmth brought her comfort, even as the words she knew she needed to say were making every bone in her body tense up with the cold.

   “Nothing important,” Pidge replied. And then she reached up and gently traced her fingers down the very same scar she had been inspecting previously. You closed your eyes, giggling beneath her touch. “Do you know how you got this scar?”

   “No. I think I was born with it,” you said.

   Pidge smiled weakly. “Right. You always said your mother dropped you on your head as a baby or something like that.”

  You chuckled. “That was just a joke, Pidge. My mother was very careful with me from what I've heard.” You reached up and placed your hand over Pidge's as it trailed down your forehead. “I don't know. Maybe it's not a scar – maybe it's a birth mark of some kind. Honestly, I don't ever remember not having it.”

   “You don't?”

  “Nope. It's never bothered me that much, either. People don't tend to comment on it.”

   Pidge nodded as if she understood. She nodded as if she had never before seen your forehead without this heart-wrenching memory adorning it.

   “You're not self conscious of it or anything, are you?” she found herself asking. “Because you're beautiful.”

   You started, head flicking down to look at her. In the dim light, Pidge could make out the small smile appearing on your face, could see the shock making it's way onto your features at Pidge's sudden confession of your beauty.

   “Pidge!” you exclaimed. “You know not to say things like that – it makes me flustered.”

  Pidge's hand dropped and she intertwined your fingers together. “I just want you to know that. I don't want you going around thinking that scar is an imperfection, because it's not. It's perfect.”

    “Pidge-”

   “You know how much I love you, don't you?”

  Pidge couldn't stop herself now. She was too far gone, the words falling from her mouth at a speed that screamed desperation. She spoke as if it would be any minute now that you would look down at her and the familiarity and love would be gone – she needed to say this before you forgot her. She needed to say this before every single memory the two of you had made together ceased to exist.

    “O-of course I know,” you replied, tone laced with confusion more-so than shock now. “And I love you. Are you feeling okay?”

    “I've never been better,” Pidge said, but the words came out as a croak as her throat started to coat with emotion. “Whenever I'm with you, Y/N, I am the happiest girl in the whole damn world. You make me the happiest girl in the world.”

   “Oh, Pidge-”

   “Please just don't forget me.” The tears bloomed in Pidge's eyes then, dribbled down her cheeks before she could even comprehend they were there.

   Your own eyes widened, you immediately snapping up and wiping the tears away with your thumb. Pidge basked in the feeling of your palm against her cheek, leaned into it and let the sobs rack her body. She didn't realise how hard this would be, how difficult it would be to look you in the eyes as she knew this feeling wouldn't last long. This could very well be the last conversation she had with you where you knew her as your girlfriend; soon, Pidge would be forced to let you go. She would be forced to watch you as you turned from the ship and never looked back, as you went off and did your own thing, created your own life without her in it.

    It was a physical ache, and Pidge was dipping her head into your collar bone and sobbing profusely before she could stop herself.

   “Oh my god, Pidge,” you whispered, stroking your hands through her hair. “Please stop crying. You're breaking my heart. Where is this all coming from?”

    “Nowhere,” Pidge choked out. “Nowhere. I'm sorry. I'm just – I'm emotional, that's all.” She pulled away, tried to give you her best smile but her nose was running and her eyes were puffy. “I just really, really love you. So much.”

   You nodded, eyes tracing her face. Your eyebrows were pulled together in concern, hands still messing with the flicked out pieces of hair at the back of Pidge's neck – Pidge used to complain when you did this. Every time the two of you kissed, Pidge would pull back with a playful scowl on her face because your fingers somehow always managed to find them specific pieces of hair and start playing with them.

   But now she leaned into your touch. She wanted more. She wanted to feel your hands against her skin for what could very well be the last time.

    “I love you too, Pidge,” you whispered. “So, so much.”

    Pidge smiled.

    And then your eyes grew dull, and your hands stilled on Pidge's neck, and you scrambled off the bed with a scream.

  ----

      Pidge looked at earth with a feeling of bittersweet coiling in her system.

   This was where her family was. This was where she had grown up, where she was born, her home in every sense of the word. This was where she belonged, and where her and the Paladins had been trying to get to for months now.

   But still.

   She looked at it now with a slight scowl on her face, and a sudden urge to turn her ship around and go back consumed her. She knew it was selfish – Matt, her parents, everyone had been waiting for her return for months now, and she had promised them such a thing would happen. They would be reunited, and it would be sweet, and she would cherish that moment forever.

   But this was also the place where you were now – whoever you were.

   A stranger was what Pidge was to you now, and she had come to terms with that over the past year. It had been heart wrenching. She had been in physical fights, had nearly died on multiple occasions, but chasing herself back to health with physical wounds was and never would be as difficult as chasing herself back to a healthy state of mind.

    Even now, she was fairly certain there were still some open wounds there that were refusing to close.

    She and the Paladins landed back on earth in the dead of night. They landed the lions and clambered out, and even though it was late, a crowd of people were still awaiting them. They greeted them all, Pidge taking her time with reuniting with her exhausted family with whom she had missed so much.

   She looked around as if you would be standing there. You were nowhere to be seen.

   Pidge kept the smile on her face, turned back to her parents and asked for a catch-up.

   ---

    Her parents and Matt had fallen asleep.

   Pidge could do no such thing. She stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill with her knees pulled into her chest and her chin resting comfortably atop them. She remembered a few years back whenever you would always be sat in front of her, even though there was very little room for the both of you. Your knees would be pushed into Pidge's tightly, and Pidge would place her arms on top of your legs to give herself more room. The two of you very rarely spoke whenever you were in this position – you just stared out the window, watched the stars whiz past, just basked in each others presence.

   Pidge missed that.

   Instinctively, she reached her arms out, as if doing so would bring you back. She pretended that her elbows were resting on your knees, just like they always used to, but they merely fell to her side and clashed against the white wall.

    She sighed and stood up. A midnight walk would do her no harm, she said to herself. It was most likely best for her to stay put, not worry her family any more than she already had done these past few years, but fuck it. She was home, so why not enjoy it?

    She pulled her coat on and left the house she had grown up in once again. Only difference was, she had every plan to come back this time. She just needed a moment to herself.

   She walked for what felt like minutes, but those minutes had trickled into hours soon enough. Daylight was beginning to form by the time she turned into the coffee shop – a coffee shop she didn't recognise, but it was twenty-four-hour and that was all she cared about. It was warm, and it held beverages that would keep her awake; what more could Pidge ask for?

   She waltzed up to the counter and ordered her usual order, giving them her name – her fake name, she realised only after she had spoken the word 'Pidge' to the exhausted looking cashier. She winced when she said it – oh, how it would take time for the world to go back to normal. How long would it be until she started calling herself Katie again? Perhaps never. But the name Pidge had so many memories clipped to it that Pidge would much rather forget.

   She took a seat on the far side of the coffee shop, messing with her hands as she waited for her order. She would usually bring her laptop to mess with, get some work done, but she had nothing to do.

   Another one of those dreaded days off that she hated so much. Her brain was free to do whatever it wanted, and that was very dangerous territory to be crossing into.

    “Order for Pidge!”

   Pidge looked up.

   Not because her name had been called. Not because her coffee was ready. But because she recognised the voice that had just called her name.

   She nearly choked on the air she was breathing.

   Her limbs became fire. Her brain became muddled, the clothes on her back suddenly feeling as if they were sinking into her skin. Her coffee was forgotten. Her exhaustion leaked out of her system and she was standing up, stumbling towards the counter with the grace of a bull in a china shop.

    You were there.

   But you couldn't have been. How could you have just been standing in front of her? That wasn't possible.

   Well, it was, but it was too good to be true in Pidge's eyes. For an entire year, she had wanted nothing more than to see you again, and here you were – in front of her, at four in the morning, working the counter at the coffee shop Pidge just happened to waltz into on a whim.

    Pidge didn't even start liking coffee until a few months back.

    “Y/N,” she croaked out. It took her a minute to realise just how weird she must have sounded – she reminded herself that, to you, Pidge was a complete stranger.

   You narrowed your eyes, hand stilling on the coffee cup you had in your hand. Despite the confused expression on your face, Pidge would have been a fool to miss the blush forming on your cheeks – the very same blush that had formed on your cheeks all them years ago whenever Pidge had first spoken to you. It was the blush that you had later told her had been the product of your immediate crush on her.

   Pidge's heart fluttered. Her grip on the counter top tightened. She bit down on her lip, tried to stop herself from diving over the counter and hugging you then and there.

    “I don't believe we've met before,” you said.

   Pidge nodded, swallowing in any attempt to clear her voice of nerves and excitement. “Uh, no. No, we haven't, but I just – uh – I read your name tag! Your name tag, yeah!”

   A stupid excuse, but it was the only thing she could think of in the moment.

   You looked down at the name tag pinned upon your apron and nodded. “Right. . . Well, can I help you with anything?”

  “I just wanted to thank you for the coffee,” Pidge replied, picking up the drink and taking a sip of it to exaggerate her gratefulness – she ended up burning her tongue, hissing and dropping the paper cup back to the counter so roughly that the lid popped off and coffee spilled over her wrist.

    Your eyes widened. You dropped the pen and the paper cup you were holding, immediately pulling a towel out from your pocket and leaning over the counter. You snatched Pidge's hand towards yourself and started dabbing the cloth against her throbbing, blistering wrist.

   “Careful there,” you flustered. “Come round here. We have a cold water tap.”

   Pidge didn't speak. She followed you behind the counter, your fingers wrapped around her wrist, feeling so familiar yet so foreign all at the same time. Pidge was aware that she wouldn't be able to speak if you spoke to her now – she was too far gone. This was unbelievable. This was straight from a movie, some fate brought us back together bullshit.

    “Hopefully we got it under the tap quick enough,” you chuckled.

   Pidge nodded.

    “Are you sure you're okay? I can go out to the corner shop and get you some SudaCrem if it still hurts.”

   Pidge resisted the urge to close her eyes, to bask in your familiar kindness that she missed so much. “N-No. I think I'll be okay. The cold water is soothing it w-well enough.”

   You nodded. Pidge didn't miss the way you refused to make eye contact with her – it was like your first meeting all over again. Pidge remembered the day clearly, the way she had went to shake your hand and you had pulled away in shock. You had later said that you couldn't quite believe somebody like Pidge was wanting to shake your hand.

    Pidge had been head over heels with you, as well, only she was much better at hiding it.

   “Well, the coffee is on the house,” you said, letting Pidge's wrist go and drying your hands on the towel. “For compensation, or whatever.”

   “You just don't want me suing you, I think,” Pidge joked.

   You flushed, giggling. “That, too.”

     Pidge could have stayed like this forever. It was four am, and her mother was bound to be worrying, but Pidge truly could have stayed there for the rest of her life with you beside her, neither of you having a care in the world. You were just two awkward teenagers again, only you were two normal teenagers; there was no Galra trying to get into your head, no aliens zooming down upon you in the hopes of taking your life – you were in a coffee shop, and Pidge had just burned herself, and it was normal. It was everything Pidge had wanted once before, because she had never been able to show you her normal side. It was always go-go-go, to the point where Pidge was fairly certain you had never seen her not be a Paladin.

    But she was being given her second chance now, and she needed to take it, even though she knew it would break her heart in the end. Maybe that's what being in love did to someone, though – it made them risk it all, even though they knew the outcome would break them.